Think Murder (10 page)

I was torn between relief and disappointment when Jonathan didn’t come in. The more time I spent with him, the more I liked him. His concern for my welfare felt sincere, but I had no way of telling if his interest was strictly professional or personal as well.

And then there was Bruce. I liked him, too. I could see myself getting to like him a lot. It was scary to think that he might be involved in Hilary’s death. Was I that bad a judge of character? What did I actually know about Bruce? Thinking back on the previous evening, I realized how little I knew. Our conversation had centered on me and my problems. Bruce had volunteered almost no information about himself. A physiotherapist who likes dogs and lives near the zoo. Truth or a cover?

Despite my best efforts to focus on something else, I kept thinking about Hilary’s murder and that disturbing note. If I kept telling myself “it’s only a prank” enough times, could I believe it?

My agitation continued to rise. I needed to do something constructive. If people were going to threaten me, then I had to find out why.

After a quick lunch, I powered on my laptop and started searching for anything that might be even remotely related to Hilary’s death or the Land Use Survey.

The few news items that mentioned Hilary’s death or a murder at McSweeney’s were from the days immediately after the murder. They added nothing to what I already knew.

Remembering that the outlier data was concentrated in one district in West Virginia, I revisited that district’s zoning board webpages.

I opened a file and dumped information into it, starting with the names and positions of each of the seven zoning board members. Then I searched for background on each of them. The Morningstone zoning board included the heads of the planning division, assessment division, and property management division, as well as a civil engineer. I pulled up short bios on the Morningstone website, complete with portrait photos. They weren’t a handsome bunch, but nothing stood out. Not that I knew what I was looking for.

Ronald Brookings, an environmentalist, also served on the board. An active proponent for land preservation, his name appeared a lot on the internet. My guess was he wouldn’t be connected to the repurposing of lands, instead he’d oppose it.

I wasn’t finding anything useful, and I was getting restless. I could go to Cutie Pie, but I was torn between wanting to run into Bruce and thinking maybe I should avoid him in case his appearance at Cutie Pie wasn’t only a coincidence. Besides, there are always lots of volunteers on Saturday, I probably wouldn’t even be missed.

The box containing Hilary’s camera had been on the shelf next to my bed since I had brought it home. With a touch of melancholy, I removed the camera and turned it on. The memory card had been wiped clean or replaced, I don’t know which, leaving me with a clean slate.

Camera hanging on a strap around my neck, I went to River Road Park. I followed the path around to the bench where I had sat with Duncan only a week ago. I sat down, content to enjoy the fresh air, the trees, and the flowers.

Lavender and pink hibiscus flowers bloomed in a nearby flower bed, and the leaves on the sycamore trees had already begun to change color. I don’t miss Massachusetts much, except this time of year, when the autumn leaves begin to fall. Doing my best to remember all of Hilary’s tips, I photographed the colorful flowers from a variety of angles and zooms.

My thoughts soon came back to Duncan. I couldn’t help wondering how Hilary’s death was affecting him. I pulled out my phone and messaged him. He called me within minutes.

“Adina, how are you? I was about to call when I got your message.”

“I’m OK. Kind of moody, but hanging in there. How are you?”

He sighed. “Hard to describe. The weekend is so much longer without anyone to share it with. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“I know the feeling. Wednesday after work, I kind of felt that way. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to McSweeney’s. It wouldn’t be the same without Hilary.”

I told him that Hilary’s dad had sent me her camera. “It was such a lovely gesture on his part – and I’ll cherish it.”

“I’m not surprised. He mentioned he might do that when I was out in Wyoming.”

“I have it with me here in the park. As much as I enjoy photography I feel funny about using it.”

“I understand, I’m sure Hilary would have wanted you to have it… You know, Adina, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past week, about Hilary and our relationship. I never felt that way about anyone before. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to fall for someone else like that again.”

“Well, thankfully, you grew up along the way and learned how to have a mature relationship, instead of non-stop flings.”

He chuckled, “I was pretty bad, wasn’t I? I guess I owe you an apology for the way I treated you back then.”

“No problem. It’s water under the bridge. I’m glad that we’ve managed to stay friends.”

“Me, too.”

“Duncan, give me a call anytime you need to talk.”

