Dead of Spring: An Alexa Williams Novel

by Sherry Knowlton

  Mid-morning, Melinda bustled into Alexa’s office. “We’ve got schedule problems. The Criminal Investigation Department just called.” She glanced at the note in her hand. “A Detective Marshall. He wants you to come to Harrisburg tomorrow for another interview at two o’clock.”

  Alexa glanced at her packed calendar. “Can’t he come here?”

  “That was my first question. Says he needs you to walk him through the scene, like in those cop shows.”

  “Yeah, but that’s usually when there’s some sort of foul play. This guy committed suicide.” Alexa turned back to her schedule and sighed. “At least I don’t have any court appearances. Just clear the afternoon. Maybe Vanessa can take my appointment with the Sollenbergers. And we’ll have to reschedule the discussion with Jason Durbin. Letting him and his client stew for a couple extra days will give them time to reconsider their claim against the Buchanan estate.”

  “Don’t they know you can’t pick a bald chicken?”

  Alexa cracked up. “Who would have guessed the Pennsylvania Dutch would have a saying that describes estate law so well? You’re right. There’s not a whole lot in the Buchanan estate to fight over.”

  “I’ll call that detective about tomorrow.” As Melinda turned to leave, the phone rang. She reached over Alexa’s desk to pick it up. “Alexa Williams’ office. May I help you? Just a moment, I’ll see if she’s available.” Melinda cupped her hand over the receiver and whispered, “Darby Kaplan?”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Melinda handed over the phone and left the office, closing the door behind her.

  “Hello, Darby.” Alexa switched the phone into speaker mode.

  “Hi. I haven’t been able to track down Aldo Hauck about that lawsuit yet. He’s on vacation this week. But I just remembered something this morning. I can’t imagine why it didn’t hit me yesterday. Your client lives in Tioga County, right?”

  “Right.” Alexa responded.

  “Well, you have to talk to Walt Jordan.” The name meant nothing to Alexa, but before she could ask, Darby raced on. “Representative Jordan is leading the charge in the State legislature against fracking. I told you about this new effort to open up drilling in state parks. He’s knee-deep in the fight against that bill. Plus, Walt represents Tioga County. So he would know everything that’s happening up there.” Darby took a breath. “Are you going to be in Harrisburg tomorrow?”

  “I have some business in the capitol tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I already talked to Walt’s assistant, Natalie. She owes me one, so she said she could squeeze you in the schedule tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock?”

  “That will work. Thanks, Darby.”

  “No problem. I’ll be in touch.”

  On the road to Harrisburg the next afternoon, Alexa speculated about why the detective wanted a second interview. And a walk-through. What was that about? Then she switched to the meeting with this legislator. Why had she agreed so quickly to Darby’s suggestion? The commission experience had soured Alexa on legislators and the political games they played. She’d found that a good portion of the men and women who represented Pennsylvania’s citizenry had only the most rudimentary understanding of human trafficking―and a deep certainty that “it doesn’t happen here.” To be fair, she’d also encountered flashes of brilliance, in both the rank-and-file and the leadership. But, on something as complicated as hydraulic fracturing? She wasn’t holding her breath for this meeting with Walt Jordan.

  “Ms. Williams. I understand you’re representing one of my constituents in a dispute with Monongas Energy?” Representative Jordan met Alexa at the door of his office with his hand extended.

  She shook the proffered hand. “Temporarily. I’m hoping to connect my client with an existing class action lawsuit or another firm that has expertise in damages from natural gas drilling.”

  “Let’s sit.” Jordan pointed to a couch and chair in the corner of the room. His committee position must have snagged the legislator this beautiful old office in the main capitol. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and the sitting area faced a huge fireplace.

  But Alexa’s impression of the room took a back seat to her reaction to the representative. This man was gorgeous. Tall with broad shoulders, his close-cropped black hair showed a hint of gray at the temples. He wore his charcoal suit with an easy, athletic assurance. Alexa hadn’t expected him to be so young. Around forty, she guessed.

