Stone Haven

by Holly Fox Vellekoop

  Lana thought about her friends and hurried to finish getting ready. Bunky followed her around the bedroom while his owner dressed, hoping something, anything, would fall to the floor so he could grab it and run. That was his favorite game. Napkins, teabags, socksanything that made its way to his level was fair game. He had it in his tiny jaws before the owner even knew it had fallen. He would walk slowly up to the person, show them his treasure, and then run all over the house hoping to be chased. It was impossible to catch him. He would sprint with the item, under the furniture, dodging his pursuer, and generally having a great time. If the chaser wore out and stopped playing, he would come back to within a foot or two of them and dare to be chased again. Many times, the stolen item would end up hidden from view under the couch or a chair. He was disappointed today because nothing was dropped.

  This morning, Lana was feeling a little better despite not getting a full night's rest. Throughout her slumber, she kept awakening at intervals when nocturnal house noises invaded her sleep, causing her to look fearfully about the bedroom for God knows what. At 3 A.M., she actually got out of bed and made a sweep of the house, starting in the cellar, due to a creaking noise she could not identify. From the dining room window, she had peered out at the carriage house and saw movement in the shadows. Get hold of yourself, she'd thought. It's only your imagination. Just to make sure, she turned all the lights out and watched again for a few minutes. Nothing. Light from the gas station across the street lit up the fronts of the white barn and shed at the edge of her property. All looked okay. Visions of Rose's murdered body and the bloodied kitchen further impeded her ability to return to sleep. Finally, in desperation, she turned on the small noise machine on her nightstand, which filtered out any further sounds, and fell into a deep sleep to the sound of gently-crashing ocean waves. A sleep which was uninterrupted until the alarm went off at 6 A.M. the next morning.

  Lana had about an hour before her friends were expecting her. She decided to walk across the river bridge to town, something she enjoyed, and do some banking and mail letters.

  Crossing the Susquehanna on the worn-out steel bridge, Lana was glad that the sun was shining and the air was crisp and clear. A gentle wind was blowing small whitecaps, which lapped against the stone bridge supports as she walked briskly. Her mind was focused intently on what she would tell her friends about Rose's death. They would know about it by now and would expect a first-person account from her. How much could she tell them? How much should she tell them? These questions nagged at her. She hated the thought of having to recount the gory details. She was so deep in thought that she didn't hear a vehicle stop and discharge someone who began walking behind her on the concrete walkway. When she stopped to look over the railing at the water below, Lana noticed that, about one span behind her, someone else was looking at the river, also. It appeared to be a small man dressed in dark clothing. Although she couldn't see his face, which was turned away from her, she felt as though the person was someone familiar.

  Taking her gloved hands from her coat pockets, she resumed her walk. She was cognizant that the man did the same. I must be getting paranoid, she thought. If I keep this up, I'll need a tranquilizer. That experience yesterday has me scared to death. A lot of people walk this bridge, she reasoned. Especially since a new bridge was under construction nearby. Lana turned to view the unfinished concrete span being built about 300 feet downstream. Regardless of her rationalizing the circumstances, she picked up her pace and was alarmed to note that the person behind her did, too.

  She continued across the bridge, sprinting the rest of the way to the post office in the center of town. She was out of breath and her hair windblown to an unrecognizable mess. Hurrying through the entrance, she looked back over her shoulder as if expecting someone to come through the doorway after her.

  The lobby was full as usual on a Saturday morning. Alice Fry, owner of a dry cleaning shop, was waiting in line and yelled a greeting to her as she deposited some letters in the "Danville Only" slot. Lana managed a tight smile and waved in return. She quickly exited through glass doors and down the marble steps to the sidewalk.

  The bank was Lana's last stop before crossing the bridge back to Riverside to get her car. She looked quickly about to see if she was being followed. Seeing no one, she briskly walked the incline up to the bridge, holding on to the cold handrail. She gazed at the length of walkway ahead of her to the other side of the river and, seeing it empty, started her journey across the murky water.

  Walking swiftly, Lana's attention was riveted on her destination at the end of the bridge. Only seven spans, she told herself, and I'll be off this thing. Offering a prayer, her heart pounding, she put three spans behind her. About the middle of the fourth one, Lana peered over her shoulder and was horrified to again see a darkclothed figure about fifty feet behind her. Occasionally glancing backward, her stride a near-run, she almost knocked an approaching grade school bike rider off his blue two wheeler. The little boy scowled at an apologetic Lana, adjusted his wobbly pace and continued on. So did the dark figure. By the time she made it to the end of the bridge, she was out of breath, gasping and leaning over the decline railing. She looked back from where she had come and saw that the bridge was empty. Could I have imagined that? she asked herself. Heart pounding, Lana quickly crossed the railroad tracks and entered the barn to get her car. Driving back across the bridge, she strained to see if the dark-clothed figure was still there. She was relieved to see no one.

