Secrets Can Be Deadly Page 7

  “Did you hear bells a second time?” Mason asked.

  “Nope. Just once. Why?” Bart said.

  “If someone had been in the house and they tried to get out the back door, you would have heard bells a second time. Or, the trespasser could’ve hidden in a closet or under the bed until you left to wait in your car.”

  “That’s creepy.”

  “That’s why you should always leave your house if you suspect something is wrong.”

  “I’ll remember that next time. Nothing’s missing. It’s not like my grandma has much. She’s a pretty frugal person.” Bart paused. “There’s one thing that’s new—a flower arrangement in the bedroom. I don’t ever remember seeing it. I’m going to be late for work. You need anything else?”

  “Sign the report, then you can go. I’ll have an officer drive by the next few days, see if there’s any activity. I’m going to look around, if you don’t mind. I’ll lock up. You may want to stop by once a week. Call me if you notice any other suspicious activity.” Mason handed Bart his card.

  “Yeah, great. Thanks.” Bart walked away, then turned back. “If you don’t have to tell my grandma, that’d be great. Her heart is weak and this would worry her. I don’t want her to get upset.”

  “I’ll call you if I have any questions. Have a good day, sir.”

  Mason spent the next half hour looking through the house. Nothing out of the ordinary in the living room, kitchen, or bedroom. He noticed the sink in the bathroom was wet, fresh toothpaste splatters on the faucet. No toothpaste or toothbrush in sight. Someone had been in the house. The person was careful. Very careful. But not perfect.

  Mason took the bells off both doors before locking the house. He stood at the squad car and looked up and down the street to see if anything caught his eye. His hand was on the door handle when he heard a voice.

  “Yoo-hoo.” An elderly woman walked across the street. “Did she die?”

  “No one has died,” Mason said. “What’s your name? You live nearby?”

  “I’m Patricia Oakley. Live over there.” She pointed to her house. “Is Elizabeth okay?”

  “It looks as though someone may have been in the house. Have you seen anyone unusual recently?”

  “Oh my!” Patricia said. “No, no one out of the ordinary. Do I need to be worried?”

  “It looks like an isolated incident. Here’s my card. Call me if you see anything strange.”

  “I will.” She looked at the card. “Thank you, Officer Pierce.”

  “Have a good day,” Mason said. He watched the woman walk to her house. He sat in the car and jotted a few notes on the report.

  It was ten o’clock when Mason returned to the station. Billy Arnold was in the chief’s office. He thought the chief must be telling Billy about the promotion.

  George walked up to Mason and whispered, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  Mason nodded. “Make it fast. I’ve got paperwork to file.”

  “The Chief made an announcement this morning that it was mandatory for everyone to attend the staff meeting this afternoon. What do you think that means?”

  Mason rolled his eyes. “I think he means he wants everyone at the meeting. There’s probably a big case going on and he doesn’t want to have to repeat all the details.”

  “But why wait until this afternoon?”

  “George, relax. What did I tell you on your first day? Just do your job. You’re acting like a schoolgirl. Stop it.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “Get back to work.”

  George sat at his desk and made a phone call. Mason thought he was probably calling his girlfriend to ask her what she thought.

  Mason finished writing his report and put it in the Chief’s box for review. He walked past George’s desk. “I’m taking an early lunch today. See you at the meeting.”

  Mason drove home. He wanted privacy when he made the phone call to Jean.

  “Clerk’s office. Rene speaking.”

  “Jean Reynolds, please.” Mason’s voice felt shaky.

  “Hang on.” She didn’t bother to ask who was on the line or even put the call on hold. Mason could hear chatter in the background. He hoped Jean would have some useful information.

  “Jean Reynolds. How may I help you?” She sounded like she’d just ran a marathon.

  “Jean, it’s Mason Pierce. You were going to do research on my mother, Evelyn Pierce.”

  “Oh, yes. I did find some information. I’d like to make a copy and send it to you.”

  “That would be great.”

