Whispering Pines

In The Light Of Shadows

Chapter Thirteen

By Mavis Applewater

For disclaimers see part one.

A special thank you goes out to my beta reader Mountain Girl.

As always this is for Heather.

Chapter Thirteen

New York City, 2003

"One more time what is this supposed to do?" Faith inquired as Shawn rubbed her brow.

"For the last time, it is an onyx it helps keep negative energy at bay," Shawn repeated for the lanky brunette. "The other one is an amethyst it helps with inner strength and insight."

"Why isn’t the amethyst as purple as it was at the shop?" Faith pestered the tired blonde shoving the crystals in her pocket.

"Because you are sucking the energy from it," Shawn bluntly informed the reporter as she wondered just why she had asked Faith to go with her to buy crystals. The former reporter was like a small child in the shop, touching everything pestering her with questions and being a nuisance. But Shawn wanted new crystals before the trip to Scotland and Faith hated being alone in the blonde’s apartment. Faith’s discomfort stemmed from Willie the impish ghost who resided with her and took immeasurable pleasure in driving Faith up the wall. When she and Faith had first become a couple the stoic brunette refused to believe that Willie existed but after her first couple of sleep overs she not only believed that Willie was real, but was bound and determined to send him to the other side.

"So what are you saying that even spiritually I’m high maintenance?" Faith groused while Shawn snickered.

"Basically, yes!" Shawn beamed as Faith glared down at her. Shawn released a yelp as Faith snatched her up and tossed her over her shoulder. "Put me down!" She squawked as Faith carried her down the busy sidewalk like a sack of potatoes.

"Not until you apologize," Faith scowled swatting the feisty blonde on her backside and continuing down the street. Oddly enough no one seemed to notice then again this was New York. Spending time with her old flame had been a blessing and a curse. During the day they played, went for long walks, talked for hours on end and really got to know one another. It was great until it was time to retire for the evening. Sleeping in separate bedrooms was becoming a trial for both women. Then there was Willie and no matter how many times Shawn tried to explain to Faith that he was just a little boy, the brunette refused to enjoy his antics.

"I am not going to apologize so you can stop acting like a menace," Shawn squealed as the brunette spun around making her dizzy. "Now!" She screeched as her stomach started to churn.

"Spoil sport," Faith grumbled as she set the blonde down on the stoop of an aging brownstone.

Shawn was laughing as Faith carefully set her down. Shawn turned pale as her body touched the cold stone steps. Darkness loomed over her and the smell of blood assaulted her as she saw the woman being forced down on the stone steps. "No!" She screamed jumping off the steps trying to erase the image of the young woman’s skull splitting open, and a dark figure fleeing in the darkness, climbing the fire escape ducking in the third story window as every light in the building blinked on. She was trembling as she shook her head in an effort to erase the image. Bile rose in her throat even as the daylight and the present returned.

"Shawn?" Faith stammered with concern wrapping her arms around the blonde. "What just happened?"

Shawn was unable to speak grabbing Faith by the hand and dragging her away from the building. They were almost half way back to her apartment when she finally felt safe. "A woman was murdered," Shawn finally managed to choke out. "Just one kiss, that’s what he said as she tried to fight him off. He smiled like cheap bourbon. He was young; I couldn’t see his face because it was dark. I hate this," she sniffed as Faith hugged her.

"When did it happen?" Faith carefully inquired as Shawn tried calm down.

"Uhm, she was wearing a poodle skirt, so I’m thinking the fifties," Shawn supplied as she blew out a terse breath. "They never caught him."

"Are you sure?" Faith softly asked.

"I think so," Shawn sighed as she tried to feel what had happened. "Gone, it’s gone. We could find out."

"Okay? Not my original thought of how to spend the day but I’m game," Faith consented. "You want to start with the Internet?"

"Or we could just call a cop?" Shawn smirked as she extracted her cell phone from her pocket.

"The mysterious Carey?" Faith grumbled as Shawn dialed Carey Jessup’s number. "Let me guess she isn’t on the Massachusetts police force."

"Years ago she was now she is a member of the NYPD," Shawn grunted as she heard her new friend answer her call. "Carey, it is Shawn Williams I need a favor."

"Get a speeding ticket?" Carey quipped.

"No," Shawn smiled in response. "Would it be possible to check out if a woman was murdered in the fifties on the front stoop of 26 Bleecker Street?"

"Do I even want to ask why?" Carey muttered as she jotted down the information.

"Can you check it out?" Shawn pleaded.

"Fine," Carey reluctantly agreed.

"And while you’re at it find out who was living in the apartment facing the alley on the third floor," Shawn pressed as she listened to Carey’s grumbling.

"Anything else?" The detective muttered. "You want me to deliver a pizza while I’m at it?"

"Only if you are going to deliver the information in person," Shawn teased. "Just remember I’m a vegetarian."

"Naturally," Carey groaned before disconnecting the call.

"So, what is it with this Carey chick anyway?" Faith inquired three hours later as she stood to check on the pot of coffee she had brewed. "Turn it off," Faith shouted into the kitchen when the water faucets turned on full blast. Shawn snickered knowing that Willie was at it again. Normally he left Shawn alone, but whenever Faith was around the youngster did everything he could to get her to play with him. "Thank you," Faith bellowed. "Tell me again why this Carey hates me?"

"You can ask her yourself, she’s almost here," Shawn noted thoughtfully as Faith ducked into the kitchen. A half second later there was a knock on her apartment door.

"I hate it when you do that," Faith called out from the kitchen as Shawn smiled pleased with herself as she answered the door.

