by Lauren Carr
“He was drunk and high,” Mona said. “After they had sex, he passed out and didn’t wake up until after the sun had risen the next morning.”
“Then he can’t alibi her,” the detective said.
Mona grinned. “But he knows she didn’t do it.”
“How can he be so sure if he was passed out?” Joshua asked.
“Because she told him.” When Joshua and Cameron exchanged doubtful glances, she added, “She also told him that she knew who did kill Angie Sullivan.”
“And he believed her?” Cameron scoffed.
“He had proof.”
Cameron squinted at her. “What type of proof?”
“Not actual evidence.” Mona glanced over her shoulder. They could see that she wanted to make sure her father wasn’t watching her betray the secret he wanted kept because of his own nastiness. “Dad told me that the night that Cheryl had gotten into that fight with Angie, she was bitching to him about how she had no money. When they went to the First Street overlook, while they were drinking and smoking, she told him that she had figured it out. She would have to work over a year for that fast food joint where she flipped burgers, and not spend any money on anything, before she could save enough money to go to Hollywood. That was her dream, to go to Hollywood and be in the movies.”
“Which she did,” Cameron said.
“After Angie went missing and the police started asking around,” Mona said, “Dad knew that he was so out of it that Cheryl could have left the van and done something stupid like hunt down and kill Angie.” She lowered her voice. “Dad said that Cheryl had one nasty temper. So he went and asked her flat out if she had killed Angie. She laughed at him and said that she didn’t, but she knew who did. He asked her how, but she refused to tell him anything about it. She said it was so good that she was keeping it to herself.” She cocked her head at them. “Dad didn’t believe her, but she was his friend, so he backed her up and alibied her. Then, ten days later, lo and behold, Cheryl was on her way to Hollywood. When she went to see Dad to tell him good-bye and thank him for alibiing her, he asked her where she got the money. She laughed at him and said that she had a benefactor who was paying her way to Hollywood in style.” She nodded her head. “That was when he believed her that she knew who did it.”
“But if she knew who killed Angie Sullivan, why didn’t she tell the police when they accused her of doing it?” Cameron asked.
With a distant look in his eyes, Joshua muttered, “Because she wanted to go to Hollywood and needed someone to pay her way. It was more beneficial to her to keep her mouth shut and blackmail the real killer.”
“I’m only telling you what Dad told me he knew,” Mona said. “I hope it helps you.”
Joshua shook her hand. “You’ve been a big help. Thank you so much.” He was in the car before Cameron had time to finish shaking her hand. “Get in the car, Cam. I have something to show you.”
She had barely fastened her seatbelt before Joshua was tearing down the lane to Locust Hill Road. “Where are we going in such a hurry?”
“Someplace quiet to neck.”
The First Street overlook in Chester had once been the home of the Chester Bridge, referred to now as the Old Chester Bridge. After the bridge had been torn down in the 1960’s, the entranceway that had led onto the bridge was converted into an overlook. With a fantastic view of the river, residents could sit on benches and enjoy the view and fresh air while having lunch. In the evening, couples would park and kiss. They didn’t so much anymore.
Over the years, rowdy, young people had driven the quiet lovers out. After a plaque honoring Dr. Russ Pugh, a late town doctor who had been a mentor of Tad’s, had been vandalized, Joshua had surveillance cameras installed in hopes of catching the culprits. So far, they hadn’t had any luck.
“This is gorgeous,” Cameron said in a breathy voice when she saw the expansive view up and down the river.
From where Joshua had parked the SUV up at the railing, she had a clear view of East Liverpool across the river. On her left, she could see all the way down past the Newell Bridge. To the right, she could see the houses along the river bank all the way down to the new Chester Bridge. “I can imagine what this is like at night . . . with all the lights across the river . . .”
“It’s one of the best views in town,” he told her.
She turned to him.
