Never Buried: A Leigh Koslow Mystery (29 page)

Leigh shook her head.

"He's burned pretty bad," she said dully. "They had a hell of a time getting him off the roof."

Leigh was anxious to change the subject. "I'm being discharged into the care of nurse Frances," she said. "Are you going to be all right? Really?"

Maura knew her friend wasn't asking about the burns. She took a deep breath. "It bothers me that I might never know for sure. What Dad knew. But since I won't, I'm going to choose to believe that he never knew what really happened. He might have suspected—I can't believe he didn't—but he couldn't have known unless Mellman told him."

Remembering something, Leigh jumped in quickly. "Mellman told me that no one knew but him and Paul."

Maura looked up, her eyes brighter. "Really? He said that?"

Happy that lying wouldn't be required, Leigh nodded again and smiled.

The policewoman relaxed back into her pillows. "Mellman always was good at keeping secrets," she said thoughtfully. "Abused children are like that, sometimes. That child went through hell and back, and no one seemed to pay attention. How could the man be healthy? It was a long time ago, but how could anyone really forget? The guilt of having taken a life? The fear of being found out? God—as if the abuse weren't enough. It was a miracle he functioned as well as he did." She was silent for a moment. "It makes you think, doesn't it?"

Leigh didn't want to think. Thinking only brought up images. Images of Robbie's fourteen-year-old body sinking into the mud at the bottom of the Ohio. Images of Mellman sleeping peacefully while Paul Fischer's body lay stiff…where? She shuddered, trying to shake the pictures out of her head. "I'm just glad your mother's okay," she repeated. "I can see why Mellman wanted to make the most of her disappearance. I mean, it certainly got you off the Fischer case, but I'm scared to think what he was going to do with her. She couldn't stay at his house forever."

Maura shook her head. "I'm not a psychiatrist, but I really don't think he ever planned to hurt her. He didn't kidnap her—she just showed up on his doorstep. Literally. Then I guess it occurred to him that distracting the rest of the force could buy him time. He took good enough care of her." She snorted. "Even brought her a change of clothes!"

Leigh wasn't convinced. "But what if he had succeeded in burning the house without being suspected? What would he do with her then?"

Maura shrugged. "Honestly, Koslow, I wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't thought that far ahead. But it wouldn't be impossible. He could return her at any time and say she just wandered up, or that she had been sleeping in his tool shed, or whatever. With the Alzheimer's, people probably wouldn't believe her if she disagreed with him. And she might not disagree with him. I still can't convince her that she was gone for a full forty-eight hours."

"But she was so sharp at the fire," Leigh protested. "She was lucid the whole time. She watched for me at the window, told the firemen you were going to the attic..."

"Alzheimer's is a bizarre illness," Maura said matter-of-factly. "I had no idea if she would follow my instructions or not. But we were all lucky she was there."

Lucky, indeed. A pause hung in the air, and Leigh knew she should probably let Maura rest. But one thing still bothered her.

“
Paul Fischer’s body,” she asked quietly, “I still don’t get it. Why?”

Maura shrugged. “Revenge, I suppose. Control. Fischer held the power when he was alive; but with his death, the upper hand became Mellman’s. There's a twisted sort of justice in Mellman's taking the body, if you think about it. Robbie's remains were left unburied; his death went unmourned. Mellman made sure the same thing happened to Fischer. He could hide the body easily enough in that big old house of his—he's lived alone for decades; half the rooms have been closed up just as long.”

“
But why put the body in the hammock?” Leigh persisted. “Do you think that when Cara found the blank journal, he figured there might be more?”

Maura nodded. “I bet he thought a body in the backyard would clear the little women out fast." She chuckled softly. “He didn’t know
you two
.”

You mean he didn’t know Cara, Leigh thought. She thanked her friend a few more times, wished her a good night's sleep, and headed back toward the waiting car. She didn't want to think anymore. She wanted to take her pain killer, drink a cup of tea, and slip into a comfortable bed with clean sheets.

