by Donna Doyle
She looked tired. Troy wished he could do something about that, but the tiredness, he knew, came from inside. He could only think of one thing that might help.
“Do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
He handed her a house key. “Can you stop by my house and take Arlo out? I don’t want Mrs. Sturgis going outside in the dark. I don’t need a broken hip on my conscience.”
“Sure,” she brightened. Maybe time with Arlo would lift the gloom.
When she went into Troy’s house, Arlo greeted her with his usual glee, rubbing his head against her knees as she hooked his collar to his leash. “Come on, Arlo,” she said. “Let’s go for a walk. Maybe that’s what I need.”
Arlo barked in agreement and they set off. The snow was falling steadily. The snowplow went by. She thought again of Mrs. Stark summoning the borough crew to shovel the snow at the library and her ire rose. Mrs. Stark had been rude to a patron. It didn’t matter that the patron was a teenager. But Kelly knew that, to Mrs. Stark, not only was Lucas a Krymanski, but he hadn’t heeded the order of the fates to accept his status and go to jail for a murder he hadn’t committed. Mrs. Stark’s son was now in prison and instead of blaming Scotty Stark, his mother saw Lucas as the culprit.
As they turned the corner, she saw someone walking on the sidewalk, coming toward her. He was wearing a winter jacket. His head was covered by a knitted hat and a hood pulled low upon his forehead, and a scarf obscured the lower half of his face. Arlo, spotting him, let out a low growl.
“Hey, lady, keep your dog away,” the man said.
“He’s not bothering you,” Kelly said. She knew better than to say that Arlo wouldn’t bite. Troy had told her that under certain circumstances, Arlo would bite. Furthermore, Troy’s lecture had gone on, a woman walking alone in the dark should never let a stranger know that a dog wouldn’t bite. She had laughed at Troy’s excessive caution.
She wasn’t laughing now. The man was staring at her as if he were trying to place her in his memory. Which made no sense; she didn’t know everyone in town, but this man was definitely a stranger. He even looked like a stranger, as if he didn’t belong, or didn’t have a place to call home.
Then he turned away and continued. She saw him walking toward the road leading to the opposite end of town. It was a strange night for a walk.
“Except for you and me, Arlo,” she said as they headed back to Jefferson Avenue.
She filled Arlo’s bowl with food and refreshed his water. She knew she shouldn’t pry, but she was curious about Troy’s personal life and even though she ate at his place upon occasion, there was rarely time to do anything but talk or eat. She didn’t know what music he played or what books he read, what magazines he subscribed to. Yet she felt as though, on some level, she knew him well.
That wasn’t possible. And prying was inexcusable. “Good night, Arlo,” she said.
Just as she was opening the door to leave, she felt the doorknob turn. She stepped back just in time to avoid being knocked away from the opening door.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” Troy said.
“We went for a walk,” Kelly answered, feeling guilty, even though she hadn’t actually been caught perusing the books on his shelf.
“Thanks. I haven’t had much time lately to give Arlo exercise.
“What are you doing back home? Aren’t you all that’s keeping Settler Springs’ streets safe, at least until midnight?”
“I forgot my phone this morning,” he answered. “I want to call Sergeant Cavendish and find out if they’ve learned anything new. Did you get a chance to talk to Mia Shaw?”
“I thought you didn’t want me to talk to her!”
“I didn’t want you to make a big deal about her needing clearances, that’s all. I can’t talk to her, Leo might get upset. He’s worried about her, I can tell.”
“I’ll try to talk to her as soon as I can. I’m not sure what excuse I’ll give if you don’t think I should bring library books.”
“Use whatever excuse you can think of,” Troy said. “Leo got a call today. I don’t know what was being said on the other line, and he closed the office door so that Kyle and I couldn’t overhear. He never does that. Afterwards, he was rattled.”
“You think it’s about Mia?”
“I don’t know what it’s about but . . .” Troy sighed. “I feel like I don’t know anything,” he said.
