“I could go for that except for one thing,” Schultz said. “The look-alike. Someone went to a lot of trouble to establish an alibi for June in Kansas City at the time of Arlan’s murder. The one who would benefit from that would be June.”
“Unless May did it to cast suspicion on June,” Anita said.
“I have a headache,” PJ said.
“Maybe Fredericka wanted to do away with Arlan so she could inherit the whole business, and set June up to take the blame by giving her an alibi that looks phony,” Dave said.
“You’re saying that June really was in Kansas City and Fredericka or May located a stranger who looks like June so that neighbors would believe she was at home. Then the look-alike was killed to make it look like June was cleaning up, making sure no one could talk. I don’t see how we can rule that out,” PJ said. “I can’t believe there was no trace in K.C. that could prove whether June was there or not.”
“Nothing’s turned up, but I haven’t given up, either. Haven’t given up trying to break Fredericka’s alibi, either. Shit, what a mess,” Anita said. “I hate this family crap.”
“How does the teacher fit in? That’s a finger-and-heart killing,” PJ said.
Dave shuffled some papers. “I got some preliminary stuff from the Florissant police. Loretta Blanchette was a teacher in Cape Girardeau all her working life. After retirement, she moved here to be near a brother who was in a nursing home. The brother died last year, natural causes. None of our suspects has a Cape Girardeau connection. May and June went to private school here in St. Louis, and Fredericka grew up in New Mexico. No links.”
“So the wacko stranger moves back into the suspect arena,” Schultz said. The rest of the group looked glum.
“We’re all tired,” PJ said. “Why don’t we knock off for tonight and see if the Florissant police come up with anything. Maybe we’ll get a break.”
Dave and Anita left immediately, as though they’d been waiting for a chance to get out of a discussion that raised more questions than it answered.
PJ looked at the clock on her desk. Mickey’s white gloves said that it was 12:30 a.m. “Leo, I’m going to hang around for another half hour. I have some research I want to do. I’ll take a cab when I’m done.”
“The hell you will. Check out your chest. Somebody’s already tried to hurt you. I’ll drive you home. Come to think of it, let me check out your chest.”
It felt good to smile. “Thanks. I’ll ride home with you, but I’ll take a rain check on that second offer.”
“Got anything to eat?”
PJ opened a desk drawer. “I’ve got some Little Debbie cakes.”
“You’re kidding. That would be too good to be true.”
She pulled out an unopened box of Zebra Cakes. Schultz snatched the whole thing before she had a chance to offer him an individual package.
“Woman, we are soul mates. See you in half an hour.”
Chapter 28
DEAR DIARY,
These are things that happened to me, cross my heart and hope to die.
It’s my ninth birthday and I should be happy. Instead, I’m in my room crying and I can’t stop. Old Jingles is dead, and I saw it happen.
My sister’s folded-up laundry is in a basket in the hall. She’s supposed to put it away. It’s part of her taking more responsibility and learning how to do things on her own. She’s smart but never finishes anything. She has been to two colleges and dropped out before she got her first set of grades. Our parents are upset about that, and my sister hasn’t found a husband either. She’s twenty years old and Dad says she’s a freeloader. Things have changed a lot in the past year. Some things happened that I don’t know about and now Mom and Dad don’t like my sister very much. One thing I know is that my sister hears people talking to her when there aren’t any people around. There’s been some talk about her moving out because she’s getting really funny. I don’t mean funny ha-ha.
My sister must have done something really bad because she’s supposed to be their darling, their favorite who is always right. But not anymore. Mom had this strange talk with me and asked me about the things my sister did when we were alone. I didn’t think it would do much good, but I answered truthfully. I figured I’d get punished, but she wanted to hear everything. Imagine that!
You know what, I think Mom and Dad are scared of her and they don’t know what to do. They feel guilty about it, though. I’ve been scared all my life, and I’m a little guilty, too. I’m supposed to love my sister.
