A Vision of Murder (15 page)

“What are your questions?”
Mr. Robins asked, crossing his legs again.

“You wouldn’t happen to know
where Gary is, would
you?
” Dunn asked, after glancing
at Simms.

“Let’s see, now I would be
breaking some kind of law if I knew and didn’t tell you, wouldn’t I?” Mr.
Robins said slowly.

“You would,” Simms
acknowledged.

“Then, no, I’m sorry to say,
I don’t know where he could be,” Mr. Robins replied. His large wife smirked on
the porch.

“This is very important, Mr.
Robins. We need to speak to him.”

“Why is that?
He done
something wrong?”

“We have reason to believe
he may be connected with a very serious matter.” Simms paused and readjusted
his belt thoughtfully before continuing, “He’s lived on his own in that little
cabin for many years now, hasn’t he?”

“He has.
Nothing
wrong with that.”

“It would be hard to keep
track of the comings and goings of a man when he’s that far away, wouldn’t it?”

Mr. Robins didn’t reply.

Simms sighed, “Mr. Robins,
I’ve always been fair to you. I’ve warned you time and time again about
poaching animals.” This elicited a significant glance between the couple, but
their faces were so carefully controlled that not one of us could interpret
what it meant. “But this time, I’ve got to talk to Gary. He could be in serious
trouble here. If he would only talk to us, we’ll get him a lawyer. We’ll treat
him fair.”

Both of the
Robins had stiffened visibly when a lawyer was
mentioned. Apparently, they did not know why we were looking for Gary, only
that we were and had already searched his house.

“You know, you have been
fair in the past, but past
is
past. Here recent, you
searched the house of a young boy I happen to know well without even coming to
talk to us first. We find that a bit offensive. I know you think we’re just
country folk and only sometimes function within the realms
of the law.” He chuckled here. “When it suits us,
but… he’s been my nephew for many years. I dawdled that child on my knee as a
baby, watched him grow. We’ve been hunting together more nights than I care to
remember. I don’t know where you come from, but around here we don’t just give
up blood when an out-of-towner cop that we don’t know from Adam shows up and
demands it. I know him. I’ve taught him everything he knows. Maybe it’s not the
kind of heritage your family passes down, but our children tend to follow in
the footsteps of their elders.”

Dunn was glaring at them,
but Simms shot him a look that calmed him somewhat.

“Now.”
Mr. Robins unfolded and
stood, removing a pipe from his jacket. He tapped it slowly against his palm.
“I’ve got three sons. I have nigh on….” He
squinted
his eyes for a moment.
“Seven nephews.
I’m sure you
know that Gary was orphaned young. We’ve all done our best to care for him and
look out for him. And we will keep on taking care of our own. I’ve seen many
innocent men go to jail for crimes they didn’t commit.” He looked significantly
at both Dunn and Simms. “So I’m sure you understand why I’m not anxious to
trust you with someone who is like a son to me, whether or not he’s committed a
crime in your eyes. Now, you’re welcome to check with the other families up and
down this road. Most of them are relatives of mine and Gary’s. But you may want
to be careful.” He smiled and removed his pipe. Chuckling, he added, “Some of
these people around here, they’re mighty backwards you know. You might not get
as friendly of a welcome from them as we gave you.”

He paused and shifted his
hat back to scan the sky. The sun shone brightly down on us. “Beautiful day,”
he said simply, before looking each of us in the face, “and that’s all I have
to say to you.”

Mr. Robins turned his back
on us then and ambled towards his wife on the porch. She had clapped her hands
loudly together at the end of Mr. Robin’s speech. Laughing gleefully, she stood
and watched us.

“Mr. Robins,” Dunn called,
but the old man neither replied nor turned. He disappeared into the shadowy doorway,
followed soon after by his wife. “I don’t think,” Dunn said, turning to face
Simms, “that you should have mentioned the lawyer.”

Simms didn’t have a chance
to reply before Mrs. Robins turned to make one parting comment, “I wouldn’t
trust those dogs if I was you. Not with us out of sight.” We stood a moment,
glancing at each other without moving, but we didn’t pause to argue. We raced
back to the safety of the car.

“Relief
can come from none”

“Velma.” Sissy’s face was pale
as she glanced at Mrs. Dodd. “I don’t think I can read much more of this. It’s
just awful!”

“Sissy, if you stopped to
think about the things that happen outside of Temple every once in a while, you
would realize that a lot more goes on in the world outside of it than you can
even imagine.”

“But all
these girls… why, it’s just tragic.”
Sissy glanced back at the picture of a smiling
blonde.

“I know,” Mrs. Dodd said.
Her notebook had a list of names and dates in it, but she couldn’t see a real
pattern. It appeared that the killer habitually targeted girls, oftentimes
picking up runaways, streetwalkers and hitchhikers. But, sometimes, his victims
were victims themselves of opportunity. They happened to be in the wrong place
at the wrong time.

“It looks as if, most of the
time, the people who vanished were people that wouldn’t be missed.”

