by Donna Doyle
Mrs. Knesbit’s frown, which appeared to be a permanent feature of her forehead if the creased “V” above her nose was any indication, appeared. “I’ve been a member of LifeLight all my life and we have never had theft in the congregation,” she said. “I was baptized in that church, married in that church, my children were baptized in that church and my husband’s funeral service was in that church and I know very well that until now, we have never had any issues with missing money.”
Kelly wished that Troy had come. He would have had just the right thing to say to Mrs. Knesbit, with the weight of his knowledge as a police officer to back up his words.
“That’s good,” Kelly said. She just wanted Mrs. Knesbit to leave. If she had to spend an hour and a half listening to accusations against a woman she didn’t even know—
“There she is,” Mrs. Knesbit hissed. “That’s Mia, the one who stole the money.”
Kelly looked up. The woman coming down the aisle between the seats was the same woman who had been in the library earlier that week to get paperbacks for her children. She had said she was visiting her children next weekend. That hardly constituted abandonment, although it did indicate that she didn’t have custody of them. Mia! Of course!
Kelly smiled as Mia came near. “Hello, Mia,” she said, “it’s nice to see you again.”
The young woman looked anxiously from Kelly to Mrs. Knesbit, whose expression was quite different from Kelly’s.
“I hope that Chloe was able to help you find the books you wanted for your kids,” Kelly said.
“Yes, I—she was very helpful,” Mia said before she hurried past,
“I knew that you must know her,” Mrs. Knesbit declared as if Kelly’s failure to acknowledge knowing Mia Shaw was proof of something nefarious.
“She came into the library, but I didn’t realize that she was the person you meant,” Kelly replied truthfully. “She was looking for books for her kids.”
“A likely story. I hope you keep your cash drawer locked up.”
Carmela came on board then, scanning the people in the seats to make sure that her list matched the numbers. Finding that all was in order, she nodded to the bus driver and took her seat behind him. The bus pulled away in the waning afternoon light, just as snow began to fall.
3
The Inner Circle
Because there were so many people in Punxsutawney for the festivities, the church group hadn’t been able to get hotel reservations close to town, instead, finding rooms off the closest exit they could find. The hotel was filled with tourists excitedly planning their day. When the bus group arrived to check in, the lobby was filled with people, some of whom, it was clear, had been celebrating with the mulled wine that was being offered.
Kelly refused a glass. She didn’t want anything to interfere with her enjoyment of the day to come, and getting up at three o’clock in the morning in order to be on time for the events was going to be enough of a challenge. At one point, she saw Lyola and Carmela in conversation; as they spoke, their gazes turned toward Mia Shaw, who was getting her room key.
Kelly sighed. She hoped that the two stalwart church leaders weren’t overcoming their differences merely because they’d found a convenient scapegoat in Mia Shaw. She went over to the young woman.
“Hi, Mia,” she greeted. “I hope you brought warm clothes for tomorrow.”
“I did,” Mia nodded. “It’s always so cold up here.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“I—oh, there’s the elevator, I’m going to go to my room. I want to get to bed early so I wake up on time. Good night!”
“Good night,” Kelly said thoughtfully. There was nothing odd about someone going to Punxsutawney; it was only a little over an hour away from Settler Springs. Mia had sounded as if she didn’t want to admit that she’d been here before.
Kelly decided she must be imagining it. She went to her room and put out the clothing she would wear tomorrow: a pair of Cuddl Duds to keep her warm right from the start; two sweaters, one a soft white high neck, the other a bright red print; a pair of leggings to go beneath a pair of black jeans; and two pair of socks. She also put out her handwarmers along with the boots, winter coat, hat and gloves that she would wear to keep warm.
She fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the alarm she had set went off at three o’clock in the morning. Outside, the night was still swathed in darkness. Kelly showered, washed and dried her hair, and began the process of dressing for an outdoor day in a cold climate.
