Chapter Four
Alonza Chaves couldn’t sleep. All through the night, she kept fighting with her pillows, and never finding any position that allowed more than an hour of sleep. She looked at her bedside clock and it said 4:52. Even though this was Saturday, she realized that it was going to be a tough one, and she might as well face the day. Oh, why did I agreed to speak at the funeral mass for Amanda? Surely there were others more gifted with language who could say what needed to be said, and I could just be there. But she couldn’t say no to Sister Justine.
So, she got up, went out to the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, then went out to her stoop and picked up the paper. While she was out, she noticed the soft breeze and immediately noted the subtle, unmistakable aroma of the forest. Oh, no! What now? Who is it this time? With a slight shiver, she closed the door and took the paper in and opened it. There was nothing on the front page of any note. Then the paper stuck slightly as she opened it, and there on the third page was a small item, which she would have typically glossed over, but today it struck her as particularly noteworthy. The item was under police doings, and the headline read:
Accused child killer escapes, at large
But what really caught her attention was below the headline:
Formerly having served time for child abuse and endangerment,
Albert LeGace, who was awaiting his trial for killing his stepdaughter,
Francine Swinney, escaped from the county jail yesterday, and is
felt to be armed and dangerous. More details were not available
at this time.
Below the brief statement was his mug shot, which to Lonnie looked quite remarkable for the look of total lack of any expression other than contempt. She shivered again, then closed the paper. What stuck in her mind, though, was the name, Albert LeGace.
I’ll have to call Chris Lewinsky, see if she knows anything about this. But why does this bother me? Was it something Chris said, or Charlie? Then it hit her – Amanda had mentioned the name Francine!
She got up and poured herself some coffee, in her favorite mug, the blue one with her name on it, spelled Lonni, given to her by her niece last year. Her niece’s name was Sadie, and she had been with Lonnie at the arts and crafts festival at the river. Sadie knew she was going to be going to moving away at the end of summer, going with her parents to Oklahoma, and she wanted to get something for her favorite aunt. She had been given ten dollars by her parents, to spend on anything she wanted, and this was what she wanted. And Lonnie had treasured the gift, as her sister’s family moved, seemingly a long way away, and it brought her comfort. She thought about Sadie, six years old at the time. Abruptly, thoughts of Francine, Albert LeGace, Amanda and Chris Lewinsky entered her mind, and would not let go. She looked at the time, noting it was only 5:20, but decided she had to call Chris anyway.
She found her purse and rifled through it, finding an old card which Chris had given her. She looked at the card, and saw, written in ink, the note: Call me anytime – Chris. She looked the card over and found Chris’s home phone number and called it. After three rings, a rather sleepy voice answered.
“Oh, Chris, it’s Lonnie Chaves. I’m so sorry to wake you… Well, it’s just that… Do you get the morning paper? Well there’s a small blurb on there on page three... Why sure, why don’t you do that and call me right back. My phone number is 687-4599.”
Lonnie felt quite foolish for waking Chris up. She waited for Chris to get the paper and get back on the line. All the time chiding herself for making the phone call. The phone rang and she answered right away.
“Hello… You do know something of the case? Did you know about his escaping? … Well I’m not worried exactly, but there are fingers pointing to Shepperton… Yes, that would be good. You do know, don’t you, that Amanda’s funeral is at 10 o’clock…I think you’re right… Well, Okay, I’ll see you at 7:30 at your office. Bye, now.”
Lonnie had never set foot in the Fourth Precinct Station before, and she tried to think of the last time she actually had business in any police station. It was years before and walking into this Police Station definitely gave her the heebie-jeebies. There was something about the concrete construction, the cold tile floors and the all business and no-fun feel of the place, which put her immediately on the defensive. She walked up to what she assumed to be the reception desk and asked the woman behind the bullet-proof glass partition if she could see detective Christine Lewinsky – she had an appointment with her at 7:30. The woman stared at her for a second, which made her turmoil worse, and then said that she would check to see if the detective was in.
The lady behind the glass disappeared for the better part of three minutes. Then, as Lonnie was thinking about going on her way, Chris appeared in the door to her right, smiled, and waved Lonnie in.
Lonnie let out a relieved sigh, and said to Christine, “Oh, thank heavens. I was about to bolt. Your office and the bulldog at the reception desk really gave me the willies. I wasn’t sure where to sign to get a lighter sentence, or at least time off for good behavior.”
“Oh, Lonnie, you got Gloria on one of her good days! Believe me, if it weren’t for her seniority, she’d be down in the dungeon, filing papers from 9 to 5. Just come on back with me. Would you like some coffee? I can’t say whether it’s any good, but it’s what we live on here.”
“Let me think about that for a while, Okay?”
Chris smiled knowingly, and said, “sure.” Then she led Lonnie back to her office, which was small and cluttered, but at least not as overtly depressing as the rest of the place. Chris stepped behind her desk, and Lonnie took one of the chairs facing the desk.
