Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 04 - Chocolate Mousse Attack (6 page)

Fred
opened the door as soon as I stepped onto the porch. He’d seen me coming with his x-ray vision.

I handed him
Matthew Graham’s card. “Can you check this guy out? See if he has any wants, warrants or wives?”

He accepted the card and held the screen door open. It looked identical to the one he’d always had, but it no longer showed signs of Henry’s claws. “Did you magically heal this door?”

“Of course not. I had it replaced. Sometimes you say the strangest things.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes you do the strangest things.”

I went over to sit on his sofa. A cold can of Coke waited for me on a coaster on the coffee table and a steaming cup of coffee sat on the lamp table beside his recliner.

He took the pie to the kitchen and returned with slices for both of us. After handing a plate to me, he sat in his recliner and took a bite, chewed
thoughtfully and swallowed. “Very good. Thank you. Why do you want me to check out this person?”

“He’s been in the shop a couple of times and he seems to be interested in Paula.” He didn’t really need to know the long version.

Fred studied the card then tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Good idea. After what she went through with her psychotic ex, we need to do everything we can to protect her.”

“Now tell me what happened last night.”

“You saw what happened. Sophie came to my door, I woke her and walked her home.”

“I saw the outside part. I didn’t see what happened in your house. Did she do the crying and screaming thing again?”

He frowned, sipped his coffee and nodded. “Yes, she was quite upset. I’m not so sure moving back here was a wise decision on her part.”

“That’s kind of strange. She said she moved back because she had happy memories of living here, but as soon as she gets here, she starts having bad dreams.”

“Very strange.” Fred had another bite of pie and another sip of coffee.

I wait
ed, but when he forked another piece, I interrupted. “Well? So what do you make of that?”

He finished his bite before replying. Of course he couldn’t leave it halfway through the process. “There’s no way to be certain at this point, but I think on a subconscious level, she was driven to return here to find what happened to Carolyn.”

“So we’re going on the assumption that Carolyn was a real person and Sophie witnessed her murder, right?”

Fred set his empty plate on the lamp table and leaned back in his chair. “More than likely Sophie witnessed a real murder, and her nightmares won’t stop until we uncover the truth. Our first step is to figure out who was murdered.”

“What do you mean, who? A little girl named Carolyn. Surely with your hacking skills you can find out if someone named Carolyn lived in this house and died a violent death twenty years ago.”

He nodded. “I searched the records for the occupants of this house during the time Sophie and her parents lived across the street.”

“And?”

“Sophie’s right. The house was vacant.”

I scowled. “So maybe Carolyn lived in another house in the neighborhood and she and Sophie played in this house the way she said except, of course, that Carolyn wasn’t imaginary. Maybe some psycho killer came in one day and murdered Carolyn while Sophie watched.”

“I searched all records for five years prior to the time Sophie and her parents left town and found no record of the death of a young child in Pleasant Grove during that time.”

“Are you saying Carolyn really
was
imaginary? That Sophie made up the whole thing?”

“We have to consider that possibility.”

Somehow, that just didn’t feel right. I’d seen the terror on Sophie’s face. Of course, I’ve had a few nightmares myself. The terror at the time always seems very real. “Well,” I said, “if there’s no mystery to solve, then we can’t find any answers for Sophie so I guess she’ll continue to come over to your house in the middle of the night.”

“That’s a possibility.” He stood and picked up his plate. “I think I’ll have another piece of pie. Would you like one?”

“What? Oh, no, thanks.” I was trying to wrap my head around the possibility that Sophie’s distress was all imaginary. She seemed so down to earth, so well-adjusted except, of course, for running around in her sleep and ending up in a strange man’s closet. 

“Would you like to come with me tomorrow to question the man who owned this house during that time?”

“No, thanks.” Then I realized we were no longer on the subject of pie. “What?” He was disappearing into the kitchen. I ran after him.

“What did you just say?”

He meticulously sliced a piece of pie. “I asked if you’d like to participate in questioning the previous owner of this house, the one who owned it for five years and kept it unoccupied the entire time.” He moved the piece of pie to his plate.

“I thought…” What had I thought? He’d said
the house was vacant, but of course somebody had owned it. “Yes, I want to go. When? Who am I going to be? What shall I wear?”

“Tomorrow as soon as you get off work. Look professional. You’re going to be a mold expert.”

I was pretty sure he said
mold expert
, not
moldy expert
. But one never knows with Fred.

Chapter Six

I left Fred’s house and headed toward Paula’s to share the latest news.

Near the end of the block I saw Zach pedaling his red and yellow tricycle hard and fast down the sidewalk. My first thought was that Paula had come a long way over the last couple of years, letting Zach play outside by himself. But then I saw her standing on her front porch watching him. She still guarded her son and her heart closely. I was fighting an uphill battle with the Matthew thing.

