Free Rose Hill by Pamela Grandstaff

nor dated anyone as far as Scott knew, and lived with her invalid mother, Enid. Her father Eric was the fire chief for many years before he died in tragic circumstances.
    When Scott asked for Theo’s mail she pumped him for information, but he told her he couldn’t discuss the case. He was not about to supply grain to the head grinder at the rumor mill. He was sure she was harmless, but he didn’t underestimate the town’s ability to jump to conclusions ahead of the facts. He hoped Mitchell wouldn’t encounter any unpleasantness due to the latest vicious gossip, but he half expected it.
    Margie gave him Theo’s mail and Scott took it back to the station break room. He put on some latex gloves and went through the stack of envelopes. There were a few bills, some larger envelopes, and a thick envelope sent from a law firm in Pittsburgh. It contained a sales contract for the vacant Rodefeffer Glassworks property, and Scott could not believe how much Theo was getting for it.
    Realtor Trick Rodefeffer, the grandson of the man who sold the property to Theo, was not listed on the contract or on any of the attached documents as the seller’s or buyer’s representative, although Scott knew he was handling the sale. Had Theo cut Trick out of the deal? Scott had seen Trick taking the prospective buyer around town on Friday, and this was postmarked Monday. Theo would have had to request the contract early on Friday, and then have it completed and put in the mail on the same day in order to make the Monday delivery.
    Did Theo have the kind of clout with his attorneys where he could demand same day service? Would Trick’s cut be big enough to supply him with a motive for killing Theo? Trick wouldn’t have known about it yet. Or would he? Did someone in the lawyer’s office tip him off? Knowing Theo, he might have told Trick he was doing it just to piss him off. Scott added those questions to his list and set aside the documents.
    Among the manila envelopes, there was one with Theo’s name and address computer-printed on a white label with no return address, postmarked Saturday. When he sliced the end of the envelope open, a card and a photo fell out. He picked up the card first. There was a painting of a vase of white lilies on the front with the words, “He is just away…” printed in a calligraphy font, and “But will live on in our hearts through our memories,” printed on the inside in the same font. Under the pre-printed message inside the card was another large white label like the one on the front of the envelope. This computer-printed label read, “You will pay for what you did.” Scott felt his stomach roll, as if he’d driven too fast over a bump in the road.
    He picked up the photo and felt the rollercoaster sensation begin again. It was a faded color photo of three adolescent boys posing on the end of a dock with Bear Lake behind them, holding up fishing poles with a small fish hooked to the end of each line. They were puffing out their chests and grinning, sunburned and dirty in cut off shorts and grimy, unlaced tennis shoes, looking like they were having the time of their lives. Scott knew they were, because he was one of the boys in the photo. The other two boys were Brad Eldridge and Sean Fitzpatrick.
    Ed Harrison was the photographer who took the picture with the camera he got for his sixteenth birthday. The date printed on the photo confirmed Ed and Scott were sixteen and the Sean and Brad were fifteen when it was taken. It was just two days before Brad drowned, not twenty feet from where they were standing.
    Scott shook his head, trying to make sense of it. He never thought about it if he could help it, and certainly never reminisced over photos taken back then. Seeing himself and his friends so young and happy brought it all back.
     
     
    That particular summer was a difficult one for everyone in the photo. Scott and Ed had been dumped by their best pals, Patrick and Sam, right after school let out,