"Can you do card tricks too?" Carey sneered as she shoved two pizza boxes at the blonde. "You just made my ex-husband very happy. He is the head of the cold case squad and wants to know everything."

"I’ll tell you what I saw if you tell me what you know?" Shawn offered as she guided the detective into her living room. Shawn smiled as she felt Faith entering the room. Her smile vanished, when she was suddenly encompassed by a nervous energy.

"Ah fuck," Carey growled as Shawn turned to find Faith staring at the younger woman.

"Jessica?" Faith gasped as her jaw dropped.

Shawn studied both women and suddenly felt the pieces locking into place. "You’re sisters?" She blurted out while Cary began to grind her teeth. "Now it makes perfect sense," Shawn concluded. "No wonder the two of you are so much alike."

"I am nothing like her," Carey fumed as Shawn shrugged placing the pizzas down on the coffee table.

"Yes, you are," the blonde quietly countered.

"Shawn, let it go, this one I deserve," Faith confessed with a hard swallow. "I’ll go for a walk so the two of you can talk."

"Faith," Shawn began to argue as Faith headed towards the door.

"Jessica I know this probably means nothing to you, but I am sorry," Faith softly offered before making her exit.

"It doesn’t," Carey mumbled as the door clicked shut.

"Jess Jessup, no small wonder why you started using your middle name after you were married," Shawn tossed out taking a seat on the sofa hoping her guest would follow her lead.

"I wasn’t overly attached to the name Charles," Carey fussed as she began to pace. "Why should I be? It wasn’t good enough for my mother."

"Faith was your swimming instructor," Shawn began slowly the images playing out in her mind. "You were about five and you idolized her until one day she told you to stay away from her. You never knew why until you were older and your mother told you the truth. That explains that humongous chip you’re still carrying on your shoulder."

"I was just a little girl!" Carey argued.

"And she was a hurt and confused teenager, let it go," Shawn encouraged knowing that Carey wasn’t going to let the past go easily.

Carey paced for a few more minutes before she retrieved a small notebook from her back pocket. "Any more surprises for me?" She demanded in a half serious tone of voice. "Cute t-shirt by the way."

Shawn smiled looking down at the simple black tee that sported the words, ‘I see dead people,’ "Well I do," the blonde quipped with a cocky grin.

"I’m beginning to believe you," Carey conceded as she flipped open the note pad. "Hester Moscovich, murdered on September 13, 1955 on her front stoop. The police suspected she was raped, no witness, no suspects. She was murdered just shy of her eighteenth birthday."

"He didn’t rape her," Shawn supplied in a knowing tone. "He groped her, tried to kiss her and he couldn‘t understand why she was refusing him. She wouldn’t kiss him, so he forced her down and she split her head open on the steps. When he pushed her down he had his hand wrapped around her throat, he was strangling her and he didn’t bang her head against the steps just once it was several times. Her last thought was, ‘why?’"

"You saw her die?" Carey blinked with surprise. "So any ideas on who killed her?"

"He panicked when he saw the blood, he ran into the alley climbed the fire escape and ducked in an open window on the third floor," Shawn related as the scene played out in her mind. "It was a bedroom window. I’m assuming that he lived there. It was the last night anyone in that neighborhood left their windows unlocked at night."

"The third floor apartment off of the alley was occupied by the Marshall family," Carey read from her notes. "They had two teenaged sons, Gilbert and Maynard. The police didn’t question them right away since their parents claimed the boys were both sound asleep when the murder happened. Maynard still lives there."

"Still?" Shawn gaped.

"Rent control," Carey explained.

"Work, now that is a steal," Shawn blew out. "So, now the only question is which one of the Marshall boys did it?"

"They’re both still alive," Carey continued. "Both are well into their late sixties. Gilbert moved to California. Think he wanted to get as far away as possible?"

"If he has a guilty conscious maybe," Shawn responded as she tried to grasp the new images that were calling out to her. "And Maynard might have stayed because of the guilt and really cheap rent. I just can’t get a fix on it."

"Do you think it might help if you went back to the crime scene?" Carey encouraged. "I can’t believe I just suggested that. Brian is going to love this."

"Just call him and have him meet us there," Shawn rambled on as she grabbed her keys and pulled a sweatshirt over her tee. "If he gives you any flack about listening to a psychic just use the fact that I’m dating your sister as a distraction."

"I don’t think of her that way," Carey grunted.

"Yes you do, that is why it hurts so much," Shawn chastised her. "Let’s go and just so you know, that pepperoni pizza you brought is going to be history by the time we get back."

"Oh is that a prediction?" Carey fussed as she dialed her ex-husband’s number.

"No, I just know Faith she’ll take one look at the vegetarian delight and think it is way too healthy to put in her body," Shawn beamed as they headed out of the apartment. "In fact her exact words will be yuck green stuff."

***********************************************************

Shawn was filled with a sense of apprehension as they approached the brick building on Bleecker Street. The source came from many directions, the middle-aged man leaning against the wall was one source, and another was an unseen person pacing nervously in the building behind them. She had seen and felt everything Hester had experienced during her last few moments of life and she wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

"Brian Jessup this Dr. Shawn Williams," Carey reluctantly introduced the two.

"Hi," Brian snorted as he shook his head. "You know Jay when I passed those television people off on you I never suspected that you, of all people, would fall for this crap."

"Brian, I can’t explain it but I am starting to believe it," Carey defended herself glaring at her former husband. Shawn studied the duo carefully it was painfully obvious that Brian was still carrying a torch for his ex-wife.

