The Reunion

by Suzanne Rossi

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for Suzanne Rossi

  Dedication

  Other books by Suzanne Rossi

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  A word about the author...

  Other Books You Might Like

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  The Reunion

  by

  Suzanne Rossi

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Reunion

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Susan Peek

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Crimson Rose Edition, 2013

  Print ISBN 978-1-61217-801-1

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-802-8

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for Suzanne Rossi

  “I found [ALONG CAME QUINN] entertaining and a quick read. It’s a fun road romance with a twist on the treasure that I think is different yet believable. And it just goes to show that sometimes you can’t see what’s right under your nose.” ~ Dear Author

  “I couldn't wait to turn each page to see what would happen next. Suzanne Rossi has definitely been added to my must-read list. The terrific twist on the run of the mill mob story makes [ALL IN THE FAMILY] a definite keeper.”

  ~Theresa Joseph, The Romance Studio

  “[A TANGLED WEB] has to be THE BEST romantic/suspenseful/mystery novel that I have read to date. The love scenes were perfectly timed with the plot, the suspense kept me turning the pages, and the mystery was superbly developed. Once I started reading it, I could not stop.”

  ~Happily Ever After Reviews

  “[NEARLY DEPARTED] is the BEST ghost story I have read in a long time. The wacky cast of characters is so colorful and fun that they bring the story to life.”

  ~Night Owl Reviews

  “I really got a good laugh out of [HEAR NO EVIL] and enjoyed the plot immensely which draws you in from the beginning... This author has done an incredible job penning this amazing tale.”

  ~The Romance Studio

  Dedication

  This book can have only one dedication and that's to the Carmel (Indiana) High School class of 1965.

  (Yeah, I'm that old!) Our fiftieth reunion is looming

  and I want to give them all something to think about—BWAHAHAHA.

  ~

  Seriously though, high school for me was mostly not being part of the "in" crowd, but standing on the sidelines. None of the characters in The Reunion are taken from real life but are drawn from people I have known over the years, including myself. Strange—in 1965 I graduated without a backward glance. Now I am busy trying to reconnect with my classmates.

  ~

  So to Cindy Hinshaw Weir, Carolyn Roth Richardson, Avie Szabo Stamm, Pam Wisler Mills,

  Judy Michael Roeder, Harold Lowry, Steve Perrine, and so many more,

  thanks for letting me back into your lives.

  I hope you enjoy reading the story

  as much as I liked writing it.

  Other books by Suzanne Rossi

  available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Along Came Quinn

  All in the Family

  A Tangled Web

  Nearly Departed

  Hear No Evil

  Deadly Inheritance (coming soon)

  Death Is The Pits (coming soon)

  Prologue

  May 10th

  Obituary page of the Grandview News-Journal, Grandview, Indiana:

  Tami Robinson McGovern

  Tami McGovern, nee Robinson, age 38, died May 2nd at her home in Malibu, California. The former resident was a cheerleader at Grandview High School and had the distinction of being voted both Homecoming and Prom Queens two consecutive years. Ms. McGovern moved to the west coast shortly after graduation…

  I stopped reading. The obit didn’t say Tami had been stabbed in the back—by me. She answered the door of the opulent beach home totally unsuspecting.

  “Holy crap! Who the hell sent this?” She snatched the huge bouquet of flowers from my arms without giving me a look.

  I counted on that. Who really looks at a delivery person? As usual, Tami came first. Rage fueled my determination. It welled in my chest, threatening to crush my hammering heart. My doubts vanished. I had to kill her. She deserved it.

  When she turned her back to close the door, I struck, plunging the nine-inch chef’s knife between her shoulder blades. The arrogant bitch cried out, staggered forward, and fell face first into the thorny roses. I stepped into the house enjoying the gurgling noises coming from her throat and her feeble efforts to rise.

  The blood flowing across her back and dribbling onto the cold marble tiles of the foyer gave me enormous satisfaction.

  Leaning down, I whispered, “One down and lots to go. Roast in hell, bitch.”

  I waited until the choking noises stopped and she lay still, then turned, crossed the threshold, and closed the door behind me with a soft click. No one paid any attention as I walked down the sidewalk. After all, I was only a delivery person.

  It was so easy. Much easier than anticipated.

  I jumped up, ran into the den, grabbed the scissors from the desk, and carefully cut out the obituary, then slipped it between the pages of a book.

  ****

  Page 3, Sports Section of the Grandview News-Journal, dated June 12th:

  Former Grandview High School Football Star Dies

  Edward Mancuso, age 39, died Wednesday, June 6th in Harrison, Texas, the victim of an apparent hit and run. Mr. Mancuso was the former quarterback of the Grandview Wildcats. His pin-point throwing accuracy carried the team to its only state championship in…

  I sipped my soft drink. Yeah, Mr. Big-Football-Hero. The paper didn’t say Eddie was a total loser. With all of his so-called athletic prowess, he ended up driving an old semi across the country. Mechanical problems landed him in Harrison, a grubby little town not far from Ft. Worth. Lacking funds to make repairs, he lived hand-to-mouth at a seedy motel next to a truck stop.

