by J A Whiting
Olivia chuckled. “I think I’m a bit young for him.”
Glenn, Robin, and Tom had moved away from the bar and were sitting at a table near the far wall with some other friends. Olivia approached the bar.
“What’s up?” Olivia asked.
“I heard you talking about Kenny Overman. You seemed interested in knowing what happened to his father. I know he’s in a nursing home over in Worcester.”
“How do you know?”
“My father-in-law’s in the same place. I saw Overman there. He doesn’t look too good. I thought I’d let you know.”
“Thanks,” Olivia told him. “What’s the name of the place?”
The bartender wrote the name of the nursing home on a bar coaster. Olivia took it, put it in her pocket, returned to her table, and reported to Jackie.
“I’m going to go to the nursing home and talk to him. Maybe I can find out where Kenny is.”
“Why bother driving out there?” Jackie asked. “Overman wasn’t right in the head back forty years ago. He must be in great shape now. Probably can’t even string a few words together. He probably doesn’t even know who Kenny is anymore.”
“I guess I’ll find out.”
Jackie narrowed her eyes. “Olivia, why don’t you give up on this? Now isn’t the right time for you to go investigating. Take some time for yourself. Forget about the murders. ”
Olivia had a faraway look on her face as she traced the condensation on the outside of her glass with her finger. She thought of her cousins’ smiling faces on the front page of the old newspaper and a heaviness settled around her heart.
“I don’t think I can do that,” she responded.
Chapter 17
Olivia dragged herself out of bed when Lily’s wet nose gave her a poke. Even though she had installed the air conditioner in the bedroom, she had tossed and turned during the night and did not feel rested at all. If not for the dog, she would have stayed in bed until noon.
Olivia and Lily took a long walk around the neighborhood before returning for breakfast. Olivia showered and put on a light-weight floral summer dress. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail, grabbed her keys and the bar coaster with the address written on it.
She steered her Jeep to the highway and even though the early morning was hazy and hot, she kept the windows down and didn’t turn on the air conditioning, preferring the breeze rushing through the car windows. Olivia had no idea what she was going to find at the nursing home. Probably, nothing.
After forty-five minutes of highway driving, she pulled off the exit and turned right onto Salisbury Street. She traveled several miles along tree-lined streets through suburban neighborhoods and then turned onto West Street. She took a left into a driveway marked by a small sign indicating the Manor Senior Living Community. The place was well-landscaped with flower beds and brick walkways winding throughout the property. There were several two story buildings spread over the campus. Olivia followed the signs to the nursing portion of the community. She parked and walked along a stone pathway that led to the front door. The place filled Olivia with a sense of despair and for a moment she was sorry she had made the trip.
Olivia opened the door and stepped into the foyer. A plump middle-aged receptionist smiled at her. “Hello. Can I help you?”
The place was furnished with cherry furniture and sofas and chairs of muted shades of green and peach. Matching swags framed the windows. The wood floors were shiny and clean. Huge windows looked over the lawns and gardens. There was a small vase of fresh flowers on the desk. Olivia understood how costly a full time nursing facility could be and from the looks of this place, she was sure that only the wealthy could afford to have a loved one in residence here. She wondered how Kenny’s father managed to pay the bill. It didn’t seem possible that he could live here and Olivia began to worry that she was in the wrong place.
An elderly gentleman scuffled up to the desk.
“Morning, John,” the receptionist greeted him.
He mumbled something that Olivia couldn’t understand, but the receptionist answered, “Here are some envelopes you can stamp for me. Come around and sit here at the end of the table.” He shuffled around and took a seat.
She winked at Olivia. “He likes to keep busy, so I have a job for him each morning.”
Olivia smiled. “I’m here to visit one of the residents. Lee Overman.”
The receptionist’s eyebrows went up. “Are you a relative?”
“Oh, no,” Olivia answered. “I didn’t know I had to be a relative to visit.”
“I didn’t mean that, hon. You can visit, relative or not. Lee doesn’t usually have visitors. Let me ring one of the nurses.” She picked up the phone and said a few words. “She’ll be right along.”
“Does Mr. Overman’s son ever visit?”
“Not since I’ve been here. To tell you the truth, no one ever visits Mr. Overman.”
“Have you worked here long?”
“Almost six years.”
A nurse came around the corner after a minute. Her face was questioning. “You’re here to visit Lee?”
“Yes. I’m Olivia Miller. I just thought I’d stop in. I’m living in the town where Lee used to live.” It wasn’t much of an explanation, but Olivia waited to see if she needed to add anything.
The nurse nodded. “This way.”
They walked along an immaculate corridor. A woman sat in a wheelchair holding a baby doll. She was rocking it and cooing to it like it was real.
“Lee isn’t what you’re probably expecting,” the nurse said. “He doesn’t speak much. He’s confused. Stays in his wheelchair and looks out the window. He needs help with his meals.” They walked past a few more rooms. “Here we are.”
A man sat in a wheelchair by a window in the room. He was hunched over and had a blanket over his knees.
“Lee? Someone’s here to see you,” the nurse spoke gently.
No response.
