The waiter came at that moment and took drink orders. I had a club soda, Sabrina had a lemonade, and Jackson ordered a beer.
“It’s confession time,” he said when the waiter left. “Not all of what you told me at the house was a surprise. Some of it was, but not all.”
We waited. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts.
“I knew that Lucinda wasn’t killed by the serial killer. She escaped her life and made it clear to me that she didn’t want to be found.”
“Did your parents know that?” asked Sabrina, “or did they think she died at the hands of the serial killer?”
“That’s where it gets complicated.” He sighed. “Lucinda told me that she had proof that our father, the powerful Lucas Holt himself, was The Taunting Man.”
Chapter 23
“What?”
I actually felt my mouth hanging open in surprise. I thought that only happened in cartoons.
“I don’t know anything about him,” Sabrina said. She seemed to take the announcement in stride. “But from what I’ve heard about him, he doesn’t fit the profile of a serial killer at all.”
“Did Lucinda give you any of the proof?” I asked.
“No. She just said that the proof was irrefutable. She said she sent him copies of the evidence and told him that if he didn’t stop, she’d send it to the police. The killer was never heard from again, so I have to think it was true and he stopped.”
“Didn’t Lucinda hate him?” asked Sabrina, “Why wouldn’t she have turned him in anyway?”
“He was still her father.”
There was silence while we absorbed it all. Finally, Sabrina shook her head.
“Serial killers don’t just stop killing,” she said.
“Some do,” Jackson responded. “The Zodiac Killer did. Dennis Rader, the BTK Killer, did as well. There are others. Sometimes they stop because they die or get arrested for something unrelated, but sometimes they just stop.”
“You seem to know a lot about this,” I said.
“Like Sabrina, I didn’t think they just stopped either, so I looked it up. Over the years I’ve done a lot of research on it. What makes them tick?”
“And you didn’t approach your father about it?” I asked.
“Despite it all, he was still my father.”
“What do you expect us to do with the information?”
“I’m sure there are many families that would like some closure,” said Sabrina. “I’m not sure I want to have this information and not do something with it.”
“I don’t care who you tell. I just ask that you hold off until you solve Lucinda’s murder.”
“If we solve it.”
“And that brings me to my favor. I’d like to help. Lucinda leaving my life absolutely broke my heart. I tried to find her over the years, but she covered her tracks well. Of course, once she went to prison, the trail would have gone cold anyway, but I didn’t know that she was in prison.”
The waiter came at that moment and we ordered lunch. While Jackson was ordering, Sabrina glanced at me and raised her eyebrows. She was looking to me for some guidance and I had none. Finally I shrugged, as in “why not.”
“We wouldn’t be opposed,” Sabrina said after the waiter had gone, “but you have to come clean with us. From everything we’ve heard, you and Lucinda were inseparable. You two had a falling out just before she left. It was big enough to cause her to sever ties with you. What happened? And don’t tell us it was just an argument.”
“No, it wasn’t. Her roommate was right. We had a knock-down-drag-out fight. Not a physical fight, but a highly-charged emotional one, and it was all about my father. I didn’t give you the whole truth when you asked why Lucinda hadn’t gone to the authorities about him. The fact that he was her father certainly played a part in her decision. You can hate your parents all of your life, but when it comes down to it, they are still your parents. But the real reason was me. At that point in my life I still had some loyalty to my parents, but I was also scared, scared of what it would mean for me if my father was found out. My parents’ business would go under and we would be penniless. I was being groomed to eventually take over the business. I know it was weak on my part, but I didn’t know what would become of me and I was scared. I wasn’t a very strong person.”
That fit with what Lucinda’s former roommate had said about him. I didn’t get that sense about him at all now. One would hope that by the age of sixty or so, you would toughen up.
“Did you eventually take over the business?” asked Sabrina.
“No. My parents refused to relinquish control. I became the sales manager and that’s where I stayed. When my parents were finally ready to retire, they hired an independent company to take over the reins. By then I had no interest in running it, so I finally stepped down a couple of years ago. I was getting profits from the business, so I was in a good position to retire early.”
“How do you see yourself helping?” I asked.
“Whatever you need. I don’t necessarily expect to go with you to investigate leads, but if you can keep me up-to-date, I might be able to provide help in other ways. I don’t know if either of you has lost a sibling, especially one you were close to, but it’s a horrible thing. She wasn’t just my sister and best friend, she was my rock. She was five years younger than I was, and yet I always relied on her for help and for strength. Not only did I lose her, but I lost her right after we fought. I don’t think I’ve ever completely lost the guilt from that. If we’d stayed in touch, maybe I could have done something to help her avoid prison. At worst I could have visited her there and given her something to live for. I just want to be involved.”
He was coming close to tears.
“We’ll involve you as much as we can,” said Sabrina. “I imagine it will be mostly informational things. We’ll also try to keep you abreast of our progress, and maybe it will spark a memory that will be useful.”