"Detective Jessup," Shawn interrupted the stand off that the two former spouses were starting. "You don’t have to believe me or in what I do," she slowly began weary of having to explain her gift to everyone she met. "Just let me tell you what I saw and you can take it from there. Believe me don’t believe me it doesn’t really matter, just do this for Hester forty-eight years ago someone got away with murder. Now wouldn’t you like to bring her some peace?"

"What the hell," he blew out as he tapped an old file. "Go ahead, but if this is a waste of time Jay, you owe me dinner."

"Why do I owe you dinner? Never mind if you close this case you are spending the night at the ballet," Carey fussed with a scowl. "Okay, Shawn tell my pompous ex-husband what you saw."

"The two of you are really evenly matched aren’t you?" She laughed. "Fine, it was dark, Hester was walking from that direction," she began the images returning. "She was wearing a poodle skirt, saddle shoes, bobby socks, a simple white blouse and a light blue sweater," she watched with a small degree of amusement as Brian tore open the file and his eyes widened. "She was happy, for no reason in particular just enjoying the night air and looking forward to a dance that weekend. Norman, Norbert something like that had asked her earlier that day to go with him. She saw him stumbling as she approached the front steps, she knew him. For a brief moment she wondered if he was sick then she realized that he was drunk and felt sorry for him."

"Was this the guy who asked her out?" Carey jumped in.

"No," Shawn confidently responded. "This guy was someone she thought of as a kid, not someone she would date. I can’t see his face. She’s thinking that he is going to be in trouble if his parents find out he’s been drinking. She doesn’t want to talk to him because he is always following her around and doesn’t understand that she doesn’t think of him that way. She waves to him and tries to get in the building before he starts talking to her. He says hello and she thinks he is silly trying to act sober when he can barely stand. He staggers towards her. I can see his jacket it is one of those letterman jackets, and it is red with white sleeves."

"Does it have a name on it?" Carey pushes as Shawn tries to focus.

"Marsh," she grumbles in response. "Which could have been either boy’s nickname? He grabs her by the arm, he wants her to stay and talk with him. He stammers, he begs her to stay. She doesn’t take him seriously and tries to get away without hurting his feelings. She isn’t afraid of him even as his hold on her tightens. He asks her to the dance, she tells him she is going with someone else. She still isn’t afraid, in fact she feels sorry for him. I can’t understand what he is saying he is very drunk. She is disgusted by the smell of cheap bourbon, definitely bourbon she notices. He asks her for just one kiss. She laughs and tries to push him away. He is holding onto both of her arms. Still she doesn’t raise her voice because she doesn’t want him to get into trouble. She tries to push him away as he tries to kiss her. Even as he tightens his hold on her she isn’t afraid of him. ‘Just one kiss,’ he keeps repeating as he pushes her down. She laughs at him again and one of his hands wraps around her throat. She is furious when she feels his other hand groping her. Just one kiss he keeps repeating as his hand tightens against her throat. Now she is afraid, she can’t breathe he pushes her down. Her body slams against the steps. Her heart is pounding. She is in pain; he slams her against the stoop once again. His eyes are dark with anger. She gasps for air, his hand has slipped from her throat and he tears open her blouse. She screams he pushes her down harder and her head splits open on that step and her last thought is ‘why’, as the blood spills from her body. He realizes what he has done when the lights in the building turn on and he sees the blood. He raced into the alley, climbed the fire escape and ducked into that window. That is all I saw, except on his jacket there are a pair of what looks like shoes with wings embroidered on the letter."

"Track and field," Carey noted as she glanced over at Brian. "So, which one of the Marshal boys lettered in track?"

"Both," Brian stammered out his response.

"Now why did I think this would be easy?" Carey grumbled.

"I can’t believe you are buying this," Brian argued. "You could have looked the case up on line and just made up the rest."

"True," Shawn conceded. "But I didn’t and why would I?"

"Miss Williams," Brian began purposely dropping her title addressing her in a condescending tone. "The one thing I’ve learned from my job is that I will never understand why people do the things they do."

"Charming isn’t he?" Carey snickered. "What about the witness statements?" She questioned as she wandered towards the alley. "That is a hell of jump to reach the fire escape, unless you’re a terrified teenaged boy who is on the track team."

Shawn shook off the feeling that they were being watched. She could feel two people watching one was concerned and the other was frightened.

"No one saw or heard anything except Hester’s scream," Brian reluctantly supplied as he and Shawn followed Carey into the alley.

"Even from this building?" Carey challenged pointing to the building adjacent to the crime scene. "If he climbed the fire escape who ever was living there would have heard something."

"If it had happened last week," a gruff voice disrupted them. "Back then this building wasn’t over priced condos for the upwardly mobile; it was a hardware store."

"Captain Mallory?" Carey sputtered with a hard swallow. "Sir what brings you here?"

"It isn’t Captain anymore," the elderly gentleman offered with a warm smile as he joined them. "I heard that you were looking into the Moscovich homicide. You I’ve seen on television," he smiled at Shawn. "The Discovery Channel I think. I hope you don‘t mind but I was eavesdropping; I wanted to hear what you had to say."

"You covered her with a blanket," Shawn supplied with a smile knowing that this was the person she had felt watching them, the one who was filled with concern. "For her parent’s sake and it was her eyes."

"I felt like she was staring at me," he sadly responded. "Jack Mallory, NYPD, retired," he explained offering Shawn his hand. "Hester was my first homicide; I still remember the look in her eyes. I never forgot and I never stopped looking for the truth. She wasn’t that much younger than me," his voice trailed off. "I always wondered why the lead detective never pushed the boys. I was just a rookie beat cop back then so no one listened to me."

