A Thorn Among the Lilies

by Michael Hiebert

  The door was answered by an elderly man, tall and lanky, with a beer belly that the rest of his body didn’t quite know how to support, making him lean forward. He wore spectacles and had age spots on his head, and what little hair was left was combed over the top. Black suspenders held up his brown trousers, and he had on a blue collared shirt that was barely tucked in. In his hand was a walking cane.

  “Hello?” he asked.

  “Hi, sir, I’m Leah Teal, the detective for the Alvin Police Department?” She flashed her badge so he would know she wasn’t making this up.

  “Eh? What? I can’t hear you. My hearing aids aren’t in. You need to speak louder.”

  She wound up screaming at him. Right away that made a bad start.

  “You sayin’ I have sawdust and clay somewhere? What are you talkin’ ’bout? ’Course I’ve got sawdust. And God put the clay in. I got lotsa clay if you want clay.”

  “No, sir. I’m askin’ if you’ve . . . can I see your barn?”

  “You wanna look at my alarm? I don’t have no alarm. You don’t need no alarm round these parts. Folks round here are good people.”

  She screamed louder. “I want to look at your barn. You know, where you keep your horses?” She made horse sounds and tried to make herself look like a horse. She felt as though she looked more idiotic than anything else.

  “One minute.” The man turned around and Leah thought she finally got through to him, but a minute later he appeared back at the door with a short, portly woman wearing an apron. She had creases around her blue eyes and her hair was pulled tightly into a bun.

  “Hello. Zacharias tells me you are alarmed about our horses. Did something happen? Did one get out again?”

  “No, ma’am.” Leah couldn’t help it. She laughed. It wasn’t a smart thing to do. Neither of the elderly people laughed along with her. They were looking at her like she just stepped out of the Twilight Zone.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m the detective from the police department? I’d like to see the barn. Where you keep the horses and stuff.”

  The woman’s hand came to her mouth. “Oh, why?”

  “There’s been a report of a missing girl. We think she’s a runaway.” Leah rehearsed this story beforehand and gave it to Chris to use, too. It was a good story because it didn’t indict anyone. “I just want to make sure she’s not hiding back there anywhere.”

  “Well, I don’t think she is; we’d have seen her,” the woman said.

  “What’s she want?” Zacharias asked his wife.

  “To see if there’s a girl in the barn,” the wife screamed back.

  “I sent her home already.”

  The woman looked at Leah. “He’s talking about Molly. She comes to help sometimes in the mornings.”

  Eventually, Leah was led to the barn, where she saw exactly what she expected to see. Horses, straw, a bunch of tools, a workbench, but no blood. No sign of foul play. “Do you mind if I check the hayloft?” she asked the woman.

  “No, by all means go ahead.”

  “Why’s she goin’ up there?” Zacharias asked his wife.

  “To check for the girl,” his wife screamed back.

  “I told you. I sent her home.”

  After she was finished with searching that barn, Leah took pictures of the tread on the couple’s Chevy pickup. “One last thing,” Leah said to Zacharias’s wife. She turned and looked back at Leah, expectantly. “What size and type of footwear does your husband have?”

  “That’s a weird question,” she said.

  “Just tryin’ to whittle down all my suspects, is all.”

  “We’re suspect?”

  “No, no, ma’am. Just . . . please answer the question and I will be out of your hair.”

  “He rarely leaves the farm and when he does, Zacharias wears the same thing he’s always worn. Size-eleven galoshes. That good enough?”

  Leah jotted this down in her pad. “That is more than helpful. Y’all have been saints with your patience today. I can’t thank you enough.”

  And with that, Leah returned to her car and radioed Chris, telling him to abandon his search. It wasn’t working. It was a dumb idea.

  There had to be a better way.

  She must’ve missed something. There was always something.

  Then, an hour after getting back to the station, Leah got a call.

  Another woman, Scarlett Graham, had disappeared.

  CHAPTER 35

  “What’re you two doin’ in here?” Isaac Swenson asked as he slowly walked down the sawdust-covered floor to murder us.

