Shadows on a Maine Christmas (Antique Print Mystery Series Book 7) (21 page)

Buying Trotting Horses on the Androscoggin.
Full page black-and-white wood engraving drawn by James E. Kelley (1855–1933) for
Harper’s Weekly
, March 20, 1880. Kelley, a noted sculptor and artist remembered for his Civil War and other illustrations of American historical events, was also one of the founders of the Art Students League of New York. Illustration shows seven teams of horses racing sleighs on the frozen Androscoggin River in Maine. Men and boys (one African American) cheer on their favorites, and insets show a horse being trained by pulling a hay wagon on skids (“The Jumper”), a woman feeding a colt (“The Foster Mother”), and a man checking the legs of a horse while a woman with a whip holds the horse’s bridle (“The Fair Jockey”). Small, almost invisible, tear in margin above print, extending about one inch into picture. Page: 15 x 10 inches. Price: $40.

As they
followed the two ambulances and the tow truck out of the driveway, Maggie realized that in all the excitement she hadn’t called Will. She’d told him she’d meet him at home soon. Banana splits were now the furthest thing from her mind. She pulled out her phone.

“Hello, Maggie? Where are you? Aunt Nettie and I’ve been worried.”

“I’m with Owen. A lot’s happened. I’ll fill you in as soon as I can. We’re trying to find Jon and Zelda.”

“I thought you were coming home after you talked with Owen.”

“I was, but there was an emergency. I’ll tell you all everything as soon as I can. But I need to stay with Owen now. Don’t eat all the ice cream!” Maggie slipped the phone back into her pocket.

Owen glanced over at her. “Trouble with Will?”

“He doesn’t like me getting involved with criminal cases. Especially when Nick told me to stop asking questions.”

Owen grinned. “You? Stop asking questions? The man’s a bit unrealistic. Do you need to go, then?”

“We need to find Jon and Zelda,” said Maggie. “I’m here for the duration. Where are we heading?”

“Jon turned toward town when he left the driveway. He could be anywhere. But I’m hoping he headed for his own home. We’ll go there first and see if his truck’s in the drive.”

“Wouldn’t going home be too obvious?”

“Jon’s a good kid. Attends church, does what his parents want him to. He’s never been in any trouble before. I’m betting he’s scared to death.”

“He has Zelda with him. And that gun.”

“But he was trying to defend Zelda. I don’t think he’ll hurt her.” Owen frowned and kept driving. “But I’ll sure feel better once we find them both.”

He slowed down at a small house closer to the center of town. “That’s his house. No truck. So my guess was wrong.” Owen turned the next corner. “I’m trying to remember who his friends at school are. Who he might have turned to. Keep your eyes open for that old green truck of his. Luckily there aren’t a lot like that in town.”

“You said he went to church. Is he religious? Would he have turned to his minister for help?” Maggie suggested.

“Good thought.” Owen turned his car away from town.

“You’re not heading for the church,” said Maggie.

“I am.
His
church. He and his parents don’t attend the church on the Green. They go to a church outside of town.” Owen smiled. “It’s not the eighteenth century anymore. Not everyone in Waymouth goes to the Congregational church.”

“Of course not. I thought, since Zelda went to that church…”

“That Jon would, too? Nope.”

They weren’t close to downtown Waymouth anymore. Owen turned off Route 1 and headed down a less traveled road. About a mile in, a small white building was set off the road. In front of it a sign read: REJOICE IN THE SEASON. LET JESUS INTO YOUR HEART THIS HOLIDAY.

“This is the place.” Owen drove into a wide plowed driveway that curved around the building. “Reverend Adams’s office is in the back. If he isn’t here we’ll check the high school. Jon’s on the basketball team. The gym could be open for practices during the holiday.”

Owen slowed down as he followed the icy drive around the back of the low building.

“There!” Maggie pointed. A green pickup was parked near the back door next to a black Subaru sedan.

Owen pulled in next to the pickup. “Stay here until I take a look at the truck,” he said. “I want to see if his rifle’s there.” He got out and walked slowly toward the truck. He opened the driver’s door and reached down. Maggie watched as he came back toward the police car holding Jon’s rifle.

She opened her car door as he checked to see if the gun was loaded, and then put it carefully in the trunk. “So he’s not armed now,” she said. “Thank goodness.”

“Let’s go find them,” said Owen. Maggie followed him into the building. The reverend’s office was down the hall. Owen knocked. “Hello? Police.”

Silence. Then, “Come in. Door’s unlocked.”

