Mary Ellen Hughes - Maggie Olenski 01 - Resort to Murder

by Mary Ellen Hughes

Maggie slowly followed the McManus’ blue Mercedes down the same twisty, mountain road of the day before. She was paying the price, now, for having overplayed the “directional disability” excuse. Before they left, Mr. McManus had explained to her repeatedly how he would slow down and signal at the point where she should turn off for Coopersburg. And he seemed to fear that she would somehow lose him if he drove at a normal speed.

  Maggie tapped her nails on the steering wheel with impatience at his slow, careful pace, willing him to pick things up. But then they came to the spot with the dented guardrail and skid marks. It graphically reminded her of the reason she was going through all this, and she looked on Mr. McManus’ presence with a properly grateful eye.

  True to his word, McManus slowed even more at the turn-off spot, put on his blinker, beeped his horn and pointed, along with his wife, to the right. In addition to all this Maggie saw the same clear road sign that had always been there, directing her to Coopersburg. She grinned, waved a thank you and beeped back, then saw them continue on with concerned backward glances as she turned.

  Maggie drove on alone, at first aware of a slight uneasiness at the loss of her unwitting bodyguards, but gradually relaxing as traffic increased and houses and businesses appeared. As she drove, her thoughts went back to last night’s talk with Rob, and they weren’t happy thoughts.

  Why had he lied? He definitely implied that the lesson with Mr. Anderson had taken place as scheduled. And Maggie knew it hadn’t. Her sympathies had been with him as he told his side of the Wimbledon story until then. She was so sure he was being truthful about that. And then he lied. Did that mean he had lied about it all?

  She drove farther into town and decided to put those distressing thoughts on hold as she realized she must be getting close to the church. Maggie mentally reviewed the directions Lori’s Aunt Rose had given her over the phone. As she drove down Main street she recognized Green street where the Baskers lived, passed it and continued on about a half mile. After that she didn’t need any more help, as the sight of a gathering crowd of dark-clothed mourners told her that she had found it. Maggie parked and followed those slowly filing into the church.

  The service was emotional and moving, as any funeral for one so young would be. The mourners included all ages, but those who seemed most affected, aside from her parents, were in Lori’s own age group. Maggie recognized more than one young worker from the Highview, particularly Holly, who was wearing a dark green dress and a very somber expression. Maggie also was surprised to see the new waiter, Chuck. If he had been hired after Lori’s death, he wouldn’t have known her, would he? She gazed at him, thinking that lately he seemed to show up in very unexpected places lately. She also checked carefully, more than once, but did not see Rob among the mourners.

  Near the end, a young man played the tape of a popular song, announcing it to have been Lori’s favorite. Maggie didn’t recognize it, but it seemed to affect Lori’s friends greatly as she heard muffled sobs and saw tissues dabbed at eyes. Maggie was taking deep breaths by this time, trying hard to keep her composure. But images of Lori sitting in class, first row, third desk, working out a geometry problem and never knowing how short her life would be, made it difficult.

  Finally the casket was wheeled down the church aisle, followed tearfully by family and friends, and the funeral cortege slowly lined up and left for the cemetery.

  After the graveside ceremony ended, Maggie waited her turn to speak to Lori’s parents.

  Mrs. Basker took her hand, and all Maggie could say was, “I’m so sorry.” It sounded hollow and useless to her, but Lori’s mother seemed to receive it gratefully. Her eyes were dry and sunken, as if all emotion had already been wrung out of her, but she reached out and hugged Maggie, who gulped and fought back the moistness springing to her own eyes.

  Mr. Basker simply shook her hand and nodded, saying, “Thank you, thank you,” and Maggie moved away feeling at this point unworthy of his gratitude. She hoped she would be able to change that.

  She stood aside, waiting until the crowd thinned, and gazed at the mounds of colorful flowers that had accumulated. As she waited, it occurred to her how uplifting these bright bouquets were to the pervading sorrow, and she wondered why dark clothing instead of bright colored ones became the norm for funerals. She herself had chosen the most subdued skirt and blouse she had packed, white and navy blue. Perhaps I’ll put in my will that everyone who comes to my funeral must dress in bright reds and yellows. Would they, she wondered, then shook off the odd thought as she finally saw Aunt Rose standing alone. Maggie went up to her.

