The Reunion (30 page)

“Tami, being Tami, told her to cram her Bible up her ass. More words were exchanged and the decibel level rose until Mrs. Hardy, the home ec teacher, came over and asked what was going on. Divine, in that sanctimonious voice, told her. Mrs. Hardy escorted Tami to the restroom and made her put her clothes back on.”

“Tami Robinson was always a handful,” Ray muttered. “Pretty as a picture, but a handful. Told her daddy that, too. Guess he didn’t know how to deal with a teenage girl by himself after his wife’s death.”

“Tami didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone other than herself,” Zach told him. “As long as she was the center of attention, she was happy.”

“Go on, Suzanne,” Meghan prompted. “What happened? As I recall, graduation went smoothly.”

“We were lining up for the processional when Tami returned. She was furious at having been marched away in front of the entire senior class. I remember her grabbing Divine’s arm and saying, ‘I’ll get you for this. You want to know about eternal fire? Well, get ready, because I’m about to make your life a living hell.’ Tami was still seething that night.

“The four of us copped a bottle of Jack from somewhere along with some weed, and drove out to Samson’s Lake. We’d gone through about two-thirds of it when Tami suddenly laughed. ‘I’ve got it. I know how to get even with that Bible-toting bitch.’ Her idea was to have Eddie and Dave write Divine’s name on every men’s room wall in the city. You know, for a good time call Divine at, and then give her phone number.

“We were pretty wasted and thought it was funny. So, we piled into the car and stopped at every convenience store, truck stop, and gas station we saw. If it was public, we hit it. We finally ran out of booze and pot and went home. The next day Tami called. She wanted to expand on the idea.”

“Expand? How?” Zach asked.

“Tami’s father not only owned the local newspaper, but a printing company as well. She stole the key, and the four of us sneaked in on Sunday. All we needed was a copier and twenty minutes. We popped off a hundred copies of a poster that said much the same thing as the graffiti. We couldn’t work during the day, of course, but at night, we stapled those posters to trees and telephone poles, and slapped them on car windshields. Tami finally lost interest when it came time to leave for college. Shopping replaced revenge.”

“I remember Mr. Prescott came in one day with one of the flyers in his hand, screaming it was the work of the Devil and how I should arrest him,” Ray said.

“Arrest who? The Devil?” Meghan wasn’t sure.

“I guess so. Old man Prescott didn’t often make sense. At any rate, he claimed calls were coming in to his house day and night. About a week later, he stormed in again. Divine was walking home from prayer meeting the night before, and saw Tami on Columbus Avenue with a bunch of papers in one hand and a stapler in the other. I talked to Tami. Naturally, she denied everything.”

“Naturally,” Zach said.

“And I couldn’t prove it was her. The whole business stopped a couple of days later. I thought that was the end of it.”

“I didn’t know you’d talked to Tami,” Suzanne replied. “That might explain why Tami lost interest, although Tami Robinson wasn’t afraid of, or intimidated by anyone, not even the police.”

She sipped more water. The sudden switch from revenge to college had been a relief. Suzanne had tired of harassing Divine. Soon they’d all gone their separate ways. Tami had chosen Indiana University where both fun and men were in large supply. She hadn’t been sorry to see the so-called friendship cool.

“I don’t understand how Glory fits into the picture,” Zach said. “She was much younger than Divine, wasn’t she?”

“By five or six years, I think,” Meghan told him. “I remember her as kind of a gawky kid with a perpetually earnest expression on her face. Ray, what did Glory tell you?”

“Not much. When I questioned her last night, she rambled, sang hymns, quoted the Bible, and declared everyone she killed deserved to die because they were responsible for Divine’s suicide.”

“How?” Zach asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe the graffiti and posters depressed her. Maybe old man Prescott convinced her everything was her fault, and she was going to hell. I’ll need to read the diary when Tom finds it,” Ray answered. “If he doesn’t find it this morning, I’ll have to issue a search warrant for the house.”

“You should have ordered it anyway. Doesn’t sound like stability was a family trait,” Suzanne said in a crisp voice.

Zach stared with a disapproving expression. “No, but it was still a mean thing to do. Didn’t your conscience nudge you just a little when you heard about Divine’s death?”

