Chapter Thirty-Four

So Close It Bites

Bill

During the week, the Reynolds went their separate ways with their work and school obligations. They had asked me if I wanted anything, but I told them not to worry about me. It was just a waiting game. I’d find something to keep me busy. I called Evelyn DeMarco on Monday morning to take her to lunch. Instead, she invited me to her house.

It was very easy to talk to Evelyn. She told me about her husband Anthony and how his sudden death had devastated Grace and her. He had been the picture of health before the deadly attack. She told me she completely understood how I couldn’t cope with life after the deaths of my family.

Evelyn and I got together several times during the week. We went riding a few days; we saw a few movies; and we walked around the mall. It helped pass the time. Besides, I sincerely enjoyed her company.

I had also made a “private” appointment with Doug Plimpton to discuss some personal business I didn’t want the Reynolds to know about. I made out a new will, making them the beneficiaries of my estate.

When Saturday arrived, the group gathered in the living room to hear what Sean and Joel had discovered. Sean started with Trudy Prout. “It’s possible Prout knew nothing about her inheritance at the time of the murders, still leaving a question about her innocence. I’m not sure she would’ve been physically able to commit the crimes on her own, like dragging Bill’s unconscious body into that crawlspace. Or how can the rape of Mrs. Gunderson be explained? So, if she were involved, she couldn’t have done it alone.

“As for Herbert Worthington, nothing in his past indicates he had anything to do with the crime. His firm has been successful since the early sixties, and he comes from a prominent family in the Miami area. There is no reason to look any further into him.

“Next, Horace McIntire. One of our attractive, female detectives followed him to a fast-food restaurant. She talked to him and gave him a fake telephone number. When he left the restaurant, she grabbed the disposable cup and utensils from his table, putting them in a bag concealed in her purse. We’ve submitted them to the lab for DNA and fingerprints. So we’re still looking at McIntire and perhaps Prout as his accomplice. If his DNA and fingerprints are matches to what we have on file, we’ll charge him with the murders and look further into Prout’s involvement.

“Now for Edgar Fitzsimmons. We went to Atlanta to talk to his widow. Cora Fitzsimmons told us her Edgar, originally from Cleveland, Ohio, had never even been to Florida. He had no other relatives with the same name as he, so she couldn’t see how anyone in Edgar’s family could be involved. When I asked her if her husband had ever been away from the family for long periods, she said they always took vacations together. His job never required any travel. When I got back to Nawinah, I checked out her information. That Edgar Fitzsimmons couldn’t be our suspect. It was discouraging, but we didn’t give up.

“Joel, do you want to tell them what happened next?”

Joel cleared his throat. “We talked with Phil Drummond and Glen Myers again to see if they either socialized with Fitzsimmons or knew somebody who did. Drummond and Myers both said they remembered Fitzsimmons talking about hanging out at a bar outside of town called the Dirty Dungeon.”

“Yes, I know that place,” I interrupted. “Dan and I stopped there once in a while. I remember seeing Fitzsimmons on occasion.”

Joel continued. “The owner of the Dirty Dungeon, Jimmy Caldwell, died several years ago, but his son, Jimmy Junior, ran the business until the property was sold. As a college student, he had also helped when his dad owned the place. When we talked to him about Fitzsimmons, he remembered him. He said Fitzsimmons was a friendly guy, never getting drunk or causing any issues. Fitzsimmons often talked to that weirdo who lived out on the edge of town. Jimmy knew his first name was Horace but didn’t remember his last name.

“Then we did an extensive search for Edgar Fitzsimmons, again coming up empty-handed. It was as if he’d vanished from the face of the earth. No death notices, marriage applications, or real estate purchases, nothing at all. We found no record of any Edgar or Dorothy Fitzsimmons living in Huntsville at that time. We also found no record of Fitzsimmons working for the Limestone County Sheriff’s Department as he had claimed on his Orange County application. Therefore, we came to the conclusion Edgar Fitzsimmons must’ve changed his name and lied or forged documents to get the job with the Nawinah Sheriff Department.”

My mind started spinning. Could Edgar Fitzsimmons be Clay Jackson, the assassin who killed my family? Then I put the facts together. Clay Jackson had contacted Mom. She didn’t answer his letter. Somehow, he must’ve found out she was also my mother, and I was his half-brother. He must’ve found all of this out before he decided to move to Nawinah. How could he have become a deputy? He had worked in the department for several years, keeping a low profile. I had come in contact with him so often during that time on personal and professional occasions totally unaware of who he really was. He must’ve planned his evil crime for years, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

This was too much for me. I was getting short of breath and sweating profusely. I felt like I was going to pass out! My chest felt very heavy, like a vise was squeezing it from both sides!