Sticks and Stones Read online

  STORK SANITATION AND WASTE REMOVAL

  THE COMPETITION CAN’T TOUCH OUR JOBS

  “I came up with the slogan,” Stork said with a smile. “Do you get it? The waste products Harry handled were toxic. So you couldn’t touch any of it. I thought it was clever.” Leaning forward, he again took a sip of his tea.

  Leah nodded. “It is.” She set the photo back where it had been and sat down again. “May I ask you about your wife?”

  Stork put his right arm along the top of the davenport again. “Not much to tell. She was a good woman, just had to deal with too much. It was one thing putting up with Tommy’s problems, but when Harry came back it just became too much. Still”—his eyes gleamed, and Leah realized tears now stood in them—“I never thought she would . . .” He faded out, wiping his eyes with his right forearm. “I’m sorry, Detective. It’s still hard.”

  “Please don’t apologize,” Leah said. She was starting to feel bad about disrupting this man’s day. “I haven’t got to the report yet concerning the details of what, exactly, happened to her. I understand it was . . . sleeping pills?”

  “Yeah, almost a whole month’s prescription.” Stork seemed to have regained most of his composure. “We’ll never be sure what time she did it, but Tommy found her in her room around about three o’clock. I was down in Mobile at the time. Didn’t come back until two hours later. Tommy was out of his skin by then. He had no idea what to do. He hadn’t even called the police.”

  “I see,” Leah said, jotting down some notes.

  “Tommy was living here at the time?” she asked. “Does he still live here?”

  Stork sighed. “Not anymore, but yes, he did live with me quite some time after the government funding he got from his accident ran out.”

  “This is the construction accident?” Leah asked. “When he lost his fingers?”

  “That’s the only ‘accident’ my son ever had, Detective.”

  “Oh, I was referring to the . . . his face. You know, the—”

  “I wouldn’t call that an ‘accident.’ Tommy liked to fight and he picked fights on purpose. I believe he deserves that gash as much as any Boy Scout deserves a merit badge.”

  Leah raised her eyebrows. This response surprised her.

  Stork obviously read her face. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Detective. I love—well, in Harry’s case, I guess ‘loved’ is more accurate—both my boys as much as any man can. And God knows their ma liked to dote on both of them. But I won’t lie. When you spend as much time as I have living with your grown-up child, certain . . . animosities is the word, I suppose . . . begin to arise. It’s unfortunate, really. Tommy and I rarely talk anymore now. I’m lucky if I see him even once a year. There was a time I saw him near on every single waking hour of every day. It was too much, I reckon.” He paused for a moment and then changed topics. “You know something? I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out where I’ve seen you before. I just figured it out. You’re the one who was interviewed in the Examiner a couple weeks back, right?”

  Leah felt her cheeks redden. “That was me, yes.” She smiled thinly.

  “It was a good article. I remember now. You talked a lot about your pa. He was the man who shot my boy, isn’t that right?”

  Leah narrowed her eyes, trying to discern even the slightest hint of anger in his response. She couldn’t find any. “Yes, that’s right,” she said quietly.

  Shaking his head dramatically, Stork said, “Well, isn’t that something. Sure is a small world. Now there’s a new Stickman case and you’re the one investigating it. Doesn’t it feel like things have come full circle?”

  Once again she raised her eyebrows. “I . . . I guess it does. Haven’t had time to really think about it that closely.”

  “I remember the piece in the paper. You have two children, right?”

  Suddenly, Leah felt like she was the one being interviewed. “That’s right.”

  “And if I’m remembering correctly, you lost your husband, too?”

  “You have a good memory, Mr. Stork.”

  “Eidetic,” he said then clarified. “Photographic.”

  Leah nodded. “I know what eidetic means.”

  “Sorry,” Stork said, raising his palm. “No offense intended.”

  “None taken. And yeah, so because of losing my Billy, I can sympathize pretty well with what happened to your wife.”

