Loonies (16 page)

“Have you checked his pockets?” he asked Noah.

“Of course,” the chief said. “Found a garden tour pamphlet, a rubber ball, and a compass.”

Wickwire came to the entrance of the pound and gestured Noah and the county attorney inside. Brian wanted to go with them but saw the distasteful look Wickwire shot him and knew that was out of the question. Night Shift Alvin remained behind to guard the gate. Brian walked up to the wall and leaned against the cold granite to peer over the top. Shadows filled the clearing, especially the back left corner where the body lay.

The men gathered around it, blocking Brian’s view even further. Noah and Wickwire trained flashlight beams on the corpse while the medical examiner crouched and made his examinations. Steem’s body obscured the upper part of the victim’s body, and Brian kept moving his head, trying to get a better angle. He kept wondering if it was the missing Ruth Snethen.

Steem bent to point something out, providing an opening for Brian to see the upper torso of the body. It was bathed in the beams of light from the flashlights, but he could not see the woman’s face.

The victim’s head was covered by a pillowcase.

In the morning, before work, Brian told Darcie about the night’s events. He hadn’t wanted to wake her when he got home, given her current condition, knowing she needed rest. He hadn’t slept well himself, tossing and turning, his mind working over the events at the Town Pound. At one point he had even got up and stepped into the back yard, getting his cigarettes and matches out of the hole in the maple tree and lighting one up. He figured it might calm his nerves and help him sleep. He stayed outside, sucking the smoke deep inside, releasing it with a gentle exhale. Just one, he told himself, and then back to bed, after rinsing with mouthwash first, of course.

He had stayed at the Town Pound until they loaded the body in the ambulance and took it away. He tried to get a glimpse of the face as the stretcher was carried out past the squeaky iron gate, but Wickwire kept him at a distance. He wanted to see if it indeed was Ruth Snethen. If so, then a clue to the mystery of the trunk full of skeletons could be lost.

“Obviously, that’s why she was killed,” Brian told his wife over a breakfast of toast with cinnamon sugar, scrambled eggs, sausage links, and a glass of pulpy orange juice.

“And you think it was the same person who killed Dr. Wymbs?” Darcie asked, eating a small bowl of maple oatmeal with a glass of milk.

He set his fork down and looked across the table. “Has to be. They have a connection. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“And of course you think it has something to do with the trunk we found?”

Brian pierced some eggs with the prongs of his fork and stuffed a bite into his mouth. “Makes sense,” he said after swallowing. “That seemed to trigger everything that’s happened since.”

Darcie shivered. “It just gives me the willies. Thinking it all started here in our house, with those poor babies.” She played her spoon around the oatmeal and then set it down, as if she didn’t want any more. She looked at him. “Are we safe?”

He hesitated. That hadn’t occurred to him. “Of course,” he said. “We had nothing to do with what happened in that trunk. We only found it. Apparently, someone out there has some vested interest in it and the people involved. The police need to find out who.”

“And by police, you don’t mean Noah?”

He shook his head. “I wish. He’s not experienced enough to deal with this kind of thing, though. Investigations are not his expertise. Steem and Wickwire are running the show. They’re having a press conference outside the police station later today.”

She stood and took her bowl to the counter. “And there will be more press than just you? Like when we found the trunk?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Two murders in a week, in a small town like Smokey Hollow. That’s bound to attract some outside attention. The dailies, the wire services, the state TV station, who knows, maybe even news outlets from Boston.” The thought was annoying. This was his town. No one else cared about it. Hell, he barely did. He watched Darcie scrape the remains of her oatmeal into the garbage.

“You need to be eating well,” he said.

“I know,” she answered, almost an apology. “Just not this morning. I might go down to Wibbels later and get some fresh fruit.”

Brian brought his dishes to the sink. He paused and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “We’re fine.”

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “It’s just things seem so rotten in this town all of a sudden.” She opened her eyes, drawing close to him. “And it feels like it’s our fault.”

“Why would you think like that?” He took her in his arms.

“If we hadn’t opened that stupid trunk, maybe none of this would be happening.”

“We can’t change that.” He reflected for a moment. “Besides, maybe it was a good thing we found it, before someone came looking for it.”

