by Rosa Sophia
“Thank you,” he said, when he was finally able to choke out words again. “I’ll tell you the rest, but I don’t think I’ll live much longer.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” This was only the second time he had mentioned it, but it was scaring Kat.
“When I got out of prison, I passed through the area one day. God, I wish I’d never driven past that house. I saw Julie out getting the mail. She looked so much older, but she was still so beautiful. I asked her how John and David were. She just blurted out that John was dead and she told me never to come back, no matter what.
“I knew something unnatural had happened to John. I didn’t know how or why. I didn’t know anything about the murder. I wouldn’t have done anything. I wouldn’t have gone to anyone. But Phillip got a hold of my number here, called me and said that if I left town and if I got any bold ideas about what had happened to John, he would, well…he said he would send someone after me. To kill me.”
“Pack your bags,” Kat said, standing. “You’re coming to my house. And on the way, I want you to tell me about Julie.”
He nodded, and a look passed over his face that might’ve been relief. “I’ll tell you everything, Katherine. I’ll tell you about how I ended up in Pennsylvania too.”
Chapter 6
January Twenty-Fifth, 1959
Jonathan Stark arrived in Tinicum in April of 1955. It was a particularly cool and rainy month, filled with storms. For a while, it seemed like summer would never come. But mostly, Jonathan felt like this chilly state would never be warm because he was so used to a warmer climate all year round. He came from down south and was used to farming. He had been raised on an onion farm, but he’d also taken care of the family’s cows.
The more he grew up, the more Jonathan’s own parents became akin to children. As they grew older, he was forced to care for them. His beautiful wife was jealous when he had to spend most of his time at the family farmhouse, making dinner for his mother and father, fixing things around the house and catering to their every whim. They were both dying. It was only a matter of time. Jonathan fought with himself night and day. Part of him wanted them gone so he could go on with his life, but it was always a constant argument in his mind as the side of him that possessed the highest number of morals battled for control over a tattered psyche.
His marriage quickly fell apart and it was all he could do to keep from blaming it on his parents. His mother was a frail woman and she wasn’t all that old, either. Cancer had taken its toll on her body and her refusal to take medicine because of her religious beliefs interfered with any possible recovery.
The Stark family had always eaten red meat, almost every day. Later in life, Jonathan wondered if it had contributed to his parents’ deaths. His father had perished from lung cancer, having become so addicted to cigarettes that he was smoking four packs a day. The habit was quite expensive and it angered Jonathan, especially since the farm was repossessed shortly after his mother had passed on. If his father hadn’t smoked, would they have had enough money to save the farm?
As a young man, Jonathan had sworn he would never indulge in any intoxicating substance. That changed when he got older, and alcohol became his crutch.
When his wife walked out on him with their son, Jonathan decided he’d had enough. He looked at a map, picked a destination without much thought, and left home. Pretty soon, he was in Tinicum, Pennsylvania, and he wasn’t all that sure how he’d gotten there. He would later wish he’d picked somewhere else.
Jonathan took a room at a motel in town, then found himself at Waring’s General store one sunny morning. He asked the owner if he knew of anyone who needed a farmhand, as it was the only area of expertise he possessed. He figured he could get a temporary job on a farm, and decide what to do from there.
The owner of the store wrote something down and handed him a piece of paper. On the paper, it said Phillip Maslin and below that was a phone number. The storeowner told Jonathan that Phillip was a good man, a good friend, and that if anyone would hire him on faith alone, it would be him.
One day, Jonathan would wish he had never set foot on the Maslin property.
He would especially wish he had never met Julie Maslin.
***
It was Jonathan’s first day on the job. He figured he had it pretty good. He didn’t have many possessions, so living in the little shed by the barn suited him just fine. Mr. Maslin had seemed rather uneasy about hiring him, and it had taken a lot of persistence, but here he was.
He was wearing a pair of knee-high boots, and was nearly ankle deep in cow manure. After feeding the cows, he went into the main room of the barn and stood beneath the hayloft. He removed his putrescent-smelling boots and took them out in the sun to set a while. The muck would dry eventually, not that it mattered.
That was when he met Julie. Sure, he had been introduced earlier, but he hadn’t actually spoken with her yet. When she said his name, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Being alone in a field always did that to him. It made him so he didn’t expect another person’s presence until they were right there, tapping on his shoulder. When he saw her face, he realized she was quite taken aback by his reaction.
Back in the fifties, Jonathan was a good-looking young man of twenty-five, with a full head of black hair and hazel eyes his ex-wife claimed she’d gotten lost in. Apparently, she’d found her way out.
He was muscular from all the work he did, and although he had smelled of cow manure, it hadn’t deterred Julie from coming out to talk to him.
“Hi,” she said. He nodded to her in greeting. There was a long, awkward pause. Then she spoke again. “Tell me about where you came from.”
“Don’t you get out much?” he inquired. She laughed and shook her head. Her eyes seemed to glitter when she was happy, but that spark would soon disappear, for it seemed something about her was always sad. She was beautiful, though, and Jonathan could barely keep his eyes off her.
“Tennessee,” he said.