  His lips tightened. He dropped his gaze to the coffee table. “It was a goddamn shame,” he said. “She was a good woman. You know”—his eyes lifted to Leah—“you don’t really know how good some things are until they’re gone.”

  Leah stared past him out the window and allowed her mind to settle on Billy for a second or two before coming back to the room. “How long ago did Tommy move out?”

  “Oh, let me think. I believe he left summer of 1978.”

  Leah smiled at this. “Thought you had a photographic memory?”

  “I do. For important things. Exactly when Tommy left isn’t that important. What is, is that he did.”

  “Where did he move to?”

  “Oh, up near Birmingham. About ten miles outside of town.”

  This surprised Leah. “Why Birmingham?” she asked. “Why didn’t he stay in Alvin? Far as I could tell from the reports, up until the time they were issued he’d spent his whole life here, hadn’t he?”

  “I honestly don’t know what goes through that boy’s head, but I have some guesses. First, he went up that way quite often even while he lived with me. I asked him what the hell he did there, but he never gave me a direct answer. For a while, I thought maybe he had a girlfriend that a way, but he’s not really the girlfriend type. I think, maybe, he felt the strain on our relationship just as much as I did, and he figured he should just get away. That’s my best guess.”

  Leah got ready to write. “Can I have his address?”

  “Well, he’s not in Birmingham anymore. He actually did eventually come back down here. I assume you want his current address?”

  “Yes,” Leah said. “Please.”

  He gave it to her, right off the top of his head. Tommy lived in the northern part of town, on Rodman Road, an area about as far away from his pa’s as you could get and still be in Alvin.

  “And his telephone number?” Leah asked.

  “That one I can’t give you. It keeps changing and, last I heard, his service was cut off again, so he’s either still without a phone or he has a number he hasn’t given me yet.”

  “How long ago was it you last heard from him?”

  “October of last year. He never contacts me, I always have to go to him. Even when he was up in Birmingham, I had to take the initiative to visit and call him when I wanted to talk. He’s not that social, if you know what I mean.”

  Leah nodded.

  A pregnant silence followed, feeling awkward as Stork’s attention went up to that photo on the mantel. Leah knew his thoughts had gone back to Harry. “You know, there are days I sure do miss him,” he said.

  “I understand that,” Leah said, trying to sound sympathetic. Reality was, she did feel sorry for him.

  “You know, your department brought Tommy in for questioning two weeks before they went for Harry. I had no idea what was going on. It sure felt like the police had singled out our family.” He paused, pulling his eyes away from the photo and bringing them back to her. “Still does sometimes.”

  “Yes, well, a witness who knew Tommy gave a statement saying he saw him at one of the murder scenes.” Leah didn’t want to stumble over the fact that she didn’t know the exact details of what happened during that interview—why, exactly, her pa’s suspicions fell away from Tommy and settled instead on Harry.

  “I know, Detective. But that witness and Tommy had a long history of not liking each other very much. He was part of that bar fight Tommy got in—a friend of the one who gave my boy that scar.”

  “So this . . . acquaintance, this witness . . . you think he lied in his statement?”
r />   Stork nodded. “I would say so.”

  Well, Leah knew something had changed her pa’s mind about Tommy, and what Leah just heard could very well be true. She stood from her chair. “I think I’ve taken up enough of your time, Mr. Stork.”

  He waved the comment away. “Think nothing of it,” he said. “I like the company. I don’t spend a lot of time talking with folk. Not since Tommy left.”

  She smiled sadly. “I’m sorry your relationship with him isn’t as good as it could be.”

  “Oh, it’s not as bad as I am probably making it seem. I just . . . ever since Harry’s death, I can’t help but keep comparing the two in my head. They’re just so different. You know, Tommy would’ve been drafted, too, if he hadn’t been designated 4-F on account of his accident.”

  Leah nodded. “I read that.”

  “You realize he got that accident ten days before Harry was drafted. Sometimes I think about that a bit.”

  “How so?” Leah asked.