  My heart felt like a professional baseball pitcher was using it to fire fastballs at my ribcage. I began to sweat; beads of it ran down the side of my face and continued down my neck. My fingers trembled. Beside me, Dewey whispered, “Abe, I’m scared.” And I heard the trembling in his voice. The tension all got worse the closer Isaac Swenson came, until, finally, he was just a few feet in front of us.

  “Well, I s’pose I should say hello,” Isaac Swenson said, holding out his hand. “I’m Isaac. Isaac Swenson. I own this ranch. Who might you two be?”

  I tried to keep the shakiness out of my voice as I answered. “Abe,” I said. “Abe Teal.” Putting the arrow in the same hand as the bow, I took his hand and shook it. I was sure he felt my hand trembling.

  “And I’m . . . Dewey,” Dewey said, nearly forgetting his name. “Abe’s ma is a police officer,” he added, almost as some sort of threat. He also shook Isaac Swenson’s hand.

  “Is she now? Come to think of it, I reckon I’ve seen her around. Nice lady. So, tell me, what can I do for you boys?”

  “We were just playin’ around,” I said. “Pretendin’ we’re Dungeons and Dragons characters.”

  “Or real D and D characters. We’re playin’ the advanced version now. Abe got all the handbooks for Christmas from Santa!” Dewey added, and I really wished he hadn’t.

  I quickly cut him off with, “I’m sorry we got into your barn. It won’t happen again. We were just looking for interesting places to pretend fight.”

  Isaac Swenson batted my statement away. “Oh, that’s okay. I reckon this place could use some superheroes sometimes.”

  “Anyway,” I said, looking at my watch, “I reckon it’s time we got goin’. I’m s’posed to be home for supper in twenty minutes.”

  “Are you sure, Abe?” Dewey asked. “I thought we didn’t need to be home ’til—” Dewey started, but I elbowed him in the ribs, making him shut up.

  “All right, then,” Isaac Swenson said. “It was a pleasure meetin’ you boys. And seriously, I don’t mind you playin’ on my ranch, as long as you are careful with those weapons of yours. I know those arrows are blunt and that sword ain’t really so sharp, but you could hurt one of my horses with them. To be honest, though, I kinda miss my own son playin’ out here, but he’s all grown up now. So feel free to come back up this way any time you like.”

  “That’s mighty kind of you, sir,” I said.

  We left the barn and found our bikes where we’d hidden them in the long grass we’d previously used for lying in while we spied on Isaac Swenson. With a wave good-bye, we headed down the steep hill of Fairview Drive. It was definitely easier going home than it was coming up.

  Dewey pulled up beside me, and said, “Well, I reckon there’s no question at all anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We found our serial killer: Isaac Swenson.”

  I looked at him. “What are you talkin’ ’bout? He turned out to be one of the nicest folk I ever met.”

  “Exactly,” Dewey said. “It’s the perfect disguise.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re sayin’ we should be lookin’ for nice folk now?”

  “Clearly the pattern thing didn’t work. Isaac Swenson changed his pattern today. So, yeah, I guess I am. Someone really nice is unnatural and that means they’re obviously hiding something. And I’d say that something is likely to be that the
y’re a serial killer.”

  We came to the place in the road where Bogpine Way forks off and heads up to the bog of stench and toads. That was a direction we definitely wanted to avoid at any cost.

  “You wanna know what I reckon?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “That you’re an idiot.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Scarlett Graham was another loner with a penchant for alcohol and going to bars. Like Mercy Jo Carpenter and Faith Abilene, she hung out at the Six-Gun Saloon. She had just moved into a new apartment with a roommate named Layla Redmond, and was supposed to meet her at noon to drop off a set of keys. Scarlett was a no-show. Now it was almost five and still no sign of Miss Graham.

  “Five hours ain’t exactly what we’d call a missin’ person,” Leah said to Miss Layla on the phone.

  “Well, I certainly would,” Miss Layla replied. “I’ve been waitin’ here half my day.”

