A Vision of Murder (14 page)

Mrs. Dodd ignored her,
sipping her tea and staring out of the window. Sissy pursed her lips before
continuing.

“How
unlucky for that poor man that he ran out of gas that night.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs.
Dodd asked, picking at her sandwich.

“Well, if he had come home a
little sooner, she might have still been alive. He might have been able to call
for help.” Sissy shook her head. “If only that farmer had come sooner. Of
course, they told us they couldn’t have done anything for my cousin, even if
she had gone straight to the doctor!”

Mrs. Dodd didn’t bother to
reply.

 “Maybe our psychic
knows the psychic on his case? Maybe they could help out?” Sissy crunched a
chip loudly.

Mrs. Dodd sighed
impatiently. “Our psychic
was
the psychic on his case and she didn’t say
much. Just revealed his friends were lying and vouched for everything else he
said. I was trying to prove that she wasn’t a
real
psychic.”

“Well.” Sissy paused,
sandwich in mid-air. “It seems to me, at least with this case, that you’ve
proved she is,” Sissy’s voice rose excitedly, “just like with the library.
Maybe she’ll be able to find out what happened to those poor girls if she’s
this good!”

Mrs. Dodd had been ignoring
Sissy, but something her friend had said struck her suddenly. She smiled at her
and picked up her forgotten sandwich.

“Did I help at all?” Sissy
said. “I notice you’ve got your appetite back.”

Mrs. Dodd grinned at Sissy
before taking a big bite of her sandwich. “I think you may have. Besides, we’ve
got some more work to do. She has some other cases we should look into!”

“Others
join in the chase”

An hour later found me
concentrating hard on the bracelet. Its hard surface had been cool in the
chilly police station, but was now warming up from the contact with my skin.

The girl was sleeping
soundly under the bridge. It was hard for the killer to believe that she could
rest with so much noise above her.

I shook slightly, but forced
myself to continue. I felt a hand lower to my shoulder comfortingly before
Simms voice rang in my ears, his whisper rough and low, “Don’t touch her. She
might lose it.” The hand lingered a moment before lifting. I could feel the
uncertainty in Dunn’s gesture.

She was alone. Perfect.
There wasn’t another human being in sight. One hand reached down to shake her
awake.

“Who are you?” the girl
asked, wiping her eyes. She sat up slowly, but her eyes were alert and wary.

“I work with a rescue
group,” the killer began. The girl started to rise, pushing her way off the ground.
“Don’t worry,” the killer continued, “I’m here to help. We offer a unique
service.” The killer sat down slowly.

“What kind of service?” the
girl asked warily.

“We find temporary housing
for girls in your position.
At state and national parks.
You’re allowed to stay in the cabins for free during the off season in exchange
for work at the park. It’s not much, but it’s better than this. What’s your
name?”

 “What do I have to
do?” the girl asked slowly. She shivered as a chill wind blew through the
bridge.

“Just don’t end up on the
street again.” The killer joined the girl in light laughter. It was comical to
think that anyone would choose to go back to the streets once they escaped, but
it did happen. The killer continued, “Nothing. Like I said, it’s a rescue.”

The girl thought a moment
before replying, “My name’s Amanda.”

The killer smiled a friendly
sort of smile. “Amanda. That’s a nice name.” Standing, the killer offered a
hand to the victim. “If you want to go, then come on.”

“Right
now?”
Her bracelet winked and sparkled in the dim light as she took the offered hand.

“What kind of rescuer would
I be if I left you here in the middle of the night?” The killer grinned.
“Besides, haven’t you heard? A bad storm’s coming.”

I shivered again and dropped
the bracelet back into the bag I had found it in.

“We weren’t able to lift any
prints. Can you tell us anything that might help?” Dunn said. He was poised and
ready with a notebook. They were waiting for what I would reveal.

“Her name was Amanda,” I
started. “I saw a bridge and it was cold. There was a storm coming….”

The morning light was
shining clearly through the patterned curtains in Mrs. Dodd’s kitchen. Sissy
was finishing up her large stack of pancakes, heavy with syrup. The sausage and
eggs were drowning in the sweet mess.

