Read Online The Mystery Megapack by Marcia Talley - Free Book Online
Authors: Marcia Talley
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room. Aunt Natalie settled in front of the TV—a huge monstrosity housed in a cabinet, bought with pride in 1968—to watch “her story,” her feet propped on a vinyl hassock, a bottle of Iron City on the TV tray beside the chair.
Time to get to work.
“I’ll just make a couple of phone calls while you enjoy your show, Aunty.” She had to raise her voice above the toilet paper commercial, blaring at rock concert volume.
Eyes already glued to the set, Aunt Natalie waved a careless hand in acknowledgement.
She opened the hall closet. The phone book—so meager, compared to the ones she was used to now—sat on the shelf. She pulled it out and took it, along with her cell phone, to the front porch. The big glider squeaked softly when she sat. She flipped open the phone book and slid her finger down the cheap paper, finally stopping on a name.
Still here. Still in the same house, his parents’ house.
Would she recognize him after all these years? Stupid question; of course she would. She’d know him even if she turned into Helen Keller and had to run her fingers over his face.
Disgusting thought.
She knew where he’d be after work. All she needed to find out was which shift, and that should be easy enough.
It only took a moment to look up another number, pick up her phone, and dial.
“Mary Beth? Hi, it’s me. Long time, no see, I know. Well, I’m in town visiting my aunt, and she’s in the middle of soap opera heaven. I wondered if I could come over and catch up. Find out what the old gang is up to.”
Her lips stretched into a smile and she pushed back her hair.
“Great. Let me grab my purse. See you in a few minutes.”
* * * *
“Who’s that?”
Frowning, she had stared at the guy standing across the school parking lot. He leaned against the hood of a white Camaro, his crossed arms almost obscuring the Steelers’ logo on his shirt. A chill breeze tossed strands of long brown hair around his face and stirred the thick layer of leaves on the pavement.
Mary Beth pitched her books into the back seat of the green-and-rust colored Gremlin and turned, looking out over the sea of students leaving the building. “Who?”
“Over there, next to Jimmy’s car. Brown hair, black shirt.”
“Him?” Mary Beth squinted, too vain to wear her glasses outside. Johnny Kachmarik still hadn’t asked anyone to Homecoming, and she wanted to be prepared, just in case. “I don’t remember his name, but he graduated six years ago with Bill. Why?”
With a shrug, she shifted her books to her other arm. “I recognize him from somewhere.”
She knew where. She’d never forget that face, that car.
“Oh, yeah?” Sliding into the driver’s seat, Mary Beth buckled her seat belt. “Are you coming, or what?”
She pulled her gaze from him and opened the door. “Ask Bill who he is, okay?”
“He looks like a real loser, but sure.”
* * * *
“I saw the car!” Her voice had caught, and a large hand had pressed on her shoulder, gently pushing her back into the bed. Every part of her body hurt, and she blinked away tears. Tears were for babies; she was eleven, a big girl. She knew what she’d seen.
“Sure, honey.” The hand lifted, and the big policeman picked up the pink plastic cup with the straw and held it to her lips. “Can you describe it?”
She took a sip of water, flat and metallic on her tongue. “White.” She closed her eyes, but the image stood out clear against the blackness. “With a big hood and wheels.”
“And did you see the driver?”
She nodded once, even though her head ached. “A man. With brown hair.”
“Okay, okay. You get some rest now.”
His footsteps sounded loud on the linoleum as he crossed the room.
“Will that help find the car and driver?” Her mom’s voice, a harsh whisper. When they’d wheeled her out of the ambulance and into the hospital, she saw them, her mom and her dad. Her mom had cried, big, fat drops rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her
Time to get to work.
“I’ll just make a couple of phone calls while you enjoy your show, Aunty.” She had to raise her voice above the toilet paper commercial, blaring at rock concert volume.
Eyes already glued to the set, Aunt Natalie waved a careless hand in acknowledgement.
She opened the hall closet. The phone book—so meager, compared to the ones she was used to now—sat on the shelf. She pulled it out and took it, along with her cell phone, to the front porch. The big glider squeaked softly when she sat. She flipped open the phone book and slid her finger down the cheap paper, finally stopping on a name.
Still here. Still in the same house, his parents’ house.
Would she recognize him after all these years? Stupid question; of course she would. She’d know him even if she turned into Helen Keller and had to run her fingers over his face.
Disgusting thought.
She knew where he’d be after work. All she needed to find out was which shift, and that should be easy enough.
It only took a moment to look up another number, pick up her phone, and dial.
“Mary Beth? Hi, it’s me. Long time, no see, I know. Well, I’m in town visiting my aunt, and she’s in the middle of soap opera heaven. I wondered if I could come over and catch up. Find out what the old gang is up to.”
Her lips stretched into a smile and she pushed back her hair.
“Great. Let me grab my purse. See you in a few minutes.”
* * * *
“Who’s that?”
Frowning, she had stared at the guy standing across the school parking lot. He leaned against the hood of a white Camaro, his crossed arms almost obscuring the Steelers’ logo on his shirt. A chill breeze tossed strands of long brown hair around his face and stirred the thick layer of leaves on the pavement.
Mary Beth pitched her books into the back seat of the green-and-rust colored Gremlin and turned, looking out over the sea of students leaving the building. “Who?”
“Over there, next to Jimmy’s car. Brown hair, black shirt.”
“Him?” Mary Beth squinted, too vain to wear her glasses outside. Johnny Kachmarik still hadn’t asked anyone to Homecoming, and she wanted to be prepared, just in case. “I don’t remember his name, but he graduated six years ago with Bill. Why?”
With a shrug, she shifted her books to her other arm. “I recognize him from somewhere.”
She knew where. She’d never forget that face, that car.
“Oh, yeah?” Sliding into the driver’s seat, Mary Beth buckled her seat belt. “Are you coming, or what?”
She pulled her gaze from him and opened the door. “Ask Bill who he is, okay?”
“He looks like a real loser, but sure.”
* * * *
“I saw the car!” Her voice had caught, and a large hand had pressed on her shoulder, gently pushing her back into the bed. Every part of her body hurt, and she blinked away tears. Tears were for babies; she was eleven, a big girl. She knew what she’d seen.
“Sure, honey.” The hand lifted, and the big policeman picked up the pink plastic cup with the straw and held it to her lips. “Can you describe it?”
She took a sip of water, flat and metallic on her tongue. “White.” She closed her eyes, but the image stood out clear against the blackness. “With a big hood and wheels.”
“And did you see the driver?”
She nodded once, even though her head ached. “A man. With brown hair.”
“Okay, okay. You get some rest now.”
His footsteps sounded loud on the linoleum as he crossed the room.
“Will that help find the car and driver?” Her mom’s voice, a harsh whisper. When they’d wheeled her out of the ambulance and into the hospital, she saw them, her mom and her dad. Her mom had cried, big, fat drops rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her
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