  She forced her attention to the task at hand. “Thanks for agreeing to meet. Darby Kaplan suggested I speak to you about my client and friend, Jeannie Demeter’s, issues. I have her permission to describe her family’s experience with Monongas. As I mentioned, I’m looking to find her appropriate representation for potential legal action. With all due respect, I’m not sure there’s a political angle here.”

  Jordan gave a knowing laugh. “Ms. Williams.”

  “Alexa’s fine.”

  “Alexa, there’s always a political angle. And that’s especially true with anything that creates as much money as fracking. Would it surprise you to hear that in last year’s fiscal code bill, the other side of the aisle tried to sneak in a clause to exempt drillers from damage, personal injury, and environmental lawsuits?”

  “Seriously? I know there’s a move to expand fracking into state lands. But an exemption from legal action―that’s reprehensible.” Alexa’s shock brought her upright on the couch.

  “Are you speaking as a lawyer or a citizen?”

  Alexa wasn’t sure how to interpret his question. “Both. This sounds like someone is in the industry’s pocket.”

  “Well, you’ll be glad to know the provision got dropped when it came to the floor. But I wouldn’t be surprised to see it surface again in the budget we’re working on now.”

  “Clearly, a provision like that would disadvantage my client and a lot of others who have been hurt by the fracking industry. I understand you don’t support fracking?”

  “Hardly.” Jordan rose and walked to his desk. “For my constituents, fracking has been,” he paused. “Let’s call it a mixed blessing. A few have made a tidy sum from leasing their land to Monongas. In Tioga County, the major fracking company is Monongas. They got in first and locked up so many leases that the other companies passed us by. But many of my constituents have battled environmental degradation, water contamination, loss of livestock, or developed health issues. Or all of the above.” He returned to his chair carrying a large poster board.

  Alexa identified the display. “A map of Tioga County?”

  “Yes. The black dots are all sites of wells drilled by Monongas. Most of them are still working. Some are capped. The ones with red squares are the locations where there’s been a reported issue.”

  Alarmed by the amount of red, Alexa took in the profusion of dots that covered a large percentage of the map. She tried to figure out which dot marked Jeannie and Tom’s farm, but Alexa didn’t know the county geography.

  The representative put down the chart. “So you’re correct. I don’t support the fracking industry. In fact, my focus has been on limiting any further expansion in the state―especially this recent attempt to revive drilling in state parks.”

  Glancing at her watch, Alexa saw she was running out of time. She’d been allotted a half an hour. “Do you know if there are any legal actions against fracking in your county? My client’s main concern is her child. The girl has developed an aggressive brain cancer. The doctor believes it could have been caused by some of the chemicals used in fracking. The family can’t handle the cost of co-pays, deductibles, and other supplies. They’re driving back and forth to the children’s hospital in Philadelphia all the time. And Jeannie had to quit work to care for her daughter. Monongas should be held financially accountable.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about the child’s illness. I wasn’t aware of the Demeters’ situation.” The representative scowled. “Two suggestions. There’s a group called Friends of Pine Creek with a major environmental action
in the works against Monongas. There’s a public heath component to that suit. I know they’re looking for any negative health impact from fracking in the county. Second idea. One of the big national personal injury law firms represents a few of the families who’re dealing with major medical conditions they attribute to fracking. I’ll have my assistant track down the name for you.”

  “I appreciate the help.” Alexa handed the legislator her business card. “Here’s my contact information.” She stood, and Jordan walked her to the door.

  He stopped at the threshold. “I’ve heard about you and some of the bad actors you’ve exposed. You’re chairing this Commission on Human Trafficking. I’m glad you’ve developed an interest in the fracking problem. Someone with your passion, Ms. Williams, can only help the cause.” Jordan opened the door and placed a light hand on Alexa’s shoulder to guide her over the doorsill.

  “Thanks again,” Alexa murmured as she left. The warmth of his hand burned into her shoulder down all three flights of stairs to the main floor.

