“It wouldn’t matter who, it would get around and then I’d be ruined in this town.”
“Whatever it is, and you don’t have to tell me, I don’t imagine it would matter to the people who really care about you.”
“I’m not gonna tell ya. I’m hoping she took it to her grave.”
Scott thought of the letters Maggie saw Margie mail. Two were accounted for so far, and although Mrs. Delvecchio told Rita about hers, how did Rita also know about Trick’s and Mandy’s?
“I just have one more question for you. Was Rita Delvecchio close to Margie somehow? Do you think Margie would confide in Rita about what she was doing to people?”
“Rita hated Margie ‘bout as much as me. Rita’s sister took over Margie’s job at the post office, and I guess she left a huge mess for Sadie to clean up.”
“You know, I completely forgot Sadie is Rita’s sister. They aren’t much alike.”
“I know; Sadie’s a sweetie. You can’t imagine she could be sisters with that sourpuss Rita. Matt Delvecchio is the nicest man in the world, and that Rita gives him hell from the time he gets up ‘til he goes to bed at night. She’s got some weird mental problem where she don’t throw nothin’ away; have you heard about that?”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” Scott said.
Sadie Marcum had just returned from church when Scott knocked on her door. She lived in a modest bungalow on Iris Avenue next door to Maggie’s Aunt Delia and Uncle Ian. She led Scott back to her clean kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee. The newspaper was spread out on the kitchen table, and Scott could smell something delicious cooking in the oven.
“George is down to the festival grounds,” Sadie said. “He’s a Whistle Pig Lodge member so he’s working in that caravan. He’ll be home for some lunch any minute. Are you looking for him?”
“I’m investigating Margie Estep’s death,” Scott said, and watched as Sadie’s face became purposefully expressionless.
“Mmm hmm,” she said, and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Your sister said you might know something about some letters Margie mailed on Monday,” he said.
“My sister is mistaken,” Sadie said. “I can’t talk about the mail, Scott, you know that. I’d lose my job.”
“This may help us catch Margie’s murderer, Sadie. I need to know how many letters Margie mailed and who they were addressed to.”
“I need this job,” Sadie said. “George is layed off right now, and his unemployment only lasts three more months. This job was a like a gift to us from God.”
“Tell him what he needs to know,” George said from the hallway. Neither Sadie nor Scott had heard him come in. “You can’t let someone get away with killing people, Sadie. We’ve got kids to think about.”
George came in and shook Scott’s hand before he sat down at the table.
“Spill it, Sadie Anne,” he told his wife. “No job’s worth a murder on your conscience.”
Sadie was torn, Scott could tell. After a short silence she sighed deeply and uncrossed her arms. As soon as she did so her husband smiled at her in a tender way, as further encouragement.
“There was a bunch of letters, just like you said,” Sadie said. “We have to watch things like that because of terrorist attacks. I wrote down who they were addressed to, on account of the no return address thing. One was addressed to Antonia, and Rita was at her house when she read it. She said Tony figured Margie must have sent it because he refused to write her an insurance policy on her mother.”
“Where is that list?”
Sadie left the room for a moment and returned with a folded up piece of paper. Scott scanned the list and saw Antonia Delvecchio’s and Sandy Rodefeffer’s names were on it but Mandy Wilson’s name was not.
“Where would your sister get the idea that one of these letters had something to do with Mandy?”
Sadie looked very uncomfortable and her face flushed.
“Tell it all, hon,” George said. “Clear your conscience.”
“I held one of them up to the light,” she said. “I saw Mandy’s name written inside.”
“Which one?”
“The one to Ed Harrison.”
Sadie was near tears, and Scott was torn between reassuring her and scaring the hell out of her. George saved him the trouble.
“You’ve learned your lesson, now, haven’t you?” George said. “That’s how it started with Margie, probably, just a peek inside the mail out of curiosity, and before she knew it, she was blackmailing people and airing their dirty laundry.”
“I would never do that!” Sadie cried.
“I think you’ll be more careful in the future,” Scott said.
“You can count on it,” George said.
“Alright,” Sadie said, dabbing her eyes with a dish towel. “You two can quit being so hard on me now.”
George scooted his chair over so he could hug his wife, and Scott got up to leave.
“Is there anything else you know related to Margie that might help me find out who murdered her?” Scott asked them.
“No,” Sandy said. “I’ve told you everything.”
“If you remember anything else about those letters please let me know,” Scott said. “I won’t get you in trouble for helping me.”
“I will, Scott, I promise,” Sadie said.
“We’ve all heard the gossip about Margie’s mail tampering and taking money from Enid,” George said. “Everybody knows the only reason Margie wasn’t in jail was because you knew the shame of it would kill her poor mother. You did the right thing.”
“If she’d gone to jail, at least she’d be alive,” Scott said.
Scott left their house wondering, ‘where in the hell is Ed and why didn’t he mention his letter?’
Scott found Ed in his office working on his web site. When Scott told him about the letters, Ed seemed perplexed.
“I haven’t received anything in the mail from Margie,” he said. “I pick up the mail every morning and there was no mysterious letter any day this week.”
“You’ve opened everything, then?”
