by Kathi Daley
We instructed the dogs to stay, got out, and headed to the little store. I loved everything about it. It was quaint, and charming, and made me think of warm summer nights spent telling ghost stories around a campfire. The s’mores display had my mouth watering and the water toys made me yearn for the simple, carefree summers of my childhood.
The clutter of a country theme mixed with mountain accents was not only charming but appeared to be functional as well. The center of the store, closest to the cash register, housed food items including canned and boxed goods, baking supplies, bread, and a variety of candy, chips, and other junk food. There was an area in the back to the right that displayed fishing gear and supplies, camping equipment, flashlights, cookstoves, and pretty much anything a camper or fisherman might want. And all the way to the left, souvenirs, sweatshirts, T-shirts, and other bric-a-brac folks tend to buy while on vacation were neatly arranged.
“Can I help you folks?” asked a short, portly man wearing old-fashioned denim overalls over a red-and-black-flannel shirt.
I approached with a smile. “Hi. My name is Tess.” I nodded to my right. “And this is Tony. We’re looking for someone who has worked here for a long time and might remember a visitor from years back.”
“How long?”
“About thirty years.”
The man tilted his head to one side. “You’ll want to speak to Turk. He’s owned the place for the past fifty years.”
“Do you know where we can find him?”
The man used his thumb to point toward the hallway behind him.
“He’s here?” I clarified.
“In his office. Second door on the right.”
I thanked him, and Tony and I headed to the back of the building. The door to the office was open. A tall man with a thin frame was sitting at a desk growling at a ledger. Whatever he was looking at seemed to be making him more than just a little angry.
“Turk?” I said in a small voice, hoping my inquiry wouldn’t be met with the same growl.
He looked up at me with a frown. His momentary confusion gave way to a softening. “Can I help you?”
I gave him our names, then said, “We wanted to ask you if you remembered this boy.” I handed him the most recent photo we had of Chip.
He took a moment to look and then looked up and stared into my eyes. “You said you were a friend of Greg’s?”
I shook my head. “No, not a friend. But we do have something of his we’d like to return. We have news for him as well. News about his mother. We found some photos and realized he must have spent quite a bit of time here as a child. We hoped someone would remember him and would be able to tell us how we could reach him.”
Turk glanced at Tony with blue eyes faded with age. He slowly looked him up and down, then returned his gaze to me. “Perhaps you should tell me exactly what it is you have for Greg.”
I took a step farther into the office and handed him the Mother’s Day card Bree had received. I explained that, based on the note, Edna’s son didn’t know she had passed. I assured Turk that we only wanted to inform him of his mother’s death and prevent him from making a trip to his special place for nothing.
Turk bowed his head of snowy hair. “I’m sorry to hear about Edna. She was a nice woman. Brought her young’un here every summer until her husband was arrested. Never saw her again after that.”
“So, the photo I showed you must have been taken when Greg was a freshman in high school.”
Turk nodded. “Sounds about right.”
“We know Edna moved to White Eagle after her husband was sent to prison. She lived there until she moved to an assisted-living facility in Kalispell a couple of years ago. She passed away about six months ago. As far as I can tell, the local police never tracked down her next of kin. I don’t suppose you have any idea how we can reach her son?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. It’s been a lot of years.” He looked down at the card he still held. “I have an idea about the special place, though.”
“Really? Where?”
He stood up straight and tall, despite his age. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
Tony and I followed him out of the building toward a groomed path marked with timbers. The trail, damp but not muddy, wound through tall trees and lush undergrowth made up of ferns, moss, vine maples, dogwood, and other shade-loving trees and shrubs. After we’d walked a half mile or so, the trail opened onto a large meadow papered with brightly colored wildflowers. In the center was a large pond that was home to a variety of birds, mainly, at first glance, Canada geese and wild ducks.
“It’s beautiful,” I gasped in pure delight.
“There.” He pointed. To the left of the pond, under a flowering dogwood, was a wooden bench. He left the trail and walked across the rough terrain toward the lovely seating area. When we came to the bench, he pointed to words carved into the seat. To Mama love Greggy
“I helped Greg make this for his mama when he was maybe ten or eleven. They’d come up for the summer, like they always did, but Edna had something heavy on her mind. She never said what was bothering her, but she wasn’t her usual bubbly self. She seemed tired and weak, like she hadn’t been eating and sleeping right.”
“You knew them well?” I asked
He shrugged. “As well as can be. Every summer for quite a few years, Edna and Greg rented a cabin just up the road from my property. Most every day they’d stop at the diner, order a boxed lunch, then come over to this little pond to fish and swim.”
“And Greg’s father?”
He shook his head. “Never met him. Can’t say I’m sorry about that after what happened.”
I could understand that. “Tell me more about the bench.”