He had that soft look in his blue eyes. The corner of his mouth curled. When she leaned toward him, he cupped his hand behind her head and brought her in closer to taste her lips. When he started to pull away, she grasped his face to bring him back to kiss him again and again.
With a smile, he wrapped his arms around her. “We should have come here sooner.” She was reaching inside his coat when he remembered the surveillance cameras he had installed to curtail vandalism. With visions of Hancock County Sheriff Curt Sawyer having a good chuckle while watching him and Cameron smooching at the First Street overlook, he pushed her hands away.
“Later,” he said. “That’s not what I wanted to show you.” He threw open the car door. With a sense of relief, the cold, fresh air cooled his passion.
When she met him around at the front of the car, he led her by the hand up to the railing where the view of the shoreline stretched up and down the river.
“What?” She tried to keep the whine out of her voice from his abrupt end to their romantic connection.
He was peering over the railing and down the river toward the Newel Bridge. “Mona said that her father stated that he and Cheryl were making out in the back of his van right here at the overlook.”
“That’s also what he stated in his alibi for her.” Thinking that she should have come to investigate the scene in person earlier, Cameron nodded. “He claimed they were in the van all night. But now we know he was inebriated and passed out, so she could have left.”
“Obviously, she did.” Joshua leaned against the railing and folded his arms. “How else would she know who really killed Angie?”
She gazed at him. A gust of winter wind blew their hair across their faces. She tossed her head to get the locks tickling her cheeks out of eyes.
Joshua guided her by her shoulders up to the rail. Standing behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the back of her neck. The warmth of his body cut the chill from the wind whipping around them on the overlook.
She followed the aim of his finger to look in the direction of the Newell Bridge and down to the shoreline. Less than a mile away, there was a café and docks that had been shut down for the winter season.
“It’s the yacht club.” She felt his hot breath in her ear. “The same yacht club where Angie’s car and body were found.” The events came crashing together in her mind. “After Randall passed out in the van, Cheryl came out to look at the view.”
“Or maybe she heard Angie fighting her killer,” Joshua said.
“Whatever the case, she saw the murder and the killer from here.” When she turned to him, their eyes met. “That means the motive for Cheryl’s murder was blackmail. She came running back here to blackmail the killer again to help her escape from the mob.”
“Exactly,” Joshua said. “We find Angie’s killer, and we’ll find Cheryl’s killer.”
Cameron’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She had to pull away from him to take it out of its case where it was clipped to her belt.
Without her to warm him up, Joshua stuffed his hands in his pockets and shivered while she read her text message.
“Not so fast, cowboy,” she told him while reading the message.
“What is it?”
She held up the cell phone for him to read. “Forensics managed to pull up a set of prints from the inside of that freezer. They belong to Doris Sullivan, Angie’s sister-slash-mother.”
Chapter Eleven
“Are you kidding me?” Joshua replied to her news about forensics lifting Doris Sullivan’s fingerprints from the freezer.
“They were inside,
” Cameron explained. “They also found traces of molasses and oats.”
“Doris raises Thoroughbreds.” He followed her back to the car. “What about the serial number? Were they able to trace that back to her?”
Cameron shook her head. “The manufacturer’s records don’t go that far back. But they were able to tell us that that model was built back in the early fifties.”
“No wonder it didn’t work.” He slid into the driver’s seat of his SUV and fastened his seat belt.
“Cheryl could have been hidden in that freezer somewhere else, and then transported to Albert’s place when the killer found out what a hoarder he was. He thought, or rather hoped, no one would ever discover it.” She pointed to the road for him to turn around. “Our next stop is the Sullivan Farm.”
Joshua shook his head. “Our next stop is the church.”
“Why? Are we late for a funeral?”
“No,” he laughed. “It’s Wednesday afternoon. Doris Sullivan and the ladies meet at the church for their afternoon Bible study. If we want to question Doris about that freezer, we need to go to the church.”
“Now there’s something I’ve never done,” she replied, “interview a murder suspect in a church.”
