A Vision of Murder (7 page)

“I know… but there’s a
fairly deep pond not far from there. It is frequented sometimes by locals, but
not often. It’s too far back in the woods, without easy access unless you drive
thirty minutes out of your way. Seems to me that whoever the killer is would
have been better off to weigh the body down and dump it in the pond.”

I stared at Simms a moment,
doubt growing in my mind before I answered him. “I did get a feeling-”

“Yes,” Dunn prompted.

“I got the feeling that… she
was supposed to be found.”

They both wore a confused
expression for a moment. I continued thoughtfully. “She was supposed to be
found. The killer wants it to be known.”

They exchanged another
glance. I felt like I could almost read their minds.

“Well, this isn’t very good
news,” Simms said, leaning forward and thumbing through a notebook. “Not to say
that I expected good news exactly….”

“So you think-” Dunn began.

“What we do,” Simms finished
for him. “You think that it’s a serial killer as well.”

“I believe so.”

 Dunn let out his held
breath slowly, slumping back in his chair. He looked from me to Simms. “We were
hoping against hope that you would say they were unrelated. Or at least, that
they were connected somehow and the killer had motive.”

“We want you to go to the
cabin this afternoon if you have time,” Simms added. “We meant to do it before
all of this.”

“I can go whenever you need
me,” I replied.

When we left the station
that afternoon, the air was humid and muggy. The earlier storm had rolled away,
the cooler air going with it. Beads of sweat rolled down my spine and I longed
for a glass of cold sweet tea. I didn’t want to go to this cabin.

The bumpy gravel road ended
in a clearing. The weeds were thick in a ring of trees that surrounded the
cabin, but the clearing was neatly mowed. Yellow tape crossed the porch in
zigzags as if it were ivy climbing up and down in the rafters. A loose tail of
the police warning swung in the breeze, barely waving in the still air.

I climbed the steps slowly,
trailing behind the two policemen. The air was stifling. Waves of revulsion
rolled through me, threatening to make me sick. Dunn noticed my green face.

“You
gonna
be able to do this?” he asked.

I nodded in reply,
swallowing hard and leaning back against the wood railing. It felt rough and
splintery under my hands.

Twilight was falling in the
woods. Lightning bugs flashed here and there in the trees, calling out to each
other with a fairy like glow.

“Are you sure you don’t mind
me staying here?” the girl asked hesitantly, pausing at the door. She received
only a smile and shake of the head in reply.

“It’s awfully nice.” She
wrung her hands. Her eyes were unsure, as if she hadn’t expected such a gift.

The killer leaned back
against the porch railing. The wood felt rough and splintered….

I started, jerking my hands away
sharply from the railing. I sensed Dunn watching me from the corner of my eye,
but I couldn’t help wiping them off on the edge of my dress.
The last thing
you need is for him to start thinking you’re crazy
, I thought. My eyes rose
unwillingly to the small window by the door. Red curtains hung there, looping
merrily up at the corners.

The killer paused as the
door closed with a click,
then
moved slowly,
unwillingly, as if drawn to the window by some unseen force. She lay in a pool
of blood on the floor….

My breath caught in my
throat. I raised one hand, pointing through the smudged glass.

“That’s where she was,” I
stated simply.

Simms craned his neck,
staring through the window as well before nodding.

“Is there anything else?”
Dunn asked. I started as I realized he was right beside me, his arm almost
brushing mine. He gazed in the window intently, eyes narrowed at the spot on
the floor where the victim had lain.

“No,” I said. Dunn and I
both jumped as a loud creaking noise filled the air. Whirling around, we both
faced Simms. He stood in the doorway of the cabin, one hand on the knob.

“Maybe you’ll get better
vibrations inside,” he said, with a swoop of his arm.

The cabin felt stuffy and
closed in. It was very small with furniture crowded in closely like guests at a
funeral. A foul odor filled the air. I tried not to concentrate too closely on
what it might be.

