“The last case is titled the case of the Disappeared Diabetic,” River said, reading from her laptop.
“I’m really getting tired of these titles,” Tony said, moaning dramatically. “We’re never giving our cases titles.”
“I think it could be interesting,” River said, grinning. “Maybe we’re working on the case of the Not-Present Podcaster.”
“That’s truly terrible. Now I know we’ll never do that.”
“You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it sooner.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Tony said sarcastically.
“Anyway, back to April’s notes. . . . Six years ago, a thirty-year-old man named Ted Piper from Imperial, Missouri . . .” She looked at Tony. “Another one from Missouri.” Then she went back to her laptop. “Ted was walking along a road near his home.” She paused and frowned. “This happened in December too. Anyway, he liked to walk every day for exercise. When he didn’t return home, his mother went looking for him. She found his body a few yards from the road, his head bashed in with something. She found the fanny pack he always took with him that contained his insulin several feet from his body. He should have been wearing it.” River stared at Tony.
Tony paused a moment before asking, “Did April make any notes about this case?”
“Yeah, quite a few.”
“This sounds a lot like the previous case.”
“Yeah, it does. Again, not many tips April took seriously. Of course, since Ted was walking in an isolated area, no one really saw him except for one man. This neighbor, a man named Charles Lee, said Ted walked past his house about an hour and a half before his mother found his body. Mr. Lee had just gotten home and was checking his mailbox. He said hello to Ted and asked him if it wasn’t a little cold to be out walking. Ted just smiled and said he liked it that way. Mr. Lee said Ted seemed just fine. He went back into the house and didn’t see Ted again. Had no idea anything was wrong until the police came by later, asking questions.”
“So, whoever killed him wasn’t seen by anyone else?”
“No, I guess not,” River said slowly.
“Something bothering you?”
“April’s drawn another picture here.”
“Of?”
“A dogwood flower.”
“You said this happened in Imperial?” Tony asked. “And Shelly was killed near Kimmswick?”
River nodded.
“I might be wrong, but I think the same police department oversees both towns.”
River frowned. “And how would you know that? I’m the Missouri girl and I wasn’t aware of it.”
“I was researching something else and it came up. I remembered it for some reason.” Tony started typing on his laptop. A few moments later, he said, “I was right.” He picked up his phone. “I’m going to call them. All we can do is try.”
“I’m not sure they’ll tell you anything.”
“These are cold cases. Since they’re not active . . .” He held up his index finger, indicating that someone had answered the phone.
While Tony talked to whomever answered, River went back to April’s notes. There was no indication why she’d drawn the flowers or that she’d followed up on anything concerning them. River looked through the pictures she had taken of the podcast pages before it disappeared. She couldn’t help but notice that the hit-and-run case was a little similar to the two Tony was calling about. However, it didn’t happen in December. In fact, it occurred in the summer. In June. She looked up the case online and saw that Detective Porter, the detective April had interviewed, had been quoted by a reporter about Cheryl’s death. “This was a senseless act,” he’d said. “If only someone had called us earlier, we could have prevented this. It makes all of us angry.”
He sounded like someone who might be willing to help them. River looked up the substation’s number where Detective Porter worked and called them. When she asked for him, she was told he’d retired. After explaining to the woman who’d answered the phone why she was calling, she took River’s number and promised to call the detective.
“He was always bothered by this case,” she said. “Told us that if anyone ever called about it or if we came up with a suspect, to let him know.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate your help,” River said.
“That was an awful thing. Still bothers me to think about it. We never could understand why so many people ignored that poor woman.”
River thanked her again and disconnected the call just as Tony finished his.
“Did you get what you wanted?” she asked.
“Let’s just say that the police were not forthcoming,” he said. “I was informed that the case is closed, and they have no intention of talking about it.”
“I guess we could try contacting the families,” River said. “Of course, Shelly Evans’s father is gone. We’d have to locate someone else.”
“That wouldn’t be hard. Just pull up the obituaries.”
River told him about her call concerning Cheryl Armitage.
“Do you think he’ll really reach out?”
“I don’t see why not, although April hasn’t drawn a dogwood flower by Cheryl’s name. I also noticed that this happened in the summer and the others occurred in December. Could be coincidence—or it might just mean that we have serial killers on the brain.”
“That’s not impossible,” Tony said. “I’ll see if I can scare up some numbers for Ted’s mother and Shelly’s family. See if they know of any reason April would make a note about a dogwood flower.”
“The dogwood symbolizes rebirth, resilience, and renewal,” River said.
“My turn to ask once again how you know that.”
