This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental.
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Mark Stevens
Chapter Twelve
"I'm glad you could meet me for lunch, Mom," Britt said to his mother.
"I always have time for my son," Catherine assured him. "You're just so busy," she added as she gave him one of her looks.
"I do seem to get pulled in every direction, don't I?"
The waiter approached their table. After he left with their order, Catherine sat back in her chair. "I understand Joe Thomas is no longer in jail."
Britt took a drink from his tea glass. "That's correct. His lawyer got him released yesterday afternoon."
"I just do not believe the man is guilty," Catherine declared.
Britt smiled at his mother. "I don't either, Mom."
Catherine was surprised. "You don't?"
"Something's not right," Britt said.
"I think it's awful that the school let the man go."
"Not much gets past you, does it, Mom?"
"You know how news travels in Porterville," she reminded him.
"Especially by way of your Center," he added. Britt leaned forward in his chair and said, "For the record, the school has not terminated Mr. Thomas. He's on leave until this mess can be straightened out. With pay, I might add."
"Well, it's only right. The man has worked for the school for years."
Their food arrived, and for a short time they ate in silence. Britt was the first to push his plate to the side. He let his eyes settle on his mother and watched as she took the last bite of her sandwich.
"What are you looking at?" she asked him. "Do I have food on my cheek?"
With a shake of his head, Britt said, "Just looking at you, Mom. I'm really glad I moved back to Porterville."
Catherine took a drink of her tea. "I can't tell you how happy it has made me. Honestly, I never thought it would happen. After you left Porterville, you just never seemed to feel the same way about the town as you once did."
Britt reached out and placed his hand on hers. "I'm happy to be home, Mom."
"I'm glad you found someone to make you happy."
"Devon does make me happy," Britt agreed.
"Here comes Mr. Reynolds," Catherine interrupted. She greeted the man with a smile. "It's good to see you, Justin."
Britt looked up to see Justin Reynolds standing before their table. "How's it going, Justin?"
"Can't complain," Justin answered.
Britt motioned at the table and said, "We'd ask you to join us, but as you can see, we were just in the act of leaving."
"That's quite all right," Justin told him. He held up a sack. "This restaurant has a delicious steak sandwich. I had ordered one to go and noticed the two of you as I was paying for it. So, tell me, Britt, anything new in the Abbott murder?"
"Not a whole lot," Britt answered. "Joe Thomas is out on bail."
"Is he, now? Even with the evidence the police has?"
"They do have the murder weapon," Britt agreed.
"And didn't I hear it was discovered in the man's workplace?"
"That is public information," Britt replied.
"Isn't that enough?"
Britt studied the man standing before him. "From what I hear, the police might possibly think the knife was placed at the church to make it appear Mr. Thomas is guilty."
"What's your take on it, Britt?"
Britt was slow forming an answer. Then, "Everyone's innocent until they've been proven guilty, Justin."
"You're right, of course." Justin turned to leave. "It was delightful seeing you again, Catherine."
Britt was suddenly left alone at the table with his mother. He turned to her and said, "What do you make of that, Mom?"
"He's a delightful young man, Britt," Catherine told her son. "Always polite and very courteous."
"I'll give him that," Britt agreed. He pushed back his chair. "It's been great, Mom. However, I have a lot to do before this day ends."
"Britt, I want you to promise me something."
"What's that, Mom?"
"I would bet the most precious thing I own that Joe Thomas is not guilty of this awful crime. If he needs help, will you see that he gets it?"
Britt gave his mother a "good son" smile and said, "I'll do what I can for the man. You have my word, Mom."
Catherine gave his hand a pat and stood to his feet. "You are such a good son."
Out on the street, Britt helped his mother into her car. Just before he closed the door he said, "This was great, Mom. Let's do it again soon."
"You know how to reach me."
"I love you, Mom." Britt pushed her car door shut.
Britt watched his mother drive away, her car soon disappearing from sight. He leaned against his own vehicle and allowed himself to become lost in thought. Something didn't seem quite right about this entire situation, but for the life of him, Britt didn't have an answer.
His thoughts settled on Joe Thomas. While it was true he didn't know the man well, nothing about the old gentleman caused Britt to believe that Thomas could commit murder. Britt had written several plots over the years that involved murder, and nothing about Joe Thomas even hinted the man could do such an awful thing.
Britt climbed into his car and took off down the street. At first he had no idea where he should go. He decided to drive around town, see if he could clear things up in his head. A short time later he decided on a plan.
Britt took off in a different direction and a few minutes later he pulled off onto a side street and stopped in front of a small house. He got out of his car and walked slowly up the steps, stopping in front of a heavy wooden door. He rang the bell.
Britt was suddenly face to face with Joe Thomas.
"Mr. Thomas, I hope you don't mind that I dropped by without calling first. I wanted to discuss something with you...that is, if it's okay with you?"
Joe Thomas invited Britt inside his home and motioned for him to take a seat. The older man sat directly across from Britt and remained silent.