“Well, you’ve got that lovely southern drawl,” Julie said, trying her best and managing a rather nice imitation of a southerner.
“Indeed, I do, Mrs. Maslin.” She looked a little disappointed all of a sudden. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Oh, no, but I’d rather you call me Julie. Jonathan.”
“That’s too long a name for me.” He shook his head. “My mother always called me Jonny. Why don’t you call me that?”
“Sure!” She turned and started back toward the house. She looked gorgeous, even in that old dress of hers. Looking over her shoulder, she called back to him. “Supper’s almost ready, Jonny.”
“Let me know when it’s on the table,” he replied.
“Certainly.”
That was another perk of working for the Maslins—free food.
***
It became a habit of Julie’s to come outside and talk with Jonny when he was just returning from taking care of the animals. They talked about anything they could think of, and they became friends very quickly. Jonny liked to think that it was meant to be, because he’d been feeling so lonely with no one to talk to on the farm. Julie’s beauty was enticing him and so was her intelligence. He knew he had to stay away from her, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.
There was something frightening about how submissive Julie was. When she was happy, her smiles would always disappear quickly, as though even her expressions were running in fear.
One day, Julie came to the dinner table with a black eye. Jonny surmised that if he got any closer to her, he would receive a sound beating from Julie’s husband, and would have to find a nice cardboard box to sleep in. People were scared of Phillip’s often-aggressive demeanor, but the neighbors said he was a caring man. It didn’t make sense, and Jonny was suspicious of it.
That evening, Jonny went out to the pasture behind the barn and took a seat on the fence. He claimed he had things to do out here, but what he was really doing was waiting for Julie. From here, no on
e would see him, with all the trees that surrounded the barn on both sides. You could just barely see the pasture itself from the living room window. Julie showed up, as Jonathan had expected. She came over to him and leaned against the fence, silent. Jonny didn’t hesitate in his questioning.
“Phillip did that, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did. He’s done it before. It’s nothing.”
“You don’t deserve that, Julie.” He slipped off the fence and put his arm around her. She shied away.
“I do deserve it.” Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. She was thirty-two, and she was already starting to look older. There were little lines around her eyes and her forehead was creased with worry. Jonathan hadn’t even been there for a year and he was already growing too close to her, despite his own inner protestations.
Never mess with a man’s wife, he told himself. Unfortunately, he was almost certain he was about to break his own rule. He pulled her close, then leaned down and kissed her. He wanted to show her what it was like to be with a man who was gentle. Someone who wouldn’t hurt her. She kissed him back, which he knew—right then and there—would condemn him for all time.
In that moment, he was stuck. He would never be able to forget her, and she would never be able to put him out of her mind. They both left the kiss with a horrible yet beautiful knowledge. They would never be able to stop their developing love.
***
Jonathan tossed and turned in his bed. He could hear the fire crackling in the tiny wood stove of his shack. It was mid-winter and the walls were thin.
Timothy Nyce was dead and so was Peter Black. Allan and Simon Collins had recently disappeared. Jonny knew about Earl Woodworth vanishing, but he had already decided the man had faked his own death to escape his nagging wife. The woman was an absolute nuisance.
When he heard footsteps in the snow, Jonny shot up from his covers with terror in his mind, for he had been thinking of murder. The steps drew closer and closer until—
Someone knocked on the door of his shed. He took in a deep breath and gulped.
“W-who is it?”
When Julie said, “It’s me,” he put a hand to his bare chest in relief. Without the covers, he was getting cold, but he stood up and opened the little door.
Julie pushed through wearing a heavy coat, a scarf, and worn boots. The wind whistled behind her until she closed the door.
“Are you all right?” Jonathan was wearing a pair of long johns and suddenly, he felt naked in the presence of a lady. He made his way back to his bed and pulled the covers up to his waist, despite the fact this might be even worse. He wasn’t sure of how high or low either display of indecency was on the scale of etiquette. “I’m sorry about that,” he said sincerely.
“It’s all right, it doesn’t matter.” Julie pulled open her coat. She was wearing a nightgown beneath it. She brushed the snow off her head and knelt by the wood stove, trying her best to relax. She appeared quite flustered.
“Would you, uh—would you care to tell me what you’re doing out here in the middle of the night?” Jonathan hazarded. She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.
“I came to see you, Jonny. Do I need a reason?”
“I guess not. But you look a little upset.”
Julie stood, then sat on the edge of the bed. “I am,” she admitted. “I have a bad feeling.”
“About what?” Jonny discarded his covers and moved closer to her. He kissed her neck. She flinched. “What’s wrong?” It was a strange habit of Jonny’s that whenever he got upset, he would sound even more southern. Now was one of those times.
“The last—the last beating,” Julie muttered.
“What? You mean what Phillip did to you?”
“Yes. It was because of you.”
Jonny felt lightheaded. He leaned his forehead on Julie’s shoulder, squeezed his eyes shut, made a sort of worried noise, and then leaned back against the wall of the shed.
“He knows about us?” His voice was almost a croak.
“Yes.” Julie affirmed the worst assumption he had ever made.
