“OH YES! Please do.” She was buying it.
She stepped to the side still cringing at his words and looking around her feet. She had completely forgotten about working out or even checking his credentials.
She closed the door behind them.
She didn’t have time to react. The Reaper made his move. He dropped the clipboard of fliers and grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her tight so she couldn’t move. In one swift motion, he pulled the ball peen hammer from his tool belt and hit her hard in the top of her head and released her motionless body to collapse to the floor. She was dead.
He picked up his clip board and strode out the front door, got in his truck and drove away. Piece of cake. When he had reached US Hwy 82, he drove east. He removed the mustache, beard, and wig he was wearing and placed them in a bag next to him on the seat. Without his disguise, he was quite handsome and fair to look upon. He pulled out his new disposable phone and sent a text message.
* * *
Charlotte always hugged her mom before she went to work. Today was different. She wanted to do so much more, but she managed to keep things natural. She kissed her on the cheek.
Jimmie Earl was reading the morning paper.
“Folks done lost they minds these days,” he said. He sipped his coffee.
Ruthie placed Jimmie’s plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes in front of him.
“Why you say that, honey?” Ruthie said, pouring the syrup on his pancakes.
He pointed to the paper.
“This killin’ that happened in town last night to that white lady.”
They both looked at Charlotte.
“You doing this story also?” he asked. He picked up a fork full of eggs and shoved them in his mouth.
She nodded after putting a delicate bite of eggs in her mouth. Her daddy would eat that whole plate of food, while she would just take an egg and maybe a little dry toast with her coffee.
“There really wasn’t much to go on last night, I was waiting for Jared to--” she caught herself and looked at her mother, who had a knowing smile on her face.
“Jared and I are going to have lunch today. Perhaps he may know more by then. Besides, I write exclusively. I am not your run of the mill reporter. I am Charlotte Reed, the Exclusive Crime Columnist.”
Her dad looked at her over his eyeglasses.
“That’s my girl!”
He smiled and finished the last of his pancakes.
“Well, baby, you be careful in that weather now, you hear? Folks drive crazy nowadays too.”
“I will, Daddy”. She kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll walk you out,” said Ruthie.
When they had stepped out on the porch, Charlotte hugged Ruthie tight and kissed her on the cheek.
“I love you, Momma.”
“I love you too, Charlotte.”
They both wiped their eyes.
“Now go tell that man you love him too!”
Charlotte thought about that. “Bye, Mom!”
The heavy traffic quickly released her thoughts from her mother. Cars had come to a standstill on Hwy 69. Charlotte picked up her phone to call her editor.
“Hey, Charles, it looks like I’m going to be late. I think they might have a fender bender on highway 69.”
“Hey, we could use a by-story to print also. See what you can get and I will see when you get here,” he said and hung up.
It was still raining. Hard.
“I’ll get what I can from inside my car,” she said to the silent phone.
Traffic was at snail speed but she was getting close to the amber and blue lights of the emergency vehicles.
It was just as she thought--a small fender bender. Silver Mercedes C-Class had hit an older model Toyota Camry in the rear and the driver saw dollar signs in his eyes. She had seen that man in the Mercedes before, she thought. She wondered if he was a doctor. She noticed that he got in the passenger side of the police car and the officer sped off with lights and siren blasting. She pushed it all to the back of her mind and concentrated on getting to her desk. She had an hour before the press conference.
She finally made it to work and was sitting at her desk. She attempted to clean all the cluttered papers off her desk but heard her name called.
“Charlotte?”
She looked up and saw that it was her editor.
He walked over. His glasses were as thick as two coke bottles pressed together. He wore a bow tie and a sleeveless sweater over a button down shirt. He was Jewish, in his mid-50’s, and had a receding hairline that he tried to cover by combing as many strands from the sides up and over it as humanly possible. Charlotte was used to it. It was his thing.
Charlotte was about to explain why she didn’t have his by-story when he dropped a bombshell on her.
“Charlotte, I sent Jerry Ellis to cover the press conference.”
Charlotte was pissed off at the audacity of Charles taking her off something big and giving it to an amateur.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because, you have a new assignment and here is the address. The Police and all the other news stations are already there. I need you to cover this. It might be connected to the murder last night.”
Charlotte stood up from her desk and grabbed the piece of paper from Charles.
1114 Lakeview Lane was about 10 minutes away across Lake Tuscaloosa. This perked her interest.
“What’s the name of the victim?” she asked.
“Mrs. Nancy Durham,” he said.
A sudden jolt of coldness ran through her.
“She wouldn’t happen to have a husband named Dr Peter Durham would she?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Do you know them?”
She paused before answering.
“He is my mother’s doctor, and I believe he was the driver of a silver Mercedes that was involved in that accident that held me up on highway 69.”
“Records do show that he does drive a Silver Mercedes C-Class.”
Charlotte grabbed her purse and keys and headed quickly to her car.
She rushed to her car without using the umbrella, even though it was still raining pretty hard. She drove out of the parking lot and headed North on highway 69.
She pressed #2 to speed dial Jared’s number and waited for him to pick up.
“Come on Jared, pick up the phone!”
Chapter Four
I told Charlotte I’d meet her at the scene and hung up. I placed my phone on the console. Everybody was rolling on the call to Lakeview Drive. A neighbor had phoned the police after discovering Sheila Durham’s lifeless body. My phone was buzzing. A delayed text message had just come through. Probably the weather had something to do with it, I thought. I raised the phone to eye level, at the same time keeping my focus on the road. Traffic was light but the roads were still wet. I opened the message screen and felt a knot in my stomach.
“1114 Lakeview Drive.” It was signed The Reaper.
The caller ID showed ANONYMOUS as the caller.
I threw the phone on the passenger seat. I was five minutes from there.
I saw the news helicopter hovering in the distance.
When I pulled in, I flashed my credentials to the officer at the crime scene tape and gave him my name for his log. Captain Davis, Burncutt, and Detective Glass were standing at the front door with a white male who was crying profusely.
“Gentleman let’s go inside,” said the captain. “Detective Glass, I need you stay with the husband, Dr. Durham, here.”
“Yes sir,” she replied.
We walked inside. The metallic smell of blood filled the room. The body lay in a clump against the sofa facing the seat cushion with her arms loosely hanging to her sides. It was easy to tell the blood all over her had come from the hole in the top of her head. The Captain pointed to a hammer on the floor that had blood on it.