“You may get to do more than interview a suspect.” Joshua pulled his car into the parking lot behind the church. He pointed across the lot to a royal blue Cadillac parked next to the parking space reserved for the church pastor. “Mildred Hildebrand is here. Would you believe that woman has been driving blue caddies since before I was born? When you’re in Chester and you see a blue caddie, you know it belongs to Mildred Hildebrand.” He then pointed at a black dual-wheeled pickup truck parked on the other side of his SUV. “Doris Sullivan was driving pickups before it was chic for women to drive trucks.”
Anticipating an exciting visit to the church, Cameron said, “This should be fun.”
Cameron and Joshua could hear the cat fight from the moment they walked through the church doors. Instinctively, she put her hand on her gun. Joshua reached out to stop her and shook his head. When she looked at him questioningly, a grin crossed his face. Before he could explain, an elderly woman came running into the sanctuary from the back meeting rooms.
“Oh, Joshua, I’m so glad you’re here.” She pointed in the direction of the shrieks. “They’re at it again.”
They followed her to a Sunday school classroom in the back of the church. There, they found Doris Sullivan and Mildred Hildebrand rolling on the floor and pulling each other’s gray hair while surrounded by four elderly women. Doris and Mildred were shrieking like alley cats fighting over a single bite of tuna.
Dressed in a purple dress and a red bonnet, one of the class members was clapping her hands in a vain attempt to get their attention. “Ladies! Ladies! Stop this right now!”
Joshua grabbed Mildred around her thick waist and pulled her to her feet from where she straddled Doris.
“Tramp!” Mildred yelled. “You’re nothing but a cheap, jealous slut!”
“And you’re a stuck-up old biddie!” Doris leaped to her feet with the agility of a teenager.
“How dare you talk to me like that! I’m a great-grandmother!”
“Ladies!” the red-hatted woman snapped in a loud voice. “I won’t have cursing in God’s house! I won’t have it!”
“Why do you even come here?” Mildred yelled. “You don’t know the first thing about Christian charity. Your own sister hated you!”
“How dare you!” Doris shoved her in her plump chest.
Mildred fell back against Joshua. The unexpected force of her body against his knocked the two of them off their feet and down to the floor in the corner of the small room.
Cameron tried to pull the enraged woman off them, but before she could do so Doris yanked off her opponent’s wig to reveal a head of thin, gray strands of hair. Unaware that she was still sitting on top of Joshua, Mildred attempted to cover her head while screaming as loud as her lungs would allow.
The other women, long aware of Mildred’s wig, covered their mouths to hide their amusement. Stunned, Cameron’s mouth dropped open. Shrieking with delight, Doris ran out of the room while triumphantly waving the hair piece.
“You spiteful little slut!” Mildred scrambled off of Joshua and gave chase.
“I don’t believe this,” one of the women muttered.
Cameron helped Joshua struggle to his feet, and the two of them ran out into the sanctuary where they found Doris skipping through one row of pews before turning to dance along the next one.
“This proves you’re a phony, Millie!”
When Mildred tried to reach for the wig, Doris jumped up onto the seat to hold it out of her reach. “You never have forgiven me for stealing Ralph from you!”
“You didn’t steal him!” Doris claimed. “I left him!”
Mildred scoffed. “Who do you think you’re kidding? Your family had to send you away to boarding school to get you to leave him alone!”
Watching Mildred over her shoulder, Doris ran down the center aisle towards the main doors where her getaway was cut off by Joshua who caught her in his arms.
“That’s enough,” he said.
“She started it!” Tears pouring from her eyes, Mildred pointed an accusing finger at her adversary. “She’s been spreading despicable rumors about Ralph.”
“Liar!” Doris lunged for her, but Joshua yanked her back.
“Stop it!” His commanding voice, bouncing off the walls and ceilings of the church, grabbed everyone’s attention. “Stop it, right now!” He grabbed the wig. “Have you forgotten where you are?! You’re behaving like a couple of heathens!”
