A Blood Red Rose for Sophia

By Lois Scott

Prom night turns from happy to horror in this tale of teen tragedy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 17, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469760193

Lois Scott

Lois Scott is the author of Delphia, a non-fiction book published by Eakin Press of Austin, Texas. She has also published Shadow of the Savage, a novel of the Northwest, by Author’s Choice Press of New York City. She acted as Book Review columnist for the Victoria Advocate for 25 years and had numerous poems published in well-known newspapers. She was raised in a small Texas town called San Perlita, and married a construction engineer whose profession took her to far-flung horizons. She lived for two years in Buenos Aires, Argentina—during the time of the death of Juan Peron and the subsequent assumption of power by his second wife, Isabel. She was there during the chaotic times when Isabel was placed under house arrest and the military took over. Lois went through the cold challenge of a winter in Alaska and spent a brief time in Panama. Now she lives quietly with her husband in Victoria, Texas and is convinced that there is no country in the world that can equal the United States.

Book preview

A BLOOD RED ROSE FOR

SOPHIA

Lois Scott

Authors Choice Press

San Jose New York Lincoln Shanghai

A Blood Red Rose for Sophia

All Rights Reserved © 2002 by Lois Scott

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Authors Choice Press

an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse, Inc.

5220 S. 16th St., Suite 200

Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

ISBN: 0-595-22241-2

ISBN: 978-1-4697-6019-3 (ebook)

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 1

The cool predawn fog hung in misty layers over the High School Athletic Field; the worn baseball diamond and sparse bleachers mere shadows in the dim stillness that seemed somehow ethereal and other-worldly. Everything seemed to be waiting. As the eastern sky began to lighten, the dim, far-off sound of a rooster crowing could be heard from the nearest farmhouse.

Suddenly into this sacred stillness a Volkswagen van clattered and came to a halt, giving off a small hiss and a smelly vapor as the motor died. A tall, slim, young man with a pimply face and unruly brown hair emerged and began arranging his load of rolled-up newspapers.

He smiled slightly as he remembered the events of the Junior-Senior Prom earlier in the night. He hadn’t danced much as he wasn’t too popular among the students, but he remembered each girl and what she had worn. First and foremost, he remembered Sophia.

He paused and his eyes took on a dreamy look when he thought about Sophia. He considered her a goddess, as did most of the men in town. Soft and blonde with the figure of a Barbie Doll, she was almost untouchable.

Especially with that aunt of hers always around…the young paper boy went back to his newspapers.

Aggie McBride was as ornery and crusty as Sophia was sweet and vulnerable, and what few of the male gender who dared come calling, came with hat in hand. Before they were allowed to court Sophia, they had to go through Aggie.

It was getting lighter now and the outlines in the field became a little more distinct. The fog would lift soon and let daylight flood the grounds. As the young man gathered his papers and arranged them in his van, something registered in his mind. Something he had seen quickly as his eyes rushed over. He straightened slowly and his gaze focused on the bleachers—still dark and dewy. But there was something light colored on the bottom bench. Something that brought him closer for a better investigation. As he drew near, he tried to swallow an apprehensive lump in his throat that refused to go down.

With halting steps, he advanced toward the bottom seat of the bleachers and looked down upon a female body. She was dead, and had been carefully laid out on the broad step, her eyes closed, her blood-soaked satin gown smoothed against her body, her hair carefully arranged into a halo-shape around her head—and a blood red rose on her breast.

Sophia! The young man stood spellbound for a long interval, unable to pull his eyes from the still form on the bleacher. A beautiful marble doll. He backed slowly away, his eyes still glued to the still face. Slowly—almost in slow motion—he slid in behind the wheel of his van and backed out of the athletic field onto the worn, grassy roadway. He looked back once as his wheels caught traction and he pulled out on the paved road. Rolled-up newspapers were scattered in all directions and the form on the bottom plank of the bleachers lay like sleeping beauty in the ethereal mists of morning.

