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AT THE DINER, ALLY brought us coffee as I pulled the documents I had taken from Glory’s room. There were six white envelopes grouped together with a single purple ribbon tied around them.
“How could the authorities have missed this?” Ida Belle said.
“They were hidden well,” I replied, “and the police had no reason to suspect that the victim would hide anything important.”
“That’s actually a good point,” Gertie said. “Why did you think she had these things hidden? How did you know to look?”
I smiled. “You both forget, I used to be a seventeen-year-old girl. Girls that age all have things to hide from their parents. Glory was no different.”
“Let’s see what we have,” Ida Belle said.
Ally brought four cups of coffee. “I’m on break. Do you mind if I join you?”
“Please, sit,” I said. “We can use all the help we can get. Ida Belle, tell her the short version of what we are doing.”
Ida Belle explained to Ally the events leading up to this point as I opened the first envelope. I removed two pieces of paper. One was a brochure for a Los Angeles-based business called The Teller Talent Agency, with Steven Teller listed as the agency’s President.
On a separate piece of paper was a handwritten flight itinerary from New Orleans to LAX, dated February 23, 1986.
I looked at my Smartphone and Googled a calendar for February 1986.
“Emma died on Valentine’s day, February 14, 1986, a Friday,” I said. “She had been planning a trip to L.A. beginning nine days later on Sunday, February 23. There is no return flight listed.”
“Is this a coincidence?” Ally asked. “Do you think the trip is related to her murder?”
“I don’t know. Gertie, didn’t you tell me that Glory was interested in going to college and majoring in drama?” I asked.
“Yes,” Gertie said.
“Is it possible she planned to skip college and head to California early?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “I suppose so.”
The next envelope contained a letter from a boy named ‘Mark.’ In the letter, Mark was pleading with Glory not to go to California and not to give up her dream of going to college.
“Who do you think Mark is?” Gertie asked.
“His name is Mark Baker,” I replied. “I read about him in the archived articles that followed the case. He was a schoolmate and close friend of Glory’s. The article described their relationship as Platonic. The police questioned him extensively, but dismissed him as a person of interest in the crime.”
“What’s in the other envelopes, Fortune?” Ally asked.
I pulled a brochure for The New Orleans Theater for Performing Arts. The brochure advertised the opening of a play, Biloxi Blues. I noted that the show was scheduled for five performances around the date of Glory’s murder. I passed the brochure to Ally.
“Looks like she was planning to attend a theater performance,” Gertie said.
“I love going to the theater in New Orleans,” Ally said, “but I’ve never heard of The New Orleans Theater for Performing Arts.”
“The city council renamed it in 1993,” Gertie said. “It’s still there. It’s called the Mahalia Jackson Theater now.”
The other envelopes contained personal letters from friends, notes that had perhaps been passed back and forth in the classroom before the days when every child had a cell phone with text messaging. The content of the notes contained details about who was buying pot and beer, who held a fake I.D. and other various, sundry high school scuttlebutt. There were also gossip notes about which cheerleader was having sex with which ball player—all things a young teenager would not want her mother to see.
“It looks like the normal high school stuff,” Ida Belle said.
“She may not have had a boyfriend, but she had plenty of suitors,” Gertie said, sifting through the personal notes. “It also looks like Glory was quite the flirt.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Looking at the tone of these letters, it looks like she had quite a few boys on the hook, but none of them knew about each other,” Gertie replied. “It also looks like she wasn’t serious about any of them. But they were all in love with her. She was quite the tease.”
“And no reference to her meeting an older man?” Ally noted.
“None.”
“It supports the out-of-town stranger theory. She may very well have met her killer by chance that Friday.”
I nodded.
“There is also no mention of this L.A. trip she planned,” Ally continued.
“Mark Baker seemed to know about it,” I said. “The archived articles about the case did not mention a planned trip. I don’t think the police knew.”
“So, what do you think?” Ida Belle asked.
“The brochure and handwritten itinerary was in the same stack of papers that contained information about pot and sex,” I noted. “It was so carefully hidden the police never found it.”
“Meaning the police never knew Glory planned a trip to California,” Ally said.
“That’s right. Do any of you know Mark Baker?” I asked.
“I know someone named Mark Baker. He’s an accountant on Main Street,” Gertie said. “His firm is Baker Accounting. I used him to represent me in a tax audit two years ago. He looks to be between forty-five and fifty-years old, about the same age as Glory would be today had she lived. It could be the same man.”
“And we’re certain Mark was not a boyfriend?” I asked.
“Not if it’s the same Mark Baker who did my accounting,” Gertie replied. “He’s openly gay.”
“That would explain his platonic relationship with Glory,” Ally said.
“Frankly, it might also explain why Glory suffered no sexual assault,” I said. “If we’re going to re-look at a cold case, Mark should be a person of interest.”
“The police ruled him out,” Ida Belle reminded me.
“The police were not aware of Glory’s trip or that Mark knew about it and expressed displeasure about it,” I replied.
“And that additional information might make him a suspect, you think?” Gertie said.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Let’s go find out.”
“If it’s the same person. Mark Baker is a common name,” Ida Belle said. “Even in Sinful there may be more than one person with that name.”
“That must have been hard for him in those days,” I said. “Being gay in high school back in the eighties...”
“This is the deep south,” Ally said. “It’s not exactly a walk in the park today.”
