I woke up suddenly. My heart was thrashing. I knew I was dreaming, but I couldn’t remember about what, which was probably for the best. The morning light began to wipe away the darkness. I grabbed my pocket watch off my night stand. 5:20. Quickly, I washed up and dressed.
Before going downstairs, I opened my mother’s bedroom door. “Mom,” I whispered. “I’m leaving.”
She turned her head toward me, yawned, and stretched. Then she threw her covers off. “Okay, let me make you breakfast.”
“I’ll eat with John,” I said as we headed downstairs. “What time did Joseph leave?”
“It must have been close to eleven,” she replied as we entered the kitchen.
I saw the shotgun leaning against the wall under the window. Then I noticed a glass on the counter with a flask-shaped bottle half full of an amber colored liquid.
I strolled over to the counter. Then I opened the bottle, held it under my nose, and whiffed. The scent burned my nostrils. I set it down and glanced over at my mother with question.
“It’s bourbon whisky,” she said. “He brought it with him.” She swiftly placed the glass in the sink and the bottle in the cupboard, making it disappear.
My mother followed me to the door. I slipped my boots on, and she handed me my jacket. I grabbed the gun and handed it to her. “Keep this by you all day and lock the door behind me.”
“I will,” she said and gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I stepped out the door.
The sky had fully ripened into morning. But the news of Florence’s death had turned Linden into a darker place: terror, an unwelcome guest, had moved into our lives, holding everyone’s minds hostage.
Eleven
After work, I pulled into the driveway next to Joseph’s car. As I entered the house, the aroma of beef gravy greeted me at the door. Joseph was sitting at the kitchen table with the same man who I had spotted walking up Florence’s cellar stairs.
“Hello, Joseph,” I said. My heart sped up a bit as I looked around for my mother.
“Fritz, this is District Attorney Ronald Keller.” Joseph and Keller rose from their chairs. Keller extended his hand to shake mine.
I turned to Joseph. “Where’s my mom?”
“She’s upstairs changing,” Joseph replied.
“Fritz, I just have a few questions for you regarding Florence Kingsley,” Keller said and sat back down. He had a pad of paper in front of him and a pencil in his hand.
“Wasn’t someone just arrested?” I asked with confusion. “Martin Nelson stopped by last night and told us there had been an arrest made.”
“A man was picked up on vagrancy, and they are holding him. We’re still looking for two more men that exited the train here. I’m not convinced that he or they had anything to do with the murder of Miss Kingsley. Right now, we have a lot of questions to ask the residents of Linden,” Keller said in a slightly deeper authoritative voice.
“Okay, but I don’t know if I have anything to say that’s going to help,” I replied, breaking into a sweat.
“We’ve been interviewing everyone,” Keller said.
“I haven’t had any contact with Florence in the past few weeks, other than seeing her outside working the farm. I haven’t talked to her lately,” I replied as I shook off my boots and coat, then sat down.
“You and Mr. Gordon Kessler Junior worked for Miss Kingsley as farmhands, correct?” Keller asked.
“Yes, that is correct, sir, we did, but only when she needed some extra help,” I replied.
“I spoke to Junior about an hour ago,” Keller said.
I looked over at Joseph. “Are you working on Florence’s case, too?” I asked before thinking whether I should or should not have asked.
Joseph glanced over at District Attorney Keller and then focused his eyes on me. “Well, no. I finished at the office and was on my way to your house. Mr. Keller told me that you and your mother were going to be questioned, so I came along. Mr. Keller just finished interviewing your mother before you walked in the door,” Joseph explained.
“I read Corporal Whitehaven’s report. How long has it been since you worked for Miss Kingsley?” Keller asked.
“It’s probably been two years, maybe more,” I said, with no idea who Corporal Whitehaven was.
“Do you know if Junior would have reason to hurt Miss Kingsley?” Keller asked.
My blood turned to ice from the shock of the question. “Junior? Hurt Florence? No! No, he would never—”
“Do you know if Junior had any arguments or any frustrations with Miss Kingsley or any of her brothers?” Keller asked.
“No, of course not. Junior has always been kind to Florence and was always neighborly with her brothers. She always paid us for our work. There were never any problems. So no, he never had a reason to have any bad feelings toward Florence or her brothers,” I replied adamantly.
“Can you think of any reason, any reason at all, that Junior could have been at odds with Miss Kingsley in the past month or two?” Keller asked.
“No, not at all,” I replied. I tried to stay composed about his line of questioning. “Why are you asking so many questions about Junior?” My voice overflowed with aggravation. “He would never hurt or kill anyone,” I insisted as Joseph gave a hint of a glare and slowly shook his head. I knew by his eyes that I’d better hold in my anger. Even though Junior was older than me, I always felt sort of protective of him because he was different from everyone. It always took longer for him to understand things. He never had any friends, and not many people liked him. He was never the friendly type, but I always got along with him.
“We have to do a thorough investigation,” Keller replied with a lack of emotion, still writing. “Okay, do you know of anyone who had a reason to murder Miss Florence Kingsley?”