  “Oh, Miss,” Rose said, brightening despite reddened eyes. “We’re having some food back at the house. Would you like to come over?”

  Maggie thought about the large crowd that likely would be there. Her presence wouldn’t be needed or missed, and she felt pretty wrung out, emotionally. “Thank you, no.”

  Rose nodded, understanding. “This surely isn’t what you had in mind for a vacation, is it?”

  Maggie shook her head and smiled. “Have the Baskers heard anything from the sheriff - about the investigation?” she asked.

  “Hardly anything. I got John, my husband, to call, but all he found out is that they’re working on it.” Rose sighed and wiped her pink, glistening face with a handkerchief pulled out of her sleeve.

  “I’ve been asking questions myself,” Maggie said, “up at the hotel, trying to fit a few pieces together about what led to Lori’s death. Do you know anything about the tennis instructor, Rob Clayton?”

  “Rob Clayton,” Rose repeated, thinking. “I do remember Lori talking some about him. Let’s see, a nice looking fellow? I think she liked him all right.”

  “Did she know him well? Perhaps date him?”

  “Now that I couldn’t tell you for sure. Let me think. She did have a certain sparkle in her eye when she talked about him. but I can’t say she ever actually went out with him. Her mother would know, I’m sure. Would you like me to ask her?”

  “Yes, when it’s a good time. What about Eric Semple? Did Lori ever mention him?”

  “Eric Semple? The boy who works in maintenance?”

  “Yes, that’s him.”

  “I remember meeting the mother at the blood drive Lori helped organize. The boy I didn’t meet, but his mother pointed him out to me. My, you’d think he had walked on water to get there by the way she talked about him. I’ve known some proud mothers in my time, but usually they had more to work with.”

  “You weren’t too impressed with Eric?”

  “Not by looking at him, that’s for sure. He has a kind of slouchy way about him, you know? And Lori couldn’t tell me much of anything positive when I asked her later, although she tried. I could see she really tried. Lori liked to see the best in people.”

  Maggie caught sight of a familiar figure moving in the distance. “Rose, that fellow over there, near the angel monument. He recently started working at the Highview and I didn’t think he would know Lori. Does he look familiar?”

  Rose turned to see. “Chuckie Henderson? Oh, sure he knew Lori. He had a real crush on her back in high school. I remember she used to groan about his coming around so much, ‘cause she really wasn’t interested in him, not in that way.”

  Maggie looked after the retreating Chuckie with greater interest. “How did he take her rejection?”

  “Oh, all right, I guess. He eventually stopped calling, but I don’t think he ever really gave up hope. Poor boy.”

  Rose glanced back at the departing family cars. “I’d better get moving now. You try to enjoy the rest of your vacation, now. Just move on from all this, hear?”

  Maggie nodded and watched her go, then went in search of her own car. So Chuckie Henderson had a thing for Lori. An obsession, she wondered? That was something else to look into. Maggie sat thinking in her car, her hands on the steering wheel, waiting for a chance to pull onto the cemetery road filled now with other departing vehicles, when she heard her name called. Loo
king around, she saw Holly scurrying with some difficulty in her high heels on the grass, waving her purse to catch Maggie’s attention. She came to the curb, stepped down carefully, and hobbled over to Maggie’s open window.

  “Can I hitch a ride with you?” she asked, as she bent down and squinted at Maggie. She paused to catch her breath and looked, Maggie thought, like a little girl playing dress-up, with her wide eyes and the few freckles dotted over her nose. “The guy I came with wants to go over to Hagerstown. We both got the afternoon off, but I don’t feel like following him around while he shops for car parts. Could you just drop me at my mom’s house? It’s not much out of the way, honest.”

