Chapter 71
CHAPTER
The afternoon before thanksgiving, after more than a week of failing to get another line on the killer in the white van, Pennsylvania state police detective Tommy French called me. His friends at the DMV had compiled the results of the search Chief Pittman requested.
“We’re right behind you, Tommy,” I said. “And we owe you.”
“Maybe,” the detective said. “You might want to check land records in Chester County, see who owns the Lawtons’ place now.”
I called the Chester County Recorder’s office after we hung up but got a message saying they were closed for the holiday and wouldn’t reopen until Friday morning.
“We’re shut down for now,” I said, getting up from my chair and grabbing my coat.
“Everyone with a brain has gone home,” Sampson said, putting his things away.
“You’re suggesting we’re brainless?” I chuckled.
“Sometimes,” he said, grinning at me. “What time tomorrow?”
“Nana Mama wants everyone there around two thirty. Dinner at four.”
“I’m fasting tonight so I can pack it away tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Nah. I don’t do fasts.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Forty minutes later, I was home and down on the floor playing with Damon while Maria watched over us and we waited for an order of Chinese food to be delivered. I told her about Sampson’s fasting claim, which cracked her up.
“That man eats six meals a day,” she said. “He’d collapse if he fasted.”
“Right?” I tickled Damon, who squealed with laughter and ran away. “Another runner.”
Maria patted her belly. “Not like this one.”
“Still kicking?”
“I think baby’s doing a Jazzercise routine in there.”
I got up, came over, and put my hand on her belly. I could feel the movements immediately. “What a squirmer!”
“I told you,” Maria said.
The baby continued to dance around the next morning, which we spent helping my grandmother prepare for twelve guests. They started to arrive promptly at two thirty.
Sampson showed up last, around three.
“You’re late,” Nana Mama told him.
“Still on daylight saving time.”
“Shouldn’t you be early, then?”
“I’m a slow learner,” John said.
The rest of the day went on like that, with lots of laughter and stories and too much good food. Everyone brought something, but the crowning glory went to Nana’s turkey, which she deep-fried outside in a gizmo she’d bought for the occasion.
The skin was like crispy thin bacon. The meat was extraordinarily tender and juicy. I ate so much, I fell asleep with Damon crashed in my lap while watching the Detroit Lions game.
Maria had to wake me up to head home, and I was thinking about bed for the night as soon as we had Damon down.
“You going to work tomorrow?” she asked.
“I’m actually off, but I think I’ll make a couple of phone calls from here and then spend the rest of the day with you and D.”
She smiled. “We’d like that.”
The next morning I let Maria sleep in and took care of Damon, changing his diaper and feeding him breakfast, after which I called the office of the Chester County Recorder of Deeds.
A woman answered on the second ring. “Shaina Watson, recorder’s office.”
I told her who I was and gave Ms. Watson the address I was interested in.
“LeeAnne and Michael Lawton used to own that place,” she said immediately.
“You know it?”
“Mmm-hmm,” the woman said. “Off the north side of the Chrome Barrens, big untouched area up there.”
“You know who owns it now?”
Her voice got tighter. “I know who inherited it. LeeAnne’s grandson, Eamon.”
“Eamon Lawton?” I said, scribbling it down.
“Eamon Diggs,” she said, sounding disgusted. “Heard of him?”
“Can’t say that I have,” I said.
“Look the creep up. He did time for rape.”