~ Deadly Hunt ~

by

W. C. Filyaw

I knew the front door was locked, no need in trying it. However, I remembered Richard telling me one time about the back door being so messed up anyone with a firm grip could jimmy it open. Two minutes later, I gave the door my full strength. It moaned before yielding.

Sunset spilled in to a cemetery of filing cabinets and storage boxes but left in a whoosh when I closed the door behind me. The building had few windows, and the ones it did have were too high to bring in more than ceiling light. I felt along the wall until landing on a light switch, flipped it on and started maneuvering around piles of whatever Richard had discarded.

The office furniture was dim, misshapen structures that reminded me of cars suddenly caught in an ice storm on the freeway. I paused for a moment and forced myself to listen to the traffic rumbling down Main Street in a haze of exhaust and humidity. It was late afternoon, after all. It’s not like I was caught in a midnight rendezvous with a fog-cloaking-mass-murderer.

There was more than enough light to move down the hallway. I wanted to check out the front office first, just in case Betty Sue scurried there when she heard someone coming through the back of the building. I knew I was behaving like Jessica Fletcher, allowing myself to work with keen perception. Old buildings make noises; there was no reason why this one should be an exception. Perhaps the rats were plotting to overthrow me. I envisioned finding them in little tanks, and pushing cannons and they would march in a single line to kill the giant that had come to claim their territory.

A strange, squeaking noise came from behind one of the closed doors. The sound was loud, unmistakable. Not even in my wildest imagination could I envision rat troops large enough to make that screech. I paused again, and so did my breath, my feet frozen to the floor and my fingernails were cutting into my palms. Jessica Fletcher was better at this, I thought, as I held steady and gaped into the darkness shrouding the hall. She would prowl ahead, fearless in the face of danger. I, on the other hand, felt that turning tail and running was more acceptable for a woman my age, which planned to have more birthdays in the future, including that age referred to by the Social Security Administration as a senior citizen.

I tried to convince myself that I was not a coward, under certain circumstances. It was a late afternoon in Whispering Pines; the town hadn’t yet pulled in the sidewalks. Farmers would be outside working in the cool of the evening in their gardens, and shop owners would be locking up and chatting on the sidewalk about the day they’d had. Hanover Realtors was not a den of lions and I was not about to be devoured by mouth-watering, flesh-eating teeth.

It took several minutes of mental pleading to get my feet to moving again. Squaring my shoulders, I eased the facing door open. I must confess there was a slight tremble in my hand, but I hadn’t yet resumed breathing. My heart paused as a figure stood up behind the desk.

"Jessica, what are you doing here?" said Betty Sue.

"What do you think you’re doing, hiding in the dark like this?" I demanded when I could trust my voice.

"I’m not. I just got caught up in work and didn’t realize how late it was getting. For a moment, I thought I heard the back door opening. But, dismissed it as my mind playing tricks on me. Guess I was wrong."

"According to the grapevine, you’re a missing person!" One of my hunches definitively paid off.

Her white teeth glinted in the semi-darkness. "I can’t be too lost if you found me. And why would anyone think such a thing?"

"Would you please explain what you’re doing here? Then, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to ask you a few questions." I was rather proud of myself for the show of indignation, since my legs had turned to mush and my heart to an uncontrollable beating drum.

"Sit down, and I’ll answer the best I can." She switched on a desk lamp and motioned toward a chair in the corner. "Now," she said genially, when she leaned back in the chair, "I would suspect you’ve been trying to solve a crime that is not any of your business. Am I right?"

I numbly told her all that I had learned about Christopher Kelly, inwardly despising the woman for the superior expression she splashed in my direction. I admitted I had come to search the place for her whereabouts.

"You were presumed missing and possibly in danger!" I said as I pointed a finger in her general direction.

"I have been swamped with work since Richard’s death. I actually thought everything would be in order since I was the one that took care of most of the paperwork. But, much to my surprise, everything is a mess. I could unearth a herd of buffalo in all this clutter. And that, my dear Jessica, is the only thing I’m in danger of."

I considered a few tart suggestions but bit down on my lower lip and paused to gather the points I planned on bringing out. Now that I had her where she couldn’t turn tail and run, I wanted to get one step in ahead of Henry by demanding answers from the one person I’m sure knows more than what she was telling. "Where do you suppose Christopher Kelly is right now?"

"I have no idea," she said cheerfully, "furthermore, I don’t care. Why would his whereabouts be of interest to me anyway?"

Protected by the shadows cased by the lamp, I made an unladylike gesture at her and said, "I figured since you were the one that set every thing into motion, and in such detail I might add, that you also would know where we might find him."

For the first time, she sounded a bit boorish. "Perhaps you should leave, Jessica. I don’t appreciate the insinuation."

"I wish none of this had happened, but that hardly alters the situation, does it?" I crossed my legs and tried to find a comfortable position in the upright chair. There wasn’t one. After resolving to buy ointment for my oncoming backache, I resumed the conversation. "I think he had something to do with Richard’s murder. I’ll go a step further and say I truly believe he actually committed the crime. Are you covering for him?"

