“Back there,” he said, gesturing with the letters in his hand. “Checking my mail.” He grinned. “Nothing but bills as usual. Did I scare you?”
“Surprised me. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Sorry. So, how was it?”
“What?”
“Your day.”
“Oh. Okay. Sorry. I’m really tired. Can we talk another time?”
“Sure. No problem.”
She started up the stairs again.
“See you around,” Taylor said.
Vickie didn’t answer. She didn’t need more questions—even if they weren’t related to his job.
* * * *
“I don’t understand,” Izzy Flint said. “What kind of story?”
Diana Wozniak had planted herself in his desk chair. She leaned back now, peering up at him, a smile flickering across her ruby lips. “The kind he’s not gonna want me to print,” she told him. Opening the pocket book held on her lap, she withdrew a pack of Capri and tapped one out.
“You’re not going to…”
Before he finished the sentence, Wozniak flicked a gold lighter and ignited the cigarette. She blew a cloud of smoke in his direction. “You going to help me or what?”
Izzy waved the smoke away. “Did I understand you to say you’re going to ask him to pay you not to print the story?”
“That’s the goal,” she said with a grin.
“But that’s blackmail.”
Wozniak laughed, which brought on a spurt of coughing. “Call it what you want,” she said once she’d recovered. “I call it ‘new-style journalism.’ Much more profitable.”
“It’s also a crime.”
“Ah, come on, Flint. Grow up. I know what your kind think of my rag. There’s a difference between news and gossip. My paper thrives on gossip. The public eats it up. But the truth about gossip is it only matters to the victim. So why not profit from a guy like Stoneroad who can afford to pay to keep the story out of the clutches of the ghouls? Especially when this particular story could land the guy behind bars.”
Izzy stared at her, wondering what Stoneroad might have done that could lead to his arrest.
After another drag on her cigarette, Wozniak said, “I’m not going to tell you any more unless you agree to help me. All I need is for you to get me in to see the man. In return, you get a nice commission. If you want to run the story afterward, that’s up to you.”
“You’d take his money even if it were possible someone else might still use the story?”
“Why not? No skin off my nose.”
Izzy didn’t know how to respond to that.
Wozniak sat forward on the chair. “It’s late and I’m tired. Where can I get a room?”
“There are no hotels in Swatara Creek. There’s a motel out on the highway, but it’s kind of a flea-trap. You’d probably do better heading back toward Harrisburg.”
She grinned again. “So, no offer to put me up at your place?”
* * * *
Harry had been channel-surfing while Flora made lunches for tomorrow in the kitchen. Her father had told them good night and headed up to his bedroom to allow them some time together.
“All done,” Flora said, coming in and flopping down on the sofa next to him. Change, who had been cuddled next to him, whined at her intrusion. “Hey, he’s my boyfriend,” she said, tugging affectionately at the dog’s ear.
Harry switched off the TV. “So?”
“I made chicken salad. Is that okay?”
He grinned and pecked her on the cheek. “I wasn’t talking about the lunch. You started to tell me before about your talk with Vickie Walker.”
“Oh. Well, she wasn’t very forthcoming.”
“You didn’t think she’d admit right away she was the person at the motel?”
“Are we sure, Harry? I mean, I don’t think the girl is a hooker.”
“I’m not saying she is. But we both know the timing of her arrival in town makes it a very good possibility she could have been at the motel when Timothy Nagle died. Even if she wasn’t there for sex, the guy may have made moves which brought on his heart attack. Understandable she might have fled as a result of fright rather than guilt over anything she might have done.”
“True, But, if so, she’s a pretty good actor. Vickie was nervous and upset when I spoke to her. I think it was more attributable to her encounter earlier with Nan Calder. There was little reaction when I mentioned Nagle’s death, though she did admit to hitchhiking and said her ride dropped her off out on the highway.”
“And she walked into town from there?”
“That’s what she told me.”
“The witness probably wouldn’t be much help in a line-up, given he only saw the person from the back. We could settle it if we had a hair sample to compare with those blond strands I found in the shower.”
“Maybe. I told her we might want to talk to her again.”
“That we will.”
Flora bent over Change, soliciting a kiss from Harry. “That’s enough work talk for tonight,” she told him.
Chapter 13
Hetrick pulled his pickup in beside the State Police cruiser, switched off the engine and swigged the last of his coffee. It wasn’t unusual for him to be called in for a serious crime in his territory but, gazing round, it surprised him the locals hadn’t arrived on the scene.
A young trooper stepped up as he exited the truck. “Detective Hetrick?”
“Yes.”
“They’re waiting for you in the paddock behind the barn, sir,” he said, gesturing in the direction.
“Swatara Creek not here yet?”
The trooper gave him a perplexed look. “Uh, no, sir.”
Gravel crunching underfoot, Hetrick headed up the grade. He glanced toward the house and saw a light in a window at the rear in what he assumed must be the kitchen. A curl of smoke lifted from a chimney into a gray sky. There was a chill in the air and frost glistened in the faded grass of the yard. Hetrick drew up the collar of his coat.
