Day of the Dead Read online

  The Newsome Apartments building was a reddish-brown brick and had seen better days. It was three stories high and included over forty apartments. Most had two bedrooms, but there were a few single-bedroom units as well. Marlee wasn’t sure what floor Logan lived on, or if he had a one- or two-bedroom apartment. When Marlee was a probation officer she had found that the best way to find out information about people was to ask their neighbors. Frequently, people were more than willing to provide information about those who lived near them. Older people and others who were at home during the day were prime sources of information. They had time on their hands and were likely bored and looking for some excitement. Marlee’s elderly neighbor who lived to the north side of her house was brimming with information about the comings and goings of the other neighbors. Herman had apparently figured out her schedule, to some degree, as she often found him waiting in his back yard when she arrived home from campus. He was always ready to volunteer everything he’d seen and heard that day. Because of Herman, Marlee learned that one of her neighbors was having an affair and another had an online shopping addiction. Both female neighbors tended to their proclivities during the afternoon hours while their husbands weren’t home.

  When Marlee arrived at the front entrance to the apartment, she was glad to see that it did not have a security door. This meant that anyone who chose to could enter the building at any time of day or night. While this was good for Marlee’s fact-finding operation, it was a concern from a safety perspective. The locked mailboxes were just inside the front entrance and some were marked with full names, some with just first initials and last names. Other mailboxes were not labeled at all, either because the apartment was vacant or the tenant hadn’t labeled it. Unfortunately, neither Logan’s name nor his initials were on any of the mailboxes. She would have to go old school in locating his apartment.

  Marlee decided to start with the first level. Faded green carpeting covered the floors of the entrance and the hallways. The walls were painted a light color, which had yellowed with age. She meandered down the hall, looking at the names and door hangings on the doors. There was nothing to pinpoint Logan’s apartment on the first floor, so she climbed the back stairs to the second floor. She caught her shoe on a tear in the carpet on the rear stairway and stumbled, breaking her fall against the wall. That was a lawsuit waiting to happen if it didn’t get fixed soon. Continuing her quest to find Logan’s apartment, she heard the creaking of a door behind her. Marlee turned to see an elderly woman in a flowered house dress peering out with caution. She quickly smiled at the old woman and the smile was returned with a quick slamming of the door. Marlee made note of the woman’s apartment number just in case she needed to knock on the door later for information. Given the old lady’s initial behavior, Marlee wasn’t expecting much cooperation from her. Having no luck identifying Logan’s apartment on the second floor, she climbed to the third floor and had the same result.

  Even though it was not her first choice, Marlee decided to knock on the door of the old woman who had peeked out at her and then slammed the door. She rapped on the door with her knuckles and the door immediately opened. The woman had been standing at the door, probably peering out the peep hole the whole time. Marlee smiled brightly, introduced herself to the woman and indicated that she had worked with Logan LeCroix at MSU before his death. The old woman responded with a shy smile and motioned for Marlee to enter her apartment. The overwhelming smell of animals hit her hard as she entered the unit. In the corner hung an empty bird cage. As she entered the apartment, three small Pomeranian dogs bounded up to greet her. The apartment furnishings were straight out of the 1970s. The furniture, a couch that sagged in the middle and a matching orange flowered chair, was clustered in the center of the room. Two wooden end tables flanked the couch, and each held a large table lamp with plastic covering the shades. The carpet was variegated green shag while the refrigerator and stove were a coordinating olive green.

  “I’m Rose, and I knew Logan. He just lived across the hall from me in 4B,” said the elderly woman. “I met him on the first day he moved in. After that, he would come over from time to time. He brought me cookies once, and another time he helped me carry some trash out to the dumpster. Logan was a sweet boy.” Rose looked down, and Marlee thought for a second that she might start crying. She pulled a tissue from the sleeve of her house dress and proceeded to dab at her damp eyes. Then she got up from the arm chair and bustled to the kitchen. She insisted on serving Marlee a snack even though she was still bursting from her enormous lunch. A few minutes later, Rose returned with two cups of instant coffee, that she had heated up in the microwave, and slices of banana bread, which had been defrosted in the microwave.

  Marlee took a bite of the stale banana bread, which had been frozen after it had already gone bad. She tried to swallow it but it stuck in her throat like a lump of cement. She reached for the coffee cup and took a sip. The coffee was strong enough to peel paint off a house, but it did help to dislodge the banana bread from her throat. “Rose, I suppose you heard that the chief of police ruled Logan’s death a suicide,” said Marlee, taking another nibble of the banana bread in an effort not to be rude.

  Rose nodded. “I had a nephew who killed himself with pills a few years back. We all knew he was crazy. I thought it was just a matter of time before he hurt himself or someone else. When my brother called to tell me the news, I was shocked but not surprised. I knew something bad was going to happen with Ricky; I just didn’t know what or when. I never had that feeling about Logan at all. He seemed to have his life together.”

  “Do you have any idea of who might have wanted him dead?” asked Marlee, as a small parakeet flew by her head and landed on the arm of the chair where Rose sat.

