Dark Truth (10 page)

“So Eddie was railroaded by the two who planned the whole thing. You’re telling me he was just a good kid who got caught up in something that got out of hand?”

“Eddie was a good kid.” Dolly turned her face back to the window, and that was that.

Regan had felt there’d been a whole lot more to the story, but something in the set of Dolly’s jaw made it clear that there’d be no more questions entertained about Eddie Kroll. Even Regan’s offer to take the widowed Dolly to dinner at one of the area’s nicest restaurants hadn’t been enough to bring Dolly around. Regan had spent two more days in Sayreville, but she wasn’t able to get Dolly to return her calls.

Now, back home, Regan tried to look back on her conversations with Dolly with a bit of detachment. There’d been something off about the woman, Regan had picked that up the minute she met her, but there was something more, some question that had lingered on in her mind for days. And there’d been something that Stella had said . . .

Well, it would come to her. Right now, that cold November wind was picking up again, and her whirlpool bath was calling her name. There’d be time enough later to review her notes so she could go over them with Mitch when he drove out on Friday night. Though maybe she wouldn’t wait that long. Maybe she’d call him later and give him a few names to run down for her. She’d met a lot of people out there in Sayreville, some related to Eddie Kroll, some who claimed to be childhood friends. Their stories had all been the same. Eddie’d been used by the older guys, set up just as surely as Joey had been. Eddie came out of juvenile hall and vanished. They’d all heard he’d died, but no one seemed to know where, when, or how.

As she turned off the downstairs lights and started up the steps, it occurred to her that she’d returned from her fact-finding trip with just as many questions as answers.

T
welve

Nina stretched to reach the ringing phone she’d pushed to the farthest corner of her desk without looking at it. “Nina Madden.” As soon as she heard the voice on the other end, she wished she’d checked the caller ID.

“Nina, it’s Kyle. Damn, but you are hard to get ahold of.”

“Oh, Kyle, hi. I’m sorry, I’ve been really busy, and I . . .” She rested her elbows on the manuscript she’d been reading and put her head in her hands. He was the last person in the world she felt like dealing with.

“Hey, not a problem. I’ve been busy myself. So tell me how you’re doing? Besides busy. Everything all right up there in the Big Apple?”

“Everything’s fine, thanks. How are you doing? You and Marcie talking things out?”

“Not really. I don’t know how that’s going to go, frankly. We’ll see. Listen, while I have you on the phone, I called the car rental place and they told me that if you’d left a box in the trunk of the car, they’d have sent it on to you.” He paused. “Did you get the box back yet, Nina? It should have arrived by now.”

Busted. Damn.

“Actually, I did get it back, Kyle. I’ve been meaning to call you about that.”

“So, did you read the letter that Stephen wrote to my mother? Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be so curious, but all things considered—him dying so soon after he wrote it, her dying recently—it’s just been on my mind.”

“I can understand that.”

“So, do I get to see it?”

She hesitated just a little too long.

“Nina?” His voice was a little more forceful.

“Actually, Kyle, I don’t think you want to read it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I think the contents will upset you.”

“Nina, I think I can handle whatever it was your father had to say to my mother.”

She bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t bring herself to say,
Dad thought your mom was the killer.

“Nina?”

“Let me do this. I’m going to be in Maryland over the weekend at a friend’s house. She doesn’t live too far from Stone River. How about I meet you at the Oak Drive house and show you the letter. I think it’s better that you read it yourself.”

“Terrific. What day works best for you?”

“How about Saturday afternoon?”

“That will be just fine. Thanks, Nina. I’m looking forward to reading it. And to seeing you again, of course.”

“I’ll talk to you then.”

Kyle said good-bye and hung up. Nina dropped the receiver into the cradle and put her head in her hands. She berated herself for not being able to carry through with the lie she’d planned on telling. And why couldn’t she have just said, yes, the box came but the letter isn’t in it? What would have been the problem with that? Now she’d have to face Kyle, hand over the damned letter, and let him read it.

She couldn’t even begin to wonder how Kyle was going to react. Well, she’d find out soon enough. Today was Thursday. She’d be leaving for Regan’s after work tomorrow, taking the train into Newark, Delaware, where Regan would pick her up. Regan and Mitch had plans to visit the vineyard they’d invested in, and would be leaving on Saturday morning. They’d have all Friday evening to powwow, as Regan called it. By then she’d have made some notes on the case, and was hoping to be able to talk it over with Mitch before Nina arrived on Friday.

Nina was hoping they’d be able to come to some studied conclusion. Either there was a chance that her father had been telling the truth, or he’d been playing some cruel hoax on Olivia.

