“What time is it?” my mother asked.
I yanked out my pocket watch. “It’s almost 6:30.”
“It’s late. Joseph ought to be home soon.” Mom wiped her teary eyes. “Is that the eveningDaily?”
Valerie nodded. “Yes,” she replied nervously.
My mother reached over to pick it up.
Like a striking snake, I reached over and slapped my hand on top of the paper. “Mom, you don’t need to read it. You don’t need to make it worse on yourself.”
“Fritz,” she raised her voice a bit. “Please; I understand what you are trying to do, and I appreciate it.” She pulled the paper out from under my hand, and I pulled my hand away. “They were my dearest friends, and I am going to read the paper!”
“All right,” I said, feeling overpowered, and then I watched her eyes as she read the front page.
“No arrests yet.” The quiet words seeped out with sadness.
“No, not yet,” Valerie said softly.
Mrs. O’ Hara stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hand with a towel. “Ella,” she said caringly and strolled over to my mom. “Were you able to get some rest, dear?”
“A little,” my mother replied.
Mrs. O’Hara leaned over the back of the sofa and gave Mom a hug. “I’m so glad. We’re going to get through this. It is going to take some time, but we will get through it.”
Mrs. O’Hara’s concerned eyes held mine.
“We will… We’ll get through it.” I gave Mrs. O’Hara a slight nod.
“Are you hungry, Ella?”
“No, not really,” Mom replied.
“Well, I want you to try to eat a little so you don’t find yourself ill. Supper should be ready in about twenty minutes or so,” Mrs. O’Hara said.
“Okay, I’ll try,” Mom said.
“That’s good. We bought a nice ham, and it’s in the oven,” Mrs. O’Hara said and strolled toward the kitchen.
My mother set the newspaper back down on the coffee table. “I’m not really hungry.”
“You have to eat, or you’ll get weak and sick,” Valerie insisted.
“My stomach has been aching all day,” my mother whispered.
“Mom, just try to eat a little. Your stomach will feel better once you get some food in it.”
A few minutes later, the aroma of hickory smoked ham began to fill the dining room and parlor.
I heard the back door open and more stomping on the floor, followed by the mutter of Joseph’s voice. Valerie and my mother walked into the dining room. My mother opened the hutch, pulled out a stack of plates, and set them on the dining room table. Joseph shook off his coat. Valerie reached out and took Joseph’s coat and grabbed Mrs. O’Hara’s coat off the back of the dining room chair. Then Valerie hung them in the foyer closet. Joseph gave my mother a kiss and a long hug. My eyes met his, and he nodded.
Carrying his briefcase in one hand and loosening his bow tie in the other, he walked over to the sofa, then pulled his tie off. “How’s your mom doing?” he asked in a quiet voice so that she didn’t hear him.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Let’s go into the library so I can put this away and we can talk.”
“Sure.” I followed him.
Joseph shut the door behind us, and then set his briefcase on the large, sophisticated mahogany desk that sat in front of the wooden-paned window. My eyes circled the room, which was lined with shelves and shelves of books. Each shelf was filled with pages and pages written about medicine and law, and works of literature. I’d never seen so many books in one room. “Your mom doesn’t need to hear any more of the details.”
“She read the newspaper. I tried to stop her, but she read it anyway.”
“Well, you can’t stop her from reading the paper, but she doesn’t need to hear us talk about it.” Joseph walked over to the table that sat against the wall opposite the leather sofa. He picked up the cantor, poured a glass of golden-brown liquid, and then handed it to me. “Here, you look like you could use a drink. It’s bourbon.”
“I’ve never had it.” I placed the drink under my nose. It had a sharp, spicy aroma and a little bit of caramel mixed with it. I took a sip and pressed my lips together. “It has a strong burn to it.” After a minute, I took another few sips and began to enjoy the sweet flavor it left on my tongue. “How’re you able to buy alcohol?”
“As you know, my father is a doctor; he has a special license to prescribe bourbon for medicinal purposes. I’m sure it tastes a lot better than that cider you drink.” He nodded and gestured toward the sofa for me to sit.
With my glass in hand, I nodded in agreement. He was right, it did taste smooth. Then I lowered myself to the sofa. “Were you in Linden today?” I asked, and sipped more bourbon. After only a few sips, it began to pleasantly warm me from the inside out. I understood why Joseph’s father prescribed it. It was the medicine I needed.
Joseph turned the russet colored leather chair that was sitting in front of the desk so that he faced toward me. “Part of the day, I was. Keller was still taking statements when I left.”
“I read in the paper that the autopsies were already done?”
“Yeah, Keller had the reports this afternoon.”
“Did you read them?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I read ’em,” he answered, grimly.
“I’m only asking because I read in the paper that Helen and Travis were shot and Martha was beaten. I thought that they were all shot.”
“No, Travis was shot in the neck, at least four or five times,” Joseph said. “The coroner couldn’t even determine exactly how many… I’m not sure I should be telling you all of this because it’s not public record yet, but I trust you.”
“Youcan trust me.”
