Murder In the Past Tense (A Giorgio Salvatori Mystery Book 2)

by Lynn Bohart

  She took a deep breath, sucked up a sob and thought for a moment. Then she nodded.

  “Yes. I told the police that I heard a car around midnight. We lived on a dead end street, so cars didn’t come up there very often. You didn’t come onto our street unless you were coming to see someone. I thought that maybe it was Lisa coming back from the prom. I was on the sofa and glanced out the window and saw a big, dark car, but then it was gone…and, well…when Lisa didn’t come into the house, I heard a dog barking, but then I passed out again. But the police didn’t believe me. One of them even asked if I was just dreaming.”

  “Nothing else?” Giorgio asked. “Anything out of the ordinary? Something that didn’t seem monumental, but made you pause?”

  “No,” she said, tearing up again.

  “What happened when you woke up the next day?” Swan asked. “What did you do?”

  She glanced over at him, as if he’d asked a question no one had ever asked before.

  “I…uh, woke up on the couch,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Let’s see. It was late – already ten o’clock, I think. I thought Lisa was still asleep, and so I decided to surprise her with breakfast. I made as much noise as I could, hoping to wake her up,” she said, smiling briefly at the memory. And then the smile faded. “But she didn’t get up. So I went out into the backyard to get the paper.” She turned to Giorgio. “Our paperboy, Billy, always rode down the alley and threw the papers into the backyards because all the backyards had fences. He said it was safer.”

  “Why is that important?” Giorgio asked, watching her closely.

  “Because our back gate was open.” Her expression changed to a look of mild surprise. “We’d actually had a dog up until a few months before, and so we’d trained ourselves to always latch the gate so the dog wouldn’t go after Billy. But the gate was open that morning.”

  “And no one ever asked you about that?” Swan asked.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Once they knew I’d been drinking, they only asked me about Lisa, her friends, her habits – things like that. No one seemed to care what I might have seen or heard.”

  “When Lisa was going to be out late like that,” Swan continued, “would she have come into the house from the backyard?”

  “Yeah,” she replied. “She knew I often fell asleep in the front room, so she would come in through the back door so she wouldn’t wake me.”

  Bells were going off in Giorgio’s head. It appeared the girl might have made it home that night, but just not into the house. If she had, that might corroborate the boyfriend’s story that he had dropped her off.

  “Did you notice anything else about the backyard that might be helpful?” Giorgio asked, keeping his fingers crossed.

  She dropped her chin and seemed to sink into herself as she thought. But then, she relaxed.

  “No,” she said. “Nothing.”

  “All right. Thank you, Mrs. Farmer,” Giorgio said. He stood up and pulled out his card and handed it to her. “Please call me if you think of anything else.”

  She took the card and looked up at him gratefully. “Thank you for finding my little girl,” she said with such a plaintive look that Giorgio felt his heart melt. “At least now, she can be buried properly.”

  Giorgio nodded. “I’ll let you know when we can release her remains. We’re just tying up loose ends.”

  He reached out a hand for the necklace, which she still held in her lap. She glanced up at him without relinquishing the jewelry.

  “Detective, you haven’t told me how she died.”

  He retracted his hand. “We don’t know for sure yet. She may have fallen into the well…but it appears that she was hit on the head with something.”

  She nodded and reluctantly handed the envelope back. “I understand.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll see that you get it back when we’re finished.”

  They moved towards the door, when Giorgio stopped and turned.

  “By the way, is there any chance you might still have something that would have your daughter’s DNA on it? Something personal like a hair brush?”

  She had risen from her chair and stood hunched over, grasping the oxygen tank by her side.

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she said, turning. She shuffled to an old desk in the corner, opened a drawer and removed something.

  “The night before Lisa disappeared,” she said, coming back. “She’d been watching TV in the living room sucking on a lollipop.” She held a white cloth in her hand. “I found the sucker the next night. It was stuck to the table next to the chair she always sat in.” She glanced over to the window as if she were still in her old home. “I just stared at that lollipop for what seemed like hours, crying. Because I could see her, you know? Sitting in that chair, her knees pulled up to her chest, sucking on that stupid sucker. And I couldn’t throw it away. I just couldn’t.” She turned back to Giorgio and held out her hand.