He cleared his throat, spat off into the distance, and spoke again. “The summer Greg made this bench, Edna didn’t seem to have the energy to fish and swim. They’d come down to the pond every day, but after a short time she’d say she was tired, and they’d go back to the cabin. I could see Greg was frustrated and considered offering to keep an eye on him so he could stay at the pond while she napped. But Greg was a clever boy and came up with a different solution. He told me he wanted to buy his mama a bench to sit on while he swam and fished. He didn’t have the money for it, but I had scrap wood, so I offered to help him build one.” He put his hand on the back of the bench and gave it a jiggle. “It’s sturdy too. Sure, it’s weathered a bit after thirty-some winters and summers, but she’s still solid as the day we built her.”
I sat down on the bench and ran my hand over the carving. Suddenly, I wanted to cry. “That’s so sweet.” I looked up at him. “It was thoughtful of Greg to want to make a bench for his mother, even if he did have an ulterior motive for doing so, and generous of you to help him.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t mind helping. It did my heart good to see how that boy took care of his mama. I knew Edna’s husband was a truck driver and away from home a lot. It was evident Greg had taken on the responsibility of making sure his mother was well cared for when his dad was away at a very young age. It wasn’t until later that I heard about Edna’s husband killing those girls. As I said, I never met the man, but a sweeter woman and a more adorable child you’d be hard-pressed to find.”
“Did you ever hear Greg or Edna refer to this spot as their special place?” Tony asked.
“Sure. Every time they came out here after that first time. They’d come into the diner almost every day for their boxed lunch. While they waited for it, they’d tell anyone who’d listen that they were going to spend the day in their special place. The two had a real bond. From what they told me, they spent time together hiking and fishing even when they weren’t staying here during the summer months. They loved the outdoors and spending time together.”
“Did either of them ever mention someone named Georgie to you?”
He shook his head. “Not that I recall.”
“The name came up during our search for Greg,” I explained. “It seems he
taught Greg to shoot.”
“Boy never mentioned he liked to shoot back then. At least not to me. Might have come later.”
“I suppose.” I glanced at Tony. “If nothing else, we can show up here at noon on Sunday. If this is the place Chip plans to meet his mother, at least we can explain why she couldn’t be here.”
Tony nodded.
“I’ll keep an eye out for the boy, although I guess he’s not a boy any longer,” he offered. “If you want to leave a number, I can call you if he shows up.” He lowered his head. “It really is a damn shame. Seems like the father didn’t just kill those women. He killed the bond between Greg and Edna as well.”
We headed back down the trail, and Tony and I decided to have a meal at the little diner before we drove back to White Eagle. As it turned out, the End of the Trail Diner was pet friendly, so we ordered some food, then led the dogs to the vacant outdoor patio to eat our meal.
I sat back and looked up at the sky, which had faded from blue to gray. I was sure it would be dark before we made it home, but for now, I enjoyed the last glimpse of daylight. I inhaled deeply, sniffing the smell of woodsmoke from some nearby campfires. The sound of crickets welcoming the evening, combined with the soft breeze that caressed my face, had me feeling liquid and relaxed.
Tony was lost in his own thoughts, sitting silently beside me. I hadn’t had the opportunity to camp much as a child, but tonight, with the wonderful smell of greasy burgers coming from the kitchen and the buzz of insects as they swarmed around the patio lights, I remembered that one perfectly spectacular fishing trip I’d taken with my father.
“Is everything okay?” I asked in a soft voice.
“I guess,” he answered.
“Chip?”
He shook his head. “We’re doing everything we can. I hope we find him, but if we don’t, I’ll know we tried.” Tony laced the fingers of his left hand with my right.
“Being here, with the smell of campfires and the sound of crickets, I’m reminded of the fishing trip I took with my father. I remember we stopped at a place much like this on our way up to the lake where we stayed that week. Everything was just the same, right down to the creaky screen door, the sound of insects being fried by the porch light, and the smell of greasy burgers and home-sliced fries.”
Tony squeezed my hand. “Isn’t that a happy memory?”
I leaned my head on Tony’s shoulder. “My memories of that week are happy. It’s just that I’m finding it hard to reconcile the memory of a man who was so much fun with someone who was capable of faking his death and leaving his family to fend for themselves while he started another life.”
Tony turned and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I know.” I felt tears pushing against the back of my eyes. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“We can stop looking,” Tony said.
“No. I need to know.” I sat up and turned so I could look at Tony. “It’s just that being here, in this moment, and realizing Mike has a lot more happy memories of Dad than I do, makes me wonder how he’s going to take it if he ever finds out what we know.”
Tony didn’t say anything. He squeezed my hand one more time, then let it go when the creaky screen door announced the waitress, bringing the greasy burgers and fries we’d been waiting for.
Chapter 14
Thursday, May 10
Mike had done some research and found birth records for both Edna and Chester Townsend in Cottonwood Falls, Kansas. Edna’s brother, as it turned out, had left Cottonwood Falls after graduating high school. He’d drifted from place to place, working as a laborer. He’d never married or had children, and according to the folks Mike spoke to, he died young. Mike poked around a bit more, but it seemed no one knew what had happened to Edna after she married the stringent man who, it was rumored, bore the sign of the devil.
