In a Midnight Wood

by Ellen Hart

  “I’ll come.”

  “Good. I want this guy caught and put in jail—and throttled.” He cut the line.

  Never a dull moment in the Tamborsky family thought Dave as he headed back out to his SUV. At least he didn’t need to worry about Pollard. The guy didn’t know a damn thing.

  * * *

  “What’s going on next door?” asked Dave as he walked into his father’s house a while later. He could smell bacon and Dawn liquid soap, so he assumed his dad had finally gotten around to making himself a regular breakfast and done some cleaning.

  “Mrs. Mickler’s moving.” He was seated on the couch, reading the paper.

  “Oh, right. I knew that.”

  “She hired Will Lowry and his crew to help clean out her house.”

  Dave was glad to see that his father had calmed down. Dropping down on the other end of the couch, he said, “Where are your car keys?”

  “In my pocket. That’s why I figured the kid hot-wired it. These young punks today with nothing to do but watch video games and get up to stuff they have no business doing. Something should be done about them.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Dave. “So when was the last time you saw the car?”

  “It was right out front, parked on the street, like it always is. When I got back from downtown, I realized it was missing.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Just around. I need my exercise. You and your sister tell me that all the time.”

  “Was it outside when you left?”

  “Of course it was. Where else would it be?”

  “Okay, so if it was, and it was missing when you got home, someone must have taken it while you were gone. So how long were you downtown?”

  “Hell if I know. An hour?”

  This was getting Dave nowhere. He wondered if someone might have been watching the house, waiting for his dad to leave. Of course, in broad daylight, they’d have to break into the car before they could hot-wire it. Unless? “Was the car locked?”

  “I always lock my car. I never used to. Hell, when I was a kid, we never even locked the house. This is a different world.”

  The front door opened, and Dave’s sister walked in.

  “Well, this calls for a celebration,” said Dave’s dad, rising to give her a hug. “My two kids here at the same time.”

  Elaine carried several grocery bags. “Got everything on your list.”

  “Thank you, sweetie.”

  Dave took the bags and carried them into the kitchen. As he’d suspected, the dishes had been washed and stacked in the drying rack. Elaine came in behind him and gave his arm a squeeze. “How you doing, Davey?”

  She lived forty miles away in Kilgore Township. She was married with three kids, a husband, and full-time job, so she didn’t make the trip back to Castle Lake as often as she used to.

  Peeking into the living room, Dave saw that his dad had turned on the TV. Wanting to talk privately to Elaine, he moved over to the kitchen counter and leaned against it. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” she said, making room for another box of Cap’n Crunch on the lower shelf.

  “Have you noticed that Dad’s become kind of forgetful?”

  “Kind of? He’s got a real problem. That’s why I made him that doctor’s appointment this afternoon. It’s why I’m in town.”

  “I didn’t know anything about a doctor’s appointment. He never mentioned it.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me. He hates doctors. I should have called you about it, but … it’s been kind of crazy around our house.”

  “Have you been in Dad’s study lately? I happened to walk in there the other day. He’s got bills on his desk that go back a couple of months.”

  “That’s another reason I’m here. We’re going to pay them. Today. I won’t leave until they’re in my hand.”

  Dave felt guilty. He should have taken care of it himself. He’d always leaned on his older sister to lead in family matters, though that was no excuse. “So what do you think is wrong with him?”

  “Maybe it’s as simple as a vitamin deficiency, or maybe he’s developing some kind of dementia. He still remembers the past pretty clearly, so mostly, it’s his short-term memory that’s affected.”

  Now came the big question. “Do you think it’s safe for him to live alone?”

  “That’s what we need to find out. Maybe they have a pill or something that can help him. I hope so. I’ve thought about asking him to come live with us. I even talked to Jason about it, but it just won’t work.”

  “I suppose, if worse comes to worst, I could move back home.”

  “Your call, Davey. All I know is, we may need to have a little family meeting one of these days to hash it out. None of this is going to be easy—for any of us.”

  The landline gave a shrill ring. Grabbing the receiver from the phone on the wall, Dave said hello.

  “Mitch?” came a raspy voice.

  “No, this is his son, Dave.”

  “Oh, David, hi. It’s Stan Rankala over at the Liquor Mart. Say, your dad was in this morning. He brought back his empty case of Leinenkugel. He asked me to carry a new case out to his car, put it in the backseat while he looked around. Which I did. He was going to come pay at the cash register when he was done. But he never did. I looked around for him just now. I mean, his car’s still outside, but he’s not here.”

  Dave put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “His car’s over at the Liquor Mart.”

  Elaine looked off toward the living room and shook her head.

  “I’ll be over in a few minutes to pay you and drive the car home.”

  “Thanks, David. Sorry for the miscommunication.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Returning to the living room, Dave told his dad about the call.

  “You’re saying I left the car outside the liquor store?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh God,” he whispered, his mouth beginning to quiver. “I don’t know how.… I didn’t—”

  For the first time, it penetrated Dave’s consciousness what a confused old man his father had become, and it broke his heart. “I’ll take care of it.”

