Josie couldn’t believe her luck. What were the odds that Lyndon would have a Collingswood yearbook in his stash of old books, and that it would be from the exact year that she needed?
It was a big, fat coincidence.
That’s all it could be. Or was it?
She read on in the list of names. Two entries from the end, the coincidence was explained.
Suddenly, everything she thought she had figured out about Bea Ryder’s disappearance and death spun on its axis.
Josie looked at the photo again. She could see the resemblance, just barely. Her eyes returned to the list of names.
Lyndon “Beelzebub” Bailey.
Chapter 31
Josie’s thoughts reeled. She snapped a couple of pictures of the photo with her phone, then buried the yearbook deep under the other books in the box where she’d found it.
She needed to get out of here, and she needed to talk to Sharla, like now.
Lyndon’s death had to be connected to the Bea Ryder murder. By all reports, Lyndon had wanted to move back to his childhood hometown. That seemed reasonable enough.
But then, at more or less the same time, Bea Ryder’s house was undergoing renovations to turn it into a brewery. Two new businesses in Dorset Falls was big news, at least in this town. Josie kept going back to the idea that Bea had to be buried on her own property, and that Rick Steuben was afraid that, at the very least, the publicity surrounding the opening of the brewery would stir up memories of the murder. And at the worst, the construction would result in Bea’s body being found.
Josie opened the door, stepped out, and locked it behind her. Kai and Taylor were outside, as she’d expected them to be. “Find what you were looking for?” Taylor said.
Josie ignored them and kept walking. Let them film her backside, for all she cared. Well, she might care a little. But that meant nothing now.
When she got back to her shop, Evelyn and Helen looked at her expectantly. Josie must have looked as rattled as she felt, because both women rushed over to her, each taking an arm, and sat her down on the couch.
“Josie!” Evelyn said. “Where’ve you been? What’s going on? It was more than five minutes, you know.”
“Evelyn,” Josie said when she’d recovered a bit. “I need to find Sharla right now. Do you know where she is?”
“She didn’t answer my text,” Evelyn said. “But I saw her cruiser go down Main Street toward the general store just a few minutes ago.”
Josie had been so absorbed in the yearbook, she hadn’t even noticed. “Hold down the fort for me, will you?” She stood up, intending to go to the g.s. and find Sharla, even if it meant she’d have to walk past Taylor and Kai again.
Evelyn stood and put a firm hand on Josie’s arm. “We will not.”
Huh? Evelyn had never refused to do something Josie had asked. “Evelyn, it’s important. Please.”
Helen spoke up. “Obviously it’s important. Which is why we’re not letting you do it alone. Now come on. We’ll close up, and we’ll all go find Sharla together.”
Josie looked from one to the other. Helen and Evelyn’s minds were made up, and they were certainly capable of making their own decisions. And she supposed if they were going to accompany her, she should fill them in. She grabbed the lace off the counter and shoved it back into her pocket, then told her friends what she knew. Or thought she knew.
Helen looked stricken. Evelyn’s mouth hung open. It took some doing to ruffle her, but Josie had done it.
“Let’s think about this for a minute before we go,” Evelyn said when she recovered. “Let’s put this story together for Sharla. Lyndon, Rick Steuben, and Dougie Brewster all played football together. From the message in the lace, we know that Rick’s father, Mayor Steuben, had been threatening Bea because she’d seen bruises on his wife’s body.”
“Right,” Josie said. “And there was some kind of agreement between Rick and Dougie. Dougie was taunting him about it the night of the party.”
“The agreement was almost certainly about Bea Ryder, a pact to keep quiet about the fact that Richard Steuben had murdered her,” Helen added. “Perhaps Rick told Dougie. One of them, or both, may have told other members of the team.”
“Lorna told me there were originally supposed to be twelve men at the party, but then Dougie told her one couldn’t make it so there’d only be eleven. Lyndon Bailey had to have been the twelfth man. But he was killed before the party.” Josie’s brain was furiously trying to fit all the pieces together.
Evelyn looked thoughtful. “But why did Rick Steuben kill Lyndon after all these years? Why now?”