Mom is going to have a baby soon. She looks like she’s carrying around a watermelon under her clothes. I hope it’s a brother, because I’ve had enough of sisters.
Anyway, the laundry is in a basket and Jingles jumps in and makes a bed. When my sister gets home, she’s really mad about him being on top of her laundry. She hollers and Jingles tries to sneak off to get away from her. Her face gets strange, kind of frozen, not like a person who’s angry but she’s saying angry words. I try to save Jingles, but she pushes me away. The second time she pushes me, I fall down the stairs and end up on the landing. My knee hurts a lot.
Mom and Dad hear the noise and come to see what’s going on. My mother shrieks and Dad says some bad words. Mom tries to get Jingles away, but my sister balls up her fist like she does with me, and punches Mom in the stomach. Dad steps in and slaps my sister in the face, hard. I’ve never seen anything like that before. She comes after him with her hands out like claws. He picks up a vase on a table in the hall and smashes it over her head. She falls down and lies still. Mother is on the floor, holding Jingles, but his legs are every which way. Dad comes over and says he’s got to do it and she says yes. Mom calls to me to close my eyes. I only pretend to. Dad turns Jingles’ head around and he’s quiet.
The silence makes me feel a lot better, even though I know he’s dead.
Dad picks up my sister and carries her to her room. Mom comes down the stairs to check on me. I’m okay; I just have a hurt knee. I’m not okay inside, though.
Dad comes along and carries me down the stairs. He puts me on the couch and Mom gets a pillow and some ice for my knee. I hear Dad on the phone. Mom sits with me and pats my hand. In a little while, our doctor comes to the house. That’s another thing I’ve never seen happen. He goes into my sister’s room and later talks with Dad in the upstairs hall. I can’t hear everything they’re saying, but I heard that the doctor gave my sister a shot. I hate shots. She deserves it. She deserves a million shots.
Dad brings me a bowl of ice cream, chocolate chip, and tells me that he’s sorry about Jingles. I want to tell him that I’m thankful for what he did for Jingles, but I can’t find any words to say it. So I just eat my ice cream. Mom helps me up the stairs and into bed.
When she’s gone, I start crying.
I’ll never, ever forget my ninth birthday.
Chapter 29
WHEN THOMAS GOT OFF the bus, he had a twinge of doubt. He could do his bus route in reverse and be back in his room in forty-five minutes. No one would know he’d left.
Except him. Nope, he was going through with it. If he had to leave the game early to get back before Mom got home, then he’d just make some excuse.
Thomas skirted the parking lot in front of Brookings Hall. It was well lighted and probably patrolled by car or bicycle. It took him quite a bit out of his way, but he managed to enter the Hilltop campus from the south side. He hesitated and ducked into the shadows between Brown and Busch Halls. Near midnight, there was no foot traffic near the buildings. Libraries were closed, and it being Friday night, the dorms were a lot livelier than the academic portions of the campus.
A student strolled by on the walkway, wearing a vest and carrying a radio. It was a member of the Bear Patrol, volunteers who walked the campus to help the university police. Thomas had read about it and hoped he wouldn’t run into any Bears. Or maybe he was hoping he would. The young man stopped and looked in Thomas’s general direction. Thomas was sure his nervous breathing or
the blood roaring in his ears was loud enough to be heard. Just then a rabbit ran across the walk. Satisfied, the student moved on.
It was scary and exhilarating. And he hadn’t even gotten to the game scene yet.
If he was caught, he’d be reported as a suspicious person, and no doubt held for his mom to come pick him up. The thought of that made him flatten himself even more against the cold bricks of the building. There were some bushes as part of the landscaping, but since the branches were bare, they impeded rather than concealed him.
