“Samantha, I need your help with something at Palm City Park,” Edna said to her daughter on the phone.
“Mom, I just got home from a business trip, and the kid’s laundry is all piled up.”
“I know you are busy, but I need to find out something that could keep Paul out of jail. If he gets thrown in prison for something he didn’t do, I’ll be so distraught that I might want to bring my three dogs and come to live with you.”
“I’d love to help. I’ll get Geoff to watch Kinsey and Katie. Where should I meet you?”
“Wonderful! Meet me by the Cactus Garden in Palm City Park.”
Edna grabbed her camera and the biggest hat she could find. She took Paul’s fishing tackle box and a pair of scissors.
“At store. I’ll get popsicles and dog biscuits. Back soon. Love, E,” she wrote on a sticky note for Paul.
Edna was in the Cactus Garden hanging up a hook on some fishing line when Samantha arrived.
“OK, Mom, what are we doing exactly? I’m not getting anywhere near those awful things,” she said, pointing at the cacti. “That is the ugliest hat I’ve ever seen. You’re not going to wear that, are you?”
“Stand over in the Peace Garden, by that white pillar and take a picture of me with my camera.”
Edna put on the large hat and crouched down by the gazebo in the north end of the Cactus Garden.
“Mother, if you want a good picture, you’d better stand up. All I can see is your hat.”
“Please take the picture.”
“Got it.”
“OK, wait. We need to take another one from right there. OK. Now, please.”
Edna hung the hat on the hook and crawled down the slope on the west side of the Cactus Garden.
“OK, done.”
Edna positioned Samantha in two other spots in the garden for more pictures where Edna and Missy were working at the time of Russ’s murder. Samantha probably thought she was taking pictures of her mother. Instead, she photographed a hat on a hook surrounded by plants.
“Now, what?” Samantha asked.
“I need you to time me. I’m going from the Cactus Garden to that shed and back.”
Edna got in the starting position, and Samantha gave a shout.
“Go!”
Edna came back puffing.
“Two minutes, forty-five seconds, roughly. Why is your shirt on inside out?”
“It’s part of the experiment.”
Edna had taken her shirt off in the shed, thinking that the killer must have taken off his volunteer shirt to avoid blood splatters. She neglected to turn her shirt right side out when put it back on.
“Thank you, sweetheart. Please don’t tell anyone about this. I’ll call you.”
“Mom, sometimes I worry about you,” said Samantha tilting her head.
Edna took the camera to the CVS drugstore on Summerlin. She wanted her digital prints immediately.
When she went into her house, she cringed at the sticky note. Paul gave her a quizzical look.
“Where are my popsicles?”
“The truth is Samantha met me at the park, and we took some photos. I have a theory that I want the police to think about so you’ll be in the clear.”
“They’re going to hang me for sure, just because you are getting in their way.”
“Fine! For dinner, it’s peanut butter and jelly.”
After a few minutes, Edna sat down next to Paul as he watched the Channel 2 news.
“Paul, I need to do this. It won’t do any harm, I promise. It might even help.”
Paul looked at the ceiling and shook his head at the same time, his gesture of acquiescence.
~
Edna spent Thursday evening positioning her diagrams and digital prints at the dining room table. She drew dotted lines and arrows. She drew little symbols and a key for them at the bottom of two 11 x 17 pieces of paper that she had taped together. When she finished the graphic layout, she typed elaborate descriptions. It was the first night she stayed awake past 8:30 p.m. since the night her son got married in Las Vegas two years earlier.
“I have a few copies to make of this diagram and the yearbooks. I’m showing the lot to Brumbaugh and Miori tomorrow.”
“What will happen to our pets if we both are in jail?”
“Paul, things will turn around now, you’ll see.”
Edna tried to sleep but spent an hour or more thinking about her theory. She was convinced that Jack Beckman, as he called himself, was really John Brockner, the kid in the yearbook. He had aged, of course, but it was the same man. Brockner and Russ both dated B.J. Reed and were in the same Ellet High class. It could not be a coincidence. Edna had heard Brumbaugh tell Miori that he wanted hard, physical evidence, and Edna’s theory, even with pictures, was still a theory.
