5 Murder at the High School Reunion Read online

  I fixed breakfast, let it settle, Wiied, and showered. I was amazed that I’d done all of that by 9:15. I’d just finished dressing when the phone rang. I hoped it was the department telling me that someone had confessed. Actually, I was hoping it was Jennifer, but the department ran a close second. Okay, a distant second, but second.

  I answered the phone to hear the voice of someone from desire number two.

  “Lt. Dekker, I’m calling to let you know that McPeak’s Funeral Home called to say they didn’t find what you want, but they have something else and want to know if you might be interested in that.”

  I thanked my caller and reflected on what she had to say. What did it mean? McPeak’s didn’t know what happened to Miriam Van Meter, but if I’d be interested in another body that was shipped to Tanzania by UPS Air they would be glad to fill me in. Why would I be interested in someone else? As far as I knew, Jimmy Conkwright had killed only one girl by driving drunk.

  I called Lou to let him know that McPeak’s called with a message in code and that we would run by there to see what the coded message meant.

  “I got a coded message, too, Cy.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, I have our message of the day, and I don’t understand what it means. You might want it now, Cy. This one’s a message you might want to Google.”

  “Well, let me have it.”

  “Cy, why can’t you say that when I’m standing beside you, and you’ve just done something to irritate me?”

  “Lou, you know I never do anything irritating, but you have, so let me have it.”

  “Mark Dinning.”

  “That name sounds familiar. How do you spell it, Lou?”

  “I T.”

  “Lou, how about when I see you, you say let me have it?”

  “M A R K.”

  “That’s enough, Lou.”

  “Okay, goodbye, Cy.”

  “Just spell the last name.”

  I wrote down the name as he spelled it, and then realized he was merely guessing, since God hadn’t written it down for him.

  “I’ll give this Dinning guy a quick glance. Then, I’ll come on over and we’ll beat it to McPeak’s.”

  “I don’t figure this one will take you as long, Cy.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It’s a guy. You won’t click on all the swimsuit pictures.”

  “You know me. Now, I only have eyes for Jennifer Sharp.”

  +++

  I Googled “Mark Dinning.” It didn’t take me long. As soon as I read it, I knew why his name sounded familiar. He was a singer. His one big hit was Teen Angel. It came out a little before my time, but I’d heard the sad song many times, about the girl who was hit by a train because she went back to get her honey’s ring. Another reference to a dead teenage girl. I turned off the computer and dashed for Lightning. I wanted to know what McPeak’s had for us.

  +++

  I filled in Lou on he way to McPeak’s.

  “Well, it seems like God keeps hitting us over the head with a dead teenage girl. Maybe Miriam Van Meter has more to do with this case than it seems.”

  I pulled up in front of McPeak’s. Lightning could park herself. I wasn’t blocking anyone, and with today’s clue, I was anxious to hear what McPeak’s had to say.

  “Oh, hello. Lieutenant. Did you get my message?”

  “I did, but I didn’t understand it.”

  “Well, you asked for bodies shipped out of town. Would you be interested in a teenage girl that wasn’t shipped out of town?”

  “I’ve already checked with the cemetery. No teenage girls were buried there in May twenty years ago. You are talking about May twenty years, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, and while we do have only one cemetery in Hilldale, occasionally we have someone, particularly in a rural area, who has some acreage, who wants to bury their loved one on their own property, and also some rural churches have their own cemeteries. It’s just that neither of these are common practices anymore.”

  “And you say that you have a teenager who died in May of that year who was buried somewhere here other than at the cemetery?”

  “That’s right. Let me get the name. Let’s see. Here it is. It’s Sarah Jane Spickard. A Mrs. Elizabeth Spickard signed for the body. We even delivered it and buried her. She was buried on Mrs. Spickard’s property on Flat Rock Road. It says here that Mrs. Spickard was Sarah Jane’s mother and her father was Earl Spickard. The ceremony was private. The family wanted all the particulars kept quiet. It says the victim died in a car crash.”

