by Sherry Lewis
“If Garrett hurt anyone else around here, maybe the girls could help each other. Admitting what happened to Alison might encourage other girls to tell their parents, or their parents to tell the truth.” And maybe they’d find someone else who had reason to want Garrett Locke dead. But Fred didn’t voice that thought. Instead, he asked, “What do we do next?”
“We don’t do anything,” Enos said. “I’m going to have a talk with Suzanne and I’ll look into your allegations. But from here on out, this is part of an official investigation. Here’s where you don’t cross the line.”
Fred nodded. He’d done what he could, he’d have to trust Enos to take it the rest of the way. “I guess you’ll be wanting us gone when Suzanne gets here.”
Enos dropped heavily into his chair and built a tepee with his fingers. “Actually, I’d like you to stay for a few minutes. I’d like to talk with Doug and Suzanne together. But when I tell you to go, I don’t want any argument.”
“Of course not.” Fred tried not to resent Enos’s suggestion that he made a habit of arguing.
Enos narrowed his eyes but nodded his acceptance, and silence fell between them. He tapped his fingers against his lips to a beat only he could hear and made occasional sounds with his tongue against his teeth.
Douglas managed to sit still for about three minutes before he jumped up and started pacing. He looked as if he’d aged ten years in the past week.
Fred watched them both and told himself he’d done the right thing. But he had to struggle to quiet the constant repetition of Enos’s words in the back of his mind. Other girls. He wondered if they’d ever really know the extent of the damage Garrett Locke had done.
TWENTY FOUR
Several minutes dragged by in silence while Douglas paced and Enos thought about what Douglas had just told him. Finally, Enos stopped tapping his finger tepee against his lips and asked, “What did you do with the table leg after you got it away from Garrett?”
Douglas stopped mid-step. “I must have dropped it on the floor on my way out. To tell you the truth, I don’t remember. I remember thinking Garrett could grab up another one and come after me again, so I held on to it for a while.”
“Why didn’t you just leave? Or call me?”
“I was too angry. I just kept picturing his filthy hands on Alison, and the only thing that made me feel better at all was smashing my fist into his face.”
Fred digested Douglas’s words slowly. “Then why did you stop?”
“What?”
“If you were that angry and you were fighting the man, what made you stop?”
Douglas shook his head as if to clear it. “I didn’t want to kill him. I mean—” He broke off, looking confused.
“Maybe you heard something that made you stop,” Fred suggested. “You were violently angry and you had Garrett backing up. You had a weapon in your hands. Something must have made you leave. Did you hear somebody else coming?”
Douglas considered that, his eyes trained on the ceiling as if he’d find the answer there. But after several seconds, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. No. I don’t know.”
“Think back, son—”
“I am but I can’t remember. I wish I could.”
Enos stood and put a hand on Douglas’s shoulder. “I’m going to look into it. I’d give anything to prove you’re innocent, but I don’t want to find out Suzanne’s guilty, either.”
“None of us do,” Fred agreed.
Enos checked his watch again and frowned. “You haven’t told Suzanne what you suspect, have you?”
Fred shook his head. “We came straight to you.”
“Then what’s keeping her? It seems like forever since I called.” Enos crossed to the window and peered out as if he could make Suzanne show up by sheer force of will.
“I guess this’ll shoot any chance I had of reconciling with her down the tubes,” Douglas said with a feeble attempt at humor.
Enos looked back at Douglas over his shoulder. “Don’t try to hang on, Doug. She doesn’t care about you anymore, and once a woman stops caring, it’s time to give up.” He stared out the window again.
Fred kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t have said it better himself, but he couldn’t help wondering whether Enos was thinking of Margaret or Jessica.
They stayed like that for several minutes until Enos turned back suddenly. “She’s here.”
Douglas’s color rose and he looked toward the door.
Suddenly nervous, Fred couldn’t sit any longer. He stood and took his place beside Douglas as the door opened.