“Well, Lonnie, let me say a couple of things to begin. Firstly, I do appreciate you calling me. I know the hour was early, and your phone call did wake me, but I really did mean it when I said to call me anytime. And secondly, I was definitely planning on being at Amanda’s funeral (I assume it’s at Saint Gregory’s). Also, if it’s Okay with you, I’d like to record this – it’s so much better than me just taking notes.”
“Yeah, I have no problem with that, other than the fact that being recorded might contribute to my nervousness. I’ll just try to forget that it’s on. And you’re right, the funeral’s at Saint Gregory’s.”
Chris took out a tape and put it in her recorder, and she stated the date and time of the recording, and identified the person being recorded as well as herself. Chris then reached over to the right side of the desk, and took up the paper in her hands, and opened it. Showing it to Lonnie, Chris went on to say, “Now this is the paper we’re talking about and the article, right? It’s this morning’s paper.”
Lonnie took one look, felt the same revulsion, and said, “Yeah, that’s the same paper I got, and that’s the little article and picture all right.”
Next, Chris went on, “Well, then tell me what you know of this case and this particular man.”
Lonnie closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, then sighed. “Well, let’s see. It all goes back three years or so. It was back then, with Amanda, whom I would see in the course of her chemotherapy treatments – she would mention the name Francine occasionally, and then one day, about a year ago, she said that Francine was gone. She had asked the sisters, but they did not tell her what had happened. This upset Amanda – so much so that she was in tears, and was thoroughly convinced that Francine had died, and probably in a horrible way. It upset me, too, but I didn’t see anything in the paper, and I watched for any news. Over the next month or so, I saw nothing, and told her. She remained her usual self, just not as cheerful. And one day, several weeks after that, she said that she knew who did it, and how. She didn’t say how she knew, only that she knew, and it was Francine’s stepfather who did it.
“I told her that I really didn’t want to know any more, but she could talk to the police if she really felt she knew. But she said it wouldn’t do any good – the police would find out anyway.”
“Did she mention the name of Francine’s stepfather?” Chris asked.
“Yes. She said it was Albert LeGace. And I didn’t think much about that until all this Shepperton stuff started happening. Then that name came roaring back. I believe it was the earl who first mentioned him, but he described someone named Antoine LeGace, and said that he was a man most evil in his time and place. Now, I know that this seems like quite a stretch, but there are just too many coincidences for me to swallow. First there’s the name – LeGace. It’s a very unusual name, and to be associated with so much evil. And then there’s Amanda, and her connection with Shepperton, and knowledge of it, and the people she touched – from Francine to Janie to Charlie and me.
“And lastly, there’s that note that we got at dinner from Antoine LeGace. Now I didn’t touch it, but you did. And by your own description, could there be anything more vile than that little note? If there’s one thing I’m certain of it’s that note represents pure evil. Evil of such depth that it makes my skin crawl, and it was not even addressed to me. The earl has it in his possession, but put away, and hard to get to.”
“Yes, I would grant you that.” Chris answered carefully, “It was evil, indeed, even before he read to us what was on the letter, I could tell. And you’re right, it could become important to us later on. I think I’ll pay the earl a visit and see if he would part with the letter. See what fingerprint analysis might reveal at the very least.”
“Boy, that seems like a long shot!”
“Yeah, but you never know. I’m going to proceed like the fifteenth century doesn’t even play into any of this. After all, it’s all I’ve got. I know nothing of the fifteenth century, but I do know the twentieth century, and how to be a twentieth century detective. And that brings me back to today. Have you heard anything at all from your missing friend, Charlie?”
“Ah, no – nothing. Not a peep from him. Nor would I expect to. I mean he’s just vanished, and since people in the twentieth century don’t just disappear, I guess you’ve still got a missing person to deal with. But that’s now four persons who have disappeared on your watch, huh?”
“That’s right. Four persons who have died, and four who are still missing.”
Lonnie thought about it, and then said, “I would add two more to your dead column – Josh, who seemed to begin this whole scheme, along with the mysterious Carlo Vincente, who provided the drachma, as well as the mystery.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Chris nodded. “It only makes sense if you include those two.”
“Plus, you’ve got to add the earl. For his arrival was as inexplicable as the disappearance of the others.” Lonnie was silent for a moment, then added, “If you add in the “transients” things get even thicker – with Maggie, Tom, Falma, Drachma and Antoine LeGace. But I don’t know what you’re going to have to put in your reports.”
“You want to write them for me?” Chris asked rhetorically.
“No, but since the earl, Carol and I are presently the only other people here who have the whole picture, I would offer my assistance, as limited as it is.”
“That would be great, Lonnie. And I guess I’ll see you at the funeral…”
“Yeah, I’ll be sitting up front with Carol and the earl.”
Chris turned off the tape recorder. And then she said, “Off the record, do you think that Albert LeGace is involved in all this?”
“Oh, yes, I do! How could he not be?”
“I suppose you’re right, but I’m not ready to put that into a report – at least not yet.”
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