“Here’s something else you don’t know. When Arlo and I were walking, a guy passed us. He was wearing a winter jacket, the hood low on his head, and a scarf tied around the lower half of his face.”
“Describes anybody who’s out walking in this mess.”
“Arlo growled at him.”
She knew that Troy placed a great deal of faith in his dog’s intuition. Arlo, she knew, didn’t growl indiscriminately.
“Did he?” Now she had Troy’s undivided attention.
“He told me to keep my dog away.”
“And you said?”
“I said he wasn’t bothering anyone.”
Troy nodded, satisfied.
“It sounds like . . . I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but he was dressed the way Carmela described the guy who had Mrs. Knesbit’s purse.”
She expected Troy to jeer at her theory, but he just looked thoughtful.
“He looked like . . . he looked like he didn’t belong. Like he might not have a place of his own.”
“Homeless?” Troy asked, recalling that Carmela had described the man in Punxsutawney as a hobo.
“Not exactly, just . . . I don’t know. Like he didn’t belong.”
Troy didn’t press her for more details. “Did you notice anything about him? What color was the jacket? Features? Height? Build?”
“It’s impossible to tell his build, he was wearing a winter jacket. He gave the impression of being slender, though. Not real tall, not short. Not as tall as you. Taller than me. What are you doing?”
Troy had taken out his notebook. “Writing this down. Shorter than six feet, two inches, taller than five feet, six inches. Dark jacket. Go on.
“I couldn’t see any hair coming out from the hood, so I’m guessing it’s cut short. He had a bony face.”
“You could see that?”
“There’s a street light just after the turn. I couldn’t tell you if his eyes are blue or green or brown, but I could see the contours of his face.”
“Facial hair? Beard, mustache?”
She shook her head. “If he did, it was pretty wispy. He looked clean shaven. But . . .”
Troy waited.
“He looked like he didn’t belong, but he knew where he was going.”
“Which direction?”
“He went toward Locksley. There’s not much out that way.”
“Except for the high-rise.”
14
News from the Krymanski Front
The snow let up overnight, and Kelly and Troy were able to meet for their run on the Trail. Although there were piles of snow on the sides of the pathway, and much more heaped on the grounds on either side, more runners were out, taking advantage of the relative break in the weather. As usual, Kelly and Troy ran together, but without conversation. That could wait until breakfast.
They were in their usual booth, eating their usual meals on a Saturday morning, when Tia Krymanski came out of the kitchen.
“Mind if I sit down for a minute?”
“Not at all,” Kelly said, making room on her side of the booth. “Is everything okay?”
Tia shrugged. “I have a rebellious seventeen-year-old on my hands,” she said, “so we’re in a state of war. Carrie’s having a lousy senior year. She lost her job at Sloppy Joe’s and can’t pay her car insurance. She’s furious that I won’t pay it for her.”
“She lost her job?” Kelly repeated. Carrie seemed to be a responsible eldest, mindful of her role. “That doesn’t sound like her.”
“I called her boss. He said she wasn’t showing
up to work. He had to let her go. He sounded apologetic. I don’t blame him for canning her. She and her boyfriend broke up and she’s taking it real hard. But that’s not why I’m over here bugging you two.”
“You’re not bugging us. You’re welcome to join us if you can.”
Tia shook her head. “I’m just taking advantage of the first slowdown this morning. I’ll get back to the kitchen. But I wanted to tell you that Lucas wanted to talk to you yesterday. He went into the library, but he saw Mrs. Stark and so he went right back out again.”
“Lucas wanted to tell me something?”
“Yeah. He said that he’s been hearing things about the parking lot at the senior citizen high-rise. Lucas thinks that, ever since you and Troy solved the Halloween murder, he’s part of a detective team.”
“What’s he hearing?” Troy asked.
“A couple of his friends have started keeping an eye on the place. They say that drugs are being dealt in the parking lot.”
