Short Line to Death Read online

  This book is dedicated to my late father Thomas W. Flewharty who gave me a comprehensive list of mystery novels and authors to read when I was a teenager. I am still working on it.

  ©All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-54397-394-5

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-54397-395-2

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER 1

  The eerie, yellow glow of a sodium-vapor streetlamp lit the grim scene clearly. The dead man lay on his back in the alley next to an overflowing garbage dumpster. A tabloid newspaper folded open to the sports page lay on the ground beside him. Police Chief Billy West knelt beside the body with Officer John Smithfield looking over his shoulder. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s Bart Grickly.” Billy sighed and shook his head in disbelief. He was thankful it was a few minutes past 4:00 a.m. so no nosy citizens of Cross Keys, Pennsylvania, were likely to be passing by.

  “You have been trying to get him for years, Chief!” Officer Smithfield said. “Congrats!” He was the most recent and the youngest addition to the Cross Keys’ police department and had discovered the body on his routine survey of town. It was his first major crime scene.

  Billy glared at the rookie. “Jesus, Smithfield, ‘congrats’?”

  “Yeah, I mean he’s a big catch.”

  “Well, we didn’t exactly catch him,” he said as he stood up. “Looks to me like he was strangled.”

  “I mean he was scum, sir. It’s good to have him finally off the streets and...”

  “I think you are slandering pond scum, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said as the ambulance, a state police car and the county medical examiner drove up. “Why don’t you run over to the diner and get us some coffee. We’re going to be here for a while.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Smithfield...”

  “Sir?”

  “Good work on finding the body.”

  ***

  Leaning back in his favorite Adirondack chair, Tom Firemark surveyed the canopy of stars through binoculars. Occasionally, he woke early to survey the night sky and enjoy the predawn silence from his back deck. He had built his small timber-frame house himself, after a lengthy search for an appropriate site. The house sat on top of a hill with no neighbors within a mile, just a view of the village of Cross Keys and the Delaware River valley lying beyond a field of dairy cows.

  Tom heard the distant sound of sirens and noticed the flashing red lights of emergency vehicles in the middle of town, so he aimed his binoculars in their direction. Something really strange must have happened to create this kind of commotion in Cross Keys at this hour, he thought. He could see the police cars clearly, but they blocked the view past them. He resumed his stargazing until the sky began to lighten with the rising sun. After putting his binoculars away, he grabbed his keys and walked to his Jeep. He reflexively held the door wide and stood back so Freddy could jump in. He sighed and shook his head wondering at his own behavior. Freddy had been dead for two months and he still could not get used to the idea. He looked for the old dog to be just behind him, wagging his tail. He expected to see him in the dog nest he found impossible to throw away or sitting stock-still in front of the window on the lookout for squirrels. He sighed as he got into the car and drove to the Cross Keys Diner.

  The diner served plentiful plates of good food at inexpensive prices, making it extremely popular. There was always a wait to be seated on Sunday after church. It was strategically located at the intersection of the two main shopping streets of Cross Keys, High and Franklin. The only traffic light in the town was located at the intersection and was known as the Cross Keys Light. Not long ago, it had been the only traffic signal in the county.

  Built in the 1940s, the exterior of the diner was a dull silver metal facade with rounded corners, giving it a bullet-shaped appearance. It was topped with its name on a red, white and blue neon sign. The interior had been refurbished over the years but still retained a vintage feel. There were booths seating two or four and swiveling stools at the counter with all the seats covered in glossy red marbleized vinyl. Movable tables and chairs allowed the rest of the space to be configured to seat as many as needed. On the front edge of the counter, the diner’s famous Award Winning Homemade Pie of the Day was prominently displayed in all its glory on a pedestal under a protective, glass cake cover. Nobody knew for sure what award they had actually won, but the pies were generally considered to be excellent.

  “Good morning, Tom. You’re up early today.” May beamed brightly at him. She smoothed her red serving smock, which had her name tag surrounded by a half dozen turtle pins on the left-hand side, and tucked the sides of her abundant blond hair behind her ears. She poured his coffee and juice while he bought a newspaper from the machine in the foyer.

  Even though she saw Tom almost daily, she always felt a flutter or excitement when he walked into the diner. It was not simply his rugged good looks: he also radiated a calm strength and self-confidence that was especially attractive. He was over six feet tall with a lean, athletic build. He dressed casually, most often in jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up or a short-sleeve polo shirt. His thick dark brown hair had a touch of gray at the temple. Expression lines surrounded his mouth and brown eyes and deepened when his mischievous grin appeared.

  “Your usual?”

  “Yes, thank you, May,” said Tom as he sat at the counter.

  “Did you see all the commotion behind the Tickity?”

