Missing Pieces (21 page)

“Sarah?” Celia called again, this time from the living room. “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready,” Sarah called back, trying to keep her voice light and casual, her eyes darting toward the cellar door. Silly, she told herself. There was nothing down there anymore. Nothing to be afraid of.

16

SARAH AND CELIA
drove separately, Sarah in the rental and Celia in Hal's truck. Hal was hopeful that the sheriff would be finished searching the property and he would be able to go back home after the funeral. They arrived at the funeral home, a large Victorian structure, half an hour early, but already the townspeople of Penny Gate and the surrounding area were gathering. Sarah spotted Jack and Dean standing outside talking to a small group of mourners. As soon as Jack saw her, he came to her side.

“I'm so glad you're here,” he whispered. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow. The clothes that Sarah had bought for him to wear didn't quite fit. The shirt cuffs were too long and the hem of his pants hung to the floor, the fabric pooling around his ankles.

“Did you get a chance to talk to Amy today?” she asked.

“Just for a few minutes.” He adjusted the knot in his tie. “She insists she has no idea where the bale hook came from, says that Dean was the one who brought it over in a box filled with other things.”

“Do you believe her?” Sarah asked, resisting the urge to help him with his tie. A small gesture she would have gladly performed just a few days before. Now she could barely look at him.

“I want to,” he said as they entered through a side door where the funeral director was waiting to escort them to the viewing room. “But right now everything's pointing to Amy.” Situated throughout the room were dozens of pictures of Julia. Pictures of her as a baby in her baptism dress, as a child in a First Communion dress, as a young woman in her wedding dress. There were pictures of Julia with Hal and Dean through the years. Jack paused in front of one of the pictures and lingered for a long moment.

Once he moved on Sarah lagged behind to get a better look. It was a picture of Julia with Jack's mother, their arms linked, beaming smiles on their faces. It looked as if it was taken at a family celebration, a birthday or graduation, maybe. They looked content, as if all was perfect in their worlds. Unexpectedly, there were also several pictures of Amy with Julia. Generous, Sarah thought, since Amy was sitting in jail for Julia's murder. She was sure that Celia had a hand in making sure that Amy was included.

The casket Hal had chosen for Julia was a simple stained cherrywood casket, handmade in Dubuque. He had chosen a closed casket for Julia due to her many injuries. “I just wish I could see her one more time,” he kept saying over and over to anyone who would listen.

“I'm sure the funeral director can arrange that for you,” Sarah said, trying to console him. “I bet they do that all the time.”

The funeral director lined them just to the right of the casket that was surrounded with dozens of bouquets of flowers sent by friends and family: irises and roses, mums, ferns, potted plants and a small tree to plant in Julia's memory.

Soon Sarah was shaking hands and accepting hugs from complete strangers who all had one thing in common: they had adored Julia.
Such a sweet soul
, one elderly woman said, holding on to Sarah's hand for a long time.
A good, good woman
,
said another.

The line seemed to stretch on forever. It extended the length of the large viewing room and snaked out a door and around a corner. Sarah felt a hand on her arm and she turned back to see Margaret, dressed all in black and accompanied by a woman with the same stalwart stature and red hair, who Sarah assumed was Margaret's mother.

“Jack Tierney,” Margaret said softly. “Is that really you? I haven't seen you since you were a boy.”

Jack squinted, trying to put a name to the face. “It's Margaret McDowell,” Margaret said. “Now Margaret Dooley. You don't remember me? I babysat you and Amy.”

“Of course,” Jack said, “Of course I remember you and your mother.” Jack turned to the elderly woman and embraced her. “Vivienne, it's so good to see you again.”

“Jack.” The woman's lips trembled with emotion. “I miss your mother every single day.”

“I miss her, too.” Jack blinked back the moisture that was collecting in his eyes. “Vivienne, Margaret, this is my wife, Sarah,” he said, clearing his throat.

Sarah extended her hand in greeting. “Margaret and I met the other day. Good to see you again,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual.

“I've got kids now,” Jack said, pulling out his phone. “Elizabeth and Emma. They're freshmen in college.” Jack showed her his screensaver, a picture of the girls standing on the shore of Larkspur Lake.

