The Stone of Sadness (An Olivia Miller Mystery Book 3) (10 page)

“Yeah? You all went to high school together?” Olivia asked.

“We did,” Robin said. “Seems like a hundred years ago.” She lifted the wine glass to her lips.

The group of friends seemed to be in their late fifties, Olivia guessed. Close in age to Kenny Overman and Emily Bradford. Olivia didn’t want to put a damper on the conversation, but she had to ask.

“Did you know Kenny Overman in high school?”

Glenn, Robin, and Tom turned as one toward Olivia, their eyes wide.

Robin spoke, “Where’d you hear that name?”

Glenn snorted. “Everyone knew Kenny Overman.”

“One bad apple,” said Tom.

“When I first got here, John and I were going through some old newspapers that were up in his attic. Kenny Overman’s name came up in connection to a crime that happened here in Howland,” Olivia told them.

“Oh, boy,” Robin said. “Did it ever.”

“Police questioned Overman about a double murder that happened here in town in the early seventies,” Glenn said. “Did you read the accounts in the newspapers you found?”

Olivia nodded. “John told me the victims were distant cousins of ours.”

“The woman and her daughter went to the same church as my family. It was devastating. People in town were shocked, terrified for a while,” Robin said. “Our parents didn’t want us out late, had to know where we were going and who we were with.”

“When you’re a teenager,” Glenn said, “you never think anything bad is going to happen to you, but I have to admit those killings had us in a knot for a while.”

“So what did you think about Overman?” Olivia asked. “You knew him?”

“We never hung around with him,” Tom said. “He was in my gym class one year. He was always in trouble.”

“We all steered clear of him,” Glenn said.

“Do you think he committed the crime?” Olivia asked.

“Could have,” Glenn said. “There are some people you’d say ‘oh, no, he couldn’t have done such a thing.’ But with Kenny, I wouldn’t be able to say that.”

“I never believed he did it,” Robin said. “He was in my homeroom junior year. Yeah, he was always in trouble, had attitude, never did homework, smoked, drank, probably did drugs. But there was something about him. I couldn’t see him as a killer.”

“Why, not?” Olivia questioned.

Robin looked thoughtful. “I don’t know if I can explain it. He seemed kind of like a lost lamb. Like he needed to put on that tough guy veneer to keep people away.”

“You just felt sorry for him, Robin,” Tom said. “That old man of his was always beating on him.”

“He’d come to school with bruises, black eyes,” Robin said. “He’d just say he fell or got in a fight with kids from the next town over. I didn’t believe that. He never claimed his father did it. But we all knew. Our parents talked.”

“Kenny was a mean one,” Tom said. “He could’ve murdered the mom and child. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”

“Yeah,” Glenn added. “I think he did it. But the cops didn’t have any evidence. So what can you do?”

“I don’t think he was mean,” Robin said thoughtfully. “Angry, yes. But not mean.”

“Did you ever notice a violent streak? He got into fights?” Olivia questioned.

The group thought for a moment. “Never heard of any fights with kids from our school. Not sure,” Glenn said. The other two shrugged.

“Is he living anywhere around here?” Olivia asked, even though she knew he wasn’t.

“No, long gone,” Glenn told her. “And, good riddance.”

“People in town all thought he did it,” Robin said. “A person can’t stay in a place where everyone thinks you’re guilty.”

“I’d high-tail it out of town if everybody thought I was a killer,” Tom said. “Start over somewhere else.”

“Where’d he go?” Olivia asked.

“Never heard,” Glenn said.

“Are any of his relatives in town?” Olivia asked.

“Not that I know of,” Glenn said. “It was just him and the nasty father.”

“Is his father dead?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said. “He and Kenny lived in a beat up ranch house they rented. After Kenny took off, the old man lived in an old shack in the woods for a long time until the town tore it down. I don’t know what happened to the rotten old goat.”

“What was the father like?” Olivia questioned.

“He was a mean piece of work,” Glenn said. “Abusive, a drunk, a drug addict. Never worked. Was on welfare. The place was like a crap hole, if you’ll excuse my language.”

“What about friends? Did Kenny hang out with anybody? Did he have any friends?”

“No. He dated a girl in town for a while. But he was a loner,” Tom said. “Had a chip on his shoulder. Didn’t want any friends. Or maybe couldn’t keep a friend. He hung out sometimes with the kids who congregated at the smoking area in the school parking lot.”