"Mr. Thomas, I honestly believe you are innocent. However, I have got to have more than a feeling in my gut if I'm going to be any help to you."
Thomas sat forward in his chair. "Please, call me Joe. What can I do?"
Britt was thoughtful for a time. Then, "What can you tell me about Joyce Miller? Given the fact you knew her and that she was Susan Abbott's mother, she must somehow play a part in all of this."
"Joyce happened a long time ago, Mr. Williams."
"Britt."
"Joyce was another time, another place, Britt."
Britt leaned forward in his chair as well. "Tell me about her, Joe. Please," he added softly.
The man's eyes appeared to be looking into the past. For a few moments he didn't speak. Britt remained in his seat, waiting for the older man to begin his story.
"Joyce and I started dating in the ninth grade," he said. "She was such a looker, Britt. At first I had a hard time believing she could even like me. She was so pretty, and I was...well, I was just me. Plain, not much to look at," he added.
"She did like me, and after a time, she convinced me that I was good enough for her, and that she really did care for me. We were just kids back then. Two happy kids," Joe said.
"I understand Joyce suddenly left town," Britt said when Joe became silent.
"During the eleventh grade Joyce took a job at a diner in Porterville. `Red's Diner', it was called. Joyce was always very friendly and personable. She never met a stranger. Because of that, she would earn more money in tips than Red paid her in salary.. At the time I was working for an old farmer south of town. Between the two of us, we were doing fairly well. We had even talked about getting married after we graduated from high school.
"One evening I was supposed to pick Joyce up after work for a date. It had rained really hard that afternoon, and on the way into town my truck slid off the road. I had to walk about five miles, and by the time I arrived in town, the diner had closed and Joyce was nowhere to be found.
"The next day at school I caught Joyce and told her what had happened. She seemed distant but agreed to go out with me that evening. We went to a movie, and when I took her home, she seemed to be in a better mood.
"For a month or so things went along good for us. Then one night when I took her home, she told me she was leaving town. She said it was for the best. No matter how hard I tried, Joyce wouldn't tell me the real reason she was leaving. A few days later she moved away, and I never saw her again."
Britt could hear sadness in the man's words. He must have really loved the girl, he thought.
"And you never found out the real reason for her leaving?"
Joe shook his head. "I never heard from her after that."
"Then you married Barbara?"
Joe nodded. "I had to move on. About a year or so later I began dating Lucy. We married about a year after high school."
Britt suddenly remembered something. "That's twice you've referred to your wife as `Lucy'. You called her by that name the day I visited you at the police station. I didn't think of it then, but I thought her name was Barbara. That's the name on the insurance policy."
"Her name was Barbara Lucille," Joe answered. "Her family always called her `Lucy'. She was a good woman, Britt."
"I'm sure she was, Joe."
Britt fell silent, letting his eyes focus on the man across the room from him. "Joe, what was the man's name who ran the diner where Joyce worked?"
"Red Stevens."
"Is he still living?"
"He is," Joe answered. "However, I've heard his mind is not always clear these days. He's in the nursing home I believe."
"I don't remember Red's Diner," Britt remarked.
"It's been closed a long time now. I suspect you wouldn't remember it. I'm sure your mother would."
"I'll have to ask her about it." Britt stood to his feet. "I have another stop or two to make. If you think of anything else about Joyce and the time you two were together, give me a call. You have my cell number."
Joe followed Britt to the door. "I really don't know why you're helping me, but I certainly do appreciate your effort."
Britt gave the man a smile. "I don't like to see anyone take the blame for something they didn't do. Hang in there, Joe. We'll get to the bottom of this."
Britt looked at his watch as he climbed behind the wheel of his car. It was three o'clock. He decided to drop by the local nursing home and look Red Stevens up. Hopefully the man could provide him with the answers Britt needed.
A short time later Britt entered the Porterville Nursing Home. He stopped at the desk and asked about Red Stevens. He was told the man's room number. Britt thanked the woman behind the desk and headed down a long hallway. He stopped before a closed door and knocked.
"Come in," a voice called.
Britt pushed the door back and stepped inside the room.
"Mr. Stevens?"
"That's me."
Britt discovered an elderly gentleman sitting in a recliner. He gave the man a smile.
"Mr. Stevens, my name is Britt Williams. If it's all right with you, I would like to have a visit with you."
The old man looked sharply at him. "Would Daniel Williams happen to be your father?"
Caught by surprise, Britt gave a nod. "He was my dad," he answered.
"Was?"
"That's correct. He passed on a few years back."
Red Stevens was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, "Seems like I heard he had died. It happens to all of us eventually."
"I understand you operated a diner many years ago here in town, Mr. Stevens."
"That's right, I did. In fact, your dad was a good customer back in those days. Your mother, too, after they were married."
"Mom is still living," Britt told the man.
"That's good. Enjoy your parents, son. You won't always have them around."
