A Summer with the Dead

by Sherry Decker

  “No thank you.”

  Elly set the kettle on a burner and then paused in front of the yellow door, stroking its cracked and peeling paint with her fingertips.

  “Ms. Pederson, please come and sit down,” the young officer said.

  “I’ll make the tea, Aunt Elly.” Maya prepared two mugs with tea bags and set napkins on the table. “Cookies?”

  “Oatmeal raisin, please.” Elly’s eyes were fixed on the yellow door. “I’ve lived here for almost fifty-six years now. It’s been a good fifty-six years, especially when Harlan was alive. We were happy here, for the most part. Right up until Angel showed up, of course.”

  “This might not be the best time for an old story, Elly,” Maya said.

  “It’s as good a time as any. This old farm is going to keep the police busy for some time to come.”

  “Why is that?” the young officer asked.

  Elly chuckled and crossed her arms. He stepped back, his hand on his weapon. “Oh relax,” Elly said. “I’m not going to do anything you need to worry about.”

  Overhead, the sound of footsteps in the hallway traveled back and forth several times.

  “They won’t find anything up there,” Elly repeated. “No blood, anyway. Unless it’s a bit of ancient menstrual blood in that old bathroom.”

  The young officer’s cheeks turned red.

  “You asked me something recently, Maya, about what your father did here. Remember? I was either interrupted or lost track of the subject, and never told you about Stephen’s visit.”

  Maya set two steaming mugs on the table along with a plate of cookies. She sat down at the table across from Elly.

  “That’s right. You never told me anything about Dad’s visit.”

  “The cookies aren’t poisoned, young man, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Elly said. “Maya and I eat them all the time. We get them at the Red Apple in Graceville for two dollars and ninety-nine cents. They’re just the store brand, but I like them as much as those fancy cookies that come eight to a little sack and cost over four dollars.”

  “Thank you. No,” he said.

  “Suit yourself.” Elly bit into a cookie, chewed a long time and finally swallowed. “I phoned Stephen and asked for his help because Harlan was gone on that delivery. To Boise and back. Gone four days.”

  Elly took another bite of cookie and chewed again. She swallowed and took several sips of tea before continuing. “It all started with my uncle Felix. That was the only time Felix came to the farm. He didn’t even tell me he was in Washington State. I thought he was back in Chicago, like always, but there he stood, right in the driveway. He had some … guests … for me in the back of his delivery truck. They were healthy enough, but the truck hadn’t been cleaned up since the previous delivery. You understand, Maya?”

  “Yes.”

  “There were three men with Felix, and they were sick as dogs, covered in … pork trimmings from that previous delivery. They scrambled out of that truck and I hosed them off and led them around to the basement door. They had one suitcase between them. I told them to strip down, put on clean clothes and to drop the soiled ones by the washing machine. Then I went back out to talk to Felix. Felix said he’d be back for them in three days and he handed me five hundred dollars cash for food and expenses.

  “Those three guests had changed into clean duds when I returned to the basement. I led them to the guest suite.” Elly caught Maya’s eyes, nodded, and then continued. “By the shortest route.”

  Maya nodded.

  “Within an hour I had a tray of hot food on its way up to them, you know?”

  Maya nodded again.

  “When the dishes returned, they were licked clean, but had not been washed. I sent a note back, saying to wash them next time or there would be no more meals. Little did I know. there would be no more meals anyway. Felix returned the very next day and said he wanted to see them. So, I brought them back outside and Felix shot them dead in the driveway.”

  The young officer pushed away from the wall. “Ms. Pederson,” he said. “I’m a witness here. I can quote you in a court of law, word for word, what you just said. A judge and jury will most likely believe my testimony over yours. You might want to talk to a lawyer before you admit to involvement in a murder.”

  “It was forty years ago, young man,” Elly said.

  “It doesn’t matter if it was yesterday or a hundred years ago. A confession is a confession.”

  “Well forty years matters to me. I need to tell my niece what happened while there’s time, so you just go ahead and listen and see if you can memorize all the details. It’s a long story and you don’t know any of the people involved.”