“Sounds pretty sad,” Olivia sighed

“He did have a friend,” Robin said. “Well, maybe not a real friend. But he and James Martin were friendly.”

The name rang a bell for Olivia. She thought for moment and then it came to her. “James Martin. I heard that name. He passed away?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Robin said. “He was in a swimming accident.”

“I understand James came from a wealthy family. How’d he and Kenny match up?” Olivia asked.

“Not sure. I think they made friends in kindergarten. James was a sweetie. I think he was good to Kenny because they were friends as little kids,” Robin said. “Too bad James isn’t around. He’d probably be able to tell you about Kenny better than most can. Give another side of him.” Robin sipped her wine. “You know, Olivia, my friend…her brother, Dan Waters, was one of the guys who found the bodies in the state park.”

Olivia’s eyes went wide. “Really? Did your friend ever tell you much about what her brother had to say?”

“No. He never talked about it much. He’s coming to Howland to visit his sister soon. Would you like me to see if he’d talk to you?”

“Yes, please,” Olivia said. “You think he would?”

“He might,” Robin said. “He’s been interviewed now and then when reporters bring the case up. Let’s exchange cell phone numbers and I’ll let you know.”

Olivia’s temples were pulsing and she rubbed at them, hoping a full blown headache wasn’t in the works.

“How about another?” Glenn pointed at Olivia’s glass.

“Oh, no, thanks,” Olivia told him. “My friend should be here any minute.”

Right on cue, Jackie walked into the restaurant and glanced around trying to spot Olivia. Olivia waved.

“Here she is now. Nice talking with you all,” Olivia told the group.

“Take care. See you again sometime,” Glenn told her.

“Have a nice visit here, Olivia,” Robin said. “Maybe I’ll see you in the park with the dog. And I’ll let you know if Dan Waters will meet you.”

Tom tipped his glass to her as she slipped off the stool and headed to greet Jackie. The hostess seated them at a booth near the window.

“Make some new friends?” Jackie asked, opening the menu.

“Yeah,” Olivia smiled. “They’re real nice.” Olivia rubbed her temples.

“You getting another headache?” Jackie eyed Olivia over the top of her menu.

“Maybe,” Olivia said.

Jackie put the menu down and gave Olivia a serious look.

“What?” Olivia asked.

“You’ve been getting a lot of them?”

Olivia shrugged. “I guess so.”

Jackie said. “Have you always had trouble with headaches?”

“Not always. The past few months though.”

“Why do you think?”

Olivia drank a gulp of water from her glass then held the glass next to her temple. “I don’t know.”

“Have you been under a lot of stress?”

Olivia laughed out loud but it had no mirth in it.

“Boyfriend trouble?” Jackie asked.

“No. Not that,” Olivia’s voice was small.

“You want to talk about it?”

Olivia sighed. “I guess you don’t watch the news?”

Jackie looked puzzled.

“Last year my aunt Aggie was murdered. She was more than my aunt. She raised me since I was one. Everyone said she had a heart attack but I didn’t believe it. In the course of trying to figure out who murdered her, I killed a man. And, almost got killed myself. Twice.”

“Jesus.” Jackie stared at Olivia.

“Yeah,” Olivia said.

“So…did you figure it out? Did you find out who killed your aunt?” Jackie asked.

“I was on the right track, but I didn’t really figure it out,” Olivia said. “It was more like I got in the killers’ way. They got careless and greedy and that’s what did them in. It was a group of criminals. A father and son. Some guys that worked for them. A State Police detective.”

Jackie’s eyebrows went up. “A cop?”

Olivia nodded. “They were moving drugs, smuggling valuables. My aunt crossed their paths and ended up as collateral damage.”

“Are they all in custody?”

“The smaller players are. The cop is dead. The father shot his son and he died later in the hospital.”

“And, the father?” Jackie asked.

Olivia was sweating. She used her napkin to mop her upper lip. “I killed him,” she whispered.

Jackie reached across the table and held Olivia’s hand. Olivia dabbed at the tears that were escaping from her eyes.

“I killed him,” Olivia said. “He attacked me. It was self-defense. He’s the one who killed my aunt. I feel awful about the whole thing but I’m not sorry I did it.” She let out a long slow sigh. “Does that make any sense?”

“Of course, it does,” Jackie said.

