Murder Comes by Mail

by A. H. Gabhart

  “Never, Aunt Lindy, but this guy scares me. I don’t like to think about what he might do next.” He reached across the table to touch her arm.

  “As well I can understand, but it is unlikely he would choose an old lady after picking young ones, isn’t it? Don’t these types of killers follow patterns?”

  “Sometimes, but we have no idea what pattern this monster is following. We don’t even know who he is.”

  Aunt Lindy stood up, stepped around the cat, and picked a yearbook up off the counter. “I’ve been saving this to show you when you came by. If I’d known the jumper was a suspected killer, I would have called.”

  She opened the yearbook to a page of sophomore class pictures. “I think I found your jumper. Jackie Johnson, class of ’93.”

  Michael peered at the boy staring up out of the small square. If that was the jumper, he’d changed a lot. But Aunt Lindy was good with faces. “Do you remember him?”

  “Actually, I do. A harmless enough boy. A bit slow. Sort of a loner who invited ridicule from some of the other students, perhaps because he was a newcomer to Hidden Springs. Not a hometown boy. His family lived here for maybe three years. His father was worthless, best I recall, and Jackie wasn’t anyone you expected to excel in anything. Tried to cheat on tests sometimes. Got caught every time. He was the sort of boy who would have you feeling sorry for him one day and then he’d pull something so brainless the next that you’d be ready to send him to the principal’s office. He seemed determined to mess up.”

  “Mess-up kid to mess-up adult. That’s how both Hank and I pegged him out on the bridge. And now these murders with everything neat and arranged and carried out perfectly.”

  Aunt Lindy came around the table to peer over Michael’s shoulder at the picture as if trying to see the man the boy had become. After staring at the picture for a long moment, she said, “Are you positive you have the right suspect?”

  21

  Michael left Aunt Lindy in her sitting room, working on her lesson book, her cat curled at her feet. She looked like she could be the model for a Norman Rockwell Saturday Evening Post cover, except for his father’s gun beside her on the lamp table. Seeing the gun there didn’t make Michael feel any better.

  He had no choice but to go home, load up Jasper, and come back. She insisted that wasn’t necessary, but when he said he wanted to be in town in case something else happened, she didn’t argue. She simply said, “You’ll have to tie Dog outside.”

  Aunt Lindy never called Jasper by name. She hadn’t found it amusing when Michael named his dog after their Keane ancestor.

  He looked in the rearview mirror at Aunt Lindy’s house as he headed down the street. Everything looked peaceful, the same as always, but he still wished she had agreed to ride with him. He needed to protect her. He needed to protect them all. Aunt Lindy, Alex, Karen, even Betty Jean. He was the reason they could be in danger.

  Karen was next on his list. She came to the door in faded red warm-ups, her reading glasses propped on top of her head. Her long blonde hair was yanked back and captured in one of those evil-looking clips. She hesitated a half second before she pulled open the door and invited him in.

  “Working on a devotional.” She waved a hand at a couple of Bibles and study books on her coffee table. A new laptop she must have bought the night before was open and humming on the couch. “You remember I told you I was starting an online devotional blog.”

  “Oh.” He didn’t remember, but that hardly mattered right now. “Sorry to interrupt, but this is important.”

  Her pastor nature kicked in then and she focused on him. “What’s wrong?”

  “We better sit down.”

  “Sure.” Without a glance at the screen, she shut her computer and placed it on the table beside the Bibles. She motioned him toward the couch and then sat sideways beside him to watch his face while he went through the story again about Jackson. When he warned her she could be in danger, her steady brown eyes widened a bit.

  When he was through, she closed her eyes a moment and Michael knew she was praying. He thought he should be doing the same. Praying that he’d wake up from this nightmare. But he didn’t. He just sat there and waited.

  “What are you suggesting I do, Michael?” she asked when she opened her eyes.

  “Go visit your mother in Florida.”

  “There’s an elders’ meeting in the morning and then my Bible study group tomorrow night.” Her gaze drifted to the open Bibles.