Never mess with a man’s wife, Jonathan thought. And here I’ve gone and done it.
He thought for sure he would be fired. Phillip would probably scream at him until his throat hurt—the reaction he was most known for—then he would fire him and send him off without his last payment. Jonathan’s next big concern would be where he would sleep after he lost his shed, luxurious as it was.
“What’s he going to do?” Jonny already knew the answer to this, but he asked the question anyway.
“I don’t know.”
“I guess he’ll fire me. You can come with me, Julie. I won’t be able to bear the thought of him beating you, all because of me.” Jonathan put his arms around her when she began to cry. “If you come with me, you’ll be happy, Julie. We can get married and live together, far from here. How does that sound?” She didn’t reply, she just kept sobbing. Jonny took her in his arms and kissed the tears that fell from her eyes.
She was the most beautiful woman in the world.
The shed was chilly and there were cracks in the old walls. Silence overtook the small space. All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire as Julie and Jonathan curled up together on the small bed in the corner.
He held her close and kissed her as he thought of their future life together. They would take the two boys, John and David, then go to New York City. Jonathan was tired of the farming life anyway. Cow manure was starting to make him sick, and he had already hated onions by the time he’d left his parents’ farm.
He was just about to tell Julie his marvelous ideas when she quickly kissed him on the lips and headed for the door. She pulled on her coat, scarf, and boots.
“I have to get back to the house before Phillip notices I’m gone,” she explained. She smiled fetchingly at Jonathan, but she didn’t fool him. He could see the fear and regret behind her eyes, an emotion so strong it was almost fatal. He wanted to ask her what it was that she wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t get a chance to speak. “Get out of here, Jonny,” she advised him. “Get as far away as you can and never come back.” She fought back tears. “You’re not safe. Always remember that I love you, Jonny.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already out the door. He didn’t take her warning seriously. But he should have.
***
It was January twenty-fifth, 1959. Jonathan Stark opened his eyes on a freezing morning. His first view of the day was not a pleasant one.
“Get up. Stark, is it?” There was a pudgy-faced man with rosy cheeks standing over him, his fat head punctuated by a brown hat on his cropped hair. He was wearing a long brown coat, a scarf, and gloves. When he flashed a shiny badge, Jonathan was puzzled.
“W-what?”
“I said, get up! Now!” the man barked. Jonny sat up. “I’m Detective Jack Avery of the FBI. We’re here to investigate several murders.”
“What?”
“Didn’t I tell you to get up?”
Jonny got up. He went through the motions of putting on his clothes with extreme difficulty due to his rude awakening and the fact that he was being watched. Then he followed Detective Avery out of the shed and into the stinging cold of the winter morning.
“What’s going on?” he asked blearily as he buttoned his coat.
“We have reason to believe that you killed five residents of Tinicum Township.” He looked at a small notebook he’d tugged out of his coat pocket. “Timothy Nyce, Simon Collins, Allan Collins, Earl Woodworth, and Peter Black.”
“I don’t understand. How is this possible, I mean—how? They haven’t found the bodies, everyone just says they’re all dead. I think Woodworth left his wife, I mean, who’s to say that—”
“Your employer, Phillip Maslin, discovered four bodies, badly buried, I might add, beneath the floor of the barn. Now, we have found the murder weapon and if your prints are discovered on it, Mr. Stark, well…” The detective laughed.
“Then it’s quite unfortunate for you, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t kill anybody!” Jonny growled.
“Nevertheless, you are a suspect. Don’t leave town, Mr. Stark. We’ll be watching.”
He stood, dumbfounded, as he watched several policeman exiting the barn. Body bags were being loaded into the back of a vehicle. Detective Avery had a short discussion with Phillip, in which his index finger gestured in Jonny’s direction. No doubt the agent was telling Phillip to do anything he could to keep Jonathan Stark from leaving the farm.
He could feel Julie’s stare on him. He looked over to the house and saw her watching from one of the upstairs rooms. Once the police and FBI agents had left the property, Jonathan stood there, freezing and thinking.
He remembered Julie’s warning. He wondered why Avery had accused him of killing Earl Woodworth when they hadn’t found the man’s body yet. Phillip Maslin discovered four bodies, as the detective had pointed out.
Jonathan felt his feet numbing in the snow. He thrust his hands into his pockets and stood there, staring toward the barn. He wondered if he was frozen from fear or simply confusion. Either way, there were questions that plagued his mind.
How had the bodies of four men turned up in the Maslin’s’ barn? Jonny blinked his tired eyes and tried to gather his senses.
If he hadn’t killed those people, then who had?
***
After Jonny was taken to the police station, photographed and fingerprinted as a murder suspect and sent home, the news quickly came back that Stark’s fingerprints had been found on the murder weapon. On January twenty-sixth, Jonny was arrested on five first-degree murder charges.
Even with a low-rent lawyer, he still managed to get most of the charges dropped. No one could prove he’d killed all five of the unfortunate victims. Jonny had first insisted that he hadn’t the faintest idea how his prints had gotten on the axe in the barn. By the third day of the trial, he was willing to admit that he did know how they had gotten there.