Stone Haven

by Holly Fox Vellekoop

  Mike approached the aged librarian, identified on her name pin as Marian, and asked how they might locate old newspaper articles. She was a heavy-set, pleasant-looking woman, with her gray hair pinned back neatly in a bun.

  Marian whispered an explanation that the local newspapers were filed first under the paper's name and then according to years, months, and days. If they would bring her the file number of the newspapers they wanted, she would have someone get them from storage.

  "We haven't yet gone to a computer system," she apologized in a low voice. "But we're hoping to in the near future. It's so expensive, you know. So," she went on kindly, "Original papers will have to do."

  Sheski thanked her and fingered through the small cards in the drawers for the items he needed. He wrote down the file numbers for newspapers of the Danville News, dated July 25 to July 31, 1968, and July 25-31, 1969. For further information, he also wrote numbers for another local paper, the Morning Press, same dates. He took his list to the smiling Marian. She explained that it would take her some time but while she searched for the papers, they could wait in the periodicals room. She rose from her chair with a great deal of effort, kyphosis impeding her movements.

  Mike led the way through doors with the word Gentlemen lettered in gold on the glass. A bronze plaque on the wall to the left of the doors informed the public that the room was furnished For the citizens of Danville by Mrs. Elizabeth Hastings Stone. A fireplace with a large mirror over the white marble mantle stood in the middle of one wall. Original stained glass windows lined the other three. The men placed themselves in oak captain's chairs and leaned on the library table. Copies of the day's newspapers hung on wooden pole racks nearby, waiting to be read.

  "I guess we could read something while we wait. This might take awhile," Sheski said.

  Mike agreed and the two men started rummaging through stacks of well-worn paperback novels for sale on the fifty-cent rack.

  Sheski was enjoying what he was seeing and hearing. This old library, with its converted brassoliers and cast iron radiators, was like stepping back in time. He preferred this in contrast to a sterile, modern building.

  After a while, his musings were interrupted by the sound of creaking wheels. Despite a spinal curvature, the librarian was happily pushing a wooden cart piled with two weeks' worth of old newspapers. Each was in a plastic sheath with an identification tag displayed prominently on the front.

  "Here you go, young man. One of our volunteers got them for you. I hope you find what you're looking for. If we can be of any further help, please let me know."

  Young man, Sheski thought. I haven't been called that in a while. It brought a smile to his face.

  The librarian made a quick exit to go shush some grade school children who were across the aisle in the opposite room. What once must have been a reading room for the women was now filled with children's books and child-sized tables and chairs. Upon seeing the aged librarian, the source of the whispers became silent. Marian then made her way back to the librarian's desk to assist a young couple who had placed their library card and several bestsellers on the counter.

  Sheski and Mike sat back down on the captain's chairs at a long oak table with lion's feet supports. They spread the newspapers out on the tabletop with the Morning Press papers going to Mike, and Sheski keeping the Danville News. They began the task of trying to find press releases on the events surrounding the deaths of Samuel and Elizabeth Stone.

  Sheski had been told by Andy Wallace that each of their accidents had taken place in the last week of July, one year apart, but was uncertain about the exact dates.

  "Check each newspaper until we have both the headlines and any follow-up articles, including the obituaries. See if there are any other interesting articles about these people that would help us get a better picture of them," he said quietly to Mike. "I have a hunch I want to follow."

  The two men pored over their early editions of the local newspapers, stopping every now and then to mention something that struck them as unusual or amusing.

  "Check this out," cried Mike. "Admission to the Capitol Theater is one dollar and a loaf of bread at the A & P costs forty-nine cents."

  His partner laughed and said, "Keep reading; that's not what I'm looking for."

  The July 28, 1968, news narratives of the death of Mrs. Elizabeth Hastings Stone were similar in both papers.

