Dead of Summer

by Sherry Knowlton

  Melissa took up the narrative. “We’ll skip over the many minor mistakes of your college years and go right to law school. The love of your life, Trent, who turned your hopes and dreams into ashes when he bolted for a Hollywood law firm.”

  “Caleb Browne might be your worst mistake,” Haley grimaced. “Religious extremist, member of some whacko right-wing militia group, and all around party boy. But I’ve got to admit that he kept his less desirable traits well-hidden until the end.”

  Melissa softened her tone. “Honey, you’re not the only girl who’s dated some real losers. A lot of us are drawn in by that bad boy vibe. But you’ve picked some good ones, too. Reese Michaels could have been a keeper. The guy you dated senior year, that exchange student, Paulo, was a real sweetheart.”

  “And what about Timmy Wise? I hear that he’s doing some groundbreaking work with disease molecules or some science thing at the CDC.”

  Alexa threw her napkin into the air. “Enough, already. My God, you’re digging deep. Timmy Wise had a crush on me in sixth grade. We sat together at the chorus concert and kissed once on the playground. Face it. No amount of polish can put a shine on my record with men. I almost always pick the bad ones. And when I have a chance with a good guy, I tend to throw it away.”

  Alexa stopped and composed herself. “So I am taking it slow with Quinn Hutton or any man who wanders into my orbit.”

  “You go, girl.” Melissa pumped her fist into the air, and the three friends broke into uncontrollable giggles.

  Chapter Eighteen

  WHEN ALEXA OPENED THE DOOR, Scout bolted toward her father for a dog biscuit. Norris Williams kept a jar of Milk Bones on the kitchen counter just for Scout’s visits.

  “Am I early?” It was Friday pizza night, a Williams tradition.

  Mom hugged her and said, “You’re fine. Graham and Kate are running late. They called and said something about picking up Courtney from a play date. They’ll be here soon.”

  Dad looked up from scratching Scout’s ears. “Since we have a little time, let’s go over some details for our safari. You’ve finished all your shots, right?”

  “Yeah. I went to the travel clinic over a month ago. They gave me a prescription for malaria pills that I filled last week.”

  “I know your mother gave you a packing list. Do you have all of that squared away?”

  “The only thing I’m missing is binoculars. We’ve got an old pair at the cabin, but they’re almost shot. Can you tell me what kind to buy?”

  “Norris, don’t we have another pair of binocs up in the attic? When you bought those new Leicas, I think we stored your old ones up there. Wouldn’t they work for Lexie?”

  “You’re right. I’ll go up there tomorrow and find them.”

  “I’ll run up right now so I can take them with me. Mom, do you remember exactly where you put them?”

  “I think they are in that chest of drawers in the front of the attic. Maybe the top drawer?”

  Alexa grabbed a flashlight from a cupboard and dashed up the stairs to the second floor. She opened the attic door in the corner of the spare bedroom and switched on the dim light. A wave of heat from the airless space made her hesitate. Bracing herself, she ascended the narrow stairs, deliberate in placing each foot to avoid tripping on one of the boxes that lined the passage.

  When she reached the main attic, Alexa headed directly to an old maple bureau, its surface layered in dust. The top drawer resisted her first attempt to slide it open. On the second try, she positioned her legs in a Warrior Pose and used both hands to yank the brass pulls. With a loud creak of protest, the drawer popped halfway out. Alexa flicked on the flashlight so she could see into the dim space.

  “No binoculars here,” she muttered. “Maybe in that box.” Lifting out a square metal box covered in paisley designs, Alexa sat on a nearby wooden trunk to open it. Instead of binoculars, the box held a single rectangular book: a small scrapbook. A flowing script on the cover said WOODSTOCK.

  Intrigued, Alexa lifted the book and set the box on the floor. Her mother rarely discussed her Woodstock experience. When they were teenagers, Graham and Alexa had watched the movie and had asked all sorts of questions. But Mom played her Woodstock cards close to the vest. Alexa had always assumed that her mother was avoiding any conversations in which Susan Williams, hippie festival, and marijuana could appear in the same sentence.