“If that’s true,” Troy chose his words carefully, giving no indication that Lucas’ observation was not the first time that suspicion had been voiced, “then his friends need to stay away from there.”
“That’s what I told him,” Tia said, standing up and taking their empty cups in hand. “But it might have more force if it comes from you, Troy. Would you mind saying something? I don’t want him to feel like a little kid getting scolded and I don’t want him to think he’s part of a SWAT team.”
“Sure,” Troy said. “I’ll say something. Tell him to stop by the station on Monday afternoon, after four o’clock.”
On Monday afternoon, Troy was wishing that he’d told Lucas to stop by later. Leo was working on reports for that night’s council meeting and he was still in the office when Lucas opened the door.
“Hey, Lucas, how’s it going?”
“Okay. Carrie and Mom are fighting all the time. I wish I had brothers.”
Troy grinned. “I had brothers. You think we didn’t fight?”
“Were you the oldest?”
“No, I was the youngest. I was the one who got beaten up.”
“What did your mom say?”
“’Take it outside.’”
“She didn’t yell at you?”
“I guess she figured it wouldn’t have done any good. So . . .” Troy’s gaze cut to the office where Leo was working. He beckoned for Lucas to sit down on one of the chairs farthest from the office. “Your mom says your friends have noticed some funny stuff going on at the parking lot of the high-rise.”
“Yeah,” Lucas said eagerly. “Not every night. But sometimes, a car will pull up in the lot. Then other cars come, and they leave.”
“What kind of car?”
“Some old beat-up thing.”
“Do they recognize the driver?”
Lucas shook his head. “It’s dark, and hard to see. But they don’t recognize the car.”
“License plate number?”
“It’s dirty.”
“Dirty? You mean like a personalized plate?”
“No, it’s got mud on it and it’s hard to read.”
Troy felt his senses quicken. That ruse was a tried-and-true way to conceal a license number from view.
“Does the driver get out of the car?”
“Sometimes, but no one knows who he is. He’s some stranger.”
The quickening senses began to speed up. “How’s he dressed?”
“I dunno. Just a winter jacket. Corey said that they can’t see his face because he has his hood pulled down low and he has a scarf around his neck and his mouth. One time, he pulled the scarf away, but that was because some woman showed up and started yelling at him. He got mad at her, Corey said, and told her to get the—to get lost and not to forget what he’d told her.”
“Not to forget what he’d told her? Any ideas what that might have been?”
Lucas shook his head. “Corey didn’t know. He just said she looked like a druggie herself. Real skinny—”
Troy was intent upon Lucas and didn’t see Leo come out of his office.
“This woman,” Leo said, “Do you know who she is?”
Lucas was alarmed to be talking to the acting chief of police. “No,” he said. “No, sir,” he added.
“Relax, son. I heard what you were telling Officer Kennedy and if there’s something the police need to know, well, I’m glad you’re telling us.” Leo’s tone was relaxed avuncular. But Troy guessed that Leo was concerned about his daughter.
“Tell your friends that the police appreciate the intel,” Troy said.
Lucas’ eyes sparkled with excitement. This was better than a video game.
“But,” Troy said, “tell them that we’ll take it from here. I don’t want to see any of your friends hanging around the parking lot, you hear? It could be dangerous.”
“You really think so?”
“Daffodil Alley wasn’t enough excitement for you?” Troy asked.
Understanding dawned. “I don’t want that ever again.”
“Good. Tell your friends that we appreciate their detective work. Now they need to stay away.”
“Is something going down?”
“It will be,” Leo said resolutely.
“Now what?” Troy asked after Lucas had gone and he and Leo were alone in the station.
“I need to talk to Mia,” Leo said. “And I want you there with me.”
“You want me there when you talk to your daughter?”
“If she’s using again,” Leo said, his face showing pain at the thought, “I’m going to react like a father. I’ll need you to be there to react like the law.”
Troy drove. Leo was silent. Whatever Mia Shaw was going to tell them was unlikely to bring them any closer to solving the Lyola Knesbit murder, Troy thought, but he admired Leo for having the courage to pursue his fears rather than ignore them.