The reminder made the two women look guiltily at their feet.
Joshua handed the wig to Mildred. “Go put your hair on, and clean yourself up.”
Tears in her eyes, Mildred hurried down the stairs to the ladies’ bathroom.
Joshua turned his attention to Doris, who was still looking at her feet like a naughty child. “Doris Sullivan, if I catch you stirring up trouble again, I’m telling the pastor, and you’ll be removed for any position of leadership. Got it?” He clapped his hands to capture everyone’s attention. “Break it up. The show’s over.”
While he ushered the women back to the Sunday school classroom, Joshua caught Cameron’s eye. No words were necessary to communicate the next step in their investigation. She turned heel to head to the ladies room to help Mildred get a few things off her abundant chest.
Downstairs, Mildred Hildebrand was still sputtering with fury. She was so enraged that she failed to notice that she had put her wig on crooked. Since she was considered a church leader, she felt obligated to defend her role in the scene that the police detective had witnessed.
“She’s crazy,” Mildred raged with tears in her eyes. “You see that, don’t you? No sane person would have said those things to another woman.” She choked. “I’m so upset that I’ve had to call my daughter to come take me home.” She held out her hand for Cameron to see it shaking. “Look at what that woman did to me. I’m shaking like a leaf.”
While she listened to her with sympathy, Cameron made a concerted effort not to stare at the clownishly crooked hair piece. She wet a paper towel and offered it to Mildred for her to wash her face.
“She always has been crazy with jealously of me.” Mildred wiped the tears from her eyes, blew her nose, and held up her head to regain her dignity. “She used to make like she was high and mighty because she went to boarding school overseas, but I know the truth. Her own sister hated Doris because she was always picking on her. That’s because she was jealous of Angie, too. Doris was always jealous of pretty girls. Those two fought like cats and dogs.”
“Have you two always been rivals?” Cameron asked.
“No,” Mildred choked. “Would you believe we used to be best friends? The very best of friends. Of course, I was the pretty one.” She struck a dancing pose. “I was also quite a dancer. Doris was the tomboy. On Satur
day afternoons I would go to her farm, and we would spend the whole afternoon riding. And then on Saturday night, we would go to the Silver Slipper.”
The detective’s blank expression caused Mildred to scoff. “The Silver Slipper. Surely, you’ve heard of it.” Sighing with regret, she turned around to peer into the mirror. “I guess that was before your time.”
“What was the Silver Slipper?” Cameron asked her reflection.
“It was the dance hall in Hookstown. The American Legion is there now—at the end of the Silver Slipper Road.”
“Which runs off of Snowden Road,” the detective noted.
“Exactly,” Mildred said. “When the Silver Slipper closed, they opened a skating rink across the street, and the young people started going there. The Melody Lane Skating Rink was where all of my daughters’ met their husbands. It burnt down I don’t know how many years ago.”
Cameron noted, “The Melody Lane was where Angie Sullivan was last seen alive.”
“Yes, it was. My daughter Gail was there that night. She saw the whole awful thing.” With another sigh, she straightened her wig. “Young people knew how to behave back in my day. We went to the Silver Slipper to dance, not brawl, and no one danced better than me. That was where Doris and I met Ralph. Of course, we both fell head over heels.” A look of determination crossed her face. “But he chose me, probably because he could see what a spiteful little bitch Doris really is. She never forgave me for it—even after fifty-five years.”
“Mom, what have you done now?” With a sigh that could only be described as maternal, deep and tired, Gail Hildebrand came into the ladies’ restroom. She held the door open with one arm, and the other hand on her wide hip. An expression of amusement and disgust filled her face. “When are you going to learn to turn the other cheek when it comes to Doris Sullivan?”
“She started it,” Mildred whirled around to announce. “She was saying that your father left me. I couldn’t let her get away with saying things like that about my husband.” She folded her arms under her plump breasts. “But then, what do you know about standing by your man?”