“It sure did. There were less than five people in the store an hour ago. They’re waiting for Keller to make a statement.”
“I hope it’s worth the wait,” I said as I removed my cap and placed it on the counter.
“I hope so, too,” Merle said. “Do you want a drink?”
“I’ll take a cider—from the barrel if you got it,” I said as I sat down on the stool, emotionally drained. Although the cider didn’t taste the best, I knew it would help dull the pain.
I watched Merle stroll to the back of the store and come back with a full glass of cider. He set it on the counter in front of me. “This is on Gerry. I filled two jugs from the barrel in the cellar.”
I lifted the glass and held it under my nose. The scent slightly burned the inside of my nose. I glanced through the smoke; no one was looking my way. The reporters were talking among themselves. I turned and took three big swigs. The glass was empty in less than two minutes.
“Thanks; how about another one?” I asked and shoved the glass toward him. The cider’s warmth began to travel through my cold bones, relaxing my rattled nerves.
Merle picked up my glass and headed to the back of the store again. A minute later he walked back with a full glass and set it down in front of me. “So you drove into Batavia to tell your mom?”
“Yeah,” I replied softly. My eyes began to swell with tears. I picked up my glass and drank half of it down. “I never saw my mother cry that hard. Not even when my father died.”
Merle placed his hands on the counter and stared at me for a moment. “I’m sure she did, but you didn’t see it.” Merle poured himself a glass. “This is my third glass. It’s helping me keep it together,” he said, drinking half of it down and setting it on the counter.
“I just need to ask: how are Gerry and Grandma taking it?”
“They’re devastated. Gerry has been upstairs with her since he came back to the store. Senior and I were up there with them for about an hour. Then he gave his statement and left. That’s when all these reporters started arriving. Some of them drove in from Buffalo and Rochester.”
I nodded. “What about Cliff and Harry?” I wiped away the tear that trickled down my cheek.
“They’re on their way here. They should be here soon.”
“I just came down to give my statement. Where’s Keller? ”
“He’s in the house. Joseph walked in the door about ten minutes ago, too.” Merle pointed. “Keller is using the kitchen for an office.”
“Did you already give your statement?”
“Yeah. I was one of the first.”
“All right. Is anyone in there now?” I asked as I finished my cider and began to feel some of the tension leave my body.
“No, I don’t think so. Irvin just walked out before you came in.”
“Would you hold my gun?” I asked Merle.
“Yeah,” he replied as I handed it to him. “I’ll put it back here.” He set it on the back counter.
“Thanks. Let me go do this then.” I wiped my eyes and pulled myself together as I headed over to the door. I took a deep breath and knocked at the door. Moments later, the door swung open to an officer who was standing there.
“I’m here to give my statement,” I said nervously.
“Your name?”
“Fritzelle Reynolds.”
“He’s on the list,” a voice said from behind the officer.
The door opened wider, and there seated at the kitchen table was District Attorney Ronald Keller, along with two other officers in uniform and one in plain clothes. Off to the side was the stenographer.
“Mr. Reynolds.” Keller reached out and shook my hand. “This is Deputy Ornsby, Captain Robbins, and Detective Dawson.”
I nodded as I recalled meeting Deputy Ornsby the day Flo was found in her fruit cellar and seeing him again at the Nelsons’ house the day of the fire. The stenographer glanced up at me for a moment, adjusted her round framed glasses, and looked down at her keys. I also remembered her from the John Doe Proceedings.
“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” Keller gestured to the seat directly across from him.
I nodded anxiously and sat down. Joseph entered the room from the parlor. He gave me a quick nod as Keller handed him a file. Then he left the room again. A few seconds later, he walked past me and left out the same door I had just entered from.
I nodded. “Yes, sir. I worked for Miss Kingsley.”
“Your mother is Ella?”
“Yes, sir, that is correct.”
“All right, Mr. Reynolds. We want a detailed statement from you, starting with the afternoon of today, March 11th, the day of these horrible murders. This is so that we may attempt to find out all occurrences that happened in the village of Linden in order to discover who committed this crime.”
“Yes, sir, I understand,” I said as my nerves began to settle down from the cider.
“I will ask you a number of questions and I would like you to respond truthfully and accurately.”
I nodded, “Yes, sir.”
Keller flipped over the paper on his notepad and wrote something down. I could hear the muffled voices coming from the store as I waited for the questions to begin. It had been a while since I’d been in the Morgans’ living quarters. Nothing had changed. I could see the photo of Grandma and Grandpa Harrison hanging on the wall by the window in the parlor. I couldn’t help but think of Grandma Harrison. When she called down looking for Martha, she was probably being murdered at that moment. It all seemed like a nightmare.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen years old.”
“You live in Linden, NY?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“All my life.”
“Where do you live?”
“On Linden Road.”
“Where do you work?”
“I work for my Uncle John on our family farm in Bergen.”
“Are you single?”
“I have a girlfriend.”
“Her name?”
“Valerie Kessler.”
“Gordon Kessler, Senior’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
I glanced over at the stenographer, trying to remember her name. Her fingers seemed to move swiftly over the keys. The tick, tick, tick filled the silence lingering between Keller’s questions and my answers.