“That is just disgusting,
Sissy!” Mrs. Dodd said while she carried her plate to the sink. Ginger looked
up at her hopefully. “No
m’am
.” Mrs. Dodd knelt to
pet her. “You’ve already had some sausage and pancakes.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed
to feed that dog table scraps.” Sissy bit into her sausage patty which dripped
syrup in slow motion to the plate below.

“That’s Lorene’s orders,”
Mrs. Dodd
humphed
. “What’s the use of living if you can’t
enjoy pancakes and sausage every once in a while?”

“I guess you’re right,
Velma,” Sissy said, scooping a large forkful herself.

“As soon as you finish,”
stated Mrs. Dodd, as she straightened up from Ginger and settled
herself
back in the seat across from Sissy, “then we can
plan on going back to the library.”

“What?!?!?”
Sissy almost
wailed,
her forkful of pancakes and sausage almost
forgotten. “Velma, I can’t spend another day going over all that mess again.”

“Watch the fork, Sissy!
You’re dripping syrup on the table,” Mrs. Dodd snapped at her friend.
Thankfully, she had a wet rag prepared and on hand. She swiftly wiped the
sticky syrup from the smooth wood surface of the table.

Sissy hurriedly stuffed the
forkful in her mouth and moved out of the way of her old friend. Her eyes were
wide with arguments against a return to the library, but her mouth was now too
full to talk.

“Sissy.”
Mrs. Dodd lowered her thin
frame into the chair next to her friend and stared at her hopefully. “This is
important to me. I’m looking into a serial killer that died in jail. I want to
review his cases.”

“Why?” Sissy asked around a
mouthful of food. “Did you see it on TV or something?”

“No,” Mrs. Dodd said slowly,
“but I heard about it. He killed girls and dumped their bodies at parks.
Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

Sissy thought for a moment,
her heavily made up eyes squinting in concentration.

“Like maybe something that
happened locally?” Mrs. Dodd prompted.

Sissy stared at her blankly.

“Like the girls they just found
in the cabin and at the park?” Mrs. Dodd blurted out, exasperated.

“Now that you mention it, it
is rather odd, isn’t it?” Sissy said. “I didn’t even think of
them
, you
know, with
them
being outsiders and all.”

“Sissy, sometimes I do
believe that you think that everyone that lives outside of Temple is some kind
of alien life form and not human at all.”

“I do not!” Sissy defended
herself
, brandishing her fork in the air and pointing it at
Mrs. Dodd. “They’re people. They’re just not
our
kind of people.”

“Well.” Mrs. Dodd considered
things for a moment. “I will give you that,” she finally admitted.

She glanced at the clock
impatiently. “Are you almost done with your disgusting breakfast?”

“I am,” Sissy retorted,
spooning the last of it in her mouth.

Five minutes later they were
on the road to the library.

“So, the murderer tells them
that he’s with a rescue group and that they give shelter to homeless girls
while they get on their feet, huh?” Dunn mused. His face was thoughtful as he
stared into the distance.

“Pretty good plan,” Simms
admitted. “He actually has them come to the parks before he kills them.
And homeless girls… runaways… just like we thought.
That’s
why we’ve had such a hard time locating this girl. I’ll check again now that we
have a first name.”

“We’ve got a lot of work to
do,” Dunn sighed. “First thing will be alerting the local big cities about
this.” He shuffled the papers in front of him back into place.

Simms rapped the table with
his knuckles. “We also need to go out and talk to Mr. Robins. Could you tell if
Gary was in the area?”

I shrugged. “I could try.”

He nodded sharply. “Alright
then, let’s go.
If you’re free right now?”

I assured him I was and we
left the building together. I hoped that talking to Mr. Robins would lead us to
Gary quickly.

The librarian seemed
surprised to see them again, arched eyebrows lifting towards her forehead
quickly, when the two old ladies approached.

She leaned forward over the
desk towards them, however, smiling kindly at the women. “Are you two ladies in
your town’s historical society?” she asked, hands clasped in front of her.

“No, we’re not,” Sissy said.
“Ida Green controls that group. She can’t stand Velma.” She gestured towards Mrs.
Dodd. “And I refused to join out of loyalty to her.”

The librarian smiled in a
condescending matter at Sissy as she spoke.

“You look awfully dressed up
today.” She smiled at them. “I can’t decide which of you is cuter. What can I
help you two ladies with today?” she asked as she moved a ruler and a pen
around in front of her on the desk.