  On his way out the door, his dad offered a muted, “Thanks, David. You’re a good boy.”

  28

  As Jane sat in a booth at the White Star Cafe, sipping coffee and looking out the window, she received a phone call from Emma. There was a maintenance problem at the house she needed to deal with. She didn’t offer details, but said she was going to be at least half an hour late. She apologized, asking Jane if she wanted to cancel. Since Jane was hungry, she offered to wait.

  When Emma finally arrived, she ordered a bowl of the chicken wild rice soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Since the entire menu was available all day, Jane ordered herself the meatloaf sandwich on rye.

  Jane wanted to know how Emma’s dinner with Scott had gone, so that was her first question.

  “Not good. The only reason I went was because he promised he wouldn’t drink, but I think he was already pretty well-oiled when I got there. And then, while we were eating, I got that same feeling again—like he wasn’t going to let me leave. All this profession of undying love, it’s ridiculous. We’ve only known each other a couple months.”

  “You need to stay away from him.”

  “You think? But get this: He’s been following me. He even admitted it. When I called him on it, said he was a stalker, his only response was that I was being overly dramatic.”

  “You’re leaving soon, right?”

  “Not soon enough.”

  “While you’re here, I think you should be extra careful. Don’t go out alone at night.”

  Her shoulders sank. “What a way to live.”

  “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

  “Yeah, thanks. I did figure something out last night. Scott’s mood seems to tank when I bring up Sam and the argument they were having before he died. It happened both nights. I mean, it wasn’t
immediately noticeable. More of a slow burn. Makes me wonder what really went on, you know? What if he did have something to do with Sam’s death?”

  “I’m meeting with his father tomorrow.”

  “You really are working hard at this, aren’t you.”

  Jane was always surprised, and a little annoyed, when friends didn’t see her as a serious investigator. “Since we’re talking about Sam, I’d like your thoughts on one of your classmates: Becca Hill.”

  Emma cocked her head. “Boy, I haven’t heard that name in ages.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “We weren’t close or anything, but yeah, I knew her. We both worked on the school paper. How come you’re interested?”

  “It’s just a tip I’m chasing down. I really can’t say more.”

  The food arrived, diverting their attention for a few minutes. Eventually, the conversation came back to Becca.

  “She was funny. And super smart,” said Emma. She nibbled at her grilled cheese. “She did kind of change her senior year. Became much more serious and far less social.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “I figured she was working extra hard to pull down straight As so she could get into a good college, one with a generous scholarship.”

  “Did she date?”

  “I think she was with Gordy Taylor her junior year. I don’t recall her with anybody her senior year, though I could be wrong.”

  “Did she have a good reputation?”

  “Never heard anything bad about her.”

  Jane found her meatloaf tasteless. She added some ketchup, hoping to make the sandwich more palatable. “What about Dave Tamborsky and Monty Mickler? What are your thoughts on them?”

  “You mean back in high school? Dave was a football jock, so, on principle, I didn’t like him. He was built like a brick wall. Very muscular. Beyond that, I mean, I’m not saying the guy was stupid, but he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack. It always seemed to me that he hero-worshiped his dad. He brought him up a lot. Kind of bragged about him. I thought it was pathetic.”

  “And Mickler?”

  “People called him Dave’s Shadow. Honestly, I don’t remember that much about him. He kind of faded into the woodwork. Girls liked him, though. He was cute enough. I think he was thrown off the basketball team his junior year. That was his only claim to fame.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No idea. But I did see a lot of guys giving him back slaps, like he was some kind of hero bro.”

  Just as they were finishing their lunch, Emma’s phone rang. She listened for a moment, then said she’d come right away.

  “I’m sorry. It’s a guy with another bid on the house repair. I have to meet him.” As she dug through her purse looking for her wallet, Jane said, “This is on me.”

  “Really?”

  “One last question before you go. Does the word ‘dual’ mean anything to you?”

  “Like dual carburetors? Or duel as in a fight?”

  “Either.”

  “Gosh, nothing,” said Emma, sliding out of the booth. “I can’t imagine what either would have to do with high school.”

  “Okay,” said Jane. “Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I’ve got a meeting with the reunion committee heads at seven, so it will probably be late before I get home. I’m sure you and Cordelia will find something fun to do.”

  “I’m sure we will,” said Jane pushing her half-eaten sandwich away. When the waitress showed up again, Jane was still hungry. “What do you recommend for dessert?”

  “Pie,” said the woman. “It’s way better than the meatloaf. I saw an apple pie come out of the oven a few minutes ago. It’s especially good with ice cream.”

  “Then I’ll have apple pie à la mode. And a refill on coffee.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Jane took out her phone and was about to call Cordelia to see if she was up and around when Jim Hughes walked past the booth. He was dressed more casually today, in a red polo shirt and jeans, and appeared to be looking for an empty table. There were plenty of them when Jane had first arrived, but glancing around now, she saw that the cafe was full up. “Jim?” she called, catching his eye.