  “Call the elders of the church. Tell them to fill in for you.”

  “But my members expect me to be the one there if they need something. I can’t just take off without a good reason.”

  “What better reason do you need than staying alive?”

  Karen studied his face a long moment. “You’re trying to frighten me.”

  “Yes, I am, Karen, but I don’t know what else to do but tell you what could happen.” He leaned toward her. He had to make her see that she might be in danger. “I want to say he wouldn’t come after you, but I can’t be sure. Nobody can be sure what Jackson might do next.”

  “How many other women are you telling to leave town?”

  “What do you mean?” Karen had never shown the first indication of jealousy. Not even back when they were still dating and Alex would show up on the scene to make Michael forget Karen and everything else.

  She didn’t appear to be jealous now, merely concerned. “From what you’ve told me, it wouldn’t have to be a very direct connection. You didn’t even know the first girl and the reporter only interviewed you. Any old girlfriend or acquaintance might become a target.”

  “I know.” Michael dropped his face into his hands. She was right. He wasn’t going to be able to clear the whole town of the females he knew. He massaged his forehead and tried to think. “I don’t want anybody else to die. Not because of me.”

  “You’re not responsible, Michael. Not for any of this. You’re a victim, not the villain.” Karen moved closer to him on the couch to rub her hand up and down his back. “You want to stay in town tonight? There’s that cot in my office over at the church.”

  He raised his head to look at her. She was calm as ever, already laying the problem at the Lord’s feet in prayer. “No, I’m going to Aunt Lindy’s as soon as I go get Jasper.”

  Karen looked surprised. “You think she might be in danger too?”

  “I don’t know, Karen. I just don’t know.” He stood up. He needed to hurry. That gun on the table beside Aunt Lindy’s chair was nothing but false security. It would be useless against a killer like Jackson.

  Karen got to her feet too. “All right, Michael. I’ll contact the elders in the morning. I’ve been planning to drive down to South Carolina and check on my sister. She called tonight to say the doctor thinks her baby might come anytime now. Mother can’t make it up from Florida until next week, and Janet is nervous there by herself when Bryan is at work. She’ll be thrilled for me to come and you’ll have one less female to worry about until you catch this guy.”

  “Thank you, Karen. Until then, keep all your doors and windows locked.” He looked around at the windows. Every blind was closed and the drapes pulled.

  “I always keep my doors locked.”

  “You do?” Michael looked back at Karen.

  “Don’t look so insulted.” Karen smiled and patted his cheek. “I didn’t grow up in Hidden Springs. Besides, some people think preachers should have an open-door policy to everybody.”

  “I thought you did. You’re always counseling somebody or praying for them.”

  “It’s part of my calling to help those in trouble, but I like to see who’s at the door before I swing it open. The Lord not only gave me a heart, he gave me a brain. A woman living alone has to be sensible.”

  “You sound like Aunt Lindy.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She gave him a little push toward the door. “Now go on and get Jasper so you can get back to do guard duty over Malinda. I
promise to call 911 at the first rattle of the doorknob.”

  He hesitated at the door. “You could spend the night at Aunt Lindy’s too. She has lots of extra bedrooms.”

  She looked up at him. “This has really got you spooked.”

  “Yes.” He met her eyes.

  “I’ll pray for you. And that everybody here in Hidden Springs will be safe.”

  “That’s good, but sometimes prayers need feet. Remember how the Lord gave you that brain.” He pointed toward her head.

  She shut her eyes for a few seconds, then sighed. “Could be you’re right. Maybe I will pack up my computer and hit the road to Janet’s tonight. I’d rather drive at night anyway. My church people will understand.”

  Michael felt a rush of relief. “Call me when you get on the road and out of Hidden Springs.”

  Karen was right, Michael thought as he pulled away from her house. Jackson did have him spooked to where he couldn’t think straight. He checked the rearview mirror, but no car was following him. Still he drove around the block and past Karen’s house again. Light edged out around the blinds, but inside she’d be packing. Not because she was spooked like him but because she wanted to be with her sister. Whatever the reason, he didn’t care. Not as long as she got out of Hidden Springs. Jackson couldn’t possibly know about her sister in South Carolina.