  The restaurant owner smiled and waved to Lana as she abruptly made her way to her three friends, who were seated at their favorite window table. Lana waved in return. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Connie said, getting up to hug her closest friend. "Are you all right? And why didn't you call us after the ordeal you've been through? The murder and all. We'd have come over to stay with you"

  "I'm okay," Lana answered uncertainly, holding onto Connie for dear life. "I guess I'm a little spooked after yesterday's events"

  She pulled herself away and removed her green car coat. She sat down with the others and tried to regain her composure. The foursome ordered their coffee and homemade soups. When the waitress left, the three friends looked expectantly at the exhausted Lana for her version of the murder. The gruesome tale of finding Rose's body was recounted, uninterrupted, concluding with her suspicions that she was being watched and followed. Lana leaned back in her chair, looked anxiously into her friend's faces, and waited for some feedback. She needed to hear from them.

  "Oh Lana, that must have been horrible for you," Connie blurted out. "We should be mad at you for not calling us!"

  "I don't know why I didn't," she said softly. "I should have. Now that we're all together, I feel better. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about" She gave a small laugh, which did nothing to ease their minds. Questions were asked and answered between bites of muffins and sips of soup. Lana answered what she could and speculation began on who could have been the murderer.

  "Well, we know it wasn't you who killed Rose," Cindy said. "You've broken a few hearts, but that's about all the harm you could do to someone. Mrs. Stone, on the other hand, now that's another story. She may have been a tireless worker for improving the town, but she made a lot of enemies along the way. Her with her superior, snobby attitude toward the locals, waving her expensive jewelry in everyone's faces" Cindy lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Especially that five-carat ring."

  "Nine," corrected Lana. "Nine-carat. Whoever took that really got a prize. She told me more than once that it was worth more than most people would earn in a lifetime."

  Barbara countered, "Well, maybe it was, but most people in this town didn't like her. She was always trying to strong arm someone into accepting her restoration ideas. And, because of her wealth, she was able to get her way most of the time. I know that some of the Mill Street property owners were not enamored with her plans to restore all of the storefronts to their original facades. It would have cost them plenty and lost revenue, too, i
f Rose would have lived to make the Restoration Committee meeting Friday night. I hear that's when she was going to present the final Mill Street plan, armed with the bids and projected expenses. If she would have been there she would have muscled it through"

  The others nodded their heads in agreement.

  "The committee members wouldn't have wanted to go against her," Barbara continued. "As it happened, they didn't know about her murder and gladly went ahead with their meeting without her. Bobby Snyder was in here earlier and I heard him telling some of his buddies that, without Rose there to protest, the committee voted down the storefront idea. `It's as dead as Rose,' he told them"

  Lana grimaced at such a callous remark.

  Connie added, "Talk about coldhearted. Maybe he didn't get along with her, but he could have been a little more compassionate. He complained that her idea would have wiped him out since he owns half of the buildings on the west side of the street. He was sure Rose couldn't have gotten enough grant money to assist the owners in complying with what would have been mandated"

  The friends all knew Bobby. He had been a troublemaker when he was a small boy. Wild and wily, he was usually behind any mischief that was going on in school or at the local playground. When a BB shot out a street light, the town police knew to go to his house if they wanted the culprit. Of course, that was a long time ago, when there were fewer kids in town and the police knew them all by name.

  As a teenager, Bobby would occasionally skip school and go fishing in the creek or along the river. Twice he was caught stealing from school lockers, and most people were surprised when he managed to graduate. Bobby's father was one of the high school custo dians and his mother worked in the cafeteria. His parents were good people who did what they could to handle their incorrigible son.

  "I remember that after graduation, he went off to Vietnam and then stayed in the army for a while," Cindy said. "While there, he served with Lesley Stone and some of the other locals. I don't know what went on over there, but when they all eventually returned, it was clear that something had turned them against each other. It was probably Bobby's fault," she said judgmentally.

  "Bobby went on to make something of himself and I give him credit for that," Lana argued, defending her old classmate. "He worked hard and saved to buy the buildings that he owns. He's made a regular business out of room and storefront rentals. I can understand his being upset about Rose's plans. He didn't have the kind of money it would have taken to restore them."

  "Leave it to you to defend someone like Bobby Snyder," Cindy said. "I remember how angry you used to get at him when we were kids and he tried to look up our dresses at recess"

  The four friends started to laugh, looking back and forth at each other, until tears were rolling down their faces. Slowly they got control of themselves, and ate and talked while other patrons came and went.

  "Bobby may not be a slumlord," Barbara said, "But he's close to it. He doesn't do much to fix up what he has. Even though he served on the Restoration Committee with Rose, he really hated her trying to force him to improve those properties. He kinda resent ed her wealth, too, but he was right, you know. If Rose wanted it done, she could afford to pay for all of it herself, as rich as she was"

  "Well, he didn't look guilty of anything but getting his own way when I saw him earlier," said Connie. "You guys are too hard on him. He's become a respectable adult and deserves the benefit of the doubt. Hey, I remember when you had a crush on him in third grade and we tried to make the two of you kiss," she said laughingly to Cindy. "You used to run from us, but I know you really wanted to do it."

  With that, the friends convulsed again with laughter while Cindy good-naturedly screwed her face up and stuck her tongue out at them.