  Lou and I turned to leave. As we walked out, I realized that Earl Spickard was near the bottom of those I would have suspected, but suddenly he had rushed to the top. That meant we needed to talk to him. Would we get a confession? Was our ordeal almost at an end?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lou and I talked as we drove out to Spickard’s place.

  “I have to admit, Lou, that retired janitor was near the bottom of my list of those who I thought might have done it.”

  “Same here, Cy. But it seems that now he has to be the one.”

  “I know. That’s what bothers me. Nothing is ever as hard or as easy as it seems.”

  +++

  As I drove out into the country, I hoped that there was some other explanation. I didn’t want Earl Spickard to be our killer. I wasn’t sure who I wanted instead of him, but for some reason, I didn’t want it to be him. And yet, it looked like he had to be the one.

  We pulled up to the dead end. I parked and locked Lightning, and we got out with heavy hearts. Maybe it was the grimness of the occasion, but I felt like we were being watched as we made our way through the trees to Spickard’s cabin. Was Spickard sitting there somewhere in the trees, aware of why we’d come back, with a rifle aimed at us. I listened for banjo music, but heard nothing. Sometimes, it’s worse to hear nothing than to hear something. Before long, we would realize that this was one of those times. But not yet.

  We walked slowly, carefully. Our heads darted from left to right, scanning the forested area, looking for someone who might not be our friend. While there wasn’t that much of a clearing, only a few feet on each side of us, and sometimes not that much, I hated being out in the open where someone could pick us off one at a time. I motioned for Lou to move as close to the tree line as possible. That way, maybe someone would pull one of us into the trees instead of shoot us. I figured if someone was out to get us, it was only one someone. I thought that two fat boys who had started working out could handle one person who put his gun down, especially if that one person was an old man. While I didn’t want to be shot at, I didn’t want Earl Spickard to get away, either. He knew the woods and the river better than we did. There’s no telling how long it would take us to find him if he went into hiding. Considering how everyone else felt about the deceased, I was sure that others would be willing to help him, and not us. At least so far no one seemed eager to help us.

  A couple of minutes later, I could see the cabin through the trees. I had no idea if Spencer was in there, out in the woods, down by the river, or if he had left town. I would soon find out. As quietly as possible, Lou and I walked up to the cabin. We reached the door, listened for a moment, and then knocked. I heard footsteps walking toward the door. Spickard was home.

  Spickard opened the door and looked at us. He had no weapon.

  “We’re back, Mr. Spickard. May we come in?”

  “Shore. I told ya boys to come back anytime. Make yourselves at home.”

  We sat. I paused for a moment, decided to hit him with it right away.

  “Mr. Spickard, we know about Sarah Jane.”

  “I was hopin’ ya wouldn’t find out.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, for years, her momma, who’s been dead nigh on fifteen years now, kept her as close to her apron strings as she could. Nobody knowed ’bout us. We live so far out and all. So, her momma kept her at home for years, did all of her school learnin’ here.
Sarah Jane done alla her work, and she was a right smart little girl if I do say so myself. Only Sarah Jane growed up and wanted to go to school with other boys and girls. This didn’t set well with her momma, and they argued a might ’bout it, but in the end Sarah Jane won out. Only, as it turned out, she lost.”

  A lump formed in Spickard’s throat, and tears formed in his eyes.

  “If Sarah Jane was gonna go to school, she had to go to the county school. Only Sarah Jane had a problem with that. Her daddy was the jan-e-tor. She didn’t want anybody to know that the fella who cleaned the toilets and swept the floors was her daddy. So, she changed her name. Her momma, who was right smart too, came up with some paper that made it look like Sarah Jane was transferrin’ in from some school in Tennessee. Got away with it, too. She passed herself off as that Miriam girl you asked me ’bout before. She wouldn’t even look at me if’n she saw me when she was walkin’ down the hall. She was ashamed of her own daddy. Then I seen it. She tried to impress everybody, make them think she was somebody. She took the rowboat to school, so nobody’d know where she come from. I don’t think nobody ever found out, until you come here today. She jist got too big for her britches, and it ended up costing her her life. I didn’t like that Conkwright boy afore it happened, but I’ve hated him ever since.”

