“This doesn’t preclude the killer leaving his car at the motel and abducting them in Elizabeth’s, then returning later, getting into his car, and driving off,” I pointed out.
“No, it doesn’t. But if he drove his own car to the motel, then when did he get inside hers? The scenario of the three of them being inside a motel room together, and then forcing them to drive him to the cemetery, has never set well with me. Why go to all the trouble, the risk? They could have started screaming in the parking lot, could have resisted. Why not just murder them inside the room?”
“Was it verified that the three of them were ever inside one of the rooms?”
“That’s the other thing,” she said. “I questioned the clerk who was on duty that night. The Palm Leaf, a low rent motel off Route Sixty in Lightfoot. Doesn’t exactly do a thriving business. But the clerk didn’t remember either woman. Nor did he remember some guy coming in and renting a room near where the Volkswagen was found. In fact, most of the rooms in that section of the motel were vacant at the time. More important, no one checked in and then left without turning in the key. Hard to believe this guy would have had opportunity or inclination to check out. Certainly not after committing the crimes. He would have been bloody.”
“What was your theory when you were working on your stories?”
I asked.
“The same as it is now. I don’t think they met up with their killer inside the bar. I think something happened shortly after Elizabeth and Jill left.”
“Such as?”
Frowning, Abby was stirring her drink again. “I don’t know. They definitely weren’t the type to pick up a hitchhiker, certainly not at that late hour. And I never believed there was a drug connection. Neither Jill nor Elizabeth was found to have used coke, heroin, or anything like that, and no paraphernalia was found inside their apartments. They didn’t smoke, weren’t heavy drinkers. Both of them jogged, were health nuts.”
“Do you know where they were heading after they left the bar? Were they going straight home? Might they have stopped somewhere?”
“No evidence if they did.”
“And they left the bar alone?”
“Nobody I talked to remembered seeing them with another person while they were in the bar drinking. As I remember it, they had a couple of beers, were at a comer table talking. Nobody recalled seeing them leave with anyone.”
“They might have met someone in the parking lot when they left,” I said. “This individual might even have been waiting in Elizabeth’s car.”
“I doubt they would have left the car unlocked, but I suppose it’s possible.”
“Did the women frequent this bar?”
“As I remember it, they didn’t frequent it, but they’d gone there before.”
“A rough place?”
“That was my expectation since it was a favorite watering hole for military guys,” she replied. “But it reminded me of an English pub. Civilized. People talking, playing darts. It was the sort of place I could have gone with a friend and felt quite comfortable and private. The theory was that the killer was either someone passing through town or else a military person temporarily stationed in the area. It wasn’t someone they knew.”
Perhaps not, I thought. But it must have been someone they felt they could trust, at least initially, and I recalled what Hilda Ozimek had said about the encounters being “friendly” at first. I wondered what would come to her if I showed her photographs of Elizabeth and Jill.
“Did Jill have any medical problems you’re aware of?”
I asked.
She thought about this, her face perplexed. “I don’t recall.”
“Where was she from?”
“Kentucky comes to mind.”
“Did she go home often?”
“I didn’t get that impression. I think she made it home for holidays and that was about it.”
Then it wasn’t likely she had a prescription for Librax filled in Kentucky where her family lived, I thought.
“You mentioned she had just begun practicing law,” I went on. “Did she travel much, have reason to be in and out of town?”