As if suddenly emerging into reality, the paper boy chomped down on the gas. The Volkswagen choked and sputtered several times before lining out toward the Sheriff ’s office.

Half an hour later, Sheriff Brian Thompson drove his official vehicle onto the field and parked behind the Volkswagen. He left his hat on the seat beside him as he followed the paper boy, who seemed about ready to choke on his emotions, to the bleachers. The sky was turning pink now and only a few snatches of fog still hung in the dew-drenched park. The body was in full view as they stood over it. The victim’s beautiful champagne-colored prom gown was now a dark red, and beginning to stiffen as the blood dried. She had been slashed viciously—again and again. And Brian could see that the knife had gone deep into her flesh with each slash. Passion and hatred were written all over the murder scene.

She wasn’t killed here, Brian said slowly. There’s no blood all around. Stabbed as she was, this little area here would look like a slaughter house.

A few people had seen the Sheriff ’s car on the school grounds and came to investigate. Several men called to others and a young girl turned her head away.

Brian picked up the limp hand and felt for pulse. He hadn’t really expected to find one, however. He bent over to examine the red rose, without actually touching it, and noticed that the outer petals were covered in blood. This had not been discernible in the semi-darkness as the rose was the same color.

A blood red rose for Sophia, the young man breathed in reverent awe.

Brian turned to survey the paper boy who had brought him the news, and who couldn’t seem to pull himself away from the beautiful, grisly, sight on the bleacher.

I’d say from the gown she wears that she was at a party or a dance last night, Brian said.

Yes Sir, the young man replied, his eyes still glued to the body.

She was at the Junior-Senior Prom.

Were you there?

Yes sir.

Was this rose a part of her corsage last night? Brian asked, as his eyes sliced into the young man’s defenses.

No Sir, the young man replied. She didn’t wear a corsage. She had a beauty that stood alone. She didn’t need flowers.

What’s your name, Brian took a note pad out of his pocket and turned one of the pages.

Melvin Rutledge, but everyone calls me Slim.

Well Slim, when was the last time you saw Sophia at the prom? When was she suddenly not there?

I didn’t see her the last two dances, Slim said slowly. I was planning to ask her for the last dance, but when I heard Goodnight Sweetheart being played, I looked for her and she wasn’t there.

I need a list of all the young men at the Prom, Brian said. Can you give me a brief runoff?

I could, Sheriff, but you could get the same names from the Hay-Hi register. There were no strangers there, that I know of.

And you never saw her again until you pulled in here this morning?

That’s right, Sheriff.

And you pulled in here to arrange your newspapers for distribution?

Yes, I always come here to get ready for my route. But it was dark at first. Then as it began to lighten a little, I saw this thing on the bleacher and went to investigate.

Brian did not reply as he walked over to call the clinic on his car phone. The next call was then to Detective Pike. Since the body was on the school grounds, it would be in Detective Pike’s jurisdiction. Brian was a County Sheriff.

The sun had climbed above the horizon now and a larger crowd had gathered; standing silently watching. The paperboy was wading among them, his neck stretched as he tried to see above their heads. He reminded Brian of a stork as he jostled bystanders and stepped on toes.

Detective Pike was arriving, and everyone made room for him as he walked over to look at the body. Haysville had only one detective. A short, heavy-set man with drooping jowls and balding head, Pike had always reminded Brian of a bull dog. He hadn’t made much of a splash in Haysville, and Brian sensed that he was in over his head with a real murder case.

The detective quickly took command, bustling around, waving his arms and giving orders as fast as he could talk. By talking fast and ordering everyone around, Brian sensed that Pike was trying to give the impression of competence and in-control authority. A state that he was far from achieving. Brian watched from the open door of his patrol car as Pike cleared the immediate area and walked over to his car phone to call the Emergency Unit and the Forensic men. The Medical Lab in Haysville held a small place in the clinic and consisted of two men.

The paper boy was still stepping gingerly around and Brian called him over.

