Don't Look (Pike, Wisconsin #1) - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,105
as she allowed herself to recall how Kir was spending his morning. “Right now it’s enough to stay alive.”
“God, yes.” Bernadine clicked her tongue. “We are all praying the monster is caught and put behind bars. Better yet, put in his grave. The sooner the better.”
Lynne set aside her coffee. They were going to need more than prayers. “That reminds me.”
“Yes?”
“Do you know anything about Delbert Frey?”
Bernadine stared at her with a blank expression. “Who?”
“He was the drug dealer who shot Rudolf Jansen.”
“Oh, I remember that.” Bernadine shuddered. “Just awful.”
“Did you know the shooter?”
“Not really.” Bernadine shook her head. “I’d heard his name around town. He was always causing trouble.”
“What sort of trouble?”
Bernadine glanced away, as if trying to capture some elusive memory. “It seems like I remember something.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, yes. There was some sort of fight at the trailer park. They had to call in the state police and everything.”
“The trailer park that Sherry owned?”
“It must have been. I’m not sure there’s ever been any other trailer park in town.”
“What happened?”
Bernadine leaned toward her. Like all people did when they were about to share some juicy gossip. “I wasn’t there, of course, but I heard some people talking, and they claimed Delbert Frey was beating his wife and one of the neighbors tried to stop him. The neighbor ended up in the hospital, barely clinging to life, and Delbert ended up on the street after he was evicted from his home. They also said he threatened to burn the entire town to the ground.”
A sharp stab of distaste sliced through Lynne. She didn’t remember the man, but she’d met others like him. They were so angry with the world that they tried to destroy everything and everyone around them.
“Do you know his wife’s name?”
Bernadine considered the question. “It was something odd. Marrow?” She shook her head. “No, that’s not right. Merrill? Yes, that was it. Merrill.”
“What do you know about her?”
“Nothing.” Bernadine lifted her hands in a gesture of apology. “They never came to this clinic. To be honest, I don’t think they mixed with the rest of town. At least not the decent folk.”
Lynne leaned forward, opening her laptop. Then she typed a name in the search engine.
“Merrill Frey,” she said out loud. “It isn’t a common name. I wonder if I can find some information on her.”
Bernadine moved around the desk, allowing her to see the computer screen. “Why are you so interested?”
“Kir suspects the killer’s obsession with his father might have started the night Rudolf was shot,” Lynne said, distracted as she scanned through the links popping up.
“That was twenty years ago.”
Lynne’s lips parted, only to snap shut. She didn’t want to reveal that Rita had left a message for Kir. Not only because she didn’t want people gossiping about the woman and the way she might have died, but it was possible the sheriff would want to keep the information secret. Her personal opinion of Kathy Hancock and her staff didn’t mean she wasn’t anxious for the killer to be caught and convicted.
“It’s just a theory.”
“I suppose it’s as good as any other.”
“Exactly.” Lynne concentrated on the computer screen.
There were plenty of hits on businesses and a few people with the last name Merrill. Even a Facebook page with a cat called Merrill.
“There’s no Merrill Frey,” she muttered in frustration. Then a link to a newspaper announcement caught her eye. “Wait. Merrill Bowen-Frey weds Ernie Rucker from Warsaw.”
“What’s the date?”
She clicked the link. “2005. A couple years after Delbert was killed.”
“That could be her.”
Lynne read through the short announcement. There wasn’t anything beyond the bare facts that they’d been wed at the courthouse in Warsaw and planned a short honeymoon in Green Bay.
“Merrill Rucker.” Lynne typed the name in the search window. “Maybe I can get an address or where she works. . . .” Lynne’s words trailed away as the obituary popped onto the computer screen. She leaned forward, her heart lurching at the sight. “No.”
With a shaky hand, she clicked on the link. It had to be another Merrill Rucker, right? What were the odds that the woman had died just a few years after her first husband?
But it wasn’t another Merrill Rucker. And worse, she hadn’t just died. She’d been brutally murdered.
“What is it?”
“She’s dead,” Lynne rasped, sitting back in her seat as she tried to regain command of her shaken composure.
Bernadine made a sound of surprise. “She must have been young. Was it a car wreck?”