  In it was a small white handkerchief. Inside the handkerchief was a cracked red sucker that had partially disintegrated, the sugar congealed into small globs around the edges. Giorgio reached for the handkerchief, but she didn’t let go.

  “Every time I’ve looked at that piece of candy over the last forty-some years, I’ve been able to picture her that night. Happy. Contented. Her whole life in front of her. And now you’re going to take it away from me,” she said in a wispy voice. “I’ll never get it back.”

  Her anguish made his chest swell. He quickly coughed and said, “I promise…that I’ll get the necklace and whatever else I can back to you. And I’m going to try and find out what really happened to your daughter.”

  She looked up at him with a question in her eyes. “Do you have children, Detective?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Two,” he said.

  She stared at him for a long moment, as if to cement the promise he’d just made into his soul. Then she nodded and let go of the handkerchief.

  “I believe you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was too late that afternoon to make an appointment with Ron Martinelli, so they called it a day and Giorgio headed home for the aforementioned fried chicken dinner with Rocky. After dinner, the brothers volunteered to take the kids shopping for a Christmas tree, so they all piled into the Salvatori Suburban and headed downtown.

  They found a crowded tree lot run by the Boy Scouts in the parking lot of the community pool on Sierra Madre Boulevard. Stands of Noble Fir, Scotch Pine and Blue Spruce trees were laid out in rows, highlighted by strings of colored Christmas lights.

  There were dozens of people browsing, and the kids scrambled out of the car as soon as Giorgio killed the engine.

  “Hey!” he called after them. “Take Grosvenor with you.”

  Tony raced back to the car, opened the door and grabbed the dog’s leash. A moment later, they had disappeared into the forest of trees, while Giorgio and Rocky sauntered behind.

  “So what are you looking for?” Rocky asked as they approached the first line of trees.

  “Tony wants a big tree,” Giorgio replied, heading straight for the stand that sold hot apple cider and hot chocolate.

  “A big tree?” Rocky chuckled. “Remember that year dad talked us into going out to that tree farm in upstate New York?”

  Giorgio laughed. “Yeah, he found the biggest tree there and convinced mom that it would fit into our living room.”

  “God, I was only eight or something,” Rocky said, following Giorgio to the refreshment stand. “I just remember that monstrosity of a tree looming over me in the dark. I couldn’t even see the top of it. And mom kept saying, ‘Robert, it’s not going to fit. I’m telling you, it’s not going to fit.’”

  He imitated his mother’s high-pitched voice, which got Giorgio laughing.

  “It took him forty minutes just to cut the damn thing down,” Giorgio said, chuckling.

  “Right,” Rocky cut in with a snort. “And then, of course, it didn’t even fit onto
the top of the car.”

  The brothers shared a moment of laughter as Giorgio ordered two hot chocolates. An attractive woman in her thirties walked past them, holding the hand of a little girl. She turned an appreciative eye towards Rocky as she passed.

  “Poor dad,” Giorgio murmured, paying for the drinks. “He had to cut off so much of that tree, that in the end it was just this fat bunch of pine needles in the corner of the living room, and mom…”

  “Dad!” Tony called out in alarm, running up with his sister right behind. “Grosvenor tried to bite someone!”

  Tony was having trouble catching his breath. Marie stopped behind him with her arms folded across her chest and tears in her eyes.

  “There was this man,” Tony rattled on.

  Giorgio squatted down. “Slow down, Buddy. Tell me what happened,” he said, glancing at the dog.

  Grosvenor was panting, even though the night air was cold.

  “A man started talking to us about the Christmas trees,” Tony said breathlessly. “Then he squatted down, like you are now, and told Marie how pretty she was.”

  Giorgio looked over at Marie, who dropped her chin.