We’d been looking for Chip for a week but all we really had was the bench he’d made for his mother. I hoped we were correct, and the bench was the place he’d referred to in his letter; otherwise, I had no idea how we’d find Chip to inform him of his mother’s passing. It occurred to me to try to track down the rest of the teens in the photo with Chip, and I’d worked on that the previous day. I’d spoken to Sue Wade, Mike to Rupert Hanson. Four of the others had long since moved on from White Eagle, which left only Tippy Tipton. He worked at the bowling alley and said he’d known Chip in high school but hadn’t seen or heard from him since he’d left town a quarter century before.
It really did seem as if Chip Townsend had disappeared.
With Mother’s Day only a few days away, the volume of mail had increased to the point where today was a two-mailbag day, and the coming ones would probably be the same. As I did every time I had a double bagger, I started my route in the middle, doing the north half of town in the morning and the south after lunch.
“Morning,” I greeted Aunt Ruthie when I entered the diner with the day’s mail. “Is Mom around?”
“She called Wanda to come in to cover for her. She’s taking the day off.”
I frowned. “Day off? Is she sick?”
Ruthie grinned a little knowing half smile that immediately informed me something was up. “No. She’s not sick.”
“Then why did she take the day off?” I asked, as a lead ball settled into the pit of my stomach.
“She has a gentleman friend visiting. She decided she wanted to have extra time to spend with him because he’s in town so rarely.”
My hand flew to my throat. “Romero? Is Romero here?”
Ruthie nodded with a little wink. “Seems he had some business in the area.”
I wanted to panic but didn’t, which, as it turned out, was a good thing. I needed time to think before I said anything to Aunt Ruthie— or anyone, for that matter—and she was already looking at me oddly.
She patted my arm. “Tess honey, I know it must be odd for you to have your mother dating someone, but your father’s been gone a lot of years, and a woman has needs.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to think about my mother’s needs.
“Will she be in tomorrow?” I asked.
“I suspect she will.” Ruthie put an arm around me. “I believe Mr. Montenegro is just in town for the day.”
I placed a hand on my pale cheek. A day was enough if a man had homicide on his mind.
“I guess I might not have handled that the way I should,” Aunt Ruthie said. “I can see I upset you, and that wasn’t my intention. Would you like to talk about it?”
“No.” I set the mail I’d brought in on the counter. “I’m fine, and I have a route to do. I’d best get to it.” I turned and walked to the door with Tilly on my heels. Once I made it safely down the street, I pulled out my cell and called Tony. “Romero Montenegro is in town.”
Tony didn’t answer right away.
“What are we going to do?” I demanded. “He’s with my mother at this very moment.”
“Take a deep breath,” Tony advised. “Romero being in town when we don’t know whether he’s guilty of killing his fiancée is unexpected and not ideal, but even if he was guilty, that doesn’t mean your mother is in any danger.”
“How can you say that?” I screeched in a voice so high, I didn’t recognize it as my own.
“If he killed his fiancée—and I’m not saying he did—there must have been extenuating circumstances. It’s not like he’s left a trail of bodies in his wake over the past seven years. I doubt he’s come all the way from Italy to do harm to a woman with whom he’s only been engaged in a casual relationship.”
I took a deep breath, as Tony suggested. “You may have a point. It doesn’t make sense that he’d hurt my mother. He barely knows her. Still, I don’t like this one bit. We have to do something.”
“When can you take a lunch break?” Tony asked.
I glanced at my watch. “I usually take it in about two hours, but I can really take it whenever I like.”
�
��Two hours is good. Meet me at the little park in the center of town then. I’ll call my friend with the connections to see if I can hurry him up a bit, given the situation. And I’ll check out a few other things that have occurred to me.”
I had no idea how I was going to go about my route when my mother might literally be sleeping with a killer, but Tony had a point about Romero not having motive or intent where my mother was concerned. “Okay. Two hours. Don’t be late.”
I hung up and put my phone in my pocket. Then I bent over and buried my face in Tilly’s neck. I tried to get my imagination under control, but all I could see when I closed my eyes was Romero’s long, lean fingers wrapped around my mother’s neck. I took my phone back out and called my mother. She didn’t pick up her home phone, so I tried her cell.
“Tess. Is everything okay?” Mom asked.
“I’m fine but worried. Aunt Ruthie told me you didn’t go into work today.” I decided not to tell her that she’d let it slip she was with Romero. I wondered if she’d lie.
“No need to worry. I’m fine. Remember my friend from Italy?”
“Romero?”
“Yes, Romero. He’s in the States on business. I wanted to spend some time with him, so I asked Wanda to cover for me.”
“I called your house, but there was no answer.”
“That’s because I’m not at home. Romero and I are in Kalispell.”
“Are you sure you should have just leave town with a man you barely know?”
Mom chuckled. “Romero is in town for the day, so we decided to go out for lunch and a drive.”
“Lunch and a drive?”
“We’re going to have lunch at that café I like so much, then maybe take a drive around the lake. It’s such a beautiful day, it’d be a shame to waste it.”
A drive around the lake sounded safe enough. I forced the panic from my voice. “That sounds fun. Will you be at work tomorrow?”
“I plan to be. Romero has business in Spokane tomorrow, so he’ll be leaving early in the morning. The only reason I took today off was because we had such a short time to visit.”