A tall, thin, balding man sat behind a wide desk piled with papers. In back of him was a bookcase packed with various editions of the Bible, hymnals, books on biblical interpretation, and books on counseling. A cross hung on the wall opposite the desk, over the couch where Jon and Zelda sat, holding hands. If Zelda’s eyes hadn’t been swollen from crying, they would have looked like any other guilty teenaged couple, perhaps caught in an embrace by a mother walking into the room.

“We were expecting you, Deputy Trask,” said Reverend Adams. “It’s been a hard day here in Waymouth.”

“It has,” said Owen, looking from the minister to the two young people. “Jon, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.”

Jon swallowed hard. “I did it to protect Zelda. He was going to hit her with his belt.”

“And you shot him. You shot an unarmed Maine State Trooper,” said Owen. “That’s serious.”

“How’s my dad?” asked Zelda, not letting go of Jon’s hand.

“He’s in the hospital. Your grandmother went to be with him,” said Owen.

“Jon didn’t mean it. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have stayed out after my curfew. And I shouldn’t have told Jon about what my father would do.” Zelda turned toward Maggie. “I truly didn’t think he’d come after Dad. I didn’t.”

“I’m not sorry. I know that’s wrong, Reverend, but I’m not. Zelda’s dad’s been hurting her. You didn’t have to tell me, Zelda. I saw the bruises. And the black eye. He was getting worse. I was wicked worried about her, Reverend. I wouldn’t have killed her dad. I just wanted him to stop. I didn’t want him to hurt Zelda again.”

“I understand, Jon. But you know you have to go with the deputy.”

“It wasn’t like that Carrie Folk. She was going to tell people about Zelda’s grandmother killing babies. She killed babies, Reverend! She’s the one who should be going to jail. Not me.”

Maggie stepped closer to the young people. “How did you know about the abortions, Jon? Who told you?”

“Zelda told me,” he said. “She found a letter that woman…that Mrs. Folk…sent to her grandmother. She showed it to me.”

“I didn’t mean any harm to anyone,” sobbed Zelda. “I didn’t. I couldn’t find my sticky tape, to wrap Christmas gifts with. I looked in Grandma’s desk, and I saw the letter. It said awful things about Grandma, and her mother, too. Mrs. Folk was going to tell everyone in town what they’d done.”

“They were murderers, Zelda. They murdered babies.” Jon looked from her to Owen to the reverend. “They killed unborn children, Reverend. They should be the ones arrested.”

“It was a different time,” said Zelda. “I’ve heard that back then girls died from abortions. Maybe they were trying to help.”

“Help by killing innocents?” said Jon.

“I told you not to talk like that,” said Zelda. “I wanted to talk to Grandma and find out what it was all about. But I was afraid she’d be mad. I’d taken her private letter. And Mrs. Folk wanted money. I knew we didn’t have that kind of money. Grandma’s been saving so I could go to college, like we talked about the other day,” she said to Maggie. “You remember?”

“I remember. We talked about your going to school outside of Maine.”

“Away from my father,” said Zelda. “Grandma understood. I was grown up. It was time to leave Waymouth. See the rest of the world. Be where my father couldn’t worry about me. That’s all he did. He worried about me.”

“You wanted to leave me, too, then,” said Jon. “You know I was going to stay here and work at my father’s store.”

“We could have seen each other on vacations,” said Zelda. “But if Grandma paid that Mrs. Folk the money she wanted, then there’d be no money for me to go to college. I’d have to stay here in boring Waymouth for the rest of my life. Get a job at Bath Iron Works. Or work as a waitress.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t stand that.”

“So what did you do?” asked Maggie gently. “To make sure the money would be there for you to go to college?”

“Christmas Eve, after Grandma was asleep, Jon came over, like he did lots of nights when Dad was working. I knew I could get away. I wanted to talk to Mrs. Folk. To tell her she shouldn’t bother my Grandma. To tell her why she couldn’t have the money she was asking for.”

“And you did that?” Owen asked. “You both talked to Carrie Folk?”

Zelda nodded. “But it wasn’t anything like I thought it’d be. She said she needed the money for her son. That it wasn’t any of my business. That I was too young to understand.” Zelda appealed to Maggie. “I’m not a child. I’m not too young to understand. I didn’t want to be stuck in this town forever. College was my only chance to get away. To be free! She couldn’t take that from me. I wouldn’t let her!”

Jon spoke softly. “I tried to stop her. I did. But they were yelling at each other.”

“What happened, Zelda?”

“I got so angry. I didn’t know I could be that angry. I kept seeing her face, keeping me from living the kind of life I wanted to live.”

“And …”

“I picked up one of the logs she had piled next to her fireplace. And I turned and hit her with it. Just once!” Zelda sobbed. “I only hit her once.”

“Jon?”

