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.
“What the hell is going on?” Dean asked once the sheriff and his deputies had left. “A body?” Dean turned to his father. “Do you have any idea who could have been buried there?”
Hal shook his head numbly.
“We should get you back to the house,” Celia said with concern. “Hal, you have to get some rest.”
Sarah was struck by Jack’s gentle ministrations as he helped his uncle to his feet. “Try not to think about what’s happening back at the house right now,” he told him. “Look at all the people who came tonight. I think the whole town showed up.”
As a group they moved outside and all Sarah could think about were the remains found at Hal’s farm. She had so many questions, but the sheriff had cut her off, not willing or able to give them any details.
“Sarah,” a voice said from behind them, and Sarah and Jack turned to see Margaret sitting on a bench, brightened by a streetlamp just outside the funeral home.
“I told Margaret I
’d help her take the desserts she made to the church for the funeral tomorrow,” Sarah explained.
“I really appreciate Sarah’s help with this,” Margaret said. “My mom was going to, but her back’s been bothering her.”
“Can I help?” Jack offered.
“No, I can do it,” Sarah said. “You should go with Hal. He seems really shaken up.”
“Okay, see you back at Dean’s.” Jack leaned in to kiss Sarah, but she turned her face and his lips landed near her ear. He tried to mask his hurt at her rebuff with a smile directed at Margaret. “Thanks for helping with the funeral dinner. I know it’s a big job.”
“Glad to do it,” Margaret assured him.
Sarah watched as her husband climbed into the truck next to Hal. He didn’t even glance back at her.
“What was that all about?” Margaret asked, seeing the strained interaction between Sarah and Jack.
“It’s a long story.” Sarah dropped down onto the bench, the cold from the wrought iron seeping through her dress. “And besides, all hell just broke loose. Did you know they found a dead body at Hal’s?”
Margaret’s eyes widened. “A body? Who is it?”
“They don’t know or aren’t saying.”
Sarah followed Margaret to Saint Finnian’s. When they arrived, Margaret pulled out a key to the church and together they unloaded the desserts that the Women’s Rosary Guild had made for Julia’s funeral dinner.
Back in the parking lot, Sarah opened the trunk of her car and the two of them stared down at the box.
“So did you get all your questions answered?” Margaret asked.
Sarah shook her head. “Somehow I’ve ended up with more questions than answers. I don’t know what it is. But there’s something that just doesn’t seem right.”
“Do you want me to take a look? Maybe I’ll notice something you missed.”
“Sure,” Sarah said, shining her cell phone light over the box.
Margaret removed the lid, and thumbed through the contents until she came across the stack of photos. Slowly, she began flicking through the pictures, examining each carefully. “I’m just not sure what I should be looking for.”
“Wait,” Sarah said. “What’s that?” Together they looked at the photograph of Lydia on her back, one arm outstretched, a bloody cloth covering her eyes, her mouth contorted into a frozen scream.
Revulsion skittered across Margaret’s face but she continued to inspect the photo. “What is it? What do you see?”
“What does that look like to you?” Sarah pointed to a shiny glint of silver on the floor next to Lydia.
“Maybe a coin or a piece of jewelry.” She looked up at Sarah. “Is that what you’re thinking?”
“Yes. It’s a little hard to see, but it looks like a bracelet charm to me.”
Sarah turned the photo and took note of the number written on the back. “I’m not sure yet. But the other day at the hospital, Amy was carrying around a silver charm similar to this.”
Margaret shrugged. “Maybe it belonged to her mother, a kind of memento.”
“No.” Sarah shook her head. “Amy said she found it on the floor next to Julia when she discovered her at the bottom of the stairs. She thought it belonged to her.”
“That is a little odd,” Margaret conceded, “but a lot of people wear bracelets with charms on them.”
“It’s more than odd,” Sarah insisted. “Two women from the same family, both bludgeoned, both dead, and now both with a silver charm found near them. Look.” She tapped the photo. “Lydia isn’t wearing a bracelet or jewelry of any kind. Where’s the broken bracelet?”
“Maybe John took it after he killed her,” Margaret offered.
“But that doesn’t explain the charm that Amy found. Margaret, it can’t be a coincidence. It just can’t.”
“But John killed Lydia and all the evidence for Julia’s death points to Amy. Amy was only eleven when her mother was murdered, so what, you think that John killed Lydia and then came back and killed Julia? That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” Sarah asked, thinking of Jack’s purported sighting of his father at the hospital. Maybe he really did see him there. “I’ve got to talk to Amy. I need to ask her about the charm she found.”
“That’s impossible,” Margaret said. “At least at this time of night. It will have to wait until tomorrow during visiting hours.”
“I don’t want to wait that long. I’m going to Amy’s,” she said suddenly. “Do you want to come with me?”