"Well," she said, smirking sarcastically. "I have told you and Henry all that I know about Richard’s death. I don’t like the fact that it happened any more than you do. I take that back--I loved him deeply and you of all people should know how it feels to lose a loved one."

"I get the point." Even I could understand on that level. "But you must admit all of this leads back to what Betty Sue started. The school situation had nothing to do with his murder and you’ve known that all along."

"I fail to see what one thing has to do with another. It was just stupid research. I wish now I hadn’t given it to him. It’s been nothing but trouble since. I really believed I could show Richard how good I am at finding out things. He had planned on doing the legwork. It was supposed to bring us a new start."

"If you don’t know where this Christopher Kelly is, then how did he know to come out of the woodwork?"

"I’m not so sure he did. You’re working on a hunch. All that’s happened may be nothing more than a coincidence. And if that’s all you have to go on, then I suggest you start snooping elsewhere."

"It’s the only thing that chimes with the facts. Would you rather believe someone we know killed Richard?" I sighed, remembering everyone’s vow of innocence. On the other hand, I added judiciously, I might be faced with the real murderer and all else had served as a decoy. Nothing more than a wild-goose chase.

"Let me see if I fully understand what you’re saying. I composed proof of an old crime and gave it to Richard. And magically, one of the characters, this Kelly guy, finds out about it and commits murder so the word won’t get out about his past. Am I following you correctly?"

The chair squeaked, but I couldn’t tell what her hands were doing beneath the desk. Perhaps loading a gun with a silencer, I thought with a twinge of apprehension. At least she was remaining calm, in view of the conversation.

"Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be suspicious of this guy?" I asked.

"Consider what you’re implying. I never found him, what makes you think Richard did? I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, he couldn’t find soap in a soap dish. You’re barking up the wrong tree--grabbing for straws. If you want someone to blame, blame Wednesday. She had the perfect--"

"And what might that be?"

"Love--" She broke off, and even in the dim light I could almost hear her body tensing as she rose to her feet.

"What?" I said, staring at her in total confusion. "Do you have a cramp?"

"Shhh. I heard a noise."

"I didn’t hear anything," I protested in a voice louder than intended. I was avoiding acting like a nervous ninny.

"Shhh. Sit there and be quiet. Someone is trying to get in the back door."

I did as requested, but after several minutes the anticipation grew mind numbing. I hadn’t heard anything, and I was not about to sit and hold my tongue and breath indefinitely. Although, I admitted to myself, it seemed that Betty Sue had no need of oxygen or of Valium.

When I was about to suggest she sit back down, the door opened. A wide-mouthed flashlight flooded into my face, blinding me with its brightness. I put my hands over my eyes. "For Christ’s sake, shut that thing off!" I growled.

The light clicked off as Betty Sue came from behind the desk with the determination of a skillful host. Hand contact was made. Henry and Betty Sue smiled as if they were two long lost buddies.

As strange as the scene was, it began to drag on and on. I reached over my shoulder and switched on the ceiling light. Then, bright with curiosity, I sat back to watch the scene unfold.

Henry and Betty Sue glanced at me when the light flooded the room. However, it wasn’t until after a few parting smiles before they moved away from each other and retreated to individual seats. Their expressions were both pleasant; their mouths recoiled to their normal positions, their eyes glazed by the sudden sight of each other. They breathed in unison.

"Henry, what are you doing here?" I asked, when he seemed to have recovered from seeing Betty Sue. She made a rude noise at me, but I ignored her and kept my eyes on Henry.

"First Jessica and now you, Henry," Betty Sue murmured, nodding to each of us. "I must say this is an unexpected, but pleasant, surprise. Might I mention also strange?"

It was eerie, this repetition of we three, like the evening of the funeral. And before that, the morning of Richard’s murder. Henry raised his eyebrows at me, then parked one hip on a filing cabinet. "I thought you’d be listed among the dead. But, here you are. I’m glad to see you’re alive and well. I assume you’re just hiding out."

"How observant of you, Henry. I’ve been here all day working on the books. Like I was just explaining to Jessica," Betty Sue said with self-righteousness. Despite the blunt tone, it was almost shaky.

"And let everyone believe you were either missing or had skipped town."

Betty Sue slapped her forehead in mock resentment. "So that’s what I’ve been doing! I’ve been scheming to draw in the care of everyone, especially yours, Henry." The chair’s cushion puffed out a swish of air when she fell back into it.

I admired the show. No admission of anything more damning than a bout of independence. "We wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened to poor, poor Richard," I said softly. "You might have considered that the killer is still out there and until he is found, no one is safe."

The mention of Richard’s murder deflated her. She peered down toward her lap and had the grace to look ashamed and a smidge bit vulnerable, but not guilty. However, it didn’t take long before she popped back to her old self. "Look, Henry and Jessica. I am not accountable to anyone anymore. At one time I felt the responsibility to give Richard a detailed rundown of my goings and comings, but that’s no longer possible, as the two of you very well know. In a strange way, I suppose, I really do appreciate the unfailing emotions on my behalf. But it’s no longer necessary. So, the two of you can go home and let me get back to work."