File M For Murder

“No, not terribly,” Teresa replied. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to check something in one of the old phone books, if you wouldn’t mind. I could come down there and do it myself, but I’m too impatient.” I laughed.

“Not a problem. What year or years do you need?”

I did a quick calculation. “1982 or 1983 should do it.”

“I’m going to put you on hold while I go pull them. Be right back.” Soft music played in my ear.

The old phone books resided in cabinets in the same room with the microfilm, so I knew it would take Teresa a minute or two to retrieve the requested items.

I glanced over at the sofa. Diesel was still asleep. I smiled as I turned back to the computer.

Teresa came back on the line. “Got them both. What are you looking for?”

“A family named Lawton who might have lived on Rosemary Street back then.”

“Okay, I’ll check.” I heard Teresa put the phone down and begin to riffle through the pages.

Would my hunch pan out?

THIRTY-SIX

While I waited for Teresa to give me an answer, I drummed the fingers of my free hand on the desk. The habit used to drive my late wife crazy, and I gradually trained myself not to do it anymore. I frowned and stilled my hand. When had I started doing it again?

Probably nerves, I decided. Before I could ponder it any further, Teresa spoke in my ear.

“Here it is, Charlie. Declan Lawton, 1742 Rosemary Street. He’s the only Lawton in the book. Is that what you were expecting?”

“Yes. Thank you so much, Teresa.” We chatted a moment longer, then I ended the call and stuck the phone back in my pocket.

Since there was only one listing for a Lawton in the phone book of the time, Declan had to be Connor’s father. That meant the Lawtons lived right next door to the Norrises when Connor was a child.

I found a blank piece of paper and a pencil and jotted down the name and address. I stared at the page for a moment before I put the pencil down.

Okay, so I proved that the Lawtons and the Norrises were neighbors at one time. Also that Sarabeth still owned her parents’ house. What did that do for me?

I flashed on Connor, the night of the party, standing on the sidewalk in front of 1742 Rosemary Street and staring at it. Was he remembering the early years of his life? Or puzzled by a house that seemed strangely familiar?

Then I recalled his odd actions in the kitchen of Sarabeth’s house, how he had stared at the cabinet and then gone to open it and peer inside. Was that another memory surfacing? A sense of déjà vu on Connor’s part would explain that episode, I now realized.

How much had he remembered of his childhood in Athena? He had been four or five when his family left. Someone told me that, but now I couldn’t recall whom.

Laura was the only person I could ask about Connor’s memories, and I hoped like anything he had talked to her about them. Otherwise I couldn’t go much further with my theory.

Well, not really a theory, I had to admit to myself. I still hadn’t figured out the point of this. Connor’s early childhood in Athena might have nothing to do with his murder.

But I guess I’d read too many mysteries—like every one of Ross Macdonald’s books for a start—in which the semi-distant past weighed heavily on the present. What if that were the case here?

I glanced at my watch. A few minutes before three. Sean said he and Laura would be home around three. I debated calling Laura now because I was in such a hurry to ask my questions.

Sean and Laura’s arrival home moments later saved me the trouble. I noticed Diesel perk up on the sofa just before I heard Sean calling out from the hallway, “Yoo-hoo, Dad, we’re home. Where are you?”

“Come on, boy,” I told the cat, but I could have saved my breath. He was off the sofa and out the door practically before the final syllable was out of my mouth.

When I stepped into the hallway, I raised my voice and responded to Sean. “Here I am. I was in the den working.”

“We’ll be in the kitchen.” Sean’s voice echoed down the hallway.

Laura sat at the table, Diesel already beside her, warbling away, and Sean had the fridge door open, head inside. He pulled out two beers and popped the caps before handing one to his sister. Spotting me, he asked, “Something to drink, Dad?”

“Some iced tea, I think, but I’ll fix it.” I waved him away, and he sat in his usual place at the table.

While I poured my tea and sweetened it, I said, “I have some rather unpleasant news for you, I’m afraid. Diesel and I had quite a bit of excitement this afternoon.”

Laura’s expression was apprehensive, and Sean’s was wary as I took my own place across from Sean.

As calmly and clinically as I could, I related to them the events of the afternoon. Neither of them spoke until I finished, and then Laura erupted into speech.

“What the devil is going on here? Who hates me enough to want to kill me? Damitra is dead, but even if she was still alive, she’d never do something like this.” Laura paused as she wrapped her arms across her chest and began to rock slightly in her chair.