The Reunion

by Suzanne Rossi

  “I don’t understand how Glory fits into the picture,” Zach said. “She was much younger than Divine, wasn’t she?”

  “By five or six years, I think,” Meghan told him. “I remember her as kind of a gawky kid with a perpetually earnest expression on her face. Ray, what did Glory tell you?”

  “Not much. When I questioned her last night, she rambled, sang hymns, quoted the Bible, and declared everyone she killed deserved to die because they were responsible for Divine’s suicide.”

  “How?” Zach asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the graffiti and posters depressed her. Maybe old man Prescott convinced her everything was her fault, and she was going to hell. I’ll need to read the diary when Tom finds it,” Ray answered. “If he doesn’t find it this morning, I’ll have to issue a search warrant for the house.”

  “You should have ordered it anyway. Doesn’t sound like stability was a family trait,” Suzanne said in a crisp voice.

  Zach stared with a disapproving expression. “No, but it was still a mean thing to do. Didn’t your conscience nudge you just a little when you heard about Divine’s death?”

  Hell yes, her conscience had done more than just nudge. It had been mean and she was sorry she’d been involved, but over the years the incident had faded. Suzanne defended herself when three pairs of eyes turned her way.

  “Hey! Gimme a break. We were eighteen. None of us ever thought beyond the moment. Did I wonder if Divine killed herself because of that silly prank?” She paused and shrugged wincing again. “The thought crossed my mind, but life goes on, and I forgot about it. Last night, Glory relished telling everyone who’d listen all about Tami and Eddie’s deaths. I think she wanted to scare Dave and me—maybe even put us on notice. Should have realized then the crazy bitch knew more than she let on.”

  “So, five people died, and two others came under attack, because you were eighteen and stupid,” Meghan spoke in a clipped tone.

  “Don’t get prissy on me. I didn’t have to tell you a damned thing, so get off my back. That’s all I’m saying. Go lock that nutcase up in a padded cell where she belongs, and tell Tom Ecklund and the Grandview Inn to get good lawyers. They’re both going to need one.” She rubbed her aching forehead. Maybe a pain pill would relieve the pounding. Besides, she was tired of defending herself over something that happened so long ago. She wasn’t ready yet to acknowledge guilt. “Interview’s over. I’m tired, and my head is splitting. I’d appreciate it if you’d all leave.”

  Her three visitors rose and filed out of the room without another word—no goodbyes or hope you feel better on their lips. The door closed with a swish. The hell with them. She stared out the window through a veil of tears.

  Meghan was right. She’d been so stupid. They all had. Stupid and thoughtless. No amount of justification could erase the consequences of their actions that summer. Now, alone, she allowed the guilt to surface. Five people had died not knowing why, and she bore part of the responsibility for the tragedy. The tears overflowed and coursed down her cheeks.

  “Oh, God, Divine, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Suzanne buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zach and Meghan followed the sheriff to the hospital waiting room and claimed space on the vinyl sofa.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” the sheriff asked, pausing in front of the vending machine.

  Meghan shook her head. “No thanks.”

  “Me neither.”

  He pumped change into the coin slot, made his selection, and then sat in a chair. The lines etched on his face had deepened over the past few hours, and Meghan could almost feel his weariness.

  “I still can’t believe Glory Ecklund killed everyone. I can’t wait to get a gander at that diary,” Ray muttered. He rose, wandered over to the window, and squinting in the bright sunlight, tilted a soda can to his mouth.

  Suzanne was right about one thing—Ray should have a team searching Tom and Glory’s house right now. The diary was evidence regardless of what it contained. A lifetime of friendship can’t be in the equation.

  “But how did she pull it off? Has she said anything coherent?” Meghan wondered. “I mean, trips to California and Texas take time. Didn’t Tom question his wife’s whereabouts?”

  “She was more lucid this morning and talked willingly with a lawyer present. Tom is the regional manager of an insurance company. Once a month he travels to the home office in Chicago for meetings. He leaves Tuesday afternoon and returns Thursday night. Tami, Eddie, and Clara were killed on Wednesdays,” the sheriff informed them. “She told us everything with the certainty we’d understand why she had to do it.”

