Weaving The Web: A Cold Hollow Mystery (Cold Hollow Mysteries Book 2) (19 page)

EPILOGUE

Artie grabbed the coffee tray and the bag of sweets for the police station, and slid the money to Donnie. He left the bakery and climbed into his truck after securely placing the goods on the passenger seat. After making his way to the police station, he grabbed the delivery and entered through the front door. Ted Cutler was there, going over a file as Artie deposited the goods on his desk.

“Whatcha looking at, Ted?”

Ted scratched his head. “We still have an unsolved murder and another missing person, and I’m just going over Warren Measly’s file.”

Artie noticed a picture in the file and pointed. “Is that him?”

“Yes. Didn’t you ever see Warren around town?”

Artie snickered. “I didn’t see much until I had eye surgery. My vision was horrid.”

Ted handed the photo of Warren to Artie. “You recognize him?”

Artie pursed his lips and mumbled, “He looks familiar, but if it’s who I think it is, I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Why not?”

“Because he arrived at the rehabilitation facility about two weeks before a bunch of us were released here to Cold Hollow. So I didn’t see Warren for long.”

“Did he have any friends there that you know of?”

Artie winced and shook his head. “Not many, although he did talk a lot to one of us.”

Ted bolted upright. “Who? You tell me, Artie! Tell me who! The killer we can’t find was Warren’s friend!”

Artie staggered back and couldn’t get the words out. He didn’t want to, so he shouted instead, “We have to get to Myrna! Now!”

As he scrambled toward the front door, Ted grabbed the photo and roared, “Come with me in my squad car!”

***

Liam was on a hiking trip with Ranger Morrissey, seeing as Tom was home for the day to protect Myrna. Myrna took advantage of the time and set up her sewing machine on the dining room table. It was time to begin working on her wedding dress. They had planned on a fall wedding, and it was the perfect time to begin the arduous task. After watering their gardens, Tom entered the kitchen through the back door and smiled, but quickly frowned at the sound of police sirens in the distance. The sound was coming closer to their home. He watched as Myrna pulled out a chair at the dining room table and patted the seat.  He went to her side and sat down.

The sirens were deafening now and Myrna glanced out the front windows to see Ted Cutler and Artie running towards their front door. She sat beside Tom and held his hand beneath the table as the two men burst into her living room. Ted was going for his weapon and Myrna scowled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ted?”

He shook Warren’s picture at Tom. “Your fiance knew Warren in the rehabilitation facility!”

Myrna’s eyes drooped. “How could he? A group of us left there after he had only been there two weeks. Didn’t the chief tell you?”

“Yes, but Artie…” He looked at Artie for help. Artie was busy cowering away from Myrna.

Artie knew the look Myrna was giving Ted and he didn’t want it directed at him. He scurried over to her, bent, and whispered in her ear. “I worry about you so much, Myrna. Without you, this town would be lost. I believed I recognized Warren’s photo now that my eyes are fixed. I remember Tom talking to him at the facility.”

Myrna turned to Artie. “Tom was too busy in the clinic at the facility to stop and jibber jabber with other inmates! Also, your eyes were a bloody mess back then, so explain to me how you could possibly recognize anyone from over ten years ago!”

Artie stepped away from her and apologized to Tom. He sat beside Tom and patted his arm, “It’s all a big mistake, Doctor Tom, I swear. I’m sorry.”

Tom chuckled and shook Artie’s hand. “No problem, Artie. It was an honest mistake. I admire your eagerness to solve the problems of this town and I’m so glad your eyesight has improved.”

He then addressed Ted Cutler, “Ted, I saw and spoke with inmates in the rehabilitation facility. I was under surveillance there as the clinic’s physician. I conversed with many inmates daily to check up on their health, exercise, and dietary habits. To say I was Warren’s friend is a little absurd considering the brevity of time we were in the institution together. If you want to search this house, feel free to do so.”

Ted shook his head and replied, “It’s all a big misunderstanding. I apologize for the intrusion on your day.”

Myrna smiled. “It’s understandable, Ted.  Thank you for your quick response time to my home, but as you can see, I’m safe here with my fiance.” She leaned into Tom and beamed at his face.

Ted blushed and excused himself. Artie stood and waved goodbye to Myrna and Tom hoping like hell he hadn’t angered either one of them.

As soon as they shut the door, it reopened and the chief came bustling inside the home. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder towards the driveway, “I just gave those two holy hell for rushing here and harassing you, Tom. It was unfounded.”

Tom raised a hand to the air and replied, “It’s all resolved now, Chief. It was an innocent mistake on Artie’s part.”

The chief took off his hat and approached the dining room table. “I just wanted to inform you, Myrna, upon closer inspection of Warren’s property, we found Belinda Carlisle’s remains in the weasel’s barn loft. He did a number on the poor woman that makes Carla’s death look positively pretty.”

Myrna slowly closed her eyes and swallowed. “I’m sorry to hear it, but at least it’s all over with now. The town can finally breathe a sigh of relief.”