  “I found a birth record and marriage license for your mother, along with some information on other family members. One thing I didn’t find was a death certificate. I looked two weeks before and after the date you gave me.”

  “I appreciate your help. I’d be grateful if you could mail the information today.”

  “No problem. Sorry I couldn’t find everything. You should have the packet in a couple days.”

  Mason ran his fingers through his hair. Why couldn’t she find a death certificate? He knew the exact date. He would have to ask his father, though he wasn’t sure how he’d bring up the subject again.

  The conference room was full at one. George sat in the front row. Even the night shift officers had been ordered in for the meeting. Chief Franklin entered the room, followed by Mayor Cramer.

  “Thank you for attending this meeting,” Chief Franklin said. “Before the rumor mill starts, I wanted to tell you in person what’s happening. I’ll be retiring at the end of the year. I’m recommending Billy Arnold for my position. This recommendation needs to be approved by Mayor Cramer and the City Council next month.”

  Billy stood and turned to his fellow officers. Everyone applauded.

  “This has been a difficult decision, both professionally and personally. I want each of you to show Officer Arnold the same respect and diligence you’ve shown me the last fifteen years. Upon approval next month, Officer Arnold will begin training. That means a spot will open in December. Keep your eyes and ears open for any potential recruits. Thank you for your support. Now, get back to work.”

  Everyone stood and applauded again.

  George nudged me. “I didn’t see that one coming, did you?”

  “Congratulations, Billy.” Mason extended his hand as Billy walked by his desk.

  “Thanks. It’s a lot to take in. I’ve got big shoes to fill.”

  “Billy.” Chief Franklin was calling him over to talk to the Mayor.

  “His life just changed,” George said.

  “Get back to work, George.” Mason sat and motioned George to do the same. He opened a case file, but all he could think about was the missing death certificate.

  21 Sunday, December 25, 1977 (Sam)

  I watched the second hand—click, click, click. Five o’clock. I couldn’t sleep. Today was going to be my first real Christmas in ten years. The only difference between the holiday season and any other day at Grandfather’s was the same fake tabletop tree, year after year.

  This year I felt alive. I’d helped Connie decorate the house with ribbon, garland, and lights.

  Harold had chopped a pine tree from the farm. The three of us had spent hours getting the tree straight in the stand, decorating it with lights, ornaments, tinsel. I had the honor of putting the angel on top.

  Connie had spent the last two days baking cookies—spritz, peanut butter blossoms, harlequin dippers, snickerdoodles, chocolate chip oatmeal. The house filled with the smells of cinnamon, chocolate, vanilla.

  I wrote in my journal—a memory. I woke up early, staring at Santa’s presents scattered underneath the tree. Mom saw me and let me pick one present. It was a silver watch, elastic band. Mom slipped it on my wrist, then tucked me in bed.

  I wondered what happened to my mother. Was she alive or dead? Either way, I’d never forgive her for leaving me with Grandfather. Until the last few months, I never knew what living was like. Now, I had freedom to come and g
o as I pleased, friends at the grocery store where I worked, and, most importantly, a family that loved me.

  I dozed off, journal in my arms. Two hours later, I woke to the smell of hazelnut coffee. After a shower, I changed into a red long sleeved t-shirt and jeans. Walking down the stairs, I could hear Andy Williams singing White Christmas. Harold and Connie were sitting on the couch.

  “Ho, Ho, Ho. Merry Christmas!” Harold said.

  “You’re certainly in a jolly mood this morning,” I said.

  “I hope we didn’t wake you up too early. We wanted to listen to the Christmas music on the radio. FM 88.6 is playing the oldies from seven to eight.”

  “No, I was awake.” I lied just a little. “I’ve been thinking of past Christmases, missing my parents and brother.”

  “Come sit, Sam,” Connie said in a comforting voice. “You’re too young to have lost both your parents. You’ve grown up to be a respectable person. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “That means a lot. Merry Christmas.”