He’d been told that his first challenge was getting into Brookings Hall, and then into the tunnels. Brookings had a gothic look to it. There were four towers that looked like rooks from a chess game, arranged in a square. On the north and south sides of the square were long halls. Stone archways were everywhere. Thomas prowled along the outside of South Brookings, trying any door he came across. On the fourth try, the door opened and he slipped inside. He was in a hallway lined with office doors. A staircase led him to a lower level, but there was nothing remotely resembling a tunnel entrance. He returned to the main floor and tried another staircase. This time, in a dimly lit corner, he found a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only” and tried it. It swung aside easily. It had to be the place, or it would have been locked.
Inside, he put an envelope on the floor with his ten dollars in it. There had been no instructions for paying gronz_eye, but sooner or later, the guy had to leave by this door, and he’d find it.
Ahead of him was a tunnel with pipes running overhead, some a foot in diameter or more. A string of utility lights wrapped in metal cages lit the way, but the light from one bulb didn’t quite reach the next, so that the tunnel appeared to a series of light and dark areas. It was very warm, heat radiating throughout the tunnel from the steam pipes above his head. Beneath his feet was bare concrete, damp in places.
A few steps in, there was a wooden box about the size of a textbook on the floor. Thomas turned it over and over in his hands, unable to open it.
Great. This is going to be embarrassing if I can’t even discover what my quest is.
His fingers finally slid a panel open by accident, and then it was just a matter of time until he found the other sliding panels that opened the box. It was just like the game, only here it was in his hands.
Inside were two sealed envelopes, lettered in gold calligraphy. One of them read Vyzer Lok. So there was one person still to come after him. He removed his envelope and resealed the box.
Excited, he ripped the envelope open. Inside was a cryptic message.
Greetings, Vyzer Lok. Your quest is to find the Four Lost Keys of Durbane and bring them, and yourself, safely back to the entrance. No Vyzer has yet succeeded. The Keys do not want to be found, except for the North Key that may offer help or treachery. Good luck and beware.
Thomas stuffed the letter in his pocket and studied his surroundings. He could barely contain his glee.
One key wanted to be found. That meant it would have to practically fall into his hands.
He looked up, and scoured the pipes and the ceiling of the tunnel with his eyes. Nothing. He wondered about the other gamers who had arrived before him. One of them may have already retrieved the key, and he would have to battle for it with his wits. Or trade for it, if he located something that he didn’t need but another gamer did.
Thomas set off down the tunnel. He was on a quest.
Thirty minutes later, Thomas had gone through several junctions of the tunnel, always choosing the path on the right to avoid getting lost. He wasn’t actually very far from the entrance, because he was taking his time searching for keys.
His haul so far was four coins of limited bargaining value and his prize, a green fake gem the size of a golf ball. He’d also found a mummified mouse, which he’d brought with him in case it had some magic power in the game. He was getting discouraged. Time was ticking away, and soon he’d have to turn back, get off campus, and call a cab with his cellphone.
Then he spotted it, a glint of something gold. Rushing forward, he picked up a key that was partially concealed by a broken piece of concrete. It had to be the North Key, or it wouldn’t have been so easy to see. There was no message with it, so he pocketed the key and moved on. He might not have to leave before the game was over after all.
At the next branch of the tunnel, there was a small door in the side wall that looked like it might lead to a storage room. Thomas fingered the North Key in his pocket.
The North Key may offer help or treachery.
A storage room might contain many items that he could use, including more keys, gems, or even a map. As far as he knew, he was the only gamer in the tunnels who could open that door.
The key fit in the lock. Thomas decided that at this point, with his time running out, he needed help. He’d take his chances on the treachery.
The door opened inward to a black space. The tunnel lights were too far away to light up the interior. Thomas put his hand on the wall inside the door, fumbling for a light switch. He found one, and snapped it on.
The room was small, a damp, musty place with old bookshelves stacked every which way, almost as if they’d been tossed in and forgotten. There were no obvious prizes for him. He’d have to search the room thoroughly, or ignore it as a dead end. He took a few steps inside, and when he did, he felt a rush of air behind him. The hairs rose on the back of his neck, and he had the strong feeling of being watched.