The hotel had a continental breakfast for its guests in the lobby. Kelly chose a muffin and a cup of coffee and wondered if there would be a chance to have breakfast before the ceremony began. There probably wouldn’t be, she decided. She put a bagel in the toaster to tide her over and poured herself a glass of orange juice. By the time she had finished eating, others were emerging, looking bleary-eyed.
“How do you manage to look so alert?” Mrs. Knesbit, her purse firmly at her side, wanted to know.
“I’m a morning person.”
“A three a.m. morning person?”
Kelly laughed. “I’ve never been to Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney,” she said. “I’m excited to see what it’s all about.”
“It’s a lot of fun,” Mrs. Knesbit acknowledged. “Everyone has a good time. Of course, it’s better being in the Inner Circle.”
They piled onto the bus. This time, there were no assigned seats, and Carmela took the seat next to Kelly.
“Lyola promised that she’ll make up the difference,” Carmela told Kelly, sounding as if they had just recently been discussing this issue. “She said she brought a lot of cash for the trip. Bragging, but if she’s going to make up the difference, I’m not complaining. We always give the driver a nice tip.”
“It looks like he earns it.” Through the bus window, Kelly could see the endless number of cars and tour buses vying for space on the highway. As they neared Punxsutawney, Kelly saw that a number of state policemen were on hand to handle the crowd flow, along with the local police who were directing traffic. Upon approaching the parking lot for Gobbler’s Knob, the bus driver showed his parking pass, and a state policeman pointed him to his space.
The town of Punxsutawney was filled with a sense of anticipation that could be felt by everyone. Despite the darkness of the early morning, the tourists were able to see because of the spotlights. Vendors in tents were selling hot coffee, hot chocolate, donuts, all sorts of foods and an assortment of groundhog-themed souvenirs that elicited Kelly’s admiration for the lucrative imagination that the people put forth for their holiday.
They crossed the bridge that led from the town to Gobbler’s Knob, where the actual ceremony would take place. The Inner Circle, where the church group had reservations, was already crowded. Carmela had told Kelly that five hundred people would be in the Inner Circle. Kelly soon found out that five hundred people could do a lot of jostling for position.
“It’ll start with music,” Mrs. Knesbit said. “They’ll have bands playing to keep everyone entertained before the actual ceremony with Phil gets underway. I shouldn’t have drunk that second cup of coffee. I’m going to need to use one of those port-a-potties.”
Kelly wondered how Mrs. Knesbit would manage to get back into the Inner Circle once she left. Of course, she had her badge, as they all did, but a continuous swarm of bodies kept coming to Gobbler’s Knob. She tried to keep watch for Mrs. Knesbit, but it wasn’t possible; there were too many people in the way. At one point, she noticed that Carmela was not where she had been. Maybe she had to go to the bathroom, too, Kelly decided.
Then a Country-and-Western band was introduced, and Kelly stopped wondering how everyone would get back into their places. Both Carmela and Mrs. Knesbit had been to Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney before; they would manage. Kelly devoted her attention to the music that was playing.
Carmela got back to her position just before the fireworks got started shortly before seven. She wasn’t wearing h
er gloves and was rubbing her hands together to ward off the cold.
“What happened to your gloves?” Kelly asked loudly in order to be heard over the music.
“I lost one,” Carmela said. “I hope you don’t have to use the bathroom; it’s a half-hour wait. The ceremony is going to start soon.”
“Where’s Mrs. Knesbit?” Kelly asked. “She left before you but she’s not back yet. She’s going to miss the important part.”
But Carmela didn’t hear her. Kelly’s attention returned to the stage, where men in top hats were gathering. Pulling out a scroll, one read, “Prognosticator of prognosticators, Seer of seers.”
Kelly grinned. It was marvelous! The gentleman who led the ceremony knew exactly how to play the scene with just the right amount of ritual. Phil was produced, a spectacularly sized groundhog; he saw his shadow and the forecast was made. Six more weeks of winter.