A few nights of her mother's pampering wasn't looking so bad, after all.

Epilogue

Two months later, and a full two weeks after Cara's due date, Leigh walked up the brightly lit postpartum corridor at Magee Womens Hospital, a spring in her step. She located room 2834 and knocked loudly on the door.

"Come in!" shouted a happy voice.

Leigh smiled at the sight of her cousin, beaming from ear to ear and holding a tightly wrapped bundle in her arms.

"Come and meet your new nephew," the radiant mother ordered. "Mathias Luke," she said proudly, turning the little face around, "say hello to your Auntie Leigh."

Leigh looked approvingly at the perfect round face, framed by a soft halo of reddish-brown hair. His eyes, veiled with thick lashes, were peacefully closed. He was perfect. Of course.

"I guess he's a bit tired at the moment," Cara said unapologetically. "But you can see his eyes later. They're the prettiest dark blue!"

Leigh gave her cousin a hug and stroked the baby's downy cheek. "Technically," she said, quoting Charlotte, "he's my first cousin once removed. But nephew is fine by me," she grinned. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Never better," Cara answered cheerfully. "The birth was a breeze. Incredibly ironic—my needing Pitocin after all those contractions—but the doctors say it happens sometimes. And nothing matters now that Mathias is here and healthy as a horse."

A quick glance around the room told Leigh that Gil had been busy. She'd been less mad at him since discovering his covert plans to trap the arsonist, but his other irritating traits remained. The sin of excess, for example. The room was packed from floor to ceiling with fresh flowers of a hundred different varieties, balloons, candy, wrapped packages, teddy bears, and an extremely large donkey with an Uncle Sam hat. Her brow furrowed. "What the hell is that?"

"Shhh!" Cara laughed, "No cursing in front of the baby! I thought maybe you'd know what it was. It's from your friend, Warren. The note says something about raising the baby right."

Leigh chuckled. "I think he means left."

"Speaking of friends, how's Maura doing?" Cara asked, concerned.

"Great. Her burns hardly bother her anymore. She was really lucky. We both were."

Cara's eyes saddened. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. If I hadn't been such a romantic...."

Leigh waved the sentiment away. "Don't be ridiculous. You and Gil"—she cringed at the admission—"had us safely moved out. I went back in of my own idiocy. If anybody should apologize, it's me, for getting Maura into it."

"You haven't said..." Cara asked tentatively, "what will happen to Mellman?"

There was a pause as Leigh sighed, tired of the topic. "His burns are healing, so physically, he'll recover. Emotionally is another story. I expect he's looking at early retirement and a hell of a lot of counseling, at the very least."

"The evidence—"

"There is no evidence. Paul's journals burned. All that's left of them is my recollection, and if you ask me, I'll say it's fuzzy. Not to mention that it was hearsay to begin with. 1949 won't cause him any problems. 1999 is another story."

Cara's face had lost its shine, and Leigh found that unacceptable. "Look!" she cooed, pointing at the tiny face in the blanket. "He's waking up!"

Mathias Luke March stretched against the wrapping with tiny fists until one plastic-banded arm escaped. He yawned, then returned to somnolence.

"Isn't he precious!" Cara exclaimed, all traces of melancholy gone. "Gil says he looks like me, but I say he has his father's chin."

"Where is the proud papa, anyway?"

Cara laughed. "Out to lunch, and probably the mall. Our credit cards will never recover."

Leigh doubted that. "I'm glad you two—I mean you three—are so happy."

A thoughtful smile passed Cara's lips. "This whole business has taught me something, you know."

"Oh? Don't get involved in half-century old mysteries?" Leigh said lightly. She hated when her cousin got mushy.

"No, silly. Don't hold back things from people you love, even if you think you're protecting them. I should have told Gil about the threats from the beginning. He probably could have helped."

Leigh looked skeptical.