  “Sure,” Maggie said, and leaned over to unlock the passenger door. Holly stood up and waved an “OK” signal to someone in the distance, then scrambled around and into the car. She started to pull out a cigarette, but Maggie shook her head and pointed to the No Smoking sign she had installed the first day she brought her new car home. There weren’t a lot of things she was fussy about, but keeping the lingering smell of stale smoke out of her car was one of them. “I don’t mind waiting if you want to smoke it outside, though,” she said.

  “Nah, I should cut down anyway.” Holly pushed the cigarettes back into her purse, then leaned back, slipped off her shoes, and gazed out the window as Maggie slowly wound her way out of the cemetery, following a long line of cars. “You can take a right, then a left at that light there,” she directed as they finally drove through the gate, then turned to Maggie with a sudden idea. “Hey, you feel like stopping for something to eat first? I’m dying for a cheeseburger. My mom’s not expecting me, and there’s probably gonna be nothing in the fridge.”

  Suddenly the thought of greasy fast food made Maggie hungry. “Sounds good to me. Where’s a good place?”

  Holly directed Maggie on a zig-zag route through the town to a small lunch room situated snugly between a hardware store and a dress shop. They walked in, and Maggie immediately saw it a favorite of Coopersburg workers and homebodies alike. Men in overalls were seated next to mothers with small children or white haired women in hand-crocheted sweaters. Red checked curtains framed the windows, and pictures of the owner’s family and pets decorated the walls. Maggie and Holly seated themselves at a table next to the window, and Maggie pulled up the well-thumbed menu propped between the sugar dispenser and salt and pepper shakers. She decided on a chicken salad, while Holly stuck with a cheeseburger, and they gave their orders to the young waitress who scurried over with glasses of water and utensils. They made small talk as they waited, turning inevitably to the funeral.

  “That really got me at the end, that song, `Summer Rain’,” Holly said at one point. “I was fine until then. I remembered her humming it as she loaded her trays.” Holly’s eyes welled up at the memory and she looked away and out the window. Their food came just then, and as plates were set down Maggie searched for a change of subject.

  “Lori’s Aunt Rose and I talked for a while at the cemetery, and she mentioned that she’d met Burnelle. It sounds like Burnelle is pretty wrapped up in her son Eric.”

  Holly snorted. “You could say that. I’d say Burnelle thinks the sun rises and falls according to what Eric is doing each day.” She took a bite of her cheeseburger and chewed on it. “She got him his job, you know, and the way she talks you’d think he was head landscaper instead of assistant grounds person.”

  Holly slurped at her shake, then looked up at Maggie, grinning at a memory. “Once he got chewed out for something – I don’t know what, maybe he dug up the wrong plants or something. Well, he complained to Mamma, and she goes running to the manager saying Eric’s boss was obviously incompetent, that he couldn’t give clear instructions, and so on. Well, I hear the supervisor got a warning, and Eric’s been digging up whatever he pleases ever since.”

  Maggie winced. She had come across a few mothers like that through school. They thought they were doing the right thing for their kids, getting them out of detentions, blaming their failures on their teachers. Instead of helping, however, the kids often ended up with even more problems in their life.

  “Was that supervisor Jack?” she asked.

  Holly looked up, surprised. “Yeah. You know Jack?”

  Maggie nodded. She knew Jack didn’t like Eric much, and was uneasy talking about him. This was one good reason, but Maggie had the feeling there was even more to it.

  “What do you think of Eric?” Maggie asked.

  “Me? I barely know him. I try to keep my distance from both of them, him and his mother.” Holly started digging in her purse for her cigarettes, and Maggie sensed she was being evasive.

  “Holly, you know I’m trying to find out as much about the hotel and the people there as I can because I want to identify Lori’s murderer. I’ve had some questions about Eric but haven’t found out very much about him yet. Anything you could add might make a big difference.”

  “Yeah, well, I wish I could help you, but I can’t.” Holly took a long drag on her cigarette and looked away with a stony expression that said subject closed. Maggie was puzzled but decided to drop it, at least for now. She finished her lunch, nibbling at the remaining potato chips and dill pickle and keeping the conversation light and neutral. Holly gradually loosened up again, and by the time they were back in the car she was chattering cheerfully.

