Bryan thought about that a few minutes. “Think it was a suit or a jacket of some kind. I don’t really remember.”
“And you don’t know if they were together or not? If they drove up together—or if they met at the pumps?” Vickie asked.
“No idea. No idea at all,” Bryan said. “Hey, I told you. People steal things. You have to keep an eagle eye on folks in the store. Now, I appreciate a beauty, but I also appreciate making my living here, you know? It’s Bruce and me. We’re the workforce.”
“That’s understandable,” Devin said. “But let me ask you just one more question.”
Bryan suddenly pointed at her. “You’re the law. You’re some kind of cop.”
“I’m really not a cop,” Devin said, offering him a sweet smile. “Please, we understand. You were busy. You don’t know if they came together or met at the pump. Did they leave together?”
Again he was thoughtful—puzzled, as if he was trying to pull up the images in his memory.
“I don’t think so,” he said at last.
They both thanked him and headed back for the car.
“Hey!” he called after them.
They turned back and waited.
“It was some kind of a gray jacket. Like a snooty gray jacket. Yeah, and he had a scarf, too—it was a snooty scarf. You could just tell.”
Vickie and Devin glanced at one another. They both shouted out their thanks; it was sincere.
Bryan gave them a smile—which had most of a mouthful of teeth. “Glad to help!”
*
Griffin was glad to see that Vickie and Devin seemed to have done well on their trek out to speak with the guys at the gas station.
When they arrived at Charlie Oakley’s place, he insisted they come in for coffee, too.
Coffee seemed to be the retired detective’s icebreaker. And both Vickie and Devin were very sweet and polite with the man. They obliged.
Griffin was glad. He was getting the sense that Charlie Oakley felt his memories and opinions were undervalued. Vickie and Devin—by not being determined to hurry off—seemed to validate the man, and he appeared to be happy and gratified. Griffin knew that a little extra time and attention now just might help them in the future.
It was also the right and decent way to treat the man.
So, as they all settled in, he asked, “How did it go?”
They summarized their conversation with Bryan, how he’d seen a man talking with Helena at the pumps, and how, just when they were leaving, he remembered what the man had been wearing.
Detective Merton grunted. “See? At least they remembered that she talked to a man when they spoke with you,” he said.
“Yes, and we only spoke with Bryan. Seems they run a busy place. They have to be careful. People are mostly all thieves, you know? They have to watch all the time. It was very busy the day that Helena was there. But one of them would have taken the honor of flirting with her—if she hadn’t been talking to a man already,” Vickie said.
“Way more than they gave us!” Merton said.
“You know, of course,” Rocky pointed out, “that this man could have been anyone, and he could have simply been saying, ‘Hello, nice weather we’re having.’”
“Yes, that’s true. But now we know that he was ‘medium’ in age and size, dignified and a ‘snooty’ dresser. At least his scarf was snooty. But hey, sometimes those boys call it as they see it,” Merton said.
“It’s something,” Griffin said. He stood, and the others rose, as well. They began the all-around goodbye handshakes, and then headed out.
“Of course, if you think of anything...” Griffin said as they were leaving.
“You’ll get a call, absolutely,” Charlie Oakley told them.
“You know that Magruder and I are also available in any capacity you need, at any time,” Merton told Griffin. “By the way, where are you staying?”
“The Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast.”
“Oh, yeah?” Merton asked, grinning. “Are you planning on a séance or something this evening?”
“No. I’ve stayed before, and love the place and the manager,” Devin said. “Our director and his wife have stayed several times, too. No séances.”
“I think they’re usually trying to contact Lizzie—maybe get a confession out of her,” Rocky said. “Or maybe Andrew or Abby Borden. We’re looking for other answers.”
“I’ve never stayed,” Vickie said. “It will be interesting.”
“Hey, it’s a nice bed for the night. Sure, some people are into gruesome history, but the house is also just beautifully kept,” Charlie Oakley told them.
“We’re planning on meeting up with Syd Smith, who has been a guide there and worked at the history museum, too. He’s popping in to join us tomorrow. You just never know,” Griffin said.
“Nope, you never know just who may say what and when that may help,” Charlie Oakley agreed. “I know Syd. He was the one who had to call it in when he found Sheena’s body. Anyway, it may be late in the game, but I know that Sheena Petrie was the victim of a killer who was never caught. Even if it’s been a lot of years, well, I’d love to see someone pay. That poor woman. At the very least, and no matter how late, she deserves justice.”
Griffin nodded, meeting the older man’s eyes.
“I agree, sir,” he assured him. “It’s never too late for justice.”
7
“The home is a Greek Revival house, erected in 1845,” Devin said to Vickie. “Lee Ann, the manager here, has done an incredible job of restoring the house to the appearance it had during the time of the murders.”
They had just parked at the Lizzie Borden house; Griffin and Rocky were waiting in the small parking lot with the car while she and Devin checked in at the small building in back—a reproduction of the barn that had once stood at the same spot.
“So, have you ever encountered Lizzie here?” Vickie asked. She realized that it would be a crazy question for most people, but in their case, she wasn’t teasing in the least.
But Devin shook her head. “No. And I don’t believe I ever will. First, as we know, not everyone dead remains on earth as a spirit. Lizzie hated this house—she desperately wanted to live somewhere more in fitting with what she considered her position in life to be. I sincerely doubt she’d come back here. Of course, Abby and Andrew Borden died horribly, which might well mean that they would hang about. But no, when we’ve come, we’ve usually done so on a trip from Virginia to Salem, just as a nice stopover. I simply love Lee Ann, and I love the house.”
“How on earth did you become so involved with this house?” Vickie asked, both amused and intrigued. She knew the story of the murders, of course. No child grew up in the state of Massachusetts without hearing the rhyme about Lizzie Borden taking up her ax. And she knew that the house where the crimes had occurred was a popular destination as a bed-and-breakfast and as a museum, as well.
She was just somewhat surprised that Devin—who had Auntie Mina, her own resident ghost—would be so drawn to a “haunted” house.
Devin laughed softly. “Actually, we have other friends from Salem who are agents now—Jenna Duffy and Sam Hall. Jenna was the one who brought me here first. She was with the Krewe before Sam, who was an attorney. Anyway, she and Sam both believe that studying the past helps us with the present. And, of course, unsolved cases usually captivate us the most. Think about it—everyone is fascinated by Jack the Ripper. Yet how many people have heard of Herman Mudgett, for instance? Mudgett killed dozens of people during the Chicago Exposition, but he was caught. The mysteries that remain are what compel us. Many wouldn’t be mysteries these days, with the forensic science we’ve accrued. But we can’t help but wonder what the truth is.”
“Do you think the theories we’ve heard today could be the truth? That someone killed Sheena Petrie years ago—and that same someone has Helena Matthews now?” Vickie asked.