  “And therefore, it was perfectly all right,” Meghan concluded.

  “So, Glory flies to Los Angeles and Dallas, rents a car, puts the phone at home on call forwarding to her cell in case Tom checks in, and then hops a flight back before he knows she’s been gone,” Zach speculated.

  “And because she’s a bit of a recluse and the time frame is so short, neighbors don’t notice she’s out of town,” Meghan added.

  “We’ll verify the flights.” The sheriff turned to face them. “Glory’s one of those people who blends into the woodwork. You notice her, and then forget her. I talked to the hotel manager this morning and found out she had often visited the premises with the excuse of checking on things concerning the reunion. She had ample time to scope out all the entrances, exits, garden pathways, and the corridors on every floor.

  “By the time the reunion rolled around, she knew which rooms had been assigned to Dave and Suzanne. According to the reservations clerk, Glory requested a room across the hall from her best friend, Suzanne Crocker.”

  “It made keeping tabs on Suzanne that much easier,” Zach said. “All she had to do was look out the peephole or crack the door.”

  “She knew exactly where to hide and when to strike,” Ray agreed.

  “And the hotel security guards?” Zach asked.

  “When Tom was out of town and she wasn’t busy killing classmates, Glory cased the parking lot and timed the guards’ rounds. They’re creatures of habit, never varied their routine.”

  “And all because the hotel, in order to save money, didn’t have jack for security cameras,” Meghan asserted in a bitter voice. She was still angry about that. If cameras had been present, in the hallways and the outside areas, the victims might still be alive to tell the tale.

  “I doubt if Glory even thought about cameras,” Zach said. “She isn’t exactly up on the latest technology. A cell phone is about as hi-tech as she goes.”

  “And a stun gun,” Meghan reminded him.

  Ray drank from the can again. “Lawyers are scrambling as we speak. I’m sure Suzanne, Eric Peterson, Dave Coryell’s relatives, and God knows how many others will file lawsuits against the hotel.”

  “You know, I never thought of this as a psychological murder. It wasn’t until I suggested the link with Tami and Eddie before that particular light bulb went off,” Meghan mused.

  “If Glory had thought it out, she’d have never used the reunion to kill Dave and Suzanne,” Zach commented.

  “But she had to kill when Tom was out of town, and his meetings were in Chicago where Dave and Suzanne lived,” Meghan responded.

  “That’s true, although the chances of them crossing paths were slim,” he agreed.

  Ray shook his head. “Glory was crazy, clever, and sloppy all at the same time. We’ve spent most of the morning checking credit cards and ATM withdrawals. She left a mammoth paper trail, but like most killers, probably figured no one would suspect her.”

  “If she thought about it at all,” Meghan said. “She was on a mission.”

  “You’re probably right,” Ray replied. “I got the California and Texas files this morning. The police in Malibu found a set of kitchen knives in a trash can down the street from Tami’s home. The chef’s knife was missing. A clerk at a local grocery store
remembers a woman buying several bouquets.”

  “All caught on security cameras, too, I’ll bet,” Meghan said.

  Ray nodded. “The police checked those out first thing when they saw all the flowers. In Texas, a red pick-up was stolen from outside a bar in Mesquite, twenty miles from Harrison. It was later found a block from where it was stolen with massive front end damage. Also had blood and fabric caught in the grill. They matched Eddie’s.

  “Both the knife and truck contained a set of unidentified fingerprints. I’m sure they’ll match Glory’s, and I’m certain the Muncie police found the same in Clara Sylvester’s room.”

  Zach’s eyebrows rose. “She didn’t wear gloves for any of this?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “God, she wasn’t even trying cover her tracks or be clever,” Meghan murmured.

  Zach shrugged. “She wasn’t into clever, just revenge.”

  The sheriff finished his soda and tossed the can into the trash. “When I talked to her at the station, Glory kept saying it was God’s will they should die, an eye for an eye.”

  “I guess the gospel according to Daddy Prescott bore fruit,” Meghan replied, a trace of bitterness remaining.