“If this is the same Mark Baker I know, he didn’t come out of the closet until a few years ago,” Gertie said, interrupting. “He married a man. It caused quite the scuttlebutt in this small town.”
“I have a classroom.com account,” Ally said. “I can see if...”
“We won’t need that,” Ida Belle interrupted. She pulled a large book from an oversized bag which had been sitting on the floor beside her. It was the 1985 yearbook from Sinful High School. “I took it from Emma’s sofa table and stuffed in my bag while she was getting tea from the kitchen.”
“You thief,” Ally said. “She will miss that.”
“I’ll give it back,” Ida Belle said. She winked at Ally.
She flipped through the pages of the book. She found Mark Baker’s picture and turned it around toward me. Ally Googled Mark Baker and found his picture on the Baker Accounting website. She sat her phone on top of the book next to the yearbook picture. The Mark Baker in the modern-day picture had lost hair and gained weight but it was the same person from the high school yearbook. It was undeniable.
“Look at the note Mark wrote to her on the side of the page,” Ally noted.
She read the note aloud. “To my best friend ever, Juilliard is just a year away. Mark. I’m so excited.”
“This is the 1985 yearbook,” Gertie said. “It came out at the end of Glory’s junior year.”
“Isn’t Juilliard a music school?” Ally asked.
“They also have one of the best drama departments in the country,” Gertie replied. “Glory and Mark planned to go there together.”
“At one time, at least,” I said. “From the tone of Mark’s note, it sounded like Glory was having second thoughts...”
“I wonder how Mark felt about that?” Ally said.
“Maybe it made him angry,” Ida Belle suggested.
“Do we go speak with Mark?” Gertie asked.
“Yes, and we need to figure a way get the cold case files,” I said. “I want to read through the entire investigation.”
Ida Belle clapped her hands. “I know. I’ll call Betty Francis.”
“Who’s Betty Francis?” I asked.
“She manages the Auxiliary Property Room. She’s a friend of mine. The police consider the Glory Peterson matter a cold case, right? That’s where the cold case files are stored.”
“Do you think you can get those files?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” Ida Belle said.
“Not a chance in hell,” Gertie said finishing the sentence.
“What do you mean?” Ida Belle said.
“She’s not your friend,” Gertie said. “She hates you.”
“She does not hate me,” Ida Belle protested.
“I can’t believe you’ve forgotten?” Gertie said.
“Forgotten what?” she replied.
“I have two words for you,” Gertie said. “Tim Fontaine.”
Ida Belle reflected about Gertie’s statement. After a moment, she said, “Oh... Yeah, you’re right. She hates me, you’re right. Never mind.”
“Ladies, please,” I admonished. “Let’s focus.”
“What about this talent agent and the travel itinerary?” Ida Belle said. “Did she have an appointment with the Teller Agency? Did she have a tryout scheduled?”
“Audition,” I said.
“What?” Ida Belle replied.
“It’s called an audition, not a tryout.”
“Whatever. Well, what do you think?” Gertie said.
I pulled out my phone and began a Google search.
“You know what I think?” Ally said.
“What?” Ida Belle replied.
“I think it’s possible none of this had anything to do with Glory’s murder,” she said. “It’s possible that some total stranger wandered into town, ran into her at the soda fountain shop, struck up a conversation and quickly became infatuated. Maybe she encouraged him at first. We know she was a flirt. Maybe she went too far. He then tries to seduce her but gets shut down hard. So, he gets angry and murders her. It’s happened before. This Teller Talent Agency and the planned trip to L.A. could be a complete coincidence.”
“I think you’re wrong, Ally,” I said.
“What makes you say that?” she responded.
I turned my phone around so they could see the picture on the screen. I saw all three of them gasp as they looked at the elderly man in the photo.
“Who is that?” Gertie asked.
“Ladies, meet Steven Teller, President of the Teller Talent Agency,” I said.
“What is he wearing?” Ally asked.
“It’s a gray Fedora,” Gertie replied.
“How old is he?” Ida Belle asked.
“It doesn’t say,” Gertie replied. “He has to be between sixty-five and seventy, though, if not older.”
“That would have made him between thirty-five and forty when Glory was murdered,” Ida Belle replied. “It fits.”
“You found the murderer?” Ally gasped. “You found him like that.” She snapped her fingers for effect.
“Don’t get carried away,” I said. “The man in the gray Fedora will be a person of interest. We are a long way from proving it. I still want to talk to Mark Baker.”
“That’s true,” Ida Belle said. “Teller doesn’t look tall and doesn’t look well-built.”
“It’s a head shot,” I protested. “How do you look tall and well-built in a headshot? And this is what he looks like now, not thirty years ago.”
“I’m just saying,” Ida Belle retorted.
“And just because Mr. Teller is wearing a gray Fedora in this picture, doesn’t mean he was ever in Sinful,” I added.
“All true,” Gertie said.
“But it is a breakthrough, right?” Ally said. “It’s enough to take to the police to get the case reopened, right?”
“No. I think we need to visit Mark Baker first,” I replied. “In the letter he wrote to Glory, he knew she was planning a trip to L.A.”
“But Mark wasn’t thirty, he wasn’t a stranger, and he didn’t wear a gray Fedora,” Gertie said.
“I agree but I’ve seen odd coincidences,” I said. “Besides, we need to find out what else he knew.”
“I agree,” Ida Belle said. “When do we go?”
“There’s no time like the present,” Gertie said.
I nodded, “Let’s go.”