Chapter 66

Mr. Glenn’s eyes washed out, they all settled back in their places, Mr. Glenn a safe distance from Owen and the sand, Frances Noonan and Alma Gordon back under the tree, now enjoying some of Frances’s cheese biscuits.

Frances saw Serena’s letter and picked it up.

“I looked one more time at your pictures,” Serena wrote. “I’m not sure, but the one of George the maintenance man looks familiar. We had a groundskeeper at our country club that looked a little like him but was much heavier. He would have had to lose a lot of weight. I don’t remember his name. I’m embarrassed to say I may not have ever known. But I heard from a girlfriend who used to visit me in jail in Chicago (when I still had girlfriends that would visit me), that he had a heart attack and was pretty sick. He might even have died. So it’s probably not him anyway. I know you wanted anything I could remember.”

Mrs. Noonan handed the letter to Alma. “What do you think of this?”

She watched Alma read the letter. Alma lifted her iced tea glass to her lips and took a sip. Then her eyes opened wide. She dropped the glass. It shattered on the gray stone patio.

“What, what?” Mrs. Noonan said.

“It’s him!” said Mrs. Gordon.

Mr. Glenn rushed over at the sound of the glass breaking. “Alma, are you okay?”

“Albert, this is the man you talked to about his heart attack. It’s him!” Mrs. Gordon thrust her hand out to him, passing him the letter. “Your oh-so-fit maintenance man is the killer! He was in Chicago with Serena and he’s here now at this resort where the Blackwells and the Stalks stayed. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Those poor children.”

“Sarah. Helen.” Mrs. Noonan’s mouth was dry. “Sarah and Helen are there.”

“What?” said Mrs. Gordon. “They’re back there? Now?”

“We’ve got to reach them. Alma, where’s the telephone?”

“It won’t help,” Mrs. Gordon said. “Sarah tried to use her cellular phone while we were there, and she didn’t get any reception. The only telephone is the one at the desk.”

“Okay, but if he somehow answers, hang up,” Mrs. Noonan said.

Mrs. Gordon retrieved the resort brochure she’d given to Sylvia, and they all crowded around the phone while she dialed.

“Please leave a message.”

“Oh, no. This happened to me before. It’s a small place. There’s no one there,” Mrs. Gordon said.

“How about the police?” said Mr. Glenn.

“The police?” said Mrs. Noonan. “I don’t know what we’d say. We think this man is a killer because a convicted murderess remembers a man who looked like him but was much heavier and might be dead anyway? Oh, it’s too complicated. I don’t think the police can help.”

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Gordon.

“I guess we don’t really have much to go on. And the Stalks were at the resort, but Shelley was killed in Philadelphia. That’s a long way away. George would have had to travel to Philadelphia for there to be a connection. But if we’re right, Helen is in danger. We have to make sure they’re all right.”

“Philadelphia?” Mr. Glenn said.

“Shelley and Joseph Stalk in Philadelphia. She was strangled in her car,” Mrs. Noonan reminded him.

“George is from Philadelphia, remember? He’s a Phillies fan.” Mr. Glenn practically bounced up and down.

“What?” Mrs. Noonan felt like fainting, herself.

Mr. Glenn burst out in excitement again. “He’s a Phillies fan. From Philadelphia. Still goes to ball games there. That’s your connection.”

Mr. Glenn stopped bouncing. They all stared at each other.

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Gordon.

Baby Owen toddled over, and Mr. Glenn held out his arm to keep him from the broken glass. Owen reached up and touched the letter. “Oh, dear,” Owen said.

“Everybody, quick, get in the car!” Mrs. Noonan’s heart pounded. “We’ll drive there!”