Relentless (Elisabeth Reinhardt Book 1)

by Nancy Alexander

  CHAPTER 35

  POLICEWORK

  The FBI’s Marie Del Monte and officer Robert Fisk of the Hurricane Police Department pulled into the driveway of Honey’s Fine Home Care in Elkins, West Virginia and walked up to the door. It was a homey place with a huge WELCOME mat; empty hanging flower baskets and wind chimes echoed the greeting. Even with snow coating every surface, it was plain that in the spring Honey’s Fine Home Care was colorful and inviting. Dinner preparation was underway and mixed aromas surrounded them as they entered the clean polished entryway. They were greeted by Honey herself who offered them tea and fresh baked coffee cake while they talked in the kitchen.

  “We have 13 elder folk living with us now,” she said proudly, as she sliced generous portions onto delicate china plates decorated with red roses. “The ladies are in the living room now if you want to talk to them. Well, truth to tell, some of our ladies, we only take ladies here, don’t talk so much anymore if you know what I mean, but I’m sure they’d love to visit with you.”

  She smiled a warm wrinkled smile, settled her hands together on the table she asked, “Now how can I help you young people today?”

  Marie took the lead and explained about the killings and their search for ‘The Parkland Killers’.

  “Oh dear,” Honey exclaimed, “That’s just horrid! You don’t think we’re in danger here do you? You don’t think they’d try to hurt any of our dear elder folks, do you?”

  “No, Ma’am,” Marie hastened to reassure her, “we think he may have encountered one of your visitors around this area, Ma’am, that’s all. Do you remember a young Pakastani woman named …”

  But Honey interrupted her mid-sentence, “Pakastani? You must mean Rushi. Of course I remember Rushi, she was a regular here, sweetest girl in the whole world, she was. Wore one of those pretty long dresses wrapped around her the way they do. She came by every Wednesday to see old Mrs. Tuttle and bring her chocolate chip cookies. Used to live next door to her she did. Said Mrs. Tuttle was so kind to her when she first got here, a little girl of oh maybe 9 or so I think she said. Mrs. Tuttle took her under her wing, she did. Used to make cookies for the little girl to take to school and took her shopping, taught her things about this country, you know. Poor little girl from another country didn’t hardly know what to make of the U.S. of A. It’s horrible what happened to that girl, just horrible. Came all the way over here to this country for a better life and look what happens to her.”

  Honey shook her head sadly and sniffed a bit. “A real tragedy. Good thing Mrs. Tuttle is the way she is though, she doesn’t realize that Rushi hasn’t been around lately. Yes,” she nodded, “small blessings in a cruel world. That’s what I say. Small blessings…”

  “Do you remember seeing any strangers around the time Rushi disappeared?” Marie asked, “They would have been late thirties, maybe dressed like woodsmen, possibly three of them?”

  “No, can’t say as I did,” Honey replied thoughtfully. They talked on for another 15 minutes, but Honey didn’t seem to have anything else to say about Rushi. She led them in to see Mrs. Tuttle, saying they would be in luck if she remembered anything at all. Mrs. Tuttle was a spry older woman, who appeared to be as healthy as can be save for her dementia. She greeted the police like they were old friends, with a big hug and a how-do-you-do. Taking on the role of tour guide she insisted on showing them around pointing out every item of interest along the way.

  “This here is the TV room, and this is where we eat our meals, Honey is a great cook, you know; she made vegetable soup today and those little sandwiches cut in triangles, and this little room back here, why this is my room.” She led them into a cozy bedroom, decorated with lots of blue frills. On the bed was a big pink teddy bear and on the side table a box filled with cards. Mrs. Tuttle sat down on the bed and picked up the box.

  “This here is from my niece, Julia,” she said handing over a card, but Marie was more interested in the box.

  “What a pretty box,” she said, “may I see it, please?”

  “Of course, my dear,” said Mrs. Tuttle and she handed the bakery box filled with cards to Marie. It held the faint scent of chocolate chip cookies.

  “It’s from Butter’s Bakery, do you know where that is?” Marie asked Mrs. Tuttle.

