Deadly Readings Read online

  The image captured Susie during the Christmas season. Her pretty blonde hair was twisted into a French braid and her sparkly brown eyes were the perfect complement to her infectious smile. She was tickling a younger girl with one hand while her other arm rested casually across the shoulder of a young man who looked a little younger than Susie herself.

  “It’s so sad, isn’t it?”

  Elise wiped at the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks and glanced up from the photo to find Debbie, the office receptionist, peering over her shoulder, a frown tugging the woman’s pencil-thin lips downward.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what her family is going through right now,” Elise said before pausing to clear her throat in an effort to steady her voice. “I never thought I’d be facing a story like this so soon.”

  Debbie softly touched her shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”

  She hoped Debbie was right. But ever since the photograph had been dropped off at the paper, all Elise could do was stare at the victim.

  Reluctantly, she set the picture down and turned back to her computer. The cursor on the darkened screen blinked back at her in almost taunting fashion, its presence a reminder of all the stories she had to write before the end of the day.

  “How’s it going, Elise?”

  She looked up to see her new boss, Sam Hughes, standing beside her desk. His balding head was deceptive, leading people to believe he was much older than forty-something. But when it came to his personality, there were no mistakes to be made. Sam was one of those people who everyone instantly liked. Straightforward, yet sensitive. Humorous, yet serious. And most important, he understood her passion for writing.

  “It’s going okay, I guess. At least I want that to be the case.” She took a slow, measured breath and then continued, hoping against hope that what she had to say made sense. “When I used to dream about being a news reporter, I always imagined my first assignment being full of suspense and drama. And now, here I am, tasked with a murder story from the very start. It’s kind of surreal, you know?”

  He nodded his head, perching on the edge of her desk as he did. “I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a journalist who didn’t have that same dream. I know I sure did way back when. But then you start working and you realize those stories are a rarity in a town like Ocean Point. And by rarity, I pretty much mean nonexistent. So, with that in mind, I figured I’d be starting you out on something like a street repair or a school board meeting.”

  Sam nodded along with his own words, making Elise smile as he did. “Not batting real well right now, am I?” Before she could answer, he continued on, his gaze settling firmly on her face despite the busyness of the newsroom around them. “But I’ve got faith in you, Elise. You have the desire to tell a story and the heart to do so with compassion and dignity. And that’s a rare combination. A winning one in my book.”

  And there it was. The motivation to do the best job she could. If only her parents could have such genuine faith in her and her writing ability.

  But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. No, her parents had had higher hopes for their daughter—the kind of hopes she’d dashed the moment she opted to pursue journalism instead of the law degree her dad wanted and the medical degree her mom championed.

  It had never been about the money or the prestige for Elise. That had been the route her parents had taken with their lives. She wanted something different. Journalism was that different.

  Her parents just didn’t get that. And sadly, she wasn’t sure they ever would.

  Sam did, though, and she was determined to make him proud. She just needed to find a way to keep the self-doubt at bay long enough to convince her parents and everyone else that she had what it took to make a career for herself as a journalist—a journalist capable of covering any story that came her way. If she proved something to herself along the way, that would be even better. Ideal, even.

  Elise pulled a bag of pretzels from the bottom drawer of her desk and permitted herself a five-minute break. She had been going nonstop all week, savoring every moment of her first few days on the job. She was glad she had stuck to her guns and searched for jobs as far from Missouri as possible, with Ocean Point, New Jersey, fitting the bill perfectly.

  It hadn’t taken her long to see why the small ocean-side town was a favorite vacation spot for thousands of people each summer, with its clean beaches and family-style entertainment.

  There was something so refreshing about being near the ocean. And at the end of a long day spent soaking up rays and playing on the beach, it was hard not to be beckoned to play by the two amusement piers on the southern edge of town. The combination of rides, games, and fortune-tellers had proven to be a winning one for the vendors who set up shop there each year.

  Elise leaned back in her chair and popped a pretzel in her mouth. She had struck gold with her apartment. The one-bedroom unit was just a short walking distance to the beach and the landlord had given her permission to paint and decorate to her heart’s content.

  But she needed money to do that. And Grandma’s graduation check was just enough to survive two weeks in her new apartment before starting at the paper. It had given her time to relax, get organized, and work on her tan. Her evenings were set aside for poring over back issues of the Ocean Point Weekly that Sam had given her after she accepted the job in the hope she could begin to put names with faces sooner rather than later.

  When her first day at the paper had finally arrived, Elise had felt more than ready to face whatever challenges came her way. Or, at least she had until Susie Carlson was murdered.

  Now she had to figure out how to write about the murder in a way that didn’t relegate Susie to a mere victim.

  Susie Carlson had been a person. And it was Elise’s job as a reporter to portray her as such. Sure, she planned to tap into everything she’d learned in college, but she also wanted to prove to everyone that journalists could write with compassion and understanding while still providing the facts. It had been the driving force behind her choice of careers ever since her aunt’s accident and the trial by fire her uncle had gotten from the press.

