Dead Jitterbug (20 page)

“I had copies made of what’s written inside,” said Lew, looking up. “Lillie, would you mind handing these out?”

“Not in the least,” said Lillie, reaching for the copies.

“Before we talk about that, may I say something?” asked Molly. Her voice was even but Osborne noticed, now that she held a sheet of paper, that her hands were trembling.

Lew, who had found whatever it was she was searching for in the box, moved the boxes to the side and sat down, saying, “Go right ahead, Molly. By the way, I’m happy to see you’re keeping that cell phone with you. Hope you’ve read the directions on how it works.”

“Oh, yes. Got it right here.” Molly pointed to a well-worn navy blue backpack at her feet. “Keeping it on all the time, just like you said.”

“I noticed,” said Lew, with a slight smile. “Marlene ran the software on our system around eight o’clock last night—checking locations on me, Todd, Roger, and you, Molly. Showed you about three miles southeast of town. At your parents’ place—well, yours now, right?”

“Yes. Lillie and I drove out there last night. I don’t know if I told you, but I hired a crew to clear the area around the house because it was so overgrown. You couldn’t even see the lake from inside.

“When we drove up last night, it was like it used to be. Wide open with a few trees here and there, just like it looks in some family photos I have. And there’s this one tree off the back patio that has this pretty little wooden bench encircling it. Used to be painted white. The minute I saw it I remembered….”

Molly dropped her face into her hands. The room was quiet.

“You don’t have to do this if it’s too painful,” said Georgia.

“No, I want to. It—it helps, really.” Molly took a deep breath. “When I saw that bench, it was like a trigger. Everything came back. Everything I’ve not been able to remember came back: my mother’s face, my dad, my little brother. All of a sudden I felt like they were there.” A sob caught in Molly’s throat.

“I just … I felt like I could hear them, I could see them.”

“When you say ‘everything,’ do you have any recollection of … that night?” said Lew.

“Less a memory than a dream,” said Molly, her voice stronger. “And I’ve been thinking about this ever since.” She gave a weak laugh. “I have this vision of a giant. A tall gray giant with yellow hair, taller than our house. He keeps walking toward me and I’m afraid, I try to hide under my covers.”

“So you’re in your bed,” said Lew.

“I guess so. I try to hide but he’s so close—I can smell him. I wait for him to hurt me, but he doesn’t—he’s just … nice. Then he goes away, and there’s a door. I want to get out. I’m trying so hard to open the door, but I can’t reach the knob, and I keep crying for my mother.”

“Molly was locked in her bedroom that entire weekend,” said Lillie. “A blessing given what happened in that house.”

“The other thing I remembered is this smell,” said Molly. “Now I know why, when I was around Jerry when I first arrived here, I felt so comfortable. This is back when he was going out of his way to be nice—before the marriage. His smell had this weird effect on me: He smelled
safe.
It’s a funny smell—like a mix of body odor and aftershave or something. Very pungent.”

“He does wear a strong cologne,” said Osborne. “I noticed it whenever he was in the dental chair.”

“Odd how the mind works,” said Lew. “You’re saying you’ve had no memories of your family before seeing that bench last night?”

“Yeah, it’s like my life started around age six. I’ve had no memories of anything happening before that.”

“This so-called birthday card was sent to Georgia’s home on the occasion of Molly turning four,” said Lillie, striding back and forth and gesturing as if she was in front of a jury. “Eighteen months after the murders. And, may I remind you,
after
the alleged killer had been arrested and so conveniently committed suicide while in jail.” Lillie paused. “Molly, are you okay with this?”

The young woman nodded. “Ever since I saw that bench, I feel like a weight has been lifted. Now I want to know everything.
Everything.
This might sound strange, but I feel good. It’s like I’m getting my life back.”

“Okay, then,” said Lillie, opening the manila folder and holding it out so they could all see the front of the card, which was decorated with a cake and four candles.

“Please—under no circumstances should anyone touch that card or the envelope,” said Lew, reaching for the folder. “It goes to the lab for DNA testing this morning. Lillie, would you read from your copy what it says inside?”

Lillie gave a quick glance to be sure she had everyone’s attention, then read, “'Happy Birthday, little Molly. You could have been mine, little one. You should have been mine, little one. I have a gift for you today, little Miss Molly. I promise that someday we’ll be together. Someday we’ll die together.’