  Detective Marshall stood in the rotunda amid the typical weekday throng of legislators, lobbyists, constituents, and tour groups. His expression gave no indication of how long he’d been waiting. “Thanks for coming, Ms. Williams. I know it’s a drive from Carlisle.”

  “Happy to help. But I’m not sure I have anything new for you. I told you everything I remembered last Tuesday night.” Alexa slipped off her coat and slung it over the crook of her arm.

  “Let’s walk over there to the bench.” Marshall led Alexa across the rotunda to the marble bench on the left. “You and Ms. Washington were sitting here, correct?”

  “Yes.” Alexa felt queasy, sitting on this bench again.

  “Which side were you on?”

  “The right.”

  “Let’s sit.” Marshall gestured to the bench. When they were seated, he turned to Alexa. “Please take me through everything that happened that night again. Who did you see? What did you hear? What happened when Senator Martinelli fell?”

  “There was no one around when I got here.” Alexa closed her eyes and tried to tune out the noisy throng and the sick feeling in her stomach. She recalled her brief fantasy about the figure of Law floating out of her painting. Shades of Harry Potter. Alexa stifled an inappropriate laugh, remembering they were here to discuss a man’s death. She continued in a sober tone. “I sat here alone for a few minutes, and then Keisha Washington arrived.”

  “From where?”

  “She walked down the first floor hall on the Senate side and came directly here.” Alexa gestured to the bench. She continued to recount the evening’s events with Marshall interrupting every few sentences with a question.

  “How many men did you hear arguing above you? Can you describe their voices?” The detective pressed hard when Alexa described the altercation she and Keisha had overheard.

  “Three for sure. There could have been a fourth. At the beginning, the voices talked over each other. I got the impression that at least two men were upset with the third guy. He refused to do something the others wanted. They accused him of backing out. I heard three distinct voices. Toward the end, I caught a muffled voice. It could have been one of those three, or it could have been another person.”

  “A woman?”

  “The voices all sounded male to me.”

  “Did you notice anything distinct about the voices?

  Alexa considered the question for a moment. “Maybe. The older guy, the one people were upset with, his voice sounded a little raspy.”

  “Why do you say he was older?”

  “I said that without really thinking. But his voice sounded sort of frail, like my grandfather’s before he died.”

  “Anything else?” Marshall moved on.

  “Another guy sounded like an arrogant jerk, talking about paying the fiddler. But the most distinct thing about his voice was the drawl. He sounded like someone born in the South, who’s lived in the North for years. Or the opposite. I have a law school friend from Nebraska. Now that she’s lived in Georgia awhile, she speaks with just a hint of a southern accent.”

  “Would you recognize those two voices again?”

  “Maybe.” Alexa had cooperated with the police, but she was tiring of this little exercise. She hated reliving that awful night. Why was he questioning her again? “Detective, can I ask why this quarrel is so important? Keisha and I assumed they were fighting about the pension bill. That’s what the Senate was debating at the time. Do you think they could have seen Senator Martinelli?”

  Marshall ignored her question and pulled his phone from a jacket pocket. He looked around, and Alexa followed his eyes as they swept the rotunda. The crowd had cleared, and they were alone except for two twenty-somethings wearing lobbyist tags, standing on the far side of the stairs. “Listen to this.” The cop held the phone near to Alexa’s ear and hit a button.

  She was surprised to hear some guy giving a political speech. “Pennsylvania faces a bright future thanks to the natural gas industry. Hydraulic fracturing has brought us jobs, increased rural income, and opened up a rich energy source in the Commonwealth. Once again, the Keystone State is proud to reaffirm our significance to the nation. Pennsylvania is the linchpin to the restoration of America’s energy independence.” Alexa rolled her eyes at the rhetoric but had no doubt as she listened to the raspy voice.

  “That’s him. That’s the older man who had everyone pissed off,” Alexa cried. “Who is it?”

  Marshall hesitated, and then responded. “Senator Carmine Martinelli.”