She couldn’t help but dismiss that thought. She’d never have suspected her father of being capable of that kind of cruelty.

Then again, no one would have suspected him of being a murderer, either.

She pushed it all from her mind. There were decisions to be made on the manuscript she’d been working on when the phone rang, and she had to make them before the end of the day. She’d deal with Kyle—and her father’s letter—over the weekend.

“You must be Nina,” said the tall, good-looking guy who stood on the deck behind Regan’s house.

“I am. Mitch?” She walked toward him while Regan parked the car back near the garage.

“Right.” With his right hand, he shook hers. With his left, he grabbed her overnight bag. He turned to Regan and asked, “Where’s my pizza?”

“I’ll have to go back out to get it. I forgot the number so I couldn’t call from the car.”

“That is the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard,” he told her. “But no matter. I have come prepared. I have three really nice steaks marinating in the fridge.”

“You do?” Regan stopped in her tracks.

“I do.” He nodded.

“You’re my hero.” She kissed him on the side of his mouth.

“Damn right I am.” He followed the two women into the house. Once inside, he held up Nina’s bag and asked, “Which room?”

“I put her in the room at the end of the hall,” Regan told him. “We’re supposed to have a fabulous moon tonight, and you’ll be able to see it from that little balcony if you want,” she told Nina.

“I’ll take it right up. Be back in a flash.”

“Thanks, Mitch,” Nina said. “Regan, did you finish going over those notes I left for you?”

“No shop talk till after dinner,” Mitch called as he headed upstairs with Nina’s bag. “Gives me indigestion.”

“He’s cute,” Nina whispered.

“In a slightly geeky sort of way.” Regan grinned.

“I don’t see the geek factor.”

“You’ve never watched him on the computer.”

“Besides,” Mitch was saying as he came back down the steps, “I’ve been up to my ears in bad guys this week. Let’s put it on ice for just a little while.”

“That’s fine with me,” Nina said, then turned to Regan. “Besides, I’m dying to know what you found out about Eddie Kroll while you were in Illinois last weekend.”

“I don’t think I learned a damn thing about him, although I did get some insight into the murder he was sent away for.” Regan frowned. “Oh, and I found the house he grew up in. His brother and sister-in-law are living there.”

“You met his brother?” Nina’s eyebrows rose.

Regan nodded and took a plate of cold shrimp from the refrigerator and placed it on the counter. She hunted up napkins and small plates.

“Dig in,” she told Mitch and Nina. “And yes, I met his brother, Carl. The last of the Kroll brothers, they said.”

“Well, what did he tell you about Eddie?”

“Just that he caught a bunch of bait fish when he was a kid and tried to cook them for dinner by dumping them in a frying pan.”

“That’s it? You didn’t ask him what happened to him?”

“Wouldn’t have done any good.” Regan bit into a shrimp. “He has Alzheimer’s.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. The wife, Stella? Claims she met Carl after Eddie died. Or disappeared. Or whatever the hell it was that happened to him.”

“And this woman you went out there to meet?”

Mitch piled a mound of shrimp onto a plate and excused himself to start the grill.

“Well, she did give me a lot of information about the actual crime that Eddie was convicted of. It seems Eddie was duped by two older boys into taking part in killing one of the kids from the neighborhood. Eddie thought they were going to rob the kid. Eddie’s part was just supposed to be to lure the kid to a vacant lot. The others knew the victim wasn’t going to leave that lot alive.” Regan perched herself on one of the counter stools. “Which doesn’t make Eddie an upstanding citizen, but doesn’t make him a hardened killer, either.”

“And you got all this from Dolly?”

“Yes.”

“So she was helpful,” Nina pointed out.

“Yes, but reluctantly. And there’s something funny about her.”

“Funny in what way?”

“Evasive. She clearly knew a lot more than she was telling me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get her to break and spill all of what she knows.”

“Why would she call you and have you come all the way out there, if she wasn’t going to tell you everything?” Nina helped herself to a few shrimp.

“I have no idea. But I know there’s plenty she was holding back from me. And there was something else, too, that I thought was weird.”

“What’s that?”

“Every once in a while, I’d find her staring at me. Not in a rude way, just . . . staring. I can’t explain it.”

“Maybe she’s a fan and was impressed to have met you.”

“We never discussed the fact that I’m a writer, and my father’s name was never brought up.” Regan seemed to consider that for a moment. “That in itself is odd. Everyone always asks about my father. Dolly never mentioned his name.”

“Maybe she didn’t make the connection.”

“Maybe.”

“So where does that leave you, as far as Eddie Kroll is concerned?”

“It leaves me trying to figure out my next move.” Regan reached for another shrimp.