Sissy nodded. “That’s what I
think, too.” She was peering over Velma’s shoulder. Suddenly, she laid her hand
on the thin woman’s arm. “Velma, are you investigating those girls deaths? Be
honest with me. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You think that those girls
were killed by this man?”

Mrs. Dodd peered up at her,
her hands full of notes. “Do you?” She had tried listing each name and date on
cut up pieces of paper to find an order that would fit in with the discovery of
these girls, but so far she had been unsuccessful.

“Well, no,” Sissy replied,
sinking into the chair next to her friend, “I don’t. But I’m not sure why?”

“Maybe because he was in
jail for years before he died. If that was the case, then why would the real
murderer wait for him to die and then pop back up? I don’t see a break of more
than a year in between these girl’s deaths, and he even admitted that once he
started his killing spree, he didn’t go many months in between each victim. He
said there must be dozens that they hadn’t found yet.”

“Why didn’t he just tell
them where they were?”

“Because
he didn’t know himself.
Some bodies he just dumped randomly in dense areas. They may
never be found.” Mrs. Dodd gazed solemnly at her notebook. “And then, right
afterwards, he started denying that he was the killer.”

“Let’s just say he did kill
someone on average every six months, give us some leeway… then there should
have been several other girls found at state parks in the region he operated in
during the past few years, but I haven’t been able to find any reports or news
articles that mention anything of that sort.”

“So that leaves just one?”
Sissy asked, her hands moving nervously on the wood edged armrests of the
chair. Her rings sparkled and twinkled in the sunlight.

“Just one…” Velma said,
consulting her notes once again, “just one in all those years.” She squinted
hard, thinking.

“Oh, this mess just makes me
so jumpy!” Sissy cried out, “He can’t start murdering girls in our town! In our
park! What if he goes after one of our local girls?”

“I’m afraid that is
possible, Sissy,” Mrs. Dodd replied evenly.

“But
Velma!
We have to call the police! This is too much for us!”

“We can’t call the police,
Sissy.”

“But why not?”

“Because,” she lowered her
voice, glancing around the small room. That nosy librarian had been checking on
them frequently, getting in the way. Right
up
until Mrs. Dodd had asked her what exactly she had to do as a librarian. She
had left in a huff after that.

But Mrs. Dodd couldn’t risk
her overhearing what she had to say. “Because…” she continued, “I’m not
supposed to know this man is a suspect.” She jabbed at the spot in her notebook
where she had scrawled the suspect’s name.

“What?” A light of something
that resembled intrigue sprang suddenly into Sissy’s eyes. “Then how do you
know?”

“Never
you
mind
,” Mrs. Dodd replied sharply. “We’ll just leave it that I happened
to overhear this.”

“Well, if the police are
looking into it…” Sissy started, relaxing into her chair.
She’s always been
one of those people who automatically believed whatever she was told
, Mrs.
Dodd thought disgustedly,
so, of course, she believes the police are
competent. Some idiot must have told her that
. Mrs. Dodd had always been
much more suspicious.
Ever since Mary….

“But, Sissy, think!” A
startled expression appeared on Sissy’s face when Mrs. Dodd said that, as if
she hadn’t tried to think in years. “They’ve already put one man in jail. He
died there. If he didn’t do it, then someone else did. What if they put the
wrong man in jail again? Then the killer could kill whenever and wherever he
wanted!”

“Oh!” Sissy said, her
lipsticked
mouth actually forming the shape of an O. “Oh,
Velma! What if they do that? Then he could kill one of our girls!”

“That’s why we have to solve
this,” Mrs. Dodd said. “So… he only operated in state parks in the south.” She
thought a moment, before turning to Sissy. “I just can’t believe the man that
was put in prison was not the killer.”

“Why not?”

“Well, firstly, I don’t
think he would break his pattern at this point. It was a fairly well
established triangle between Georgia, Tennessee and Alabama, with a few on the
northernmost part of Florida.” She pointed out the triangle on the map she had
been drawing on. Dots lined the area in
a reasonably
established vicinity.

“Why, he’s never been this
far west before,” Sissy said. “Close… very close, but not quite Temple.”

“Sissy, I didn’t know you
could find our tiny town that fast.” Mrs. Dodd smiled at her friend’s fast
response.

“Velma, if there’s one thing
I can point out on a map, it’s my hometown. Any map, any time,” Sissy giggled,
her carefully manicured and painted fingernail resting heavily on the small
town of Temple. “Any well-bred
Templetonian
would
have the same gift.”

“You’re right about that.”
Mrs. Dodd looked carefully at her dots, each one representing a different
victim. She sighed.

“What was the other reason?”

“What?”

“What was the second reason why
you thought we wouldn’t have many parks with bodies?”

“Because I think he killed
those people before and I think he died in prison for his sins. I think this is
a new murderer.”

“Oh,
Velma, why?”
Sissy’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Because
one of these bodies wasn’t found at a state park.
Most people think that
cabin is on state park land, but it’s not. It’s right on the edge, privately
owned.”

Sissy’s head shook
vehemently as she bit her lip.
“
Mmmhmm
, by the Foresters.”