Red Stevens pointed to a chair and told Britt to have a seat. "You say you want to hear about the diner?"
"I want to know about one of your employees back then," Britt spoke up. "Her name was Joyce Miller."
"Ah, yes, I remember Joyce well. She was a real pretty girl," Red remembered.
"So I've been told," Britt said. "What else do you remember about her, Mr. Stevens?"
"She only worked a few months for me. Seems to me she suddenly left town and was never heard from again. It was a shame, too. The Thomas boy was crazy about her."
"Joe Thomas?"
"That's right," Red said with a nod.
"Can you remember anything else about Joyce?"
Britt watched as the elderly man rubbed his forehead. "I remember Joyce was good with the customers. Especially the men folk. She was young and an innocent flirt. Oh, I don't mean she was cheap...nothing like that."
Britt smiled at the old man's words. He listened as the man continued.
"She just had a way about her, Joyce did." The smile disappeared from the man's face, replaced by a frown. "There was this one young fellow. I say young, but he wasn't that young. Maybe five or ten years older than Joyce. He had some kind of route he covered, and he stopped at the diner on his way through town."
"What made this customer stand out from the rest?" Britt asked.
Red shook his head. "The attention he showed Joyce seemed different. Not innocent like the others," he added. "Like he knew what he was doing, but Joyce didn't have a clue."
"Did he come to the diner fairly often?"
"At least once a week. For several months. One night he was eating in the diner. Joyce had told him she had a date with her boyfriend after she got off work. Something happened and her date never showed up. I remember this guy offered to drive Joyce home." Red paused for a moment, and he seemed lost in his thoughts. Then, "Come to think of it, I don't remember him ever coming back to the diner after that night."
"Do you remember the man's name, Red?"
Red shook his head. "That was a long time ago. I do good to remember what happened yesterday," he said with a grin.
Britt stood to his feet. The old gentleman was showing signs of becoming worn out from talking. "Thanks for the information, Red. I'll come back another time." He pulled a card from his wallet and said, "You can reach me at this number. If you think of anything, anything at all, please give me a call."
"Tell me, young man, why are you digging into the past? This all happened a long time ago."
"I know. I'm writing a book about Porterville, and I'm trying to establish some facts about the town's early history." The explanation sounded good to Britt's ears.
Red looked at the card in his hand. "If I remember anything else, I'll be sure and give you a call."
"It would be a big help if you could remember the man's name who gave Joyce a ride that night," Britt told the man.
Red shook his head. "Don't think that's going to happen, young fellow. Been too much water under the bridge since then."
Britt gave the man a smile as he headed for the door. "I understand. Still, should you remember anything more, call me. Thanks for your time, Red."
"Come back sometime," the old man invited. "I don't get many visitors these days."
Britt assured Red that he would be back to see him. Deep down he hoped like hell the old man would remember the name of the man who had flirted with Joyce Miller.
The afternoon was nearly gone when Britt returned to his car. He drove the short distance to his mother's home and pulled into her driveway.
Britt hurried up the steps and opened the front door to his mother's house. He called out to her.
"In the kitchen," Catherine called.
When he found her, his mother said, "I must be doing something right. Imagine seeing my son twice in one day." She shook her head. "I feel faint."
"Aren't you the funny one, Mom?" Britt gave her a kiss on the cheek and pulled a chair out from the kitchen table.
"Would you like something to drink? I have some wine chilled in the refrigerator."
Britt told her he would take a small glass. He watched as she filled two glasses with wine. She carried them to the table and joined her son.
"Mom, what can you tell me about Red's Diner?"
Catherine took a sip from her glass. "My Lord, I haven't heard that name in a long time."
"Do you remember Red Stevens?"
His mother gave a nod. "I certainly do. I'm surprised that you know anything about the man or his diner. The place has been closed for years."
"The man is still living," Britt said. "He lives at the nursing home. In fact, I've just come from visiting with him."
"I didn't realize Red was still living," Catherine said, surprise showing on her face.
Britt nodded. "He is, and he seems to be in good health. I've learned that Joyce Miller worked at the diner."
"You're still curious about Joyce?" his mother asked.
"I am. You see, the young teacher who was killed out by the lake was her daughter."
"Is that a fact?"
"I'm thinking all of this ties in somehow," Britt explained. "I'm just not sure how it all fits together."
He repeated to Catherine the story Red Stevens had told him. "Do you have any idea who the man could have been?"
Catherine shook her head. "I wouldn't have a clue, Britt."
Britt drained his glass and stood to his feet. "Thanks for the drink, Mom. If anything comes to mind about that time, please, call me." He leaned down and gave her a kiss. "Love you, Mom."
"I want to have you guys over soon for a meal."
"Anytime, Mom. Just give us a call. We'll come flying."
Britt left his mother's house and headed out of town. It had been a busy day for him, and he was ready to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening with Devon. His mind felt cluttered, and for the moment, Britt felt as if he was running in a circle with no sense of true direction.