False Impressions (16 page)

“But she did.”

“She did? So he got to Mary Lou’s?” April’s spirits lifted. She’d feel so much better if she knew J.B. had made it to her house before he died. “I couldn’t tell which direction he’d been coming from.”

“I don’t know about that, but I saw them earlier in the day. She was talking to him at the gas station.”

“When?”

“Well, it was right about dark. But you know how brightly lit that Turkey Hill station is. I could see them clearly. I didn’t realize it was him until I read the accident report and saw the make of his car.”

“Well, that’s something,” April said. At least Mary Lou saw him.

“If that was the last time she saw him, she’s going to be very mad at herself,” Deana said. “They were fighting. In fact, the only reason I noticed her in the first place was because her car was parked at a weird angle, and she was yelling at this guy. I thought she’d been hit and was fighting with the driver.”

“And that was J.B.,” April said.

“It was.” Deana stood, flexing her knees. “I’ve got to get ready. You’ll be okay?”

April nodded. She grabbed a box of files and went into the new room. She turned on the light. The cremains closet was closed up tight. She listened for Deana’s footsteps and heard her reach her work space in the bowels of the house.

April opened the cabinet. J.B.’s box that did not hold J.B. was still on the shelf where she’d left it. She remembered her righteous indignation and the strong feeling that he didn’t belong here. But it wasn’t even J.B.

So who was it? She wondered if anyone cared. J.B. had been afraid to come back to Aldenville, afraid someone was going to kill him. Did his fear have something to do with what—who—was in that box? Did he know that someone else had taken his place?

April finished her work in several hours and went upstairs into Deana’s kitchen. As she passed the back door, she could see that the sun had gone. It was another early nightfall. That meant it was cold out, too. She’d stop at Mary Lou’s and tell her about Tina.

The kitchen was bright and smelled of roasting chicken and coffee. Mark was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him, staring at a glass jar. He looked up when she greeted him, clearly distracted. She started to put on her coat.

“I’m going to warm up my car. I don’t have a lot of gas, but it’s too cold not to.

“Let me,” Mark said. He took her keys from her and snagged a knit hat from the hook. “Deana’s on the phone,” he said, pointing his head toward the office down the hall. “State police wanted the results of the autopsy. I can tell her you said good-bye.”

“Okay, thanks.” April took her coat off. Nothing worse than getting overheated and then going out into the frigid air.

April washed her hands at the sink and grabbed a paper towel to dry. The small jar sat alone on the table.

April leaned over the table to get a better look at the object Mark had had in front of him. It was an ordinary canning jar with embossed lettering on the side and a two-part screw-on lid. Deana’s mother had used them to put up jam when they were kids. April remembered this kitchen sticky with strawberries and sugar.

They’d always helped until the summer they were thirteen. One misstep, an errant elbow and a little high spirits led to an eight-quart pot of hot, gooey jam spilled all over the counter, dripping onto the floor. April knew if she could see Deana’s foot, she’d find the scar from the blob of boiling liquid that had hit her.

She picked up the jar with that paper towel and tilted it to get a better look at what was inside. The presence of the canning jar made the contents even more sinister.

A bullet. She shifted it again. Two. Two very small bullets.

Mark huffed back in the door. She heard him blowing on his hands. “I’d give it a good five minutes. You better get gas. You can’t ride around in this weather on a quarter tank. Your lines will freeze.”

He stamped his feet on the mat and stepped inside the door. When he saw what she was holding, his eyes narrowed. “April, that’s evidence. Put it down.”

She complied. “J.B. was shot?”

He tightened his lips, his chin tipping up. He wasn’t going to say but she could tell she was right.

“But the windshield was broken. And the car was wrecked.” April pulled out a chair and sat down. “Twice? He was shot twice?”

Mark nodded.

“It’s a very small bullet,” April said, flicking the jar with her finger.

“Probably a twenty-two,” Mark said. She knew Mark hunted like most of the men in town, knew his way around firearms.

“Must have been tough to find,” April said.

His pride for Deana won out. “Not everyone would have found it. The doctors were too busy with his head wound. That was enough to kill him, but he’d also been shot under his armpit.”

The sound of her engine permeated her mind, and she remembered how little gas she had. April got up and said her good-byes to Mark. Once inside the warm interior of her car, she took a deep breath.

Someone had shot J.B.

Twice.

In a manner that was nearly impossible to detect.

Murdered. Someone had shot J.B. and then pushed his car off
the road. It wouldn’t take much to get it down that embankment. Gravity was on the killer’s side. As was nature. Once he was off the roadway, out of sight, his head wound, not to mention the freezing temperatures, would have killed him by morning if the bullets had not.

She stopped for gas at the Turkey Hill where Mary Lou had seen J.B. April had planned on telling Mary Lou and Kit about J.B.’s life in Mountain Top. They needed to know that he’d been happy. He’d been loved. And he’d fathered a child.

She didn’t know how long it would take the state police to get to the Rosens once Deana had told them. If Kit was working on her house, she’d welcome April. She headed there.

There was no sign of activity at Kit’s. The house was dark. April used the driveway to turn around. She’d take a chance and go by Mary Lou’s. April knew Mary Lou wouldn’t want to see her, but Kit might be alone there.

Mary Lou’s house was ablaze, lights on in most every window. The wide driveway was full. All the family cars, plus a state police car. And the Aldenville police cruiser. Even Yost. The official notification was on.

April watched the window. She could see the back of a state policeman’s head wearing the distinctive wool hat, covered with plastic to guard against the weather. Mary Lou and Kit were seated next to each other at the dining room table. Logan, Peter and Yost stood in the background, arms crossed at their waists like some kind of honor guard. Kit put her head on the table, and Mary Lou caressed her hair. It was a tableau of sadness.

