Kentucky Murders: A Small Town Murder Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

pay their respects, and he could tell that even family members would rather not have come, but they were paying their respects to Zack’s mother, not his dead old man.
    The eulogy had been short, given by Zack’s only sibling, his older sister, Carrie. A fresh blanket of snow from the previous night had covered the graveyard, and Zack remembered the icy wind that had cut through him as he weaved through the maze of hundreds of headstones, which all seemed to be different shapes and sizes, on his way to the gravesite. He had wondered if it was possible to dig in these conditions. He guessed that they could penetrate the frozen earth with a backhoe, unlike the old days when they used shovels.
    The graveside ceremony had been less than eventful until his mother broke down and sobbed as the casket was lowered. Zack and his sister had to hold her arms and lead her back to the car while she tried to fight them off.
    Over the next few days, Zack dialed his mom’s number a dozen times, but the only answer was ring after ring after ring. When she finally did answer on the third day, she only babbled like a child, making little or no sense at all. Frustrated, he finally decided to take a one-week vacation and head for the house where he grew up to be with his ailing mother. The drive north to Madison Heights from his southern Detroit suburb of Southgate took two hours instead of the usual forty-five minutes, because of the heavy snow that had fallen during the night.
    He turned onto his old street, where early morning snowplows had piled four-foot high banks, blocking driveways and trapping cars left parked along the street. Neighbors, bundled in heavy coats, hats, and gloves, shoveled narrow, high-walled paths to the street so they could get out to drive to work through snow packed neighborhood streets leading to larger, plowed and salted main roads.
    Zack pulled up to the high snow bank running in front of the 1950s-era, aluminum-sided, Cape Cod house. Huge icicles, hanging from blocked rain gutters, buried themselves in snowdrifts mounded high against the house.
    He climbed over the mountain of snow and took high steps toward the front door, his legs disappearing below the white surface up to his knees. Finally, he reached the porch, or at least a bulge in the snow adjacent to the front door. A wooden handle stuck out from the snow mound. With a pull, Zack produced a snow shovel, which he used to clear off the porch. He pried open the storm door and knocked on the interior front door. No answer. He knocked again, waited, and still she didn’t answer. She had to be home, since her car was still parked in the driveway, buried under the snow. He tried the doorknob and found it turned, but the door wouldn’t open. It must be frozen shut. He leaned against it with his shoulder and shoved, but it didn’t budge. Then he stepped back and slammed his body hard against it. With a crack, it flew open.
    Inside, the drapes were drawn closed; the living room was shrouded in darkness. “Mom, are you here?” he called. Silence answered. The heater kicked in, startling him. He turned on the hall light and walked toward the kitchen, where a dim light shone.
    He found his mother sitting at a small, marbled, green formica-topped table in the center of the room. The only light came from a 25-watt bulb above the stove. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead and trickled inside his collar, making him think that the heat must be turned up to near 90 degrees.
    He flipped on the overhead light and looked at his aging mother. She sat still and silent, a cup of probably cold coffee sat in front of her, and her vacant eyes pointed toward the bare wall. Her hair hadn’t been combed, and her robe hung loose from her gaunt frame. Even the bright light coming on hadn’t jolted her out of her daydream.
    “Mom?” He walked over to her, put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she slowly turned to him.
    “Zack? Shouldn’t you be at work? Your father left