Ed reached over and picked up a stack of envelopes and papers from his in-box, and carefully went through each one.
“Nothing.”
“Mandy didn’t tell me what it was Margie had on her,” Scott said. “Has she confided anything in you?”
“She told me her husband got killed for agreeing to testify against a drug dealer, and how she drove Tommy up here looking for an aunt in Pennsylvania who it turned out died. Tommy was just a baby then and she didn’t have any other family. Her car broke down on the highway north of here and Curtis towed it to Rose Hill. He felt sorry for her and the Fitzpatricks pretty much adopted her; gave her a job and a place to live. Nothing she could be blackmailed over.”
“These letters are all pretty vicious,” Scott said. “I wonder what happened to yours.”
“I didn’t get it,” Ed said. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Scott said. “If you find it, though, give me a call. I don’t have to know what’s in it; I would just like to tie up any loose ends.”
“Who do you think killed her?”
“I think it was someone she was blackmailing. So far the letters just seem like hateful acts to upset people she wanted to punish. I think the killer was someone who could afford to pay, and the drop-off site was somewhere in the alley behind the tire store. Margie was expecting a big pay off, enough to fly to Hawaii and start a new life. I think Margie showed up to get the loot, the blackmail victim killed her, and then rolled her over the hill. I just wish I knew where she was keeping her stash of blackmail. We’ve been all over her house with a fine tooth comb, and there’s nothing there.”
“Could she have kept it stashed at the post office somewhere? In the ceiling or something?”
“I hadn’t thought of that. The only problem with that theory is they had the locks changed after she quit, so she wouldn’t have been abl
e to get back in to retrieve any of it.”
“Maybe the threat was enough. Maybe she didn’t have to actually have anything to back it up as long as she knew there was something to the rumor.”
“It’s worth a shot. I’ll get the key from Sadie and go have a look.”
But there was nothing hidden above the tiles in the drop ceiling at the post office but spiders and dust.
By noon, Hannah and Maggie were ensconced in the bakery caravan, huddled around the heater. The snow was flying and the wind was sharp.
“I hope the next six hours go by fast,” Hannah said miserably.
By two o’clock, the field was packed with tourists and locals. They were playing games, competing in contests, and most importantly, spending money at the many caravans. Hannah and Maggie took turns watching the dog sled race out the back door. Instead of the dog pulling the sled, each contestant pulled a sled with a dog sitting on it, and the winner was the one who crossed the finish line first with a dog still sitting on the sled. Contestants were not allowed to secure the dogs to their sleds in any way, so there were many loose dogs running around, chased by sled pullers.
“I think I recognize some of Theo’s dogs,” Maggie said to Hannah.
“I got them all placed in homes except the two beagle brothers.”
“I’ll tell you a secret, but you can’t tell her I told you,” Maggie said. “My mother has a real soft spot for beagles.”
“You don’t say.”
“Bonnie says there is nothing cuter than a beagle pup.”
“Thank you very much,” Hannah said.
“How are we going to find out what Connie was doing in 1984?” Maggie asked.
“We need to ask some people who knew her then,” Hannah said.
“Maybe we’ll find something in Margie’s house,” Maggie said. “She had to keep her blackmail stuff somewhere.”
It being Sunday, the Rose and Thorn caravan was closed out of respect for the local churches. Patrick and Sean were busy ferrying everything back to the Rose and Thorn in Patrick’s truck. They delivered baked goods and change to Maggie and Hannah most of the afternoon, while keeping an eye out for red-headed pirates.
Scott showed up at closing time and helped them break down the bakery caravan contents and drive everything back to the bakery. While Patrick drove his truck, Scott walked with Maggie.
“I stayed all night at Ava’s last night, on the couch,” he told her, as soon as they were alone. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I already heard about it. That was nice of you.”
“I’ve been running all over town today, and I didn’t have a chance to call you.”
“It’s really okay,” Maggie said. “I’m not worried about you and Ava.”
“That’s good.”
“Thanks for coming to help us clean up.”
“No problem. Listen, I need to talk to you later,” he said.
“What about?”
“Margie was blackmailing some people.”
“So I hear.”
“I have some things I need to check out first, but I have an interesting list to show you and I want to run some scenarios by you.”
“Sure,” she said, and then remembered she and Hannah were going to snoop at the Estep’s house. “I have lots to do this evening but I should be at home by ten, why don’t you come by?”
Scott grinned and waggled his eyebrows.
“Can I stay ‘til breakfast?”
“Only if you want to share the couch with Sean,” she said.
“He does have a good job,” Scott said, “and a nice car.”
Maggie bumped him with the box she was carrying.
“Don’t switch teams on me now. I’m just getting used to the idea of you in my bed.”
“Careful, now. If you keep talking like that, I’ll take it as encouragement,” he said.
“Then I’ll stop,” she said, but she was smiling.
Scott spent the afternoon following up on the twelve names on Sadie’s list. Eight of the letters had been accounted for. The recipients he was able to speak to were appalled to realize Scott knew about the letters, but quickly understood there was nothing to be gained by denying any knowledge of them. Ed’s letter was still unaccounted for, so that left three letters.