  The young officer leaned back against the wall, his gaze fixed on Elly as she continued.

  “Felix shoved a thousand dollars into my hands, climbed into the truck along with his driver, and they were gone. That was the last time I ever saw Felix. Our only communication afterward was by phone. Those three bodies were there in the driveway, just about exactly where Sheriff Wimple’s vehicle is parked right now—maybe a bit closer to the bunkhouse, not sure. Anyway, that was another cold winter’s day. The ground was frozen. You follow, Maya?”

  Maya nodded.

  “I ran into the house and phoned Stephen. He wanted to know why he should drop everything and drive all the way over here, because back then there was no freeway, ya see. The highway stopped in Tacoma. From there on it was a two-lane country road, and, it was the middle of the week with commuters and all. Stephen had a job. He’d have to call in sick, he said. I told him it was terribly important. I told him I needed his help. He wanted to know where Harlan was. I told him Harlan was gone to Boise and wouldn’t be back for three days. I could hear your mother in the background. ‘Just hang up, Stephen. What does she want, Stephen? Tell her to leave us alone, Stephen.’ You know how your mother can be, Maya.

  “But finally, Stephen said he’d be over, and sure enough, he showed up just after dark. He asked a lot of questions, and I felt he deserved to know the truth, so I told him everything. Well, not everything, but enough, you know? He must have started thinking back to that Grady episode, from years and years ago when I first knew Harlan. Stephen probably put two and two together and drew his own conclusions. Bless him—even knowing what he knew, Stephen helped me. Together, we made several trips from the driveway to the barn, and then Stephen left. It was midnight as he crossed the bridge. I never saw Stephen again until he was hospitalized and visited him there.”

  “And you believe, it was because he helped you that Dad was hospitalized?” Maya asked.

  “Yes. I don’t think he was strong enough emotionally to deal with it. He was more fragile than me. And it was a particularly unpleasant job, that one. Felix must have been angry with those three men to do what he did to them. Numerous shots to the head and chest. Emptied both guns.”

  “Who is Felix?” The young officer asked.

  “Felix is my uncle,” Elly said.

  “Where can we find your uncle?”

  “In a hospital in Chicago.”

  “What hospital?”

  Elly shrugged. “I didn’t ask, but I strongly suspect Uncle Felix is beyond answering any questions. He’s apparently hooked up to life-support, if he’s alive at all.”

  “What about Danny?” Maya asked.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Coty, Sheriff Wimple and the other officer were returning.

  “When it’s noon and the sky is light,” Elly whispered, and winked at Maya.

  Sheriff Wimple rounded the newel post on the landing. Coty and the other officer followed him down the last eight steps.

  “Find anything interesting?” Elly asked.

  “There’s a long flight of stairs leading from your attic to a tunnel under the hill,” Sheriff Wimple said. “How long has that been there?”

  “Since 1957. Uncle Felix had that built. He never said what it was for.”

  “You just let your uncle come he
re and dig a tunnel without questioning his reasons?”

  “First of all, Uncle Felix didn’t do any of the digging himself. He sent three Mexican men here to dig. The day after they finished the tunnel, those three guys took off for parts unknown. I never saw them again. Additionally, Uncle Felix wasn’t the kind of person I’d have ever considered interrogating myself.”

  “The remains of two Mexican men were discovered at the bottom of the well by your niece, and a third in one of the old tunnels. Any connection?”

  “I suspect there was. None of them spoke English. None of them ever spoke to me.”

  “Coty, did you see Danny upstairs just now?” Maya asked.

  “No.” Coty glanced twice at the yellow basement door. “We should check the basement, Sheriff.”

  “There’s a specialized group on their way from Seattle forensics. They’ll take a more detailed approach to the upstairs and the basement.”

  “Am I still under arrest, Sheriff Wimple?” Elly asked.

  “Yes, and I’m having someone spend the night here to ensure you don’t leave the house.”

  “That’s fine. I don’t sleep well except in my own bed anyway,” Elly said.

