Grave Errors

by Carol J. Perry

  “And now that she’s dead, he’s back in Salem. What for?” Aunt Ibby refilled our tea cups. “And why would he send that warning note to Rupert? A warning note intended for you.”

  “According to Pete, Chief Whaley has finally come around to the idea that Emily’s death might not have been an accident, so the police are seriously looking into the note and the fact that Dowgin delivered it. I don’t think it’ll take long for them to figure it all out.”

  “Meanwhile,” Dorothy said. “The whole class is investigating.”

  “Really?” One of Aunt Ibby’s eyebrows shot up. “The whole class? How so?”

  I told her about the picture of the Steelers man on the big screen and how the class had made observations about him. “It seemed to fit into my lesson plan. A good exercise in investigational skills.”

  “I guess that’s not actually meddling in police business,” she said, “but you must tell Pete what you’ve observed.”

  “Already done,” I assured her. “We’d better get back to school. Thanks for lunch.”

  “My pleasure,” she said, “and I’m so happy to have met you, Dorothy. Please come again soon. I’d love to hear about your home in Alaska.”

  “It’s nothing like this one, believe me,” Dorothy said. “And thank you. I’d love to come back.”

  We said good-bye to the cats, who, along with Aunt Ibby, followed us to the front door. O’Ryan watched from the window while my aunt engaged the alarm system but Frankie scooted out the door ahead of us.

  “Looks like she’s more of an outdoor cat,” I watched her run around the corner of the house heading for the backyard. “I’m surprised that she came inside at all.”

  “It was pretty rainy this morning.” Dorothy climbed into the passenger seat. “Cats don’t like getting wet.”

  I made a U-turn around the Civil War monument and started back to the Tabby. “True. It’s clearing up nicely. Hopefully, our early morning shoot will be successful tomorrow. Are you coming?”

  “I’m planning to. Hilda’s going to pick me up. By the way, would you mind if Dakota Berman joins us? I told him about it and I know he must have been disappointed when it got washed out today.”

  “We’d welcome him. I’ll bet he has some information to share about some of those old graves.”

  “Probably. If you can get him talking. He’s awfully quiet. I’ve tried several times to get him to share what he remembers about Emily, but haven’t had much luck so far.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Oh, he doles out little bits of information sometimes. Enough to convince me he knew her better than he’s letting on.”

  “Oh?” That was a surprise. “What do you mean? What did he say about her?”

  “Most of it was pretty general but once he said that she sometimes let him set up his easel on her balcony because the light is so much better than in his dark little place in the basement.”

  “That was kind of her.”

  “Uh-huh. She was kind. He used to use the balcony of the apartment next door while it was vacant, but when the new people moved in he asked if he could use hers.”

  “And she was okay with that?”

  “Yeah.” Dorothy sounded doubtful. “But she let him use his pass key and paint up there when she wasn’t home. I think he might have been hinting that I should do the same.”

  “What did you say?”

  “He didn’t actually ask, you know. Just hinted around about how much he appreciated it. So I just flat out told him I wouldn’t be comfortable with an arrangement like that.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t like it either.” We pulled into the Tabby parking lot with five minutes to spare before class time. “Are you thinking the arrangement with Dakota might have been more than friendly?” I asked. “Because if you are, that could be important information to share with the police.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. The thought had crossed my mind of course. He is such a handsome guy, and Emily wasn’t in a relationship with anyone else as far as I know. I really don’t have any kind of proof.”

  I locked the ’vette and we crossed the lot, stepping over remaining puddles. “You could talk to Pete about it. You don’t need to prove anything.”

  “Okay. If you think I should.”

  “I do.” We entered the Tabby’s front door just in time to see Therese, Hilda and Shannon approaching with varicolored boxes and bags indicating visits to several of Salem’s specialty shops and fashion boutiques. Together we climbed the stairs to the mezzanine where the twins were already seated facing the TV watching an old rerun of Family Feud.

  Roger stood when we approached. “Ms. Barrett, we were thinking . . .”