You know the Forensic men are going to have to search your car.

Why? They don’t think—

They have to check out every angle.

The men from Forensic arrived, looking a little tousled and sleepy, and immediately roped off the area. The sun was a little higher now and everyone wore an expression of stark curiosity, mixed with horror.

Detective Pike walked over to stand beside Brian, shaking his head as he turned to look back over at the body. Nothing of this magnitude had ever happened in small town Haysville and he seemed at a loss as to just what to do.

Terrible thing, he murmured as he shook his head again. Brian and the detective walked over to the body again and stood looking down. In the morning stillness the faint wail of the Emergency Unit eased into their senses and became louder as the two men waited. In a few minutes it was turning onto the school grounds.

The men from Forensic were busily at work when Detective Pike began to question members of the crowd. But more people kept collecting and they all told the same story. They had simply observed the Sheriff’s car on the ball field and had come to investigate.

The paper boy’s van had gotten a good going-over by one of the Forensic men, but it was clean of any incriminating evidence. It seemed this kid checked out.

Brian knew his next move was to notify Sophia’s aunt before one of the busybodies here in this crowd phoned her with the news. Aunt Aggie would be just getting up and didn’t deserve a shock like that from someone on the street.

As Slim began gathering his papers and stuffing them in the Volkswagen, his gaze returned again and again to the body on the bleachers. He couldn’t seem to draw his eyes away. Mixed emotions flitted across his face and he shook his head as if to clear it. Several times, he started back, but a hard look from Brian sent him in retreat, and he finished getting ready for his route. It appeared to be a shock to him and he seemed to be having a hard time digesting it.

Last night she was so happy. he murmured in cold awe. Now she’s dead. Cold and lifeless—like a beautiful mannequin. He straightened slowly as his eyes roved over the body one last time.

Sheriff, have you thought about—" Slim paused with his hand on the door handle.

Thought about what?

A single red rose spells love.

Brian did not reply as his hard gray eyes swept the surroundings. There was nothing out of the ordinary. As Slim’s old Volkswagen clattered off the field, he bent over to look again at the wound in her chest. There was no doubt that the murder weapon had been a knife. Knife wounds covered the body but the fatal stab had been directly in the heart—and twisted. This seemed to correlate with the love rose theory. And the way she was laid out. Her gold blonde hair smoothed away from her brow, and arranged in a halo. Someone had lovingly washed her face with a wet cloth of some kind. Probably a handkerchief. If he could find that handkerchief—

But there was nothing on the ground that indicated a wash cloth. He kicked aside gum wrappers, cigarette butts, and bits and pieces of debris, but it was obvious she had been brought here from somewhere else.

Slim was right. This just could be an act of love from a twisted mind. Brian said aloud.

Or an edict of possession, a girl from the ring of on-lookers said. An extreme case of that old saw, if I can’t have you, no one else is going to."

Her hair is arranged almost reverently, Brian said thoughtfully. Several by-standers nodded in agreement. He walked slowly around the body to view it from every angle. No evidence of the murder weapon, he continued.

Detective Pike spoke briefly to the men with the Emergency Unit and Brian stood watching as they grasped the body by the shoulders and knees to transfer her to the gurney. As they moved her, a rush of blood was released and gushed over the bleacher and the ground below. A loud gasp went up from the by-standers and they instinctively backed away. Some of the ladies put a tissue to their noses and the men looked away, but the Emergency men kept a stone face as she was put on the gurney and loaded into the back. Without hesitation, they closed the door and walked around to slide into the front seat of the van. As the bright flashing lights sped out onto the roadway, the crowd broke up into small groups, talking and nodding in agreement. Others would be arriving all during the day to look at the blood stains and rehash the horror that had befell one of their own on the High School Athletic Field.

By noon everyone in town would know about it.

The small town of Haysville was coming to life as Brian started toward Aggie’s house. Christine Sanders was just opening her bakery. So many men dropped by at this early hour to get a bun or sweet roll before