I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead and on my back. I did have an answer for that particular question. I nodded my head. “Yes,” I replied softly. The answer seemed to tighten my vocal cords.
Keller looked up from his notepad and leaned back in his seat for a moment. His eyes shifted over to Joseph for a second and then rested back on mine.
“Anton Mitchell.” The words fell cautiously from my lips.
Keller nodded as if he seemed to already know Anton had a reason. “Why Anton?”
“Flo told the dry agents that he’s been selling his cider. He was blazing mad about it.”
Keller glanced over at Joseph and nodded, then set his eyes back on me. I couldn’t help but wonder what they were both thinking.
“What can you tell me about Anton Mitchell?”
By their behavior, looking at each other and nodding after almost every answer I gave, I was sure Keller and Joseph could tell me more about Anton than I could tell them.
“He’s been in trouble with the law before.”
Keller kept writing, and then looked up at me. He gestured to me with his pencil in hand. “That’s an accurate statement.”
I nodded my head. “Yeah, I know he’s been in trouble… for stealing, I think.”
“By the way, Anton’s name has come up today.” Keller continued to write. “More than once.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said. “Some people around here don’t care for him much. They think he can’t be trusted. And I can’t blame them.”
“What do you think?” Keller asked.
“I don’t really trust him either,” I replied. “But even though he was angry with Flo, I don’t think he’d go so far as tokill her over it.”
“Fritz, is that you?” my mother called from upstairs.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I called out.
“Well, I think I have enough for now. I’m going to be on my way,” Keller rose from the seat, and Joseph followed his lead.
My mother entered the kitchen wearing a long black skirt and white blouse. She looked pretty.
“Thank you for waiting,” my mother said to Joseph. “I had to change into something much more presentable.”
&n
bsp; “I’m all through here,” Keller said as he tucked his notepad under his arm and placed his pencil in his inside shirt pocket.
Keller opened the door and turned to me. “Fritz, we will talk again.”
“All right,” I said.
Keller stepped out the door and closed it behind him.
“Joseph, please sit down. I’ll dish up your supper.”
I watched Joseph as he sat back down with his eyes resting on me. I assumed he was trying to figure out what I knew that he didn’t.
Joseph looked directly at me. “Keller was watching your every move,” he said with an unsettlingly calm voice.
“Why? I ain’t got anything to hide!” I struck back like a cornered snake.
“He can read more about your behavior than what you’re saying to him. So be careful. It’s his job to figure out who’s telling him the truth and who is being deceitful.” Joseph stared intently into my eyes. “And I’m starting to become good at it, too.”
Silence filled the room. All that I could hear was the sound of the spoon hitting the side of the pot as I thought about what I said to Keller.
“Well, he can keep reading, because I ain’t got nothing to hide.” My eyes shifted to my mother as she dished up the gravy. I thought she might come to my rescue, but apparently she was staying out of it. I turned back to Joseph. “I thought that an arrest was made and that was going to be the end of it.”
“Vagrancy charges are not murder charges. The deputies and the troopers were ordered to pick up every vagrant they find within a ten mile radius of the Kingsley Farm,” Joseph said.
“Why so many questions about Junior?” I asked.
“Ron thought he was acting rather odd when he questioned him,” Joseph replied.
My mother set two plates piled with shredded beef and biscuits, smothered with gravy, in front of me and Joseph. My mouth began to water from the aroma of the gravy.
“Thank you, Ella.” Joseph smiled at my mother and turned back to me.
“Thanks, Mom.” I picked up my fork. “Junior was always different. That’s the way he is,” I replied. “I’m sure he wasn’tacting at all!” I said adamantly.
My mother turned to Joseph. “Junior has always been more of a loner. So Fritzy is probably right. He was acting odd because that’s the way he is.”
“So they don’t think it was a vagrant who killed Florence?” I asked Joseph as my mother set her plate on the table and sat down.
“Right now, it’s not looking that way due to the nature of the crime, and nothing seemed to be stolen. There doesn’t seem to be a motive. And as for Anton Mitchell, we know that he’s no stranger to the law. Mostly petty crimes though, just a nuisance to the sheriff’s department from what Ron said earlier,” Joseph said.
I glanced over at my mother.
“He’s been in trouble off and on since I can remember,” she added. “A lot of people around here don’t like him. He’s gruff and has been known to curse at people. I just avoid him when I see him.”
“I don’t think he knows how to stay out of trouble,” I said.
“Oh, Gloria called earlier,” my mother said. “The service for Florence is going to be in her home on Thursday. Let’s just hope they make an arrest soon.”
There was a knock at the door. I stood up from the table and opened the door. Valerie was standing with a shotgun over her shoulder with an anxious look on her face.
“Valerie! Is everything all right?” I asked, staring at the barrel of the gun.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your supper,” Valerie said to my mother and Joseph and then turned to me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I looked back at my mother and Joseph. My mother nodded. “That’s fine, Valerie. Honey, shut the door. I don’t want the cold air in here.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” I slipped on my boots, stepped out onto the porch, and looked at Valerie. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine. I just stopped to tell you that Mrs. Adleman called my mother. She’s scared to be alone, so she asked my mother if I could stay with her. That’s why I’m bringing the shotgun,” Valerie replied.
