The Stone of Sadness (An Olivia Miller Mystery Book 3) Page 4

  “That would be great if she would talk with me,” Olivia said.

  “I’ll bring it up with Angela and see what she thinks.”

  “There was a newspaper story a few years back about unsolved cases in Massachusetts,” Olivia said. “They profiled the case on Mary and Kimmy. The article indicated that the police knew who killed them but there wasn’t enough evidence for a conviction.”

  “Hmm…not enough evidence or botched evidence?”

  “What do you mean?” Olivia asked.

  “There was semen at the scene. Mary had skin under her fingernails. She fought back. Her hands and wrists had cuts on them. She must have had blood from the killer on her. With DNA testing now, how can they not figure it out? Especially, if they have a suspect in mind?”

  “So you think the evidence was lost or mishandled?”

  “It sounds like it to me. But what do I know?” Lydia said. “Things get lost. Evidence gets contaminated.” She paused. “Sometimes, intentionally.”

  Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Intentionally? Why?”

  “Well…there was some talk back then. Some talk about the priest at the church. It was probably idle gossip. That he was interested in Mary. That perhaps he made advances and she rebuffed him.”

  “Your husband mentioned the priest. So what? People think he might have killed her?”

  “It was scuttlebutt. Father Anthony was a handsome man, young, friendly, energetic. The women in the parish were gaga over him. They loved to talk. There was gossip.”

  “You think there was some substance to it?”

  “I don’t know.” She put her mug down and sighed. “Maybe.”

  “Why?” Olivia asked.

  “Mary and I, as I said, we both taught Sunday School. Sometimes I would catch Father Anthony looking at Mary. She would be arranging her materials in the classroom and he would always come by and chat with her. Another time I arrived to the church hall to help set up for a funeral meal. I heard loud noises coming from the kitchen. An argument. Angry voices. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Of course, I didn’t want to go in there with that going on, so I started setting up chairs and tables at the far end of the hall, banging things around…making as much noise as I could so whoever was arguing in the kitchen would know that I was out there. All of a sudden, Father Anthony stormed out of the kitchen and left the building. He didn’t acknowledge me at all. I was thinking whether I should go into the kitchen to see who was still in there but then two other women came into the hall from outside to help out. They went right into the kitchen and started bustling about. I walked in to help get the meal started, and it was Mary who was in there. We made eye contact. She looked flustered, upset. I think she knew that I had heard the argument going on but she said nothing. She turned to the sink and started washing out serving platters. I never mentioned anything to her. We acted like nothing had happened.”

  “Do you think they were having an affair?”

  “No, I don’t. What I knew of Mary, that wasn’t something she would have done. But, Anthony? Maybe it was something he was interested in. Maybe he didn’t like being refused.”

  “Is Father Anthony still at the church?”

  “No, he isn’t. He was transferred to another church.” She paused for effect. “About a month after the murders.”

  Olivia leaned forward. “Transferred? Was that in the works prior to the killings?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Nor to any of my friends’ knowledge either.”

  “That seems very suspicious. Where did he get transferred to?”

  “Somewhere in California,” Lydia said.

  “California? That’s about as far away from here as you can go without leaving the country.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you think Father Anthony did it, Lydia? Do you think he killed them?”

  Lydia moved her hand in the air. “Oh I don’t know. It must have been coincidence that he left our church. Wouldn’t it be incredibly obvious to the police if he transferred without reason? He must have been called to a church that needed him. Or it was planned ahead of the murders but wasn’t discussed with the congregation. The police must have looked into it.” They sat in silence for several seconds. “Don’t you think?”

  “It would be absurd if they didn’t look into it,” Olivia said. “Of course…times were different back then.”

  Lydia nodded her head. “That crossed my mind as well. Don’t make waves. Don’t make people lose faith. Keep it quiet. Transfer him.”

  They exchanged a long look.

  “I’m not saying he did it, Olivia. I’m just telling you what happened.”

  “I understand.”

  “It could have been Kenny for all we know,” Lydia said. “Not enough evidence, so what are they going to do? The person gets off. Leaves the area. That’s the end of that.”

  “Doesn’t seem right does it?” Olivia said.

  “Not at all,” Lydia said firmly.

  Chapter 7

  Olivia was returning from running errands and saw Jackie’s red truck parked in the driveway of John’s Colonial. Olivia walked around to the back of the house to the sunroom. Jackie was hammering alongside one of her workers when she saw Olivia approaching. She grabbed her water bottle and stepped outside to meet her. They sat down on the deck.

  “I talked to my parents last night about that murder case,” Jackie told Olivia. “My sister and I had dinner with them.”

  “What did they have to say?” Olivia asked. “Did your dad remember it?”

  “He sure did. He said it was a shocking event that had the whole town talking. People who never locked their doors, started locking up. People didn’t want their kids walking around alone. It just changed the whole tone of things. He said people seemed more distrustful of each other. He said he never felt like things went back to the way they were before the murders.”

  “I can imagine,” Olivia said.

  “Dad said there were lots of rumors flying around about who may have done it. There was talk of a local kid involved and a guy who was living in the woods was suspected.”