Reaching the paddock he saw Doc Furman bent over a body on the ground. Sergeant Chris Runyan nodded and gave a quick two-finger salute as he noted Hetrick’s approach. Runyan was as tall as Sticks but with a heavier build. He wore the traditional PSP campaign hat with a black commando sweater over his gray uniform shirt and dark trousers.
“Morning, Sticks,” Runyan said, blue eyes in a ruddy face twinkling. “It’s been a while since we called you out of bed this early in the day,” he added with a grin.
“What have we got?”
“Male, late twenties, early thirties,” Doc said, gazing up. “Gunshot wound to the temple.”
“Jason Russell,” Runyan added. He pointed toward the house. “Lived here with his mother, stepfather, and the stepfather’s secretary.”
“I know who he is,” Hetrick said. “I’ve met Mr. Stoneroad. Who found the body?”
“From what we’ve been told, the secretary. I haven’t finished my interviews. We’ll go in when the doctor’s done here.”
“Has Aaron been notified? Unusual for his people to arrive later than us.”
Runyan shook his head. “Haven’t called him.”
Sticks gave him a puzzled look.
“With good reason,” Runyan said. “I’ll explain why on the way into the house.” He turned back to Furman. “Anything else you can tell us, sir? Time of death? Whatever?”
“He’s in full rigor, so I’d guess eight to twelve hours ago. I’ll know more after I get him back to my surgery. Small-caliber weapon fired at close range. You said you didn’t find a casing on your sweep.”
“Right. People and horses have the ground in here trampled to shit. My forensics people are on the way. Hopefully they’ll turn up more than I did on my preliminary. You can move the body after they have a look at things.” He motioned for Hetrick to follow as he started out of the paddock.
“What’s going on, Chris? Why haven’t you notified Brubaker?”
Run
yan halted and gazed at Hetrick with a troubled expression. “His daughter is a suspect.”
* * * *
“A lover’s spat?”
Stoneroad hunched his shoulders in response to Hetrick’s question. “Possibly. Or something more serious. Lydia declined to go into detail. I found her crying in her car up on the road where I first met you. She was very distraught.”
They were gathered in the writer’s office—Stoneroad, Hetrick and Runyan. Stoneroad’s wife was in a state of shock. Nan Calder had given her a tranquilizer and was putting her to bed. The officers agreed they’d talk to the women later.
“What time was this, Mr. Stoneroad?” Runyan asked.
“I’m not sure exactly. It might have been around midnight.”
“About the right time,” the sergeant said, glancing at Hetrick.
Sticks ignored him, voicing another question to Stoneroad. “What were you doing up there at that time of night?”
“I went for a walk. I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.”
“Anything to do with your earlier concerns about prowlers?”
“Prowlers?” Runyan asked. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”
Stoneroad waved a hand. “I was mistaken. An overreaction to strange new surroundings. It has nothing to do with this.”
“Are you sure? You seemed pretty certain when you called me out here that day. Why would it be less relevant than the idea Lydia Brubaker would be willing to harm a man she seemed to care about?”
“I just don’t think it matters,” Stoneroad snapped. “As to why Lydia would want to hurt Jason, that doesn’t make sense either. I’m not saying she did. I only know she was upset, apparently over an argument between the two of them.”
“We’ll need to question her,” Runyan said.
“I’ve known Lydia since she was a baby. She’s not the type to go around shooting people. I’ll need to be there when you talk to her and we need to inform Aaron.”
“No problem with that.” Runyan squared on Stoneroad. “I want to hear more about this prowler situation. I’ll decide if it’s relevant or not.”
Stoneroad sighed. “I’m telling you, it has nothing to do with this. Like I said, I’d let my imagination run wild.” He gave a little grin. “I am a writer, you know. We have a tendency to allow our imaginations free rein. I’m actually embarrassed now to admit I called Mr. Hetrick then.”
“So there haven’t actually been any prowlers?”
“No.” He swiveled his head and glanced at Hetrick. “I realized it was just my imagination. That’s why I never called the man you recommended.”
They were interrupted then as Nan Calder entered the room. “She’s asleep,” she said to Stoneroad. Walking over to Runyan, she asked, “Would you like to talk to me now? I think I’ve calmed down enough to give a sensible account.”
“That would be fine, miss. Why don’t you have a seat?”
This was Hetrick’s first look at the secretary. A slim, pretty girl close in age to the victim, she settled into a Morris chair, propped her feet up on a footstool, brushed a hand through her short blond hair and gazed at them with frank brown eyes. She wore a red turtleneck sweater, tan breeches, and riding boots. “I’m not sure where to start,” she said.
“You told me earlier you’d gone out to the barn to saddle horses,” Runyan prompted.
“Yes. Lillian and I planned a ride.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Stoneroad.”
“Oh. Of course. Go on.”
“I’d thrown the saddle on my horse. I don’t know why, but something made me look out at the paddock and I saw—I saw, Jason…” She threw her hands over her face and made a choking sound.
“Easy, miss,” Runyan said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Take your time. Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll be all right. I just need a moment,” she muttered through her hands.
Stoneroad poured a jigger of whiskey and took it to her. “Drink this, honey.”
