I gave Hank’s and my talk some thought as I drove to Kalamazoo. I’m not the same person who left Blue Gil six years ago. Maybe it’s time for me to recognize that others have changed too.
Going back to the couch, I open my computer bag. Pulling out my phone, I create a hot spot, open my notebook, and turn on my laptop. Within minutes, I’m lost in my research.
My list of questions continues to grow as I try to go through each individual case.
First, I create a profile on Craig Gilbert. I add both what I know and what I’ve heard. Hearsay isn’t permissible in court, but in life and in Blue Gil, it is right up there with gospel. I look at connections with the other victims. Most obviously, he taught at the school where the girls attended.
Second, I write what I know about my sister. Sadly, it isn’t much.
She’s had a difficult year—a broad statement.
She was accepted to Michigan State and decided instead to go to KVCC—a community college—while living at home. She and her boyfriend, Austin, broke up. Who broke up with whom? Becky said they’d been hot and heavy. Is there a connection between the breakup and her decision not to move away for school? How are her grades? Have they changed for the worse or better? For connections, she and Marty were good friends, and Craig was a teacher at their school.
Lastly, I write what I know about Marty Thompson. Her real name is Martha. She worked at Sanders Feed on weekends. Hearsay says that she came on to at least one married man. She also had dark hair and perky breasts. She and Julie were friends, and they both attended Blue Gil High School where Craig taught.
In a sad way, it seems like I know more about Marty than my own sister.
Eyes.
Julie has hers. Craig and Marty don’t.
Was Marty conscious when they were removed? Did she fight? How about defensive wounds?
I look up at Julie. Are any of her bandages covering defensive wounds or only lacerations and bites?
In my head I see the production of an hour-long episode. This mindset is easier because it isn’t real. It isn’t my sister’s friend but an actress. She’s sprawled out on the shed floor beside Julie—who too is played by an actress. Both girls are unconscious. Marty’s hair is a tangled mess. Julie’s red hair is fanned overthe filthy floor. The blood in the scene is fake. The eyeballs lying near Marty are replicas.
Was she in the gardening shed?
It makes sense in my mind, but it hasn’t been confirmed. If she were, there would be trace evidence on her person, such as mouse feces and dead insects in her hair. Then again, that evidence could also have come from the swale.
I write more questions.
Staring at my notes, I think about a Venn diagram. We often use them when brainstorming story lines to show all possible logical relationships.
Julie and Marty are both seniors in high school. They both attend Blue Gil High School where Craig Gilbert taught. All three live or lived in Blue Gil. That seems to be the center of my diagram.
The two girls were friends and attended the same party on Saturday night.
Craig didn’t attend the party.
Who did and who didn’t?
I make a note to give Theo Morton another visit and discuss the Saturday night crowd at the Walleye Tavern. He isn’t the only one I can ask. Keith Gilbert said he had been at the party for a brief period of time.
As an outsider, he probably wouldn’t know many of the partygoers’ names, but as a detective, he may have a better memory than most. Keith is worth asking.
I’m startled as the door to Julie’s room moves inward.
“I brought you a drink,” Michelle says softly as sheenters with a smile. She looks at my notebook as she hands me the cup. “What are you doing?”
“It’s work,” I say as I close the folder, unwilling to share my thoughts.
“What you do must be exciting.”
“It can be.” I place the cup on a nearby table as the door opens again.
Chapter