  “Oh, hi,” he said, smiling down at her. “Ms. Lawless. Nice to see you again.”

  “Why don’t you join me?”

  “Actually, I’m meeting my wife for lunch. I’m a little early.”

  “I’m about to eat dessert, but then I’ll be out of here. You might as well take the booth.”

  “Really?” He took one last look around and then sat down. “That would be great. So,” he said, folding his hands on the table and looking around, “how’s your search for answers going?”

  “Slow.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “Since you’re here, there’s a question I’d like to ask you.” There was no point in setting up a recorded interview. The restaurant was too noisy, and besides, she didn’t hold out hope that he’d know any more than Emma.

  “This must be my day for answering questions,” said Jim. “The police called me down for an interview this morning. Not sure why they wanted to talk to me, but I didn’t see any reason not to do it. I don’t think they learned much. Anyway, shoot. How can I help?”

  Jane pulled her coffee mug in front of her. “Thinking back to your high school days, does the word ‘dual’ mean anything to you? Dual as in two. Or duel as in a fight.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “No.”

  The waitress came over to take his order.

  “I’m famished. My wife won’t mind if I have a little something while I wait for her. How about the broccoli cheese soup? Just a cup. And coffee. If you could start a new check for me—”

  The waitress nodded, writing it down and then walking back behind the counter.

  “You know,” he said, almost laughing, “there is one thing that comes to mind, though I doubt it’s what you want.”

  “Please,” said Jane.

  “Well, in my junior year history class, we were assigned to write a short paper on something that used to be legal but had become illegal. I chose cocaine. It was really interesting doing the research. I can still remember some of it. Another guy wrote his paper on prostitution. That was a hoot. One of the girls wrote about slavery. Sam, he was in the class, too. We used to study together. Anyway, he wrote his paper on dueling. He actually said to me that he thought it should still be legal.”

  The waitress set a mug of coffee in front of him and the apple pie à la mode along with a clean fork in front of Jane.

  “I wonder,” she said out loud, picking up the fork.

  “Kind of farfetched to think it had anything to do with his death,” said Jim.

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Of course, if anyone was up for something risky like a duel, it would have been Sam.”

  As Jane dug into the pie, she realized she had another question. “You knew Monty Mickler?”

  “Still do. We belong to the same church.”

  “Do you know why he was kicked off the basketball team?”

  “Wow, you really are digging into the past.” He leaned back as the server brought his soup. “Sure, I know. See, Mickler had this secret gambling operation all through high school. Mainly football games. It’s how he made money. I believe it started out with guys placing bets on our high school teams, but that ended pretty quickly because we always lost. So he broadened his scope. Every Sunday during the fall and early winter, there were two NFL games on offer. The Vikings and whoever they were playing that weekend, and the Packers and whoever they were playing. I placed a couple of bets. Won once, lost once. That was enough for me. But I know lots of guys did it regularly. At the time, Monty was one of the stars on the basketball team. People always saw his buddy, Tamborsky, as the jock because he was so big, but Monty was the real athlete. He was tall and lean and fast, and his ball skills were amazing. He would have lettered for sure, but the
n one of the coaches found out about the gambling thing, and that was the end of Monty. I believe he was suspended from school for a while, too. When he came back, he had to act contrite, but the bets started right back up again.”

  Jane couldn’t imagine that Monty’s little gambling operation had anything to do with Sam’s murder. Still, she needed to make a note of it.

  “You think it’s important?”

  “I have no idea,” said Jane, finishing her pie. “But I’m grateful for your time.”

  “If you have any other questions,” said Jim, stirring his soup. “You know where to find me.”

  29

  Kurt sat on a low, flat rock by the river. It was the place he always visited when he needed to sort through his feelings or come to terms with his worries. The police interview was set for tomorrow morning. It appalled him to think that he was about to lie, and lie, and lie some more, as he’d done for years. And yet, if he didn’t, if he broke down and told the truth, not only would his life be ruined, but so would the life of everyone else who’d been in the woods that morning. Not that they weren’t all guilty.

  Picking up a bunch of stones, he chucked them, one at a time, into the water. Maybe, instead of thinking, he should try to empty his mind. Wasn’t that the way to enlightenment?

  Hearing a sound behind him, he turned to find a woman making her way out of the trees. It took a moment to remember who she was. He’d only met her once, at Emma’s party. She was an attractive older woman, with eyes the color of lilacs. He couldn’t be sure, and nothing had been said, but he had the feeling she was gay. She’d spent some time chatting up the mayor, another woman he’d always suspected might be gay, though things like that weren’t talked about in Castle Lake except in whispers. Jane was the last person he expected to see out by the river. He hoped that, after a brief hello, she’d keep on walking.

  “Hey,” he said, offering her a smile he hoped was convincing.

  “Kurt, hi.”

  “You out for a stroll?”

  She moved to the edge of the water and looked around. “No. I wanted to do a little exploring. I’ve been doing research on Sam Romilly’s murder for a podcast I work for in Minneapolis.”