She pulled back, her brow furrowing. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

He hugged her. “Shush. And you know, bad things happened in Smokey Hollow before this. Remember that Timmy Birtch disappeared more than two decades ago. And that rib cage the fisherman found in the pound. They don’t know who that belonged to. And no one is trying to find out.”

She burrowed against him. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m just saying, bad things happen, and it’s not because of anything we did.” He stroked her hair. “Now, I have to go to the office and get ready for that press conference. Though I’m not sure what the point will be. Steem isn’t going to say a lot. Hopefully, they will have identified the body. Not that it matters, since I can’t publish anything about it for almost a week. By then, everyone will probably have lost interest.”

“I doubt that.”

“I wonder how the owners would feel if I suggested turning the paper into a daily.”

Darcie laughed, and it felt good to hear that sound coming from her, even if it was at his expense. “There isn’t enough news in Smokey Hollow for that,” she said.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “There seems to be an awful lot lately.”

At the office, Brian wrote up a base file for the Town Pound murder story. He had hoped to talk to Noah before the press conference and get some inside information, but Noah was off doing chiefly duties, whatever they were. Before the authorities had taken the body away that night, Brian had asked Noah if they had established an identity once the pillowcase had been removed from the woman’s head. Noah had told him the body was too bloated to be recognizable and that there was nothing on the remains to identify the person.

He wished he knew some people who were acquainted with Ruth Snethen that he could interview about the woman, in case it was her body, but he didn’t know anybody. He thought he might talk to Leo Wibbels again, since he had handled selling her house. There must be something he knew about her.

Looking out his office, Brian could see a van from the state TV station setting up in front of the police station. His stomach roiled and he grabbed a bottle of antacid tablets from his top desk drawer, popping a couple in his mouth and crunching them. He washed the chalky remains down his throat with the last of the black coffee in his mug. It was lukewarm, and he stepped out of his office to the coffee maker near the reception area.

He smiled at Beverly as he poured another cup. In the back, Isaac was pecking away at his keyboard, probably writing about the latest softball-league happenings. A sports reporter Brian could never be. Talk about mundane.

“Don’t forget this afternoon you’re meeting with Selectman Winch about the Dump Fest,” Bev said, almost as if she were reading his mind and reminding him that his job wasn’t devoid of monotony.

“Of course,” he said, sipping coffee that burned hot in his mouth.

He retreated into his office, thinking about the annual festival scheduled for the following weekend. It wasn’t actually held at the dump but on the grounds where the dump had once been, now just an open field on Blackberry Road north of Fogg Lane. It was the town’s big summer celebration, with food, crafts, and carnival-type games and activities. He needed to preview it, and that one definitely had to go on the front page. Dealing with Mrs. Picklesmeir was one thing, but this was run by the town selectmen.

He sat at his desk and was preparing to head to the press conference when Beverly buzzed him on his extension.

“What is it, Bev?”

“I have a call for you.”

“Who is it? I’m just getting ready to head out.”

“A woman, but she won’t give her name. She said she needs to talk to you.”

Needs? Brian thought. Not wants, but needs.

“Patch her through,” Brian said, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Hello,” he answered.

There was a pause on the other end, and he wondered if Beverly had screwed up the transfer, but that wouldn’t be like her. Finally a voice spoke in a hushed tone. “Is this Mr. Keays?”

“Yes,” he said. “Brian Keays, editor of
The Hollow News
.”

“I know that,” the woman said, irritated. “I know what you do; I just wanted to make sure it was you.”

Brian was annoyed, but knew he had to treat the public with respect. “And who am I speaking with?”

Again another pause on the other end. Brian kept an eye on the clock. The press conference would be starting soon.

“Will this conversation be kept private?”

An odd question he thought at first, till he remembered the notes he had been receiving. Could this be The Silhouette, though he had assumed it was a man?

“It will be kept private, but I need to know who I am speaking with.” He waited, worried that the woman might hang up.

“Okay,” she said. “I will take a chance.”

“Good. You can trust me.”

“Oh, I don’t trust anybody.” There was fear in the woman’s voice.

