Stone Haven

by Holly Fox Vellekoop

  Lesley was present when Rose told this to them. He had wondered how he could be surrounded by women who wanted to give their money away-first his mother and now his wife.

  When Karen mended her ways, Rose went on, the will would be changed back and her daughter would inherit her mother's estate. The Ashmans knew there would be no further discussion about the issue and did not mention it again. They believed that the Stones could be a headstrong family.

  Gordon and Gladys couldn't imagine being estranged from one's own child, but they knew that the topic was closed. Both of them thought it tragic that Rose went to her death without repairing the relationship. Incomprehensible.

  SATURDAY, 7 P.M.

  Sheski arrived at Lana's home and rang the doorbell at the front door, as she had instructed him earlier. He looked at the circular porch of the Victorian building that went around the right side of the house and thought it charming.

  From inside, the shrill bark of a small dog could be heard. He waited and shortly the front door opened.

  "Hi, Tommy," Lana said.

  Sheski couldn't believe how good she looked. She was wearing makeup and had pulled her hair back from her attractive face, showing off big green eyes. Her trim figure was accentuated in a plain long black formfitting collarless dress, open at the neck. He sputtered a hello and handed her a bunch of flowers that he had purchased earlier.

  Lana invited him in, thanked him for the gift, and took his coat into her small library, where she laid it over a rocking chair. Bunky continued barking in the background until his owner took her guest in to meet him. He was confined to the back part of the house due to his habit of nibbling at her books and the fringe on the oriental carpets. The six-pound dog was dancing back and forth with glee at meeting a new friend.

  He's anything but a watchdog, Sheski thought. The only defense he could offer would be to warn of an intruder. Sheski bent down to pet the dog, who showed obvious signs of enjoying the attention. He genuinely liked dogs and it showed. Lana was relieved to see that. She often made judgments about people based on whether they liked pets or not.

  "All right, you've gotten your share of the attention," Lana said affectionately to her pet while picking the wriggling canine up. "Time for you to slow down." She placed him in the laundry room so she could check on their dinner.

  "How was the rest of your day?" Sheski asked. He looked genuinely concerned.

  "Not so good. My phone wouldn't stop ringing with calls from reporters who wanted to talk to me. I let the answering machine pick them up" She looked wistful. "I don't want to be interviewed. That was a horrible thing that happened, and I don't want to have to keep reliving it."

  "I should have warned you about that. Reporters can be relentless. Don't return their calls until you're ready. If you want, I'll keep you company for moral support if and when you decide you want to talk to them."

  "Thanks for the offer. I may take you up on it. Now, if you want to, take a look around the house while I get back to the kitchen."

  Sheski wandered around the downstairs while his date puttered in the kitchen. Off to the right of the front hallway entrance, there was a large living room with a tiled fireplace. Victorian grass wallpaper with a ceiling border gave the room warmth.

  Crossing the maroon rug, he entered the television room with the back stairway and went on through into the dining room. Wandering about the back of the house, he found Bunky in the laundry room contentedly curled up on a blanket-covered stool. The dog lifted his head sleepily and then rested it on his extended front paws. Sheski then checked out the kitchen again, where Lana was, oven mitts on, transferring food items to serving dishes. He watched her quietly, admiring her attractive face and figure for a half-minute and then retraced his steps to the front door.

  Sheski walked into the library, stopping to inspect book titles on the white floor-to-ceiling shelving. History books lay next to poetry, mystery, and gardening. Eclectic reading tastes, he thought. He then went back into the kitchen, where he saw that Lana was almost ready to serve the meal.

  Sheski noticed that she had decorated the kitchen table with the flowers he had given her. The blooms had been separated and placed in a crystal vase and the table was set with white linens and china.

  He remarked on how nice everything looked, and Lana gave him another big smile and a thank-you. "The china was my grandmother's," she said.