As they walked back across the bridge, Kelly felt her stomach begin to growl. She was hungry for a meal, a real breakfast, her usual weekend breakfast at The Café. By now, Troy’s reserve weekend would be starting, and he’d be busy both days. Probably too busy to respond to her texts. But he’d see them eventually. She texted him the photos that she had taken, and when they returned to the town, she would send a photo of one of the many groundhog statues that populated the town.
It had been a good day. She was a little bit tired from getting up so early, but she’d be able to catch up on her sleep tonight after they arrived back in Settler Springs.
4
Home to Suspicion
There was a state police office standing like a sentry in front of their bus.
“I’m sorry, folks,” he said, his tone of voice matter-of-fact, “but you won’t be able to leave.”
Carmela stood in front of him. “And why not?” she said.
“One of your party has been found dead in the creek by Gobbler’s Knob,” the policeman said.
Mia Shaw moaned and fainted. Carmela faltered, uncertain what to do. One of the men on the bus hurried over to the young woman who had fallen to the ground.
Kelly stepped forward. “Officer, can we board the bus? It’s pretty cold and some members of our group are elderly.”
He nodded. Then his eyes noticed the stain on Kelly’s white ski jacket and his expression grew serious.
It seemed strange for a policeman to pay attention to a clothing stain, but Kelly supposed it had something to do with the discovery of the missing person. “That’s from Lyola Knesbit’s purse,” she said. “She sat beside me on the bus. Her purse, she has a leather purse, she had it re-tanned, and it brushed against my jacket. She’ll explain to you when she gets here.”
“No, she won’t,” he said. “It’s her body that was found.”
Kelly stared. “Lyola? But—but—”
Carmela came to Kelly’s side. “Lyola?” she repeated incredulously. “She—”
“Officer, can they board the bus?” Kelly repeated her request.
He gave a curt nod of assent. “I’ll need to speak to you, miss,” he said. “To all of you. Go ahead and get on the bus, I’ll call you out from the list.”
She had suspected that he would want to talk to her. Fortunately, there were others who had seen the stain on her jacket as she left the bus and she gave the state policeman their names so that they could verify her story. By the time they had all spoken to the policeman and provided him with the answers to his questions, the bus was ready to leave but it was much later than they had planned.
No one talked much on the bus. Kelly, miserably aware of the empty seat beside her, stared at the darkness outside the bus window, her thoughts in a spiral of confusion as she thought of Lyola’s comments about Mia Shaw. She had not relayed those comments to the state policeman. The corroboration of her story seemed to indicate that, despite the jacket stain, Kelly was not a suspect. But he had taken her name and her telephone number, along with everyone else’s. Mia had returned from the interview shaken. Kelly could tell, from the reactions of the other people on the bus, that Lyola had not been circumspect in voicing her suspicions about Mia Shaw and the missing money. Was it possible that someone among the group had informed the officer of those suspicions?
When they returned to the church, hours later, Kelly made certain that she waited until Mia Shaw came off the bus.
“Mrs. Shaw,” she said politely, “Please don’t hesitate to come to the library for more books for your kids.”
Mia nodded wordlessly and turned away to go to her car.
Kelly did the same, knowing that any words were inadequate. She noticed that Carmela had been almost as quick as Mia in getting to her car. That was a surprise. Carmela took a ghoulish zest in the misfortunes of others and Kelly would have expected to see her engrossed in speculative conversations with the other passengers. Maybe murder hitting so close, and to someone she knew, even if she didn’t like Lyola Knesibt, was too much reality for the reality television aficionado.
As soon as she got to her house, Kelly went inside and texted Troy. She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t answer. He didn’t expect to be home until much later on Sunday from his National Guard activities. But her message was clear: Please call as soon as you can. There was a murder.
She knew that the message seemed melodramatic, but there wasn’t any way to make an announcement of a murder sound low key. She showered and got into her pajamas and settled onto the couch with an afghan wrapped around her. It was times like this that she missed Jade, the wise feline with the all-knowing eyes, who was so adept at offering furry comfort. Maybe it was time for a new pet, she thought listlessly as she made herself a cup of chamomile tea and stared at the television screen.