In no hurry to return home, I cut across the park and headed for a nearby shopping mall. Even though the high-end stores can be pricy, I love to prowl the sales racks in search of bargains. I wandered in and out of a few stores, but my heart wasn’t in it and the camera was getting in the way. I got some Chinese takeaway and went home.

I had just unlocked the door when my phone chirped. I didn’t recognize the number on the display.

“Adina?”

“Speaking.”

“Hi, it’s Bruce. How are you?”

Odd. I hadn’t given him my number. I would have, if only he’d asked.

“I’m fine. Thanks. How did you get my number?”

“When Joan told me you hadn’t shown up at Cutie Pie today, I asked her for it. You were so upset last night, I wanted to make sure you’re OK.”

“I’m fine, just a bit tired. Felt like staying home and resting today. How are you?” A car horn sounded in the background.

“Me, I’m fine. Stopped by Cutie Pie, walked a few dogs, and now I’m heading home.”

I was tempted to drill him about his job and his past. But if I did, he might end up thinking I’m a lunatic. Restraint won out. At a loss for witty small talk, I simply said, “That’s good.” Another example of my brilliant conversational skills under pressure.

He paused, then responded, “Glad everything is OK. Hope to see you sometime this week at Cutie Pie.”

“Me, too. Thanks for calling.”

After finishing my now cold chicken fried rice, I resumed my research efforts. So what if I didn’t know what I was looking for, I had to keep trying.

In addition to the guys I’d read up on earlier, two politicians served on the Morningstone zoning board – the local representative in the West Virginia State House of Representatives, Lauren Smith, and a U.S. Congressman, Mitchell Redmond.

Lauren Smith, a democrat, was in her first term in office. Born and bred in West Virginia, with a degree in law. A quick scan of her campaign platform and webpages showed that she was pro-conservation. Nothing remarkable, at least not that I could see.

Mitchell Redmond was a veteran politician. Second term in the U.S. House of Representatives, after having served two terms in the state legislature. His official portrait showed a confident, broad-shouldered middle-aged man. I skimmed various press releases, noting that he, too, seemed to be aligned with conservation interests. Specifically, one press release cited his support for the Tristate Land Preservation Coalition, and showed him shaking hands with Preston Lane, Chairman of the Coalition, at a fundraising event.

I was about to leave the website, but something compelled me to take a closer look at the picture. Redmond and Lane stood in the foreground, with several persons standing nearby. Positioned behind Redmond was a young man, with short dark hair. Although I couldn’t be certain, my gut was telling me that he was the young man I had seen at the Library of Congress. I was having trouble believing it was simply a coincidence.

I grabbed my phone and called Jonathan.

When he picked up, I was too excited to bother with greetings. “Listen, I think I found something. I was looking up information on the zoning board members, and I found a picture of the guy that might have been following me from the Library of Congress. I thought I’d been imagining things. Now I’m sure.”

“Slow down, Adina. I think I missed half of what you said.” I apologized for babbling and described my discovery again.

“Where did you find the picture?”

“On the internet, while I was browsing Congressman Redmond’s website. He’s one of the members of the zoning board.”

“Can you send me the URL?”

“OK. I’m looking at it on my laptop, I suppose I could copy it out and type it in a message – or I could email it to myself and access it on the phone and send it that way. Give me a minute.”

A few minutes later, Jonathan had received the link and opened it in his browser. “I see the picture. The congressman shaking hands with some environmentalist, yes?”

“Exactly. Look at the guy standing behind Redmond on the left. Our left, that is, not Redmond’s left. The guy with the crew-cut, wearing a blue suit and striped tie. I’m sure that’s the guy from the library.”

I paused to catch my breath. “See, I wasn’t imagining things. It can’t be a coincidence that he arrived in that particular part of the library when I was there, and then left when I did, and took the same train, and everything.”

“Interesting find. This might be an important lead. Unfortunately, the photo caption doesn’t give the names of the people in the background. I’ll check it out.”

“And, Adina,” he added, “I never said you were imagining things.”

I put down the phone and curled up in front of the TV. My attention wasn’t on the sitcom. It was only background noise. My thoughts were focused on Jonathan and the warm fuzzy feeling his voice had given me. Without a doubt, I had come to hope his interest was more than strictly business.