  Considering her mother’s reticence on the subject, Alexa hesitated for a moment. Should she pry into Mom’s stuff without permission? Driven by curiosity, she rationalized that the box hadn’t been hidden. It was right there in plain sight in the drawer. Alexa opened the cover and leafed through the pages.

  The opening pages of the book contained a newspaper ad for Woodstock, some pages torn from a program, and several yellowing news articles about the concert. A few pages in, two pristine Woodstock concert tickets were affixed to the thick sheet of paper by little triangle-shaped photo corners.

  “I bet these are worth a small fortune on eBay. Original, unused tickets from Woodstock,” Alexa speculated to the empty room.

  Except for a few small items—a crumbling pressed flower and two tear-off tickets that said Food for Love—the rest of the book was devoted to photos. The dim attic light made it difficult for Alexa to make out the details. Most were four-inch by five-inch black and white snapshots.

  On the last page, there was a larger photo that had been shot with an excellent camera. A group of kids posed in front of an old van. They looked like all the pictures of hippies that Alexa had ever seen: long hair on both the girls and guys; round, wire-rim glasses on one of the guys; and wide smiles on every face. One small girl with white-blonde hair looked like a child.

  She aimed the flashlight at the page to study the photo more closely. There, in the center, with a wreath of flowers in her flowing ash blonde hair, was her mother. Alexa caught her breath at how beautiful and free her mom looked in her bell-bottoms and peasant blouse. Two boys flanked her. Alexa didn’t recognize the one with brown hair in a long ponytail who was holding her mother’s hand. However, the guy on the right looked familiar in some way. Alexa scanned the rest of the picture, but the only person she could identify was one of her mother’s closest girlfriends.

  Alexa had closed the scrapbook when it hit her. The guy on the right was Jack Nash! She took a second look at the picture to confirm her conclusion before placing the book back in the box and closing the drawer.

  When she tried the second drawer, it opened easily to reveal the binoculars she sought. As Alexa made her way downstairs, she wondered why her mother had never mentioned the Woodstock connection when they discussed Jack Nash.

  “Aunt Alexa.”

  “Look, she’s here!”

  Courtney and Jamie squealed in delight and ran to Alexa when she entered the kitchen. As usual, Courtney beat her petite older brother in the race to greet their aunt.

  “Hey, munchkins. Let me put down these binoculars before I drop them.” She deposited the binocular case on the counter before she crouched down to hug her seven-year-old niece and eight-year-old nephew. “Are you guys ready for pizza?”

  “Yes. I’m hungry, but Grams said we had to wait for you,” Courtney sniped with a shake of her honey blonde curls.

  Kate intervened. “That’s enough, miss. We’ve only been here a few minutes, and we’re the ones who are late.”

  It continued to amuse Alexa that petite Kate acted as disciplinarian with the kids. Perhaps Graham was so exhausted by managing the law firm and keeping the staff in line that, at home, he was happy to cede the role of the heavy to his wife.

  Alexa’s dad picked up two giant flat boxes from the kitchen island and sang out, “Pizza time, boys and girls. I want the entire Williams clan around this table right now.”

  There was an immediate flurry of activity. The kids climbed into their chairs. Graham handed them napkins. Kate poured milk into two plastic cups. Alexa’s mom grabbed a stack of plates from the counter and
whisked them to the table. And Scout managed to get in everyone’s way until he stationed himself at the kids’ end of the table.

  Alexa waited for the furor to abate before grabbing a Coke from the fridge. “Does anyone need a drink?”

  “I think everyone is set,” Graham mumbled. “If you don’t sit down soon, the pepperoni will be gone.”

  “You found the binoculars?” Dad asked Alexa after the meal. He sat at the table with Graham and Alexa. The kids were watching a movie in the family room while Kate and Mom kept an eye on them.

  “Yep. I think that’s the last thing I need for safari. I am so looking forward to it.”

  “Me too,” Graham whined. “You’ll be out stalking lions and communing with elephants while I’m slaving away in the office.”

  “Give me a break. It’s only three weeks. What about all that work-life balance stuff you’re always promoting at staff meetings?”

  “Behave, children.” Their father barked with mock severity.