Hell yes, her conscience had done more than just nudge. It
had
been mean and she was sorry she’d been involved, but over the years the incident had faded. Suzanne defended herself when three pairs of eyes turned her way.

“Hey! Gimme a break. We were eighteen. None of us ever thought beyond the moment. Did I wonder if Divine
killed
herself because of that silly prank?” She paused and shrugged wincing again. “The thought crossed my mind, but life goes on, and I forgot about it. Last night, Glory relished telling everyone who’d listen all about Tami and Eddie’s deaths. I think she wanted to scare Dave and me—maybe even put us on notice. Should have realized then the crazy bitch knew more than she let on.”

“So, five people died, and two others came under attack, because you were eighteen and stupid,” Meghan spoke in a clipped tone.

“Don’t get prissy on me. I didn’t have to tell you a damned thing, so get off my back. That’s all I’m saying. Go lock that nutcase up in a padded cell where she belongs, and tell Tom Ecklund and the Grandview Inn to get good lawyers. They’re both going to need one.” She rubbed her aching forehead. Maybe a pain pill would relieve the pounding. Besides, she was tired of defending herself over something that happened so long ago. She wasn’t ready yet to acknowledge guilt. “Interview’s over. I’m tired, and my head is splitting. I’d appreciate it if you’d all leave.”

Her three visitors rose and filed out of the room without another word—no goodbyes or hope you feel better on their lips. The door closed with a swish.
The hell with them.
She stared out the window through a veil of tears.

Meghan was right. She’d been so stupid. They all had.
Stupid and thoughtless.
No amount of justification could erase the consequences of their actions that summer. Now, alone, she allowed the guilt to surface. Five people had died not knowing why, and she bore part of the responsibility for the tragedy. The tears overflowed and coursed down her cheeks.

“Oh, God, Divine, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Suzanne buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Chapter Eighteen

Zach and Meghan followed the sheriff to the hospital waiting room and claimed space on the vinyl sofa.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the sheriff asked, pausing in front of the vending machine.

Meghan shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Me neither.”

He pumped change into the coin slot, made his selection, and then sat in a chair. The lines etched on his face had deepened over the past few hours, and Meghan could almost feel his weariness.

“I still can’t believe Glory Ecklund killed everyone. I can’t wait to get a gander at that diary,” Ray muttered. He rose, wandered over to the window, and squinting in the bright sunlight, tilted a soda can to his mouth.

Suzanne was right about one thing—Ray should have a team searching Tom and Glory’s house right now.
The diary was evidence regardless of what it contained.
A lifetime of friendship can’t be in the equation.

“But how did she pull it off? Has she said anything coherent?” Meghan wondered. “I mean, trips to California and Texas take time. Didn’t Tom question his wife’s whereabouts?”

“She was more lucid this morning and talked willingly with a lawyer present. Tom is the regional manager of an insurance company. Once a month he travels to the home office in Chicago for meetings. He leaves Tuesday afternoon and returns Thursday night. Tami, Eddie, and Clara were killed on Wednesdays,” the sheriff informed them. “She told us everything with the certainty we’d understand why she had to do it.”

“And therefore, it was perfectly all right,” Meghan concluded.

“So, Glory flies to Los Angeles and Dallas, rents a car, puts the phone at home on call forwarding to her cell in case Tom checks in, and then hops a flight back before he knows she’s been gone,” Zach speculated.

“And because she’s a bit of a recluse and the time frame is so short, neighbors don’t notice she’s out of town,” Meghan added.

“We’ll verify the flights.” The sheriff turned to face them. “Glory’s one of those people who blends into the woodwork. You notice her, and then forget her. I talked to the hotel manager this morning and found out she had often visited the premises with the excuse of checking on things concerning the reunion. She had ample time to scope out all the entrances, exits, garden pathways, and the corridors on every floor.

“By the time the reunion rolled around, she knew which rooms had been assigned to Dave and Suzanne. According to the reservations clerk, Glory requested a room across the hall from her best friend, Suzanne Crocker.”

“It made keeping tabs on Suzanne that much easier,” Zach said. “All she had to do was look out the peephole or crack the door.”