Alone in my apartment the next day, I was jumpy. I had neither seen nor heard any of my neighbors all day long. Hopefully, Daniel would be back from the Poconos later on.

A loud thud from somewhere caused my heart to skip a beat, maybe two, but I couldn’t identify its source. Maybe upstairs or near the front of the house, near the entrance. Pulse racing, I muted the TV and called George. A sigh of relief escaped when I heard the faint sound of his ringtone overhead. George was back and moving around upstairs.

When he picked up, I asked him about his vacation. Turned out he had spent a week in California visiting one of his brothers.

“Glad you had a good trip. Listen, George, I wanted to talk to you about a couple of things.”

“OK, sweetie, what’s on your mind?”

“First thing, your nephew almost gave me a heart attack. The other night I caught him watching me through my kitchen window. I didn’t know who it was, and I called the police.”

“Why did you have to go and do that? He’s just a kid.”

“I didn’t know who he was. He disappeared when I screamed. He shouldn’t be peering into my window. That’s not open for debate.”

He grunted. “I’ll talk to him. It won’t happen again.”

“As long as we’re talking security, George, I think it would be much safer if there was a gate on the passage to the basement apartments.”

“It’s plenty safe already. This here’s a good neighborhood.”

“It’d reduce the risk of someone lying in wait in the hallway when we come and go. Please consider it,” I pleaded.

“Security here is fine. No need to waste money on a gate.” End of discussion. For now, anyway.

Facebook kept me distracted for a good part of the afternoon. When boredom set in, I tried to start a new book – a mystery that a friend had loaned me. Although I love reading, this murder mystery hit too close to home. It was not turning out to be a healthy distraction.

Just past 6 p.m., I called my parents. I felt like talking. My mother was surprised to hear from me at that time of day.

“Adina, is everything OK? It’s only 6 o’clock.”

“Everything is fine, mom.” I fibbed to cover my tracks, “Might be going out later, so I decided to call earlier. How are you?”

“We’re great. Weather’s good. Your dad’s allergies are giving him a hard time. I keep telling him he should go back to that allergist. His whining and sniffling are driving me crazy.”

“Poor dad. I know the feeling. I’ve been sneezing a lot myself.”

“So how’s work going?”

“It’s been kind of hard lately.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Mom, do you remember my friend, Hilary, the one who was teaching me photography stuff?”

“Uh huh, you mentioned her a few times. From some place out west.”

“Yes. Wyoming. Well, she was murdered recently.”

My mother gasped. “Oh, honey, that’s terrible.”

I gave her a condensed version of the events, without telling her that I had been with Hilary that evening. And, of course, without mentioning that someone had threatened me.

True to form, she launched into a lecture on the dangers of living alone in D.C. Nonetheless, I was glad that I had told her about Hilary. I had needed to vent some of my sense of loss.

In response to her questions, I said that the police were investigating, that they hadn’t caught Hilary’s killer yet, and weren’t sure what the motive might have been. At one point in the conversation, without thinking, I referred to Jonathan by name, triggering a whole new set of questions.

“Jonathan? Who’s Jonathan? What’s his last name?”

I kicked myself, figuratively that is. “Jonathan is the detective in charge of the investigation.” To put her out of her misery, I added, “His full name is Jonathan Saks. Yes, mom, he’s Jewish. And no, mom, we’re not dating.”

“Why not? You’re already on a first name basis.”

“Yes, we are. That’s mostly because we have spoken to each other a lot. In order to figure out why Hilary was killed, he has to ask a lot of questions about her life, hobbies, work, and so on.”

“Adina, are you sure that’s all there is to it? You aren’t a suspect, I hope.”

“No, mom. I’m not a suspect,” I laughed.

“Is this detective nice? Maybe you can see him after the case is closed?”

“Mom, enough!”

“You can’t blame a mother for trying. So, Adina, have you given any more thought to coming home next week for the holiday?”

Although I hadn’t planned on making the trip to Massachusetts for the Jewish New Year, the idea of some home-style pampering and a break from work was starting to appeal to me.

“I’d like to. I’ll check my schedule at work, and let you know what I decide.”

“Adina, you know if money’s an issue, we’ll pay the airfare.”

“Thanks, mom. I’ll let you know.”