Suzanne saw Fred and Douglas immediately, and with narrowed eyes she turned to Enos. “What’s going on here?”
“Doug and Fred have told me something I want to check out with you.” Suddenly all business, Enos turned away from the window and went back to his desk. He dropped into his chair and gestured to the one Fred had just vacated. “Why don’t you have a seat? This should only take a few minutes.”
She didn’t move. “What did they tell you?”
“It concerns Alison.”
Her face blanched. With wide, frantic eyes she turned to Douglas. “What did you tell him?”
“The truth,” Douglas said.
Enos gestured again to the chair. “Sit down, Suzanne.”
This time she took his advice and lowered herself into the chair.
“Is it true that Garrett molested Alison?”
Instead of answering, she glared at Fred. “I suppose this is your doing. You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”
“Having Douglas go to trial for murder just doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Is it true, Suzanne?” Enos pressed.
She waited for several seconds, as if she hoped Enos would forget his question. But when he cleared his throat to speak again, she nodded and said, “I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“We can’t keep it secret, Suzanne. Alison—” Douglas protested.
She bolted from her chair. “You promised me, Doug. If I’d had any idea what you were going to do, I never would have told you about it.”
“How long have you known?” Enos asked, ignoring the interruption.
“I found out a few days before Garrett died.”
“Did you confront Garrett with it?”
She shook her head and looked away. “I tried to deny it at first. I didn’t want to believe it. But after a couple of days, I realized something was terribly wrong with Alison and I decided to call Yvonne. When she told me about Jenny, I knew it was true.”
Fred had intended to keep quiet, but he had to ask, “What happened to make you call Yvonne in the first place?”
“Alison didn’t like Garrett. She didn’t want him around and she avoided him whenever he came over. I thought she was having trouble adjusting to the divorce, that she hated seeing me with somebody besides Doug—that sort of thing. Anyway, one day Alison was home from school with the flu. I ran out for a few minutes, and Celeste ran up to Lacey’s for something. She thought it would be all right to leave Alison alone, but when she got home, she found Garrett there. Alison started acting strangely after that—quiet, withdrawn, almost as if she was afraid of something. Celeste told me something was wrong, in fact, she suspected Garrett had upset Alison in some way, but I just kept insisting what a nice man he was and how sweet he’d been to check on her. . .” She broke off with a sob.
Fred fought the urge to put his arm around her for about a minute, then gave in to impulse. She stiffened when he touched her, but eventually relaxed against him.
“I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to think I could have been so stupid— I’d seen it before when it happened to my cousin, and I should have known. But I didn’t want to believe it.”
“Did you kill him, Suzanne?” Enos asked softly.
“No.”
“Did you tell him what you knew?”
She shook her head. “I was going to ask him about it that night, that’s why I went to dinner with him. B
ut things got out of hand and I never got the chance.”
Fred still didn’t understand why she’d have that kind of conversation over a lovely dinner at the town’s nicest restaurant, but he couldn’t let himself get sidetracked.
“Don’t try to blame me for the fact that you didn’t talk to him,” Douglas protested. “I didn’t stop you from confronting him.”
“He was too upset when we left the Four Seasons. I couldn’t confront him then. I decided to wait a day or two—”
“You believed the man had sexually molested Alison and you were worried about his feelings?” Fred didn’t understand that reasoning at all.
Suzanne met his gaze with wide brown eyes. “I didn’t want to believe it. Maybe I didn’t want to hear him admit it. He just didn’t seem the type. . .” Her words trailed away and she looked at each of them as if pleading with them to understand.
But Fred couldn’t oblige her. He didn’t understand at all.
Douglas didn’t look inclined to accommodate her, either. “You haven’t had the same kind of trouble believing I’m guilty of murder.”