“Did you work on your uncle’s farm this afternoon?”
“Yes,” I replied as the warmth of the cider began to paint a fog over the memory of the night. The sound of the tapping began to distract me. Suddenly, I remembered the stenographer’s name was Francine, Francine Whittle.
As Keller’s questions continued, I eventually told them all about how Martha left for milk and didn’t come back, and pulled more of the night’s details out of my clouded head. Again, like the John Doe Proceeding, Keller’s focus was on Anton Mitchell and Junior Kessler. After they were finished with their questions and I told them all that I knew, Keller glanced at the officers and then at Detective Dawson. Dawson nodded.
“Mr. Reynolds, thank you for your time and the account of your day’s occurrences. If we need to ask you any more questions, we’ll be contacting you.”
“All right, I’ll be available if you need me.” I rose from my seat, walked back into the store, and closed the door behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joseph walk into the store.
I sat back down at the stool and Joseph sat down next to me. “I was over at the Wilsons’. They just took the bodies to the coroner’s office. It was much worse than I ever imagined.”
I nodded as Merle walked over and set another glass of cider down on the counter in front of me. “For my mother’s sake, please don’t tell her what you saw.” I picked up my glass.
Joseph shook his head. “I wasn’t planning on telling her. I’m not even going to tell her that I was in the house.”
I drank half my glass down and rested my eyes on Joseph. “Does Ke
ller have any ideas of who did this? The only two he asked about were Anton Mitchell and Junior Kessler. After the John Doe Proceedings, I wasn’t too surprised by it.”
“I know. And neither one had any ill feelings for Helen or Travis that anyone would admit,” Joseph said.
“Admit? Huh. There were no ill feelings with any of them. Also, I just saw Junior, and he didn’t even know what had happened until Senior woke him up. I saw Junior go into his house just before I headed over to the store. He wasn’t anywhere near the Wilsons’ house.”
Joseph shook his head in disgust. “I don’t… I just don’t know.”
My eyes roamed the room as the smoke stung them. I tried to listen to the conversations, but didn’t hear much. “Look at all these reporters. This story is going to be in all the papers.”
“A triple homicide? It’ll be a big news story!” Joseph nodded.
I glanced over at Joseph. “Yeah, my life feels like a news story,” I said under my breath.
Joseph stared at me with a slight squint out of the corner of his eye.
“I guess we’ve all got a story, don’t we?” I asked in a matter-of-fact tone, not expecting an answer. Then I drank down the rest of my cider and looked over at Joseph for a moment. “Some are just bloodier than others.” I set my glass down for Merle to fill it again.
Twenty-Five
The layers of dark gray clouds hinted at another blanket of snow. The drive on the icy road from Bergen to Batavia seemed never ending. My eyelids felt like tiny lead weights bobbing on a scale.
For a moment, they shut.
Suddenly, the car shook as I drove over a small mound of ice in the center of the road. I caught myself swerving into the oncoming lane.
I felt sick to my stomach from all the cider I drank. But I didn’t regret it. It helped deaden the grief and anger.
The overnight watch with Senior and a long day at the farm had caught up with me. It had been almost twenty-four hours since I had last seen my mother. Even though I was exhausted, and all I wanted to do was sleep, I was more concerned about her condition.
I pulled up in front of the house, stepped out of the car, and took a few deep breaths of the brisk air to clear my head. Feeling a little refreshed, I made my way to the front door and knocked. Moments later, the door swung open, and I was surprised to see Valerie standing there.
“What’re you doing here? I mean, I’m glad to see you, but I didn’t expect—”
“It all happened so fast. Come inside and I’ll tell you.” Valerie rubbed her arms and closed the door behind me. As I shrugged my coat off and stamped the snow off my boots, bits of ice scattered onto the small black rug. I untied the laces and set my boots next to the foyer wall. Valerie grabbed my coat and hung it in the closet under the stairway.
I leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. “So tell me...” I grasped her hand and we wandered into the warm parlor. The house was so much more than our house. A large black and white tiled floor continued into the parlor. The burgundy area rug below encompassed the soft white Victorian sofa, the coffee table, and two high-backed upholstered chairs. We sat down on the sofa.
“Well, let me tell you: Ted called this morning to tell me that he is moving his mother in with him and his wife. He is going to sell his mother’s house when all of the negative attention stops.”
“That worked out. Your parents and I weren’t going to let you stay there alone anyway.”
“I know, they told me it was for the best. Okay, let me finish telling you… So, after we finished dinner, your mother called to check on us. My mom told your mom that I wasn’t going to be working for Mrs. Adleman anymore. After my mother hung up the phone, she told me to pack all my clothes and that I have a new job. Then she drove me here to meet Joseph’s parents. They told us that the last girl that had been working for them got married just after Christmas, and they’d been looking to hire another girl. Your mother let them know that I was available, so here I am!” Valerie smiled.
“All of this happened today?” I asked, overflowing with relief. “You know this was my mother’s doing, right?”
Valerie nodded. “Yeah, I know. But I’m just grateful. So after we got here, Joseph’s mother showed me around the house and my new room upstairs. Then my mom left to stay with my Aunt Rosie in Albion for a few days. Or maybe longer.”
