Despite everything going on, Ryan fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Danny had worked the night shift, so after changing into street clothes she made her way to the antique store the minute it opened. Her thoughts on the visit were that the guy was friendly enough but certainly didn’t go out of his way to help a customer. She said there were some very high-end antiquities in the shop but the rest were reproductions.
As Ryan drove by the van, which was parked in the same spot as the night before, he made a mental note of its plates and called them in as soon as he parked. Ryan spied a flower shop and made a detour to that store. The scent of roses hit him as soon as he entered.
“Can I help you, sir?” a friendly voice called out. She had green tape in one hand and some flowers in the other.
“Yes, are you the owner?” Her nametag said Ivy. He wondered if all of the employees were named after flowers.
Her face went white when she noticed the uniform. “Yes, is there a problem?” Everyone seemed to get nervous when cops were around. Ryan had once stopped someone for going through a traffic light and the guy had peed himself.
“No, nothing to worry about. I was just wondering if I could ask you a couple questions.”
“Sure.” She set the tape and flowers on the corner and wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing.
“Do you know who owns the antique store next door?” He gestured to her left wall.
“Personally? No. I’ve seen the guy come in in the morning but he rarely leaves before I do in the evening.”
“Never talked to him or even said hi?” He took out a notebook and pen to jot down anything important.
“When he first opened, I stopped over with a welcome plant. He thanked me but that was about it.”
“Do you know his name?”
Her face scrunched up. “Uh, Bob. No, wait. Rob. Edward.” She snapped her fingers. “Edward something or other.”
“Do you know where he’s from?”
Ivy put a hand on her hip. “Is he in trouble? Is this something I need to worry about?”
“No, just following up on something. No need to worry.”
“I heard about those murders. It’s frightening. I bought a gun.” The Aerosmith song “Janie’s Got a Gun” suddenly played in his head, only it was replaced with Ivy’s Got a Gun. It was hard to picture the petite flower girl toting a pistol, but he knew from talking to one of the guys at the gun shop that women were becoming his best customers.
“Yes, we are following up on all the leads but it is best to not be alone in the shop, and be sure to keep your doors locked at home and when you are closed here.”
“We do that already. Rose is in the back finishing up a bouquet.” Looked like he was right about the employees’ names. “So, do we need to be concerned about the guy next door?” she asked again.
“Not that we are aware of. Now, do you know where he’s from?”
“No.” She clicked her fingers. “He does have a Southern accent. Does that help?”
He jotted down Rhett Butler voice. “Thanks, you’ve been very helpful, Ivy.”
“Anytime.”
He turned to leave.
“Hey, Officer. We have roses on sale today. Can we send something to a lady friend of yours?”
Ten minutes and fifty dollars later, Ryan left the flower shop and entered Bygones. A brass bell above the door announced his arrival.
Who appeared to be the same man in black as last night glanced up from some books on his counter and then quickly returned to studying them.
“Morning,” Ryan said as he approached the man. “Are you the owner?”
The guy was about his height, had salt and pepper hair, and a pair of reading glasses on the end of his nose. He looked to be in his late forties. “Yes, can I help you?” He pinched the glasses between the lenses and placed them on the counter.
“Do you have any old-fashioned flour sack towels? You know, the ones with the days of the week on them?”
“Yes, follow me.” Ryan noticed a business card by the cash register. He read the name Edward Davis and stuffed one in his pocket.
“Is this you on the card? Are you Edward?”
“Yes, this is my shop,” the man said over his shoulder.
Ryan trailed him through the packed store. There were a lot of shelves stacked with knickknacks, books, and some other things that he had no idea what they were.
“Here they are. These are vintage but we also sell reproductions.”
Ryan felt the material of both—the new ones were stiff while the vintage towels were silky and a brighter white. “Do you sell a lot of these?”
“You don’t seem like the type of guy who appreciates embroidery.”
“No, can’t say as I am, but I’m following up on something pertaining to a case.”
The man shrugged his shoulders and leaned against a shelf. “I just had a woman leave the store who asked for these also. Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Maybe I should raise the price.” He scratched his forehead.
“Have you sold any lately?”
“I gave a bunch away when I first opened. It was a gift with purchase kind of thing. I also have an online store.”
“You do?” That opened a whole other option for acquiring the towels. They didn’t have the man power to check every store or auction house on the internet.
“Yes, I have a few things on there. Mostly the new stuff and my more expensive items.”
“And what items might those be?”