  “Then what?” Giorgio said, his voice taking on a hard edge.

  Tony glanced at his sister.

  “He reached out and touched my chest,” she said with a whine.

  “He said, ‘look at that, you’ll be a woman soon,” Tony reported. “And that’s when Grosvenor lunged at him! He almost took the guy’s hand off.”

  Giorgio immediately stood up and looked around, his adrenalin pumping.

  “What’d this guy look like?”

  “He was wearing a dark stocking cap,” Tony said. “And had really dark eyes.”

  “Rocky,” Giorgio snapped. “You take Tony. I’ll take Marie.”

  His brother didn’t need any additional instruction. Rocky grabbed the boy’s hand, while Giorgio took Marie’s. They tossed their hot chocolates into a nearby trash can and split up.

  “Marie, tell me if you see him,” Giorgio said.

  They wove in and out of the tree lines, searching for the man in the stocking cap. They even searched the area in back, where the owner’s RV was parked, but saw no one in a stocking cap.

  Giorgio reported the incident to the two men who worked there. As he and Marie were returning to the refreshment stand, Giorgio noticed the tail lights of a car peeling out of the far end of the parking lot. He watched it disappear up the street, unable to see the license plate. But the car had a boxy shape and a spare tire attached to the rear. Maybe a jeep, Giorgio thought.

  “Did you find him?” Rocky said, appearing to Giorgio’s left.

  “No,” Giorgio said.

  “Think we ought to report it?” Rocky asked quietly.

  Giorgio looked down at the kids, who both had worried expressions. Marie was squeezing his hand so hard, it hurt.

  “I think we’ll call it a night,” he said. “I’ll file a report in the morning.” He leaned down. “We’ll get the tree this weekend, okay? Then mom can come, too.”

  Neither child objected. They seemed content to just go home.

  On the way home, Giorgio praised the kids, telling them they had done exactly what they should have. Once they were inside the house, Tony and Marie went immediately to their bedrooms, while Giorgio reported the incident to Angie. She paused momentarily, tears appearing in the corner of her eyes.

  “We’ll talk later,” she said. She ran upstairs to be with Marie.

  “Hey,” Rocky said, catching Giorgio’s attention. “She’ll be okay.” He placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Marie is tough. And kudos to Grosvenor…again. That dog is proving to be the family hero.”

  Rocky was referring to a couple of instances in the Olsen case when Grosvenor had come to the rescue.

  “Yeah,” Giorgio said absentmindedly.

  “Listen, I’m going to go,” Rocky said. “Call me if you need me.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Giorgio said, bringing his attention back to his brother. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Giorgio closed the big front door after his brother had left, his thoughts focused on one thing – the man in the stocking cap and how he would prevent it from ever happening again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Giorgio woke with a jolt early the next morning. It was only 4:00 a.m., and he’d been ensnarled in a complicated dream in which a man in a stocking cap chased three young women down a long, winding road. Giorgio ran with the girls, until a tree branch slapped him across the face, making him flinch. His hand reached for his cheek, and then he tripped and fell, jolting him awake.

  He lay in bed, his heart racing, the lingering sting of the tree branch on his right cheek. His fingers sought it out, but there was no welt, just the rough stubble of beard he’d have to shave in the morning.

  He turned towards Angie. She lay with her back to him, sound asleep.

  Now wide awake, he pulled back the covers and swung his legs out of bed. Grosvenor was comfortably curled up in a dog bed by the wall. He raised his head when Giorgio’s feet touched the floor.

  “C’mon, Boy,” Giorgio whispered. “Let’s go get a snack.”

  Giorgio slipped his feet into some moccasins and shuffled past the window. He glanced down into the yard. The light above the garage illuminated the driveway and part of the side yard, but all was quiet. Remnants of the dream had him searching for the girls, but of course, there was no one there.

  And yet…he felt something had awakened him – something other than a bad dream.

  He headed into the hallway with the dog at his heels.