“Now the original killer,
John Carson White, always hid the bodies on park land and rarely was it on the
edge.”

“But the killer could have
thought….”

“I guess it’s just a gut
feeling as well, Sissy,” Mrs. Dodd said, her eyes shifting away from her
friends. It wasn’t safe for her trusting and gossipy friend with her theory.
Not yet.

“Psychic intuition,” Sissy
said knowingly.

“I guess you could call it
that,” Mrs. Dodd replied.

I did not want to accompany
the police to the next houses. I will admit that I was becoming frightened of
this family. Simms apparently had the same idea.

“I’m not sure if you should
come along with us when we try to question the others,” he said, as we paused
at the crossroads.

“It’s just not a good idea,”
Dodd chimed in. His blue eyes gazed steadily at me through the mesh wall that
separated us. “You understand, don’t you?”

“I understand completely.” I
could hear the obvious relief in my voice. Simms cracked a grin while Dodd
outright laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong.” I held
up one hand. “I want Gary to be caught, but this family is not what I would
call normal. If he’s the most normal one, then I don’t want to meet the rest.
I’ll just leave the investigating to you.”

“I am worried, though,” Dodd
said, “about leaving you alone with him on the loose. Now that he knows that
you’re onto him, he might target you.”

“I don’t think you have to
worry about me,” I said, an ironic smile on my face. “I’m not scared of the
living. The only thing that bothers me now is the dead.”

“Do they haunt you?” Simms
asked. A worried expression came over his face and I realized, with some
surprise, that it was me that he was worried about.

“They do,” I said softly.
“Every day.”

Dodd glanced out the window.
“News says a bad storm is moving in, but I’d swear they were wrong by the
weather right now.”

He was right. I had heard
the same thing on the news that morning, but right now, the sun shone strongly
down on us, warming my skin as it came through the window.

 “I hope not,” I said.
“I hate storms.”

“If you live around here for
long, you’ll have to get used to the weather,” Simms replied.

“You have a basement, don’t
you?” Dunn asked.

I nodded, surprised again.
“How did you know that?”

He shrugged. “Most of those
old houses do.”

The small room under my
house was not exactly a basement in the way that I imagined them to be. It was
more like a small cellar, accessible by a narrow staircase. I never went down
there, even during the three or four tornado warnings last spring. The farthest
I had made it was about three steps down, shining my small flashlight into the
dark abyss.

I had seen enough to know
that the small room was crowded and jumbled. Empty boxes seemed to spill out of
each other as if they were multiplying on their own. I couldn’t imagine a storm
bad enough to force me into that cramped space.

He continued to chat about
restoring old houses for the rest of the drive. We all need a break from the
case and the ten minute drive back to what I now considered, after meeting the
Robins, civilization gave us a brief respite.

I knew, as I climbed out of
the car and slammed the door, that the conversation would turn back to Gary and
his whereabouts as soon as I was out of sight.

Mrs. Dodd was disgruntled.
She had counted on finding some clue, some lead, and she hadn’t found anything.
Sissy thought they had done a fine job. She talked and talked about their
investigation all the way home.

Mrs. Dodd tuned her out, as
she had done so many times in the past. Sissy was wrong. They hadn’t found
anything of significance. And Mrs. Dodd was beginning to feel, deep in her
bones, that something bad was coming.

“Well, look at that.” Sissy
pointed to her granddaughter’s beauty salon on Main Street. It was still called
Miss Sissy’s, having originally been Sissy’s Beauty Parlor, but now it belonged
to her granddaughter, Cheri.

Mrs. Dodd glanced at what
had drawn Sissy’s attention. Jackson Reilly was getting his hair cut by Cheri,
and both were smiling into the mirror at each other.

“I never thought I’d see the
day when the two of them would make up.” Sissy slowed, craning her neck to peer
into the window. The car wheel jerked slightly to the left, as if the car was
being pulled by a magnet to park in front of the building.

“Death does that sometimes.”
Mrs. Dodd fiddled with her purse latch. “It can make large grievances seem
suddenly fairly small in comparison. It’s odd that life works like that. Can
you drop me off before you go investigating this mystery, Sissy?”

“I wasn’t going to stop!”
Sissy exclaimed indignantly as the car surged violently forward. “I’m not that
nosy.”

“You may not have been
planning to, but it seemed like your car certainly was,” Mrs. Dodd replied
smartly.

“Do you think things will
work out between them this time?”

“You mean as a hairdresser
and her client? It looked like it was going splendidly.”

“You know what I mean,”
Sissy said, grinning despite
herself
.

Mrs. Dodd did know what she
was talking about. Jackson and Cheri had been quite the couple all through high
school. Everyone had thought they would marry straight after graduation.
Instead, Cheri had proclaimed that she was intent on being a career woman. She
was going to beauty school before she settled down. Jackson had felt exactly
the same way. He didn’t like this little town, he had told everyone who would
listen. He was ready for bigger and better things.

And so
both had left Temple and each other behind.
Sissy had gone to Alabama
to a prestigious hairdressing school, or so she called it. Jackson had gone to
college, returning only now and then over the years.