  Graham looked at Alexa. “Speaking of work, let’s run that Children of Light Board appointment by Dad. I talked to Pat about it. We agree that sitting on the board is consistent with the firm’s policy to encourage participation in the community. There appears to be no conflict; if we take on any legal work that would involve Children of Light, someone else in the firm could handle the case. But I think Jack Nash uses some big Washington mega-firm for his legal work.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard about a board appointment, but I don’t see any issues. I assume that your time commitment will be minimal?” Norris directed his question to Alexa.

  “I don’t think it will be a major burden. Monthly meetings. They might want me to sit on a subcommittee of some sort. Since I’ve cut down my Wednesday afternoons at the clinic to every other week, I’ll have time. I would be filling Cecily Townes’ vacant seat, so it’s an interim appointment. I can always walk away next year if it ends up becoming a problem for either the firm or me. And it’s a worthwhile organization. I’ve read their annual report and some additional material. They do a lot of good for children in need.”

  Alexa’s mother had entered the kitchen in time to hear most of the conversation about Children of Light. “So you’ll be working with Jack Nash,” she stated in a flat voice.

  “Yes. He’s chairman of the board. I don’t expect to see much of him except at the meetings. He mentioned that you were friends in college, Mom. And you went to Woodstock together?” Alexa sidestepped how she had learned about the Woodstock connection.

  “I’d hardly characterize him as a friend, but he was part of our group that went up to Woodstock.” Susan crossed her arms in a disapproving posture that Alexa knew well. “If you’re going to take this board position with Jack Nash, honey, just be careful.”

  A crash sounded from the living room, followed by loud sobbing. “Mommy, it hurts,” Jamie screamed.

  All the adults rushed into the family room to find Kate cradling Jamie in her arms with Scout looking on in concern. Courtney, eyes glued to a cartoon on the television screen, ignored the commotion.

  “He’s fine.” Kate wiped Jamie’s face with a Kleenex. “He just tipped his chair over. I think it startled him, but I don’t see any damage.”

  The slight, strawberry blonde boy made an attempt to pull himself together when he saw his father and the others enter the room. He pushed Kate away. “I’m OK, Mom.”

  Alexa noticed Graham’s reaction, knowing that he worried about Kate coddling his son.

  Her brother scowled. “It’s time to get them home to bed anyway. Courtney, we’re leaving.”

  “But, Daddy, the movie’s not over yet.”

  “You’ve already seen that one a hundred times. Isn’t that Frozen?” Graham lifted his daughter into his arms and switched off the television.

  “Scout and I will head out, too.” Alexa picked up her purse and the binoculars. “It’s been a long week. Let’s do one of these pizza nights out at the cabin soon. We can have a picnic on the deck. Maybe when we get back from Africa.”

  On the drive home, Alexa pondered her mother’s surprising reaction to Jack Nash. She had been downright frosty. “What did you think about that warning, Scout? Maybe Mom and Jack had a romance during college, and he dumped her or something. She sounded pretty down on the guy.”

  Scout moved forward to listen, hanging his head over the front seat. Alexa laughed and patted his neck before she shifted into fourth gear on the empty road.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “HELLO,” ALEXA GRABBED the phone like a lifeline. She nudged aside a small pile of clothing to perch on the bed. Stacks of clothes obscured the rest of the bed’s surface.

  “Hey. What are you up to?” Melissa asked.

  “I’ve spent the morning sorting through clothes for safari, looking for items in khaki. I’ve got khaki brown, khaki green, khaki tan. How the hell can they call all of these different colors the same thing?”

  “Don’t ask me.” Melissa snorted.

  “And there is no way I can fit all of these clothes into one little duffel bag.”

  “I got a lot of that quick dry stuff for my trip to Asia with Cecily. It really does work. Try one of the big sporting goods or outdoor stores, but you better get on the stick. Isn’t your trip right around the corner?”

  “In two weeks. Are you still OK to stay here at the cabin with Scout?”

  “Yep. I’ve been spending a lot of time at Jim’s. I stayed at my place a few nights, but I’m just not comfortable there since the breakin, even though I changed the locks. I wish they’d catch the fucker.” Melissa’s tone was savage. “So I will be only too glad to hang out at the cabin with gigundo dog for a couple weeks.”