  Tom put down the paper, “No. I was awake and heard the sirens. Thought I would come in early to find out what happened. I figured Billy would show up. Do you know what happened?”

  May leaned over the counter closer to Tom. “Officer Smithfield said they found a body!” May sounded more excited than appalled. “Pete thinks it was a tourist that got mugged!” She nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen to indicate the cook.

  Tom chuckled. “Mugged? I doubt it. But if that’s true, feathers will fly at the next council meeting. So, you don’t know who it was?”

  “No, but I guess we’ll find out from the source,” May said as Chief Billy walked in. “Oh my, he looks hungry. I better hide the pie or none of my other customers will get any. It’s apple today, by the way.” May walked to the end of the counter.

  “Good idea. If he’s up at this hour, he’ll definitely be hungry. When we go fishing, he has two egg sandwiches and a box of donuts before we get out of the car.”

  “I heard that,” Billy said with a tired but pleasant expression on his face. “Hey, May, just ignore him. I’m a hardworking public serva
nt looking for a warm meal after a long night’s work. So can I get some service here?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just hold your horses,” she said grabbing a pot of coffee.

  “Good morning, Tom,” Billy said has he sat on the stool next to Tom. “I will take my usual with extra bacon, thank you, May.” She poured him a mug of coffee and put in his order.

  May adored Billy as he always brightened her day with some silly comment or exaggerated compliment. Although not as handsome as Tom, she considered Billy an attractive man. He was of average height and weight, with incredibly bright blue eyes and regular features set in a flawless peaches-and-cream complexion. His light brown hair was thinning, so he kept it cut short. Billy had returned to town from the Philadelphia police department when the police chief position had become available five years ago.

  Billy looked from one to the other and grinned. “I know you two are dying to know what happened last night.”

  “So? Don’t keep us in suspense. What happened on the mean streets of Cross Keys?” May asked.

  “Bart Grickly was discovered dead in the alley. The death was not from natural causes.”

  “My, my, that is news! Well, that will do a whole lot to clean up our little corner of the world,” May said. “My Ted says the Lyon police consider him a one-man crime wave. Or considered, I guess I should say.”

  Billy nodded. “That is correct. An extremely slippery one-man crime wave.”

  “Well, there aren’t a great many employment opportunities in this area, especially if you have a snake tattoo running from your neck to your shaved head. At least he was an entrepreneur. If not the most desirable one,” Tom observed.

  “Yeah. He was ambitious enough. Had a smorgasbord of illegal activities.” Billy shook his head as he put five teaspoons of sugar and a dollop of cream into his coffee.

  “How was he killed?” asked Tom.

  “Well, it’s too early for anything official, and you know I can’t give out information on an active investigation. But I will say the cause of death was obvious,” the chief said as he stirred his coffee. “This is going to be a hard one to solve, unless I find a witness. Bart had many enemies, I’m sure.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  “Billy is always lucky,” said May as she put their breakfast plates down. “But I hate to think what folks will say once they know there’s a killer on the loose.”

  “Especially in tourist season,” Tom added.

  “Do you want pie, Billy?”

  Billy looked insulted. “Of course. It’s apple, right?”

  May nodded.

  “A nice big piece with vanilla ice cream.”

  “Murder increases your appetite, huh? And I didn’t think it could get any bigger,” Tom quipped.

  CHAPTER 2

  Madeline Williams woke with a start to the sound of birds tweeting. She could not believe the racket. She had been living in Cross Keys for almost four months, and this was the first time she had heard so much bird noise. Of course, unseasonably warm weather had allowed her to sleep with the window cracked open for the first time. Apparently, the birds had woken up now that spring was undeniably beginning and wanted the entire world to be awake also. She was accustomed to the early-morning noises of Manhattan, including garbage trucks, car alarms, people yelling, alley cats howling and horns honking, but she was unprepared for loud chirping. Country living was definitely going to take some additional adjustments she had not anticipated.

  She lay in bed and marveled at the different bird songs. She smiled at the happy sound, but then she looked sadly at the empty space in the bed where her husband should be. Wildlife was not the only change in her life to concern her. She had lost her husband to a younger woman. John had cheated on her and left her. She had been completely unaware there was a problem, as everything in their lives seemed to be the same as it always had been. Maybe that had been the problem.

  Her marriage of thirteen years had started out as a wonderfully compatible and passionate relationship. They had shared a condo in Manhattan and enjoyed all the benefits of living in the city. They had decided early on that parenthood was not for them and had traveled and happily spent time alone together. They had been close in every way and enjoyed each other’s company. As a result of their closeness, she had let many of her other friendships dwindle. After John had revealed he was in love with some young woman he’d met in the gym, he moved out, leaving her deeply hurt and alone. She had no close family, and so after John left her, she’d discovered she had her career as head of the accounting department of a small investment-management firm and her work friends but little else.