“We’re here to look up John
Carson White,” Mrs. Dodd answered her question smartly.

The smile faded from the
lady’s face slowly. “Are you sure that’s who you want to look up?”

“I believe I have the name
right.” Mrs. Dodd pulled the slip of paper from her purse. She had been sure to
write down the name immediately upon returning to the house and had secreted it
in the pocket of her handbag.

The librarian took the piece
of paper tentatively, as if it might bite. “But he’s… I mean, he was….”

“A serial
killer?”
Sissy’s eyes were wide and innocent looking, though caked with makeup. She
bobbed her head happily along with the librarian’s as she nodded in response,
an unsure, confused look on her face.

“Yes…” she said slowly. “Why
ever…” she started to ask, but then saw the two ladies glance conspiratorially
at each other.

“Do you mind directing us to
whatever information you have on him?” Mrs. Dodd asked.

“We don’t have any books
about him, it was pretty recent after all, but I do believe you can find plenty
of information in the newspapers like you did yesterday.”

“That would be fine. Would
you mind helping us with that?”

“Not at all,” the librarian
responded. She came around the desk quickly, skirt swishing and high heels
tapping as she circled around to them. “I just don’t understand why…” she began
again. Not receiving an answer, she pursed her lips and led the way down the
tall bookshelves again.

Mr. Robins was sitting on a
stump in his yard, slouched over with his legs crossed and an old hat pushed
low over his eyes. His dogs lay around him in piles. From a distance, it
appeared that they had fallen victim to some sudden illness or deadly disease
that they would never rise from, but as the car approached, they all leapt to
their feet with a bound, baying loudly at the police car as it pulled in.

The man did not rise to
greet us. Instead, he remained calmly seated, calling the dogs off with a yell.
They slunk back to their master and collapsed about his feet again, like
dancers slipping to the floor in an elaborate finale.

The three of us emerged from
the car cautiously. I stayed near a door, ready to leap to safety if need be,
but the two men walked around to the front of the car. Simms leaned against the
hood nonchalantly while Dunn stood off to the side, surveying the scene.

The screen door slammed
loudly on the porch. “Who’s that?” A huge woman stood squarely in the middle of
the porch. Her old dress was covered with a soiled apron and her two stout
fists rested firmly on her hips. Her graying hair was pulled back in a tight
bun, but wisps of curls escaped around her face.

I had the distinct feeling
that among her family and friends she was a large, laughing woman whom children
loved. To us she was angry and menacing.

“What are you doing on our
private land?” she spit out from around tightly pressed lips. The breeze fanned
her curls, sending them dancing around her stern face.

“We just want to ask you
some questions, Mrs. Robins.” Simms held up a hand as if to calm the situation.
Mr. Robins sat still as a stone on his stump, not moving a muscle.

“Well, ask and get out,” she
said. The two of them just stared at us. I felt a thrill of fear down my back.
I had grown up in a small town, but I hadn’t experienced this from the outside.
I had known all the families, grown up around them. Though they didn’t like me
and I had always considered it that they had treated me as an outsider, it was
nothing compared to this.

“There’s no need to be
angry. We just have some questions about your nephew, Gary,” Simms continued
calmly.

“Didn’t you find out enough
about him at his house?” Mrs. Robin’s face was frozen, but an angry red color
had started to rise up her neck climbing towards her forehead.

“
M’am
,
that was legal. We had a warrant to…” Dunn began.

“I don’t care if it’s
considered legal by you. It wasn’t considered legal by us. This is private
property!” Her finger jabbed down.

“Let them ask their
questions,” Mr. Robins said suddenly. We all, even Mrs. Robins, turned to stare
at him in shock. It had appeared at first that he was not going to participate
in the exchange occurring right in front of him.

“They are trying to pin
something on my nephew…” she started, but stopped as he unfolded himself and
half turned on his stump, looking over at her.

“Minerva, let me handle this
for you.
Alright?
You’re just upset right now. Let me
take care of it.” Mr. Robin’s voice was surprisingly soft, even gentle as he
addressed his huge wife.

She ducked her head in
acknowledgement and even went so far to lower herself onto a nearby rocking
chair. She was keeping a watchful eye on us.