“I know how angry you were when I told you. And telling you was what made me realize the truth—hearing myself say it aloud, I guess. But you’d already gone after him. I waited a little while, and when you didn’t come back, I went out to find you. I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret. But the store was dark and nobody answered at Garrett’s house, so I went back home. I guess you and Celeste were still out looking for me.” She shuddered at the memory. “When I heard the next day that Garrett had been murdered, what else could I think?”
Douglas’s face didn’t soften. “Yeah. What else?” He turned away from her. “Do you need anything more from me right now, Enos? I’d like to get out of here.”
Enos shook his head and nodded to Grady who opened the door. With his head high, Douglas stepped outside into the sunshine, and Fred followed. They walked down the boardwalk, stepped off onto the pavement and started across Main Street in silence. But Fred couldn’t resist putting his arm around Douglas’s shoulders as they walked away.
Douglas had finally put Suzanne behind him and they’d raised significant doubt in Enos’s mind about Douglas’s guilt to prod further investigation into the murder. And he’d eventually clear Douglas. Fred should feel satisfied. But he couldn’t push the thought of other girls—and other parents—from his mind.
From two blocks away, Janice Lacey stopped in the act of propping up the in-store special sign and waved energetically. Grateful they weren’t any closer, Fred waved back. He’d have hated to get caught up in one of her gossip fests.
He almost rounded the corner onto Lake Front when that thought pulled him up short. If anybody would know whether there were troubled children in Cutler, other parents angry enough to kill Garrett over what he’d done, Janice would.
He patted Douglas’s shoulder and pulled his arm away. “You go on home, son. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“I don’t need to go home right now. I can come with you.”
Fred shrugged casually. “Fine. I’m just running down to Lacey’s for a few things.”
Douglas stopped. “Lacey’s?”
“I just want to pick up a few things.”
Douglas shook his head and backed away a couple of steps.
“We’ll be quick,” Fred urged.
“I don’t want to go there. That woman’s the most godawful gossip. . .”
Fred tried to look disappointed. “Are you sure? Look, we’ll just ignore her—”
Douglas had already turned away, but he waved his hands over his head as if to ward off demon spirits. “No way. You go ahead. I’ll see you at home.”
Fred watched until Douglas had moved off several feet before he allowed himself to smile. Tucking his hands into his pockets and whistling a tune that had been his father’s favorite, he set off in his own direction.
He could almost see Janice Lacey’s nose twitching with excitement as he drew closer. Her gray curls bobbed in the sunlight as she struggled with the sign over a crack in the boardwalk.
If she had looked at her task instead of at him, she’d have put it right in an instant. As it was, Fred had to help her position the sign’s legs on two solid boards to keep it from tipping sideways.
“Gracious,” Janice fluttered. “I don’t know why I was having such a time with that sign today.”
Fred bit his tongue to keep from pointing out the obvious. If he wanted Janice’s informed opinion on disturbed young girls, he couldn’t start off by antagonizing her. “I’m just glad I could help.”
“Were you coming here? Didn’t I see Douglas with you? I haven’t seen much of him since he came back to town.” She frowned for an instant, then replaced it with a sympathetic smile. “Of course, I know just how he must feel. Why yesterday morning, Emma Brumbaugh brought up the murder again—you know what a busybody she can be. She had everybody in the store talking about it. And as long as people are going to talk about it, Douglas isn’t going to want to show his face.” She shook her head and pushed open the store’s wide glass door.
Fred stepped inside and breathed the familiar cinnamon-spice scent that Janice always used in the store. He gave the place a quick once-over. Empty. Good. “It’s been real hard on him,” he admitted.
Janice’s eyes lit up. “I can just imagine. That poor boy. Bill thinks—and Bill knew Garrett as well as anybody, I’d imagine, since they worked right here in town almost alongside of each other— Anyway, Bill thinks it’s tied up with the money somehow.”
“Does he? Why?” Fred didn’t need to pretend an interest in that.