  The meal tasted as good as it looked. Prime rib, baked potatoes with sour cream, and green beans with almonds were topped off with Lana's specialty ... homemade chocolate cake.

  They ate, making small talk and asking personal questions designed to fill in the gaps of information they lacked about each other. Lana learned that her date had a grown son, Thomas Jr.

  Sheski told her about his wife Lois's death ten years ago.

  This must be what Evan was referring to, Lana thought.

  He explained that Lois had had a successful real estate business and they had just celebrated their twentieth anniversary. He paused often, eyes clouded over, telling how he had not taken his weapon when they had gone out that night to a movie.

  "After the film was over, we got up to leave, when, a few rows in front of us, some boys began fighting over a girl. Most of the people had already left, but those who remained turned to see what was going on. It all happened so fast. The argument escalated swiftly and before we could react, shots were fired by one of the young boys. Lois was struck in the temple and died in my arms."

  Sheski paused and Lana touched his hand in an effort to ease his pain. After a minute he continued.

  "One of the teens, Louis, was convicted of murder and sent to a facility for juveniles, where he stayed until his eighteenth birthday. He was a troublemaker while locked up, and was transferred to a state penitentiary, where he remains today. The other teen made a deal, testified against Louis, and was released from the same lockup after serving only eighteen months."

  "For many years I tortured myself with `what if' questions. What if I had pulled her down to the floor when the fight started? What if we had chosen a different movie, a different day to go, a different theater? What if I had taken my gun?" Sheski looked miserable. "Maybe I could have broken it up before it got out of hand."

  Lana's psychiatric nurse training took over and she listened silently as he finished.

  Again, she touched his hand gently and asked thoughtfully about their son.

  Sheski looked up at her, and said with a grin, "Our son Thomas went on to Penn State like his dad. He graduated with a degree in computer-something-or-theother and now operates his own business in Laguna Beach, California. I'm proud of him. He's a nice young man, much like his mother. He's enjoying life in the sun out on the coast. We talk weekly and visit each other twice a year. I fly out there in April, and he flies east in October. That way we both get the best weather California and Pennsylvania have to offer. I enjoy the warm California climate and he gets to see the fall foliage. I miss him, but it works."

  Lana, in turn, told him about her nursing career and the brief engagement she had while in college. Her fiance, a med student, decided about two months before they were to be wed that he had made a mistake by not getting back together with his former girlfriend. Their engagement was broken, he married his ex and, broken-hearted, Lana finished college. After that, despite dating and romances, she had never committed herself again to another.

  More talk ensued between them, interspersed with quiet tunes. For a first date, the few silences that occurred were not uncomfortable. Once or twice each noticed the other studying them and would smile in response.

  When they had finished their meal, Sheski helped Lana clear the table. He did the job skillfully, like a man who was used to it.

  Coffee was ready to be served, so Lana invited her date into the living room.

  Sheski took off his dark sport coat and placed it neatly on one of the chairs. His Glock, which he now always carried with him, was nestled in a holster at the waist of his w
hite shirt, just above his right kidney. He deftly removed his weapon and its holder, placing them on top of his coat.

  Lana glanced at the firearm and back at her date. She hated guns, but understood his need to carry one at all times.

  The couple sat on the burgundy couch facing the gas fireplace insert, which Lana turned on with a remote control. The fake logs glowed like a real fire, only without the smoke and mess. It was mesmerizing to them both.

  After a few minutes, the lieutenant turned toward Lana and pulled her close. He nuzzled her sweet smelling hair and tilted her face up to his. The kiss was gentle at first and then became forceful. When he finally pulled himself away, they were both breathing heavily. Lana had actually swooned from the heady emotions evoked by the kiss, and took a minute to regain her composure.

  It was at that instant that Bunky began to growl, which grew into a full bark. Lana jumped up off the couch, crying, "He never growls like that, and he only barks when someone is around"

  Sheski was swiftly out of his seat right behind her, gun in hand.