“You should know,” I said, “that someone doesn’t want us to solve this. There have been a few attempts made on our lives.”
Jackson’s eyes widened.
“And,” I added, “we’ve been followed throughout this whole thing.”
“By the people who are trying to kill you?”
“No,” said Sabrina. “In fact, this is where you can start to help us. Del managed to get some information out of one of the people following us. He was told that they were working for your father. Having met your father, I’m not sure he was capable of hiring people to follow us…”
“My mother,” Jackson interrupted. “You’re right, over the last year or so, my father’s mind has deteriorated. Did that person specifically say that it was my father who hired them?”
I nodded.
“Then my mother was involved. In many ways, my mother was always the one in control. My father was the face of the company and of the family, but it was my mother pulling the strings. But why would she care?”
“Daisy … Lucinda had some information about the family. Your mother knew that. She must have. Maybe it was the information about your father being the serial killer. But I have a sense that it was more than that.” Sabrina told him the story of Ronnie calling us and our trip to Lubbock, the empty safe deposit box and the blonde’s comment in Dallas that it contained personal information that was none of our business. She then told him about our visit with Karen Ackerman. I noticed that Sabrina gave only what was necessary and didn’t use Ronnie’s or Karen’s name. Trust only went so far.
“So the question is: why was your mother so determined to get the contents of the box, and even after getting it, why did she continue to have us followed?”
“I don’t know. But I can ask her.”
“If she hasn’t told you by now, she won’t tell you,” said Sabrina. “We think it might have something to do with the Clover Mine disaster. Would you have any idea why?”
“No. My father was involved in some way. There was something that he didn’t want to ge
t out, but I’ve never known what it was. I think it was big, though.”
“Do you think that now that your father has died, your mother might tell you?” I asked. “And maybe she could tell you what was in the box.”
“It’s worth a try. I have a little more influence with her than I used to. Plus, she’s getting old and has lost her husband. She might be ready to open up. You said someone else was trying to kill you. Do you know who?”
“Not a clue.”
“You know,” said Sabrina. “Your mother could be in a lot of trouble. If she was responsible for the theft of the contents of that safe deposit box, that’s a felony. She could go to prison. You might want to let her know.”
“I will.”
Our lunch came. We talked about lighter things while we ate. Jackson asked us about our lives and had lots of questions for Sabrina about her writing. I noticed that at one point Sabrina threw in a question about Senator Wheeler. While Jackson was familiar with him, he gave no indication of having ever met the senator, confirming the senator’s statement of not knowing Jackson.
We thanked Jackson for lunch and promised to keep him in the loop. He, in turn, said that he would grill his mother for information about the mine and about the safe deposit box. He walked us out to our car, we said our goodbyes, and he left in his car.
“Where to?” I asked.
“How about Philly. Let’s see if we can find someone who knows something about Lucinda’s life on the run.”
Chapter 24
We were tired of driving, so we took a puddle jumper from Pittsburgh to Philly. Sabrina had spent some time online looking up the reports of the trial. The details were sketchy—it was amazing the difference the computer age had brought to the gathering of information. Nowadays we could have found out the color of the underwear Daisy was wearing in court. What we did find out was that Daisy’s husband was named Derek Boyer. The articles even listed Derek and Daisy’s address. At least we had something to go on.
We rented yet another car. We really had to buy some stock in Hertz. While we were at it, we’d buy some stock in Dunkin Donuts as well. We had put Daisy’s address in the GPS and were heading there with our coffees and breakfast sandwiches at our side. “Breakfast sandwich” was kind of a misnomer since it was getting close to dinner time, but that didn’t stop us. We could live on those things. Besides, we wanted to find the house before it was too late in the day. We could think about dinner later, after we’d checked into our hotel.
The GPS brought us to an old neighborhood, old not in an unpleasant way. It was a mixture of brick houses and clapboard houses, all two- to three-stories. The neighborhood was kept up well, with people seemingly taking pride in their yards. It was the kind of street where fifty years earlier, everyone knew everyone else and kids could roam without fear of being abducted or murdered. We didn’t get that feeling from it now. Although pleasant, we seriously doubted that anyone knew more than a couple of other families on the street—or wanted to know them. It had become a secretive world, one that Sabrina would probably approve of.
Daisy’s old house was one of the few on the street that looked like it had had a serious makeover. It was modern and immaculate, with an equally immaculate yard. We stopped in front of it, parking at the curb, and looked it over.
“Do we ring the bell?” I asked.
Sabrina appeared not to have heard me. She was looking at all of the other houses.
“That one,” she said, pointing to a house across the street and two houses down.
“That one what?” I asked.
“There’s no sense in asking about Daisy at the house she lived in. They wouldn’t know. They would have moved in after the murder. I was looking for a house that might belong to someone who was actually here at the time, and that one over there looks the part. It’s been kept up generally well, but there are indications that the current residents have been there a long time—the overstuffed shed on the side of the house and the chairs on the porch that look like they’ve been there since the Civil War. I say we should check with them first.”