“The only thing I can think of,” Josie said, “is that Lyndon was about to break the agreement. Maybe his conscience was getting to him. Maybe he wanted to make a clean breast of it before he moved back to Dorset Falls.”
“And Rick had to stop him,” Helen finished. “But why? Old Richard Steuben has been dead for years. He’s beyond prosecution, so what difference would it make now?”
Josie had been wondering the same thing. “What if Rick Steuben was involved with Bea’s murder somehow? His father might be beyond prosecution, but Rick Steuben is not.”
The three women exchanged looks. “Come on, then,” Evelyn said. “Let’s go find Sharla.”
* * *
Kai and Taylor were gone when Josie, Evelyn, and Helen made their way toward the general store. Something was definitely going on there. Two cruisers, light bars flashing, were parked near the front doors.
Margo Gray stood about ten feet from the cruisers. The women congregated around her. “What’s going on?” Josie asked.
“Oh, hey, Josie. Evelyn, Helen,” Margo tipped her head toward each woman in turn in greeting. “I came here to buy milk and eggs, and I’m debating whether to go in or not. Dougie’s having an argument with someone, and somebody called the police.”
Lorna. Was she all right? “Are they actually keeping people out?” Josie asked.
“I don’t think so,” Margo said. “I’ve seen people go in and out. More going in, honestly, probably to see what’s happening.”
“I’m going to check on Lorna,” Josie said. “You can come with me or stay outside if you feel safer, girls.”
Evelyn huffed. “Nonsense. If it’s safe enough for you, it’s safe enough for us. Come on, Helen. Let’s lead the way.” They started off across the parking lot. Josie had to hustle to keep up with the pace Evelyn set.
The store was full of people when they entered. Sharla stood near the food counter talking to Dougie. His face was beet red, and he looked as though he were about to have a stroke. Officer Denton was conversing with Rick Steuben, who was in about the same state as Dougie. Murderer. Lorna had been right. These guys were probably hypertensive.
And where was Lorna? She wasn’t behind the counter. Josie scanned the room and found her sitting at one of the tables. Josie sat down and joined her.
“Hey, Josie. Come to see all the excitement?” Lorna seemed okay. Tired, maybe. Which wasn’t surprising since she’d been running this place singlehandedly while Dougie’s friends were in town.
“I came to see if you were okay. I know Dougie’s been tough on you lately.” Josie reached out and put her hand on Lorna’s arm. Lorna smiled gratefully.
“I am. Dougie’s problem today is with Rick, not me. Or I should say, Rick’s got a problem with Dougie. Rick came in here this morning guns ablazing. They’d been at it for at least an hour when Rick shoved Dougie in the chest. Rusty Simmons was in here, and he called the police so I wouldn’t have to.”
Josie’s knowledge was burning a hole in her brain. She needed to unburden herself to Sharla and soon. She might be preventing another murder. Rick had killed Lyndon to keep him quiet. Who was to say he wouldn’t work his way through his entire Collingswood football team? Starting with Dougie.
But Sharla was busy, and might be for a while. Who knew how long the talk-down would take? There was nothing for it but to wait. She wanted Sharla to get the cred
it for what Josie had found.
Knowing what she knew, should Josie try to get people out of there? What if Rick was armed? But Officer Denton seemed to have him well under control, and Sharla had Dougie calmed down as well.
Josie scanned the room. She should have known. Standing over by what was left of the Charity Knitters table were Kai and Taylor. Kai made no secret of the fact that he was filming. Taylor stood there, looking beautiful. Periodically Kai turned the camera on her. Josie couldn’t hear what she was saying, which was probably just as well. Josie would only get angry instead of just repulsed.
Denton glanced toward Kai and Taylor. “Shut off the camera,” he said.
“Free country,” Kai called.
Josie turned to Lorna. “Did you hear what they were fighting about?”
“Not really. They were inside the office most of the time, so their voices were muffled. It was only when we heard furniture falling over that we called the police. When Sharla opened the office door, with Officer Denton as backup, all I heard was a lot of unimaginative swearing.”