  When the laughter died down, Lana said, "I know that Rose was trying to help Bobby with the cost. She wrote proposals and made contacts to bring that about. After seeing the bid sheets, though, it still would have cost property owners a lot if she had had her way. I guess Bobby has some reason to be pleased it fell through."

  It was at that point that Lana realized her companions weren't really paying attention to her anymore. Instead, they were staring over her shoulder at someone who was standing behind her, listening to their conversation. With a start, Lana jerked her head around to see who it was.

  "I'm sorry to have startled you," a smiling Lieutenant Sheski stated. "You look really frightened." He seemed concerned, yet happy to see her.

  "I'm still a little jumpy from yesterday," Lana said carefully. She hoped that she didn't have food on her face and that her hair looked okay. She absently smoothed hair out of her eyes and smiled at him, avoiding eye contact with her friends. She could feel three pairs of questioning orbs staring at her and the detective.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked.

  "Mike and I were in town working and thought we'd come in for lunch. He had to leave a little early so I stayed to enjoy the coffee. Then I saw you"

  Lana's companions were all looking at her with expectant faces, as though an introduction should be the next step. "Oh, excuse me," Lana said, a little embarrassed. "Let me introduce you to my friends, Tommy." At the mention of "Tommy," the three high school chums shared knowing glances back and forth. Introductions were made all around and Lana could see that they were impressed with him.

  It was plain that the lieutenant was a little uncomfortable with all the attention, shifting back and forth from one foot to another and glancing around. Lana excused herself from her table and rescued him by asking if they could have a word in private.

  "Glad to," he said. "Excuse us, please," he said to the others with a smile.

  While her friends stared, both of them stepped to the back of the restaurant, out of earshot of the patrons.

  "I don't know if it's my imagination or not," began Lana, "But I get the feeling that I'm being watched and followed" She slowly recounted her sleep-deprived night and the events on the bridge that morning.

  Sheski listened intently, his handsome face sober. "I can assign someone to keep a watch on you for a while," he said when she was finished. "At least until we find out if there's anything to this. Just to be on the safe side."

  "I don't want a bodyguard staying with me or following me around," she said, a bit annoyed. "Now that I've told you, I feel foolish. I'm sure that it's nothing, just my imagination."

  Lieutenant Sheski wasn't so sure. He tried to protest, but Lana was firm.

  "At least let me stop by later tonight to make sure you're all right," he asked.

  Lana thought a minute and said that would be okay. She even welcomed it. The lieutenant was a really nice guy. She admired his intelligence and the respectful manner he showed to others. Those qualities were important to her. Although looks weren't a prerequisite to getting a date with her, it didn't hurt that he was handsome. She had noticed that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring and remembered someone remarking at the murder scene that he was single.

  "Would you like to come for dinner?" she asked.

  He flushed a little and said, "I'd like that. What time?"

  "How about seven?"

  "That would be great," he said. "Believe it or not, I can make my own meals, but cooking for one gets tiresome sometimes and I don't like eating alone"

  That gave Lana some insight into his availability. She motioned for him to look out the back door window and across the river to the large white home near the bridge.

  "That's mine," she said. "Remember to ring the front doorbell so I can hear you in case I'm in the back of the house," she advised.

  They rejoined her friends and Sheski gave his apologies for having to go. Lana accompanied him to the cashier and watched as he paid his bill and then went to his car. There were three sets of raised eyebrows and grins when she got back to their table.

  "Tommmmmy, is it?" teased Barbara. "Why didn't you tell us about him? He's gorgeous" The three women murmured their approval.

  "There's really nothing to tell,"
Lana said with a half-smile. "He's one of the investigators assigned to the murder, that's all. He's a lieutenant in the state police department" She reached for her coffee and tried to change the topic by remarking on how good the regular diner coffee was.

  "Yeah, right, nothing to tell ," said Connie. "You've been keeping secrets from me" The others rolled their eyes in disbelief and started to laugh.

  "What's Evan going to think?" Barbara interjected. The others stopped and looked at her, not sure where she was going with this remark.

  "Why should it matter?" Connie interjected defensively. "She's not seeing him anymore," her best friend said, turning to face her. "Are you?"

  "Not since May," Lana replied quietly, looking about her to make sure other customers weren't listening. "It just wasn't working out. He's really nice, but I don't love him. I just didn't want to lead him on, that's all"

  Barbara was staring at something in the opposite corner. "Well, I hear he's still carrying a torch for you, my friend," she said mockingly.

  "He still calls once in awhile to talk," Lana offered. "But we're not seeing each other anymore"

  "Well brace yourself, honey," Barbara said stiffly, 44'cuz attorney Evan Haynes is coming this way."

  The four friends turned to where Barbara had been staring and saw the fiftyish, medium height, darkhaired lawyer advancing toward them. He was wearing a suit with a topcoat and kept his eyes on Lana, pausing a couple of times to say hello to others dining nearby. His black monogrammed attache case swung back and forth as he walked ever closer.

  "Hello, Lana," he said, looking her full in the eyes. "Hi guys," he said to the others.