“I’m so relieved!” I said and yawned. “Then it looks like I’ll be staying here, too.” I leaned in, gave her a loving kiss, and just held her. The warmth of the fire soothed me. “Where’s my mom?” I asked.
“She’s upstairs, lying down. She didn’t sleep much last night.”
“I didn’t either. Where’s Joseph’s parents?”
“They left for the market about an hour ago. They should be back soon.” Valerie gazed around the room. “Isn’t this a beautiful house?”
“It sure is!” I rested my hand on her knee as I looked into her tired eyes. “How did you sleep last night? I left this morning before sunrise.”
“I slept a couple of hours.” Valerie fixed her eyes on mine. “You look tired! Your eyes look like they’re going to bleed, they’re so red. And you have dark circles under your eyes… You need to get some rest,” she insisted.
“I know; I’m exhausted!” I leaned back against the arm of the sofa and placed my head on the velvet pillow. I closed my burning eyes for a few seconds to cool them. Forcing my eyelids to lift, I looked over at Valerie. “What was it like when you left there today?”
“It was quiet; too quiet. When my mom and I left, we drove out Chapman Road so we could see what was happening. The Wilsons’ house is all boarded up, and there were a few cars parked outside the house.”
“Reporters and police?”
“Well, they were there too. But we also saw a couple cars stop in front of the Wilsons’ house and then drive away. I think they were just nosing around.”
“I’m sure there’ll be more of that.”
“Especially after today’s paper.” Valerie swiftly walked over to the dining room table. “Read this.”
I sat up, and she handed me theBatavia Daily Newsevening edition. The front headline read,Linden Triple Slayer Eludes Net. The subheads read,Authorities are Determined Mysterious Linden Murderer Shall Not Escape Justice. The next line read,Investigation in Full Swing—Offer of $1,000 Reward. And the next line,Autopsy Findings – Two Die from Bullet Wounds – Third Clubbed to Death.
I continued to read the article, and then set the paper on the coffee table. I was drained and kept wishing it was all just a nightmare. All that I knew and loved—people and my home—were reduced to headlines and a list of facts. The screams, the tears, and the terror remained hidden behind the words.
“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” Valerie’s voice became shaky as she sat back down next to me. A tear made its way down her cheek. “I feel so awful for the Morgans.”
I reached over and held her hand. “I know; we all do.”
“Your mom called Gerry today.”
“She did?”
“Yeah.”
“How’re they doing?”
“They’re doing the best that they can. Mr. Morgan is trying to stay strong for his sons and for Grandma. He’s put up the thousand dollar reward. And he closed the store for now.”
“He did?”
Valerie nodded. “Maybe a reward will help.”
“Any word on when the funerals are going to be?”
“The Wilsons’ are going to be on Friday and Martha’s is going to be on Saturday.”
I shook my head. “I’ll have to let Uncle John know that I won’t be there on Friday or Saturday. I’m not leaving my mom’s side. It’s going to be a really hard two days for her. He’ll understand. He’s really upset about all of this too.”
I heard the door open in the kitchen and two sets of feet stomping. Minutes later, Mrs. O’Hara entered the dining room, untying the scarf around her head.
“Hello, Fritz. I’m glad that you’re here.
Did you meet our new house girl?” She gave me a smile, and then set her coat and scarf over the dining room chair.
“Yes, I did. Good choice.” I smiled.
“We think so, too.” She grinned. “Our future granddaughter-in-law needed a job, and we had an opening to fill.”
Valerie glanced over at me with her mouth open and eyes wide.
“What did you tell her?” I whispered.
“I didn’t tell her anything,” she whispered back.
I nodded, pressing my lips together. “Mom,” I whispered.
“We’re going to make supper. We bought a smoked ham. You two visit until it’s ready,” Mrs. O’Hara said. “Where’s Ella?”
“She’s lying down upstairs,” Valerie replied.
“I hope she’s finally getting some rest. She really needs it.” She walked toward the kitchen.
Valerie stood up. “Wait, shouldn’t I be helping you with supper?”
Mrs. O’ Hara turned back around. “No, no. You can start on Monday. For now, I just want you to get acquainted with our home… and your new home.”
Valerie sat back down. “They’re really nice people,” she said quietly.
“They are.” I nodded. “They’ve been so good to my mom and me, and also now to you.” I smiled.
The sound of creaking stairs came from the foyer. My mother was slowly coming down the wooden staircase.
“Mom!”
“Hi, honey.” Her soft voice drifted tenderly through the air as she walked through the parlor doorway.
Her eyes were red and puffy. Her hair was tousled, and her skin was sallow. She walked over to the back of the sofa, leaned over, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“I came right from the farm. I wanted to see how you were.”
My mother walked past the fireplace over to one of the high-backed chairs, moved the pillow to the side, and sat down across from Valerie and me. “I was up all night last night. I finally fell asleep for a couple hours.” She sat there quietly for a moment. “I will miss them terribly.” She began to weep a little.
“We’ll get through this,” I said, trying to reassure her and be strong.
She nodded. “We have to,” she whispered. “We have to.”
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