Ridge. When the kids started coming, Sandra became a stay-at-home mom to her two girls, Hallie and Julie. At the time of their murders, Hallie had just celebrated her seventh birthday, and Julie, barely five, had just started kindergarten. As for Todd, he’d spent the last several years trying to keep the Mercantile going.
Lando had just started laying out the crime scene photographs across his desk when Dale came strolling into his office.
“I can’t find the fifth box,” Dale announced.
“Fifth box of what?” Lando asked without looking up. Preoccupied with the task, he continued digging through the crime scene photos, trying to arrange them in some kind of order.
“The computer indicates there should be five boxes of evidence in storage, five murder books. One of five. Two of five. Three of five. Four of five. There’s no five of five. I can only locate four, and you’ve already got Number Four.”
That detail got Lando’s attention. His head popped up. “Well, go look again. It has to be there.”
Dale shook his head. “I’ve been down there in the basement since I got back from the Mercantile. I’ve rearranged boxes. I’ve re-stacked them. I’ve checked everywhere. I’m telling you that box is nowhere in the basement or on the premises. It’s gone.”
Lando pushed to his feet. “Keep looking. It’s time to search Ben’s house.”
“But I want to go to Ben’s with you. My time would be better spent there. I know the layout. I used to date his daughter, Carolyn before she married someone else and moved out of state.”
“I know the layout as well as you do. But okay, just make sure you get Payce looking for that fifth box and ask anyone else who has time on their hands to help us out.”
Dale took out his cell phone to text Payce, then angled toward Lando. “Something occurred to me while I was down in the basement. Ben is the one who wrote up the story the day the news broke about the Copeland murders. There’s an old newspaper clipping in the second or third box with his byline. Did he pick up extra cash as a reporter back in those days?”
“Sure. Small town newspaper. Anybody could get their stories published back then if it was succinct and good enough. Elnora Kidman used to write up the crimebeat column. Ansel Conover used to do a gardening piece every week. What’s your point?”
“Well, if Ben had figured out who the killer was, say several years later, why would he keep quiet about it? I used to think Ben Zurcher was one of the good guys. But now I’m not so sure.”
“I know. It’s hard to imagine Ben keeping that kind of thing a secret. That wasn’t the man I knew and respected. Something else bothers me, though. If Ben had been working on the Copeland murders long after he retired and thought he could solve it, why not give me a heads up about what he was doing? His house is right down the street from mine.”
“You mean the bachelor pad you had on the beach.”
“Yeah. I still own it. Anyway, the point is, I used to go by his house to check on him. He’d invite me in for coffee, and we’d sit there for an hour or so in his living room or at the kitchen table talking sports or politics. Ben never once brought up the Copeland case to me during all my visits, never once asked for my opinion. Not one time.”
“See? It’s weird.”
“Weird enough that we’ll just go tear the house apart,” Lando concluded. When he got a wide-eyed look back from Dale, he added, “I’m serious. I want to know why the hell Ben kept a thing like that to himself.”
Ben Zurcher’s home was a brick and stucco mid-century modern located down the street from Lando’s old beach house steps away from the shoreline.
Wearing latex gloves, Lando used the set of keys found on Ben’s body to open the front door. He felt like an interloper spying on a friend as he stepped into the interior of the house. When he flipped on the lights, an energetic black and white cat jumped out from behind the drapes to greet him.
“Friend of yours?” Dale wanted to know.
“I’ve seen him around. His name’s Orwell, as in the writer. I think Ben mentioned he was a fan.”
“Orwell, huh?” Dale mumbled as he scooped up the kitty and held it close to his chest. “I’ll go see if I can