  “Okay, we’ll look into it. You wouldn’t happen to have a picture of her, would you?”

  “Now why in the hell would I have a picture of her? I only met her a week ago. It’s not like we went to college together or anythin’ like that. She just seemed like she’d make a good roommate. I got her name out of an ad in the Examiner.”

  “Her parents live in Alvin?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  “Can you describe her for me, Miss Layla?”

  “Sure. She has long blond hair that comes down past her shoulders, I reckon her eyes are blue. She’s about five foot eight, I reckon. Just a bit taller than me. I dunno, what else do you want? She wears lotsa makeup.”

  “Does she like to drink?”

  “What does that have to do with anythin’?”

  “It may have a lot to do with everythin’.”

  “Yeah, she seemed to like her booze. I noticed a stockpile of empties when she gave me a tour of the place. So what? It’s not a crime.”

  “So tell me ’bout her apartment.”

  “It’s nice. Scarlett is very spiritual and decorates accordingly. This was the first place I looked at and I liked it so much I just decided this was it. I moved most of my stuff in on the weekend and was just waiting for Scarlett to give me my keys, but she never turned up.”

  “So when you say she was spiritual, she had incense and candles and that sort of stuff.”

  “Yeah, she even had a Buddhist shrine set up in the corner of one of the rooms.”

  Leah scratched it all down on the pad in front of her. It was the long blond hair that caught her interest. “Okay, I got it. We’ll look into it.”

  “Thank you. Please make it a priority. I need my key.”

  “We’ll do our best. In the meantime, I’d suggest contacting the landlord.”

  She sighed. “I’m not certain she’s supposed to have a roommate.”

  “Well,” Leah said, “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do ’bout that.”

  Leah got back into her car and back on the street. She headed to the station with a head full of questions. Was this number three? Or had this woman simply passed out in some bar somewhere? Leah’s stomach told her it was the worst of those two cases, and she’d learned to trust her instincts. With a brief pause for thought, Leah called Detective Truitt. He had given her his direct line and he answered on the first ring.

  “Truitt,” he said.

  “Hi. It’s Leah, from Alvin.”

  “Hey! How the hell is life treatin’ you down there in the armpit of the world?”

  “Good. Listen. I think we just lost our third victim.”

  “What do you mean?” His tone had changed dramatically. Now he was all business.

  “I just got a call from someone telling me that they’ve been waiting five hours for someone to show up at noon.”

  “Leah, five hours ain’t exactly a missing—”

  “She described her as having long blond hair and having a thirst for alcoholic beverages.”

  “Oh, shit. This really could be number three. That means we got what? Six or seven days before she winds up in some pond in some back-ass town somewhere. Sorry, no offense meant.”

  “None taken.”

  She hung up and, after checking the time, turned to Chris. “Listen, Chris, I’ve promised my kids I’d take them out for hamburgers tonight. Any chance you could do me a favor?”

  “Sure. What’s up?” He pulled out a pad and poised a pen, ready to write.

  “We’ve got a missing person. Name’s Scarlett Graham. I need you to find her parents. Mom or dad. They may be separated, they may still be together. I have very little to go on. They may be livin’ in Alvin, or they may not.”

  “How long she been gone, and who reported it?”

  “Five hours, and her new roommate who’s been waiting for her to drop off the key to their new apartment.”

  “Five hours? Ain’t exactly a missing person yet.”

  “Just humor me on this one, okay?”

  “All right. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Leah took the kids to Vera’s Old West Bar & Grill, which brought back thoughts of her meeting here with Dan Truitt. She found herself thinking often about Dan Truitt. Maybe a little too often. The man had obviously made an impression on her. Those thoughts were accompanied by feelings she hadn’t felt for a long time. Not since Billy had died in that fatal crash back when Abe was just two years old.

  It was something about Dan Truitt’s eyes. They were an intense steel blue that seemed to look straight inside her, as though allowing him to read her thoughts while simultaneously he said something completely ridiculous.