“Why don’t you call her and ask her to come out,” Troy suggested. “She’s not going to like having the cops show up at her door.”
“It won’t be the first time cops have shown up at her door.”
“Leo—you don’t have to make this harder on yourself.”
“I swore when she went into rehab this last time and we got custody of the kids that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes. I wouldn’t close my eyes; I wouldn’t turn my head. I’d face whatever had to be faced.”
But when they knocked on the door and Mia answered, her face revealed bewilderment, not guilt. “Dad?”
“Hi, baby,” Leo said. “Can we come in?”
Mia opened the door wider. “Sure. Is everything okay? The kids?”
“They’re fine. Your mom will be feeding them supper soon. We’re here on police business.”
Mia showed them into her apartment. She didn’t have a lot of furniture, and what was there was obviously second-hand, but a cursory glance didn’t reveal any indications of drug use that Troy could see.
“Mrs. Shaw,” Troy said, taking his cue to start the interrogation from Leo’s silence, “we’ve learned that you were seen at a location that’s rumored to be a place where drugs are sold.”
Mia looked to her father. “I’m not using anymore,” she said.
“Mrs. Shaw,” Troy repeated, “you were seen.”
“Not to buy anything.”
“But drugs are sold there?”
“Probably. Yes, I think so. If Travis is there, then drugs are there.”
“Travis? He’s here in Settler Springs?” Leo demanded. “What’s he doing here? He’s violating probation.”
“Since when did Travis ever do what he was told to do?”
“Mrs. Shaw,” Troy said, “is Travis Shaw a drug dealer?”
“I—he used to be. Then he went to prison. Dad, you know all this, why are you here like this is an arrest?”
“It’s not an arrest, Mrs. Shaw. We just have some questions and we think you can provide answers.”
“Why isn’t Travis back in Punxsutawney?” Leo wanted t
o know. “When he was released from prison, that’s where he went, isn’t it?”
Mia looked away. “I suppose. Yes. He went home.”
“So why is he here?”
Leo’s daughter exhaled a long, ragged breath. “He—he left, after the murder.”
“The murder? Why did he leave? Mia, did your ex-husband kill Lyola Knesbit?”
15
Travis Shaw, Suspect
The atmosphere in the small living room was charged with all the pathos of a family tragedy, layered with the complications of a crime. Troy pitied both father and daughter as they worked their way through their roles and their past mistakes.
“I don’t know!” Mia cried out. “I don’t know! Mrs. Knesbit didn’t like me; she thought I was taking the money out of the drawer. But I wasn’t, Dad, I didn’t steal it!”
The money wasn’t at issue right now, not as far as Troy was concerned. “But you know he was in Punxsutawney until after the murder?”
She nodded.
“You saw him there?”
“He told me to come up. I didn’t want to, but he said if I didn’t, he’d take the kids.”
“He’ll never get those kids. No court would let him.”
“Dad, I don’t mean through the courts. He meant that he’d take them. I can’t take that chance. So, when there was an extra space for the bus trip, I went.”
“And?”
“I met him. He said to meet him on the bridge to Gobbler’s Knob. So, I left the Inner Circle and met him. He wanted money. I didn’t have any. He said I’d better get some or he’d take the kids. I didn’t know what to do.”
“What did you do, Mia?” her father asked in a low voice.
“I went looking,” she said, her voice low. “I knew where I could find someone.”
“A dealer?”
She nodded. “I was so frightened. Travis—he gets crazy sometimes and he’ll do anything. I just couldn’t handle it.”
“Never mind your ex-husband, Mrs. Shaw. What did you do? What time was it?”
“I’m not sure. Around six in the morning or so, I guess. I didn’t feel like watching the ceremony. I didn’t feel like anything. I just kept walking and walking. There were so many people . . . I didn’t want to leave the crowds because I was afraid of what Travis might do. Of what he might make me do.”