  Sheski read aloud. "'She was en route about eight P.M. July twenty-seventh, to her decorator's place of business in Catawissa via a convoluted country road when the accident took place. The dangerous unlit route follows the railroad tracks next to the river. The state police believe that a dog or some other creature ran out in front of Mrs. Stone's Rolls Royce, causing her to swerve to avoid striking it. Skid marks one hundred feet long were noted near the scene. Mrs. Stone lost control of the light blue luxury car at a point where there are no guardrails and went over the fifty-foot drop to the train tracks below. Death followed quickly. There were no eyewitnesses and, because of the sparselypopulated area, the crash went unreported until the next morning, when the wreckage was spotted by a passerby driving to work."'

  To the right of the article was a picture of the middle-aged Mrs. Stone. It showed a smiling, very attractive, light-haired woman. The Danville News quoted several prominent citizens who spoke glowingly of her philanthropical activities and her generosity to those in need. Reverend Joseph Henry of the Methodist Church, her pastor, told of the many missionaries she supported. The July 28 obituary acknowledged Mrs. Stone's community activities and the many charities that she supported. There was also a brief mention of a community foundation that she was putting together prior to her death. It was to have been supported by the Stone estate, the article noted, but sadly was unfinished and subsequently died with her.

  "She was quite a woman," Mike commented. "Nicelooking, too. Dr. Stone resembles her a little, don't you think?"

  Sheski studied the picture closely. "Only in looks," he said sarcastically. "She sounds like a caring human being. What a loss."

  The detectives continued their review of the newspapers for accounts of Samuel's death. After about thirty minutes, Sheski found himself engrossed in an extensive front-page news article. When he finished, he let out a loud whistle and said excitedly to Mike, "Will you look at this!" Sheski was pointing to a headline of the Danville News, July 29, 1969, which proclaimed, "Local Man Feared Dead in River." Subcaption: "Eyewitness tells of Mental Patient's Plunge into the Susquehanna."

  Sheski quietly read to Mike the first paragraph of a lengthy story. "'John Deadly, on a two-week leave from the army, contacted the Danville Police at elevenfifteen P.M. last evening to report witnessing a young man, Samuel Stone, running into the river. According to Mr. Deadly, a Danville native, he couldn't sleep last night so decided to take a walk along the river to relax. He had just sat down on one of the park benches to rest when he heard a commotion at the junction of Front and Ferry Streets. Looking up to see where it was coming from, he reported that he saw nineteen-year-old Samuel Stone talking to himself and gesturing wildly while running naked down Ferry Street in the direction of the river. Before he had a chance to stop him, the young man dashed down a lane leading to the water and ran into the shallow waterway."'

  Sheski read on. "'Mr. Deadly reported chasing after Samuel but, sadly, was unable to intercept him before it was too late. The young man swam out into the deeper section of the river, doggie-paddled for a while and then went under several times before disappearing from view in the strong undercurrent. Area police, well aware of the dangerous flow of dark water, fear the worst.'"

  Mike read the remainder of the article over Sheski's shoulder. The story documented Samuel Stone's previous history of manic depression and his treatment with the new drug Lithium. It also reported that he was often noncompliant with a medication regimen that, for efficacy, required strict adherence by the patient. The newspaper quoted Samuel's brother, Lesley, a student at Harvard, as saying he knew that his
only sibling was recently fighting a bout of mania. Lesley Stone further said that he had received a telephone call from his brother just minutes before the fatal plunge, with Samuel claiming grandly that he was going to swim the length of the river and then join his mother, Elizabeth Stone (deceased for one year). Lesley reported that he tried to talk his brother out of going near the river, to no avail. Samuel hung up on him. Locals may remember that Mrs. Elizabeth Stone died a year ago today in a fatal one-car crash on the back road to Catawissa. A side story then gave a short background of past deaths that had occurred in the Susquehanna River.

  "John Deadly has quite a history with Dr. Stone, wouldn't you say?" Sheski asked Mike.

  "Very true! But that must have been a terrible blow to Dr. Stone, losing his brother just one year after his mother's death. I'm surprised he didn't crack. Still, it seems like our man Stone has a lot of misery attached to his family. Makes you wonder."