That’s why she was a bestselling mystery author. I never would have seen all that. Or even thought to look for it.
We decided to use the mystery-author-doing-research approach. Everybody is happy to help an author if they think there will be a chance that their name will be mentioned in the book.
We stayed parked where we were and walked across the street, opening the gate of an old picket fence that could have used a fresh paint job. The steps to the porch had also seen better days and I just hoped I wasn’t going to go through them. Okay, so most of the houses on the street had been fixed up. Sabrina knocked on the door, using an ancient brass knocker.
An old bald guy with a two-day’s growth of white whiskers answered the door.
“Help you?” He was pleasant, but wary. “If you’re selling religion, I already have some.”
We had experienced that reaction from people in our previous adventure, when we had traveled to the Midwest, so we were used to it. I guess we just had the look.
Sabrina laughed. It was a put-him-at-ease kind of laugh, and coming from someone as beautiful as Sabrina, it definitely put him at ease.
The guy looked to be on the other side of eighty, which would probably explain the house and yard on the decline. He wore hearing aids and had reading glasses that had slid down to the end of his nose. He was peering at Sabrina. At her laugh, he gave her a smile.
Sabrina opened it up.
“No, we’re not selling anything. My name is Sabrina Spencer. I’m an author of mystery novels. This is Del Honey…”
“I thought I recognized you. I’ve read your books and have seen all of the stories about you on the news. You’re a brave girl.”
“Thank you. This is Del Honey…”
“Can’t believe someone like you would get shot at. I got shot at over in Korea and it scared the living shit out of me. Excuse the language.”
“That’s okay. This is Del Honey…”
“I bet I know why you’re here. I bet you read about the murder we had here twenty some-odd years ago and are doing some research on it.”
“Why yes I am.” She had finally abandoned trying to introduce me.
“Well come in,” he said, holding the door for us. “What’s your name?” he asked me.
“Del Honeycutt,” I said quickly, before he could interrupt. It didn’t matter. I’m not sure he was even listening.
“I’m Fred Simon. If my wife was still here, she could tell you a lot more about it. She had a great memory and was kind of a busybody, if you know what I mean. Unfortunately, Sally passed on about five years ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Sabrina.
“It’s what happens when you get old. Don’t get old. You lose your hair and you wear hearing aids and dentures.”
“Fun,” I muttered.
“What?”
“I said that it must not be any fun.”
“Barrel of laughs.”
He didn’t offer us anything to drink, which was fine with us. We sat in the living room on an ancient couch. Old Fred sat opposite us in a recliner. The TV was blaring in the background. Fred picked up a remote and tried to either turn down the sound or turn it off, I wasn’t quite sure what. But he had the remote upside down and every button he pushed changed the channel. Finally, he just got frustrated with it and handed it to me.
“Here, you do it.”
I turned it off. The room went silent.
“Hate those things,” said Fred. He turned his attention to Sabrina. “I can’t believe I’ve got a real live mystery author in my house. Sally would have been thrilled. What questions do you have?”
“Did you know Daisy and Derek well?”
“Pretty well. Back then, most of the people on this end of the street knew each other. Not anymore. I don’t know anyone, except to say hi to.”
“What were they like?”
“She was nervous as all get o
ut. I could never understand it. She was a pretty girl, like you.”
Uh oh, he was flirting with her. I figured I might have to kill him.
“Derek was nice too. He always stopped to talk. A real normal guy. So sad that he was murdered.”
“Do you think Daisy did it?”
“She had to. She was convicted. Besides, that guy told me about Daisy and I had to testify at the trial. I hated doing that.”
“Who told you about Daisy?” I asked. “And about what?”
“Don’t know who he was, but I had to tell the police about it, which is why I testified. Some guy stopped by and told me to be careful around Daisy. He said they had to leave Phoenix because of her. He told me to warn Derek that his wife was planning to kill him. It was ridiculous and I didn’t believe him. Daisy was a nice girl. Nervous, but nice. But he mentioned Phoenix and I know that’s where they moved from. I didn’t know what to think.”
“Did you mention it to Derek?” asked Sabrina.
“Didn’t see him that day, and she killed him that night.”
“Someone killed him that night,” I said.
“True. Could’ve been anyone, I suppose.”
“Do you remember what this man looked like?” asked Sabrina.
“Young guy. Well, younger than me anyway. It was cold and rainy that day. The guy had a raincoat with a hood and it was pouring. I never got a good look at him. All I know is that he said that they had to leave Phoenix because of her and that she was going to kill him.”
“Did you go to the police?” I asked.
“With what? I didn’t believe him. I told the guy that if he felt strongly about it, he should go to the police, but he mumbled something about being afraid for his life, then he left. Weirdest encounter I’ve ever had. You can understand why I dismissed it, can’t you? It was just too unbelievable. I always wondered though, if I had gone to the police, would Derek have been killed?”
Fatal Lies ( Lies Mystery Thriller Series Book 2) Page 13