  I killed him, too. Just like his bitch of a girlfriend, Tami Robinson. Without transportation, old Eddie had been forced to walk the mile from the cheesy bar where he ate dinner every night to his room. The road was dark and narrow. Perfect for my purpose.

  Stealing the pickup was a piece of cake. Nobody locked their cars in Harrison, and some even left the keys inside. I hit pay dirt on my third try.

  I gave Eddie a ten-minute head start, and then fol
lowed in the rapidly descending dusk.

  It was so easy. With my headlights off, he didn’t see me hurtling down on him, and by the time he did, it was too late. I nailed him. His body flew backwards over the truck, his scream echoing in the still night air. A thrill went through me. I jammed on the brakes and watched in the rearview mirror as he hit the pavement, tumbling like a rag doll. I fist-pumped like a jazzed-up linebacker, reversed gears, and backed over him just to make sure.

  Finished, I stepped from the cab and walked toward his broken, bleeding body. His eyes glazed and questioned. He didn’t recognize me, but why should he? Twenty years is a long time.

  “Have a good evening, Eddie.”

  I waited until the last breath gasped from his lungs, and then left.

  “Number two has been sent to the hell he deserves. Time for number three to pay.”

  This article joined the obituary I cut out last month.

  ****

  Obituary in the Grandview News-Journal dated July 13th:

  Clara Sylvester, Educator, Dies

  Clara Sylvester, age 83, died unexpectedly last July 11th at the Better Life Assisted Care and Rehabilitation Facility in Muncie, Indiana, where she had been recovering from a broken hip. Ms. Sylvester taught government and civics classes at Grandview High School for over forty years before retiring, but continued to work in the school bookstore for another ten years. She was revered by her students and fellow teachers alike. Ms. Sylvester was also Youth Coordinator for the Methodist…

  Of course, the old bat died unexpectedly. I killed her. She was number three. Revered by her students? Not by me. I hated the old bitch. Meddling in other people’s lives was her stock in trade, and because of that, she needed to pay just like Tami and Eddie.

  This was both the easiest and the hardest to pull off. It’s tough to breeze into a nursing home without someone asking who you’re there to see, but a pair of white slacks and a baggy white coat made me look like a nurse or an orderly. I sailed in the front door as if I knew where I was going—which I did. I’d scoped the place out earlier pretending to be a visitor. The busy receptionist gave me the room number without hesitation.

  The next night, I strode with confidence toward her room. No one questioned me. I was just another employee. I snatched a pillow from a gurney in the hallway.

  Clara was watching television from her bed. She looked up and frowned.

  “What now? You’ve already shoved all those pills down my throat.”

  “I’m here to make sure you’re comfortable.”

  “I don’t need another pillow,” Clara grumbled as I approached.

  “Oh, but you do.” I took the remote from Clara’s fingers, tossing it onto the covers just out of reach. When she fumbled for it, I shoved her back. For once I’m in control, you old bitch. I was about to exact the ultimate revenge for her actions those many years ago.

  “Hey! Stop it! You have a lousy bedside manner.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  The cranky old crow reached for the nurse’s call button beside her head. I pulled it away. Elation at her look of surprise gave me confidence.

  “Too late for that, Clara.”

  She drew in a sharp breath and opened her mouth.

  With a swift move, I pressed the pillow over her face. She struggled, but the punches had no weight behind them. I pressed harder. Gradually, all movement ceased. I waited several seconds before tossing the innocuous murder weapon onto the foot of the bed.

  I left the room and gloated. She paid—just like they’d all pay. I felt no guilt, merely a sense of justice finally being done.

  I cut out the obit and slid it into the book with the others. My mission was more than half over. Strange, but I never expected murder to be so easy. I shrugged. Easy is better than hard. And time is running out.

  The reunion was six weeks away.

  Chapter One

  August 25th

  Grandview, Indiana

  Welcome to the Reunion!!

  Meghan Donahue read the sign over the doors to the ballroom of the Grandview Inn, her heart pounding with both anticipation and fear.

  “Come on, Meghan, open the damned door. Don’t be a jerk,” she muttered to herself. She’d stalled in her room for over twenty minutes, hiding like a frightened gopher, before finally screwing up enough courage to emerge. “It’s been twenty years. You can do this.”

  She lifted her chin, sucked in a deep breath, and entered the banquet hall. Conversation and laughter greeted her along with the clink of glasses.