“She’s telling the truth. She only hit her once. But Mrs. Folk fell down, and her head was bleeding all over the floor.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I covered her up with the afghan that was on the couch. I didn’t want her to be cold. I didn’t know she was dead. I was too scared to call anyone. My dad would have killed me if he’d known I’d sneaked out again.”

“I threw the wood in the fireplace,” said Jon, “and we got a dishtowel that was hanging in the kitchen and wiped everything we could. For fingerprints, you know? I’ve watched a lot of TV. That’s what the detectives check for. We didn’t want anyone to know we’d been there.”

“And then we left,” said Zelda. “Jon took me home and I went to bed. I hoped no one would ever know.”

“We promised never to tell what happened,” said Jon. “But it’s right to tell now, isn’t it, Reverend?”

Owen pulled out two pairs of handcuffs.

“Deputy Trask, before you take them away,” said Reverend Adams, “would you mind if we said a short prayer?”

The Dark.
1909 Lithograph by Jessie Willcox Smith (1863–1935) showing a very young boy about to ascend a flight of steep, dark stairs. Smith, who studied with Thomas Eakins and Howard Pyle, was only the second woman (of ten) to be inducted into the Hall of Fame of the Society of Illustrators. Known as one of the “Red Rose Girls,” a group of women artists who lived together near Philadelphia, she was known for her illustrations and paintings of children. 6 x 9 inches. Price: $60.

“Zelda Strait
killed Carrie?” Aunt Nettie shook her head in disbelief. “That nice young girl. And her friend Jon, shooting Nicky. I can’t get my head around it all.”

“Are you sure Nick’s going to be okay?” Will asked.

“Owen checked with the hospital before he dropped me off. Nick’s going to need surgery on that knee, and it will never be quite the same again. But he’s in good physical shape, and despite the delay, he got to the hospital quickly enough so he didn’t lose too much blood. After physical therapy he’ll be fine,” said Maggie.

“Poor Doreen. Her son in the hospital and her granddaughter in jail.” Aunt Nettie shook her head. “I’ll call her tomorrow and see if there’s anything we can do to help. But her problems are the kind a casserole and flowers can’t cure.”

“And who knows how long the courts will take with this,” added Will. “Nick must be furious. His own daughter. He always said that friend of hers was no good.”

“But if Nick hadn’t been abusive to Zelda, maybe this all wouldn’t have happened,” Maggie put in. “Although of course there’s no excuse for murder or for shooting Nick. They’re teenagers, and they overreacted to everything.”

“What about those of us who were involved with the abortions?” said Aunt Nettie. “Are they going to question us all about that poor girl’s murder back in the nineteen-seventies?”

“I don’t know,” said Maggie. “I guess that’ll be up to Nick, when he’s better, or to someone else with the homicide division. Owen said that for the moment, anyway, nothing will be done about it. Doreen says none of you was involved; if they do question you and Ruth, I’m guessing you’ll say the same thing.”

“Certainly. No one ever died in our place. If anyone had, heaven knows, we wouldn’t have left her body naked and out in the elements.”

“If they have no more evidence than the fact that you were all involved with abortion, I don’t see how they could put together a case,” added Will. “Unless they had DNA evidence. And I remember Nick’s telling me years ago that because the body had been outside in the rain, they found no evidence.”

“I keep thinking of Doreen. And Nick. And Zelda, locked away tonight. She had such a bright future ahead of her. To do something like this,” said Aunt Nettie.

“She must have been desperate to leave Waymouth,” said Maggie. “And she and Nick both had tempers. Doreen admitted there’d been fireworks at their home during the past months. Zelda panicked, and snapped.”

“And Carrie Folk died. Will, do we have any good sherry? I think I’d like a drink tonight.”

“We do. Maggie’s favorite, Dry Sack. I bought a bottle before she came.”

“I’ll join you, Aunt Nettie,” said Maggie, as Will got up. “And if you have a little lemon to go in it, that would be perfect.”

“Will do,” came Will’s voice came from the kitchen. “Two sherries coming up. And I think I’ll have an Irish whiskey. I agree, this is a night for a drink. Then I’ll go ahead and put the potatoes in the oven. When they’re baked I’ll broil the steak I bought when I was out buying bananas.”

“Steak and potatoes…sounds like a man’s winter meal,” Maggie couldn’t help smiling. “It sounds perfect. And simple. And then, if we dare, banana splits for dessert. But right now all I want to do is sip my sherry and be very glad I’m here with both of you.”

Will handed around the glasses. “To us. And to our friends who’re dealing with major problems tonight. May they be as strong as this whiskey.”

Aunt Nettie and Maggie raised their glasses of sherry in response. “Perhaps a strange sentiment, but a true one, Will. And to Maggie, for helping so many people this week. At least now we know the answers to our questions. Whether we like the answers or not.”