“To Amy’s house? Why?” Margaret asked.
Sarah hefted the box from her trunk and transferred it to the trunk of Margaret’s car. “I want to see if I can find that charm in her house. Compare it to the one in the crime-scene photo.”
“How are you going to get in?” Margaret’s brows knit together in dismay. “You’re not going to break in, are you?”
“Not if I don’t have to, but I could use a lookout.” She looked at Margaret hopefully.
“That isn’t a good idea. Just wait until morning. Nothing bad is going to happen between now and then,” Margaret said firmly as she made her way to the front of the car, then stopped abruptly. Something had caught her attention, and she rose on her toes to get a better look. “What’s that?” she asked.
“What?” Sarah peered into the darkness, but saw nothing.
“That.” Margaret pointed to an object tucked beneath the windshield wiper on Sarah’s car.
Sarah leaned forward and squinted. “I don’t know. Hold on a sec.” She moved to the front of the car and lifted the wiper, retrieving the item from beneath. “It’s a watch,” she said, handing it to Margaret. “At least, part of one.”
Margaret shone her cell phone light on the object. It was the face of a watch attached to half of a grimy stainless-steel band. It was a Seiko with a silver face and black hands with the day of the week and the date where the Roman numeral III should have been. “God, my dad used to have a watch like this.”
Sarah leaned toward her. “My dad did, too. I bet every father from the ’70s had a similar one. Why would someone put an old, broken watch on my car?”
Margaret shrugged and handed the watch back to Sarah. “Maybe someone found it on the ground by your car and thought it belonged to you. You didn’t notice it on the drive from the funeral home?”
“No.” Sarah shook her head. “I’m sure I would have seen it. Someone must have put it there when we were down in the church basement.” Sarah eyed the parking lot. The street was obscured by a row of honey locust trees. Was someone watching from behind a lacy veil of leaves? It was dark and completely deserted except for their two cars. Behind the church lay the cemetery with its wrought-iron fence gate and acres of smooth ivory headstones rising from the earth. “It’s pitch-black out here. How would someone even see the watch on the ground?”
Margaret inched more closely to Sarah and looked around warily. “And why would anyone be walking through the parking lot at this time of night? Maybe we should call the sheriff.”
“And say what? Someone put an old watch on my car? There’s nothing criminal in that.” Sarah strained her eyes, trying to take in her surroundings to see if anyone was skulking nearby. “Compared with what he’s dealing with right now, this is nothing. Besides, won’t he wonder why the two of us are out here alone in a deserted parking lot?”
“We’d just tell him the truth, that we were delivering food for the funeral. But it still creeps me out,” Margaret said, drawing her jacket more closely around herself. “Where are you heading to now?”
“I guess I should go back to Dean’s.”
“Well, text me when you get back to the house, so I know you got there safely. And go straight to Dean’s,” Margaret ordered, pointing a red-tipped fingernail at her. “I’ll see you at the fun
eral tomorrow.”
“See you,” Sarah said. “And thanks for all your help, Margaret.” Sarah quickly climbed into her car, locked the doors, tucked the watch into her purse and made sure that Margaret got into her car safely. Though Sarah had been avoiding going back to the house and didn’t look forward to the tension that was sure to greet her there, she was curious to learn more about the remains in the cistern. It seemed, Sarah thought fearfully, that every time she went back to that house another secret was uncovered, another crack in her marriage appeared.
17
SHE TURNED ON her phone after having silenced it for the wake and immediately it buzzed. It was Gabe, her editor.
“Sarah,” Gabe said shortly.
Sarah was startled by his sharp tone. “What’s wrong?”
“I tried to call you, sent you emails and texted you. I was getting worried.”
“I had my phone turned off. I’ve been at Julia’s wake,” Sarah explained as she watched Margaret pull away from the parking lot. “Were you able to find out where the emails are coming from?”
“No, not yet. I’ve got one of our tech guys checking on it. But I did a little digging.”
“What kind of digging?” Sarah asked.
“After you told me about Jack not telling you how his mom really died, I checked it out. I have a contact at the Cedar City Gazette, Burt Wenstrup, who did an in-depth exposé on the murder back in the day.”
“I read his articles. I found them online.”
“I called Burt yesterday. He runs the newsroom now but has never forgotten this case. He had lots of theories about what really happened to Lydia Tierney, but most of what he learned was small-town gossip and couldn’t be corroborated. So of course he only wrote the facts, but he’s never been fully satisfied with the outcome.”
“No one’s satisfied with the outcome,” Sarah said. “Is there a way you can send me his notes electronically?”
“Yeah, but let me give you the highlights. Burt talked to a lot of people. Only a few could come up with names of anyone who may have wanted to kill Lydia Tierney and the last person on the list was her husband.