  “Whether you sleep or not, doesn’t concern me,” the sheriff said. “I want you where I can find you.”

  “I’ll be right here, Sheriff. I’m not leaving.”

  “Jackson, phone Withers.” Sheriff Wimple’s gaze was aimed at the young officer who leaned against the wall near the back door.

  “Yes, sir.” The officer slipped his cell phone from his pocket and stepped outside.

  “Who is Withers?” Maya asked.

  “Withers will be staying here tonight, to make sure you and your aunt remain on the premises.”

  Elly snickered. “Night crew, huh? I used to work for a trucking company in Chicago. We had a late-hours man, too. His last name was Friendless. Funny, huh? Everyone referred to him as the night crew.”

  Sheriff Wimple, Coty, and the two young officers stared at Elly like she had two heads.

  “I overheard an incriminating story, Sheriff Wimple,” the young officer said. “While you were upstairs.”

  “I’ll ask you to write down everything you can remember, Jackson.”

  “Yes, sir. Won’t be a problem. I recorded it all on my cell phone.”

  Elly smiled at Sheriff Wimple. “Got yourself a good officer there, Sheriff. He’s smart.”

  “Aren’t we going to check out the basement?” Coty asked.

  “We’ll be back in the morning.” Sheriff Wimple picked up his hat from the counter, jammed it on his head, and exited. Officer Jackson remained while the other officer followed the sheriff out to the driveway.

  “Maya, may I speak to you in private,” Coty asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “Now, Maya. Let Coty speak his peace. I’m going upstairs to lie down anyway. This is becoming a tiring afternoon.” Elly stood, passed through the dining room and climbed the stairs.

  Coty said nothing until Elly’s door closed upstairs.

  “I’m sorry, Maya. I’ve been searching for Danny for seven months! He was a good kid.

  Don’t you understand? I used to baby sit Danny. I changed that kid’s diapers. I fed him strained carrots and broccoli and apple juice. I rocked him to sleep. I still remember how he smelled.

  I remember how the fine hair around his ears curled. Maya … I loved that kid.” Coty’s voice broke. Tears filled the corners of his eyes.

  Maya’s voice was barely a whisper. “Elly told me what happened, but I don’t want to tell you about it. It’s too awful.”

  “I have to know,” Coty said. “I have to.”

  “At least it wasn’t Elly’s doing. It was Fritz, a guy who used to make deliveries here. Deliveries, meaning bodies.

  “For the cemetery?”

  “No. Just bodies.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Uncle Felix sent delivery trucks here once or twice a year, with bodies to be buried. Felix didn’t care where they were buried or how, or even if they were buried, as long as they were never found. And Harlan never asked who the people were or where they came from. It’s what Harlan did back in Chicago. The job followed them here, even though Elly tried to leave all that behind. Do you understand now? Elly found herself in the midst of a very dirty business, with no way out. Even after Harlan died, they wouldn’t let her go. She said, ‘once you’re in the business, you’re always in the business.’”

  “Okay, but how did my nephew get involved?”

  “Wrong place at the wrong time. Danny was hitchhiking on his way into Graceville and Fritz picked him up and offered him money to help make a heavy delivery. Fritz killed him afterward.”

  Coty said nothing for a full minute. “So where is Danny’s body?”

  “You guys came back downstairs a few seconds too soon. All Elly had time to say was, when it’s noon and the sky is light.”

  “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It was always noon whenever you saw Danny upstairs, right? It was around noon when I saw him.”

  The kitchen door opened and officer Jackson stepped aside. “This is Mr. Withers. He’ll be staying here with you tonight.”

  On the threshold stood a man wearing a brown denim jacket with frayed cuffs and gray jeans. His brown loafers were scuffed, the heels worn down in back and the threads broken at the toes. He stepped inside. Mr. Withers was thin, with a pale complexion and a nose like a parrot’s beak. His straight hair was sparse, like strands of brown yarn glued across his scalp. His deep-set eyes were the palest, coldest blue Maya had ever seen. The fingers on his left hand were stained yellow-brown, as if from the constant grip of cigarettes, and the smell of an ashtray arrived with him.