  When they got to the laundry room, Bunky was up on the low window seat that Lana had strategically placed so he could see through the curtains into the yard. The small dog was alternately sniffing and viciously barking his head off at something outside. Lana raced to the kitchen, flipped the outside floodlight on and heard Sheski yell, "I think I see someone out there. You stay here" The lieutenant was out the back door before she could respond.

  Lana stepped out onto the brick patio to observe what was happening. She could barely see his form sweeping professionally through the yard and around the outbuildings. She shivered in the night air, straining to listen, but heard nothing. After a few minutes, she could distinguish Sheski's outline as he made his way noiselessly around the side of the house from the front walk. His gun was at his side. A definite skunk odor was in the air.

  "Oh my gosh," Lana cried. "It's a skunk" She quick ly closed the door behind her date and started to laugh. He managed a laugh with her. He smelled the animal, too, but knew that was no skunk that he saw running from behind the carriage house. Starting tonight, this property would be under surveillance ... with or without her approval.

  He wondered why anyone would be watching Lana's house. Was it connected to the murder? What did they think she knew? Or had? Maybe Lana saw or heard something that could identify the killer and didn't know it. After all, she was the first one on the scene. He kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to frighten her with his suspicions. He made a mental note to check in at the office and get someone assigned to this place tonight.

  "I should be going," he said reluctantly. "I have a very early day tomorrow. Thank you again for dinner and our time together. I really enjoyed it. Next time, I'll cook for you."

  "I had a good time too, Tommy. Really. I hope we can do it again."

  "Count on it," he said softly, grinning at her.

  Lana got his coat off the rocker in the library, handed it to her date, and walked with him to the front door.

  "Be sure and keep all the doors locked," he said while putting his coat on.

  Ready to go, Tommy leaned against the front door and gently pulled her close to him in a loving embrace. "And be careful," he said tenderly.

  Lana relaxed against his strong arms and could feel his heart beating through his overcoat. "I will," she replied faintly. They exchanged telephone numbers and he promised to call her the next day. After a long embrace and a good-bye kiss, they parted.

  Minutes later, after a phone call from the lieutenant, a plain-clothes state policemen was on his way to guard Lana.

  IVIONDAY MORNING

  Lieutenants Sheski and James arrived at the Danville area at 7A.M. This was going to be a long day for them. They had several interviews to do. They had been trying to get Jess Walter to come in to talk to them, but he was not answering his phone. If they were unsuccessful today at reaching him, they would go to his home.

  Rose's funeral was to start at 11A.M. The detectives were not invited, but were going anyway. They planned on attending after getting coffee at The Bridge Stop diner.

  Sheski was beginning to feel like a regular there, as the friendly staff were greeting him by name now. He and Mike drank the Jamaican blend, with Sheski craning his neck to observe customers when they came through the front door.

  "Who are you looking for?" Mike teased with a smile, knowing full well who his friend had in mind.

  Sheski told his friend about his date with Lana and the interest he had in seeing her again.

  Mike became solemn. "It's about time you got back into circulation again. I know you've had a rough time of it." He added, "Lana seems like a nice personpretty, too. Keep me posted on any developments"

  Mike thought about his own wife, Lillian, and how after sixteen years, he still loved her deeply. He couldn't imagine losing her. His partnership with Sheski had started shortly before Lois's death. It was long enough, though, to recognize true love when he saw it. So many of their fellow staties had bad marriages or poor relationships due to the demands of the job. Many times he and Sheski had remarked on how lucky they were. Then that awful phone call came, with Sheski wailing and in shock. It was several years before his friend could even start to date again. He and Lillian had even tried fixing him up with a cousin one time. It didn't take. Mike hoped that maybe this would be different.

  After coffee, the two lieutenants spent the early morning interviewing Barry Brown's customers. There were six regular patrons of Zimmerman's Gardening Service, including Dr. Bums, for whom Barry worked. All were wealthy. The first five told similar stories. Barry always arrived on time, kept to himself, spoke little, and did a magnificent job. He easily outworked men ten years younger. And he had a green thumb when it came to their precious plants and shrubbery.