  “Why sure enough dear, it’s over in Ireland,” Mrs. Tuttle answered. “That’s where my kin folks are from you know. Ireland. My Mom will tell you how to get there, dear. She’s just gone off to look for her pocketbook. She should be back soon.”

  “Do you shop at this bakery?” Marie asked her pointing to the box.

  “Oh no dear, but my little Rushi, she shops there all the time. She comes every week to see me you see. She’s my little neighbor. She used to live in Arabia, I think, someplace where the women wear long dresses. Very pretty is my Rushi. Long black hair, she has. You can meet her yourself, she should come soon with my cookies, she comes every week to see me, you know. She’s like my own little girl, she is. Her father is a King, you know. King Kamony I think they call him. Lived someplace like the Holy Land, you know,” Mrs. Tuttle said fluttering her hand vaguely in the direction of the Holy Land as she picked up the pink bear from the bed and cuddled it. Honey met them as they were leaving.

  “Did you young people get what you needed?” she asked with a smile. “Isn’t Mrs. Tuttle a dear?”

  “Absolutely,” Marie agreed she was a dear and asked Honey for directions to Butter’s Bakery. “I’m in the mood for a chocolate chip cookie, Robert, how about you?”

  Butter’s was a small shop along Main Street in Elkins. It was decorated to look like a gingerbread house. Inviting scents wafted from the narrow doorway. Tiny bells jingled as they entered and a smiling overweight woman, who looked a bit like Mrs. Claus, waved to them from behind a counter displaying the most delightful desserts. “How can I help you folks,” the woman asked, offering them samples of cookie pieces from a small bowl.

  “Wow, how about one of everything,” Robert laughed, showing rare humor.

  “We’re from the police department, Ma’am,” Marie said and explained why they were there.

  “Rushi,” the woman asked, “of course I knew Rushi. She was one of my favorite people. Sweet and kind... World lost a great one the day we lost her. I’m May Butter by the way,” she smiled offering the cookie bowl again, “and yes that’s really my name. And as to Rushi, she came in every week to buy cookies for old lady Tuttle up there at Honey’s place.”

  “Do you remember the last time you saw her,” Marie asked, “it would have been sometime back in December I think.”

  “Sure do,” May Butter answered, “remember it well. Last time I ever saw that girl. We were out of chocolate chip cookies; those are the kind she likes to buy Mrs. Tuttle so Rushi ran over to the little market on the corner to get me some chocolate chips so I could whip her up a batch. When she got back she was real upset. Said she had quite a time over there, seems there’s some guy in the store who was rude to her or some such. I didn’t get the whole story, but Rushi was plenty upset about it, I do remember that. Who’d have thought that’d be the last time I saw her.”

  May Butter shook her head sadly, “guess you never know when the Lord’s gonna call your name, do you?”

  Marie and Robert shook their heads ‘no they agreed, you never knew.’ After getting directions to the market they left carrying 2 cakes and 3 dozen assorted cookies. “Well, the Task Force has to eat,” Robert said, as they got in their unmarked and drove down the street.

  Kowalski’s Market was a traditional ‘Ma and Pa’ grocery. Fronted by crowded windows displaying signs and food stuffs, it had wooden floors and 6 aisles of canned and packaged goods with a section for produce, dairy and meats. The air smelled like sawdust and salami. Mr. Kowalski was in the back unpacking boxes and Mrs. Kowalski sat on a small stool at the register. Two customers pushed carts up and down the aisles. At the front of the store they introduced themselves to Mrs. Kowalski and asked if there was someplac
e they could talk in private. Reaching for her cane she hollered “Wiktor” and told her son to cover the register for her. Walking to the back of the store, she gestured ‘come here’ to her husband and the four of them entered a small office with old grocery ads plastered on the walls. After introductions and handshakes the four of them sat around the cluttered desk and Marie explained the reason for their visit. Mr. Kowalski seemed relieved that were was ‘no problem’ with the police and once he understood that the police wanted his help with Rushi’s murder, both he and his wife were immediately helpful.