The man stood up straight and crossed his arms in front of this chest. “Is there a problem, Officer? I get the feeling that you aren’t here to shop.”
“I’m not. We recently found a towel like this at the scene of a crime and we’re trying to locate where it came from.”
Edward’s face went white. “What kind of crime?”
“I’m not at liberty to say right now.” The room got quiet and he figured the helpfulness of Edward Davis was about to run out. People were usually pretty open about answering things to a man in uniform, but once they got a whiff of something more serious, the conversations start to come to an end.
“This doesn’t have to do with those murders, does it?” Now he fidgeted with the zipper on his fleece pullover.
“I’m not at—” Ryan started.
“I know, I know. Not at liberty to say. I moved to this town because I thought it was a safe place to live, and now women are being killed right and left. Why aren’t you out trying to catch this guy?”
“I’m here following up on a lead.”
“Well, you came to the wrong place because I had nothing to do with them.”
“I never said you did. Just trying to see who might have purchased any of these items.” He motioned toward the shelf full of linens. “How about sad irons? Anyone buy one of them lately?”
“Let me find out.” Ryan followed him to his back office, where Edward checked his computer. “Yes, one last week. I remember her. Nice girl named Amy something or other.”
“Did you see her any time after that purchase?”
“No.” The man’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t tell me she was one of the girls killed.”
“Why would you think that?” It was a simple question, but the response wasn’t.
“I don’t like your tone. I think you’d better leave now, Officer…” Edward glanced at his name tag.
“Donavan. I was just asking.” Ryan studied the man’s body language. His face was red and his hands twitched. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything.”
“I’m sorry, Officer Donavan. I meant no disrespect but I’ve recently had a loss as well.” That still didn’t explain why he thought Amy had been a victim.
“Here’s my card if you think of anything else related to those towels or the sad iron.”
Reluctantly, the man took his card and tucked it in his pants pocket. The man’s whole demeanor had changed and he shook like a leaf.
“I’ll show you to the door.” Edward took off down the aisle, leaving Ryan no option but to follow. Along the way, Ryan searched for anything that appeared out of place. Not that he would know what was out of place in a place like this. The price tag on some elaborate furniture near the door did catch his eye though.
He whistled. “Wow, that’s some fancy stuff.” There was a bed with elaborate carvings and a dresser that was equally as nice.
“It’s pre-Civil War era and in exceptional shape. I’m sure it’s above your pay range.” Edward opened the door.
That was rude. “Do you have some kind of problem with cops? I’m sensing some hostility here.” Ryan stood in the doorway but was not about to leave.
“Not at all. Like I said, I’ve recently had a loss. These murders are bringing up bad memories.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He took a step down and backward out the door. The man was still a few inches shorter than him. “Before I leave, what size shoe do you wear?”
“Ten.” Edward slammed the door in his face.
After a quick stop at the Java Shop, he was back at the station pouring over the case files. One of those day of the week towels had been found at Tracy’s, along with a bag from Bygones. It wasn’t until he noticed Edward’s shoes that he remembered a footprint in the mud behind the house of the first murder. A photo of it was in the file. That could be anything, but it didn’t hurt to keep track of people who wore size ten shoes. So far, Edward Davis was at the top of that list of suspects. There was something not right about that guy. Aside from the print, nothing was out of place at either scene except for the towels.
The autopsies revealed they’d both been injected in the neck with a drug. They were still waiting for the toxicology report to find out what that drug or drugs were. It was just getting odder and odder. All things pointed to this being a possible serial killer. It appeared that Tracy had hit her head when she fell, but she was ultimately smothered to death. Amy must have seen the needle coming and struggled. It was the iron to the head that was her ultimate demise. Both cases hit him in the heart and the stomach. Their parents were devastated.
He studied the info from the license plate. It belonged to Davis. According to the record, his previous address was in Georgia. That explained the accent. After a more thorough search of the internet, it was revealed that the man’s wife was dead. He found an obituary for Elizabeth LaGrander-Davis. Apparently, Edward had married well. His wife came from a very wealthy Southern family. There was no mention of how the woman died.
After a few more hours, he still had no answers but his cop radar was on high alert. Elizabeth had only been in her late forties, yet there was no mention of illness, car accident, or anything really. According to all accounts, Edward had been the sole benefactor of her large estate. Ryan’s cell phone vibrated and he glanced at the screen. It was just a text from the local gas station for a discount on gas but it reminded him to listen again to the message Danny had sent earlier.