“Beautiful.” Vivienne smiled. “They have Lydia's smile, I think.”

Sarah stepped out of line to get a bottle of water from the small room where the family kept their personal belongings. Margaret followed close behind.

“I have the box in the trunk of the car,” Sarah said quietly, unscrewing the lid from the bottle of water and taking a drink.

“I can get it after the wake,” Margaret said.

“I've just got to figure out a way to get away from the others,” Sarah said, taking a sip of her water.

“You could tell them you offered to help me take some of the food for the funeral over to the church basement,” Margaret suggested.

“That should work,” Sarah said, glad to know that she would be getting rid of the box soon. “Did you hear anything more about what's going on at Hal's?”

“Just that the crime-scene team from Des Moines brought a dog with them,” Margaret explained.

“A dog? Like a drug dog or search dog?” Sarah asked, taken aback. “Why would they do that?”

Margaret shrugged. “I don't know. The sheriff didn't say. He's been trying to keep everything hush-hush so the newspaper doesn't find out.”

Vivienne and Jack were still talking when Sarah stepped back into the receiving line. “So good to see you, Jackie,” Vivienne said, placing a gnarled hand on his cheek.

Jack smiled. “No one's called me that in years.”

Vivienne turned to Sarah. “Nice to meet you, Sarah. You take good care of this boy.”

Sarah nodded but couldn't bring herself to answer out loud.

Margaret and Vivienne reiterated their condolences and moved onward with the promise of seeing them at the funeral the next day.

Twenty minutes later, just as Hal was shaking hands with the last guest, Sheriff Gilmore walked in with a deputy that Sarah didn't recognize.

“Hal, boys, I can't say how sorry I am about Julia. She was a fine woman.”

Hal nodded, his eyes welling with tears. “We appreciate that, Verne. Thank you.”

“Everything finally squared away at Dad's?” Dean asked stiffly. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Well, that's one of the reasons we're here.”

“Can we go back to the house?” Hal asked. “Can't you talk to us there?”

“That just isn't going to be possible right now.” Gilmore's face was unreadable, but Sarah sensed that something was terribly wrong. Why else would the sheriff show up at the funeral home on the eve of Julia's funeral?

“Let's take a seat,” Gilmore suggested.

“Just spit it out,” Dean said impatiently. “Can't you see how tired my dad is?”

Celia put a hand on Dean's arm. “Shhh,” she chided. “Let's sit down. Your dad has been standing for over five hours.”

Gilmore sat and cleared his throat. “In the course of searching your house, Hal, we made an unexpected discovery.”

“What kind of discovery?” Dean asked shortly.

“First of all, you know that we found items in Amy's house that were suspicious. Initial findings from the medical examiner confirm that the blood on the bale hook is the same blood type as Julia's. That and some other evidence led us to arrest Amy. She was arraigned this morning.”

“What other kind of evidence?” Dean asked.

“We did a luminol test for blood on the steps,” Gilmore began.

“But we know that Julia fell down the stairs. Doesn't it make sense that there'd be blood?” Celia rose from her seat and stood behind Hal, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“We found some on the steps, of course, but that's not where we found the concentration of blood,” Gilmore went on. “It appears that Julia was attacked at the top of the stairs. The luminol test showed significant blood splatter and that someone tried to clean it up. The medical examiner also gave an official cause in Julia's death.”

Sarah glanced around at the small group. Everyone looked expectantly at the sheriff. Only she seemed to know what was coming next.

“Julia was poisoned at the hospital in the hours around the time of her death,” Gilmore said. He watched their faces carefully and Sarah made a point to widen her eyes as if she was learning this information for the first time.

“Poisoned?” Hal asked in disbelief. “You think Amy poisoned Julia?”

“Of course he does,” Dean said angrily. “Who else could it have been?”

“I can't believe this,” Jack snapped. He leaned forward in his chair toward Dean. “Amy loved your mom. There's got to be another explanation.”

“Like what?” Dean asked. “A bale hook with my mom's blood on it was found in Amy's house. I don't need any more proof that she did it.”