"Why is it that you thought they should talk to the Marshal boys, Sir?" Brian questioned.

"They were sound asleep at ten o’clock at night," the former police officer responded. "Now what fourteen and sixteen year old boys are asleep at that hour? Now, I don’t want to get in the way, but if I can help?"

"Anything you can tell us would be helpful Captain," Carey readily offered. "What can you tell us about the other tenants?"

"Some of them moved immediately after the murder, those that could find a new apartment. Back in those days folks used to read the obituaries just to find an apartment," he began. "Three of the tenants from back then still live here. Most of the others are scattered or have passed on. Frank Lanes, he owns the building, he lives on the first floor, and normally he would have been sitting by that window right there. That night he and his wife were towards the back end of the apartment because the baby was colicky. Then there is Eileen Shavers, she’s a retired schoolteacher. She’s on the second floor towards the back she heard the scream and called the police. And last, but not least, Maynard Marshal who you already know about."

"Good, we’ll talk to them one by one so it doesn’t look like we are only focused on Maynard," Carey began with enthusiasm.

"Uhm Jay, a moment of your time?" Brian gruffly addressed her leading her away from the others. Shawn followed closely behind knowing that it was her contribution to the investigation that was troubling Brian. "Look Jay, this one means a lot to the Captain maybe I should review the file before we go off half cocked?"

"Bri," Carey huffed. "The Captain means the world to me too. Sorry Shawn, Mallory was a mentor to the both of us. Hell he gave me away at our wedding. Brian is worried that if it turns into a wild goose chase,"

"And he still carries her picture in his wallet," Shawn cut Carey off. "He still calls her mother down in Boca Raton once a year to let her know that he hasn’t forgotten."

"And despite his advanced years he can hear you," Mallory shouted waving for them to join them. The frantic motion of his arm informed all of them it wasn’t a request. They hurried over to him. "Kids, I want to be able to call Sophia and tell her that her daughter’s killer has finally been locked away. Now if there is a snow balls chance in Hell that this young lady has stumbled upon the key to answering that question maybe I can go to sleep tonight and not see that girl staring up at me. Now let’s start knocking on some doors."

"Yes Sir," Carey and Brian chimed in unison.

"That case in Arkansas, did you really see a work man running around that hotel?" Jack Mallory inquired as he held his arm out for Shawn. She smiled as she accepted his gracious offer and allowed him to lead her up to the building. Despite Jack Mallory advancing years the man was as sturdy as a rock. Shawn felt a strong sense of warmth and honor emanating from the kindly gentleman.

"Michael, he was a carpenter when the hotel was being built," Shawn prattled on as they entered the building. "He died during the construction. He was quite a prankster, loved lifting up the maid’s skirts and such."

Mallory simply chuckled at the story as Brian knocked on the door for the first floor apartment. "Good afternoon, Miss I’m detective Jessup, and this oddly enough, is detective Jessup. We need to speak to Frank Lanes?" Brian explained as he and Carey showed their badges to the young brunette who appeared to be in her early twenties.

"Come in," the young woman stammered as she stepped aside. "What do you want with Gramps? I’m Candice Summers," she politely introduced herself.

"Thank you Miss Summers," Carey cut Brian off before he could take control. "We really hate bothering you and your Grandfather but we’re looking into an old case from the fifties. If there is any chance either of your grandparents can remember something it would really be helpful."

"Gram died three years ago," Candice sadly supplied guiding the group through the apartment to a back bedroom. Frank Lanes was propped up in a hospital bed staring blankly in his mind he saw a world that no longer existed. "I don’t know if Gramps can help you, since the last stroke he hasn’t been coherent. Every once in awhile he seems to know what is going on, you could try. When did you say this happened?"

"1955," Brian explained.

"Wow, my mom wasn’t even born yet," Candice quipped as Jack Mallory approached Frank Lanes.

"Mr. Lanes?" He gently began his face darkening as he realized that the nice man he had once met was gone. "Sorry to bother you sir, I’m Jack Mallory. I was one of the police officers who was here the night Hester was murdered," Mallory paused as Frank stared off into space. He sighed deeply. "I’m sorry to hear about your wife Mr. Lanes, she was a nice lady. I see your grand daughter has been keeping up the window boxes. They look beautiful," Frank blinked at the comment as his eyes turned to the window and he smiled. "It was good seeing you again," he added as he patted the aging man on the shoulder.

"Thank you for saying that," Candice offered as she shook Mallory’s hand. "Gram’s window boxes were her little garden. I always asked her why she just didn’t move and buy a nice little place with a yard. She said this was home. I’ve been trying to keep them up since she passed," she added as her eyes misted over. "So, Uhm, this Hester she died in the building? That is a little creepy."

"No, not in the building," Mallory quickly reassured the young lady. "Her family lived here at the time, that’s all."

"You saved that poor kid from nightmares," Carey noted as they climbed the stairs. "What a great old building," she added as they headed down the hallway towards Eileen Shavers’ apartment. "Though an elevator might be a nice addition," she huffed.

"Eileen Shavers, she was thirty at the time, the first to call police, she heard the scream and some noise in the alleyway," Brian supplied as he flipped through the old case file.

"She’s a real pistol, Jay should handle this one," Mallory offered as they approached the door.

"She heard noise in the alley," Carey processed. "Did the detectives at the time check into that?"