  Alexa raised her eyebrows as she put two and two together. “Who decided to leap over the railing a few minutes after the argument?”

  With a serious expression, the policeman put the phone back in his pocket. “We have reason to believe Senator Martinelli’s death may not have been a suicide.”

  Chapter Nine

  Shocked that she might have witnessed a murder, not a suicide, Alexa huddled on the bench for a few moments after the detective left. She tried to come to grips with this disturbing revelation. Maybe she was a death magnet after all. Finally, searching for a distraction, she decided to check on the progress of the trafficking paper. She hadn’t heard from Keisha since the commission meeting.

  “Hello, Alexa. Keisha’s in a meeting right now, but Lauren’s here.” Senator Gabler’s perky receptionist projected faux cheer.

  Lauren met Alexa in the same small conference room they’d used before. The intern tiptoed to the kitchen door and made sure it was latched before she joined Alexa at the conference table.

  “Did you ever report that jerk?” Alexa waved toward the door.

  “El Jerko Gigundo,” Lauren joked. “No. I didn’t want to get our office into some big brouhaha with him. Even though the guy gives me the evil eye, like, every time I pass him in the hall, Senator Gabler needs him for a key legislative initiative. It’s no big deal. Remember, I’ll only be here until the semester ends.”

  “You’re a junior, right?”

  “Yes. Next fall I’m back to campus full time. This internship lasts just one semester.”

  Alexa smiled. “And what has this experience taught you? Are you planning to go into government or politics when you graduate?”

  Lauren fiddled with the row of earrings dotting her right ear. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll go to work for Emily’s List or something like that. Or maybe I’ll go to grad school and get my master’s first. I’ve got, like, months to figure it out.”

  “If you ever need a reference, let me know.” Alexa grinned. “And if you decide to file a complaint against Mr. Jerko Gigundo, I’m your witness.”

  “I’m guessing you’re here about the report,” Lauren sidestepped. “Keisha and I have been working on it. We’ve got a rough first draft, but it needs some more work before you see it.” She looked at the calendar on the wall. “Today’s Wednesday. We should be able to get you something by Monday at the latest.”

  “OK. I’d like to get a first
official draft out to the larger group by next Friday. Then, incorporate their comments into a final report.”

  “Yeah. Keisha’s already gotten a few calls from commission members hot to see it.”

  Alexa stood up. “Can you draft an email with a timetable? I can send it out so everyone knows what to expect.”

  “Sure. No problemo.” The irrepressible intern bounced out of the room, Alexa trailing in her wake.

  Alexa never considered going back to the office. Her brain was fried, and she needed fresh air. When she reached the cabin, Alexa changed into jeans and a warm jacket and ran outside. “Scout, let’s go for a hike,” she called. “Thanks to daylight savings time, we have enough light to walk to Weaver’s Pond.”

  The mastiff charged ahead of Alexa on the trail, then raced back. “Watch it there, buddy,” she cautioned as the dog tripped over a log next to the trail. By the time they reached the pond, Scout’s tongue was lolling. He collapsed at Alexa’s feet when she sat on her favorite log. Together, they contemplated the silent pond, still ringed with a fringe of ice.

  Alexa’s mind whirled. The police believed Senator Martinelli had been murdered. And, clearly, they suspected one or all of the men who’d been quarreling. Marshall had told Alexa to keep the news quiet, but she wondered if Keisha knew about this new twist in the investigation. Then, her thoughts shifted to Walt Jordan. She had to admit this particular legislator seemed to stand out from the crowd. Perhaps he was a master of charm and deception, but his passion against fracking came across as sincere. There was no doubt about his good looks. And that brief moment of courtesy when his hand rested on her back. Memorable. Alexa shook her head in dismay.

  So now I’m letting a pretty face sway me?

  She jumped to her feet, rubbing her cold bottom to restore circulation.

  “Let’s go home, buddy. It’s too cold to sit out here.” On the walk back, Scout stayed by Alexa’s side. Still lost in thought, she patted the mastiff’s head every time he bumped against her hand.