  But, of course, Dewey, who had to come along, pulled Leah out of her memories.

  “I reckon this is the best steak I ever ate,” Dewey said.

  Leah was a little put out when everyone was supposed to be ordering burgers and when it came time for Dewey to order, he asked for a “ten-ounce sirloin, medium rare, please.”

  “How many steaks you ever ate?” Abe asked.

  “Well,” Dewey said, looking up at the ceiling, which was covered in old license plates from all the different states. “I reckon this is my fifth.”

  “Best out of five,” Leah said. “That’s not bad. How’re your guys’ burgers?” she asked Abe and Caroline.

  “Good,” Caroline said.

  “Same as ever,” Abe said with a full mouth. “Good.”

  “So did everyone have a nice Christmas?”

  Everyone said they did except Dewey, who seemed slightly disappointed in Christmas.

  “What was so bad ’bout your Christmas?” Leah asked. “Didn’t you like your sword?”

  “My sword is fine. I love my sword. But I didn’t get the one thing I asked for.”

  “Which was?”

  “A piece of plutonium. See, I have this invention that I—”

  “Wait,” Abe said. “You asked Santa for the plutonium?”

  The waitress came around and asked if anyone wanted refills on their sodas. Everyone except Leah said yes.

  “I only asked for a small piece,” Dewey said, answering Abe’s question.

  “And it didn’t show up under your tree Christmas morning?”

  Dewey stared back blankly. “You know it didn’t. I already told you.”

  “You didn’t tell me you asked Santa for it. I thought his elves can make anythin’. So . . .” Abe said, leading into the vital question. “Why didn’t you get your plutonium?” Across the table, Leah gave him a dirty look.

  “My mother told me them elves won’t make anythin’ radioactive on account of it’s too dangerous.”

  “Sounds plausible,” Abe said, nearly laughing as he took another bite of his burger. “It is, after all, plutonium.”

  “That’s why I need it. My invention takes the plutonium and converts—”

  “Wait,” Abe said, again speaking with his mouth full. “I’m not so much interested in why you needed the plutonium, more that you expected to get it. Wher
e would Santa get it from?”

  “His elves can make anything,” Dewey said. He took a bite of steak and washed it down with Coke.

  “You don’t make plutonium, Dewey. At least I don’t think so. It’s an element.”

  “Elves are magical. They can make elements.”

  Leah looked to Caroline. She could tell her daughter was on the brink of breaking under the strain of this demented conversation. When Caroline went off, she tended to go off like a neutron bomb.

  “I don’t think they’re up at the North Pole hammering out weapons of mass destruction, do you?” Abe asked.

  “Well, my invention isn’t a WMD; see, my invention uses the plutonium as a nuclear power source to drive—”

  “Wait,” said Abe again. “I don’t even want to hear the rest of it. This invention is one of your worst to date. I can already tell. Can we just skip it?”

  Dewey looked at Leah and Caroline. “Y’all don’t wanna hear ’bout my hover boots either?”

  They both shook their heads. “I just wanna enjoy my burger,” Caroline said. “With my feet on the ground, thanks. And can we seriously change the subject because I’m gettin’ ready to snap.”

  Leah held back a laugh.

  “Fine.”

  Most of the rest of the meal was pretty quiet.

  Almost as soon as they got home, the phone rang. As was usual, Abe raced to answer it. “Hello? Yep! Just one sec.”

  “Mom, it’s for you. Officer Chris!”

  Leah took the call on the kitchen phone, knowing it would be about Scarlett Graham.

  “Has she turned up yet?” Leah asked.

  “Nope, but I managed to track down her parents.”

  “So you told them she was missin’?” Leah was absently wrapping the telephone cord around her finger.

  “Did more than that,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Call me Super Chris. I saved you a whole bunch of time and drove over there and took a statement and everythin’. Turns out they didn’t know she was missing. I emphasized that we actually don’t usually count people as missin’ until they’re gone at least twenty-four hours, but in this case it seemed weird considerin’ she was supposed to drop off keys to her new roommate.”