"They assumed that the killer was a stranger, a vagrant who made his escape by running down the alley," Mallory explained. "The alley used to run all the way to Mott Street. Mott Street wasn’t one of the nicer neighborhoods back then, O’Shea and Ryan, the lead investigators at the time, were convinced the killer was from Mott Street."

"Because almost everyone who lived there at the time had names that ended with vowels," Shawn supplied with an accusing glance.

"Yes," Mallory reluctantly admitted. "Mott Street was known for small time numbers running and a lot of wanna be thugs. I didn’t buy the theory, the boys from Mott Street wanted to be wise guys, they might hijack a truck and run illegal gambling but assaulting a girl wasn’t their style. If the killer did use the alley, I figured he jumped on the subway. There is a stop not far from where the alley let out."

"They ignored the people who were close to her because they didn’t like the boys who lived on the next block?" Carey groaned.

"That is the way things ran in those days," Mallory grimly informed her.

"That would explain the men they brought in for questioning, everyone lived on Mott Street and had an Italian last name," Brian supplied knocking on Eileen Shavers door. They waited a few moments before Brian knocked once again only louder this time.

"Hold your water!" Was shouted from inside and Mallory snickered. They continued to wait listening to shuffling and the steady stream of curses being muttered before the sounds of several locks clicking open greeted them. "Jack Mallory, I knew you couldn’t stay away," the elderly woman taunted the former policeman moving her walker aside and allowing the group to enter her quaint apartment. "Finally come to your senses and decided to sweep me off my feet?" She wheezed as she shuffled across the room and took a seat.

Shawn cleared her throat as the dank aroma of stale cigarette smoke assaulted her. "Sit, you’re making me nervous," she barked as she lit up a cigarette. "Unless we’re going dancing?" She continued to tease the man with a wry smirk. Shawn suppressed a laugh knowing that the retired schoolteacher was gay.

"Anytime, Miss Shavers," Jack teased in response as the group, with the exception of Shawn, took a seat. The retired schoolteacher glanced at the psychic for a brief moment before snickering under her breath.

"What about you young man?" She teased Brian. "Think you could keep up with me?"

"No, I honestly don’t," Brian confessed with a slight stammer.

"Miss Shavers," Carey brightly cut in before the older woman could further torment her ex-husband. "As you’ve probably guessed we are here because of Hester Moscovich."

‘She loves playing with them,’ Shawn heard a voice echo. She smiled over at Eileen spying the figure loaming over her. ‘All the boys loved her and she belonged to you,’ Shawn silently responded to the misty apparition.

"Tell me you finally caught the sick bastard who hurt that girl," Eileen demanded as she glared up at Jack.

"We’re looking into the case," Carey carefully responded.

"No," Eileen sniffed. "One, two, three cops and you," she added pointing towards Shawn. "You’re on to something."

"How did you know I’m not a cop?" Shawn taunted the woman who lit another cigarette.

"Because you don’t look like you have a stick shoved up your ass like these three do," Eileen boasted as she blew out a puff of smoke. Brian’s jaw dropped while Carey and Mallory smiled at the elderly woman’s commentary.

"I like her," Carey chuckled. "Yes, we do have some new information. What can you tell us about that night? Anything you can recall would be very helpful."

"Recall?" Eileen snorted with disgusted. "I’ll never forget the sound of that poor girl screaming. I still hear it sometimes at night."

"How did you hear her?" Carey pressed. "This apartment is way in back of the building."

"Back then at that time of night the streets were quiet," Eileen bristled. "Not like today with all those damn boom boxes and everyone shouting into those freaking cell phones. Nope back in those days you could get a decent night sleep, except when George and Mona got all hot and heavy. Those two humped like animals. You’d think that fat bastard was god’s gift to women."

Shawn suppressed a laugh as Mallory smiled over at Eileen while Carey and Brian gaped at her. "Uhm, getting back to the night of September 13, 1955," Carey stammered with a shake of her head. "What exactly did you hear and when did you hear it?"

"I’ll never forget that night," Eileen began sadly extinguishing her cigarette and instantly sparking another one. "I was asleep it was just after ten, I remember looking at the clock when I woke up."

"What woke you up?" Carey pressed as Brian reviewed Eileen’s original statement.

"A blood curdling scream," Eileen conveyed with a hard swallow. "I went white as a sheet when I heard it. I called the police immediately."

"You didn’t check to see what had happened first?" Carey questioned as her brow furrowed.

"No," Eileen sniffed indignantly. "That sound wasn’t kids kicking up their heels, someone was in trouble. I called the cops then I raced downstairs to see if I could help."

"When did you hear the footsteps in the alley?" Carey questioned Eileen in a curious tone. It was more than obvious that something about the woman’s story was off.

"When I called the cops," Eileen snapped as Shawn ran her fingers along a silver picture frame resting on the mantle.

"Miss Shavers I know it was a long time ago but do you remember if you heard the footsteps for a long time, like someone went the length of the alley or was it more of a short jaunt?" Carey encouraged doodling in her notepad.

"How the hell should I know?" Eileen barked her hand trembling as she lit another cigarette off of the one she was about to extinguish. "It was footsteps that’s it."

"Well I guess if there is nothing else you can remember we should get going," Carey sighed as she stood. Shawn folded her arms across her chest as she gazed down at the chain-smoking woman. "What?" Carey grumbled as she caught the look in Shawn’s eyes. "Something you want to add?"

"Just one question," Shawn softly offered her gaze never wavering from the older woman. "What did Thelma see or hear that night?"

"Dr. Williams you must be mistaken," Mallory interjected. "Miss Shavers was alone that evening."