  “Lee,” I interrupted.

  “Right. Lee. Anyway, we were thinking maybe Ray and I could leave early today. We need to go home and change into our security guard uniforms and we still have to drive to Foxboro.”

  “You guys got the security gig? Cool.” Shannon tossed her pink-and-purple bag onto an empty chair and took her usual seat.

  “That’s great.” Helga added her bag to the pile. “But you really think you can find that man among a sea of yellow-and-black Steelers shirts?” She consulted her phone. “There are sixty-six thousand, eight hundred and twenty-nine seats in Gillette Stadium and this game is probably a sellout.”

  “It’ll be a challenge,” Ray admitted. “But it’s worth a shot.”

  “The worst that can happen is you two get to see a game free.” Therese said.

  Roger smiled broadly. “And we get paid for it. What do you say, Ms. Barrett? Lee? Can we leave early?”

  “Yes, of course. Leave whenever you like. I’m sure we’ll all be watching the game tonight.”

  “Looking for you two,” Shannon promised. “Bet you guys look cute in uniforms.”

  Neither twin replied, but couldn’t hide identical smiles.

  “Why don’t you go along now,” I told them. “We’re going to read a chapter on creative strategy. You can catch up later.” I passed out the Advertising and Promotion textbooks and reminded the twins of our early morning cemetery photo shoot. “If the game keeps you up too late, don’t worry about it. We’ll take plenty of pictures for you.”

  We’d really need some creative strategy if we were going to pull off our after-Halloween extravaganza. There wasn’t a big budget to work with so every bit of talent and ingenuity we could muster would be needed. I was pleased with the dedication and interest the group displayed—whether tramping uphill in a maybe-haunted cemetery or diving into a thick textbook. The afternoon seemed to fly by as we took notes, brainstormed and generally immersed ourselves in promotional possibilities.

  When the bell announced five o’clock, I made sure that Dorothy had a ride home, reminded everyone once again to check the weather report in the morning and, if ground fog was indicated, we’d meet on Howard Street at six A.M.

  CHAPTER 28

  Pete and I try to watch the Pats games together whenever we can. His shift wouldn’t be over until a little after the kickoff, so we agreed to meet at Greene’s Tavern. It isn’t too far from the police station and I feel perfectly at ease there, even without Pete. I know the owner, Joe Greene, and his daughter Kelly had been one of my students the previous year. I took a seat at the end of the bar, facing the door, and put my purse down on the stool beside me, saving it for Pete. I was happy to see Kelly there. She’d landed a position as an intern at a Boston TV station, but often helped out at the tavern.

  “Lee! Glad to see you.” She gave me a hug across the bar. “Pete coming later?”

  “As soon as he gets off. How are you doing? Loving the TV job?”

  “I do.” She grinned. “I learned so much from your course. Is this year’s class as much fun as we were? Therese still drops by sometimes and she says you’ve got a couple of ex-cops, a woman from Alaska, and you take field trips to the cemetery.”

  “All true and it’s a good group so far,” I told her. “Your clas
s wasn’t all fun and games, you know!”

  Her expression turned serious. “You’ve got that right, but we still learned a lot. You want a light beer while you’re waiting for Pete?”

  “Yes, please.” I looked at the Budweiser clock behind her. “Kickoff in about twenty minutes. We’ll probably have pizza or something later.”

  She looked toward the door. “Place’ll start filling up soon. Big game. Wish I could be there.”

  “The two ex-cops you mentioned? They’re twins. Roger and Ray Temple. They’re working security tonight at the stadium.”

  “Cool. They get to watch the game and get paid for it too.”

  “That’s exactly what they said.” I dropped my voice. “They’re also looking in the crowd for a particular Steelers fan Pete’s interested in talking to. We’re working it into our course on investigative reporting.”

  “That’s even cooler, though I’m surprised that Pete let you do it.”

  I didn’t know exactly how to respond to that, so I didn’t say anything.