  We sat on the couch for the next thirty minutes listening to Christmas music. Burl Ives, A Holly Jolly Christmas. Judy Garland, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. Elvis Presley, Blue Christmas. Gene Autry & The Pinafores, Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer. Perry Como, Home For The Holidays. Bing Crosby, Do You Hear What I Hear. Johnny Mathis, Silver Bells. Brenda Lee, Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree. Dean Martin, Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow! The Platters, I'll Be Home for Christmas.

  Harold turned off the radio at eight. “Guess it’s time to open presents.”

  “Sam, why don’t you hand them out?” Connie said.

  I felt like Santa Claus. I picked up a small rectangular box and handed it to Harold.

  Harold shook the package, opened it. “A dozen bandanas. These will come in handy next summer. Thank you, Sam.”

  The smile on my face lasted an hour while we opened gifts. I gave Connie a jewelry box and a snowman stickpin. Harold gave her a toaster, slippers, and a butterfly necklace. Connie gave Harold a bottle of Old Spice cologne, a set of screwdrivers, a leather wallet.

  The first present I opened, blue socks. The next, black socks. I was hoping for a gift that wasn’t something to wear.

  The last box was heavy. I tore off the wrapping paper. It was a camera. My very own camera. It came with two rolls of film, two flip flash, and a carrying case. I jumped off the floor and gave Harold and Connie the biggest hugs.

  “The film and flash are expensive, so be mindful when you’re taking pictures. Also, you’ll have to think of the cost to print the pictures,” Harold said.

  “I took the liberty of going to the library and getting you a few books on photography.” Connie pulled them from underneath the sofa.

  “This is the best Christmas ever!” I said. “I’ll definitely read these books. Thank you so very, very much for everything!”

  “And thank you too, Sam,” said Harold.

  “Sam, why don’t you pick up the mess? Harold, you’re on pancake duty. I’ll start the eggs. I’m hungry!”

  I spent the afternoon reading the photography books, learning depth of field, the use of lighting, how to correctly use the flash, ISO, ambient lighting, how to handle the background of a photo, the proper way to handle negatives, overexposure, and how to frame the subject in a photo.

  I took the camera out of the box and read the instruction manual. Before putting the film in, I tested the camera to make sure I knew how to use it correctly. I couldn’t wait to add my first photo in my journal.

  I thought carefully about what would be the first picture I would take.

  Walking outside and down the driveway, I took a picture of the farm. This picture would always remind me of the happiest time of my life.

  At four-thirty, we went to the neighbors’ house. Jacob and Jill Hendricks were an elderly couple. Their only child was in the army and couldn’t come home. We’d been to their house for dinner a few times. Jill was a great cook. The turkey was juicy, the skin crispy. She also made stuffing, yams, green bean casserole, and an orange gelatin salad. Connie brought rolls and pumpkin pie.

  I stayed up late and wrote in my journal. I didn’t ever want to forget how loved and happy I felt. A perfect day.

  22 Friday, February 8, 1980 (Mason)

  The phone rang at five. Mason had been having a wonderful dream—fishing off the pier, sun bright, warm. He woke up to a cold winter day in Iowa.

  “Pierce.” Mason’s voice was groggy.

  “Sorry I didn’t stick around to say hello yesterday. You’ll see me another time.” Click.

  What was the caller talking about? He had to think what had happened the prior day. The house. The empty house. The caller had been in the house, but got out before Mason arrived. This definitely wasn’t a prank his friends were playing. He had to decide whether it was smart to make it a case and bring it to the Chief. All he had were a couple of notes and a few phone calls. If anyone brought this kind of information to him, Mason would dismiss the case based on lack of evidence.

  “That was a great meal,” Mason said as he patted his stomach. “My sufficiencies are suffancifulled.”

  “I laugh every time you say that expression. Where did it come from again?” Sophia asked.

  “Jeff’s dad said it after every meal. Means the food was fabulous, you’re stuffed, and can’t eat another bite.”

  Sophia ate the last bite of stroganoff. “Well, I guess my sufficiencies are suffancifulled, too.” Sophia laughed.