  “I know he was a gay and some people don’t like the gays,” Rose replied. She used her index finger to gently pat the parakeet’s head.

  “Do you know anyone specifically who might have wanted to hurt Logan because he was gay?” Marlee inquired.

  “No, I don’t know anyone who wanted to hurt him. There’s a guy up on the third floor who used to give Logan a bad time about being gay. He thought he was being funny, but I know it really hurt Logan’s feelings. I don’t think Al, that’s his name, Al Haskell, would have actually hit him or tried to kill him, but I guess you never know,” Rose responded.

  “You don’t think Al’s a violent type?” asked Marlee.

  “He’s a loud-mouth, especially when he’s drinking with his buddies, but I don’t think he’d hurt anyone when he was sober and by himself. Who knows what he’d be capable of when he’s drunk and with those other idiots he hangs out with. They are always making a lot of noise in the hallways and out in the parking lot,” Rose reported.

  “Did you hear Al or his friends make anti-gay comments to Logan?” Marlee questioned.

  “No, I never heard anything personally, but Logan told me about it when he came to visit one evening. I don’t think he was scared of Al and his friends, but his feelings were hurt,” said Rose.

  “That’s completely understandable,” said Marlee. “It must have been difficult enough being in a new town, then to be tormented for being a homosexual.”

  Rose nodded in agreement. She had a fondness for Logan and it was clear she missed him. “Rose, how long have you lived here?” asked Marlee.

  “Since my husband died in 1975, so I guess it’s been almost thirty years,” she replied. “It doesn’t seem that long, but I guess it is. I used to be a book keeper and retired in 1994 when I turned 70. I don’t have any children, so it gets a bit lonely here for me. Logan was so nice and kind, and I sort of felt like he was my son. I miss him so much already.” Rose dabbed the corners of eyes again with a tissue.

  “Did you ever see anyone come to visit Logan at his apartment?” Marlee asked.

  “He had some deliveries from UPS, and one time a scary-looking kid came to his door. I don’t like to be nosy, but the kid was making a lot of noise and Logan was tryin
g to quiet him down. They talked for a minute or so at the door, but the kid didn’t go inside. Logan never talked about it and I didn’t ask,” Rose said. She looked a bit sheepish to have just admitted that she spied on her neighbors.

  “Oh, I totally get it,” said Marlee. “If there were a commotion outside my apartment, I’d be looking out to see what was going on too.” She didn’t want Rose to clam up out of embarrassment or in an attempt to save face. By admitting she would have done the same thing, Marlee hoped to put Rose at ease. Rose smiled and nodded.

  “There was a tall, slim guy who came to visit him once around the beginning of October, and I think he may have stayed with Logan for a few days, because I saw him walking out the front entrance a couple days later wearing the same clothes I saw him in when he came to Logan’s apartment a few days earlier. Logan never mentioned having guests, and I didn’t want him to think I was spying on him,” said Rose.

  “Can you describe the guy?” asked Marlee. As Rose launched into a detailed description of the man and his clothing, Marlee began to suspect it was Logan’s partner Joe, or someone who looked a lot like him. She found this very curious. She’d been under the assumption that Joe had never been to Elmwood before. Had Joe told her this was his first trip to Elmwood? Marlee couldn’t recall, but she knew for sure that he never once mentioned coming to visit Logan since he had moved there in August.

  Marlee thanked Rose for her time and the heartburn-inducing refreshments. She also exchanged telephone numbers with Rose and encouraged her to call if she recalled anything else about Logan or anyone who might have visited him. Rose beamed as she wrote down her phone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to Marlee. This was the most excitement she’d had in a long time. As Marlee was leaving the apartment she noticed the window behind the couch where she was sitting. It was cloaked in dark multi-colored curtains held back by burgundy ropes. She walked toward the window and peered out. Rose had a perfect view of the parking lot. This was likely where she learned a lot about Logan, in addition to spying on him through the peep hole.

  As Marlee left the apartment building, she realized she needed to talk to Joe again to question him about visiting Logan in early October. She hoped he hadn’t already left to go back to California. This was not a conversation she wanted to have over the telephone. She needed to look Joe in the eye and read his body language when she questioned him. It was the middle of the semester and there was no way she would be able to take time to fly to California to talk to Joe in person, so her only hope was to speak with him before he left town. He clearly had more information than he had previously provided, and Marlee aimed to find out what it was.

  My family was made up of more than those who shared my blood. My true family loved and supported me unconditionally. Family is made up of those you choose to surround you.

  Chapter 21

  It was late afternoon, and Marlee was exhausted, both from the enormous lunch and from the amount of information that had come her way that day. She replayed her conversation with her students, Rose from Logan’s apartment building and with Stella DeVry, trying to think of additional questions for each person. Her mind was a bit foggy and she was feeling overwhelmed by all the information. When she returned home, she pulled out the notebook containing her notes on Logan’s death and recorded what she had learned earlier that day, and the questions that were still unanswered.