As I crossed my yard, Henry appeared from nowhere and joined me. “You want to go see Zach, don’t you?” I asked him. He often pretended indifference toward the boy, but he pretends indifference toward everybody. I knew Henry and Zach were friends. They chased lightning bugs together and Zach dropped bits of everything he ate so Henry could eat them or ignore them as suited his fancy.

“I have to tell Paula about Fred discovering that the house really was vacant
.” He looked up at me, disbelief in his big blue eyes. “Okay, yes, I want to ask her about Matthew too. There’s no point in my pursuing this thing with him if she doesn’t even like him.”

Henry moved on through the grass, curling his tail in a gesture of smug pleasure that he’d for
ced me to admit the truth. Like I’d ever lie to my cat.

Zach reached the end of the block, made a U-turn and headed back. He saw me and waved. “Anlinny!”

“You’re going to get a ticket for going that fast, Hot Shot!” I called.

Paula turned her attention to me as I approached her house. She looked much more relaxed and happy than she had at the restaurant.
Being with her son always made her happy.

“Hi!” I greeted.

Zach rode toward me, slowing when he hit the grass but still pedaling as hard as he could. When he reached me, he jumped off the bike and grabbed me around the legs, looking up at me with a huge grin. “We’re gonna have macaroni and cheese! You can eat with us!”

“Henry too?”

He giggled. “Henry eats cat food.”

“Among other things.” I thought it best not to mention the occasional mouse my cat generously offered to share with me.

We went inside where Zach’s toys added splashes of bright color to the uniform beige of Paula’s living room. Two years after her ex-husband’s capture and conviction, she’d finally opened the blinds to allow the sunlight inside. That was a start.

“Read while I finish making dinner.” She handed him a large, colorful children’s book.

He sank to the floor, opened the book and began reciting a tale about zombies and mutant bunny rabbits. Nothing to do with ham and green eggs or Bambi or wild things. Nothing remotely related to the book he held in his hands. The boy had a vivid imagination. Henry sat beside him, switching his tail and pretending to be engrossed in the story. Maybe he wasn’t pretending.

I followed Paula into the kitchen. She filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil. I helped myself to a Coke from her refrigerator and sat down at her kitchen table.

“Nobody lived in Fred’s house when Sophie was five years old,” I said. “But Fred’s found the owner and we’re going to talk to him tomorrow.”

“The house really was vacant?” She took lettuce and tomatoes from the refrigerator and set them on a chopping board. “So Sophie’s telling the truth
? Her friend Carolyn was imaginary?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. But we’re going to find out. Fred believes she can’t get over her trauma until she learns the truth about what happened in that house.”

She took down three salad bowls. Apparently I was invited to dinner and I’d have to eat my greens. It would be worth it. Paula’s a good cook. “So she’s going to keep coming over to Fred’s house in the middle of the night until you figure it out or she remembers?”

“I guess so. Of course, we have no proof that Fred
objects to a beautiful woman visiting every night. Can I help you do something?”

She
took a large knife from a wooden block on the counter. “Thanks, but I’m not making anything chocolate and you have a way of, um, changing the outcome when you cook anything not chocolate.”

I couldn’t deny that. My desserts are all wonderful, but my biscuits are like rocks and my coffee is like swamp water. Not that I’ve ever tasted swamp water. I do make a great can of Coke, however.

“I’m having Fred check out Matthew Graham.”

Paula
slammed the knife into the tomato so hard I was afraid she’d chop through the board and the counter. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s probably not necessary. Just a precaution. He seems nice and has a really sweet smile and being a college professor, that’s a good thing—”

“Stop!” Another solid chop to the board, cutting through a piece of lettuce. She compressed her lips and shook her head. “Lindsay, if you weren’t my best friend, you would be my worst enemy. I have no desire to meet someone. I don’t need to meet someone. Zach doesn’t need strange men coming and going and confusing him.”

“No problem. I totally understand why you’ve been a little reluctant to get involved with somebody after what David did to you.
That’s why Fred’s checking out Matthew, to avoid the strange men.”

She shuddered, carefully laid the knife on the board and looked at me. “
I don’t think you do understand.”

I spread my hands in a
duh
gesture. “I’ve seen your scars. I know how terrified you were when you moved here. I was there when he tried to take Zach. I was there when he tried to kill me.”

She leaned back against the counter and drew in a deep breath. “I realize you know all that. You know he abused me, hurt me and tried to hurt Zach. You know he let me think I’d killed him and then tried to get me sent to prison so he could take Zach from me.”

“He’s a monster,” I agreed. “But he’s in prison. He’s gone. You have to move on with your life.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’m moving on just fine. I have a wonderful son, a great job, a best friend and
a neighbor who sneaks around in the dark and does weird things.”

I scowled. “If you’re talking about Fred, he does weird things in the daytime too.”

She laughed. “I was talking about Henry, but Fred’s a part of my life too. I’m happy. What more could any woman want?”