  Maybe he was panicking. Maybe she wasn’t in any real danger. Michael fervently hoped that was so. Actually, the neighborhood looked peaceful with everybody shut inside their air-conditioned houses. Here and there, he spotted the flash of a television screen through a window. Things had changed since he was a kid when, on a hot night like this, half the town would be on their porches slapping at mosquitoes while the kids played hide-and-seek in the dark or made up ghost stories to see how scared they could get. When had kids quit doing that sort of thing?

  But tonight he was glad everybody was inside behind closed doors. Maybe locked doors. Could be the whole town had started locking up their doors. After that murder at the courthouse last year, there was a run on locks at the hardware store. Even though that murderer had been caught, perhaps, like Karen, people decided better safe than sorry. Weren’t his own doors locked now?

  The Bunco party was breaking up when he got to Betty Jean’s house. Several of the women gave him curious looks when he passed them on the front walk.

  “Why, hello, Mike.” Stella Pinkston stopped in front of him. “If I’d known you were coming by, I’d have stayed to help Betty Jean clean up.”

  Michael stepped to the side to give her plenty of room to move past him. “I’m sure she would have appreciated the help.” Mike gave her a bland smile. “Tell Ralph hello for me.” He hoped the mention of her husband’s name would slow her flirting down a little.

  “If you’re riding with me, you’ll have to come on, Stella,” Trudi Heightchew called back as she opened her car door. Trudi smiled over the top of the car at Michael. “Nice to see you, Michael. I’d love to stay and chitchat, but I’ve got to pick up the kids at Mom’s. I’m about an hour past her limit already. She’s probably ready to lock the boys in a closet by now.”

  Michael laughed. “Guess you’d better go rescue them.”

  “Rescue Mom, don’t you mean?” Trudi waved and slid under the steering wheel to start the motor.

  Michael was relieved when Stella’s high heels clattered on down the sidewalk to Trudi’s car. She let her skirt ride up on her thigh when she stepped into the car, but he pretended not to notice.

  When Michael tapped on Betty Jean’s open front door, she looked up from stuffing paper plates in a trash bag. “Michael. What are you doing here?”

  “You rushed out so fast this afternoon, I forgot to tell you something.” Michael smiled as another of Betty Jean’s guests gave her a hug and waved at him on the way out the door. He looked around. “Is that the last one?”

  “The last what?” Betty Jean laughed. “What’s the matter? All these women in one place making you edgy? You do look sort of nervous.”

  “Just worried I might mess up your good reputation.”

  “Right. We all believe that.” Betty Jean twisted the top of the trash bag closed and squeezed out the extra air before she fastened it with a twist tie. “Actually, my reputation probably soared to new heights with you showing up at this time of night. But we know you haven’t really come courting or anything.” She dropped the bag and stared at him with wide eyes. “Not more pictures already?”

  “Not yet. This guy appears to be enjoying the whole thing, but surely it’ll take him longer than a day to find his next victim. At least, we can hope so.”

  “If he’s enjoying it, why would he be so ready to jump off a bridge to stop himself?” She folded up one of the chairs. “Since you’re here, make yourself useful and help me put up the tables and chairs.”

  Michael folded up a card table and leaned it against the wall. He stared at it a minute, thinking about Betty Jean’s question. “I don’t know. Could be he’s a multiple personality or something. I should have asked that Dr. Colson if he thought that could be true. I don’t know anything about psycho killers.”

  “All I know is what you see in movies. You can always tell the bad guys there because they have scary eyes. Did Jackson have scary eyes?”

  “He looked a little strange, but then again, he intended to kill himself.” Michael folded up the other table. “I wish we’d had to drag the river for his body.”

  “Quit beating yourself over the head. You couldn’t know he was a psycho.” Betty Jean handed him the last chair to stack with the others. “You just need to catch him now. And tell me why you’re here. You didn’t come by to discuss cases with me, now did you?”