“Can’t this wait?” he snarled at Runyan while they waited for Nan to compose herself.
“I know it’s difficult,” Hetrick told him, “but it is better to get first impressions as early as possible.”
“I think I can manage now,” Nan said, handing the glass back to Stoneroad. “It was awful seeing him like that. Jason and I aren’t—weren’t family. But we’ve all been together for some time. You know, it’s difficult.” She cast a soulful look at the writer. “I know it’s worse for you—and Lillian, of course.”
Stoneroad gave her an affectionate caress. “You’re as much family to us as you were to him,” he told her.
“What did you do after you found him?”
“I suppose I was in shock for a few minutes. I believe I may have thrown up. I just stood, looking at him. I thought he must be dead—you know, from the way he looked. Finally, I realized I must do something. I ran to the house and told Clay and Lillian. They were having breakfast. Lillian wanted to go to Jason. Clay wouldn’t allow it. I stayed with her while he went to check.”
“Who called nine-one-one?” Hetrick asked.
“No one,” Runyan said. “Mr. Stoneroad called us.”
Hetrick gave them a quizzical look. “Why call the barracks rather than nine-one-one?”
Stoneroad shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking straight. I came back in, grabbed the phone book, and looked up the number for the barracks. I don’t see why it matters who I called. You’re all here now, aren’t you?”
Hetrick gave an affirmative nod but couldn’t help wondering why an intelligent man should deviate from the obvious procedure a person would take in an emergency situation.
* * * *
Neither Stoneroad or his secretary recalled seeing Jason Russell after dinner the previous evening. Stoneroad said he’d retreated back to his office and continued revisions on a work in progress until around nine p.m. when he’d joined his wife and Miss Calder who were watching television in the parlor.
“Lillian and I did up the dishes and then watched the news and some other programs until Clay joined us,” Nan told them.
“It’s just the four of you in the house?” Runyan asked. “No servants?”
Stoneroad chuckled. “I’m a writer, not a CEO, Sergeant. People seem to harbor this odd belief all writers are millionaires. Not true. At least, not in my case.”
“Just a question, sir,” Runyan said, with a nod.
“And no one knew how Jason would be spending the evening?” Hetrick asked.
“I can’t speak for Clay or Lillian, but I assumed he’d gone out to meet Lydia. They’ve been spending most evenings together,” Nan answered.
“That would have been my guess as well,” Stoneroad said.
“Did either of you see Mr. Russell later that evening?”
“I believe we already said not,” Stoneroad said, huffily.
“Miss Calder?”
“No. Lillian and I both went to bed after the 11 o’clock news.” She glanced at Stoneroad.
“As I told you before, I went for a walk. When I returned, I went to bed, too.”
“Did either of you hear the shot?”
Calder shook her head. “My bedroom faces away from the stable and I’m a sound sleeper.”
Runyan peered at Stoneroad.
“I didn’t hear it either. I guess after my walk I slept better than usual.”
“Were either of you aware of any enemies the young man might have had?” Runyan asked.
Both were in agreement the idea was absurd.
“We’ve only been here a short while. Jason is—was, an engaging young man. Most people seemed to like him,” Stoneroad offered. “As Nan has indicated, he seemed to spend much of his time with Lydia and—up until the fight I told you about—they seemed to be getting on famously.”
“What about your relationship with him, sir? How did the two of you get on?”
Though he seemed annoyed by Runyan’s questi
on, Stoneroad put on a good face. “The boy wasn’t as ambitious as I might have liked. He couldn’t seem to settle down either in college or life. He was my stepson and, loving my wife as I do, I gave him some slack, hoping he’d eventually buckle down given a chance. His relationship with Lydia pleased me. I thought she might give him direction.”
Nan Calder lowered her head. Peripherally, Hetrick thought he might have seen her smirk.
“What about you, miss?” he asked. “Any problems with the young man?”
She cocked her head, glaring at him. “I think I’ve already made that clear. We were like family.”
And discord exists even in the best of families, he thought.
Chapter 14
Lydia Brubaker was surprised later that morning when a State Police trooper arrived at the Yoxheimer realty offices and asked for her. Surprise became fear as another thought occurred to her with the approach of the officer to her desk.
“Is it my daddy?” she asked, rising, “Has something happened to him?” Her father faced the possibility of danger every day of his working life, though it seldom occurred to her without some stimulus like the nervous, somewhat embarrassed expression on the trooper’s face.
“No. Your father’s fine, Miss Brubaker. I’ve been asked to bring you down to his office.”
“What’s going on?” Mazie Yoxheimer asked. “Aaron could have just called. Why the escort?”
“Do you want us to come with you?” her husband asked Lydia.
“That won’t be necessary, sir,” the trooper interjected. “I’m not at liberty to tell you more at this point.”
Puzzled, Lydia said she’d get her coat and be right with him. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she told her employers.
The trooper said nothing as they drove the short distance down to the police station. The blank stares of the personnel she’d known most of her life added to Lydia’s confusion as the officer escorted her through the station and into an interrogation room where her father sat between Dan Hetrick and an older trooper she didn’t know.
In Silence Sealed Page 8