  She had started giving Maggie directions to her mother’s house when she stopped. “You know what?” she said. “If I go there, there’s probably going to be nobody home, or if there is my mom and me will find something to get in a fight about. I’d rather do something different, go somewhere. What do you think?”

  Maggie looked over, surprised. “You mean with me?”

  “Yeah, if you want. You got to get back to the hotel for something?”

  “No,” Maggie considered. “I guess not. Not right away, anyway. What did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know. It’s your car. You decide. Anything, as long as it’s not Hagerstown and shopping for tires.”

  “Hagerstown. Doesn’t Rob’s mother live there?”

  “Yeah, I think he mentioned that once. But I don’t think he grew up there ‘cause he didn’t seem to know the town too well. So, where should we go?”

  Maggie thought for a minute, then grinned at Holly. “I don’t know about you, but I know what I’d like to do. It’s something I thought about when I was first driving up here. I’d like to go see Antietam.”

  “Antietam? The battlefield?”

  “Yes. Have you ever been there?”

  “Oh, yeah. They dragged us there once in junior high. I don’t remember much about it, just a lot of cornfields and stuff.”

  “Do you mind going again? I’ve never been.”

  Holly thought a moment, then kicked off her shoes. “Sure, why not? Maybe we’ll run into a couple of cute guys, who knows.”

  Maggie laughed and handed the map to her. “Get me there in twenty minutes and they’re both yours.”

  As they drove Maggie hoped spending this time with Holly, talking about unrelated things, would gradually win over the girl’s trust and she would divulge things that Maggie was sure she was holding back. She had had success with that method once or twice at school, talking to a student who seemed unmotivated about school work, gradually finding out, through casual after-class chats about practically nothing, what the real problem was. Maggie’s final goal this time, though, was much greater than raising grades.

  They pulled into the parking lot of the visitors’ center in exactly seventeen minutes, and Maggie joked about the right incentives producing great results. “Looks like the cute guys haven’t got here yet, though,” she said, glancing at the scattered tourists, “unless those two will do?” She pointed out a pair of toddlers in sailor suits, riding in the stroller pushed by their mother, and Holly grinned.

  Maggie spotted the pay phone in front of the center and, climbing out of the car, said, “Just give me a minute.” She thought she’d better
call Dyna and let her know about her detour so she wouldn’t worry. Dyna was getting more and more mother-hen-like, which Maggie found both comforting and amusing.

  She fished change from her skirt pocket, pushed the coins into the slot and dialed the Highview. Maggie had a quirky but handy memory for phone numbers, part of her natural bent for numbers in general, she figured. `Normal people remember names and faces, Maggie remembers birthdates and phone numbers,” Joe often teased. Having called the Highview once for her reservations, the number was now etched in her mind. She asked the hotel operator to connect her with Dyna’s room, and when, not surprisingly, there was no answer, left a message saying she’d be back late in the afternoon.

  She and Holly strolled into the visitors’ center, looked around at the memorabilia for a while, then rented a recorder and cassette for a driving tour of the area.

  They drove off from the center slowly, following the sign to the first designated stop, Dunker church. It sat peacefully near the road, surrounded by a tidy green lawn, with a cannon sitting nearby the only testament that something other than prayer and church picnics had taken place there at one time. They listened to the voice on the cassette recount the skirmishes that had occurred, then drove slowly on, following arrows on the road to the next stop.

  Maggie noticed Holly’s expression changing gradually from polite boredom to interested involvement as the tour progressed.

  “Why’d they just march up to each other like that? They were getting shot like crazy,” she said at one point, after hearing about the battle in the Miller cornfield where, in the words of General Hooker, “… the slain lay in rows precisely as they had stood in their ranks a few moments before.”

  “I read somewhere,” Maggie said, “that they still followed outmoded battle tactics that had been used for centuries when men fought with swords or bare hands.”

  “Well Jeez! You’d think when they saw half their armies done in during the first few minutes they’d think, hey, maybe we should try something different.”

  “I agree.”