“Yep, we sure can.” He popped his hat back on his head and said goodbye to them. His wish was for the town to remain silent for a few years. He didn’t think his blood pressure could take much more abuse. He also assumed when he took the job as chief, this nice quiet town would take him right into an early retirement, but as it turned out, he had an inkling the place would continue to keep him hopping.

When the front door shut behind him, Tom asked, “Are you going to start working on your wedding gown today?”

She threaded the needle of her machine as she spoke. “Yes, it
was
the plan, but I can’t find my bolt of silk. It’s not where I left it. Did you move it?”

Tom grabbed a glass of ice tea and walked to the basement door. “I’ll check downstairs for you. I know you hate the basement, but I think I left it down there.” As he descended the stairs, he recalled Myrna’s past and knew why she feared basements. Her deceased husband used to drag her to the basement of their old home and beat her senseless so the neighbors couldn’t hear her screams. Bob Bradbury had been such a rotten pustule on the ass of life; Tom cringed at the memory of him.

As he reached up to a shelf above the dryer for the bolt of silk, he reflected back in time. As Myrna and he became closer, he felt safe to discuss all of his problems with her. Neither of them wanted there to be any secrets between them. When he confessed his flashbacks and compulsions, he had expected her to run for the hills, but perhaps love had overruled her senses because he was shocked to find her to be understanding. When she had confessed how she had killed her abusive husband and orchestrated the deaths of Nazar and Ranger Bullock, he retaliated with the same support she had given him. She had told him they would work on their individual problems together, as a couple should. The only rule was for him to tell her when the flashbacks returned and/or when his hunger became intolerable. He had the problem since youth and had staved it off as long as he could. He was never caught either. What landed him in Cold Hollow was a computer glitch at the hospital where he had worked.

By all the information he had gathered throughout time pertaining to his problem, he was convinced he would forever be incapable of loving another, but to his amazement, he found love right here, in this town, with Myrna. He never felt he would be capable of such a feeling, and here he was, not only in love with one person, but also in love with two. Little Liam tugged at his heartstrings every day. If there were ever a chance of him finally shaking this compulsion, he was sure Myrna would help him find the way. He often dreamed of them being kindred souls.

Myrna kicked off her shoes and slid out from behind the table. She tiptoed to the open basement door and asked, “Tom, how on earth did you manage to get Belinda’s body up to Warren’s barn loft?”

She heard him reply from the bowels of the basement she hated. “What a heifer! I put her up there two nights ago. I almost gave myself a massive hernia.”

Myrna placed her fingertips to her lips and snickered. Tom showed up at the base of the steps holding the bolt of silk under his left arm. He glanced at her sheepishly. “I’m afraid you might have to wear a shorter gown for the wedding. I used quite a bit of the silk.”

Her hand fell away from her lips and she smiled. “It’s perfectly fine. You love when I show off my legs anyway.”

He ascended the staircase and when he reached the top, he replied, “Honey, I love everything about you. You have a way of seeing to all of my needs.” She skipped back to her sewing machine, her ponytail swaying back and forth, as he placed the bolt of fabric beside her.

She glanced up from her machine and looked at him. “Sit beside me and relax. There is nothing to worry about, it’s over now. I was so angry about what Warren did to Carla; I wanted to kill him myself. Her death was unfounded. Carla Macy was not only my friend, but also a perfect resident for Cold Hollow. I’m glad Sarah shot him in the head.”

Tom replied, “Believe me, Myrna, had I known of his intentions I would have done whatever I could to stop him.”

She tilted her head and softly smiled at him. “I know you would. However, the Carlisle’s on the other hand would never change. They needed to go. They were bad seeds from the get-go. Their biggest mistake was threatening our little Liam.”  She waved her hand through the air as though swatting at a pesky fly. “They were such a pain in my ass for years!” 

He sat in the chair beside hers and smiled. “Not anymore.” He listened to his fiancé’s giggle as she pulled out her measuring tape. She was finally beginning the wedding gown that would lead them into a bright future.

“Was Warren really so competitive? Did he think he could best anyone at anything, even you?”

Tom chuckled. “Yep, he always had issues. He was under the impression that he was superior to everyone.”

She laughed aloud, “Not anymore,” and he joined in her laughter.

As she sat and began double checking the measurements, she asked him softly, “Is your hunger satiated now?”

He placed his right hand over her left. “It is beyond satiated.”

She smiled at him. “How long do you think you’ll be able to resist your urges this time?”

He reassured her, “Decades. Those video’s I have will pull me through the worst of times.”

He squeezed her hand and she leaned towards him and kissed his supple lips. When she pulled away, she replied, “Good. That makes me very happy.”

He whispered back in a sultry breath, “That’s my job, Myrna.”

As Myrna bent over the fabric measuring it accurately, she thought after all of this time, the town’s problems were finally behind them. She often said she felt like the town’s mother and sometimes, well…some of her children needed punishing and she had procured the perfect man for the job.