“I know I can.” Joseph nodded. “Helen died from a single gunshot wound to the face. So, it’s possible that, when Mrs. Morgan walked in on the perpetrator, he had run out of bullets, panicked, and beat her with the closest object he could find—the blood covered adz handle that was found in the bedroom.” He sipped from his glass.
“You’re not going to tell my mother any of this, are you? She doesn’t need to know the details.”
He shook his head. “Of course not.” His voice was adamant.
“That’s good. What was it like there today, with everyone in a panic?” I took another sip from my glass. Each tip of the glass was better than the last.
“Yeah, they want an arrest, and there’s a lot of hysteria—and anger, of course. Captain Robbins is trying to ease their fears, and announced that he’s putting a three-man outpost on horseback twenty-four hours a day there.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “That’s good to hear.”
“At least it gives them a little relief… we hope, anyway.” Joseph finished his glass and poured another one. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
I nodded. “I will.”
“I got a question,” Joseph said with a slight squint in his eyes as he leaned against the table that held the bourbon.
My eyes rested on his as I waited for the question to follow.
“Is Leon a big talker?”
I shrugged my shoulders, trying to figure out where he was going with that question. “I don’t know that he’s a big talker, but he doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. So yeah, I guess you could say that. Why?”
“Well, he’s been boasting about being the last one to see Travis alive.”
“Honestly, I never gave it much thought as to who saw Travis last,” I said. “I think it was Merle who saw him walk past the store after he got off the train. Maybe Leon saw Travis go into the house. The Chapmans live across the road from the Wilsons. And Leon is usually outside working around the same time Travis gets home from the railroad, so he probably did see him walk into his house.”
Joseph took a deep breath and sipped on his drink. “Or maybe he wasin the house when Travis got home.”
Puzzled, I locked eyes with Joseph. “Leo
n? No, he might like to shoot his mouth off from time to time, but murder? Especially a triple murder,” I said as I shook my head in disbelief. “Besides, he thinks a lot of Martha.” I tipped on my bourbon a little more, disturbed by the thought.
“It’s just one of the theories Keller and Dawson came up with, because his story doesn’t match up with Merle’s.”
“What story?”
“Leon claims he stopped into the store around supper time, but Merle can’t recall that he did,” Joseph replied as he brought his drink to his lips for a moment, then took a sip. “And Keller and Dawson aren’t ruling out that there was more than one perpetrator.”
Felix? “I didn’t see Leon or Felix until Everett ran over to Felix’s and got them. Are they suspects?”
Joseph shook his head and finished his drink. “No, not in particular, but Keller isn’t taking anyone off his list who wasn’t at Morgan’s store at this point… I was just curious. I don’t know Leon like you do, so I thought I’d ask you.”
I took a huge swig of my drink and finished it. “He was also the first one in the Wilsons’ house too. He probably thinks he’s a big shot.”
“Yeah, I got that feeling from him too,” Joseph said. “Anyway, as I said, I don’t really know him.” Joseph grabbed the bottle and filled my glass again.
“Thanks,” I said.
Joseph also filled his glass and sat back down. “Enough about Leon. I’m concerned about you. You look like hell.”
“I’m really tired. I hardly slept last night, and I worked all day. I just need some sleep.”
“I’ve been thinking—you’ve been through a lot for a kid your age.”
“Yeah, I guess. Along with everyone else living there.”
Joseph leaned back in his seat, took a deep breath, and sipped from his glass. Meanwhile, I poured more of the smoothness down my throat.
“I’m just glad that your mother wasn’t there to see it.”
“So am I.”
Joseph took another swig from his glass. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”
“What’d I say?”
“Something about having a story, and how yours is a bloody one.”
I nodded. “It’s true.” My chin began to quiver. It was as if the Black Hand followed me and waited to strike when I was nearby to show me the darkest side of evil. The lady in the woods wasn’t enough... Evil had to bring Hell to my doorstep. I drank down the rest of the bourbon and set my glass on the table. “I can still see the blood,” I whispered. “When I close my eyes, that’s all I see. I see their crushed skulls and all the blood. I can even smell the burnt hair and flesh.”
Joseph set his drink down, sat down next to me, and gave me a fatherly hug. I felt his strength and security wrapped around me.
“Those memories will fade. Like I said last night, we’ll get through this. And you’re safe here.”
I shook my head, holding back my tears. “Safe? I don’t know that I’ll ever feel safe.”
Joseph pulled away. His eyes were teary. “Listen to me: after all that has happened, there’s no one there who feels safe. That’s why they brought in the deputies. And now you’re living here, ten miles away from all of it. And I promise that life is going to be better from here on. In time, those horrific memories will weaken, and fade away. I promise. And living here, in a new city and a new environment, is exactly what you and your mother need right now. There are a lot of opportunities out there. You could start a business, find another line of work, or even go to college. My family has the money and is willing to support you in whatever you’d like to do.”
“But I work on our family farm.”
“Yes, now you do. But if you’d like to pursue something else, I’m sure your Uncle John would be supportive.”
“Maybe—he always talked about me taking over the farm someday, but maybe he never thought that I’d want to do anything else.”
“And for now—when those memories creep back into your head, do your best to push them aside. That’s why a new focus will be good for you. Leave the bad memories where they belong—in the past.”