“It leaves you in my capable hands.” Mitch came in through the back door. “Give me a few hours with the names of those buggers and my computer, and I’ll find something for you.”

“I’m counting on it. I think at this point, if I had some direction, I could figure it out.”

“I’ll do my best.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You want to check those baked potatoes I put in the oven before you got home while I throw the steaks on the grill? Nina, you could get the salad out of the refrigerator and toss a little dressing on it.”

He opened the refrigerator door and grabbed the dish that held the marinating steaks and was out the door in a flash.

“Does he always take over the kitchen like this?” Nina asked. “Not that that’s a bad thing.”

“Only when it’s his weekend to cook.” Regan grinned and opened the oven door. She poked at the potatoes with a long-handled fork. “They look perfect.”

Nina tossed the salad while Regan set the table in the breakfast room for three. Within ten minutes, they were seated and eating the steaks Mitch had expertly prepared.

“So tell me more about this vineyard you two bought into,” Nina said.

“Not much to tell yet,” Mitch replied. “We’ll know better in the spring if any of the grape vines are going to make it. They’ve been overgrown for so many years, we’re still not certain if all of the vines weren’t choked out by the weeds and trees that had sprouted up.”

“And we thought the trellises could all be salvaged, but it turns out that most of them have to be replaced or, at the very least, repaired,” Regan added.

“It sounds like an interesting project, though,” Nina said.

“We’re all sort of captivated by the idea,” Regan told her. “I really hope it works out. For one thing, because it is, as you say, interesting and could probably be fun, if we can make a go of it. And for another, it’s fun to be in business with your friends, people you care about. We all have high hopes for this venture.”

“I hope it’s a huge success,” Nina said.

“Thanks.” Regan smiled. “We do, too.”

“So, now that the dinner hour is winding down, let’s talk about Nina’s dilemma.” Mitch placed his knife and fork across his empty plate. “Regan has already filled me in on the background. We’ve talked about what we feel we need to do.”

“Shoot,” Nina told him.

“Here’s our idea.” Mitch leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually over Regan’s shoulders. “We think we want to try approaching this as if we were trying to prove that Dr. Madden was in fact innocent. The prosecutors proved to a jury’s satisfaction that he was guilty. We’re going to look at their evidence and see if that holds up, or if the same information can be turned around to prove his innocence.”

“Where’s their proof, in other words, Nina.” Regan touched her arm lightly. “What did they use, and what, if anything, did they miss?”

“To hear Detective Powell tell it, they didn’t miss a damned thing,” Nina told them. “He was pretty adamant that my dad was guilty and trying to prove otherwise was a colossal waste of time.”

“Well, it’s our time, right?” Mitch noted. “Besides, I’m intrigued by the idea that your father continued to maintain his innocence, yet privately believed he was taking the blame for someone else. Usually, if someone is trying to get out of a conviction, and he knows or has reason to suspect that someone else committed the crime, he wastes no time giving up the name, believe me. Especially in a murder conviction. But confiding in the person he supposedly believed was guilty, and not giving her name to the police? That’s a new one.”

“You think he could have been just playing with her?” Regan asked.

“He claimed to have loved her. Would he have been so cruel to someone he loved?”

“And then there’s this matter of the rapes,” Mitch said. “How could Dr. Madden have thought his wife was guilty, if in fact the girls had been raped?”

“We’ll need to take a good look at the evidence there, see what they had.” Regan nodded. “Right now the main question in our minds is, were the girls really raped?”

“Well, what about DNA? If they had DNA from my father linking him to the girls . . .” Nina shrugged.

“There was no DNA testing available back in 1989,” Mitch reminded her. “And even if there had been, there’s a strong possibility that, since your father admitted having had affairs with each of the victims, his DNA would most likely have been present.”

“Did the cops assume that the girls had been raped because there were signs of a struggle?” Regan thought out loud. “Or because Dr. Madden admitted having had sex with them on the nights they were killed?”

“Why didn’t they connect him sooner?” Mitch wondered. “Why wasn’t he linked to the first girl right away?”

“All of the girls lived alone, and while all four had alluded to friends or siblings about a hot romance, none of them told anyone who he was.” Nina appeared embarrassed. “He must have told them all that they couldn’t tell anyone. I’m sure he convinced them they had to keep the relationship quiet, or he’d lose his job.”

“Then how was he linked to the last vic?” Mitch asked.

“Fingerprints on a glass found in the kitchen,” Nina replied. “And a book he’d left in her bedroom. They matched up the prints, and when they started talking to him, he admitted they’d been having an affair. Later, a neighbor of the second victim identified him as being the man she’d seen leaving the apartment building on several occasions.”