Stone Haven

by Holly Fox Vellekoop

  Vickie rolled her eyes in response to her friend's lust. "Oh, by the way," she said slyly. "Lana Stahl came by and said to tell the tall, good-looking detective that she would be in her office until six; that you were to stop by and say hello" She grinned and looked back and forth expectantly from Sheski to Mike.

  Mike cracked first. "I'll go on out to the car and wait for you. Take your time."

  "I won't be long," Sheski said. He followed Vickie's directions to Lana's office, knocked on the door and said, "Lana?"

  "Come on in, Tommy," she said excitedly. The door closed behind him.

  Well, I'll be, thought Vickie. Wait 'til I tell Shannon. She picked up the phone, happily dialed Shannon's office number, and chattered away.

  Inside Lana's office, the two grinned at each other and Lana gave him a quick hug. She was afraid to get into a clinch too long because she still had a lot of work to do and wanted to be able to do it.

  Sheski saw she had an eight into ten of someone on her desk and peeked around to see who it was. He laughed when a picture of the furry Bunky, sitting on a wagon, looked back at him.

  Mike didn't have too long to wait. Sheski only stayed fifteen minutes. Not that he didn't want to stay longer, he just didn't want to compromise Lana's job or give the office gossips any more to talk about than his short visit commanded. They promised to see each other Saturday night at Sheski's house.

  "Tonight, I think we'll pay John Deadly a visit at his home," Sheski said to his partner. "I'd like to check him out away from his job. See where he lives, and how he'll react to some questions. Where do you think a guy like that lives, in the sewer?"

  "Nah, he probably has an upstairs apartment in town," guessed Mike.

  "If we want to deal with him tonight, let's go back to the office and plan our strategy," Mike said. "And on our way, you can tell me about your visit with Lana"

  "I'm not telling you anything," Sheski said goodnaturedly. "Besides, there's nothing to tell"

  "You're in worse shape than I thought," Mike laughingly replied.

  MONDAY AFTERNOON

  The Kramer twins, Dave and Danny, middle school students, silently made their way along the muddy banks of Mahoning Creek. They had bagged yet another school day to go fishing and didn't want anyone to see or hear them for fear they would be found out. Their morning was spent under the river bridge with sixpound test lines in the water, but nothing was biting, so they walked along the soft mud to their favorite fishing hole in the adjoining creek for the afternoon.

  The boys ducked under pine boughs along the murky, shallow waterway. They carried with them their prized Shakespeare fiberglass rods. After a few minutes, a spot was chosen where they couldn't be seen from West Mahoning Street, just in case someone should come looking for them. It was a good spot, with low-hanging tree branches and a hollow in the bank where the creek made a sharp angle to enter the river. From their vantage point, they could see anyone coming without being seen themselves. Both boys settled in, nestling their backs against the cold, hard ground, on the site of the former cinder tip.

  Seventy years before, waste products from the nowdefunct iron mill had been dumped all along these creek banks. At that time, the area was a favorite of the town drunks and children playing games. After the mill ceased production, trees and green eventually returned and it became a popular fishing spot for locals.

  The brothers got comfortable and placed their backpacks beside Dave, who prepared their lines. They had come to do some serious fishing and wanted to get to it before they had to get home.

  Identical in every way physically, the towheaded boys were opposites in personalities. Dave, loud and bossy, was a full two minutes older than his brother and was the leader, speaking for the two of them when needed. Danny was quiet and reserved.

  "Want a sandwich?" Dave asked his brother.

  "Yep," was the reply.

  A peanut butter and jelly sandwich was unwrapped and carefully handed over.

  "Here, take a soda, too. I got root beer. Your favorite."

  "Okay, thanks," Danny said passively. He leaned across his brother for a soda, not wanting to disturb his rod, which had a pale line snaking down into the creek. He grasped the brown-and-silver can in his left hand, then lost his grip on it, and watched in dismay as it rolled down the bank, out of his sight. He heard it plop into the creek. He looked up at his twin.

