“Yes, of course, so let me explain why we’re here. I know Kay was at the last clean-up, and we think she found something that may have to do with her murder.”
“What?” Alex asked, alarmed, and Courtney told him about the missing basket of objects. “So do you know what she found last Sunday?”
“No.” Alex shook his head, nonplussed. “I can’t imagine what it would be. All we ever find is trash. People dump trash here, Centralia, and Byrnesville. They don’t want to drive to New Dover and pay the fee. It’s random stuff, but it’s nothing valuable.”
“Damn.” Courtney pursed her lips. “Did she say anything to you about finding something last Sunday?”
“No, sorry.” Alex frowned. “I barely talked to her except to say hello. I’m so busy at the clean-ups. I work with the younger people hauling tires. We had nine volunteers last weekend, mostly regulars and a few newbies.”
“The state police found a ghost gun they think was the murder weapon. Have you ever found anything like that?”
“Whoa, hi-tech,” Alex said, taken aback. “No, we never found a ghost gun, but we’ve found conventional guns that we turned over to the police. Last one we found had the registration scraped off, so it could have been used in a crime. The cops never called me to testify, so I don’t know if they followed up.”
“Did she have any friends at the clean-ups?”
“She was friendly with everybody, but her big buddy was Samuel Palkovich. He’s about her age, and most of the people who come are younger. Hold on, I take pictures at the clean-ups to post on social and I have one from the clean-up at McGlinchey’s.” Alex started typing on his laptop, then turned it around. “This is Kay and Samuel, last weekend.”
Courtney and Julia eyed a photo that showed a grinning Kay sitting atop a mound of black tires with an aging hippie with a long gray beard, a gray sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and a jaunty red beret. Behind them was a rusted blue dumpster.
Courtney sniffled. “Oh, look at her, so cute.”
“I’m sorry, that was insensitive.” Alex’s face fell, and he turned the laptop away.
“No, it’s great to see her. I bet that’s the last photo of her.” Courtney wiped her eyes, and Julia took over to give her a break.
“Alex, do you think that Kay told Samuel whatever it was she found?”
“It’s likely. He comes as regularly as she does.” Alex paused. “I love Samuel, but he’s quite a character, not that easy to get along with. He’s from an old mining family, here for generations. Kay was the only person who put up with him. Sometimes his advocacy slid into zealotry, given the history of this place. You know about the mine fire, right?”
“Yes.” Julia thought back to her fiery vision but let it go.
“To his credit, Samuel was instrumental in helping us enact a no-dumping ordinance, with conviction punishable by a twenty-five-thousand-dollar fine. He chronicled every dump site for over eight years. We even have a hotline now, so people can report illegal dumping.” Alex’s generous mouth fell into sad lines. “This place breaks your heart. It’s not easy to see your hometown wiped off the map. I grew up in Byrnesville, and now all that’s left is the shrine to the Blessed Virgin Mary. By the way, I’m Jewish.” Alex forced a smile, then it faded. “We ended up being a prime example of how negligence and corruption in dealing with an environmental disaster causes an even worse disaster. When politicians sell out to corporations, residents are left holding the bag, then it turns out to be empty.”
“I’m sure,” Julia said, meaning it. She’d found herself thinking a lot lately about the importance of hometowns, and whether hers was here or in Tuscany.
“The point is that Samuel was angry at the government and at people who dump trash in our towns, and sometimes, at the world in general. He’s a contrarian, I guess you would say.”
“Can you give us his contact information?”
“Sure, but if you want, I’ll call him now. He still has a flip phone.He doesn’t text, either.” Alex smiled in an indulgent way. “I’ll introduce you, then you can talk to him.”
“Great, thanks.” Courtney rallied, and they both shifted forward as Alex scrolled through his phone, then pressed Call. The phone rang and rang, then went to an automated voicemail.
Alex frowned. “He’s probably outside. I’ll leave a message but God knows if he’ll get it. He never checks them.” He continued, into the phone, “Samuel, this is Alex, please call me back ASAP. It’s important. I’m here with Courtney, Kay’s granddaughter, and her friend Julia. Thanks. Bye.”
Julia felt disappointed, thinking that if Samuel and Kay were at the clean-up together, it was more than likely that she had told him what she found.
Alex ended the call. “On second thought, the best way to reach him is to go there. He lives alone, and his cabin is at the top of Mount Skye. He calls himself the fool on the hill.” He rose, with a hopeful smile. “If you have the time, I can take you there.”
20
Samuel!” Alex knocked on the old wooden door, and Courtney and Julia stood behind him. The cabin was small and decrepit, with weathered cedar shakes, missing shutters, and a sagging roofline. The property was barely cleared in front, clumped with underbrush. Thick evergreens blocked the sun, so the air felt cool and oddly damp.
“Samuel?” Alex knocked again, then nodded toward an old black Prius parked on a patch of crumbling asphalt. “He should be here, that’s his car.”
Courtney frowned, worried. “Do you think he’s okay? Maybe something’s the matter?”
“Okay, let’s go in.” Alex opened the door, and they entered the cabin, but Samuel was nowhere in sight. They found themselves in a living room that was full of books that overflowed a bookcase and sat stacked on a battered plaid couch, a ratty ottoman, an old coffee table, and the floor. The walls were paneled and held no art. There was no TV or computer. The air smelled musty.