“She knew exactly where to hide and when to strike,” Ray agreed.

“And the hotel security guards?” Zach asked.

“When Tom was out of town and she wasn’t busy killing classmates, Glory cased the parking lot and timed the guards’ rounds. They’re creatures of habit, never varied their routine.”

“And all because the hotel, in order to save money, didn’t have jack for security cameras,” Meghan asserted in a bitter voice. She was still angry about that. If cameras had been present, in the hallways and the outside areas, the victims might still be alive to tell the tale.

“I doubt if Glory even thought about cameras,” Zach said. “She isn’t exactly up on the latest technology. A cell phone is about as hi-tech as she goes.”

“And a stun gun,” Meghan reminded him.

Ray drank from the can again. “Lawyers are scrambling as we speak. I’m sure Suzanne, Eric Peterson, Dave Coryell’s relatives, and God knows how many others will file lawsuits against the hotel.”

“You know, I never thought of this as a psychological murder. It wasn’t until I suggested the link with Tami and Eddie before that particular light bulb went off,” Meghan mused.

“If Glory had thought it out, she’d have never used the reunion to kill Dave and Suzanne,” Zach commented.

“But she had to kill when Tom was out of town, and his meetings were in Chicago where Dave and Suzanne lived,” Meghan responded.

“That’s true, although the chances of them crossing paths were slim,” he agreed.

Ray shook his head. “Glory was crazy, clever, and sloppy all at the same time. We’ve spent most of the morning checking credit cards and ATM withdrawals. She left a mammoth paper trail, but like most killers, probably figured no one would suspect her.”

“If she thought about it at all,” Meghan said. “She was on a mission.”

“You’re probably right,” Ray replied. “I got the California and Texas files this morning. The police in Malibu found a set of kitchen knives in a trash can down the street from Tami’s home. The chef’s knife was missing. A clerk at a local grocery store remembers a woman buying several bouquets.”

“All caught on security cameras, too, I’ll bet,” Meghan said.

Ray nodded. “The police checked those out first thing when they saw all the flowers. In Texas, a red pick-up was stolen from outside a bar in Mesquite, twenty miles from Harrison. It was later found a block from where it was stolen with massive front end damage. Also had blood and fabric caught in the grill. They matched Eddie’s.

“Both the knife and truck contained a set of unidentified fingerprints. I’m sure they’ll match Glory’s, and I’m certain the Muncie police found the same in Clara Sylvester’s room.”

Zach’s eyebrows rose. “She didn’t wear gloves for any of this?”

“Apparently not.”

“God, she wasn’t even trying cover her tracks or be clever,” Meghan murmured.

Zach shrugged. “She wasn’t into clever, just revenge.”

The sheriff finished his soda and tossed the can into the trash. “When I talked to her at the station, Glory kept saying it was God’s will they should die, an eye for an eye.”

“I guess the gospel according to Daddy Prescott bore fruit,” Meghan replied, a trace of bitterness remaining.

“I still say she could’ve nailed Dave and Suzanne in Chicago. Accompany your husband to Chicago on the excuse of visiting the museums or something. Neither one of them would be hard to find. They both led high profile lives,” Zach insisted.

“Too high a profile. Getting close would have been tough. Someone might remember her. Besides, Eileen told me Dave and Suzanne were among the first to confirm they’d be attending the reunion,” the sheriff said heading for the door.

“She didn’t need to go after them. They were coming to her, and on her turf,” Meghan murmured. “What happens now?”

“She won’t do jail time. A mental institution for the rest of her life is more likely.”

Tom walked into the waiting room, his expression shifting from anger to sorrow and back again. A Grandview deputy stood in the doorway, a frown on his face.

“Meghan, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. She was too desperate and exhausted to put much force behind the blows, although at the time it hurt like hell. I still feel like I’ve had a close encounter with a battering ram.”

His chin quivered, and his eyes glazed with a haunted look. “She drugged my drink in the bar. I always have a small whiskey in the evenings. Glory’s been taking Valium for months. Whiskey for me, Valium for her. It helped ward off her nightmares. I suspect she concealed one or two in her purse, and spiked my drink. I never expected it.”