  Yes, they remembered that day, the last time they had seen poor Rushi. They had loved her. She was so sweet. They went to her funeral. In fact, the whole town went. Everyone loved her. She was the sweetest person they’d ever met. Yes, indeed, they remembered that horrible thing that happened in their store. They were so scared. Mr. Kowalski remembered that, “This crazy looking, dirty guy had deliberately bumped into her with his cart, he was buying a lot of lunch stuff, and called her a ‘raghead’ and told her she was a, well it was a very bad word, and should get the, excuse me it was another bad word, out of his country. Rushi had told him she was a US citizen and not a ‘raghead’. He said something like, ‘you’re a raghead, you …. Excuse me it was another bad word. But, she stood up to him and said this was a free country and she was a citizen here and she didn’t need to be treated this way.”

  “And then,” Mrs. Kowalski jumped in, “he got really close to her face with a really mean smile, like the way an angry dog might make its mouth, and said ‘Later’… and another bad word.” We hurried up and put his food in bags and told him to just take the food and go. Go, we said, it’s free. Just take it and go. And he did, but first he turned back to Rushi, pointed his finger at her and gave her another one of those mean looks. He was horrible looking with a big scar all the way down his face.”

  “Only on one side,” Mr. Kowalski corrected her.

  “And then what happened?” Marie interrupted.

  “Then he left. We told Rushi to stay in the store with us for a while so that she wouldn’t see him on the street. Then we had ‘Wictor’, he’s our son, walk her to her car. ‘Wictor’ is young, but he’s strong. We thought that she would be safe with him.” Marie asked the Kowalski’s if they would meet with a police sketch artist to try and show them what the man looked like. They eagerly agreed. Marie then talked with Victor, who confirmed his parents’ story about the incident. He, too, agreed to help make a police sketch. They made arrangements for the sketch artist to meet the family at the Elkins Police Department. They thought these would probably match the sketches from the Day’s Inn and Golden Corral witnesses.

  Before going back to Hurricane, they split up and canvassed all the shops in the area to see if anyone else had any information that could help them. Nothing else had come up. It was pitch dark when they plowed through the deepening snow on their way out of Elkins. “We got some good leads today,” Robert said, munching on a cookie, “Now we know where they met their last victim and why she doesn’t fit the profile. She pissed him off and he grabbed her. That was an anger kill not like the others.”

  “Yes,” Marie agreed, “the big unanswered question here is what were ‘The Parkland Killers’ doing up in this area to begin with. Were they on the trail of that “R” girl? Or was there some other connection that they had with this area? They had some kind of reason for being in the area.”

  Their unmarked was bumping along through snowy roads with only their headlights to guide them when they got the call.

  CHAPTER 36

  CROSSROADS

  The last stop on their pie delivery route was Gus’s Diner. They lurched through snow piles into the parking lot hoping that he would take the whole batch of pies and they could go home. They needed time to think and clear their heads. They decided to go to Betty Jo’s house because her husband worked night shift this month and they would have more privacy to talk. Patty Sue’s husband liked to watch the sports channel in the evening so he would order in a pizza and have a night to himself. Patty Sue called out a cheery, ”Hello” to Gus and Star as she stomped snow off her boots and announced that she had brought some freshly baked Raines Farm apple pies.

  “What kinds you got?” Gus asked.

  “We have 3 old fashioned apple, 3 Dutch apple, 4 cranberry apple and two caramel apple,” Patty Sue said.

  “If I can freeze ‘em I’ll take ‘em all,” Gus said amiably.

  “Sure, you can freeze ‘em, Gus,” Patty Sue said, “just let them defrost for 6 hours and set the oven at about 220 degrees and let ‘em re-heat for about 30 minutes.”

  “Everyone just loves your pies,” Gus continued, “bring ‘em all in.”

  “How much they go for?” Gus asked getting out his checking book.

  “$9 a pie,” Patty Sue said as she walked out the door and trudged through the snow to Betty Jo’s car. “The kids want to go in for hot chocolate and cookies,” her sister said, “you okay with that?” “Sure,” Patty Sue said helping the kids pile out of the car, zipping jackets and pulling on hats. Betty Jo started unloading the pies and after a few trips across the parking lot, the Raines daughters delivered the pies to Gus and settled down at a table with their children.