“She did? Well, I guess I can’t blame her.”
“My father showed me how to use the gun again before I left.”
“Well, keep it with you, and make sure all the windows and doors are locked.”
“I will. She sleeps in the downstairs bedroom. So I’ll just sleep on her sofa with the gun next to me,” Valerie replied.
“I know how scared you were. Are you sure you are going to be all right over there?”
“I feel better now that my father showed me how to use this.” She raised the gun off the ground. “I remembered everything Junior taught me.”
“Speaking of your brother: I was just questioned by the District Attorney, and he asked me a few questions about Junior.”
“He did? Why would he ask about him? He would never hurt Florence,” Valerie said with a huff.
“I think it was because Junior used to work for her. Anton’s name came up, too.”
“I’m not surprised about that. My father said that he probably did it.”
“I don’t know. I’d hate to think… I’d hate to think that anyone I knew could kill someone.” I shook my head. “Come on, I’ll walk you over.” I reached for Valerie’s hand, and we walked down my driveway and across the road. We stopped on the small sidewalk that led to the porch. I leaned in and kissed her. Then I wrapped my arms around her and held her for a minute. Her warmth felt good against my cold body. “I’m just across the road if you need me.”
She nodded and glanced over at my house.
“Well, you better head inside. She’s probably wondering why we’re standing out here—and me without a coat.” Shivering, I leaned over and gave her another kiss. “Call me if you need me. Or yell out the front door. I’ll hear you.”
“I will,” Valerie said, and then she turned and headed towards the door. Then she opened the screen door and knocked. When the door opened, she looked back, waved to me, and then shut the door behind her.
I put my hands in my front pocket as I ambled back to the house. I was about to place my foot on the first step of the porch when I heard a stick crack. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow.
I froze.
I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a silhouette of a man standing near the grove of trees at the end of our property. I ran up the steps, flung the door open, and quickly closed it behind me. I was out of breath.
Mom and Joseph stared at me, puzzled. Without saying a word, I turned off the kitchen light and looked out the window above the sink. There was no one there.
Twelve
Merle’s eyes fixed on mine. He nodded as he leaned against Florence’s porch railing. His parents and sister were already in the line for Flo’s memorial service.
“Hey, Merle,” I said as I walked up the porch steps with one hand in my pocket and the other holding Valerie’s hand. I let go of her hand for a moment, reached out, and shook Merle’s hand.
“Hello, Mrs. Reynolds. Valerie,” Merle nodded.
“Hello, Merle,” my mother said quietly before strolling over to his mother and father.
Valerie briefly smiled at Merle. “Hi, Merle.”
Mertie came around behind us, reached her hand out, and warmly patted Merle’s shoulder as she passed by him, clutching Senior’s arm.
Valerie and I stood with Merle on the porch. There was a lack of words to say. I took a deep breath and nervously pulled out my pocket watch. 9:22. The service was to start at 9:30.
“We planned on being here earlier to make sure we found a place to sit,” Merle blurted out. “But I told Martha I’d wait for a delivery she had coming in on the nine o’clock train. So I locked up for her after it came in. We just got here about ten minutes ago.”
“I’m sure she appreciated that,” I nodded. “Did Grandma Harrison come with them?”
“No, Martha thought it would be too much for her.”
After waiting a couple of minutes, Valerie, my mother, Mertie, Senior and I entered Florence’s house. All of the folding wooden chairs were almost filled in both of Florence’s front rooms.
Colton Daly, the new pastor of Middlebury Baptist Church, was standing near the casket directing people to the few remaining seats in the room across from the parlor.
Valerie gasped and buried her face into my shoulder. She began to cry. “Her face, her face, it’s—”
“Shhh, I know.” I placed my hand on her soft golden hair and tried to comfort her. I flashed a look at my mother and felt heat come over my face. “They didn’t close it?” I whispered.
My mother stared at the casket. I could see the disbelief on her face. She turned to me, noticeably shaken and pale. “I never expected—” Tears filled her eyes. She glanced over at Florence’s family with sadness as we made our way to the last few empty seats and sat down.
“Why didn’t they close the casket? This isn’t the way we should all have to remember her!” I whispered to my mother.
My mother placed her finger near her lips. “Shhh. It must be what the family wanted,” she replied quietly, and then pulled her handkerchief out of her sleeve to dab her eyes.
“I don’t know what they were thinking,” I whispered in Valerie’s ear.
“I had no idea her face…” Valerie wiped her eyes. “What kind of person…”
“I know,” I whispered.
“The whole side her face—” Valerie cried.
“Just try not to look.”
I looked into the parlor across from us and saw Gerry and Martha. Helen and Travis were sitting behind them. Then I saw Helen tap Martha on the shoulder and point toward us. They sort of smiled at us. My mother gave them a slight wave.
With a keen eye, I scanned both rooms, hoping to find Junior. I didn’t see him in either room. I didn’t see Anton either, but I didn’t really expect him to show up.
Shadow by the Bridge Page 9