“That's funny, Dean,” Jack said, his voice tight with anger, “because Amy thinks
you
did it and planted the bale hook in her house.”

Dean stood, looming largely over Jack.

“Sit down, Dean,” the sheriff said sharply, and Dean halfheartedly complied. “Hal, right now, it looks like Amy bludgeoned and poisoned Julia. We don't know why yet, but we are going to do our best to find out.

“And I'm afraid I have more bad news.” Gilmore pressed his lips together grimly. “We didn't just find drops of blood on the stairs. We found remains. In an old cistern. We found a body.”

Gilmore was met with stunned silence.

“A body?” Celia was the first to speak. “Whose body?” she asked incredulously.

“That we don't know. It's too soon to tell. It could have been there for quite a while or placed there recently.”

“What does that mean?” Dean pressed. “A week, a month, a year? That old cistern hasn't been used for years and years,” Dean continued. “Since before I was born. I remember moving the cover when I was a kid and my mom giving me hell for it.”

“It's an old farm,” Hal added. “Julia and I moved there nearly fifty years ago and it was a century farm then. Bought it in an auction.”

Gilmore nodded. “The old Larsen farm.”

“Any Larsens around anymore?” Jack asked.

“Not for years,” Celia said. “Remember that nutty old lady who lived on Grover Street. She was a Larsen.”

“Vera Larsen,” Hal recalled. “That's who lived there before we did. Died back in '69 or '70. Had to been a hundred years old.”

“When you say remains, do you mean a body, bones, what?” Dean asked.

“I'm not able to share that just yet,” Gilmore said.

“Is Hal in danger? I mean, could whoever killed Julia have killed the person you found?” Jack asked.

“I don't have any reason to believe Hal's safety is at risk. We turned the remains and other items over to a forensic specialist who will try and figure out when and how the person died. Hopefully she'll be able to identify who it was.”

“What other items?” Jack asked.

“Looks like some clothing. We're still hoping to find some form of identification.”

“Do the remains belong to a man or a woman?” Sarah asked. “Do you think it has anything to do with what happened to Julia?”

“That question certainly comes to mind, but we just don't know. We didn't want to get too close and disturb the remains. We don't know if it's male or female. We'll leave that to the experts,” the sheriff said.

Sarah had been watching him carefully. Though he portrayed himself as a reluctant interloper delivering more bad news to the family, she also knew that the timing was calculated. Gilmore wanted to share the news of the body on the property when they were at their most vulnerable and he could gauge their reactions.

She also knew Gilmore was being less than forthcoming. He most likely knew exactly what was inside that cistern along with bones.

“This couldn't wait?” Celia spoke up. “You had to come to the funeral home? This time should be about the family and remembering Julia.”

Jack slid Celia a grateful look.

“Just trying to do my job, Celia. We'll try to be respectful of your privacy the next day or so, but we will need to talk with each one of you.”

Sarah wasn't ready to let the coincidence of Julia's murder and the discovery in the cistern go just yet. “What made you think to look in the cistern?” she asked. “It's a long way from where Julia fell.”

“I don't have any more information to share with you at this time.” Gilmore looked levelly at Sarah. “But if you think you might know something that might be helpful, you know how to get ahold of me.”

Gilmore rose and stood next to Hal. “Hal, I'm so sorry about all this. Celia is right, you should be able to lay Julia to rest in peace, but we haven't had a murder in Penny Gate in twenty-five years. Now in the past week we have Julia's murder and possibly another.”

Jack's face was difficult to read, but Sarah thought she caught a wisp of something. Worry, guilt?

“When can I go home?” Hal asked. He looked up beseechingly at Gilmore. “I really just want to go home.”

Gilmore looked down at Hal for a long moment and then spoke. “That's not possible right now. The property is a crime scene and will remain so at least until tomorrow. Stay away until I give you the okay to return. Again, sorry to bother you folks tonight,” Gilmore said, “but I wanted you to hear the current updates directly from me.”

In turn, Gilmore shook everyone's hand, including Sarah's. The look he gave her was implacable, but still she felt he was trying to communicate something to her through the tight grip he had on her hand.
Be careful
, it seemed to say. Or maybe she was projecting her own fears.