  “Well, that’s not the only reason.” Michael picked up the high school annual he’d brought with him and pointed out the picture of Jackie Johnson. “Aunt Lindy thinks this is Jackson. What do you think?”

  Betty Jean took the book and stepped closer to the lamp to study the picture. “Class of ’93. Could be the right age. Looks like his hair is brown, so that fits. Can’t tell about the eyes, weird or otherwise, but the chin and nose are sort of the same.” She looked up at Michael. “You think the Eagleton police have one of those age-progression computer programs? That could nail it for sure.”

  “Who knows whether Whitt would try that or not, but you can send the picture over tomorrow. Plus, you might check to see if there are other shots of him in clubs or sports teams, whatever.”

  Betty Jean stared back down at the picture. “It could be him. Did your Aunt Lindy remember him?” She jumped in front of his answer. “That’s a dumb question. I’m sure she did. Miss Keane remembers all her students.”

  “Yeah, she said he was a loner. Pretty much a kid who messed up most of the time.”

  “Hmm. I think my cousin, Laverne, was in this class.” Betty Jean flipped a couple of pages over. “Yep, there she is. She was class secretary when she was a senior and used to try to keep up with everybody for reunions and stuff. She might have a line on this guy. You know, where he went from here. Last I heard she was setting up a page on the internet for Hidden Springs High. Said she’d heard from some of the kids who’d moved away. Maybe he was one of them.”

  “You think so?” That sounded way too easy.

  “Well, probably not, but it’s worth a shot.” Betty Jean looked at the clock on her mantel. “Too late to call tonight, but I’ll call first thing in the morning. I can check out some things on the computer tonight. Don’t guess anybody got a fingerprint?”

  “I suppose we could have before his car disappeared.”

  “But you didn’t.” Betty Jean breathed out a sigh. “You think the hospital would have something? They might fingerprint psychiatric patients.”

  “I don’t think so. But then, I’ve never been in the psychiatric unit.”

  “Yet.” Betty Jean grinned over at him.

  “A little therapy might help me get a handle on things. Karen told me I was
spooked.”

  Betty Jean raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been to your Aunt Lindy’s and to Karen’s and now here. You doing poor lonesome women rounds?”

  “I wish that was all.” Michael reached for one of the folding chairs, opened it back up, and sat down. “Sit down a minute.”

  “Why am I not liking the look on your face?” Betty Jean dropped down on the couch facing Michael. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “You remember about how I said Dr. Colson called to warn me that Jackson might be trying to get my attention. Whitt said the same thing. About Jackson targeting me. Not the girls he’s killed, but me.”

  “You’re still breathing. Dead-on-your-feet tired, but breathing.”

  Michael leaned a little closer to her. “Whitt thinks the guy might pick somebody I know for his next victim.”

  “But you know everybody in Hidden Springs. No strangers here.”

  “You hit the nail on the head. Guess that won’t make it too hard for Jackson to find a new target.”

  Betty Jean jerked up straighter on the couch. “You think I might be a target?”

  “I don’t know, Betty Jean. But I think it would be wise for you not to take any chances. Nobody knows what this guy might do next.”

  Betty Jean sprang to her feet as if her couch had suddenly sprouted spikes. “You stay right here and don’t go anywhere. Not till I pack a few things and then you can follow me over to Mom and Dad’s house. They’ll be in bed, but I’ll just wake them up.”

  “At last. Somebody sensible,” Michael called after her as she headed down the hall toward her bedroom.

  She yelled back, “Karen wasn’t worried?”

  “More concerned that I was acting so strange than about herself.”

  “She hadn’t seen the pictures.” Betty Jean stuck her head out the bedroom door. “You don’t honestly think Miss Keane is in danger, do you? Don’t these kinds of killers follow patterns? Like this crazy would pick all pretty young things.” Betty Jean made a sound somewhere between a giggle and a hiccup. “Guess that would leave me out too.”