Then the door slammed and a heartbeat later the light went out.
Chapter 30
THERE WAS SOMETHING PJ wanted to pursue but never seemed to find the time for it. She was determined to make some progress now that she’d been left alone in her office.
Call Thomas? She had her hand on the phone, but took it off. He’s probably asleep. Poor kid used up his whole Friday night on a book report.
It was the rumor of the third sister that June mentioned that kept sticking in PJ’s mind. Just because May dismissed it out of hand didn’t mean there was nothing to it. She may have reason to lie.
It was hard to believe anything one sister said about the other. As hard as that was for PJ to imagine, she knew from her work as a psychologist that it wasn’t uncommon. Sisters often saw each other as rivals for their parents’ attention, for the clothes they sometimes were made to share, for the boys in a small pool of eligible dates. Thinking about that brought a smile to her face.
PJ grew up with a sister less than two years older than she was. She and Mandy did everything together, shared lipsticks, squealed over the same rock stars, competed against each other in academics and volleyball, and gave each other surprise birthday parties. Then along came Vince.
Vince Sellerman’s family moved into Newton, Iowa, from Los Angeles. They might as well have landed in a starship for all the attention handsome, worldly Vince got from the local girls. He was seventeen, a year older than Mandy. Both sisters had a crush on him. Who didn’t, in their crowd? He was the most exciting thing that had happened at Newton Senior High School since the Kolson brothers blew up the toilet in the teachers’ restroom. But at fourteen, PJ was too young to even exist as far as Vince was concerned.
Mandy had a date with Vince and she and her friends were swooning with delight. PJ was feeling shut out, probably because she was shut out, told by the giggling girls to go play with the little kids. She started a rumor that Mandy had gone all the way with the football quarterback. In their circle, such things were the province of whispers and shock, something not done by nice girls. The rumor swept through the school and caused terrific hurt when Mandy not only heard it but also learned the source. PJ could still feel the shame that had overwhelmed her when Mandy confronted her. There was no such thing as an anti-rumor that would annihilate the rumor, or a magic undo command. Until Mandy graduated, kids still snickered behind her back.
For having been through it, the sisters were closer than ever.
Vince and Mandy married and had four children. Mandy had latent
Earth Mother qualities, and was a wonderful, warm-hearted mother who managed her rambunctious family with love and a great sense of humor. Mandy confided that after hearing the rumor, Vince was particularly eager to go out with her. Standards in Los Angeles weren’t quite the same as in the heart of the Midwest. Inadvertently, PJ may have been a matchmaker.
The things May and June said about each other had the same vicious elements as PJ’s rumor about going all the way did twenty-five years ago. Juvenile and hurtful. But these sisters were still doing it to each other years after their adolescence, and neither of them seemed to feel any shame about it.
PJ shuddered to think what a trio of such sisters would be like. The duo was bad enough.
The parents were Henry Winter and Virginia Crane, married in 1956. The Crane family was very wealthy, very high society. The Winters weren’t on any social register; they clung to the underside of the middle class like barnacles on a hull. Henry Winter was a hard-working dynamo of a man who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty all the way up to the shoulders to build his manufacturing business. Virginia Crane was raised as a debutante whose idea of hard work was having a French lesson and a tennis lesson on the same day.
In PJ’s opinion, there were two reasons a young woman like Virginia would marry Henry Winter. One was blind love. The other was defiance of her parents. Regardless of the reason, the offspring of the marriage had ended up with a thinly masked dislike and suspicion of each other.
There were records of the births of two daughters, May Flower Winter in 1967 and June Moon Winter in 1975. PJ wondered how June had suffered with a middle name like that. Parents could be so inconsiderate when it came to naming children.
No indication of a third daughter.
Death records revealed that both parents died in a light plane accident in 1997, while on their way to a political fundraising event in Jefferson City.
Time of Death Page 16