The wood floor in front of
the fireplace was stained dark with blood. At first I avoided looking at it, my
eyes traveling over the fireplace and around the room. But eventually, I gave
in. As I gazed into the dark pool, it seemed to fill all of my vision. I fell
deliberately in.

Crickets chirped
nearby, sweetly calling to each other as the night air deepened.
The storm clouds had cleared
as if by magic
, but the dampness still permeated the
air as the
lightning bugs twinkled softly to each other, lights
appearing as if will- o’-the-wisps lurked in the forest, ducking swiftly behind
trees.
First here, then there.

The killer straightened
slowly, surveying the work with a critical eye, searching for anything that may
aid the police in the upcoming job. Nope, everything looked good. Not a clue
left behind. Closing the door carefully, the killer looked through the window.
Dark shadows spilled across the floor of the cabin, shrouding the dead.

The body was not easily
visible. Not unless you knew where to look. The
night
air
was heavy with the scent of
honeysuckle as the killer hurried down the lane. Sounds rose together, almost
creating a symphony. Or was it more like a dirge to the body left behind in the
remote cabin? The lone victim lying on that hard floor was not the first for
the killer. And it would certainly not be the last.

My mouth twisted in a grim
smile. “This isn’t the last. There will be more.” My voice sounded raspy and
hoarse. I saw a spark of fear in Dunn’s eyes, but I felt far away. I was
losing….

Rough shaking startled me.
Dunn’s kind eyes gazed into mine. “I think… that
wasn’t
you, was it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, pushing
him away. “It’s never me when that happens. I mean it is, but….”

“I understand,” Dunn said,
and for a moment, I felt that he really did.

Simms surveyed us with a
critical eye. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what the killer
said, wasn’t it?” Dunn asked, his hand reassuringly still under my elbow.

I nodded, slumping against
his shoulder. Even though the heat was smothering, I needed him. I needed
someone to keep it all at bay.
To keep it away.

I took a deep breath.
“There’s a pattern there.
Somewhere.
A pattern.”

“What do you mean?
A pattern?
How can there be a pattern when it’s only the
two…?” Dunn began, but trailed off, staring into the distance.

“Can you tell us
exactly
what you saw?” Simms
asked,
his voice urgent.

“Not here,” I begged. “Can’t
we go back to the station?”

To my surprise, the two men
nodded, not pushing me to reveal all I knew. I guess they had noticed how
shaken up I was.

The woods looked friendly
and inviting with wildflowers growing in clumps here and there. Not at all like
at night.

When the sun fell behind
those trees and the shadows came slithering down the branches, dropping from
limb to limb and down the rough bark to the grassy carpet beneath, the clearing
became a much different place.
Menacing and dark.

The perfect
place to be watched from the trees.
A killer slinking behind trunks, circling the
lonely cabin with murderous intent…. I jerked my head sharply as a crash
sounded in the trees.

The two men exchanged a
glance. Dunn’s brow was furrowed with worry. Simms turned, staring at the
woods, approaching them slowly.

 “Don’t leave me,” I
pleaded, almost clawing at Dunn’s arm. He ignored me, calling out to Simms.

“See anything?”

Simms held up one hand for
silence. The woods seemed to answer him, quieting down suddenly. Or maybe it
had always been that quiet and I just hadn’t noticed before? One of his long
legs stretched over the brush and he disappeared into the trees.

“Don’t go,” I said again. I
felt a rush of terror, imagining that being returning to me. Even though I had
let him assume it had happened before, it hadn’t. I was terrified of it.

He finally turned to look at
me, focusing on my eyes. He must have seen the terror there because his face
softened suddenly and his warm hand, slick with sweat, gripped mine. I held it
tightly.

“I need to check on Simms,”
he started, reluctant to leave me.

“No need,” Simms called out,
emerging suddenly from the trees. “There’s nothing there.”

But he looked troubled and
confused. I think he sensed the evil around him. I think he knew the killer was
near to their spot.
The spot where the life of a victim had
ended.
He sensed it as sure as a tracking dog. It seemed to fill the air
of clearing, almost tangible. I couldn’t believe that Dunn didn’t seem to sense
it. He stood there, calm and composed.