  They quietly descended the staircase and skirted the foot of the stairs. Prince Albert, the suit of armor he’d liberated from the local theater, stood against the wall, guarding the second floor. Giorgio patted the prince on his metal head and turned for the kitchen, when he stopped. He opened the drawer in the hall table and found the strange coin that had blown in the door the night the door had blown open. He went to the kitchen, clutching it in his fist.

  He flipped on the light, squinting at the brightness.

  He glanced around at the white tiled counters, black and white checkered floor and chrome appliances, thinking that standing here felt like having Angie’s arms wrapped around him. Their kitchen was filled with memories of family dinners, family arguments, family games, and lots of laughter. It felt good, and the fog of the dream began to lift.

  He dropped the coin on the red Formica table and went to the refrigerator to grab a package of roast turkey. He found a box of crackers in the cupboard, and a moment later, there were four meat and cracker sandwiches sitting on the counter.

  Giorgio was about to pop one into his mouth when he glanced down at Grosvenor. The dog’s soulful eyes pleaded with him, as a glob of drool slipped out the side of his long snout.

  Giorgio laughed. “Okay, I did say let’s go get a snack,” he said.

  He bent over and gave one of the cracker sandwiches to the dog. With one chomp, Grosvenor promptly swallowed it whole.

  “Damn!” Giorgio said. “Did you even taste that?”

  Giorgio straightened up and was about to take a bite of his own, when he happened to glance through the kitchen window above the sink.

  His hand froze halfway to his mouth.

  The kitchen window looked across the street to his neighbor’s driveway. Standing under a tree, near the curb, was Christian Maynard, dressed as he always was, in dark knickers and long stockings, a white shirt and suspenders. It was the same attire he was wearing when he’d hung himself at the monastery several decades before.

  The first time Giorgio had seen the boy, his image had appeared at the head of the stairs at the monastery. The image had disappeared so quickly, Giorgio thought it was his imagination. But after several more sightings, he had finally been forced to accept that not only was he seeing the ghost of this young boy, but the boy was trying to help him.

  Once he’d come to terms
with the apparition, he’d also tried to assist the boy. When he and Rocky had found the secret room in the bell tower, complete with shackles and an old mattress, the discovery confirmed rumors of abuse by the priests when that half of the building was a boys’ school. It was enough to make Giorgio approach the new Bishop and suggest that the tower be torn down. Giorgio had assumed that as a result, Christian’s spirit would go wherever dead people are supposed to go.

  But here he was again.

  Giorgio moved over to the sink, his heart racing. He stared at the boy’s unearthly image as it hovered a few inches above the curb. The boy didn’t move, watching Giorgio, as he always did.

  “What are you doing up?”

  Giorgio spun around and dropped the crackers and turkey onto the floor. Grosvenor lunged quickly to gobble them up, as Angie moved from the doorway into the kitchen. The drape of her sleeve whirled past the coin and swept it off the table onto the kitchen floor with a ping.

  “What was that?” she said, leaning over to pick it up. “It looks like a souvenir of some kind.”

  Giorgio just stood there. He had no idea what to say. Clearly, Angie hadn’t seen the boy’s apparition. But now he might have to explain the coin.

  “Um…” he stuttered. “I…um…”

  Angie looked over at him, her brown eyes furrowed. She handed the little piece of metal over to him. “Is this something the kids picked up?”

  She pulled her robe tighter around her slender waist and turned to the refrigerator. Giorgio stood there mute, staring at the coin in his hand.

  As Angie grabbed a carton of milk and went to the cupboard for a mug, he mumbled, “No, I uh, found it on the lawn today. I just had it in my pocket.”

  He felt his nose growing at the lie, but what else could he say?

  She turned while she poured herself a half cup of milk.

  “You mean you had it in the pocket of your pajamas?” she said, nodding to his pants legs.

  She put the cup of milk into the microwave and turned it on. He glanced down at his pajama bottoms. His pajamas didn’t have pockets.

  “No. My jacket. I just grabbed it on my way downstairs and laid it on the table,” he said dumbly.