“How about somebody special? Somebody to be a father to Zach. Somebody to hold you at night and…” I waved my hands vaguely through the air. “You know. Maybe someday have a brother or sister for Zach.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I thought I loved David.” Her voice was suddenly so quiet I had to strain to hear her words. “I had nobody. My parents were dead. I was alone. David came along, and I thought I loved him. It took him a while to kill that love, to hurt me so badly that I stopped loving him. Every time he hit me, every time he said something mean, he destroyed a piece of my heart. Finally, there was nothing left to destroy. Lindsay, even if I wanted to, I simply don’t have the ability to love somebody again.”

I was silent for a long moment, kept my mouth shut and refrained from saying,
What a crock
. Oh, she believed it. I had no doubt of her sincerity. But I knew. She was still a kind, loving person in spite of what David Bennett had done to her.

I took her
proclamation as a challenge. If Matthew didn’t work out, I’d find somebody else to audition for the part of Paula’s Special Person. There were about two million people in the Kansas City metropolitan area. Surely somewhere I could find the right guy for Paula. If not, St. Louis isn’t that far away when you drive like I do.

Zach charged into the kitchen. “Mama, Henry’s hungry!”

She picked up her son and kissed the top of his sweaty head. “It won’t be long. Water’s boiling. Just give me a few more minutes.”

“Okay.” He wriggled, trying to get down.

She set him on the floor. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Can I have a Coke, Anlinny?”

“Of course.” I went to the cabinet, took down a red plastic glass and filled it with cranberry juice.

Zach took the glass but looked suspiciously at what I was drinking. “I want mine in a can like yours.”

Boy was growing up.

He needed a father.

I accepted the challenge.

*~*~*

Matthew came to Death by Chocolate the next day. Two o’clock, end of the lunch rush, an hour from closing time. As soon as he came in the front door, I went into the kitchen where Paula was loading the dishwasher.

“Can you take the front for a few minutes? I need to make a phone call.”

She closed the dishwasher door and looked at me through narrowed eyes. “He’s out there, isn’t he?”

“Who?”

“You know very well who I’m talking about.”

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. “Got to call Fred. We’re going to visit the previous owner of his house.” That was all true. I just didn’t mention that I needed to call Fred to get the report on
Matthew Graham.

I went through
the back door to the alley, giving her no choice but to go out front.

I called Fred. “Did you check on
Matthew Graham?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Squeaky clean. Doesn’t even have any speeding tickets.”

“You say that like it’s something commendable.”

He sighed. “Some people might think so. Anyway, this guy checks out down the line. Single, neve
r been married. Got his PhD in history from the University of Missouri in Columbia. Graduated with honors. He grew up around this area and his family still lives here.”

“Tell me about his family.”

“Mother and father still alive, still married. Matthew is the youngest of eight kids. Seven boys and one girl.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of family.”

“They’re members of Seventh Gate. They have large families.”

I cringed.
“That name sounds familiar. Isn’t that some kind of a nut job religious group?”

“
Yes, it is. Those people give new meaning to the word
strange
. It was started back in the sixties by a guy named Gary Drummond who got carried away with the hallucinogenic drugs. He was certain the Apocalypse was just around the corner so he bought some land which was dirt cheap in those days and set up his own patriarchal cult on a self-sustaining farm. They’re still out there, waiting for the end. It appears Matthew escaped when he was eighteen.”

“So I take it he’s not
close to his family?” I hoped not.

“
Once somebody leaves there, that person is dead to them, so I assume they’re not close. It’s difficult to find out a lot about them. They refuse to file any sort of documents with the government, no birth certificates, no tax returns, no social security numbers. They consider the government, technology and all of us to be satanic. The FBI, ATF and IRS have tried to take them down, but so far they haven’t made a lot of progress. They get away with a lot under the umbrella of religious freedom.”

“
But Matthew ran away. That speaks well for his sanity. His past doesn’t matter. Is he married? Dating anybody? Did you hack into his cell phone to see if he’s been sending nude pictures of himself to anybody?”

“Not married. His Facebook status does not indicate he’s in a relationship
and I didn’t find any e-mails or texts that indicate he’s romantically involved with anyone. As far as I can determine, he’s not sending nude pictures of himself to anybody through any form of modern technology. As to whether he’s taking them with an old-fashioned camera and handing them to someone in person, I have no idea.”

“Okay, thanks.
Gotta run. See you in a couple of hours to begin our other investigation.”

I disconnected the call and dashed through the kitchen into the restaurant. Matthew and Paula were the only people there. She was leaning over the counter toward him. He was leaning toward her. They both jerked upright and looked at me when I entered the room.

“Paula and I are having a cookout at my place tomorrow evening, Matthew. Would you like to come?”

Paula gasped.

Matthew blinked rapidly, looked from me to Paula, bit his lip then finally nodded. “Yes, thank you. I’d love to come. Can I bring something? I have a friend who grows fresh watermelons.”