At that moment, a faint whirring noise sounded from somewhere in the vicinity of the front door. The whirring got closer, and the crowd parted to make a path for Alden Brewster. He wheeled himself up to the counter and actually banged on the flat surface with his fist.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Chapter 32
Every head, including those of Sharla and Officer Denton, turned toward the octogenarian. The two cops quickly returned their attention to their charges.
“Well?” Alden demanded. “This is my store, and that’s my son. Somebody answer me.”
Sharla took the lead. “Mr. Brewster, there’s been an altercation between your son and Mr. Steuben. The situation is under control. So if you’d just step—er, move back, someone will talk to you shortly.”
Alden pressed the joystick on the arm of his chair forward and maneuvered toward the flip-up opening in the counter. “No one tells me what to do or not to do in my own store. If no laws have been broken here, you can both leave. Now, officers.”
Sharla’s face hardened. “Mr. Brewster. Officer Denton or I will let you know when we’re finished. So you can move back on your own, or I’ll have you forcibly removed from the premises.” Go, Sharla.
Alden whipped out a cell phone. “I’m calling my lawyer, young lady. You’re going to regret the day you set foot in the police academy.” He punched in some numbers.
“Wait, Dad.” Dougie stood up to his full height. I saw Sharla’s hand go to the butt of her service revolver, where it rested, presumably ready for whatever was about to transpire. “It’s time. I can’t live this lie anymore.”
The room was silent, waiting for whatever Dougie was about to confess.
“Shut up!” Rick Steuben lunged for Dougie. Officer Denton was much closer to his own football days than Rick was to his, and he wrapped Rick in a bear hug from the front. Sharla whipped the cuffs from her belt, yanked Rick’s wrists around to his back, and snapped the cuffs on. Officer Denton forced Rick down into a chair, secured him to it, and pulled out his radio, calling for backup.
Dougie stared at Rick. He lifted his hand and pointed. “That man is a murderer.”
A murmur went up from the crowd. “Shut the hell up!” Rick said. Restrained as he was, words were all he had.
Sharla pulled out a notebook and pen. “Suppose you tell us what you mean by that, Mr. Brewster.”
Alden stared at his son with something like admiration. Based on what Josie had seen of their relationship, she was willing to bet there had not been too many times Alden had been proud of Dougie.
Dougie cleared his throat. “Not only is he a murderer, so was his father.” Another gasp from the crowd.
“Explain, Mr. Brewster,” Sharla said.
“Douglas,” Alden said. “Don’t say anything that will incriminate yourself.”
Dougie looked at his father. “Dad. I’ve been living with this since I was a teenager. I’m done. If there are consequences, I’m ready to take them.”
“Mr. Brewster,” Sharla said, “you may wish to wait until your attorney is present.”
“Thanks,” he said. “But I’m ready to talk now, in front of all these people.”
Alden’s face was stony, impossible to read. He gave an almost imperceptible nod to his son. Dougie continued.
“Rick Steuben and I went to Collingswood and played football there together.”
“Go Cougars,” someone said, not too loud, but loud enough that a few people heard and chuckled. Nothing about this was a laughing matter, but it did serve to break the tension somewhat. The tension ratcheted up again almost immediately.
“We also played with Lyndon Bailey, the fastest runner I ever saw, God rest his soul. That man”—Dougie pointed at Rick—“killed Lyndon in his own shop.”
Rick made an attempt to stand, but couldn’t. He must have known the attempt was futile, because he didn’t resist when Officer Denton put a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back down.
“His boyhood friend. Killed him. And all because Lyndon was about to tell the truth about what happened when we were teenagers. Lyndon can’t speak for himself anymore. But I can, by God.” Dougie paused, took a deep breath, and went on.
“Richard Steuben, the mayor of this town for years, Rick’s father, killed Beatrice Ryder.”
If Dougie’s previous statements had raised gasps from the crowd, this latest one caused a positive tornado. Josie glanced around. Many of the younger people in the room looked confused, probably because they didn’t know the story of the old murder. Evelyn sat stoic. Helen sniffled, pulled a tissue from her purse, and dabbed at her eyes. Evelyn patted her arm.