The nurse pulled a chair over next to the man. He just kept staring out the window. The nurse checked the cup that was sitting on a table. “I’m going to go get you some more juice,” she said. “Are you warm enough?”
No response.
“You can sit here,” she said to Olivia indicating the chair next to Lee. “I’ll be right back.”
Olivia edged over and sat down. The man’s eyes were cloudy and distant. He was skinny and his face was blotched with liver spots. The hair was white and thin on top. The blue black veins on the hands were visible through the almost translucent skin.
“Mr. Overman?” Olivia’s voice was soft.
Nothing.
“Mr. Overman? Lee? I’m Olivia Miller. I came from Howland.”
The man blinked but that was it.
“I came to ask about Kenny,” Olivia tried again.
It was like the man was deaf. Olivia was afraid she might upset the old man if she mentioned the murders, but if things kept going as they were, she had wasted her time coming to the nursing home.
“Lee, I know Kenny was in trouble in Howland back in the seventies.” Olivia watched the man’s face. “Because of a woman who was murdered. A woman and her child.”
The man’s face betrayed no emotion.
“I know the police questioned Kenny. They suspected him of killing the woman and the child.” Olivia paused. “But the police let him go.”
The man remained still and quiet.
Olivia waited. “Do you know where Kenny is?”
The nurse came back with some juice in the cup. “Want a drink, Lee?”
No response.
She held the cup to Overman’s mouth so that he could sip through the straw. She looked at Olivia and shrugged. “He’s not much for talking.” She returned the cup to the side table. “I’ll come back in a few minutes to put him in bed for a rest.”
Olivia nodded.
“Is Kenny still alive?” Olivia tried again.
The old man’s eyes stared out the window.
&n
bsp; “I’d really like to talk to Kenny.” She watched the birds at a feeder that was placed just outside the window. “He’s not in any trouble.”
No response.
“The woman and the child were my cousins.”
Silence. The man sat like a statue.
Olivia didn’t know what else to say.
The nurse returned. “I need to get him into bed. To change his position.”
Olivia nodded and stood up. She tried one more time. She bent down closer to the man’s face. “Can you tell me where Kenny is?”
Lee didn’t even look at Olivia, just past her, out the window.
The nurse moved the wheelchair closer to the bed.
“Thanks for letting me visit,” Olivia said.
“It was nice of you to come by. Lee doesn’t get any visitors,” the nurse said.
“No one?” Olivia asked.
The nurse shook her head.
“Do you mind if I ask? This seems like it must be a very expensive facility. I understand Mr. Overman wasn’t a wealthy man. I wonder how he manages the cost.”
“I don’t know. You’re right though. This place costs an arm and leg. The residents here have hefty bank accounts. Or their relatives do. It is a sought after senior community because of the quality of the care.”
Olivia nodded. “Well, thanks. I was just wondering.”
“Nice of you to stop by,” the nurse said.
“Bye, Mr. Overman,” Olivia said.
She headed for the hall and returned to her Jeep in the parking lot. Olivia stood next to her car rummaging through her bag for the key. In the short time she had been inside the nursing home, the temperature had risen several degrees and the light was white hot reflecting off the metal of the Jeep. She wished she was still in the air conditioned comfort of the nursing facility. How does Overman afford this place? He didn’t have any money. Who would be paying the bill?
Chapter 18
Robin from the Sports Bar Restaurant phoned Olivia with the news that Dan Waters, one of the young men who had found the Monahans’ bodies in the field forty years ago, would meet with her at the coffee shop in the center of Howland. Olivia was nervous. She felt intrusive talking to Mr. Waters about that awful day. She hoped he didn’t feel obligated to talk to her because Robin told him she was related to the victims.
Olivia parked her Jeep in the coffee shop lot and started for the door. A man in his late fifties with salt and pepper hair approached the coffee shop from the right, and reached the door just as Olivia was climbing the steps. He held the door open for her and said, “Olivia?”
Olivia smiled. “Mr. Waters.” She extended her hand to shake his.
“I recognized you from Robin’s description.” His eyes were kind. He had an easy, gentle manner.
They found an open booth near the big glass windows and ordered drinks.
“Robin tells me you’re related to the Monahans.”
Olivia explained that she only heard of her distant cousins and the murders when she arrived to house-sit for John.
“It’s just so disturbing that such a crime could be committed and no one was ever arrested,” Olivia said. She held Mr. Waters’ eyes. “It really bothers me.”
“Me, too.” His voice was soft.
“I’ve been talking to people who lived in town back then.” Olivia shifted her gaze to her tea cup. “I’m not trying to play detective. I just…I don’t know.” She looked up and sighed. “I can’t stop thinking ‘why’. Why did it happen? Why would someone murder a child? Why did someone get away with killing them?”
“I understand,” Waters said. “The same thoughts go through my mind.”
Olivia clasped her hands together and raised her eyes. “My aunt was murdered last year.”
Waters’ face muscles shifted from surprise to sadness in a split second. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know that my concern over this is magnified by what happened to us last summer. I’m hypersensitive to the injustice of it.” Olivia paused. “I’m telling you this because I want you to know that I’m not being morbid or ghoulish trying to find out details about my cousins. I just…I just wonder if there’s some tiny detail that the police overlooked that might reveal something new. That’s the reason I’m talking to people.”