  “Uh-oh. He doesn’t know about it?”

  “Not yet. They just thought it up today. I’m going to tell him about it tonight.” I knew I sounded defensive. “It’s definitely a long shot. What are the chances of finding one guy in all those thousands of people? Anyway they volunteered. Self-imposed homework.”

  Kelly smiled and went to wait on another customer, but came right back. “Why does Pete want to talk to the Steelers fan? What did he do?”

  I’ve said too much. That’s what happens when I meddle.

  “Probably nothing at all. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “Okay.” She made a zipper motion across her lips. “But if it is anything, you have to promise to tell me.”

  “Promise,” I said. “But I think the guy is just a regular Steelers fan who isn’t involved in anything suspicious at all. Just a random picture I took of a man at a fair.”

  I hoped very much that I was right about that.

  Kelly was correct about the place filling up fast. Patrons poured into the long room, many opting for booths and tables and quite a few at the bar. I had to explain more than once that I was saving the seat next to me, and some people didn’t seem too pleased about it. The game was well into the first quarter when I looked up and saw Pete approaching. I snatched up my purse and waved.

  “Over here, Pete.”

  “Sorry I’m late, babe. No score yet?” He sat on the stool and motioned to Kelly.

  “Not yet. Tom Brady’s been waiting for you to get here I guess.”

  “Good old Tom.” He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close for a brief kiss on the cheek. “How was your day?”

  “It went well. This class is really into learning everything they can. They did an excellent job of analyzing that picture, don’t you think?”

  “That fancy screen makes a difference. The chief said he’d like to come by the school some time and take a look at it. Okay with you?”

  “Are you kidding? We’d be thrilled with the attention. Chief Whaley. Wow.”

  “Yeah. We blew that picture up as much as we could but it’s not the same quality as yours I’m sure. Of course, the whole thing is probably nothing.” Pete thanked Kelly and sipped his beer. “The man is likely just a football fan who happened to tag along behind us.”

  “I think so too.” I took a deep breath. “The Temple twins have volunteered to do a little extra homework.” I watched his face.

  “Homework? About the guy in the Steelers shirt?” There was a little cop-voice edge to the words and he didn’t take his eyes from the TV.

  “Yeah. They had a chance to work security at the game tonight. So they’re going to try to find him. Ask to see his ticket. Get his name for you.”

  “And you said it was okay?”

  “Sure.” I sounded defensive again. “It was their idea. They wanted to do it. Anyway, what chance do they have of spotting one person in a crowd that size?” I pointed at the screen just as the Patriots scored a TD and the whole place erupted in cheers.

  We both stood up and joined in the yelling. After the extra point, the room quieted and a commercial came on. Pete gave a long sigh. “I know Ray and Roger are ex-cops. They know, more or less, what they’re doing. But the rest of your people are rank amateurs. They could get hurt. They could get you hurt. Don’t encourage any more playing detective.” His tone softened. “Dorothy’s sister is dead. You have been threatened. We may have been followed at the fair. This is not an eighth-grade science experiment. For God’s sake, Lee. I love you. I don’t want anything to happen to you and I can’t be with you every minute.”

  His look was so sincere, so forlorn, it made me feel guilty. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Just try to be more careful.” He took my hand, looking into my eyes. “Please try not to do things that can put you in harm’s way.”

  I didn’t answer right away. Was a predawn trip to a cemetery in the harm’s way category?

  Another touchdown gave me a little time to think. The Steelers scored it, so loud boos replaced cheers and all eyes were on the screen while they made the conversion. More boos.

  When things calmed down, I said, “We’re going to do some cemetery photography tomorrow for the Day of the Dead brochure.”

  “Pictures of grungy old tombstones?” He smiled. “Sounds like fun.”

  “Tombstones in the morning mist. Kind of spooky.”

  “Morning mist?”

  “Ground fog. Six-thirtyish.”

  “Photo shoot in the dark?” Cop voice back.

  “Sunrise. We’ll all be together. The whole class, along with a ghost tour guide. What could go wrong?”