  The Danville News printed a story on July 29 detailing the eventual discovery of Samuel Stone's body. It outlined how four Shikellamy High School teenagers swimming in the river found the young man's body in shallow water proximate to a small island. The discovery was made at the junction of the north and west branches of the Susquehanna River, nearby the town of Northumberland. There were quotes from a concerned Lesley Stone, who had come home from Harvard to wait for word on his brother.

  Sheski looked but could find no further remarks from John Deadly. On July 30, an obituary appeared with an outline of Samuel Stone's short life. He was born November 24, 1950, at the Bloomsburg Hospital and graduated from Danville High School in June, 1968. He was a member of the high school football team and played the lead in Hamlet, his high school play. Samuel resided at the Stones' family home on West Market Street. A small photo of a handsome young man with shoulder-length blond hair accompanied the article. From the photo, a strong resemblance to his older brother was seen.

  Newspaper accounts that Mike found in the paper basically reported the same facts. The only differences were the quotes from unidentified sources. These sources, who preferred to remain anonymous, confirmed reports that, like his brother before him, Samuel had been accepted at Harvard. They further noted that he was unable to attend due to his alternating periods of mania and depression. The sources also said that Samuel had been wildly spending large amounts of cash on all kinds of luxuries for months prior to his death. A much younger attorney Jerry Smithson was also quoted in the article but, unlike the others, preferred not to be anonymous. Conservator of the Stone estate, Smithson stated that he had tried unsuccessfully to curb the carnage on the young man's inheritance. He claimed that this should in no way be a smudge on the reputation of Smithson and Smithson, Attorneys at Law. He informed the readers that the Smithsons were competent attorneys and were open for business six days a week.

  "Good grief," Mike said in exasperation. "Smithson even managed a commercial in connection with this tragedy"

  "Some things never change," Sheski replied.

  He then went on to read the rest of the article. " `It was rumored that tens of thousands of dollars were charged to his account before the lawyer could put an end to it. When asked, Lesley declined to comment further on his brother's behavior and death.'"

  The lieutenants read each article closely, appreciating the way a newspaper gave details and narratives that were quite different than the sometimes sterile police reports. A more rounded picture of the people involved was beginning to emerge. And, if they were to make any headway in the murder at hand, even the smallest thing could make the difference.

  There were also occasional personal nuggets about those of interest to the officers, which were gleaned from the social columns that small-town papers are inclined to write. Who had whom over for parties, families vacationing together, and winners in local charity golf tournaments. All of which showed where society locals spent their time, and with whom.

  The two went to the copier located under the massive stairway. For fifteen cents a page, they were able to copy the articles relevant to their investigation. When they finished, Mike and Sheski replaced the newspapers on the cart that Marian used. Remembering the librarian's stooped posture and advanced age, Mike pushed the cart up to the desk and asked if he could take it anywhere for her.

  Smiling, she thanked them and said no, that she would have a volunteer put them away later. On her desk was a sign remarking on the non-profit status of the library, with small envelopes for donations. Both of the men put money in an envelope and thanked her for her help. On their way out, they handed them to her. She blushed and thanked them profusely, telling them to come visit again. They promised that they would.

  After exiting the library building, both state troopers breathed in the fresh air and started walking toward their car. "I think it's time we paid Mr. John Deadly a visit, Mike. What do you think?"

  His partner nodded in agreement.

  Sheski thought a minute and then said, "Yes, it's definitely time we go see Mr. John Deadly."

  Sheski drove a short way and pulled off the main street into a restaurant parking lot. He motioned to the telephone out in front.

  "It's your turn to make the call and the car phone's not working," he said to his partner. He handed him Deadly's telephone number.

  Mike got out of the car and went over to the pay phone. In the declining light, he looked at the numbers on the slip of paper Sheski gave him. He punched them in. Looking back at his partner, he flipped Sheski a thumbs-up sign. After a few meager sentences, he returned to the car and informed his friend, "Mr. Deadly says he will be there for another hour. If we get there now, we can talk to him."

  The detectives followed Deadly's directions.