  Elise shook her head softly and forced herself to concentrate on the screen in front of her. She didn’t have time for self-reflection. Not now, anyway.

  Glancing once again at the picture on the keyboard, she reached for the telephone on her desk and dialed the number for the Ocean Point Police Department.

  “Hi. This is Elise Jenkins with the Ocean Point Weekly. May I please speak with the detective in charge of the Susie Carlson case?”

  She twirled the phone cord around her finger and waited to be transferred to the correct person, the ensuing silence giving her extra time to formulate her thoughts.

  “Detective Mitch Burns. What can I do for you, Miss Jenkins?”

  “Elise, please,” she said. She wished her voice didn’t sound so nervous, so young. “I’m working on deadline right now and I wanted to see what kind of developments you may have for me in the Carlson murder investigation.”

  “Nothing to report at this time, but we’re examining every piece of evidence from the crime scene and I’m confident we’ll find the person who did this. Now, if that is all, Miss Jenkins, I have a lot of work to do.”

  She tried to remind herself that it had to be a stressful time for a detective, but she couldn’t hide the irritation she felt by the shortness in his tone.

  “That’s it for now, Detective, but I’ll be contacting you again soon.”

  She hung up the phone with authority, aware of the anger building inside her. She had given the police almost three full days without questions, working off a basic description of the crime from a department intern. Did the detective not realize the majority of reporters would have been in his face the second the body was found?

  “Elise? You have a minute?” Debbie yelled from across the room. “Susie Carlson’s obituary was just faxed over if you want to see it.”

  Elise pu
shed back her chair and walked over to the receptionist’s desk. It hadn’t taken long to realize that Debbie was the eyes and ears of the office. In fact, the woman was not only up on the goings-on around the office but the entire town, as well. In regular life, that kind of nosiness could grow old. But in a newspaper office it had the potential to come in handy. Especially for someone like Elise, who saw new everywhere she looked.

  Leaning over Debbie’s shoulder, she quickly skimmed the notice for anything that might be helpful. Some of the information she had already obtained, other parts were new.

  Out of college just three years, Susie had been pursuing a career in accounting at a firm in nearby Montville. One of five kids, she had been born and raised in Ocean Point. The funeral Mass was scheduled for the next morning at St. Theresa’s.

  When she’d gotten what she needed from the fax, Elise thanked the receptionist and made her way back to her desk. It was time to focus on all the other stories she was working for the next deadline. But somehow stories about the new mayor’s park proposal, a developer’s drive to build luxury condominiums, and the chief of police’s request for more manpower seemed so trivial compared to the town’s first murder . . .

  She looked again at the photograph of Susie Carlson, the young woman’s eyes looking back at her as if Elise had all the answers.

  “I’ll figure this out, Susie,” she whispered. “You can count on that.”

  Chapter Three

  Friday, June 11

  11:00 a.m.

  It was hard not to stare at the victim’s family. Their shock was still palpable, their grief still raw. But it was how each member of the Carlson family dealt with the pain that made Elise blink back her own set of tears.

  Mr. Carlson, who tried valiantly to be the rock his family needed, kept a protective arm around his wife throughout the service, providing a shoulder for her to weep into time and time again. Yet that same strong shoulder was unable to disguise the emotion he experienced at the priest’s reference to Susie as “Daddy’s little girl.”

  Mrs. Carlson looked down at her hands often throughout the service. And after a while, Elise finally figured out why. A small photograph was clutched in the woman’s left hand; a photograph, Elise assumed, depicting Susie.

  Despite a chin that was dipped downward, the youngest of the Carlson children repeatedly peeked at her sister’s mahogany casket from the corner of her eye, the disbelief in her young face finally giving way to a tortured sob that echoed through the church.

  “I would like to invite Michael up to the altar to share a few words about his sister.” Father Leahy stepped out from behind the lectern and extended his hand to a young man with auburn hair and tear-filled eyes.

  Elise recognized Michael from the photograph she had received at work. It had been evident to her even then how close the two seemed to be and her heart broke for him. Choking back tears, she watched him struggle to gain enough composure to speak to the crowd of people who had come to pay respect to his dead sister.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the young man began to speak. “I’ll never forget the time when I decided to pick on someone in my class because all my friends were.” The quiver in his voice was unmistakable, causing sniffles and soft crying sounds to emerge throughout the church. “When I got home that day, I felt a little guilty about what I had done. I told Susie about it and she told me something that has stuck with me ever since. She said that it’s easy to tease along with everyone else. To jump on the same wave everyone else is riding. But it takes a bigger person—a stronger one—to stand up and say it’s wrong.”

  Elise grabbed her purse and fished out a tissue. It was becoming harder and harder to swallow over the lump that was growing in her throat. She thought about her own high school years and the teasing she had endured for being a goody two-shoes. If only she had come across someone like Susie Carlson, maybe she wouldn’t have had to doubt herself so much.

