At quarter past eight she got up, showered and dressed. By eight-forty-five she was in her car headed toward the Coach House. She had skipped her usual light breakfast and coffee. They might be more talkative if I have breakfast there.
She was happy to see that there were only a handful of cars in the parking lot. Two waiters were serving those eating at the counter. Aline looked around. If Kerry was having a private conversation with somebody, she would have chosen a table for two as far away from the other diners as possible. Probably one of the tables to the right or to the left that are up against the windows.
The man behind the register asked, “How many in your party?”
“Just one,” she said. “I’d like a table over by the window.”
“Sure,” he said. “Sit anywhere you want.”
A minute after she was seated, a waitress came over carrying a menu. “Can I start you with coffee, honey?”
“Absolutely.”
Kerry opened the folder that contained the pictures she had printed.
When the waitress returned with the coffee, Aline said, “Obviously you work on Saturdays. Were you working on Saturday, August 25, in the morning?”
The waitress considered. “Let me see. That was three weeks ago. Yes, I was back from vacation. I worked that Saturday.”
“My sister ate here that Saturday morning. She met somebody for breakfast. I’m trying to find out who she met. Would you mind looking at some pictures?”
“Sure,” she said.
Aline spread several pictures on the table. “That girl,” the waitress said, “looks real familiar. I know I’ve seen her.” She was pointing at Kerry.
“That’s my sister,” Aline said.
“Oh my God,” the waitress gasped. “Is she the poor girl who got murdered in the pool?”
“I’m afraid so,” Aline said quietly.
“I waited on them that day. They sat at the same table you’re sittin’ at right now.”
The waitress leaned over and stared at one picture after another. She then studied the photo of the lacrosse team and pointed her finger. “That’s her. That’s the one who was crying.”
She was pointing at Valerie.
70
Marge was surprised when the phone rang as she was clearing the breakfast dishes. It was Gus Schreiber, Jamie’s manager at Acme.
Puzzled as to why he was calling, she immediately said, “Oh, Mr. Schreiber, you have been so nice to Jamie. He loves working for you. I don’t know what he would do if he didn’t have his job at the Acme.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Schreiber said, “Mrs. Chapman, that’s why I’m calling you. At Acme customers are our top priority. A number of them have come to me and expressed their concern about Jamie working in our store under the present circumstances. I hope you’ll understand what I mean.”
“No, I don’t understand. Please explain to me what you mean.”
“Mrs. Chapman, after what happened to Kerry Dowling, when Jamie is in the store, people are understandably nervous.”
“Tell them they should worry about your other employee, that blabbermouth Tony Carter,” Marge said fiercely. “You know damn well Jamie has always been a wonderful employee. That hasn’t changed in the two years he’s been with you. Now you want to fire him for no good reason. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Mrs. Chapman, there are a lot of grocery stores around here where people can shop. I have to listen to the concerns of our customers.”
“Even if it means being completely unfair to a very loyal employee. As soon as I get off the phone, I’m going to cut my Acme card in half. And let me tell you right now, Jamie has a very good lawyer, and he’s going to hear about this conversation!” She slammed down the phone.
Marge could hear Jamie’s footsteps as he descended the stairs. He came down dressed for work. “Mom, I’m going now. I’ll see you later.”
“Hold on, Jamie. I have to talk to you. Sit down. Please.”
“Mom, I don’t want to be late. I punch in at work.”
Marge scrambled to find the right words. “Jamie, sometimes businesses like Acme don’t have enough customers. When that happens, they have to tell some of the workers that they can’t keep working there.”
“Does that mean they’re going to fire some of my friends?”
“Yes, it does Jamie. Not just some of your friends. You can’t work there anymore either.”
“I can’t work there? But Mr. Schreiber said I’m one of his best workers.”
“I know he did, and he’s very sorry,” Marge said with a grimace.
Jamie turned around and started toward the stairs. When he neared the top, Marge heard him burst into tears.
71
Mike was in his condo late Saturday morning after he had run some errands. He did not relish the drive he would make to New Brunswick later this evening, but it was the only time the witnesses in another case could meet with him.
He knew it was unprofessional for him to set up a meeting with Aline simply because he wanted to see her. He recalled one of his mother’s favorite quotes: “The heart has reasons of which reason knows nothing.” He remembered that ever since he was a child, his mother would say that if two unlikely people got together.
The night before, he had been out to dinner with a woman he had dated casually, but regularly, while they were in law school. She was attractive and smart. He had enjoyed her company. But she had never given him the feeling he experienced when he was with Aline.
He reminded himself that his job was to investigate the murder of a young woman. His interaction with the victim’s family, including her sister, should be no more than what was necessary to pursue the case.
Despite that, Aline Dowling was very much in his thoughts. He found himself trying to think of reasons related to the case that would make it appropriate for him to call her and suggest that they meet.
Her image was always in his mind. Her hazel eyes, large with long lashes that framed them, sometimes seemed to reflect the color she was wearing. The first time they were out, she had on a violet blue jacket with matching slacks that showed the elegance of her body and carriage. Sometimes she wore her hair loose around her shoulders. That was when her resemblance to Kerry was unmistakable. Other times her hair was caught up at the back of her head. Mike found himself trying to decide which way he liked it best.
She had told him about her fiancé being killed by an intoxicated driver four years ago. He had the sense that there was no one in her life right now. Her heartfelt defense of Jamie Chapman showed her absolute loyalty to someone who was an active suspect in her sister’s murder. In her talks with Kerry’s friends she was constantly trying to find any clue that might help the investigation find answers.
Besides her reaction to the growing suspicions about Jamie Chapman, it was also clear to him that even though Alan Crowley was under arrest, Aline was not convinced that he was the killer. Whoever murdered Kerry had dealt her a vicious blow to the back of her head. If it was not Jamie or Alan, it meant that a third party who could do that to an eighteen-year-old girl would stop at nothing to escape detection. He knew that Aline was deeply concerned about a student who had been very close to Kerry and was now depressed. Aline had been careful to avoid referring to her by name, so Mike realized she would probably not say much about her to him.
His cell phone rang, and he saw the name on the screen. He grabbed it and said, “Hello Aline.”
“Mike, weeks ago you asked me to keep thinking about what Kerry was referring to when she texted that she had something very important to talk to me about. I might have made some progress.”
“What is it, Aline?” Mike asked quickly.
“Kerry sent that text at 11:02 A.M. I saw on her credit card bill that she went to a diner that morning and met someone for breakfast. The waitress remembered Kerry clearly and said the girl she was with had been crying. I brought pictures of Kerry’s friends. She immediately identified who was at the breakfast with Kerry.”