  He raised a dubious eyebrow. “Seems a bit of a coincidence to me, is all. I’m not a man who likes coincidences, Detective.”

  And on what turned out to be a string of points, Leah once again found herself agreeing with what Noah Stork said. She walked back to her car, thinking over how much she’d felt drawn to him. They had a lot in common, a lot of similar views.

  She wondered if she’d feel anywhere close to the same about Tommy when she interviewed him.

  CHAPTER 10

  Dan Truitt, detective from the Birmingham Police Department, arrived at the Alvin Police Department. Leah had just gotten back from her interview with Noah Stork. She had only taken two sips of her coffee when her paramour from up north showed up.

  It wasn’t even noon.

  “Knock, knock,” Dan said, opening the door. “The party’s here.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Leah said.

  “Do what?”

  “Drive like an imbecile. Being an hour later wouldn’t have killed you.” She had called him just before leaving the house this morning and he had told her he was just about to head out. That was almost ten o’clock.

  “Yeah, well, just be glad I’m not drunk. Then I would’ve been here a half hour ago.”

  She hit him in the chest. “You’re such an idiot.”

  Dan Truitt wore a white collared shirt tucked into olive drab khakis. His hair, though thinning, was a very light blond, so it was hard to see the baldness from the hair. His eyes were a translucent blue that Leah often found herself getting lost in. Dan always reminded Leah a little of the Professor from Gilligan’s Island.

  “You alone?” he asked her.

  Leah looked toward Chief Montgomery’s office, where the door was closed along with the blinds. “Ethan’s in there, probably watching whatever sport is on right now. Chris is out for lunch, I believe. I actually just got here. I was on an interview. Why?”

  Dan took her in his arms and for a moment they shared a kiss. They’d been in a relationship since Christmas, and there was no longer any point in trying to hide it, even though they still did their best.

  The kiss lasted a good minute.

  “That’s why,” Dan said.

  “I think Chris should go for lunch more often,” Leah said. “I like the way you kiss.” She walked over to the coffee machine. “Want a cup? I just brewed a new pot.”

  “Sure. It’s not a bad day for coffee. Been cooling off since Wednesday.”

  “I hear they’re calling for rain tomorrow,” Leah said, pouring two mugs full. She added cream to Dan’s and brought both mugs back to where he was standing in front of her desk. She handed the cream-filled one to him.

  “Rain,” Dan said. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” They both looked out the window. The sun twinkled brightly off the chrome of a light blue Buick parked outside the station.

  “One of the weather channels said thunderstorms, actually,” Leah said.

  “Well, that’s probably more likely. The Lord seems to hate Alabama. We’ll probably get smited by a twister in four days.”

  “Don’t say that. Stranger things have happened. And I think the word is smote.”

  Dan walked around and took a seat in Chris’s chair. Leah sat in hers. “So,” he said, “I’m dying to know what’s happening in your case.”

  “Not much. I made some calls and confirmed that, in the last few months, nobody’s been let out of a local federal correctional institution or the Louisiana State Penitentiary or the Federal Penitentiary in Atlanta. At least nobody they suspect would be a serial killer.”

  “They said that? Nobody we suspect would be a serial killer?”

  “No, not in so many words.”

  “Thank God. For a moment there, I thought the world went crazy. Nobody expects people to be serial killers. They’re usually the ones you expect the least. The quiet ones who keep to themselves.”

  “At any rate, I didn’t come up with any names or anythin’,” Leah said.

  “Well, it was a good try.” Dan took a sip of his coffee before placing the mug on Chris’s desk.

  “Ethan and Chris lifted a print Tuesday. Mobile’s still looking for a match with anyone in the system. Probably be a while till they’re done.”

  Dan picked up his mug again, went to take a sip, but instead returned it to the desk. “Do you have to brew this so hot? There should be a setting for temperature on those machines.”

  Leah was already nearly done with hers. “It’s not that hot,” she said. “I even put cream in yours. You’re just a baby.”

  “I’m your baby,” he said, the fluorescent lights glimmering in his eyes.