  His expression softened. “Well, I guess there’s safety in numbers like that. Sounds like a damp, soggy, creepy field trip to me though. Have fun.”

  The game was at halftime by then, with the score tied seven-seven. We ordered a large onion and pepperoni pizza and turned the conversation to more pleasant and less controversial things—like football and plans to spend a weekend in Maine sometime soon.

  We both paid special attention between plays to the crowd shots and the close-ups of Foxboro fans. I guess we were halfway hoping—and at the same time doubting—that we’d see the man who’d followed us around at the Topsfield fair.

  Hilda had been right about the sea of people wearing yellow-and-black Steelers shirts. And with the fast panning action of the camera, they all looked pretty much alike to me. We did spot one familiar face though. A clear shot showed Happy Shores seated in the first row, midfield with some Patriots front office executive types.

  Pete leaned forward, concentrating on the image. “Happy looks happy all right.”

  “Who wouldn’t be with those seats,” I said. “Must be nice.”

  “They haven’t announced a new date for the ground-breaking thing yet. I heard they’re planning now to demo the old buildings first. I might take my nephews over to watch. Kids like that kind of stuff. Boom! Flattened.”

  “I watched when they were taking down St. Joseph’s Church,” I said. “It was exciting and sad at the same time. Aunt Ibby is still upset about the old Salem depot and the Paramount Theater being destroyed.”

  “There’s nothing historic or beautiful about the diaper laundry and the others. Good riddance.”

  We jumped out of our seats again as the Patriots scored again. Fourteen to seven. The mood in the tavern was upbeat. They scored again. Joe Greene bought a round for the house. There was no more talk about the graveyard or poor dead Emily or threatening notes. There was pizza and beer and the Patriots defeated the Steelers. All was right with our world.

  Pete followed me home in his car, then walked with me to the door. We both had to get up early—me especially—so he didn’t come inside. We shared a good night kiss on the back steps, and he waited until I unlocked the door and was safely inside before he left.

  O’Ryan was waiting for me, and Aunt Ibby’s li
ghts were out so I tiptoed up the creaky back stairway with O’Ryan hurrying ahead on big, silent cat feet. He was already inside, via the cat door, when I got all the locks undone and joined him in the living room.

  I’d just reached the kitchen and clicked on the light switch when my phone buzzed. I fished it out of my purse. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Barrett? Lee? This is Roger. Roger Temple.”

  “Yes, Roger. That was quite a game.”

  “Sure was. Look, I wanted to let you know we really looked for that guy every minute during the game. Ray even missed the second TD.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame. Thanks though, for giving it a good try. It was, as you said, a longshot.”

  “Yup. Sure was.” Short pause. “We didn’t find him till after the game was over.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d heard that right. “You did find him?”

  “Sure did. We’re on our way home now. Couldn’t wait to call you.” There was a shuffling noise. “Wait a minute. Ray wants to talk.”

  “Hi Lee. This is Ray.” I could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Son of a gun walked right up to me and asked directions to the P10 parking lot. I didn’t recognize him right away. Wasn’t wearing that Steelers shirt, y’know? Had a Steelers cap, but a plain shirt.”

  Roger interrupted. “We were parked over there too, so we just talked to him, friendly like, about the game, and told him we’ll walk him over there and help him find his truck.”

  Ray spoke again. “You were right. It’s maroon.”

  Roger laughed. “We were just chatting him up, telling him about being twins, and he says he’s got a brother too, but not a twin.”

  I couldn’t bear the suspense any longer. “Ray! Roger! Get to the point! Who the hell is he?”

  “His name is Billy. Actually it’s William but he goes by Billy. Billy Dowgin. How about that?”

  I sat down on the Lucite chair next to the kitchen window. “You mean, out of six thousand, eight hundred and twenty-nine people at that game, this man walked right up to you?”

  “Honest to God, Lee. That’s what happened. We’re still laughing about it. Son of a gun just walked right up to us.”