“Have you seen Olivia lately? No? Well she’s turned herself into a new woman. Fancy new car, new clothes, had her hair cut. And—” Janice looked around and lowered her voice. “—she told Bill that she’s changing the name of the store. . .”
“Really?”
“. . . To ‘Olivia’s’. Now why do you suppose she’s doing that? Locke’s isn’t good enough for her, I suppose.”
Fred glanced out the window to the store front of Locke’s across the street. “She inherited the store?”
“Lock, stock and barrel.” Janice bobbed her head up and down vigorously. “Garrett didn’t leave one thing to that poor little girl of his. Not one thing. Tragic, that’s what I call it. Parents get upset with each other and split up, and what happens to the kids?” She broke off and put her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean anything personal by that.”
Fred had no doubt just how close to home she’d intended the remark to hit. He dragged his eyes back from the front of Locke’s and forced himself to smile while he pushed the conversation closer to where he wanted it. “Kids seem to take the brunt of most everything these days. Seems like every time I pick up the newspaper some child or teenager’s been hurt in some way—”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Janice tied an apron around her ample middle and worked her way behind the cluttered front counter.
Fred picked up an issue of Field and Stream and thumbed idly through it. “And it’s not just in the cities. Cutler isn’t as quiet and safe as it used to be.”
“Now that’s for sure. It’s getting so a body hardly feels safe in their own home anymore.”
“There are a lot of angry people out there, and a lot of hurt kids.”
“Yes, there are. I hate to say this, Fred, but just look at your own example—that poor child of Doug’s.”
Fred’s breath caught and he wondered just how much she knew. “The divorce has been hard on Alison. But I’d imagine there are other kids in Cutler who’ve been through rough times.”
Janice nodded sadly, then snagged up a rag and flicked dust off the paperback display on the countertop. “There surely are.”
“It must be heartbreaking to see some of the things they go through.” Fred struggled not to sound more than mildly interested.
“Heartbreaking,” Janice agreed. “And we’re in a position to see so
much of what goes on.”
Fred waited for her to expound a little, but she just sighed heavily and worked her dust rag over the magazine rack. She’d picked a devil of a time to start keeping her mouth shut. He closed the magazine he’d been looking at and replaced it. “Does it seem to you that girls have more trouble than boys?”
Janice looked thoughtful. “No-o-o, not necessarily.”
“It seems like my granddaughters have a more difficult time adjusting to things than the boys do—”
“That’s an awfully sexist thing to say, Fred. Honestly—” Janice looked outraged.
“Maybe it’s the hormones,” he suggested, struggling not to smile at the look on her face.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you. Hormones, indeed.” Janice turned away from him. “No matter what you men like to believe, you have hormones, too. And they’re what cause you most of your trouble.”
Fred picked up an issue of Outdoor Life. “Well, it just seems to me that young girls have trouble, that’s all.”
Janice looked back over her shoulder. “What’s gotten into you, Fred? Just listen to you—” She broke off and snapped her mouth shut when the front door opened, but the look she sent him spoke volumes.
Fred looked up at Bill Lacey and nodded a greeting.
“Afternoon, Fred.” Bill pulled off his cap and jacket and slipped into the white smock he always wore at work.
“Fred was just talking about the murder.” Janice certainly had a talent for bringing newcomers up to speed. “Bill was practically there when it happened, weren’t you Bill?”
Bill concentrated on the buttons of his smock. “I was at the Copper Penny, Janice. That’s a little different.”
“If he’d stepped outside half an hour sooner, he would have seen the murderer. He might even have been killed.”
Bill looked up at Fred with an expression of well-worn patience mixed with exasperation. “I left about twelve-thirty.”
“You were in the Copper Penny the night of the murder?”
Janice nodded. “He could have been killed. Like I said, half an hour sooner—”
Fred tried to tune out the sound of her voice. “Why were you there?” He’d never known Bill to be a drinker, though heaven only knew he had enough provocation.