  “I still say she could’ve nailed Dave and Suzanne in Chicago. Accompany your husband to Chicago on the excuse of visiting the museums or something. Neither one of them would be hard to find. They both led high profile lives,” Zach insisted.

  “Too high a profile. Getting close would have been tough. Someone might remember her. Besides, Eileen told me Dave and Suzanne were among the first to confirm they’d be attending the reunion,” the sheriff said heading for the door.

  “She didn’t need to go after them. They were coming to her, and on her turf,” Meghan murmured. “What happens now?”

  “She won’t do jail time. A mental institution for the rest of her life is more likely.”

  Tom walked into the waiting room, his expression shifting from anger to sorrow and back again. A Grandview deputy stood in the doorway, a frown on his face.

  “Meghan, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. She was too desperate and exhausted to put much force behind the blows, although at the time it hurt like hell. I still feel like I’ve had a close encounter with a battering ram.”

  His chin quivered, and his eyes glazed with a haunted look. “She drugged my drink in the bar. I always have a small whiskey in the evenings. Glory’s been taking Valium for months. Whiskey for me, Valium for her. It helped ward off her nightmares. I suspect she concealed one or two in her purse, and spiked my drink. I never expected it.”

  “Tom, I’m…” she began, but Tom ignored her and continued talking.

  “I knew something was wrong. I was too sleepy for only having had a couple of drinks. I woke up and found Glory gone. Scared me. I wondered at dinner how she knew so much about the murders. I had to find her before she did something bad. Guess I was too late.”

  “You suspected she was behind the murders? Was she always…” Zach paused as if to find the words.

  “Unstable?” Tom finished. “Yes. I married her two weeks after she graduated high school. I’d known her for years through the church. She used to talk and confide in me. Her father was a verbally abusive SOB. He thundered and thumped the Bible, but her mother doled out the physical punishment—cane beatings and belts. Glory showed me the welts on her back. I thought if we got married, I could protect her. It worked for years. I didn’t suspect anything until last night. Guess I didn’t do such a great job.”

  Meghan blinked tears from her eyes. Never had she heard anything so noble or so tragic. She sniffed. Zach’s arm encircled her waist. He fumbled in his jeans pocket and shoved a handkerchief into her hand. She daubed her eyes.

  “You did your best,” Zach said. “When did it fall apart?”

  “When she found Divine’s diary. We moved into the family home after her mother died. The woman never threw anything away. Boxes and boxes of crap were stored in the attic and the basement. Glory was clearing stuff out and found the diary. She told me it contained ordinary, everyday girl-talk and chit-chat. I should have known better. Divine didn’t indulge in chit-chat. If she kept a diary hidden from her family, then she had something important to say.”

  “Have you found it yet?” Ray demanded. “I’d like to read it when you do.”

  Tom nodded. “You will. Glory became withdrawn, but when Eileen called to ask if I’d sit on one of the reunion committees, Glory leaped at the chance, volunteering to help locate lost classmates. I thought it was a blessing in disguise. It got Glory interested in something again.”

  “She found Tami and Eddie,” Meghan said. “We know why she sought revenge. Suzanne told us about the practical joke that got out of hand.”

  “I know about the prank. It’s in the diary. But Suzanne couldn’t tell you why Divine committed suicide because she didn’t know.”

  “Know what? You’ve read the diary?” Ray asked, his eyes boring into Tom’s, and then shifting to Zach.

  Tom returned Ray’s stare. “I found it on the desk when I woke up from the drug. It was open to the last page. I read enough to know Meghan was in danger. That’s when I went to Zach’s room to inform him and help with the search.”

  “Why did she kill herself?” Zach wanted to know.

  Meghan wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. Ray and Tom stood twenty feet apart staring at each other like two gunfighters about to draw. Zach’s arms contracted, biting into her waist as he tensed.

  Tom broke eye contact with Ray and turned his attention back to Meghan and Zach. “She wrote everything that happened in the diary. All those flyers and graffiti paid off. While walking home from church one night, Divine accepted a ride from the wrong person. She was raped.”