“Hi, Ry. That guy was odd. Seemed surprised anyone would be interested in the towels yet he has a lot of them. He inherited all the merchandise from his wife. She had a shop and the furniture was hers also. That’s some high-end shit. Chippendale’s quality, and I’m not talking the dancers. We might want to check and see what happened to the wife. I’m hitting the hay. Be glad to be back on the day shift tomorrow. Text me what you found out. Thanks.”
Taking a risk, Ryan looked up the number for the nearest police station to where the Davis couple last lived. He hit the number and crossed his fingers.
“McGraw County Police. How may I direct your call?” The person on the phone sounded like a native to the area.
“This is Officer Ryan Donavan calling from the Lake Genoa Police Department in Wisconsin. I was hoping to talk to someone there who may have known Elizabeth LaGrander-Davis.”
Silence.
“Hello?” Ryan hoped he’d not been hung up on.
“Uh, yes. What did you say, Officer Ryan?”
“I’m hoping to find out more about how Elizabeth LaGrander-Davis died and see how it might relate to a case we have here.” It was a risk suggesting it but maybe he’d get lucky.
“Please hold.”
He waited and waited until a gruff voice finally said, “Hello, this is Officer Moore. You’re asking about Mrs. LaGrander-Davis?”
After giving his credentials again in a deep, authoritative voice, Ryan continued his story. “We have an ongoing murder investigation here that I think might be similar to her case.”
“Go on.” At least the man was listening.
It was a gamble but Ryan wasn’t giving up. “We’ve had two young women murdered here in the last couple weeks. They were injected with a sedative and then killed.”
There was no sound on the other end of the phone until the man finally answered. “Unfortunately, that isn’t too uncommon in this day and age. What does that have to do with Elizabeth?”
“We found items from an antique store owned by her husband at each location.”
“Damn.” The voice on the phone cursed.
“You want to tell me about it?” Ryan’s heart rate jacked up.
Officer Moore exhaled. “I’ll tell you what I know, but you didn’t hear it from me. Okay?”
“Deal.” Ryan grabbed a pen and some paper.
“That’s exactly how we found Elizabeth LaGrander-Davis and several other women in the area. She was from a very wealthy and powerful family around here. They didn’t want her tied up in all of this. Paid a big city attorney to keep everything about her death under wraps.”
“Was there anything found at the scenes? Something the victims all had in common?” He tapped his pen on the desk.
“Yes, it’s the one thing we kept out of the papers. We found an embroidered towel with each body. A day of the week kind of thing. Monday is wash day, Tuesday is mending, and on and on.”
Shit. Ryan ran his fingers through his hair. This sick individual hadn’t just killed twice but many times.
“What about Elizabeth’s husband? I don’t have to tell you that the husband is usually the one who did it in most cases.”
“Of course. Her parents hated the guy. Thought he was the killer but we had no evidence. The man was out of town during the time we found one of the victims. It just didn’t make sense.”
“What didn’t?” Besides the whole damn thing. Ryan mulled all the details over in his head for the fiftieth time.
“It’s as if the women weren’t afraid of the person who did this. That it was someone they all knew and trusted. They let the person inside their homes and there was rarely a struggle.”
It was the same in Tracy’s case.
“So whatever happened to the husband?” And why did he show up here? Ryan wanted to ask.
“Elizabeth’s parents didn’t want to see him again. Said it was like a kick in the face to see him out and about while their daughter was dead and buried. He always claimed his innocence and I think he really did care for his wife. Elizabeth wasn’t the saint they thought she was.”
“How so?” It was like a soap opera playing out in real life.
“Elizabeth liked to sleep around.” Moore spoke in a hushed tone.
“And you know this for sure?”
“As sure as I know she had a heart-shaped birthmark on her right hip.” In other words, the officer knew Mrs. LaGrander up close and personal.
“So you knew her quite well, then?” Ryan jotted a few notes down.
“As did a few others that I know. Like I said, she wasn’t as innocent as her parents thought or wanted to believe.”
“So, again, what happened to the husband?” Ryan tried to get Moore back on track.
“The LaGranders had a place somewhere up in Wisconsin. They gave him the property if he promised to get the hell out of town. As far as I know, he took them up on the offer.”
“It looks like he did, as the man lives here now.”
“Shit. And now the same thing is happening there? Guy might not be as innocent as we thought.” Moore exhaled loudly.
“No one ever is. Well, thanks, Officer Moore. Could you send us all the info you have from those cases? I think the person who may have killed the women there, whether it’s Mrs. LaGrander-Davis’s husband or not, just came to our town.”