“Let’s get out of here,” I
whispered urgently.

I was glad when neither of
them argued with me. The tires seemed to spit gravel as we exited the small
clearing. I think we all felt as if we were fleeing.

“I
see it as it crosses the shade”

The humidity was definitely
starting to bother Mrs. Dodd. She patted her hair back into its customary
poofy
shape, a grim expression on her face. She scowled at
Sissy where she waited by the road, the car rattling and shaking as if preparing
to explode.

Mrs. Dodd had known Sissy
her whole life. While Sissy was not the smartest friend she had ever had, she
was one of the only ones still alive. And so their friendship grew.

It irritated Mrs. Dodd that
Sissy’s face held an expression of confusion and worry. She didn’t know why it
irritated her so much because Sissy’s face had always housed those unusual
expressions, ever since she was a child. She saw Sissy’s thin hand poised above
the horn.
She better not
, Mrs. Dodd thought savagely, putting an extra
spring in her step.

Sissy must have read the
threat from Mrs. Dodd because her hand froze before slowly wilting down to her
side. Mrs. Dodd finally reached the passenger side door, leaning heavily
against it and gasping for air before wrenching the creaky old door open.

“Did you find anything?”
Sissy asked sweetly in her high pitched voice. Her clear blue eyes were open
wide with expectation. Her round face reminded Mrs. Dodd suddenly of a large
baby. She even had a ribbon holding a mass of predictably dyed
blonde curls up.
One of those women who refuse to
get old
, Mrs. Dodd thought disgustedly.

She shook her head in reply.
“Not a thing. I couldn’t get close to that dad-burned house.” She surveyed her
pants gloomily. They were muddy and ripped with briars still stuck on the left
leg.

How lucky that Lorene had to
go out
,
Mrs. Dodd thought as she stuck one tiny finger through a large tear in her
pants. Sissy glanced at it and tittered, “Lorene is going to die when she sees
what you did.”

“Unlike you, Sissy, I don’t
let my daughter treat me like an old lady. I’m still the boss of me,” Mrs. Dodd
proclaimed with a shake of her head, her lips pursed. But inside, she knew that
was not true. Lorene
was
going to die when she saw those pants.
Another
daughter dead
, Mrs. Dodd thought morbidly.

“I saw the police car leave
over thirty minutes ago,” Sissy fretted. “Where have you been? It’s hot out
here.”

“I’m an old lady! You try
climbing through those woods,” Mrs. Dodd replied smartly.

“And all for
nothing, huh?”
Sissy asked, pulling the car back onto the road despite the warning sounds of
clanks and hisses.

“Sissy, this car is on its
last leg.”

“Like us,” Sissy tittered
again before continuing, “but you better be thankful for this old lady.” She
patted the dash fondly. “She’s all we’ve got.”

“True,” Mrs. Dodd muttered.
She was not allowed to drive anymore, but Sissy was still able. Mrs. Dodd would
rather have died than admit to Sissy that her inability to drive was not
physical, but rather due to Lorene’s orders. Instead, Mrs. Dodd simply used
Sissy as a taxi most of the time, claiming that her eyesight was failing.

She clenched her small hands
tightly together in excitement. This afternoon had been one of the luckiest of
her life. When Sissy pulled her groaning car into the driveway, Mrs. Dodd would
admit that at first she was not very happy. But then the clouds had cleared and
Lorene had gone out to her garden. Mrs. Dodd, though distracted by Sissy’s
incessant chattering, was still able to discern Lorene chatting over the fence.
Lorene’s not even been out there ten minutes!

Maybe she’s talking to the
psychic again
,
she had thought, rising slowly from the table and struggling to shush Sissy,
who would not take a hint.

But she had not even made it
to the window when her daughter had practically flown through the door, her
hair in disarray. Grabbing her purse, she turned to her mother.

“Mother, I have to run out
on some errands.” She glanced back towards her garden fretfully. “Oh dear, my
garden!” she almost wailed.