  “Great. Anything new on Cecily? I heard you talked to the cops about what she said at the march,” Alexa prompted.

  “Yeah. Not sure what good it will do. I have no clue what she found so disturbing. If I hadn’t been such an asshole with those Park Police, they probably wouldn’t have arrested me. Then I would have gone home on the bus with Cecily and found out what had her so freaked. Maybe if I’d gone home with her to pick up my car, she’d be alive . . .”

  “Maybe, maybe, maybe. Don’t go down that path of regret and guilt. Maybe whoever killed Cecily would have killed you, too. Only one thing is certain, Melissa: you are not responsible for Cecily’s death.”

  “I know, but it’s hard not to obsess.” Melissa’s tone brightened. “Did I tell you that I talked to her brother, Richard, at the memorial service? Lovely man. Strong resemblance to his sister. He plans to come back to Carlisle in July to sort through Cecily’s things and put the house on the market. I told him that I would help if he needs an extra pair of hands.”

  “Will you be OK going back into that house?”

  “I think so. I owe it to Cecily to help her brother.”

  Alexa threw a helpless look at the unfinished packing on the bed. “So, did you call for any particular reason?”

  “Oh, that’s right. I called to tell you that Susquehanna Beautiful is doing an article on my exhibit. It will be out in a few weeks, so I’m thinking of extending the show for another month. Traffic to the gallery is still pretty high, but I might get another bump out of the magazine feature. The more I sell, the more I can contribute to RESIST.”

  “That’s wonderful news. You’ll be going national soon.”

  “Not likely, but a nice dream.”

  Alexa slipped on her shoes. “I better hang up. I’m going to run down to Harrisburg for safari clothes.”

  The next morning, Alexa tested out her new quick-dry khakis on an early morning hike with Scout. They wandered down a trail that led from the cabin to a nearby pond, Scout taking frequent detours to investigate intriguing forest smells. When they reached Weaver’s Pond, Alexa sat on a log to rest. Scout nosed along the edge of the pond causing an undulating wave of tiny explosions as alarmed frogs hurtled toward the water. When he startled a big bullfrog, the creature’s leap cr
eated a sizable splash that drenched Scout’s face. Shaking his head to dry, the dog meandered back to find a spot at Alexa’s feet.

  His owner tilted her face to the sun, soaking in the forest. The deep staccato of a pileated woodpecker in the distance provided a bass counterpoint to the medley of small birdsong around her. A few swallowtail butterflies flitted among the dragonflies at the edge of the reeds. Alexa reveled in the peaceful morning with a lovely sense of drowsiness.

  Without conscious effort, she soon found herself thinking about Cecily Townes’ homicide. Just like Elizabeth Nelson and Emily Baxter from last autumn, another innocent woman had been murdered while simply living her life as best as she knew how.

  Alexa’s recent experience had turned her into a cynic. She now pictured death as a jealous bastard, who welcomed vibrant women with open arms while holding the evil motherfuckers of the world at bay as long as possible. She just hoped that Melissa didn’t catch the bastard’s eye.

  Chapter Twenty

  QUINN TOOK ALEXA TO A RARE Monday evening concert in Harrisburg. She had suggested that they meet at Dickinson, not yet ready for an evening that ended at her cabin. When she pulled into the parking lot behind the Holland Union Building, Quinn was lounging against a wall.

  “Good evening. You look wonderful, as always.” Quinn managed to be disarming rather than loutish as he ran an appraising eye over Alexa’s summer sundress. She had taken care in selecting her outfit and was flattered that she’d hit the right note.

  He was wearing his trademark jeans and a slubby natural linen jacket over a charcoal silk tee. Alexa was almost disappointed to note the absence of a European-style scarf.

  “Thank you. I’m looking forward to this concert. I can’t believe you’re familiar with Andreas Vollenweider. Most people have never heard of him, but my parents followed his music so I grew up with him.”

  “I first heard him in Switzerland. I was in Zurich on holiday from my teaching job in Paris. Lucky that another professor mentioned that Andreas was coming to the Whitaker Center.”