  As far as Marlee knew, Joe Tisdale was still at the Ramkota Hotel. She called the hotel desk’s main line and asked to be connected to Joe’s room. She was put on hold while they contacted his room and Marlee’s spirits soared. That meant he was still in town. On the second ring, Joe answered the phone. After exchanging pleasantries, Marlee asked Joe if he would like to meet for supper that night. He readily agreed, anxious to get out of his hotel room and have a conversation with someone, even if it was a person he didn’t know very well.

  Marlee stretched out on her couch and covered herself with a fleece blanket made by one of her friends. It was patterned with a variety of cartoon cats in humorous poses. As soon as she settled in for a short nap, Pippa jumped on the couch, looking for some attention. Padding her way from the foot of the couch to the pillow where Marlee rested her head, Pippa meowed repeatedly with each meow growing louder and more desperate. She petted Pippa and scratched behind her ears for a few minutes until she settled down on Marlee’s stomach and went to sleep.

  A loud beeping noise jolted Marlee awake, and Pippa rocketed off the couch. At first she thought it was the smoke detector, but soon realized it was the alarm she had set before taking her nap. Marlee had wrestled with insomnia since her mid-twenties. It often took her a long time to fall asleep, even for naps, but then she would sleep deeply for hours. She had learned long ago that naps required a wake-up time or she would miss out on anything else planned for the day. Marlee ran to her bedroom with Pippa underfoot the whole way. She turned off the alarm and noted that the time was 5:00 p.m. That gave her an hour and a half to wake up and get ready to meet Joe for supper.

  After a quick shower and clean clothes, Marlee felt fully restored. She brushed on a layer of brown-black mascara and added a little brown eye liner. Then she pulled out a tube of clear mascara and applied a layer to her eyebrows. She didn’t want to look like her maternal grandfather or any of his brothers, as they were widely known for their overgrown, out-of-control eyebrows. She dotted concealer on her blemishes and blended it in to match her naturally light skin tone. It puzzled her how she could have acne and wrinkles at the same time, but she knew she wasn’t alone based on the conversations she’d had with several of her female friends in the same age bracket. It just wasn’t fair. The final touch was a coat of Burt’s Bees tinted lip balm. This was pretty much her usual regimen. With each passing year, she subtracted one or two steps from her beauty ritual.

  Joe was waiting in the lobby of his hotel when Marlee arrived. She suggested picking him up and he had readily agreed. Elmwood was not a large town by any stretch of the imagination, but Marlee thought Joe might be getting tired of constantly asking for directions and trying to navigate his way when he had so much on his mind right now. He was wearing dark blue Dockers, a pale blue Oxford shirt underneath a navy print cardigan. He wore the same hiking boots and coat that Marlee had seen him in a few days earlier at the Chit Chat.

  Joe hopped in Marlee’s vehicle, and they sped off to a small restaurant a few miles outside of town. The Dockside was located on the western bank of Richmond Lake. Summer was the busy time for the restaurant due to tourists and local boaters, but The Dockside remained open through Christmas to accommodate hunters and those wanting to hold holiday parties at the establishment. In the summer, Marlee liked sitting out on the deck overlooking the river. That would not be an option today, since it was only 25 degrees and had been dark for nearly an hour, thanks to the recent Daylight Saving Time change. On week-day nights in the fall the main dining room was closed, but there was ample seating in the bar. The Dockside featured a variety of food choices, from standards like steak, chicken and pasta to local favorites like walleye, venison and pheasant. She chose this restaurant so that Joe would have a chance to try some of the local fare, if he chose or he could fall back on dishes he was familiar with, if he didn’t feel like experimenting with something new.

  They were seated at a table in a corner of the bar, away from the rest of the crowd. The hostess must have assumed they were a couple out on a date, or perhaps a married couple getting away from the kids for a few hours. Marlee appreciated the hostess’s consideration, since she didn’t want everyone in the restaurant to be privy to their conversation. The waitress, a weary looking woman in her late forties with wisps of black hair falling out of her pony tail, brought them menus and glasses of water. They considered the menu, and Marlee answered a few of Joe’s questions about the food options. When the server returned to the table, Marlee ordered her favorite dishes that The Dockside offered: grilled walleye and sweet potato fries. Joe was up for a
culinary adventure and requested the smothered pheasant. Not only did Marlee not find the dish appetizing, but the name did not whet her appetite either. She suspected it was pheasant cooked in a crock pot with cream of mushroom soup and served with a side of potatoes. She hoped Joe would not be disappointed with his choice.

  The two chatted comfortably while they waited for their meals to arrive. Both ordered a small dinner salad and those arrived within minutes. Marlee decided not to apologize for the questions she had asked during their previous meeting, since it might just dredge up bad feelings. Joe seemed relaxed and ready to talk and she did not want to ruin it. He brought up the issue of the police department’s finding of suicide in Logan’s death.

  “I just can’t believe it,” Joe said with a grimace. “Suicide is out of the question. Plus, the evidence just doesn’t measure up!”

  “I know. I think everybody was upset to hear that ruling from Chief Langdon. How did you hear about it?” asked Marlee, realizing for the first time that Joe was not at the meeting earlier that day.