“I need to know your name,” Brian tried not to sound desperate, but he was afraid of losing the woman. He heard a deep breath from the other end of the line.

“My name is Ruth Snethen.”

Brian had been certain the body found at the Town Pound was the missing retired nurse, but now he had her on the phone.

“Is this for real,” he managed.

“Of course I know who the hell I am,” she spat.

He was worried he’d lose her. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I—”

At that he stopped, realizing that he was about to tell her he thought she was dead. But how would she react to that? Not very well, he assumed. “I didn’t think—”

“I was alive?”

“N-no,” he stammered. “It’s not that. I just wasn’t expecting –”

“You thought that was me they found at the Town Pound?”

He heard a touch of levity in her tone.

“I don’t know what I thought,” he admitted, throwing in the towel. “It’s been so crazy around here.”

“Well, it could have easily been me.”

“Where have you been,” Brian said. “The police are looking for you.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been hiding.”

“Why?” Though he thought he knew the answer.

“I’m afraid.” Short and simple.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Can’t you see what’s going on?”

“Let’s get together and talk,” he said, trying to sound soothing.

“I don’t know,” she said, hesitant. “I don’t know who to trust.”

“Tell me what’s going on.” He decided to ask the big question. “What do you know about the trunk I found in your house?” He could hear breathing on the other end of the line.

“Not on the phone,” she said, her voice hushed. “Someone could be listening.”

“Can you meet me somewhere?”

Again, silence. For a second he thought she was gone. Then he heard another breath.

“Meet me tonight.” She paused. “Alone.”

“Where?” he said, heart racing. “When?”

She paused, and he was again afraid she had hung up.

“Sunset,” she finally answered. “At the old train station.”

“Okay,” he said, trying to keep his tone calm. “I’ll be there.”

“And don’t bring anyone with you.” She was emphatic. “I mean it.” He knew she did. He heard fear in her voice.

“Don’t worry. I’ll—”

There was a click and the line was dead.

Brian sank back in his chair, his heart pounding. Wow, he thought. Ruth Snethen was alive and still out there somewhere. He had the urge to tell someone but knew he couldn’t. This was a source he definitely had to keep to himself. He couldn’t even tell Noah, and certainly not Capt. Steem. They hadn’t been able to find her, but he had. Not really. She had found him. But it didn’t matter. She was a big part of the puzzle, and maybe now some of the pieces would fall into place.

Brian smiled.

He gathered his camera and notebooks and headed for the door, stopped by his secretary.

“Who was that?”

He just smiled at her and left the building.

On the opposite side of Hemlock Avenue, a small crowd had gathered before a podium set up outside the police station. Half of the crowd was reporters from daily newspapers in the bigger cities. And there were the television crews. The rest of the crowd was curious citizens of Smokey Hollow. Selectmen Chairman Eldon Winch stood next to Leo Wibbels. Rolfe Krimmer was near the back, leaning on his Boston Post Cane. Mrs. Picklesmeir stood beside the old man and glared at Brian. Next to her was Jonas Fitchen, the taxidermist. The older woman with the youthful hair Brian had seen around town was there as well, this time wearing a chestnut wig curled to her shoulders. Hale Cullumber stepped out of his pub and leaned against the doorjamb. Brian wondered if the town’s shopkeepers had all closed to hear the press conference.

Brian heard a hum and saw the man in the motorized wheelchair maneuver down the sidewalk and stop near the front of the crowd. He was wearing his white Panama hat, which on a hot sunny day like this was probably a good idea. Brian already felt sweat beading on his scalp.

He glanced toward Main Street, his eyes drawn upwards to the hill beyond. Maybe because it was hot and the coffee he’d been drinking had left his throat warm and dry, his gaze fell upon the water tower overlooking the town. Or it could have been that he sensed what he now saw, a figure up on the tower. He could only guess that it was the same man he’d seen on the tower the day he’d visited the Mustard House. It was hard to tell, since the figure was small and indistinguishable in the distance. Once again, the man stood there looking down at the town, so he didn’t give Brian the impression he was a city worker. Maybe he could ask Eldon Winch about the man when he went to interview him about the upcoming Dump Fest.