  “It was like that all the time with Susie,” Michael continued, his hands gripping the sides of the lectern as his eyes rested on his parents. “I was terrified to go to high school. It seemed like such a big place after grade school. Most of my friends were switching to the public school so I felt really alone. When I got to school that first day, Elise and her friends made room for me at their table just so I wouldn’t have to eat lunch by myself. How many big sisters would do that for their kid brother?”

  Elise looked up at the ceiling of the church and steadied her breathing. If he didn’t stop talking soon, she was going to start sobbing. She could feel it coming. Counting to ten in her head, she forced herself to think of something, anything besides the young man’s heartbreaking words. But when she reached the last number, she realized Michael had grown silent.

  She looked back at the altar in time to see the now college-aged boy point to a young girl in the third row.

  “Maureen, you’ve been Susie’s best friend for as long as I can remember. She truly loved you with her whole heart.”

  Elise saw the corner of the young woman’s mouth turn upward in a trembling smile, only to reverse course and give into heart-wrenching sobs. Swiping at the tears that made their way down her own face, Elise willed herself to stay strong as the first few notes of the closing hymn reverberated their way out from the organ.

  She tried to sing along with the familiar words, but her voice sounded weak and raspy. Instead, she watched Susie’s loved ones as they followed the casket down the aisle, grief etched into the face of everyone she saw.

  When the procession finally made its way to the back of the church, she grabbed her handbag and headed for one of the side exits. She had to pull it together if she was going to be able to interview anyone.

  As she stepped out into the brilliant sunshine, she came face-to-face with the town’s new mayor, Steve Brown. His closely cut hair had obviously been black at one time, as a few reminders of his youth peeked through the silver that virtually covered his entire head. Piercing brown eyes searched and examined every face that passed. The pictures Elise had studied of him prior to their first meeting at the town hall hadn’t done justice to the commanding presence he emitted in person.

  “Good morning, Mayor Brown.”

  “Good morning, Miss Jenkins.”

  She reached into her purse and retrieved her notebook from its depths. “Would it be possible for me to get some sort of statement from you on Susie’s murder?”

  “Certainly. The entire community of Ocean Point is grieving along with the Carlson family today as they prepare to lay their beloved daughter to rest. What a horrible shame this all is to her parents.”

  “Thank you, Mayor.” Elise scanned the crowd, looking for another quote. She could feel the lump in her throat dissipating as she focused on her work.

  Her eyes fell on the town’s police chief. With several quick strides she found herself face-to-face with the tall uniformed man she had seen only in pictures.

  “Chief Maynard, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Elise Jenkins, the new reporter for the Ocean Point Weekly.”

  The tall, burly man smiled and extended his hand. “Welcome to Ocean Point, Elise. I wish your first week could have been a bit calmer.”

  “That makes two of us.” The grin that stretched across her face felt good. She only wished that the Carlson family could smile again soon. “I was hoping to get a statement from you about the Susie Carlson murder.”

  “Sure thing, Elise. What happened to Susie Carlson this week is unforgivable, and we will work day and night until we’ve found the person who committed this horrific crime.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  “May I add one more thing?” At her nod, the chief continued. “I would like to point out that this crime, although a first in Ocean Point, is one very good example of why we could use some more police officers on the beat. We are a town that relies on our summer tourism quite heavily, and it would be very shortsighted of us to risk that much-needed income because we don’t want to pr
operly staff our police department.”

  Elise jotted down the chief’s comments then noticed that he was looking around the church grounds, as if searching for someone in particular. When he found who he was searching for, he shot his hand upward in a beckoning gesture.

  Sure enough, a man Elise judged to be about her own age stepped through the mingling crowd and headed in their direction. She tried not to gawk, but it was hard. The man was more than a little attractive . . .

  “Elise Jenkins, I’d like you to meet the detective in charge of the Carlson murder investigation—Mitch Burns.”

  “Detective Burns.” She bridged the gap between them and offered her hand while her eyes finished their visual inventory. Mitch Burns was handsome, of that there was no doubt. His eyes, which were a shade lighter than the brown of his hair, widened to showcase the tiny flecks of gold that danced along with the smile she saw creeping across his face.

  “Ahhh, Miss Jenkins . . . I’m sorry for being so short with you on the phone yesterday. I really appreciate you holding out on that initial call until after I had a chance to come up for air. Unfortunately, when you did call, I think I may have let all of the week’s stress run rampant in my voice. Sorry about that.”

  She was surprised at how glad she was to hear the detective’s apology.

  “I understand. I really do. But I hope you understand that I’ve got a job to do, too.”

  He nodded his head in what appeared to be a gesture of appreciation and then excused himself curtly, saying only that he had to head back to the station.

  For some reason she was disappointed to see him go, yet couldn’t ignore his on-again, off-again personality. Just when it seemed as if the ice was breaking, he froze up again. Men.