  "I'll get it," Dave offered. "You watch the rods" The young boy slowly made his way down down from their refuge to where he thought the can had rolled. A couple of times his feet skidded on some stones, but he caught himself and plugged on.

  After a few minutes, when Dave didn't return, Danny decided he should go after him. He, too, went slowly down to the stream, skidding and sliding at times. As he got closer to the water, the unmistakable odor of something dead was detected, causing him to proceed with caution.

  He could see his brother standing there, arms at his side, staring at something half in, half out of the creek in some brush. Whatever it was, it was long, dirty, and ragged. As he drew up next to his twin, Danny got a closer look at the object of Dave's attention. There was no mistaking it. The body of what appeared to be a man was lying facedown in the water. The limbs of the corpse were twisted at odd angles, with the left arm resting under the body. It was wearing a torn green jacket with the letters ... erman's appliqued in white on the back. The soiled garment was pulled partly up the man's torso.

  When Dave sensed his twin nearby, he turned and told him not to look. At this point, Danny began to gag and vomited into the creek downstream from the body. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve on his left arm and started to cry. Dave reached out and led him away from the gruesome scene. The two of them scrambled back up the creek bank, slipping and sliding.

  Fear had tightly gripped their adolescent hearts, and their precious fishing gear was abandoned as they went hastily in search of help. They wanted to be found now. For the first time in his life, Dave was really scared.

  MONDAY AFTERNOON

  The state police office was quiet. Sheski and Mike were in the common room with Doug, who was manning the phones and handling walk-ins. Today, work at the barracks was pretty slow. His only real interaction with the public had been to provide directions for an elderly couple, John and Clara Lee from Connecticut. The Lees had somehow driven their motor home down the wrong exit off Route 80 and were lost. Doug got the septuagenarians coffee and carefully explained to them how to get back on the interstate so they could continue their journey. As the lost couple was going out the door, the phone rang. Politely excusing himself, Doug raced back to his desk and picked up the receiver. He watched out the window as the Lees backed out of the parking lot, listening to a fellow officer on the other line. Eyes widening, he motioned for Sheski and Mike to shut up and pay attention. When the policeman fin ished giving the young trooper what information he had for him, Doug thanked him and turned to the others. "It looks like our missing gardener has turned up," he said. "Some boys found him facedown in a creek in Danville."

  It took Sheski and Mike thirty minutes via Route 642 to get back to Danville. They parked a couple of blocks up from the high school football field and made their way to the crime scene. They hurried past vehicles and the usual horde of curious spectators, flashing their badges to get through a barricade of police cars.

  Approaching the base of the creek bank, the men saw a black-and-white with identical-looking blond boys in the back seat. A young couple, the boys' parents, were sitting one on either side of the twins. One of the boys had his right arm around the other's shoulders, and the youths looked at the lieutenants as they walked by. When Sheski looked back, he noticed that photographers were busy trying to get pictures of the camerashy youngsters. The boy being comforted lowered his head, but the other was staring boldly at the newsmen.

  "Get those newshounds out of here," Sheski shouted to one of the local cops. "They're just kids. Give them a break!"

  The troopers carefully ascende
d the bank, stood on the crest, and then descended the other side to the creek. The body was positioned near the water. It had not yet been moved from the area because the town police were initially unable to locate Dr. Anthony Rae, the coroner. He was there now and had just completed his preliminary examination. Barry Brown was on his back, having been carefully turned over by investigators. His face was starting to turn black, dull features contorting into a grotesque expression.

  Sheski put a clean handkerchief up to his nose and asked the coroner, "What have you got for us, Tony?"

  "The poor soul was strangled with a thin wire," he replied flatly, pointing to the ligature still dangling from Barry's neck. "Besides the deep cut along the neckline, he suffered scrapes and cuts that must have happened when the body was rolled down the creek bank from the top over there" He pointed to a spot near a tall pine tree. "Oh yes, there's some sort of bruising on the right posterior kidney area. It looks like something was pushing into his lower back about the same time he was being strangled. He's been dead and down here probably since Friday. He appears to have been killed about the same time as Rose Stone. I won't be sure until the autopsy is completed, but that's my educated guess" With that, the coroner removed latex gloves from his hands and pulled a candy bar out of his pocket. He proceeded to noisily unwrap it and take a bite. "Want some?" he asked, holding the sweet out toward the lawmen. They shook their heads no.