After he parted with Maggie, Scott drove up Pine Mountain Road toward the state park and then out Rabbit’s Fork Road to the home of Lieutenant Colonel Harlan “Mean” Mann, who worked for District One of the State Division of Natural Resources Law Enforcement Section. The locals just called him “the game warden,” but not within his hearing. Scott was all for the protection of wildlife and the conservation of natural resources, but Mean seemed to take a special delight in torturing the lawbreakers he caught before he arrested them. Scott was dreading the prospect of finding out Mean had received a letter telling him Cal Fischer had been hunting out of season.
Scott found Mean cutting firewood out behind the modest A-Frame log home he lived in.
“What in the hell brings you out to this neck of the woods?” Mean asked Scott by way of greeting. “I figured you’d have your hands full over there in Thornytown. I heard that witch in the post office got herself killed.”
“Hey Mean,” Scott said. “You get any anonymous letters this past week?”
Mean narrowed his eyes and leaned on the handle of his ax, the blade of which was embedded in a thick log.
“I did,” he said. “How’d you know about that?”
“Seems Margie sent some hate mail before she died,” Scott said. “What did yours say?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” Mean said. “Somebody sends me a letter with a typewritten address and no return address and it gets tossed directly on the fire. No telling what kind of terrorist nonsense might be inside.”
“You get a lot of death threats, Mean?”
“I get my share,” he said. “I’ve had my mailbox shot through more’n once, and someone set fire to my porch just before Christmas.”
“Did the sheriff look into it?”
“The sheriff would be hard pressed to find someone who didn’t want me dead,” Mean said. “I take my job seriously even though most of the people in these parts don’t think the laws apply to them. The sheriff sent that little gal out here to ask around, but nobody’s gonna tell her nothin’. She’s a pretty little gal, that one is. I wouldn’t mind to take her out back and…”
“Anyway,” Scott interrupted, “that’s all I was really interested in knowing. Thanks for your help.”
“You tell that Malcolm Behr I said he can kiss my ass,” Mean said as Scott walked away. “He thinks I don’t know he shot a deer out his bathroom window last month, but I got people tell me things. I ever catch him red-handed he’ll go to jail.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Scott said, and waved as he left.
Scott’s next stop was the Roadhouse, where Phyllis Davis was living out back in one of a string of small, shabby rooms they rented out. She was so drunk she could barely stand, but was sober enough to tell Scott she hadn’t picked up her mail in Rose Hill in almost a month.
“Did I win the lottery or somethin?” she asked him.
“No, I just think you might have received someone else’s mail by mistake,” he said.
“You wanna stay and party with me?” she asked him.
Her eyes were straining to focus, and Scott imagined she was seeing more than one of him in the doorway. The room smelled like cigarette smoke and rotten food. Scott could see an unmade bed and a blaring TV in the background behind her.
“No, thanks anyway,” Scott said.
Sadie was aggravated to see Scott and refused to open Phyllis’s post office box without a search warrant.
“I can’t do it,” she said. “It’s against the law.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow with a search warrant,” he told her. “Just don’t let Phyllis have her mail until I get there.”
“I can’t do that either and you know
it,” Sadie said. “Is this some kind of test?”
“No,” Scott said. “I’m sorry I asked. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Scott parked in front of the Eldridge Inn and walked up to the entrance. It was a grand looking Edwardian mansion built to complement the style of the college president’s former home, now Gwyneth’s, which was next door. Scott rang the bell and innkeeper Connie Fenton answered. Her face was drawn and pale, and when she saw Scott she immediately said, “Why are you here?” in a very unwelcoming tone.
“I need to ask you about a letter you may have received last week,” Scott said.
Connie’s face flushed and she stepped outside, pulling the entry door shut behind her.
“How do you know about that?” she asked.
“Margie sent letters to several people, and your name was on a list. Can I see your letter?”
“I’ve misplaced it,” she said. “I’ve looked everywhere for it but I can’t find it.”
“What did it say?”
“Gossip,” Connie said, “filthy gossip that no one would believe. I certainly wasn’t worried by it.”
“Would you care to share that gossip with me?”
“Certainly not,” Connie said. “I don’t traffic in filth, and I wouldn’t lower myself to repeat it.”
“Margie has been murdered,” Scott said. “Your letter may give me a lead on her killer.”
“Well, I didn’t do it,” Connie said. “When did it happen?”
“Monday night.”
“Well, then,” Connie said. “It couldn’t have been me. I took Lily home from the Winter Festival committee meeting and my car got stuck in her driveway. Curtis couldn’t tow it out until the next morning so I stayed all night out there. Ask her, she’ll tell you.”
“Thanks, Connie. I’m sorry to have to bother you.”
Connie slammed the inn door as she went back inside, and Scott walked back to the squad car with a weird feeling about their conversation. After thinking about it for a few minutes, it occurred to him that Connie’s reaction was odd. Instead of protesting that she couldn’t possibly kill anyone, she seemed more eager to establish an alibi for the time of the murder. With a sigh over a day that seemed like it would never end, Scott headed out to Lily Crawford’s farm to check Connie’s alibi.
Morning Glory Circle Page 18