“And it’s signed, ‘Daddy’s special friend.’

“
‘Someday we’ll die together,'”
said Lillie.

“When I read that, I took it as a threat,” said Georgia. “Very, very upsetting.”

“Georgia, we’re lucky you kept the envelope it came in,” said Lew. “With luck it’ll have traces of saliva from the person who sent it.”

“Yes, and now you have the pajamas,” said Lillie. “How soon can we have the DNA tests run?”

“Wausau has agreed to bump us up and give me a twenty-four-hour turnaround,” said Lew. “But what we need before we send the evidence to the lab is a sample from Jerry O’Brien. Molly, do you have something we can use?”

“Lillie asked me that before,” said Molly, “and I’ve looked through all my things, but I’m afraid I don’t.”

“No strands of hair, no personal items that he might have used, anything he might have left skin cells on?”

“No, I’m sorry,” said Molly. “I’ve checked everything.”

“How ‘bout a toothbrush?” asked Georgia. “Maybe you could grab his toothbrush.”

“He uses an electric one,” said Molly. “Guess I could sneak in and take it.”

“Does he floss?” asked Osborne.

“Twice a day.”

“Probably flushes it down the toilet,” said Georgia, “that’s what I do.”

“No. He puts it in the wastebasket under the bathroom sink.”

“Are you serious?” asked Lew. “All we need is a few strands of that dental floss. That could be an excellent secondary source.”

“I know where he hides a key,” said Molly. “And every day he leaves the house at ten a.m. to walk downtown for the
Wall Street Journal
and the
Chicago Tribune.
I could run in this morning and grab some. What time is it?”

“Nine … twenty-two,” said Lew. “Okay, everyone. Let’s have Molly do that—then Roger can take everything down to Wausau. Now, Molly, I’ll get you a pair of latex gloves and an evidence bag. We want to be sure there’s no contamination.”

“Molly,” said Georgia, after Lew left the room. She had been sitting with her arm around Molly’s shoulders. “I’ve been meaning to ask you—how did Mr. O’Brien take it when you said you were leaving him?”

“I don’t know. I never told him directly. I just packed my stuff and left when he wasn’t home.”

“Did you leave a note?”

“Yes, but all I said was I wanted to move into my own place and have some time to think. He knows I’ve been cleaning up my folks’ house.”

“But I refuse to let her stay out there all by herself,” said Lillie.

“Thank goodness,” said Georgia. “Where does he live? If it’s almost nine-thirty, shouldn’t you be on your way?”

Lew walked back into the room as she was speaking. “Here, put this in your backpack,” she said, handing Molly a packet with gloves and an evidence bag.

“Molly’s got a couple minutes before she needs to leave,” said Osborne. “O’Brien’s house is just two blocks from here. Lew, do you want me to drive her over?”

“If you would, Doc. I have a few more questions for Lillie and Georgia—”

“Excuse me, Chief Ferris,” said Molly, checking her watch. “While I wait, could I take a quick look at those case files?”

Lew didn’t answer. She glanced over at Lillie who shook her head.

“That’s not a good idea, Molly,” said Lew. “The photos from the crime scene are pretty disturbing. Wouldn’t you rather remember your mom and your dad and your little brother as you do now?”

“Those files will serve no purpose other than to give you nightmares, young lady,” said Lillie.

Molly looked back and forth between Lillie and Lew. “It’s not like I haven’t worked seven years in the news business. I’ve seen dead bodies before. I can handle it. I told you—I want to know
everything.”
Still Lew made no move to give her what she wanted.

“Lillie,” Molly pleaded, turning in her chair to face the old woman, “you’re the one who told me you live by the Golden Rule—'Do onto others as you would have them do onto you.’ I want to know what was done unto me. That’s all.”

Lew took one of the cardboard boxes and walked over to set it down by Molly’s chair. The file with the photos must have been clearly marked because Molly pulled it out first. As she opened the file, Georgia turned away, one hand over her eyes. “I can’t see those again,” she said.