Mrs. Dodd had never seen her
so upset. “What’s wrong?”

“That horrible flood seems
to have knocked over several of my plants and busted a window in the
greenhouse. If it frosts this weekend, well, it will just kill all my plants.
I’m going to run over to Ridgeville and see if I can get a replacement pane
before it closes. Will you be alright here?”

“I’ll be fine…” Mrs. Dodd
started before being interrupted by Sissy.

“I’ll keep her company,”
Sissy chirped cheerfully.

Lorene paused in the doorway
and smiled serenely at them, “Now you girls
be
good,”
she said.

The two old ladies watched
her leave, backing carefully out of the driveway. Mrs. Dodd positioned herself
carefully in her chair, allowing Sissy to keep up her steady stream of talk for
the next hour.

Suddenly she jumped. “Sissy,
do you want to have an adventure?”

“Not really,” Sissy replied,
puzzled.

“
Hmmmm
….”
Mrs. Dodd considered things for a moment. “Well then, will you take me to town?
I want to pick something up for supper and get out a little bit.”

“Sure,” Sissy replied.

Mrs. Dodd had practically
flown to the car. She waited impatiently for Sissy to totter down the side
stairs, clutching at the railing, and then over to her car.

“Are you sure it will
start?” Mrs. Dodd said fretfully, peering now and then out of the window.

“Why yes,” Sissy said,
raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I’m not,” Mrs. Dodd replied
sharply. Finally, the car started and they moved slowly down the road, still
wet and covered with leaves.

They passed several
neighbors, all of whom Sissy had several comments on.

“Why, there’s old Mr.
Franklin, remember him?” she asked, not pausing for an answer. “I heard he’s
going to be put in that retirement home soon by that no good son of his that
moved back last January. What’s his name?”

“Sam,” Mrs. Dodd replied.
They passed Mr. Franklin quickly as he tottered down the road.

“And there’s Patricia
Swanson! 
Trying to look young again.
Just look
at that skirt!  Her husband would roll over in his grave if he could see
her now. I always thought she might have had something to do with him dying.
You worked with him then, didn’t you?” Sissy asked again, but since she knew
the answer, she barreled forward. “She’s one of the most jealous ladies I know.
And vindictive too!  Always cutting those young girls out of those jobs at
the salon, she can’t stand to have anyone around that might look better than
her.”

Mrs. Dodd nodded serenely,
her eyes searching the road ahead.

“And
Jackson Reilly!
Such a pity about his wife.”

“What’s he doing here? And
what happened to her?” Mrs. Dodd asked. She had always liked Jackson. His
family had lived next door to hers when Lorene and Mary were little. How many
times that boy had stolen cookies from her cookie jar, she couldn’t count. But
after struggling for years to get over Mary’s death, she had finally given in
and sold the family farm, determined to put the past behind her. She sometimes
thought that Lorene resented her for selling the old place. It had been in the
family for years.

Mrs. Dodd focused on what
Sissy was saying. “He’s back visiting his family. I thought for sure I had told
you all about this!” Mrs. Dodd did seem to remember faint utterings about a
death in the Sims family. Sissy continued, “Well, you know they just got
married a year or two ago now.
Lived up in Chattanooga.
A couple of months ago, she had a terrible wreck. She died instantly. He’s been
down here trying to get things sorted out. He said he’s moving his mother back
up to Chattanooga with him. She’s going to help him with the baby. Help him and
save him all that time of driving to check on her.”

Mrs. Dodd knew that old lady
Reilly was not in good shape, but she had steadfastly refused to leave her old
home for years now. The lure of a forsaken grandchild must have tugged at her
heartstrings.

“Well, I hate that for him,”
Mrs. Dodd said morosely. How strange that tragedy should strike him. She
remembered when he was only a small child at Mary’s funeral. She had thought
then that no misfortune could ever befall him. Nothing would come in quick
retaliation to him like it did to so many others. Not such a sweet boy as he
was. “But sadness comes to us all I guess.”