  She could not figure out what had gone wrong, and John refused to discuss it. She was stunned into an emotionless state, living each day in a fog but trying desperately to appear as if nothing was wrong. She had no idea what to do, and so she did nothing, burying herself in work so there was no time to think about the situation.

  Then after three months, he had wanted to reconcile. Apparently, Crystal had found another younger and richer boyfriend and had no use for John any longer. She’d abruptly tossed him out of her small apartment. He’d shown up at home and expected Madeline to be happy he had returned, as if he had been on an extended business trip. She wasn’t. He told her how sorry he was and vowed he would never leave her again. The numbness seemed to drop from her, and she became angry. She knew this was an empty promise. Her answer was to file for divorce the next day. It had been difficult because she still loved him, but his betrayal and apparent belief she would take him back no matter how callously he’d behaved meant she could never take him back. That was six months ago. To her it had felt like a lifetime.

  During John’s absence, she’d received news of an unexpected bequest. A registered letter informed her she had inherited her great-aunt Inez’s house and its contents in Cross Keys, Pennsylvania, including her 1980 Cadillac Sedan DeVille. She had fond memories of spending a large part of many childhood summers in Cross Keys with her grandmother and great-aunt. She recalled playing with neighborhood kids, riding bikes all over town, going to the county fair, swimming in the Delaware River, horseback riding and eating homemade ice cream. And the house itself had been a great place to play, with seemingly endless hidden nooks and secrets. Inez had never married and had lived in the house most of her adult life, operating a beauty parlor on the first floor. Over the years, after her grandmother died, Madeline had lost touch with Aunt Inez. The yearly Christmas cards were their only contact, but even that had been sporadic on Madeline’s part. She was surprised and moved that her relative had thought to give her the house.

  It was a large Victorian structure built in the late 1800s, standing three stories high, with a sizable covered front porch ending with a gazebo on one side and a turret rising from the opposite corner. It needed some minor repairs but had been generally well maintained. It was painted a pale sherbet yellow with light blue-and-green gingerbread trim. The house was the largest in a quiet residential neighborhood of treelined sidewalks and neatly maintained houses and yards, just a short two blocks east of High Street.

  She loved the house and the historic town, which was sandwiched between the Delaware River and the last bit of the Pocono Mountains, at the very tip of the northeastern corner of Pennsylvania, an hour and half drive from Manhattan. Cross Keys had been founded in the middle of the 1700s, and it had grown steadily. In its prime, it had been the favorite summer residence of the more notorious and, therefore, less socially acceptable rich and famous people of the day from New York City.

  To keep things amicable until the divorce became final, she’d allowed John to live in the apartment while she moved temporarily to Cross Keys and commuted every day into Manhattan on the bus. The bus stop was within walking distance of the house. The two-hour commute each way was a big change from her ten-minute subway ride to the office, but it was only temporary. With any luck, once the apartment was on the market, they would sell it quickly, divide up their
assets and she could find a new place in the city and restart her life. At least that was the plan. But the plan or rather the lawyers seemed to be moving exceedingly slowly.

  Her soon-to-be ex-husband would call her and insist they get together to talk about the details of their divorce. They met in the city for lunch a few times. At first, she felt sad when they met, remembering all the good years they had spent together. But he’d changed, and it was almost as if she didn’t know him at all. He was clearly trying hard to look younger than his forty years. He had dyed his hair a lighter color, bought new clothes more suitable for a younger man, had an ear pierced and decorated his arms with several tattoos. He had always been tall, dark and handsome in her eyes. Now he looked pathetic. She had her attorney take over, so she would not have to see him again.

  She sighed heavily and rolled out of bed. Coffee and breakfast at the diner beckoned. She walked into the bathroom and stepped on the scale. “Ugh,” she said out loud as the number was not a good one. Her weight-loss regime was not going well. Since the separation, her diet of comfort food had added fifteen pounds to her short frame, and the long commute had not helped. There was no time for exercise, and by the time she got home, cooking a healthy meal wasn’t an option, so she ate takeout or microwave dinners.

  After showering, she glanced in the mirror. No one would ever describe her as beautiful, but her regular features and bright green eyes made her face attractive. She brushed her stylishly cut brown hair, put on mascara and got dressed.

  During the weekends, she always had a late breakfast at the diner. It was a luxury to indulge in a large breakfast and linger over coffee. She always liked to sit in a booth for two with a window looking out on Franklin Street and the library lawn.

  The public library, a tall white structure, was across from the diner and was surrounded by a large lawn which served as a park, with wooden benches and seasonal plants and decorations provided by the Society for the Preservation and Beautification of Cross Keys, or the Society of Pretentious Busybodies of Cross Keys as some people referred to them.