  Sheski's relationship with the coroner went back many years and he had a lot of respect for him. They had worked together on other murders, and Tony always knew what he was talking about. He was good on the witness stand, too.

  Sheski figured Barry had met his maker on Friday, just like the coroner said, and he told Mike so. With another murder on their hands, he was starting to feel the pressure to have them solved quickly.

  The men moved away from the body and climbed to the top of the creek bank. Being careful not to lose their balance, the detectives and the coroner descended the slippery knoll to a grassy area below, where they paused to catch their breath.

  "By the way, guys," the coroner said. "I finished the autopsy on Mrs. Stone. There was no sign of sexual intercourse or sexual assault, so we can rule out rape. One other thing-she had the same peculiar bruise on her back that I found on Barry. On her it was up a little higher, but it appears that whatever was gouging into Barry's kidneys got Mrs. Stone's right mid-scapula. I think our killer has two victims. The media's gonna love this." He finished off his candy bar and pulled out another one. Unwrapping it, he happily took a bite and started chewing.

  The words no sooner left his mouth when a smiling Terry Ryder, pad and pencil poised, approached the men and asked, "What's going on here, guys? What can you give me?"

  Sheski found Terry to be the least pushy of the local newspaper reporters.

  "Nothing right now," he replied. "Go wait by your van, Terry, and we'll give you a statement in a couple of minutes."

  "Aw, come on, I don't have all day," he whined. "I have a deadline, you know."

  "We won't be long," Mike added.

  "Okay," the reporter replied grudgingly. Walking away, he shot back, "But don't forget where I am"

  The troopers waited for him to get out of earshot before they resumed their conversation.

  "Looks like this eliminates Barry Brown as a suspect in the Stone murder," Mike said to his buddy.

  Mike furrowed his eyebrows. "But Lana said she saw the gardener before she went in the house and found Rose"

  "She must have been mistaken. Maybe it was someone else other than Barry that Lana saw out there in the yard holding a gardening tool. Maybe what she really saw was the murderer with the murder weapon," Sheski replied. "Barry Brown might have been murdered so the killer could get to Rose"

  His eyes hardened and he said with alarm to his partner, "That's why Lana's being followed. Maybe the murderer was there when she arrived, pretending to be the gardener. He might think she can identify him."

  "She might not have wanted a guard," Mike added. "But I'm glad we went ahead and placed someone with her anyway."

  Sheski looked at Mike grimly and nodded. "I telephoned him not long ago to make sure he was on the job. He sounded tired but assured me there was no activity going on so far."

  "Well, now," Sheski began. "With a prime suspect out of the way, we need to take a closer look at some of the others on our list. I have a hunch about the marks on the victims' backs, Mike. Let's deal with Terry and then get over to the library. There's something I want to check out in some back issues of the local newspapers before we go see Deadly."

  As they started down the street to the reporter's van, one of the local policemen, Andy Wallace, called out to them. He approached the two lieutenants and said in a low voice, "Sorry to interrupt, but I have something I thought you might like to see."

  He pulled a small white cotton hanky out of his pocket and gingerly opened the cloth to show them some shining items heaped together in the center. Lying regally on the clean material were dirty but expensive looking drop diamond earrings in platinum settings, pieces of sodden grass caught in their prongs. Nestled next to them were a diamond platinum watch and a necklace, the chain knotted and broken. Despite being muddy, their luster was still evident.

  "These were found in Barry's pockets," the policeman said. "We think it's the jewelry that was stolen from Rose Stone's body. They match up with what her husband listed as missing."

  "Beautiful," Mike said admiringly. "Top of the line."

  "Is that it? No ring?" Sheski asked.