"No she wasn’t," Shawn gently explained her hazel eyes pleading with Eileen to tell the truth. "What did Thelma tell you?"

"Fuck," Eileen grunted as she blew out a terse breath releasing another stream of smoke.

"Eileen this isn’t 1955 anymore," Shawn encouraged.

"I’ve noticed," Eileen snorted extinguishing her cigarette this time failing to light another. "I never heard the footsteps, that was Thelma."

"What?" Mallory exclaimed.

"You weren’t alone that night?" Carey carefully asked. "Any reason why you chose to hide this information from the police?"

"Yeah a damn good one," Eileen snarled. "How long do you think I would have kept my job if it got out?"

"I don’t understand," Mallory stammered.

"No, you don’t," Eileen sighed glancing up at Shawn. "You do," she smirked at the blonde. "She didn’t move in until the following spring, thank Christ this is a two bedroom. The nosey parkers in this joint would have had a field day if they knew."

"Miss Shavers I still don’t see," Jack stammered.

"Thelma was her girlfriend," Carey quickly interjected.

"That is a pitiful label for what we shared," Eileen scolded the policewoman. "We were together for forty-three years until she had the bad manners to die on me."

"Oh?" Jack stammered as he gaped down at the woman.

"When we heard the scream, I called the cops just like I said," Eileen began. "When I hung up Thelma told me she heard someone in the alley. I got dressed told her to lock the bedroom window before I rushed downstairs. Poor Hester seeing her like that broke my heart. She was such a sweet girl. I wish I could tell you more, I know Thelma looked out the window she said she didn’t see anything. Not like you can ask her. Unless you‘ve got a Ouija Board or a psychic you‘re shit out of luck."

"What?" Eileen barked as all eyes turned towards Shawn. Eileen quirked her eyebrows with disbelief while she studied Shawn who smiled back at her with an amused grin. "Now, I know you’re yanking my chain."

"Miss Shavers if it isn’t too much of an inconvenience could I look out your bedroom window?" Shawn politely requested.

"Knock yourself out," Eileen snorted merrily. "Best offer I’ve had in years."

"Thank you," Shawn nodded as she spied a very amused Thelma watching over her lover. Carey followed closely behind Shawn as she headed directly towards the bedroom without asking which door led to the room.

"Anything I can do to help?" Carey offered as her eyes darted around the room.

"No," Shawn sighed as she drank in the warm feelings that surrounded her. "There is so much warmth here," she began absently.

"They must have loved one another very much," Carey said as she looked around the room.

"They still do," Shawn corrected with a soft smile. "Now if I can just get Thelma to leave Eileen’s side I might be able to see what she saw that night?" Shawn tried valiantly to no avail. "It won’t work, she refuses to leave Eileen."

They returned to the living room, Shawn sighed as all eyes once again focused on her. "So, what did you see besides the mountain of dust bunnies under my bed?" Eileen taunted her.

"Nothing," Shawn glumly confessed.

"Damn I was hoping for the winning lottery number," Eileen teased as Shawn released an exasperated sigh.

"May I?" Shawn asked as she held out her hand.

"You’re not trying to get fresh with me?" Eileen laughed as she held out her gnarled hand for Shawn.

"No Ma’am," Shawn laughed. "Thelma watches over you and I don’t think she would take that very well."

"Tell me something I don’t know," Eileen beamed when Shawn clasped her hand.

Shawn’s body trembled as the night was shattered by an ungodly scream. "What was that?" Thelma asked as she and her lover jerked up from the bed. She glanced over at her lover who was dialing the telephone. The sound of someone running followed by a loud clunk of metal echoed in the alley. Thelma thrust her head out the window her heart raced as she peered out into the darkness. "I heard someone running in the alley way," she explained when her lover hung up the telephone and hastily began to dress.

"Get away from the window woman," Eileen snapped. "You’re naked, what in blue blazes are you thinking. I called the police stay here while I check out what is going on."

"Eileen," Thelma gasped fearful for her lover’s safety.

"I’ll be right back," Eileen reassured the smaller woman before kissing her lightly on the lips. Eileen only paused long enough to shut and lock the bedroom window before she raced out of her apartment. "Sweet Jesus," Eileen sobbed as she opened the downstairs door. She felt sick as Hester’s lifeless eyes stared up at her. "Poor child," she sobbed as the other tenants filed out of the building only to be greeted by the grisly sight. "No," Eileen gasped grabbing Sophia turning the poor woman away from the ugliness.

Shawn allowed Eileen’s hand to slip from her grasp. "You held her mother, trying to keep her from seeing Hester," Shawn complimented the woman. "You didn’t want her to remember her child that way. That was very kind of you."

"Well," Eileen choked out as she cleared her throat. "This has been the most entertainment I’ve had in years. Did it help?"

"Yes," Shawn offered softly. "Thelma did hear someone running but not the length of the alley, and she heard metal clanging like the sound of someone climbing the fire escape."

"Are you saying that the maniac that killed Hester was hiding in the building?" Eileen squawked.

"I think so," Shawn grimly informed her. "Thank you again, you’ve been very helpful," she added motioning for the others to follow her.

"What no lottery numbers?" Eileen jested as she stood and shuffled along behind them wheeling her walker as quickly as she could manage.

"Sorry," Shawn smirked. "I do have a message for you, cut back on the smokes. I’m with you don’t be in such a hurry to join me."

"Just like her to bitch me out from the great beyond," Eileen cackled. "Tell her I’ll try."

"She can hear you," Shawn brightly explained before they made their departure.