  Mason picked up both plates, silverware. “My turn to do dishes. You relax.”

  After Mason had done the dishes, he sat next to Sophia on the couch and took her hands in his.

  “I got another phone call this morning. This guy wants something from me, but I don’t know what.”

  “You’re scaring me,” Sophia said.

  “The guy doesn’t seem violent. He’s never angry. Always in control. He’s toying with me.”

  “You’re a great cop. You’ll figure it out.”

  “I’ll need you to pay extra attention to strangers. This guy broke into an empty house.”

  Mason held Sophia tight. He thought back to the morning’s phone call. You’ll see me another time. This guy had better like handcuffs and jail.

  23 Friday, January 13, 1978 (Sam)

  Connie rushed in my bedroom. “Come quick, Sam. It’s Harold.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We need to get to the kitchen. Hurry!”

  Connie didn’t wait. I untangled myself from the covers and rushed downstairs. Harold and Connie were standing by the kitchen table.

  “Happy Birthday, Sam!” Harold and Connie sang in unison.

  My heart stopped. On the table, a two-tiered birthday cake and two presents. Tied to the chair were three helium-filled balloons, a white, a yellow, and a silver with Happy Birthday on it. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and quickly wiped it away.

  “I’m hoping we surprised you,” Harold said.

  “Oh my, yes. The best surprise. I never expected anything like this,” I said.

  “We’re glad. It was hard to keep everything out of sight last night,” Connie said. “Sit, Sam. Open your presents.”

  I sat, savoring each moment. I took the smaller package and held it. The wrapping paper was red with white polka dots. Taped to the top, a white bow.

  I carefully took off the paper, opened the box. Inside was a key chain with the word SAM carved in wood dangling from a silver key ring. I ran my finger over my name.

  “I found it in a shop in Dysart last week. I hope you like it,” Connie said.

  “I love it.” I took the key chain out of the box and held it up to the light. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had anything with my name on it.”

  “Open the other present,” Harold said.

  This box was larger than the first, heavy. This time I tore off the wrapping paper. I lifted the box top. Inside, a dark blue photo album with SAM etched in gold.

&
nbsp; “I had a few reprints made of pictures of your mother and grandmother. They’re in the front. The rest of the pictures are since you’ve been living here. There’s extra room in the back for you to keep adding memories,” Connie said.

  Holding back tears, I looked at Harold and Connie. “It’s the most beautiful gift ever. Thank you.”

  “Now you have a place to put all the pictures you’ve been taking since Christmas,” Harold said.

  I had been putting most of the pictures in my journal. Harold and Connie didn’t know about my journals. Never would. The journals were my secret. The leftover pictures I could put in the album instead of using an old shoebox.

  “I tried a new recipe. I know how much you like chocolate and cinnamon. The batter is a white cake, mixed with bananas and cinnamon. The frosting is chocolate with a hint of cinnamon. We’ll have the cake after dinner,” Connie said. “I’m going to make your favorite. Pork chops with spinach and dumplings.”

  “Thank you, Harold. Thank you, Connie.”

  “Not to spoil the fun, Sam. But you better hurry and get ready.” Harold pointed to the clock. “You don’t want to be late for work.”

  It was seven o’clock. I needed to eat breakfast, shower, and get dressed in half an hour.

  “Oh, my gosh. I think I’ll have cereal. Is it okay if I take the bowl to my room and finish while I get dressed?” I had never done this before. I always ate breakfast at the kitchen table.

  “I think we can make an exception today,” Connie said.

  24 Tuesday, February 12, 1980 (Mason)

  An envelope was sticking out of the mailbox when Mason got home after his shift. It was the package from Jean Reynolds.

  Inside, a note. I hope this is the information you were looking for. Please contact me if you need anything else.

  The first document was a birth certificate. His mother’s name: Evelyn Mildred York. Mother: Mildred Tally York. Father: Ernest Dwight York. York. That name was in the Ponders’ obituary.