"And
you
," Cara said accusingly, "should have told me that you were worried about that butcher knife."

Leigh sighed heavily. "How was I supposed to know you were the one who got it out?"

Cara rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake, Leigh, I was holding it right behind you the whole time you were looking for Mao Tse! I thought you saw it. You might be foolish enough to confront an intruder without a weapon, but I'm not!"

"Well," Leigh said, reluctant to apologize, "it's over with now. Let's think about more pleasant things. Like little Mathias here."

It was a guaranteed ploy. Cara looked down at the sleeping infant and kissed his red head tenderly. "Oh!" she said suddenly. "I almost forgot to tell you. We bought a farm!"

Leigh blinked. "A what?"

"A farm!" the new mother beamed. "Snow Creek Farm. Six acres right in the middle of McCandless! It's beautiful—you're going to love it. It's got an old farmhouse, and a big empty barn, and there's a pond with turtles. Won't that be great for Matt? And there's even a log cabin by the creek—"

Leigh laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" Cara smiled.

"Couldn't you just get one of those nice new mansions in a Franklin Park plan, complete with a wooden swing set and a fence?"

"How perfectly boring," Cara teased. "I would die. Did I mention that the farmhouse is supposed to be haunted? And that the field in front is a flood plain?"

Leigh promptly exploded into laughter, and was pleased to notice that her lungs no longer ached with the effort. "I give up!" she said. "You're hopeless."

Cara laughed with her. "You'll see it for yourself soon enough. We'll be all moved in before the month is out."

"No doubt."

"By the way," Cara said, changing the subject, "any more newspaper gigs?"

Leigh smiled. The ordeal at the Fischer/March house had had one positive effect. The story got reported just as she wanted it—because she had written it herself and sold it freelance. It was the first “real” story she’d ever gotten published, and a copy of the check was still taped to the refrigerator in her new apartment. "No more freelancing for a while, no," she answered. “I think I’ll be plenty busy.”

Cara smiled. “So Jeff Hulsey finally won you over, eh?”

Leigh grinned. She had to admit she’d been enjoying the account rep’s ceaseless badgering. Several key members of her old team had decided to start up their own agency, and they wanted her on board. Badly. On the bright side, there would be no more random layoffs. On the down side, they could all starve together. “It’s a scary proposition,” she answered. “But as soon as Jeff gets the financing together, it’s a go. And I’m in.”

“
And staying in advertising is really what you want?” Cara asked tentatively.

Leigh thought about the negatives—losing accounts for spurious reasons, the occasional late night marathons. But she couldn’t help but think of the positives—rolling with laughter over a facetious ad campaign, collecting checks for dreaming up the same dumb stuff she’d been spinning off effortlessly ever since she was child. And now she had a chance to be her own boss.

“
Yes,” she said confidently. “It’s really what I want.”

"Then you can do it," Cara encouraged. "I know you can."

Leigh turned her head, embarrassed, and spotted a bouquet of pink balloons just behind the recliner. She pointed at them, puzzled. "Is this an effort at neutralizing sexism, or does Mathias have a twin sister I don't know about?"

Cara grinned broadly. "Mathias isn't the only one with a birthday today. Did you think I would forget?"

Leigh looked from the pink Happy Birthday balloons to the smiling face of her cousin, and her eyes grew moist. How could she expect her to remember? Today of all days?

"I won't even make jokes about your age," Cara said slyly. "But we both know it doesn't have a two in it anymore."

Leigh blinked forcefully and gave her cousin another hug. "That's okay. Sometimes change is for the better."

***

Enjoy all five mysteries in the Leigh Koslow Mystery Series: Never Buried, Never Sorry, Never Preach Past Noon, Never Kissed Goodnight, and Never Tease a Siamese, available now as e-books! To find out more about these and other books by Edie Claire, including her novels of classic romantic suspense and comedic stage plays, visit www.edieclaire.com , or email the author at [email protected]. Thanks for reading!