  Meghan gasped. “Raped? And no one suspected?”

  “Who did it?” Zach said in a hoarse voice.

  Meghan sucked in a startled breath, looked at Zach, and then Ray. “Did you catch the bastard?”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Neither Divine or her parents ever reported anything like that,” he denied emphatically.

  “Given her background, I can see how she’d keep it to herself,” Zach commented.

  “She told someone,” Tom confirmed in a quiet voice. “She told a member of the Methodist Church—a teacher at the high school.”

  “Clara Sylvester.” Meghan guessed in a hushed tone.

  Tom nodded. “According to the diary, when Divine feared she was pregnant, she broke down and confided to Ms. Sylvester. But Clara Sylvester didn’t believe her, called Divine a liar and unbalanced.”

  “Now, we know why an old woman died,” Zach said.

  Ray waved a dismissive hand. “I doubt any of this is true. Surely her parents read the diary. If the Prescotts didn’t contact Sheriff Hilliard, then I’d have to believe they thought it was bunk.”

  “Neither Jonah or Sarah Prescott read it. Their daughter committed the ultimate sin—taking her own life. I’ll bet Divine’s things were packed and stored the next day. The diary is a large spiral notebook. It looks like any other high school composition book,” Tom told them.

  “Did she name her attacker?” Zach insisted in a low voice.

  Tom turned to nod at the deputy who stepped into the room, and then returned his gaze to the two men. Zach shifted his weight on the sofa. The sheriff licked his lips.

  “Yes. On the last page, written just before she hanged herself. But it wasn’t the last entry. Glory had several additions, including the details of how she killed Tami, Eddie, and Clara. I found three obits stuck in between the pages. She also listed six names—five of them crossed out with heavy pencil strokes. Tami Robinson, Eddie Mancuso, Clara Sylvester, Dave Coryell, and Suzanne Wayland. Meghan’s name was penciled in with a question mark beside it, like an afterthought.” Tom paused and closed his eyes. “The last name is Ray Armstrong. You’re responsible for Divine’s death, Sheriff. You raped
her. It’s there in Divine’s handwriting.”

  Ray’s expression was a cross between incredulous and outraged. “What? You’re nuts!”

  A sharp pain slashed through Meghan’s head and the room spun at Tom’s accusation.

  Ray? Divine named Ray as her assailant?

  She shuddered. Had the poor girl been as crazy as her younger sister?

  “You were the one person in Grandview, Divine Prescott would have trusted. She’d have accepted a ride with a deputy sheriff, especially in view of the obscene phone calls those flyers and the graffiti produced,” Zach said.

  “That’s insane! I never touched Divine Prescott, and if she says I did, she’s lying. No wonder Clara didn’t believe her,” Ray stated. A line of sweat coated his upper lip.

  “Clara Sylvester was your mother’s cousin. You could do no wrong in her eyes,” Tom insisted. “She was involved in each of your election campaigns. I can’t imagine why Divine would tell her anything.”

  “Because Clara had the knack of inviting confidences, of listening and saying the right things. That’s what made her such a good Methodist youth advisor,” Zach told him. “Divine either didn’t know, or forgot about, her devotion to the Armstrong family.”

  “This is nuts. Are you going to believe me or the ramblings of a clearly deranged young girl? After twenty years? There’s no proof.” His voice changed from angry to scoffing.

  “Divine was eighteen, so that eliminates statutory rape. There’s no statute of limitations on rape if force, a weapon, or drugs are involved. It had to be force. Divine wouldn’t have consented. Did you handcuff her to the door? Did she scream and kick? Maybe beg?” Tom asked softly.

  “You’re crazy and still don’t have any proof!” The sheriff wiped the sweat from his lip with his shirt sleeve.

  “The Wednesday evening youth meetings were over by eight-thirty. If Divine stayed to help close up like she often did, then she would have been on her way home by nine or nine-thirty. It was summer. In those years, Grandview was on that double daylight savings time. Nine o’clock would be dusk. I’m sure someone must have seen the patrol car—maybe even noticed Divine getting in,” Tom continued.