"Told you she was a pistol," Mallory blew out as they headed towards the staircase. "I had no idea she was one of them."

"And if you did she might have ended up a suspect," Shawn grunted as they climbed the stairs.

"Fine," Brian snapped as Carey glared at him. "I don’t want to be rude, but so far all I’ve seen and heard are you making up things to back up the story you’ve been telling us. I’m sorry but we’re not any closer to finding out what really happened than the police were fifty years ago."

"Christ Brian," Carey snapped. "What about Thelma?"

"Thelma?" Brian snorted with amusement. "Come on Jay, how hard could it be to guess that a retired school teacher who never married is a lesbian?"

"I don’t think I care for that generalization," Shawn countered as she quirked her head. "True it was good old fashioned gaydar not my gift that clued me into Eileen’s orientation."

"Huh?" Brian stammered.

"Kids," Mallory interjected. "Let’s try and focus on the matter at hand, shall we? Brian as Dr. Williams so aptly pointed out to you earlier you don’t have to believe her. Personally, I find it interesting that not only did she know Miss Shavers wasn’t alone that night, but she knew the name of her companion. My concern at the moment is Maynard Marshal. If you’ve read the reports you might have noticed that not once in almost fifty years has his story varied."

"I did notice that," Brian sheepishly confessed looking as if a parent had just chastised him.

"Not once?" Carey pressed.

"Word for word, every time," Brian confided as they stopped at the end of the hallway.

"A well spun lie," Carey sighed. "He might think it is the truth by now. Any suggestions on how we should proceed, sir?"

"I haven’t a clue," Mallory confessed. "The Marshal family has been questioned over a dozen times. Each time the story was the same, the boys were sick no one heard a thing except Hester’s scream and the police sirens. But only the parents heard that, the boys were asleep. It is a plausible scenario except the times I talked with the boys there was just something in their eyes that told me that they were lying. No one ever believed me, until now."

"Did either of them ever marry?" Carey piped in.

"Maynard married and divorced quickly at least four times and Gilbert is still married to his college sweetheart," Mallory responded.

"Maynard is so moving up my list," Carey wryly supplied. "Brian why don’t you take this one?"

"Why?" He sighed knowing that his former bride was up to something.

"Maynard obliviously has issues with women," Carey dryly retorted. Brian glared at her. "Knock on the door."

He complied with her wishes only to receive no answer. He knocked again and again. "Guess he’s out," he grumbled.

"No, he’s home he just doesn’t want to talk to us," Shawn informed the scowling detective. "Pizza delivery!"

"Hey you can’t," Brian fumed.

"I just did," Shawn chuckled when the door swung open.

"I didn’t order any God damn," Maynard Marshal bellowed before he realized he had been tricked. Carey and Brian flashed their badges quickly. "What?" He shouted his eyes glancing over at Mallory.

"Sorry to disturb you Mr. Marshal I’m detective Jessup we have a few questions for you," Brian tentatively began. "May we come in?"

"No," Maynard sneered the sounds of a television blared in the background.

"It will just take a moment," Brian encouraged with a charming smile.

"I’m busy," Maynard growled.

"Fine, we’ll do this in the hallway," Brian conceded. "We need to talk to you about what happened in 1955."

"The Brooklyn Dodgers won the world series," Maynard smirked in response. "Anything else?"

"Thanks for the trivia," Carey snapped before Brian could proceed. "Actually we’re here about your neighbor the one who was murdered on the front steps of the building. Remember that?"

‘Wow she is so much like her sister,’ Shawn mentally noted.

"Oh that," he shrugged with indifference. "Long time ago, what was her name? Ester?"

"Hester," Carey fumed while Mallory handed him the girl’s picture. "Coming back to you now?"

"Don’t know anything my brother and I had the flu we were asleep," Maynard continued with indifference shoving the picture into Brian’s hands without even glancing at it. "We didn’t see or hear anything and only found out what happened the following morning now if there isn’t anything else?"

"Just one more thing," Brian politely continued still holding the picture in his hand. "Do you remember who her friends were or who she was dating?"

"I didn’t know her," Maynard groaned glancing over his shoulder so he could see the television.

"Pretty girl like her?" Brian pressed. "You would have been about the same age certainly you must have noticed her."

"Back then Catholic and Jewish kids didn’t play together," Maynard gruffly dismissed Brian’s observation.

‘He’s lying,’ Shawn silently observed her heart racing knowing that Maynard was about to shut the door in their faces. She smiled when something occurred to her. "Is that the playoff game?" She eagerly squealed.

"Sure is," Maynard responded still glancing over his shoulder.

"I’m sorry but could you tell me what the score is?" She pleaded in an innocent tone.

"I lost track thanks to you people," Maynard hissed.

"Oh, Uhm again I’m sorry, but could you at least tell me what inning it is?" Shawn frantically inquired. "I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass but the person I’m dating is a Red Sox fan."

"What is he an idiot?" Maynard scoffed in horror.

"Charley? Absolutely," she prattled on standing on her toes in an effort to see inside his apartment. "I told him the only reason the series went to game seven is because those bums from Boston got lucky."

"Tell me about it," Maynard snickered in agreement. Shawn pressed her advantage by pretending to sneak a peek at the game. "Come on," Maynard blew out in huff stepping aside allowing Shawn to enter the apartment.

She stood beside the elderly man who was lost in the game. "Pedro is still on the mound what are they stupid?" She shouted while glancing around the apartment. She shot a weary look at the trio lingering in the doorway. She jerked her head encouraging them to enter the apartment. They seemed puzzled yet they followed her lead. "Yes!" She and Maynard shouted when the Yankees scored. "That’s it," she shouted in encouragement as the Yankees scored again. She clapped Maynard on the back pretending to share his enjoyment of the game.