The End

Excerpt from Book Three of the Cold Hollow Mysteries

“One potato, two potato, three potato, four!” Maurice Gillette tapped the top of each decapitated head mounted atop the white picket fence as he sauntered by. His right hand rested atop the last head in the row. His long fingers massaged the wrinkled scalp and greasy hair. He wore a sly grin while his green eyes surveyed the remainder of the neighborhood. He noticed a red rosebush in full bloom nearby, pinched off four blossoms, and jammed one into each of his victims’ mouths.

It was the darkest of nights, and he had slithered into the homes with little to no problem. His actions had been swift and determined. His heartbeat never escalated. His breathing was slow and regulated as he dispatched his business competitors and their conniving wives. Not a single sound was made. With this rather nasty task accomplished, he was now free to travel with his trusted driver and reap the benefits those beheaded cretins had tried to deny him. He never hired thugs to do the dirty work. In his mind, it was a waste of money to hire someone when he was capable of doing it himself.

He motioned to his driver and watched as he pulled up to the curb. After he pulled off a plastic suit covering his usual attire, head, and shoes, the driver opened his door for him and closed it once he was safely inside the vehicle. He stretched in the backseat, removed a pair of plastic gloves, and tossed them, along with the bundled plastic suit, in a waste bag attached to the interior of the door, and then massaged his neck muscles.

His trusted driver took his position again behind the wheel. The driver’s eyes went to the rearview mirror as he asked, “Are we going home to the mansion now, or do you need me to do some cleanup?”

Maurice grimaced as he stared at the picket fence. “No cleanup is required. Let’s leave them on display, shall we? We’ll dump this waste bag once we cross state lines.” They were currently on the border of Tennessee and Arkansas. Home was Durham, North Carolina, so it was going to be a lengthy trip. The Cadillac Escalade was a comfortable ride, so Maurice didn’t mind.

The fact that his driver didn’t speak or turn the classical music on as he pulled away told Maurice one thing: Adam had questions again. He tolerated his questions for one reason: Adam simply delighted in Maurice’s twisted versions of childhood nursery rhymes. After ten minutes of silence had passed, Maurice asked, “What is bothering you, Adam?”

“I have questions, boss.”

Maurice relaxed back in his seat; deep in his mind, he knew this conversation was going to be lengthy. When he cleared his throat, indicating he was ready, Adam began.

“Boss, you were so swift it was almost angelic. They didn’t even suffer.”

“Well, to be truthful, Adam, it wasn’t angelic so much as it was merciful.”

“What if they had tried to fight you? How would their deaths have been?”

Maurice sneered. “Cruel, Adam. Their deaths would have been cruel.”

“How’d you do it? You didn’t bring any weapons in those houses with you.”

“I used the two hands my parents gave me, Adam.”

“Are you yanking my chain, boss?”

“If by ‘chain,’ you are referring to the male anatomy which dangles between your thighs, then I would say no. With my strength, it’s highly probable I would rip the ‘ever-so-large’ appendage from your torso simply by yanking it.”

Adam chuckled. “Where’d you get all that strength? I mean, didn’t they scream? You must have been fast.”

“To this day, I do not know from which parent I inherited my strength or swiftness. To stop a sleeping victim from screaming, you simply grasp each side of the head, give a sharp twist, and voila—the deed is complete. Ripping the cranium from the torso is a messy task. It’s never a clean tear. However, I was fortunate enough to find a nifty little coping saw in one of the homes. Didn’t you notice the jagged pieces of flesh?”

“I did, boss. That’s why I was wondering what the hell you used.”

Maurice stared out the windows as the scenery passed by. Adam stated, “There wasn’t a whole lot of blood this time either.”

Maurice’ lips twitched into a grin, and he licked them. “I know. Let’s just say I’m tidy and leave it at that.” He reminisced about the sound of the flesh as he sawed it away from the victim’s neckline to separate for mounting and sighed.

A brief silence indicated Adam was done with his questions for the day. Maurice said, “If you’d care to indulge me, I would enjoy nothing more than to regale you with your favorite nursery rhymes as we travel. It’s going to be a long drive.”

The driver smiled as he pulled on to the freeway. “That would be most enjoyable, sir.” Maurice grinned. He noticed Adam was imitating the way he himself spoke. Adam never called him “sir.” It was always “Boss.”

As they traveled, he recited the nursery rhyme “Little Bo Peep.” Adam chuckled as Maurice delved further into the story, announcing with gusto, “I have it on good authority that after she regained her sheep, she was molested for hours by two demons in the family barn.”

Adam wiped tears of laughter from his eyes as he drove one-handed. His employer had a way of twisting and embellishing a tale. The driver assumed he was done with the story, but he wasn’t. “To top it off, she later gave birth to a goat and was exiled from her village.” The driver gasped as laughter took hold. “It must have been a good time, Adam. Don’t you think? I used to read that tale to my son, Tom, when he was young.” He plucked at the fingers of his fine leather gloves as he pulled them on. He grinned. “It is such a glorious, horrid little tale.”

Adam chuckled and asked for more rhymes as they crossed state lines. Maurice did not hesitate for a moment and smoothly transitioned to “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater.”

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