  Cops are supposed to remain impartial, unemotional. But sometimes that’s hard. I sat there, trying my best to stay composed, when I wanted to get up and put my arm around that man and tell him that he was somebody, no matter what his daughter thought.

  I gave him a second to compose himself, and then did what I had to do.

  “Mr. Spickard, I have to ask you this. Did you know that woman was with him when you locked him in the freezer?”

  He looked at me dumbfounded.

  “What woman with who? In what freezer?”

  I’d never thought of Earl Spickard as someone who could be a good actor. His incredulous look seemed so genuine.

  “Jimmy Conkwright.”

  “I didn’t know how he died. I didn’t care how he died. I’m just glad he’s dead, after what he done to my Sarah Jane.”

  “So, you’re saying that you weren’t the one who closed the freezer door and locked Conkwright and Betty Gail Spencer inside?”

  “I didn’t lock nobody nowhere.”

  “Do you have anyone who can verify that, Mr. Spickard?”

  “I don’t know. I just know I took Duck to the school. He goes in aheada me. I walk in, go to the restroom and find my friend Walter Gillis. Walter and I was together the whole time I was in that school, until I left to come home. I never seen Conkwright or Duck’s wife neither one.”

  “And you don’t know who locked those two people in the freezer?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

  He showed no animosity toward me. While his whole declaration was full of emotion, he didn’t come across as a murderer. I wondered if I was any closer to finding the murderer than I was the day before. Of course I would check on Spickard’s alibi, but I knew I couldn’t arrest him yet, if at all, and I had to talk to other people. We visited with Earl Spickard a few more minutes, tried to calm him before we left. I mentioned that we might come out sometime and let him show us where the fish were biting. He said he’d enjoy that.

  +++

  We excused ourselves and headed back to Lightning, relieved that that much was over. There was still a murderer to catch, whether that murderer was the man we’d just left, or someone else.

  We walked through the trees a little faster. I thought of all the people I planned to talk to in order to check up on Spickard’s alibi. I would talk to most of them. Maybe if one of them wasn’t willing to give Spickard an alibi, that one might actually be our murderer.

  +++

  We continued to walk until we neared the road. I looked over at Lou and noticed the incredulous look on his face. I turned from looking at Lou to looking in the direction Lou had been looking, which caused my look to match his.

  “Where’s Lightning?”

  My yellow VW beetle, my other trusted companion, was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t like Lightning to take off without me.

  I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like a missing kid, where I could look behind each tree until I spotted him or her. Cars don’t hide behind trees. Even intelligent cars like Lightning.

  “What do we do, Cy?”

  “I don’t know. What do people usually do in a situation like this?”

  “Call the police.”

  I refrained from uttering the obvious.

  I stood there, thinking of my options. My pride and joy was missing. I wasn’t thinking on all cylinders. Some of them were working, however. I knew that even though I’d become a stud on the Wii, there was no way Lou and I were in shape to walk to town.

  Earl Spickard’s place was closer than the house where Duck Spencer lived. I didn’t notice on the way out if Spencer was home or not, but I knew the old man was. I also knew that Earl Spickard hadn’t taken Lightning. He was with us the whole time. Well, not the whole time. But I doubted that he could have stolen Lightning, taken a roundabout path through the trees, and still beat us to his cabin, even if we were walking slowly.

  I also knew that Spickard didn’t have a phone, and Duck Spencer did. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would’ve gone to Duck Spencer’s place, instead. If I’d done so, I’d found my trusted companion much quicker, but I wasn’t thinking clearly, so I hollered, “Come on, Lou,” and took off running as fast as I could to Spickard’s cabin.

  He was standing in the door as we came to a stop, out of breath.

  “Why is you boys in such a gosh darn hurry? Oh, I get it. The facilities are out back.”