  “So what was the consensus? Did townspeople have any strong opinions one way or the other?”

  “Not really. It all depended on who you talked to.”

  Olivia nodded.

  “Dad said that a guy who had been living in the woods was suspected because he had kidnapped a couple of local women at knifepoint about a month before the murders. Dad was sure he read about it in the papers back then. He suggested you go back to the library to look it up if you’re interested.”

  “I’ll probably go back to the library a couple of more times. I’ll look it up.”

  “My sister brought up something that I never knew.”

  Olivia looked at Jackie with interest.

  “My sister Lynn has a friend who is a psychic or a medium or an intuit, whatever you want to call her.”

  Olivia’s face took on a look of disbelief.

  “I know, I know. It sounds crazy. But this woman has worked on unsolved cases all over the country. The police actually call her in. She lives here in town. The Howland police called on her a few years back to look into these two murders.”

  Olivia sat up straight eager to hear more. “Really? She works with the police? She worked on this case?”

  “Lynn said you should go talk to her. The woman’s name is Hannah. She might be able to tell you some things. Lynn gave me her name and email address.” Jackie handed Olivia a piece of paper with the information written on it.

  “I’ve read about psychics assisting the police, but I never really believed it could help,” Olivia said. “Sort of seems like nonsense.”

  “Yeah,” Jackie said. “I’m not sure what I think about it. I went to this woman a couple of years ago for a reading after my sister convinced me. It was impressive what she said about me. But I’m skeptical. I never knew she worked with the police.”

  “Guess it couldn’t hurt to talk to
her,” Olivia considered.

  “Sure, send her an email. My sister said to mention her name as this psychic is booked months in advance.”

  “Thanks, Jackie. I’ll let you know what comes of it.” Lily sat down next to Olivia and pushed her nose at Olivia’s hand trying to encourage some patting. “In my research the other day, I found out that Mary’s son, Michael, is living about sixty miles from here.”

  “Is he?” Jackie asked.

  “I’d like to talk to him.”

  “He was just a little boy when his mom and sister were murdered. I doubt he’d be able to tell you much.”

  “I know. But maybe the police have kept in touch with him. He must know some details about why no one was arrested.”

  “Are you going to try to contact him?” Jackie asked.

  “I can’t find a phone number or email address for him. But I did find his physical address.” Olivia stopped patting Lily but the dog nudged her hand and Olivia returned to scratching. “What if I just drive up there? Ring the bell and introduce myself?”

  “Hmmm. I don’t know. That might be too much of a surprise,” Jackie said.

  “I’d just really like to talk to him.”

  “It might not be a good idea.”

  “There’s no other way to get in touch.” Olivia sighed. “I might just take the chance.”

  Jackie looked at her. “Can you brace yourself for disappointment? Because that might be all you get out of it.”

  “I guess I’ll have to.”

  ***

  Later that night, Olivia sent an email to the psychic introducing herself, explaining what she was researching, and asking if she might be able to arrange a meeting sometime soon.

  Olivia stayed up until well past one in the morning debating with herself about whether or not to make the drive to call on Michael Monahan in person. She sat curled on the sofa with just one lamp on the side table turned on. A scented jar candle was in the center of the coffee table and the flame flickered and caused long shadows to dance on the walls. Olivia poked at the edge of the notebook where she had jotted notes and facts about the murders. The notebook opened to the page listing the information about Mary Monahan’s husband and son. Olivia imagined driving to Michael Monahan’s house, introducing herself, and being invited in to hear how he had coped with the loss of his mother and sister. She rested back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. No matter how many ways she tried to convince herself that arriving unannounced at Monahan’s front door would work out well, she couldn’t shake the reality that he would find her visit intrusive. Olivia decided to talk it over with Brad the next day. She pushed herself up from the sofa and leaned forward to blow out the candle. She turned off the lamp, called to Lily, and the two climbed the stairs and went to bed.

  Chapter 8

  Emily Bradford, the girl who had dated the nineteen year old murder suspect, contacted Olivia and they arranged to meet at a coffee shop in Brookline center. From her seat near the window, Olivia watched a sleek silver Mercedes pull into the lot and park. An attractive, slender woman with honey blonde hair cut into a long bob emerged from the driver side. She was wearing a tight, bright blue skirt, heels, and a fitted navy blazer. She looked trim and strong. Olivia calculated she must be in her late fifties.

  The woman strode to the door of the coffee shop with confidence and purpose, entered, and spotted Olivia right away. She crossed the space to Olivia’s table and extended her hand as she took a seat on the opposite side of the booth.

  “Emily Bradford.”

  “Thanks for getting in touch with me,” Olivia said as she shook hands with the woman.

  “I was surprised as hell when my sister called to tell me someone wanted to speak with me about the murders,” Emily said. Her voice carried a tone of authority. “No one has asked me anything about it since the year it all happened.”