“The son. He asked me out. I only went once. He was messed up. I know he only asked me out to get information from me. But when I think back on it, he seemed kind of desperate for someone to help him. He kept asking me to meet him. He said he needed to tell me something. I blew him off. I think about it, Jackie. If I had met him, would he be alive today? I should have tried to help him.”

“You said he was messed up,” Jackie said. “It would be natural to want to avoid him.”

“They were all terrible, evil people,” Olivia said. “But he needed someone to be kind to him.”

“Things look different in retrospect. You did what felt right at the time.”

“I still think I should have listened to what he had to tell me.”

“You can’t second guess. It probably wouldn’t have changed anything. Was he involved in your aunt’s death?”

Olivia nodded. “I can’t forgive him for that.” She took a long sip of water. “But he tried to help me in the end. He tried to help me escape from his father.”

“Is that how you survived?”

“No. The father shot him and then attacked me.” She paused and swallowed hard. “And then I slit his throat.” Olivia shifted her gaze out the window. “I’m glad they’re dead and they can’t ever hurt anyone else. But it won’t bring Aggie back to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackie said.

Olivia nodded. “It’s all a long story. I’ll tell you more of the details some time.”

“When did you say this happened?”

“My aunt was killed a year ago May. The whole mess was resolved by August.”

“The facts and details were resolved maybe, but not your feelings about it,” Jackie said.

Olivia let out a long breath. “I was doing really well. I started law school last fall, worked really hard. But over the past few months I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Getting headaches. Feeling moments of terror. Flashes of what happened pop into my mind.”

“When those things
aren’t
happening, do you feel yourself?” Jackie asked.

“Mostly.”

“Sometime feel down? Get short-tempered?”

“Sometimes.”

“Tired?”

“I’m exhausted.”

Jackie leaned forward. “Did you get counseling, Olivia?”

“I went for a while, but stopped going.”

“Why?” Jackie asked.

“It didn’t seem like I needed it. I didn’t like yapping about it with a stranger. I didn’t want to go over it and over it…I wanted to be done with it all. But I guess I’m not.” Olivia sipped her water. “You have your PhD in counseling, Jackie. What’s wrong with me?”

“It’s like post-traumatic stress,” Jackie said.

Olivia made a face.

“It’s anxiety. It affects your ability to cope. At times you might feel numb, distracted. You might have distressing flashes of memories of the event, avoiding people or places that evoke the memories, problems with concentration, problems with anger, trouble sleeping.”

“Yes, that’s me.” Olivia’s eyes filled with tears again. “I haven’t been home in a year. Brad and Joe, they…Brad’s my boyfriend and Joe is like my dad…they come down to Cambridge to visit me. At Christmas, we went to California. When I think of going back to my house in Ogunquit, I feel sick. I’ve been renting the house out for the past year. I haven’t told Brad or Joe the truth about why I never make it home. I just say I’m drowning in work.” Olivia lifted her eyes to Jackie. “Am I crazy?”

Jackie shook her head vigorously. “No, not at all. It’s a normal reaction to what you experienced. You should talk to someone.”

“I’m talking to you,” Olivia said.

“You should talk to someone who’s practicing.”

Olivia took a deep breath. “What good would it do?”

“Well, for one thing, you can work on identifying the thoughts and sensations that upset you or make you afraid. Then practice replacing those thoughts with something less distressing.” Jackie paused. “And talk about your grief.”

“I don’t know.”

Grief. Wrapping itself around her heart when she least expected it. Choking her. Hot tears behind her eyes.

“Olivia, do you think it’s a good idea looking into your cousins’ murders right now?”

“Why, not?” Olivia asked.

“Come on. You know why. It’s too close to what you’ve recently been through.”

Olivia looked away from Jackie. The bartender caught her eye and waved his hand to call her over. “The bartender is waving to me.”

Jackie turned her head. “What’s he want?”

“I’ll go find out. Be right back.”

“Say ‘no’ if he asks you out,” Jackie said.

Olivia chuckled. “I think I’m a bit young for him.”

Glenn, Robin, and Tom had moved away from the bar and were sitting at a table near the far wall with some other friends. Olivia approached the bar.

“What’s up?” Olivia asked.

“I heard you talking about Kenny Overman. You seemed interested in knowing what happened to his father. I know he’s in a nursing home over in Worcester.”