  I shook my head “no” that that wasn’t it.

  “Well, I don’t speck you is wantin’ to fish so soon. Think of another question?”

  By this time, I was starting to breathe normally again.

  “Someone stole our car.”

  “You’re kiddin’.”

  “I wish I were.”

  “Must be those Clough boys. Orneriest dadblamed boys. I’ve had to run ’em off from here from time to time. Live up in them hills somewhere. Meaner’n snakes.”

  “I suppose you boys need a ride to town. Got my boat out back. You boys are pretty good size boys. I’m not sure the boat would hold all of us, but I’d be glad to loan her to ya, as long as ya bring her back in a couple of days.”

  I was not ready for another boat ride, but I figured riding in Spickard’s boat was better than walking. Or was it? I looked at Lou. He wasn’t happy with our choices, either. But then we didn’t want Spickard to think we were afraid of riding in his boat.

  “Okay, Mr. Spickard. But are you sure it will hold both of us?”

  “There’s only one way to find out. Come on, boys.”

  Chapter Thirty

  We arrived at the river and looked at the skimpy craft that would soon hold my body, but hopefully not my dead body. It looked a little better than the rowboat I was in before, but was far from the cabin cruiser I hoped he had. And, the boat had more amenities than my previous craft. I was thankful for those amenities, even if all they were were two paddles. But I wasn’t thankful of much else about my upcoming trip upstream.

  Spickard gave us instructions on how to paddle, recommended that we start with one of us paddling on the left side and the other on the right, and then switch sides periodically. He refrained from laughing at how gingerly we stepped into his boat. In a few frantic seconds, both of us were seated, and while water didn’t come pouring into the boat, the aluminum antique did set lower in the water than it did before we boarded. Spickard could see our consternation, and shouted a few words of encouragement as he pushed us out into the flowing river.

  I knew that Spickard was standing there watching us. I reprimanded Lou once for turning around to check. As soon as Lou realized we were out of Spickard’s sight and hearing, he began.

  “Row, row, ro
w, your boat.”

  “I’ll row your boat if you don’t stop.”

  “I sure hope so, Cy. After all, isn’t that what we’re both supposed to be doing?”

  I frowned at him and then realized that he couldn’t see my frown.

  “Say, Cy, did you ever see the movie Titanic?”

  “No, and you didn’t either.”

  “But I know the ship sank.”

  “Yeah, but that was a long time ago, and that ship was in a lot more water.”

  “And it was a lot bigger boat, too.”

  “That’s enough, Lou.”

  “Just remember, Cy, I’m in front. That means I’ll be on the lookout for icebergs, at least until dark. How many days do you think it will take us to get back?”

  The thought of icebergs did little to improve the sweltering heat. August 1 was almost upon us. It seemed to get hotter every day. I seemed to get smellier every day. Well, at least the days I spent on the water. I was interrupted by Lou’s most recent ejaculation.

  “Land ahoy!”

  “Lou, do you see anyone on shore anywhere?”

  “No.”

  “Remember that. And remember the guy in back can swing his paddle better than the guy in front, allowing him to hit the guy in front.”

  “But if the guy in the back knocks out the guy in the front, the guy in the back has to do all the rowing.”

  “That might be the only thing saving you at this point.”

  “Yes, your majesty. Does that mean I’m in the galley and you’re cracking the whip?”

  “Absolutely!”

  Lou shut up and I was able to hear the birds, what ones were out on that hot day. I wondered if most of them were buzzards and vultures. The whole experience had an Alfred Hitchcock feel to it, which was okay if I were sitting in a recliner, watching, but not so good if I’m one of the two doofuses in a small boat. I was alone with my thoughts until an approaching land mass loomed just ahead.

  I looked at Lou, who had stopped paddling and seemed to be in a battle with his face. Evidently, the circumstances had already begun to affect his brain. Mine, too. I’d begun to think of Lou as someone who could paddle, or, if not, ballast that must be thrown overboard to lighten my load.