  “I just wanted to get some of your impressions from the time. I understand you were dating one of the original suspects?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes. Kenny. Kenny Overman. We dated off and on through high school and during my first year of college. I thought he was so cool, smoking, drinking…even in the ninth grade.” She leaned forward, a slight smile on her face. “He seemed so dangerous and outlandish. Just did whatever he wanted. So different from my straight-laced, rule-based, Catholic parents.” She chuckled. “That was part of the appeal. That and how good-looking he was.” She sipped her coffee. “He was sweet at heart…when he wasn’t drinking.”

  “What about the priest at St. Catherine’s? Father Anthony?” Olivia asked.

  Emily’s eyebrows went up. “What about him?”

  “Your family attended the church. Did you know him at all?’

  “Sure. He led the youth group. Why do you ask about him?”

  “People mentioned his name…suggested I look him up…said he might have some information. I was hoping to get his take on what happened since he lived here in Howland at the time of the murders,” Olivia said. “Do you know where he might be located now? Which parish he’s assigned to?”

  “I don’t. No,” Emily said. Her face was blank. “I haven’t seen him for years. I don’t know what people think he could offer about the murders.”

  “What did you think of him?” Olivia asked.

  “He was good at organizing. Friendly. It was an active youth group. It was more of a young adult group, I guess. We were all between seventeen and twenty. We had a lot of fun.”

  “Did he seem overly friendly with the women?” Olivia asked.

  Emily shifted in her seat. “How do you mean?”

  “Some people have said that he enjoyed being around women.”

  “I hadn’t heard that.” Emily’s face took on a hard look. “I never noticed.”

  Olivia worried that she might have offended Emily and decided she better change her line of questioning. “Why do you think the police suspected Kenny? Was there evidence that tied him to the crime? Was he connected to the victims somehow?”

  “Kenny knew the husband more than the wife and daughter. He had done some work around their house. Some painting, raking, things like that. They suspected him because Kenny’s car was parked alongside a road about three miles from the crime scene. Mary and her daughter stopped at a hardware store to pick up some things on the day of the murders. The store wasn’t far from where Kenny’s car was parked. Kenny said the car broke down and he left it there. He said the police tried to get him to say that Mary picked him up to give him a lift.”

  “Did anyone see Kenny with Mary that day?”

  “Not that I know of. But the police didn’t give out information like that to the public.”

  “Why suspect Kenny just because his car was on the road?”

  “Kenny had an argument with Mary’s husband a month prior to the murders. Kenny was accused of taking a couple of expensive tools from the garage of Mary and Tom’s house. There was no way to prove who owned the things. There was animosity between the guys. Kenny told me he bought those tools himself, but who knows? Maybe he did steal them.”

  “Where did Kenny say he was at the time of the murders? Did he have an alibi?”

  “He went into Boston the day of the killings. He was planning to talk to an Army recruiter, but he told me he changed his mind when he got to the door of the recruiting office. He said he went over to Fenway Park and just hung around outside. He couldn’t afford a ticket to the game.”

  “Did you see Kenny that day? The day Mary and her daughter were killed?”

  “Yeah. He always called or dropped by every day, unless we were having a fight, which we ended up having that night. He came by…I don’t know, could have been like 10pm or so. He asked if I wanted to go for a ride on his motorcycle. You can imagine how my parents loved that. I didn’t want to go because I was feeling sick. I had gone to New York City for the day. I took the bus there so I had to get up really early. Kenny and I had bus tickets to go together but he backed out two days before. He said
he didn’t want to waste the day hanging around in some overpopulated city. He said he wanted to go talk to the Army recruiter, and that maybe he should join the military. I was furious at him for changing the plans especially since I already had the bus tickets. I decided to go myself…wanted a day alone…walk around, do some shopping. I was exhausted when I got home. I had a terrible headache. Kenny got so annoyed with me because I wouldn’t go out with him that night…he thought I was making it all up that I didn’t feel well because he hadn’t gone to New York with me. We had a fight about it of course. He seemed more annoyed with me than usual which pissed me off.”

  She sighed and passed her hand over her forehead. “I think back on it sometimes. I thought a lot about it at the time, after the police brought him in for questioning. If he had gone with me to New York, I would have been able to vouch for his whereabouts.” She looked out of the coffee shop window for a minute, and then turned back to Olivia. “So anyway, he left right away when I told him I didn’t want to go out that night. Which, of course, annoyed me because I was sick and I wanted him to stay with me but, no, he just took off when I refused to go ride around with him. That’s what our relationship was like…a series of petty annoyances and arguments.” She shook her head. “After being with Kenny, all I wanted was a nice, quiet, even-keeled life. No drama.”

  “I bet. Did Kenny seem different that night, different than usual?”

  “I don’t really remember. I can’t say anything was different from normal.”

  “So the police brought him in for questioning?”

  “They did. That was frightening to me, to think maybe I was dating a murderer. Kenny was a wreck. My parents freaked out. They told me to stop seeing him or they would stop supporting me. I had just finished my freshman year in college. I commuted in to Boston for my classes. My parents wouldn’t allow me to live on campus.” She rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t afford to continue college without their support. And I sure as heck didn’t intend to stay in Howland for the rest of my life. I wanted a career. I didn’t want to be dependent on anyone else.”