  Upon glimpsing their yards, the lieutenants couldn't deny it. Each of the properties was beautifully main tained. The trees and shrubs were all sculpted as if drawn with colored pencils. There wasn't a leaf or petal out of place. Borders and edgings were meticulously spaced and planted. How he managed that was anyone's guess. He didn't carry a ruler or level with him; it was all done with the eye. He was obsessed with perfection, and it paid off. Barry even mixed his own plant fertilizers, closely guarding the formula. When his boss asked him for it, Barry grimly and silently shook his large, shaggy head back and forth. He wasn't sharing. His patrons paid plenty for his services, but they didn't begrudge it. Zimmerman's had a goldmine in Barry, they observed. Further, they all tipped Barry well, out of fear of losing him to someone else. There was a long waiting list of locals who wanted to woo the gardener away from the regulars. When the lieutenants asked, none of his customers knew where the missing man might be, and none believed him capable of murder. He was too quiet and too shy, they agreed. They all wanted him found safe and sound. After all, their properties would not be the same without him.

  The customers had noted, though, that in the past few months, Barry was having some difficulties. He was moving much more slowly and experiencing problems with anything heavy. They thought that whatever it was would pass. They were willing to wait him out. That's how good he was. Sheski noted on his pad to check with Barry's physician.

  Mike kept a watch on the time and when it was getting to be midmorning, he drove the unmarked state police car to the funeral home. Although the investiga tors involved in this case were not formally invited, these two would be there anyway. Some of their best investigation results emerged from attending services such as these. Surprisingly, many killers attended their victim's interment. They seemed to get some kind of secondary gratification out of the service, burial, and responses of the family and friends to their loved one's demise.

  Sheski had donned his dark suit, white shirt, and plain dark tie for the early morning service. Mike was dressed similarly. They arrived at the funeral home at 10 A.M., an hour early, the first non-family members there.

  Neither lieutenant was fond of this p
art of their job. Most times, in the interest of the investigation, they were able to put their personal feelings aside. Today was no different. They easily found the place, a large brick house converted into a funeral home, as are many big old homes in this part of the country.

  Upon entering the foyer, they were greeted by the funeral director, a distinguished-looking man in his seventies, who quietly took their coats and showed them to the guest register, where they signed their names. Only three names were ahead of theirs. The registry showed the signatures of Dr. Lesley Stone, husband, Karen Stone, daughter, and Ruth Wagner, cousin of the deceased. Outside, cars were beginning to park on the street, with black-clothed occupants preparing to pay their respects.

  Rose's closed casket rested on a bier against a back wall in what appeared to once have been an immense parlor. It was a magnificent walnut casket, handengraved with rose bouquets. Brass hardware added an elegant touch. Draping the top of the casket was a garland of pink and white roses that cascaded down over the side and hung nearly to the floor. A red ribbon declared in gold letters, Beloved Wife. To the left of the garland, at the very head of the coffin, lay a small bouquet of white rosebuds with feathery fern accents. Dangling from the flowers was a small white ribbon with the word Mother in dainty gold script. The effect gave the false impression of a much-adored family member.

  Flanking the casket were dozens of floral tributes in containers of various shapes and sizes. Most were in the upper-spending bracket that must have kept florists in the area busily preparing for hours. Strategicallyplaced signed cards identified the senders.

  Heavy, dark green drapes outlined bay windows on the east wall. A parquet oak floor gave testament to a time when Pennsylvania was the lumber capital of the world and hardwoods were generously used. A pink Aubusson carpet covered the center of the floor, and low-backed velvet chairs lined the first row for grieving family members. Behind them, like stark witnesses to bereavement and mourning, were row after row of wooden folding chairs. Including an overflow area, there was seating for at least a hundred.