She gulped when the wave of nausea attacked her. She blew out a terse breath removing her hand from his back. "Yes," she clapped her hands still fighting against the sickening feeling that was swelling inside of her. "Now we can show them how to play the game," she boasted when the inning ended and a commercial began. "Are those yours?" She questioned in a flirtatious manner while pointing to some trophies stuffed in a corner of the room.

"Some of them," he shyly confessed when Shawn wandered over to the collection of pictures and trophies. "Just crap my Mother never threw out."

Shawn picked up a picture with crumbling gilded frame. It was a fading black and white photo of two teenaged boys in letterman jackets. "Which one are you?" She gushed already knowing the answer.

"That’s me," Maynard confessed with a slight stammer. "And that’s my brother Gil."

"Oh so you were the good-looking one," she prattled on handing the photo off to Carey.

"Yeah, Uhm, like I said I really should just toss that stuff," Maynard stammered just as the game came back on.

"Don’t you dare," Shawn scolded him playfully. "My Dad lettered in baseball. He still has his jacket. Still have yours?"

"I Uhm," he stammered as his ears turned bright pink. "Probably," he lied.

"Bet it still fits," Shawn cooed with a playful nudge.

"Hell, no," he laughed. "I," he stammered once again before his face dimmed.

"We have to go," Carey called out.

"Rats," Shawn pouted. "Enjoy the game."

"You can’t stay for the end?" He sheepishly invited her. "You know for a cop you’re not bad company."

"Oh I’m not a cop," she reassured him the information sent a wave of relief through him. "I’m just babysitting these idiots. Nice meeting you."

Once they had departed the Marshal apartment Shawn pressed her fingers to her lips cautioning her companions not to speak. They strolled in silence until they were half way down the block. "Sorry he was listening and watching," she explained. "He did it."

"Just like that," Brian sputtered with disbelief. "Why because you said so? And what was so fascinating about that picture?"

"Two teenaged boys in letterman jackets," Carey explained. "With their nicknames embroidered on the front. One said Marsh the other said Gil. He’s our guy."

"Jay," Brian argued.

"What?" Carey fumed throwing her hands up in anger. "Ignore him, I always do," she offered to Shawn. "When you touched Maynard what did you see? You looked like you were going to be sick."

"You were right he has some serious issues with women," Shawn choked out. "He killed her because she laughed at him. You noticed the stammer? He had a speech impediment as a kid, made him an outcast, sports was the only thing he had going for himself. The stammer comes back when he is nervous or excited. And he didn’t have the flu that day, his brother did. He only pretended to be sick as well so he could skip school. He snuck out later that night and got drunk. When he climbed in the window Gil woke up. Maynard told him to go back to sleep. In the back of his mind, Gil is still wondering if Maynard was involved with the murder."

"Smart thing using his love of sports to get us into the apartment," Carey complimented the blonde. "Still you didn’t have to call the Sox bums."

"Oops forgot you’re from Massachusetts," Shawn laughed. "But what I said is true sports are the only thing that means anything to him. And for the record the Yankees are going to win tonight."

"No," Carey wailed and the two men cheered.

"Oh now you believe I’m a psychic?" She taunted Brian. "Chill that isn’t a prediction. I’m from New York, they have to win or I’ll never hear the end of it from, my for lack of a better term, girlfriend. Now what happens?"

"Now," Brian tentatively began. "I go back to work on the case, see what turns up."

"Thank you Dr. Williams," Mallory offered clasping her hand. "Brian would you mind if I joined you?"

"Not at all Sir, I’d love your input," Brian eagerly agreed. "Dr. Williams, thank you," he offered sincerely hesitating in offering to shake her hand.

"Don’t worry you don’t have to," Shawn graciously offered. "Most people don’t want to shake my hand."

"Can’t imagine why," Brian responded with an uneasy laugh. "Just out of curiosity what should I look for?"

"His letterman jacket," Shawn causally answered. "He still has it. Her blood is on it. Or was he hasn’t looked at it since he hid it that night. He couldn’t give it to his mother to clean or take it to the dry cleaners because of the blood. He hid it in the back of his closet beneath a loose floorboard. He told his parents he lost it and he never replaced it."

"Except now he is thinking about it," Carey grimly noted. "He might ditch it."

"Well it looks as if we have some work to do boy," Mallory sternly informed Brian.

"Yes, sir," Brian nodded in agreement.

"Come on I’ll walk you home," Carey offered. "Headache?"

"Yes," Shawn groaned her temple throbbing in agony.

"I don’t know how you do it," Carey sympathetically commented. "It is hard enough seeing the things I see at work, but I couldn’t deal with the constant bombardment you live with on a day to day basis."

"It is what life handed me. What I choose to do with my gift is what makes a difference," Shawn wearily explained. "Besides seeing someone’s skull cracked open isn’t an every day event. Mostly I see jumbled images, just small glimpses into people’s lives."

"In Salem you were in agony," Carey noted.

"Salem has a tragic history, so many voices that need someone to hear that they were innocent," Shawn tried to explain. "I can hear them and I can tell them that I know that they were wronged."

"You also hear the guilty," Carey annoyingly pointed out.

"Every job has its downside," Shawn quipped. "Coming up?" They stood on the steps to Shawn’s building. Carey just looked up with an unreadable expression on her face. "Don’t you think it’s time?"

TBC

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