Lorna’s jaw dropped open. “Is this for real? I’ve wondered about that poor woman for years. My grandmother used to tell me about her.” She eyed Josie. “You knew, didn’t you? I can tell by the look on your face.”
“I just figured it all out, I swear, or I would have told you. I was on my way here to find Sharla to tell her everything.”
“Rick knew,” Dougie said, “that his father had killed Miss Ryder, who was about to go to the authorities. Rick’s father, Mayor Steuben, beat his wife. And Miss Ryder knew.”
Rick Steuben hung his head, all the fight gone out of him.
Sharla continued to make notes. She was going to have one heck of a report to write later. “So what are you saying, Mr. Brewster?” she said. “What’s your part in all this?”
Dougie hung his own head, then raised it to look at the crowd. “Rick told us—me and Lyndon—that he knew his father had done it. How Rick had seen bruises on his mother, even though she tried to cover them up. How he’d heard his parents arguing about Bea Ryder and how to keep her quiet. And none of us ever went to the police. We covered it up, all these years.”
Sharla exchanged glances with Denton. “How old were you when you were told about the murder?” she said, her voice kind.
“Seventeen,” Dougie said. “And I’ve regretted not telling the authorities every day of my life since.”
“Mr. Brewster,” Sharla said. “I’m no lawyer. But if all you knew was what another kid told you, and you had nothing to do with the commission of the crime itself, you had no legal obligation to report anything to the authorities.” She nodded toward Rick Steuben. “And unless he helped his father somehow, neither did he.”
The enormity of what Sharla had just said hit Rick hard. His face went white, probably with the realization that he had killed Lyndon for no real reason. Even if Lyndon had gone to the police, it sounded as though there would have been no possible charges against Rick.
Dougie looked stunned, the weight of decades of guilt suddenly lifted from his shoulders. But then his face hardened. “Maybe not a legal obligation. But a moral one.”
Josie didn’t know about that. If Dougie had no real evidence, only what Rick had told him, was he morally obligated to pass on what he’d been told? The point was
moot now. It was all out in the open.
“You have the right to remain silent . . .” Officer Denton read Rick Steuben his rights, then released him from the chair and helped him to a standing position. Sharla stood on the other side of Rick, and they escorted him out the door to one of the two waiting cruisers.
Josie stole a glance at Kai and Taylor. She had a feeling Rick Steuben wasn’t going to fight the murder charge very hard. He’d looked defeated. Broken. And that meant that Harry would be released as soon as his lawyer could get the charges dropped. What that meant for Kai and Taylor’s show was anyone’s guess.
Dougie came out from behind the counter and stood in front of his father. “Son,” Alden Brewster said. “I’m proud of you.”
Chapter 33
Josie reached into her pocket and felt Bea’s knitted lace. It was still damp from its soaking this morning, but Josie didn’t mind. Well, Bea. I did my best for you. But Dougie Brewster beat me to the punch.
Now neither Sharla nor Josie would get the credit for solving Bea’s murder, or Lyndon’s. But justice had been done, and that was all that mattered.
“Lorna!” Dougie’s voice boomed out, all traces of the humility he’d just shown gone. “Back behind the counter. We’re losing money.”
Lorna cut her eyes to Josie. “Duty calls. I’ll catch up with you later. I want to hear all about how you figured everything out.” She went to work.
Sharla came back inside and headed straight for the counter. “Mr. Brewster? Dougie? We’ll need you to come down to the station and give a statement.”
Dougie nodded. “I probably won’t press charges against Rick, even though he hit me. He’s got bigger problems now.”
Josie approached Sharla. “I know it’s a little late to be giving you this. If I’d figured it out sooner, I would have.” She handed Sharla the scrap of lace. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but Bea Ryder knitted the name of her killer into this doily. In Morse code.”
Sharla looked at the lace. “I can’t wait to hear how you managed to figure this out,” she said, grinning.
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