Waters nodded.
“So if you’re uncomfortable telling me anything,” Olivia said, “please just say so. I know it must be hard to talk about it.” She swallowed hard. “I have a hard time talking about last year. I still…” She shook her head.
“It’s okay,” Waters said. “Time passes. It gets easier. I couldn’t talk about what I saw in that field for years. Sure, I had to tell the police and answer their questions, but for a very long time, I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.”
The waitress came to their table and re-filled Waters’ mug with coffee.
“Can you tell me about that day?” Olivia asked.
“I was eighteen years old,” Waters said. “I had just graduated high school and started a job. My friend Bobby and I were going fishing. Bobby picked me up and we drove to the state park. We had to walk through a field to get to the trails. We saw the car parked there. The back door was open. I went over to shut it so the battery wouldn’t die.” He cleared his throat. “That’s when I saw Mrs. Monahan on the ground. She was covered in blood. I knew she was dead.” He took a gulp of his coffee. “In those days, Howland had a chief of police and a part time officer. Officer Cooper owned the variety store here in Howland. If anybody needed him, they would call or go to the store to get him. There was no police station back then.” Waters adjusted himself on his seat. “We took off after we saw the bodies. We ran to the truck and drove like wild men to the store to get Officer Cooper. We were babbling at him to come quick. We brought him to the field. When we were ranting at him about what we saw he didn’t realize the woman and child were dead. Somehow we didn’t get that across in our frenzy. He just thought someone was hurt in the park. He had a shock when we got back to the field.” Dan took another long swallow of his coffee. He stared out the window. “Police swarmed the crime scene. Bobby and I stayed there and watched. That would never be allowed today. Police took photographs of the scene…of the mom and the little girl with one of those Polaroid instant picture cameras. The police spread the photos out on the back of the police car. I looked at them. It was horrible. I wish I had never seen them. Even though I was right there…even though Bobby and I found the victims…there was just something about those photos. The photos seemed to make the whole thing real.” He shook his head. “Those awful images are stuck in my brain.” He let out a long, slow breath. “I knew the family from church but I didn’t recognize them in the field. We found out later in the day who they were. I was sick for days after that. I had no appetite, couldn’t eat at all. Couldn’t sleep. The images still haunt me. The horror of it.” Dan looked at Olivia. “Who could do that to a little child? I still can’t drive by the state park without thinking about it,” he said. “I’m glad I moved away so I don’t have to drive by that place. I always hoped that they’d figure out who did it. Arrest someone. Send him to prison. It’s been so long now. I’ve given up hope that it will ever be solved.”
“Is it okay if I ask you some questions?”
“Of course,” Waters said.
“You found the mom first? Near the car?”
Waters nodded. “Her head was partially under the car…near the open door. She was on her back.”
“And then you found the little girl?”
“That’s right. She was in the front seat. Leaning against the door.”
“Were there any signs that they might have been molested?”
“They were both fully clothed, so, I would say they weren’t.” He hesitated. “Well, you know there was semen there?”
Olivia nodded.
“My assumption has always been that the semen happened after they were dead but I don’t know what the police would say.”
&nbs
p; “Do you know where the semen was found? In the grass? Near the bodies?
“It was on the front of Mrs. Monahan’s shorts.”
Disgust rose in Olivia’s throat.
“Could you get a sense of what happened from the crime scene?” Olivia asked. “Do you think Mrs. Monahan was driving? Do you think the killer was in the back seat directing where she should go? Or do you think the killer was driving and Mrs. Monahan was in the back? She wouldn’t have tried to escape because her daughter was in the front.”
Waters didn’t answer for a few seconds. His brow furrowed as he thought. “I couldn’t say for sure but if I had to guess, I would think the guy was in the back seat. When they got to the field, he probably jumped out, left the back door open, pulled Mrs. Monahan from the front. There was probably a struggle. He killed her. The little girl was probably screaming. Was probably too afraid to run. He must have killed her then. I picture him going back to the mother’s dead body and, you know…that’s how the semen got there.”
“It makes sense.” Olivia said.
“I’m just guessing, of course. I don’t have any information from the police about the order of events.”
Olivia nodded in agreement. “Did you and your friend Bobby talk about it? What might have happened to the Monahans? Who killed them? How the crime was committed?”
“No. We didn’t. You might think that strange, but the whole thing freaked us out so bad that we avoided the topic. We even stopped hanging out together. Seeing each other just brought the whole thing back and neither one of us wanted that. Right after it happened, people would stare at us and whisper. I figured they must think that me and Bobby were suspects. I hated being associated with the whole mess. I wanted to move away from it. I assume Bobby felt the same. Anyway, the friendship faded. He passed away a couple of years ago. My sister told me it was a heart attack.”
“Did you know Kenny Overman?” Olivia asked. “He must have been a year ahead of you in school?”
“Yeah, he was. I knew who he was but never hung around with him.”
“I know he was a suspect,” Olivia asked. “What did you think? Did you think he might have done it?”