  Gus brought the check over and talked a bit with the children about the snow and the cookies. “I’m real glad your mommies brought in all those pies,” he said to the children.

  “My mommy said we can have 2 pies at my house,” said Missy, Patty Sue’s daughter just turning 5.

  “My mommy said I could have one, too,” said Betty Jo’s son Todd, barely 4. Her baby Ruthie said nothing. She was intent on stuffing all the cookie pieces in her mouth at one time.

  “Well,” said Patty Sue, sipping her tea “I sure hope your customers like them. You let us know if you need more. We can bake any kind of cake or pie.”

  “I know you can,” Gus said, “you are the best bakers in the town, everyone says so. As far back as I can remember, the Raines Farm pies and cakes were the best around. And they’ve been going like hotcakes,” he added, “business been booming over here what with that murder investigation going on and all those out of town cops around. Even the FBI sent people down here. They got to eat somewhere and I’m practically right next door to the Police Station. It’s a really big thing this here killing spree. These dumb bastards done about ruined the whole town.”

  He held a hand over his mouth and whispered, “Kidnapping, and raping and killing girls. Hell, they pick teenage girls who look a lot like you girls did when you were teenagers, pretty little blondes.” The daughters sat silent staring at Gus and over his shoulder at the two men deep in conversation at the corner table. They had papers and pictures strewn all over the place getting ready for the media briefing in a few hours.

  Patty Sue and Betty Jo were frozen. They were hearing about these murders just at a time when they were thinking Jake and his friends might have hurt Reggie Lee. Just at a time when they were thinking she might be dead…a victim like these other girls? If they reported this to the police what would happen? What would happen to their mother? How would their dad react? Would he hit their mother? He had a pretty bad temper. Would he forbid them to come home and visit ever again? And what would happen if Jake found out they told the police? Would he kill them and their families? Suddenly, knowing the right thing to do did not seem as simple as doing it. While their children laughed and played, drank their hot chocolate and ate their cookies, the sisters stared at one another, sipped tea and grew increasingly anxious. It seemed doing the right thing could have dire consequences. It was easier to say what was done is done and the past is the past and, yes, mistakes were made, but it’s too late to do anything about it now.

  As they sat there a loud conversation broke out across the room. Backs to the table, they didn’t dare turn around to see who was talking, but soon it was revealed as Chester said into his cellphone, “I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit on my hands and wait
for the damn snow to melt to find them. We’re going to pursue every lead we have snow or no snow. No none of that stuff was in that Plymouth…. Her parents said she always wore that gold hand. It wasn’t with the body and it wasn’t in the car. They must have a stash somewhere or they’ve got someone holding that stuff for them. It’s too risky for him to carry that stuff around with him.”

  The sisters nearly stopped breathing. They felt like cornered cats with their ears pinned back, ready to run. The impact of those words jettisoned through their bodies. Wordlessly, the truth flashed between them like an electric charge. They knew it with a certainty they’d never known before. “… There wasn’t time for them to go far with that stuff.…” Chester was saying. The sisters were frozen. This was happening too fast to process. They had to get out of here and go home and think. They needed to decide what to do. This was the kind of decision which once made could never be reversed. This was life changing. They needed to think and talk. Should they talk to their husbands? Well that was another decision, could they do this without letting their husbands know? They stared at one another wordlessly.

  Over the din in the busy diner, they heard Gus yell over to the police at the large table against the wall. “Hey Chester, you guys are in luck! The best, freshest pies in the county were just delivered. Say ‘hi’ to our lovely little bakers, the Raines sisters,” Gus said with a flourish.

  Then Lou and Chester nodded and smiled a polite thank you as fresh slices were carried over and presented to them. They glanced at the pie, but their eyes rose to encompass the two women. They registered several things simultaneously. The women had taken off their jackets, hats and scarves so Lou and Chester now saw they were athletically built with long blonde hair and blue eyes. They were older than the profile, but these two women could have been its prototype. And that name, Raines, hadn’t they run across it just this morning in a delinquent’s profile? The women looked terrified as they began to gather up their children preparing to leave.