  "No ring," Andy said firmly. "Dr. Stone sounded pretty upset when I called and told him what we found. He insisted we do a search of the area around the body and in the creek for the diamond ring. Made a big deal about it. Mahoning Creek sure is cold this time of the year," he digressed. "Anyway, we did what he asked and still didn't find it. He was furious when we came up empty, came real close to saying something he might have regretted later. I've known him all my life and I'm not gonna take any abuse from him. He's lucky we got what we did. It all could have floated on down into the Susquehanna" Andy rolled the jewelry over on the cloth and said, "If her ring went with the current, some lucky so-and-so may catch a bass someday and get more than a meal out of it." He chuckled at the thought. "Oh yeah, do you want to interview the twins that found the body, you two? They're still here"

  "No, I'll read your report and if there's anything further I need from them, I'll call later. Poor kids. They're probably pretty shaken. Keep those photographers out of their faces and let the parents take them home"

  They watched Andy march toward the police car to chase the cameras away and tell the Kramers that they could take their sons home. The photographers complained but, cameras flashing, found other subjects for their lenses.

  Mike turned to his partner. "What do you make of them finding the jewelry on Barry?"

  "I'm not sure. If he didn't kill Mrs. Stone, someone might want us to think it was him. Barry sure didn't tie that wire around his own neck, though."

  Hearing a door slam, the lieutenants looked over at Terry, who was out of the company van, smiling and waving at them, his sleeves flapping against long, skinny arms. He was pointing at his pad and pen and then at his watch.

  "Let's get this over with," Sheski said with a deep sigh. "Then we'll go to the library." He managed a halfhearted smile and they walked toward the reporter.

  Mike parked the car on Ferry Street on the east side. "This must be the area where Dr. Stone's brother waltzed into the river," Mike said as they got out of the vehicle.

  "Yes, it is," his partner replied. "I wanted to get a closer look at that scene before it gets dark. Also, there are some things I want to check in the library. Dr. Stone seems to have too many tragic deaths in his family. Most people go through life and don't even suffer one such event, but he seems to have quite a few. His brother, Samuel, drowns down there," he said, motioning towards the river. "And his mother is killed in an unfortunate car accident. I g
et bad vibes when one of our suspects has that kind of a history."

  The two men made their way down the sloping street to the sidewalk along the river park. Carefully, they walked the stony path down to the muddy banks of the Susquehanna. It was difficult for them to imagine anyone wanting to swim in that beautiful river, day or night. The river had a reputation with swimmers, and not a good one either. At least once a year a fisherman without a life vest would drown in waters that most people thought were shallow from shore to shore. Swimmers of all ages and experience had drowned there over the years, too, their bodies pulled down into hidden pockets of deep pooling water with barelydetectable whirlpools churned from the rapid currents.

  There didn't seem to be anything new here to learn, but Sheski wanted to take a look at it anyway. He wanted to get a feel for the area where that crazy young man had met his death. It was a bucolic scene, the treecovered hills on the south side, sloping down toward the north branch. The flowing river with the sun glinting on gray-green waters was mesmerizing, and the men had to force themselves to look away and get back up to the library.

  Sheski talked as he walked. "Most libraries keep back issues of newspapers on microfilm. Let's go in and see if they have them here dating back to the nineteen sixties. We've been over the materials in our files, but I want to see if we can learn anything new or different from the newspapers about our locals involved in these cases"

  The two policemen rounded the corner and walked up the stone steps and through the double doors leading into the vestibule. They stepped onto the tile floor, opened the second set of entry doors and entered a building that, except for the copier under the oak open stairwell, hadn't changed since it was built in the 1880s.

  As he approached the librarian's desk, Sheski saw an oak card catalog cabinet to his right. Hand-printed directions on an index card taped to the top of the file indicated that the cabinet to the left had books catalogued by titles, and the card file on the right was catalogued by author. This is one library that hasn't yet gone to the computer system, he thought. Despite the extra work he knew would be involved without a computer system, he found this oddly pleasing.