The room was quiet as Molly studied each of the black-and-white photos, her face stoic. Several times she checked her watch and, when she was finished, she placed the file back in the box. “The thing about nightmares,” said Molly, a calm resolve in her voice, “they don’t lie. Dr. Osborne, are you ready to drive me over?”

twenty-eight

They may the better fish in the waters when it is troubled.

—Richard Grafton

Osborne
parked midway down the block behind a pickup truck belonging to a lawn crew working on the same side of the street as O’Brien’s house. The neighborhood was older with two- and three-story wood frame houses dating from the 1920s. Set back from the sidewalk and framed with picket fences and generous lawns, each home had a detached garage backing onto an alley.

“Keep your head down until I see him leave,” said Osborne over his shoulder to Molly, who was crouched low in the backseat. They didn’t have long to wait.

On the dot of ten, Jerry O’Brien came down his front stairs and along the walkway through his front yard to the sidewalk, where he turned right and headed off in the direction of downtown Loon Lake. He walked with his feet slightly splayed, shoulders back, head high. Watching him, it struck Osborne for the first time in all the years he’d known O’Brien that from some angles he could be mistaken for a tall, big-boned woman. It was how he carried himself.

Once he had turned the corner, Molly jumped out through the car door and started for the house. “Wait,” said Osborne, lowering the passenger-side window. “Don’t forget the the evidence bag! You need those gloves.”

“Oops.” Molly skidded to a halt and returned to grab her backpack, slinging it over her right shoulder. Back she ran toward the house, stopping at the front stoop where she bent down, right hand feeling under a Japanese yew. In less than a minute, she had the house key in hand and was letting herself through the front door, closing it behind her.

Osborne waited. He checked his watch. Molly had said Jerry usually took about forty-five minutes to get the papers. He always stopped to have one cup of coffee at the nearby coffee shop, taking twenty minutes or more to peruse the front pages before heading home.

Osborne looked off to his left. Two mothers with toddlers in strollers were ambling down the street across from where he was parked. He recognized one as a friend of Erin’s and gave a friendly wave.

When he looked back to see if Molly had come out yet, he was stunned to see Jerry jogging back down the sidewalk towards the house. As he ran, he kept checking the pockets of his khakis, front and back, then his shirt pocket: he must have forgotten his wallet. At the yew, he bent to reach for his house key. Osborne watched, breath held, as O’Brien ran his fingers around the low shrub, searching.

Frustrated, he stood, brushed the dirt off his hands, ran up the front stoop, and tried the front door as if he expected it to be locked. But it opened. He disappeared inside, leaving the front door ajar. Osborne wasn’t sure what to do. He waited, thinking Molly was smart enough to come up with some excuse. Heck, she could say she’d forgotten something. He waited, deciding that if she didn’t come out within five minutes, he’d better go in. It was the longest five minutes he could remember.

Running up the front stoop, Osborne pushed at the door. It opened farther. Molly was standing at the end of the hall, her eyes wide with an expression he didn’t recognize until it was too late. Then, as if it was happening to someone else, he heard rather than felt the crack behind his right ear. The room went black.

As he came to, he got a whiff of Jerry O’Brien odor that was so strong he thought he would gag. “Doc, you okay?” Lew was kneeling over him. “Don’t move till the paramedics get here.”

“Oh, my head,” said Osborne, pushing himself up on both arms.

“O’Brien clocked you a good one,” said Ray from where he was standing behind Lew.

“Ray,
ooh,
ouch. Hey, how did you get here?” asked Osborne, relieved he could put one word after another.

“I knew from Lew that you would be in her office this morning. I was on my way in to show you and Lew my photos from the fishing clinic, when she came rushing out. Got some great shots of you, Doc—without a lump on your head.”

“That’s enough, Ray—I want Doc to keep still.” Lew’s hands felt good on his back. “You sure you want to sit up, Doc? You probably have a slight concussion. I called an ambulance. Be here any second.”

“Oh, gosh, no,” said Osborne, struggling first to his knees, then to his feet. “No ambulance, Lewellyn.” He saw the worry in her eyes. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

That wasn’t exactly true. He felt a little woozy, and his head hurt like hell. He reached back over his right ear. A lump was forming. He saw now that he had fallen against an oak coat rack, pulling it down with him and landing with his head on one of O’Brien’s jackets.

“Ouch. How long have I been out?”