  A sign above a table next to the wall on her right read: Welcome Graduates! Sign in here. It was manned by a thin woman Meghan immediately recognized as Eileen Raymond. The hair had grayed and her skin sagged a touch, but she still displayed the same smile she’d had in high school.

  “Welcome,” Eileen greeted in a burbling voice as Meghan approached. “And whose spouse are you?”

  “Nobody’s. I’m Meghan Donahue.”

  Meghan had the satisfaction of seeing Eileen’s eyes widen, her jaw drop, and her shoulders straighten in surprise. Her reluctance to attend the reunion vanished.

  “Oh, my God, you’ve dropped a ton of weight,” she said with a gasp.

  It might not have been the most diplomatic thing to say, but Meghan didn’t take offense. “Over a hundred pounds. I learned the value of exercise and diet my freshman year in college. You look good.”

  “Oh, well, I try.” Eileen patted her elegant French twist and fumbled through the name badges in front of her until she found Meghan’s. “Here you go. Please sign the register. We have cash bars located at opposite ends of the room. The buffet will begin at eight and dancing at nine. I’m so glad you could make it, Meghan. I’ll be by to talk later.”

  Meghan signed in, clipped the badge to the top of her strapless cocktail dress, and turned away as three other people strolled up to register.

  She gazed around the room. Close to half of the twenty-five or so tables had occupants.

  A large bulletin board on an easel bearing the title In Memoriam caught her attention. It hadn’t occurred to her that some of her classmates might have died, but twenty years after the fact and with a graduating class of two hundred, the idea wasn’t unreasonable. The boards remembered not only classmates, but teachers as well. Still, Meghan was surprised to see ten pictures, along with the dates of death, on display.

  Their old principal, Fred Sheridan, was there along with teachers John Noble and Clara Sylvester. Two of the names stunned her—Tami Robinson and Eddie Mancuso. The quarterback and the cheerleader—two of her tormentors. It didn’t surprise her they were dead. Even in high school those two had lived life in the fast lane.

  “Holy shit!” a female voice next to her exclaimed. “I didn’t know Tami and Eddie died.”

  Meghan turned her head to see Tami and Eddie’s best friends, Dave Coryell and Suzanne Wayland, standing nearby. They ignored her, but she expected that. The two of them hadn’t paid much attention to her in high school either—at least not in a good way.

  “This is the first I’ve heard about it, too,” Dave replied.

  “I wonder what happened.” Suzanne had a dazed expression on her face.

  “I have no idea. I need a drink,” Dave muttered, cupping Suzanne’s elbow in his hand. “How about you?”

  “You got it.”

  The pair moved away and a woman approached Meghan. “Hi, I’m Glory Ecklund, Tom Ecklund’s wife. I’m on the reunion committee.”

  Glory…Glory. The name sounded familiar. She remembered Tom Ecklund. He’d been average looking with average grades and a pleasant personality. Meghan’s gaze drifted to the bulletin board and one of the pictures—Divine Prescott. Of course, Divine had a younger sister named Glory.

  “I’m Meghan Donahue. I’m sorry about your sister.”

  “Yes, such a tragedy. I still miss her. She killed herself.”

  Meghan didn’t know how to respond to such a blunt statement. She remembe
red her mother telling her Divine had died. Sometime following graduation wasn’t it, after most of her classmates had left for college?

  Glory smiled. “Well, it was nice meeting you, and if I can do anything to make the party more fun, feel free to ask.” She nodded and walked toward the registration desk.

  She resembled Divine—pale complexion, pale blue eyes, and light blonde hair. The Prescotts had been an odd family living on the outskirts of town. Meghan remembered they’d kept to themselves and been devoted to the Methodist Church.

  “Kind of a morbid thing to have at a reunion,” a male voice said.

  She swung her head to the right and gazed into a man’s face. It was a long journey. At five feet, seven inches, Meghan had to tilt her head. The man stood at least six-four. She fumbled for a name, wishing she’d taken time to study her old yearbook before coming to Grandview.

  “Yes, but informative. I guess we should expect to lose some classmates. Tami and Eddie are a bit of a shock though.”

  “I think ‘live fast, die young’ was their motto back then,” the man commented.

  Feeling at a disadvantage, she decided to come clean. “Okay, I’ll be honest. I should know you, but don’t.”

  The man grinned as if anticipating her words. “I know you. You’re Meghan Donahue.”

  “You recognized me? Or did you cheat and ask Eileen?”

  “I never forget emerald green eyes.” He paused. “Still can’t place me? Try Zachary Dunbar.”

  “Oh, good grief! Four years of your locker being just down from mine.”

  “Only Janice Donovan and Todd Duffy separated us. You’ve changed.”

  “A tad. At graduation I was well on my way to employment as the fat lady at the circus, had bad posture, and not one ounce of fashion sense. If I’m not mistaken, you were incredibly thin and wore thick glasses.”