“It was the night Al Harris won it for the Packers against the Seattle Seahawks in overtime. One of the greatest games ever. January 2004. You have to remember it.”
“Uh, no, but I’ll take your word for it.”
Even though I’m Wisconsin born and bred I have only the sketchiest knowledge of Packers—or any—football. Linda shook her head but continued.
“Harvey’s was packed. Everybody celebrating, lots of happy drunks. Even Tessa was a little looser that night. She told one of her co-workers she was making great tips, and she had a really cute guy at one of her tables.
“Tessa got off at eleven. A guy in the alley was taking a pee up against the wall. He saw her come out the back door and walk toward her car. He told the cops that a man wearing a Packers jacket caught up with her. The two of them got in the car and drove away. It was too dark for the wall pee-er guy—why do men insist on doing that?—to see what he looked like. That was the last time anyone saw Tessa alive.”
“Did anyone in the bar see Tessa flirting with a guy?”
“No one noticed anything particular. She was a waitress. She had to flirt with a lot of people. I told you, it was a big game night. Harvey’s was packed. People were drunk, or high, or just happy. They weren’t watching the waitress to see who she talked to.”
“Who found Tessa?”
“Harvey. She didn’t show up for her shift the next day, didn’t answer her phone. That wasn’t like her. Things slowed down around nine, and Harvey went over to check on her. She was lying on her bed, naked and dead.”
“What happened?”
“She was strangled with one of her own scarves. One of the cops told me it looked like a sex game gone wrong.”
“You mean like a bondage fantasy?”
“Yeah. You can imagine that sparked a lot of interest. Tessa as a person kind of got lost in the coverage. It was the kinky way she died that people wanted to hear about.”
“Did they get DNA, fingerprints?”
“Yeah, both. For all the good it did.”
“Why?”
“They found three sets of prints in the house. One was from Tessa’s old boyfriend. He swore he hadn’t been there in a week, and then it was just to drop some things off for Tessa. His alibi was tight. He played in a band and that night they had a gig in Appleton. Afterwards they all crashed together at a friend’s house.
“The other set belonged to a plumber who came in to fix the bathroom sink. He seemed like a possible, but his alibi was even better than the ex-boyfriend’s. He got arrested for drunk driving and spent the night in jail.”
“What about the third set of prints?”
“Couldn’t be accounted for. They were on the nightstand, on the headboard of Tessa’s bed, and the door of her bedroom. But they weren’t in the database and no one else turned up.”
“The DNA?”
“No match to the boyfriend or the plumber, and also nothing in the database.”
“That was one lucky killer.”
“Even luckier than you think. Tessa lived in the last house on the street. An empty lot on the left side, next to her on the right was a man who turned the lights out and went to bed every night at ten. He didn’t see or hear anything. Next to him, the house belonged to a couple who wintered in Florida. Across the street was an abandoned house. Tessa’s block couldn’t have been any deader if she lived in a cemetery.”
“What about the killer’s car? If he went home with Tessa in hers, wouldn’t his have been left in the parking lot after the bar closed? The owner didn’t notice it?”
“Nope. He said the lot was empty except for his own car after closing. It’s like she hooked up with a ghost.”
“Or her killer rode to the bar with someone else who picked him up at Tessa’s.”
“The cops interviewed as many people as they could find who were at the bar that night. There were some regulars, but the place filled up with out-of-towners most weekends. They had a few leads that went nowhere. Tessa didn’t have a family or close friends clamoring for answers. The cops went through the standard investigation process, came up dry, and moved on. Tessa Miles has been a cold case ever since.”
“So why are you going back to it now?”
“Because I’ve never been able to forget her. Maybe because I wasn’t that much older than her, maybe because I made a few stupid choices in my younger days, but I was lucky. Nothing bad happened to me. Why did it happen to Tessa?” She shrugged. “The eternal question, right? But I’ve got the time now to dig in and maybe I can find the answer.”
“Well, if anyone can, it’s you.” I waved Brent over for another drink and a menu.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and on into the evening talking about old friends, crazy times, and current life events. It was pretty late when we went our separate ways, with a long hug but no promises to stay in regular touch. We knew we probably wouldn’t, just like we knew we’d be able to pick back up where we were when we finally did connect.
I love my see-them-every-day friends, but I find it comforting to know that out in the world is another small group of people I belong to. We may fall out of touch, but never out of mind. And if we need each other, all we have to do is call.
7
On Tuesday I got up early, determined to make up for lost time from my fun but not very productive afternoon and evening with Linda. The sun was just rising on what promised to be another beautiful fall day. As its rays hit the leaves on the tree across the street, it created the most beautiful orange-gold colors. I really had no choice. I had to sit and stare for a while.
As I did, my worries about the paper and my own erratic career as an author lifted a little. I was really very lucky. I had the chance to fight for something I believe in—community journalism. And even though the specter of GO News gobbling up our subscribers gave me nightmares, they hadn’t won yet.
My ego had been banged up a little when my second book didn’t sell well and my publisher had dropped me, but I had a second chance with a new publisher. And even if I never made another dime as a writer, I had earned enough with the first book—and was still receiving royalties on it—to let me help my mother out with a few things, buy a new car, and set myself up in the nicest place I’ve ever lived.
I love the gas fireplace, which makes the grayest, rainiest, bleakest day feel warm and cozy. I love the window seat that looks out on the street below. I may never use the kitchen to its full potential, but its stainless-steel appliances, granite counters, and clean lines are beautiful. The wood floors and the exposed brick walls remind me of the building’s start as a department store back in Himmel’s boom time. I like being part of Miller’s commitment to bringing back the feeling of hope and confidence the young town of Himmel once had. Seriously, how could I not feel happy all the time?
The jarring buzz of the intercom that announced visitors at the back entrance to my apartment brought the answer to that question.
“Yes?”
“Leah, you need to come down now. Nobody’s here and I can’t keep answering the phones.”
Courtnee views her primary functions as receptionist at the Times to be talking, texting, and Tindering on the job. Answering calls and serving customers are merely inconvenient interruptions in her day.