  “There is no smoking allowed in this house, Mr. Withers,” Maya said.

  Mr. Withers fixed his icy gaze on Maya and after a few second, he nodded. “I’ll be stepping outside the kitchen door on occasion, then,” he said.

  “Take an ashtray with you. There will be no butts flicked into the driveway or into the shrubbery either.”

  He nodded.

  Officer Jackson climbed into his squad car and drove away.

  “Who are you?” Mr. Withers eyed Coty.

  “I’m the handyman. I’ve been here for the past six months, making repairs and such. I’ll be staying the night too.”

  Mr. Withers glanced around the kitchen. “I need to familiarize myself with the place,” he said.

  “Fine,” Maya said. “Just don’t open Elly’s bedroom door at the top of the stairs. She’s sleeping. You can meet her later. Stay out of my room too, at the opposite end of the hallway. Coty will accompany you on your sightseeing tour through the house.”

  “That’s okay with me,” Mr. Withers said.

  “Meet you back here in ten minutes, Maya,” Coty said. “Think about what Elly said.”

  “I’m going to heat up the leftover chicken, biscuits and green beans,” Maya said. “Have you eaten, Mr. Withers?”

  “I don’t eat dinner. It makes me sleepy.” Mr. Withers strolled away, down the pantry hall, passing by the big cupboards and pausing to open them one by one, and the utility closet door. Maya smiled when he missed spotting the dumbwaiter. He continued around the corner into the skylight room.

  Noon, when the sky is light.

  Skylight room, Maya thought. Noon.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTY

  AFTER HIS TOUR, MR. Withers lifted a straight-backed chair from the kitchen, carried it into the living room and placed it beside the picture window. He sat down with the window to his right. From there he had a view of the driveway, most of the skylight room, the lower stairs, and all the way through the dining room and into the kitchen. Every thirty minutes, he rose, crossed through the dining room, opened the kitchen door and stepped outside. He took deep drags from a cigarette and a few minutes later, returned to his chai
r in the living room. It had grown dark outside with no change in his routine except for two bathroom visits.

  “That guy’s a box of broken crackers,” Coty said. “Weird.”

  It was almost 10:00 PM when another car pulled up and parked near the kitchen door. Maya heard the familiar squeak of a car door. She hurried across the kitchen and parted the door curtains and discovered her mother, one hand was raised as if prepared to knock. She and Maya made eye contact through the glass, and Maya’s mother slumped as if intolerable stress had been relieved. Maya opened the door.

  “Maya, you promised to phone me. You haven’t answered your cell phone in days. You said I’d be able to reach you on it. I’ve been calling you every few hours with no answer.”

  “I guess I forgot to recharge it. Sorry, Mama. It’s been kind of crazy around here lately.”

  Her mother looked distraught, as if fighting the urge to cry.

  “Mama, come inside. I’ll make you some cocoa.”

  Her mother entered and paused in the center of the kitchen. She turned all the way around. “This place isn’t at all what I thought it would be. It’s so much bigger and … older.”

  “Yes, it’s over a hundred years old,” Maya said.

  Coty entered from the pantry. “Hello. I’m Wayne Matheson.”

  “I’m Maya’s mother, Jennifer. Most people call me Jen.”

  Jen? Really? Since when? Even Dad called you, Jennifer.

  Elly arrived through the dining room, having wakened from a three-hour nap. “Well, Jennifer, I am surprised to see you here.”

  “Hello, Elly,” Jennifer said. “Long time no see.”

  “Have you eaten?” Elly asked.

  “I’m too upset to eat, but thank you for asking.”

  “I have something we can all use, out in the bunkhouse.” Coty exited the backdoor and a moment later returned with a fifth of Black Velvet. He cracked the seal.

  “Oh my,” Jennifer said. “I never–”

  “First time for everything, Jen.” Elly collected four glasses from the cupboard and placed them on the table. Coty poured each glass half full.