  "Are you sure this is the correct address?" Sheski asked his friend quizzically as he viewed attractive, well-maintained homes lined up neatly in rows. "These all look like the kind of expensive lots that Barry Brown cared for."

  "That's the address he gave me five minutes ago," was the reply.

  The two were now in one of the more mature and nicer developments to the north of town. They were sitting in front of a meticulously cared-for ranch style home. It nestled in a landscaped yard on a large lot.

  The policemen sat and looked at each other. Mike again compared the address Deadly had given him to the one above the door. No doubt about it, they had the right house. Neither officer could believe that the crusty John Deadly lived in such a nice house.

  Sheski whistled. "Where could he get the money to buy this?" he rhetorically asked his friend. "I would have thought he lived in a dumpy motel or under a bowling alley or something. Certainly not in a place this nice."

  "I'm surprised, too. He lives a lot better on a security man's salary than most. He either owes a bundle or is better off than I would have guessed. By the way, what did the local police tell you about him?"

  Sheski began to read aloud the notes that Andy Wallace had given him on Deadly. "John P. Deadly. No middle name, just a P. He's sixty-two years old, born in 1937, graduated from Danville High School in 1955." Sheski droned on. "Had a six-year army career, was a grunt in Vietnam, honorable discharge in 1975. Black belt in karate. Keeps to himself. Man of few words. Never married, no children. Head of security at Stone Haven under Dr. Lesley Stone since the place opened in 1976. Oh yeah, by the way, he served in Vietnam with some other locals we know. Dr. Burns, Gordon Ashman, Bobby Snyder, and here we go again"-he paused for effect-"Dr. Lesley Stone."

  Mike raised his eyebrows at the information. Along with everything else, he was not surprised that Deadly had never married.

  MONDAY EVENING, 7 P.M.

  The state policeman positioned himself where he had a good view of the alley and the intersection to the rear of Lana's home. He had been stationed there by Lieutenant Sheski, who had telephoned him earlier to see how it was going. He reported the facts. So far, it was quiet.

  The unlit home behind him had no activity all evening. Mature landscaping obscured his observance
of some of the property but he was certain that this was the best he could do. He sat down and leaned his back against a small tree and lamented having to pull yet another double shift because of staffing problems. The long hours were taking their toll.

  The officer had been observing Lana's house for awhile, repositioning himself according to the time of day and his own comfort needs. Nothing much was happening as traffic diminished and he frequently changed his position to keep from dozing off.

  He did not see the small figure dressed in black watching him watch the house. When his head bobbed and his chin touched his chest, the figure made its move.

  It was getting dark outside now and Lana was starting to feel tired. She peered out the windows at the traffic heading to the bridge. Headlights glared from as far as she could see down Sunbury Road, typical for this time of the day. She then went from window to window in an effort to be reassured that someone wasn't lurking about her property, and scolded herself for feeling so insecure.

  After feeding Bunky, she took a hot bath and got into some cozy flannel pajamas and a bathrobe. In his usual manner, the dog followed her all over the house as she tidied up a bit. Lana looked out the windows again and then got a novel from a shelf to read. Bunky was watching her closely in the hopes that she would play with him or that he could grab something she had and hide it from her.

  Placing her tired feet into sheepskin slippers, Lana went into the television room, sank deep into her favorite overstuffed chair, and reviewed the day's events. She had gone back to work at 8 A.M. that morning and was busy all day.

  All of the Stone Haven staff was abuzz about the murders, trying to figure out whodunnit. Most agreed that just about anyone could have done Rose in. No one liked her, they reasoned. Lana was the only one who ever had anything nice to say about her, they would note sarcastically. Of course, they would complain, Lana hardly ever said anything bad about anyone. Staff members tried to have their discussions discreetly because of the potential effect should any patients or even Dr. Stone overhear them. A couple of times, Lana had walked in on their gatherings, heads together, talking. They would turn toward her, look a little sheepish, and then continue in low voices. She was sure that a couple of times the talk was about her and Sheski. She hadn't told them anything and it was driving them crazy. Especially when she had a visit with him in her office for a few minutes.