She wasn’t surprised that the late news feasted upon the drama. “Murder on Gobbler’s Knob,” announced one anchorman. “The Groundhog Forecasts Death” said another. She wanted to know if anything more had been learned about the murder and so she listened to the news story as it was told by a reporter on site, looking somber with the backdrop of night in Punxsutawney behind her.
“It was supposed to be a festive day of winter fun,” the reporter intoned. “A church group from Warren, Pennsylvania came to Punxsutawney on their annual Groundhog Day outing. Instead, it turned into murder. The body of Lyola Knesbit, a member of the group and in fact, the organizer of the trip, was found in the creek late this morning. The coroner estimates the time of death at sometime around 7:30 this morning. When everyone was watching to see whether Phil would see his shadow, someone else had a different forecast in mind. Lyola Knesbit, age fifty-seven, was drowned in the river. There were signs of violence, indicating that she put up a struggle against her killer. Local authorities tell us that the creek had been frozen and only recently thawed, something of a surprise considering what a cold winter the region has been having. The police are interviewing the other members of the church group, as well as any other witnesses who may have seen anything.”
Kelly turned off the television. Carmela, she thought with morbid humor, would be annoyed that the church group’s origins would be credited to Warren across the river and not to Settler Springs. Or maybe she wouldn’t, under the circumstances. But she might be vexed that Lyola was credited as the sole organizer of the excursion.
Maybe she was being unfair to Carmela, Kelly thought wearily. At any rate, it was late, and it was time she went to bed. It was probably too late for Troy to call—
“Troy!” she answered the phone as soon as she heard the first ring, “I’m so glad you called.”
“You’re all right?”
“I’m fine. I wish you were here,” she said.
“I wish I was too. I’ll be home tomorrow night.”
“Yes . . . I suppose you’ve had a long day?”
“Easier than yours,” he said. “Mine didn’t include any dead bodies. What happened?”
“Basically, what’s on the news.”
“I haven’t seen any news. We’ve been on exercises all
day. I saw your text and so I called as soon as I could. You have me worried about you.”
“It’s too much to explain in a phone call. One of the organizers of the trip was found dead. Drowned. She—the state police are investigating. They took our names and numbers. They—I think they suspected me because of the stain on my jacket but I told them that Mrs. Knesbit had sat beside me, and that’s where the stain came from, she had her purse re-tanned—”
“Slow down, Kelly,” Troy said, his voice reassuringly steady. “I’m having trouble following this. I don’t understand what a stain on your jacket has to do with the victim’s purse. No one could suspect you of the murder. That’s not the case, is it?” he asked sharply.
“No, I already talked to the policemen. Other people saw the stain and it was before she was found. Besides, she was drowned, they aren’t looking for bloodstains. I know that none of this makes sense, I just can’t get my thoughts organized. I’m—I don’t know, I can’t figure it out.”
“The state police will figure it out, babe,” he said. “That’s their job.”
He sounded gentle over the phone as if he were trying to reassure her. She wasn’t used to that reaction from him. “I know. But we haven’t had the best dealings with the state police, have we?”
“We’re not trying to solve this murder,” he said. “It’s not the same. Kelly?” he said when she was silent. “Kelly, we’re not trying to solve this, are we?”
“No, of course not. I just don’t understand what happened. It’s crowded, I know, and there’s no way to keep tabs on everyone, Mia Shaw fainted when she heard that someone from the group had been killed—we didn’t know who it was right away, the officer didn’t say, I suppose that was deliberate, and Lyola suspected—told me that she suspected—that Mia had stolen some of the bus money. I’m not sure I believe her, but there’s money missing—”
“Kelly,” he interrupted in that gentle voice that she found so unfamiliar. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? I’ll pick up food on the way, and we’ll go to my place, okay?”