April didn’t belong there.

 

She headed home. Her phone yipped. Rocky had sent her
another text reminding her that the Ice Festival was less than a week away and that they were stamping tomorrow. Were the stamps ready?

There was nothing she could do for Mary Lou and her family tonight. Telling them about Tina now would just be adding insult to injury. She would have to tell the state police, but for now she just wanted to go home and immerse herself in work.

The day had been long and full of surprises. Meeting Tina, hearing Dr. Wysocki’s tale of woe, and finally learning about J.B.’s murder. A hell of a day. And the one thing that tied it all together was methamphetamine.

She pulled up close to the barn. She was kidding herself. She wouldn’t be able to work until she’d told the police about Tina. She decided to make the call to the state police in her car. She wasn’t sure Tina would have outed herself to the police, and she didn’t want the Campbells overhearing. She talked to a trooper and gave her Tina’s information. Once that was done, she felt she’d done all she could. She made the mad dash to the kitchen door, trying to outrun the cold. Inside, the place was unnaturally quiet. The TV was off.

Only one person had that kind of impact on Grizz. Mitch. He was on the couch opposite the two recliners. Charlotte and Grizz were laughing at something he’d said. He got up to greet her with a kiss.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She dropped the bag from Dr. Wysocki on Charlotte’s end table. Charlotte nodded her thanks.

“Not happy to see me?” he said with a smile. He knew his presence was always welcome. Especially since it meant Fox News was silenced for a night.

“I didn’t notice your car,” she said, returning the kiss and leaning into him for a brief moment. She took off her heavy coat and hung it on the hook. “Been a day. I want to talk to you.”

“Sure, but the Campbells have been waiting dinner for you.” He leaned in and spoke quietly.

“Waiting?” She glanced at the clock over the sink. “It’s only five o’clock.” Early, even for them.

Mitch grinned. “Give you plenty of time before bedtime to digest. Think of it that way.”

She returned his grin.

The Campbells had gotten up and were heading to the kitchen table. April saw now that it was already set with Charlotte’s best dishes and her favorite lacy tablecloth. Charlotte opened the oven door, letting out heat and the marvelous smells. She put a bubbling pot of stew on the table and a basket of biscuits.

April’s mouth flooded with saliva. “I skipped lunch,” she said.

“May I?” Mitch said. He pulled out a chair for her. He’d made this table for Vince and Ed and still acted as if he owned it.

Grizz tucked a napkin under his chin and dug into his stew. Charlotte glanced his way, and he put his fork down. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

“Thank thee, Lord, for the food we are about to receive.” Grizz looked at Charlotte. She was still moving her lips. He said gruffly, “Amen.”

April laughed. She knew Charlotte only made him say grace when there was company. Looked like Mitch still fit that bill.

Charlotte passed dishes, and April felt her stomach rumble. She filled her plate and dug in. When Mitch asked her about her day, she shook her head.

“Tell you later,” she said. She made eyes at the other two diners. “I don’t want to spoil their dinner.”

He raised his eyebrows but backed off when he saw she wasn’t going to talk. Mitch honored her inability to make small talk tonight and so led the conversation, asking the Campbells about their day. Charlotte launched into a detailed version of her favorite soap opera, alternating with Grizz telling Mitch how easy the college championship version of
Jeopardy!
was compared to the real version. Mitch was leaning in, earnestly agreeing with Grizz.

April was happy to let them talk. She listened with half an ear, feeding her body with Charlotte’s good cooking and her soul with the mundane details of life. The fact that nothing out of the ordinary happened in this place today was a good thing.

“I’ve got a surprise for you after dinner,” Mitch said. April glanced up to find she’d missed some conversation. Charlotte was smiling at her. They’d all finished eating. She mopped up the gravy in her bowl with her biscuit.

“I already had one big surprise this week. I’m all surprised out. Unless it’s snickerdoodles,” April said. She looked hopefully over at Charlotte, who shook her head.

“Sorry,” Charlotte said. “The surprise has nothing to do with me, dearest.”

Mitch excused himself, then came back to the table carrying the pink satchel that contained her chain saw.

He plopped it on the empty end of the table, causing plates to rattle. Charlotte jumped up and started clearing. April grabbed the stew pot. It was still warm but not hot. She placed it on the stove.

“Not exactly a surprise,” she said. “I knew this was coming. But tonight?”

“Time for your chain saw lesson,” Mitch said, grinning from ear to ear. He carried the butter dish to the refrigerator and put it away. Grizz watched the activity, sucking on his teeth.

“Really? Now? Outside? Isn’t it like five degrees out?”

“Come on, we don’t have much time left before the festival. I want you to get in some practice.”

Mitch handed her her heavy down coat and plopped a hat with earflaps on her head.

“You like the Elmer Fudd look, do you?” April said, catching a glance at herself in the door window. She shifted the hat so the fur lining was snug, finding herself seduced by the warmth.

“You look good in anything,” Mitch said. “Bundle up. We’re burning daylight here.”

She put on the coat. “Daylight? It’s black as a womb out there.” April held out her arms, Frankenstein style. “I can barely move my arms.” She saw Charlotte smile.

“You’ll do fine,” Mitch said.

A spotlight on the roof of the barn lit up the delivery of cordwood Mitch had had dropped off. The wood that Grizz had chopped by hand was neatly stacked under the lean-to roof that kept it dry. A brand new pile stood next to it.

“I want you to get a feel for using the saw. Chopping wood is easy,” Mitch said, placing a log onto the concrete pad.