“Mom, I just got home from a business trip, and the kid’s laundry is all piled up.”
“I know you are busy, but I need to find out something that could keep Paul out of jail. If he gets thrown in prison for something he didn’t do, I’ll be so distraught that I might want to bring my three dogs and come to live with you.”
“I’d love to help. I’ll get Geoff to watch Kinsey and Katie. Where should I meet you?”
“Wonderful! Meet me by the Cactus Garden in Palm City Park.”
Edna grabbed her camera and the biggest hat she could find. She took Paul’s fishing tackle box and a pair of scissors.
“At store. I’ll get popsicles and dog biscuits. Back soon. Love, E,” she wrote on a sticky note for Paul.
Edna was in the Cactus Garden hanging up a hook on some fishing line when Samantha arrived.
“OK, Mom, what are we doing exactly? I’m not getting anywhere near those awful things,” she said, pointing at the cacti. “That is the ugliest hat I’ve ever seen. You’re not going to wear that, are you?”
“Stand over in the Peace Garden, by that white pillar and take a picture of me with my camera.”
Edna put on the large hat and crouched down by the gazebo in the north end of the Cactus Garden.
“Mother, if you want a good picture, you’d better stand up. All I can see is your hat.”
“Please take the picture.”
“Got it.”
“OK, wait. We need to take another one from right there. OK. Now, please.”
Edna hung the hat on the hook and crawled down the slope on the west side of the Cactus Garden.
“OK, done.”
Edna positioned Samantha in two other spots in the garden for more pictures where Edna and Missy were working at the time of Russ’s murder. Samantha probably thought she was taking pictures of her mother. Instead, she photographed a hat on a hook surrounded by plants.
“Now, what?” Samantha asked.
“I need you to time me. I’m going from the Cactus Garden to that shed and back.”
Edna got in the starting position, and Samantha gave a shout.
“Go!”
Edna came back puffing.
“Two minutes, forty-five seconds, roughly. Why is your shirt on inside out?”
“It’s part of the experiment.”
Edna had taken her shirt off in the shed, thinking that the killer must have taken off his volunteer shirt to avoid blood splatters. She neglected to turn her shirt right side out when put it back on.
“Thank you, sweetheart. Please don’t tell anyone about this. I’ll call you.”
“Mom, sometimes I worry about you,” said Samantha tilting her head.
Edna took the camera to the CVS drugstore on Summerlin. She wanted her digital prints immediately.
When she went into her house, she cringed at the sticky note. Paul gave her a quizzical look.
“Where are my popsicles?”
“The truth is Samantha met me at the park, and we took some photos. I have a theory that I want the police to think about so you’ll be in the clear.”
“They’re going to hang me for sure, just because you are getting in their way.”
“Fine! For dinner, it’s peanut butter and jelly.”
After a few minutes, Edna sat down next to Paul as he watched the Channel 2 news.
“Paul, I need to do this. It won’t do any harm, I promise. It might even help.”
Paul looked at the ceiling and shook his head at the same time, his gesture of acquiescence.
~
Edna spent Thursday evening positioning her diagrams and digital prints at the dining room table. She drew dotted lines and arrows. She drew little symbols and a key for them at the bottom of two 11 x 17 pieces of paper that she had taped together. When she finished the graphic layout, she typed elaborate descriptions. It was the first night she stayed awake past 8:30 p.m. since the night her son got married in Las Vegas two years earlier.
“I have a few copies to make of this diagram and the yearbooks. I’m showing the lot to Brumbaugh and Miori tomorrow.”
“What will happen to our pets if we both are in jail?”
“Paul, things will turn around now, you’ll see.”
Edna tried to sleep but spent an hour or more thinking about her theory. She was convinced that Jack Beckman, as he called himself, was really John Brockner, the kid in the yearbook. He had aged, of course, but it was the same man. Brockner and Russ both dated B.J. Reed and were in the same Ellet High class. It could not be a coincidence. Edna had heard Brumbaugh tell Miori that he wanted hard, physical evidence, and Edna’s theory, even with pictures, was still a theory.
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