“Locked away in a trunk inside my head,” I said softly.
“And throw away the key,” Joseph said steadfastly. “For now, try to look ahead. What that madman did was horrendous, but don’t give him any more than he has already taken. If you relive it every day, he’s not only taken those lives, he’s also taking yours. Just because you’re breathing, does not mean you’re living—not if the fiend has a hold on your mind.”
I nodded, absorbing every powerful word. “No one has ever said any of this to me.”
“You can’t change the past, but you can choose whether you let it destroy you or make you stronger.”
I nodded.He was making a lot of sense.
“If I’m going to be living here, what about the house?”
“Your mom can sell it or rent it out. Let’s see what happens over the next couple of months.”
Feeling a sense of relief, I nodded. “All right. And I’m so glad that Valerie’s living here and working for your parents.”
“Living here? Working for my parents? She is? I thought you just brought her for supper.”
“Nope, she’s your parents’ new house girl,” I replied. “I am sure it was my mother who suggested her for the job.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was,” Joseph said as he leaned back on the sofa, chuckling. Then he picked up his drink and took another sip. “All of you living here is all for the best.”
I nodded. “I’m starting to see it that way.” I mustered up a smile.
There was a knock at the door, and then it swung open. “We can eat,” Dr. O’Hara said from where he was standing in the doorway.
“Do you want a drink, Dad?”
“Sure, I’ll have one.”
Joseph stood up and headed over to the table, poured another drink, and handed it to him.
Feeling drained, I stood up from the sofa. Talking to Joseph seemed to have calmed my shaky nerves. Or maybe it was the soothing, amber liquid that had just befriended me.
Twenty-Six
Shortly before 2:00, we parked our car a little ways down Chapman Road to attend the second service within two days, which bled together into a blur mixed with fear, grief, and shock. We made our way past the Wilsons’ boarded-up house and through the melting snow, heading toward the Morgans’ living quarters. The sun was shining brightly on our faces, which were drenched in sorrow. The sound of a horse’s neigh was heard off in the distance. I glanced up the road and saw an officer, a Gray Rider, not far from my house, sauntering down the hill and over the bridge toward us. Uncle John steadied himself with his cane through the ice and snow as Joseph and my mother walked arm-in-arm beside him. I could tell Uncle John’s arthritis was giving him a lot of pain by the expression on his face. This had been the first time he’d been to Linden in a while. But he felt that he needed to pay his respects to Martha. I kept an eye on him in case he fell as Valerie and I followed closely behind, absent of any conversation. The silence spoke for all of us.
The crowd moved slowly through the back door. I wondered how they would be able to accommodate so many people. Martha was well known in Linden and had customers from at least two counties. We entered through the back door; the kitchen was filled with people. Irvin Packard and his wife nodded, their eyes filled with sadness. The house was noticeably warm, and lacked fresh air.
As the line moved into the parlor, I saw that the far wall was overflowing with flowers that surrounded both sides of the steel gray casket, which was open for public view. After a few minutes, the line to the casket lessened. Out of concern, my eyes were fixed on my mother as she stood in front of us. She wiped her tears and placed her hand on Martha’s.
“I’m going to miss you,” she cried. Joseph placed his arm around her and rubbed her upper arm. “May you rest in peace, my dear friend.” She spoke softly through her tears. She then placed her hands in prayer for a few
moments and turned away from the casket.
After Uncle John gave his condolences to the family, it was our turn. Valerie and I stood there, staring at Martha’s body. The image of her lying on the floor of the Wilsons’ bedroom, bloody and beaten, flashed in my head. My heart began to race. I took a deep breath. I began to feel like I was going to vomit. I took another deep breath.
Valerie turned to me. “She looks better than I expected,” she whispered.
I nodded. “They fixed her up good.”
Martha’s face had been repaired, and she looked as if she was sleeping peacefully. We both said a small prayer and turned away. My mother was hugging Gerry Morgan, who was standing in the front row next to Grandma Harrison. Next to her stood Cliff, Harrison, and his wife.
I approached Gerry, and I saw the pain and anguish in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Gerry put his arms around me and gave me a hug. “Merle told me how you tried to save them,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
“We tried,” I said softly. “We thought we were walking into a fire.” I stopped there, saying no more.
He nodded. “I know, son, I know.”
Then, I walked up to Grandma Harrison. I gave her a long hug. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “We all loved her.”
“We were all blessed to have her,” Grandma cried. “She was a good daughter, and a good mother, and so good to everyone who knew her,” she wept.
I saw Cliff’s red puffy eyes. There were tears running down his cheeks. “Thank you for coming, Fritz.”
“We’re all going to miss your mom. We all loved her,” I said with grief.
Cliff reached out and gave me a hug. “I don’t understand why this happened,” he whispered. “My mom was such a kind woman.”
I nodded. “I know.”
Harrison, with tear-soaked eyes, reached out and shook my hand. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’m sorry about your mother,” I said gently.
“Thank you. Our family appreciates all the support we’ve received.” He gestured to the woman who was standing next to him. “I don’t know if you remember my wife, Claire.”
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