Mrs. Dodd sighed heavily,
but perked up instantly when she heard Sissy exclaim, “And there’s the
psychic!” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “An odd one, she is, if you ask
my opinion.”

“Why are you whispering,
Sissy?” Mrs. Dodd scowled, exasperated. “She can’t hear you in the car and if
she’s going to hear you psychically, then whispering won’t make any
difference.”

Sissy blushed and clenched
the wheel, refusing to say anything else until they pulled in at the Quick
Mart.

The shopping mart across
from the police station was crowded, but Mrs. Dodd lingered, allowing Sissy to
collect the gossip from each cashier at her convenience. She peered cautiously
through the plate glass window at the doors to the police station, watching
everyone who entered and exited.

“Sissy!” she called. “Let’s
go. I want to run another errand before I go home.”

Thankfully, nothing
spectacular for the older gossips had happened in the town recently. Scandal
was what interested Sissy, not murder, so the discovery of the body had not
weighed heavily on her otherwise occupied mind. She knew that no one in the
small town had been murdered and that was all she needed to know.

Sissy’s world revolved
around the small town. The going
ons
of outsiders to
Temple didn’t interest her in the least bit. It was not hard to pull her away
from the mundane gossip of the discovery of another dead body that seemed to
interest the cashiers so.

“All they can talk about is
that dead body,” Sissy complained as she heaved herself into the car. While she
was a small lady, she gave the appearance of being rather pudgy and large.

“I know. I was listening,”
Mrs. Dodd said, “and they don’t have the slightest clue what they’re talking
about. No information at all.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out near
the edge of town.
I want to gather some collard greens.”

Sissy peered doubtfully at
her. “Alright, but don’t take too long. It’s too hot out today to be sitting in
a car.” Mrs. Dodd was glad that Sissy had not tried to argue with her. She
wasn’t in the mood.

The long line of traffic that
Sissy usually held back dwindled slowly down to a couple of cars, one of which
was a police car. Mrs. Dodd watched it turn off on a narrow, washed out gravel
road.

“Stop here, Sissy!” she
said, as they turned into a narrow bend. “This looks like a good place.”

Sissy’s voice brought her
suddenly back to the present.

“You didn’t find any collard
greens in all that time?” Sissy asked, breaking into Mrs. Dodd’s thoughts.

“Not a one,” Mrs. Dodd
replied, “and I lost my grocery bag in the woods, too.”

“I didn’t think you would
find any,” Sissy remarked, “and you’ve ruined your pants looking. I wonder what
that police car was doing?” she said thoughtfully.

“Wasn’t this around where
that body was found?” Mrs. Dodd asked innocently.

“I do believe it was. I bet
they were investigating.” Sissy sighed. “I do feel bad for that girl, but she
wasn’t a local, you know.”

Mrs. Dodd only nodded in
reply.

Mrs. Dodd made it home long
before Lorene. She changed quickly, hiding her pants in the bottom of the trash
like she always did when she wanted to get rid of something before Lorene saw
it.

The older lady was exhausted
after her trek in the woods and the sleepless night before. What had been so
easy for her before was now getting harder and harder. She resented the old age
that had crept up on her and slowed her down.

She settled herself in her
comfortable blue armchair ready to watch the psychic’s house next door, but
promptly she began doze.

“Mary!” Mrs. Dodd called.
“Mary! It’s time, Mary!
Time to come home!”

“Mother!”
She woke with a start.
Lorene was standing over her, shaking her gently.
“Mother!
You need to get in bed. You might fall out of this chair and hurt yourself.”

“Lorene! What happened to
you?” Her daughter was covered in mud and dirt from head to toe. Leaves clung
to her hair, which hung down from a loose bun in strands.

“I was trying to cover the
hole in my greenhouse. It’s supposed to storm again tonight.”

“Did you get your window
pane?” Mrs. Dodd asked, allowing Lorene to help her to bed. “I’ve never heard
of anyone trying to install a windowpane this late at night.”