  Leah felt that pang in her stomach. The I’m in love pang she hadn’t felt for so long. “Yes,” she said, “I guess you are.”

  They both fell silent. Leah’s gaze fixed on her coffee mug.

  “What’s wrong?” Dan asked.

  “I dunno,” she said. “Just . . . I keep thinkin’ about, what if my pa was wrong? What if he shot an innocent man?”

  “Now, you don’t know Stork was innocent, yet. He had a gun and he was runnin’.”

  Her chest heaved. She lifted her eyes back to Dan’s. She felt tears come to them. She didn’t want them to—didn’t want Dan to see her get emotional—but she couldn’t stop them.

  “Come here,” Dan said, getting up. He knelt down beside her chair and took her in his arms. “It’s goin’ to be okay.”

  She pulled away. “How? How is any of this okay? What if my pa shot the wrong man?”

  “What if? Listen, we’re goin’ to catch this guy,” Dan promised. “Whether he’s the original Stickman or a copycat killer, we’re goin’ to get him.”

  Leah pulled away. “And what if it takes us a year and a half and he takes nine more victims like happened the first time ’round? I can’t deal with that, Dan.”

  “Yes, you can. It’s your job.”

  “I can’t do it. Too many people die.”

  “Leah, listen. You can’t save the world. The best you can do is the best you can do. The rest of the time you need to let it out of your head. Otherwise it’ll drive you crazy. Why do you think I drink so damn much? I know sometimes it’s hard not to take things personal.”

  She looked at him, knowing her own blue eyes were swimming in tears. “This one is personal. At least it was. Personal between my pa and Harry Stork . . . A man who wasn’t even . . .” She paused, unable to finish the sentence. “And now the letters are coming to me. With my name on the front. Don’t you understand, Dan? This is as goddamn personal as it can get.”

  Her words broke apart again. Dan Truitt pulled her in close and ran his fingers through her hair. There was nothing left to say or do. He just knelt there and let her cry herself out.

  “We’ll figure it all out,” Dan said. “It’s just goin’ to take a little time. But we’ll figure it out.”

  “Well, we need to answer some questions. Two big ones, to be exact,” Leah said. “One: Why did the killin’s st
op after my pa killed Harry Stork? Just to make it look like he was the Stickman? And two: Why have they started again now, fifteen years later, seemingly out of the blue?”

  “Yep,” Dan said, “those are the big questions. Maybe we’ll have some luck finding answers with the squealers Ethan wants us to interview.”

  “I sure hope so, Dan.” Leah felt a stone turn in her gut at the thought of her pa killing an innocent man, especially on a case that, for many people, was his legacy. “I sure hope so.”

  At that moment, Chris walked in the door.

  “Hey . . .” he started, then noticed the state Leah was in. “Everything okay?”

  Dan nodded. “Yeah, we’re just havin’ a moment.”

  Chris walked around to the other side of his desk. Dan moved around Leah so Chris could get in his chair. Lifting Dan’s mug, Chris asked, “This belong to you?”

  “Yeah,” Dan said, taking it from him. “Thanks.”

  Leah wiped her tears away.

  “You goin’ to be okay?” Dan asked.

  She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “I might be able to cheer you up a bit,” Chris said to Leah. “I have some news.”

  “What’s that?” Leah asked, her voice still tearstained. She hated feeling weak.

  “You asked me to check for any juvie records for Harry Stork? Well, I did that this morning. And sure enough, bogies hit the radar.”

  Dan’s eyebrows went up. “Thought his record was spotless?”

  “His adult record is,” Chris replied, lifting a paper full of scribbled notes from beside his keyboard. “Turns out he did a year at the Mobile County Youth Center in 1960. He actually went before a judge twice that year, both times for breakin’ and enterin’. First time he got a year’s probation. Then, exactly three months later, neighbors reported seeing him climb through a window after he smashed it. Cops chased him down the street while he ran from the sirens, a stereo system in one hand, a crowbar in the other.” Chris laughed.