With One Shot by Dorothy Marcic

Author:Dorothy Marcic [Marcic, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-01-30T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

A Trip to the Bountiful Oregon

I knew I had to go back to the mansion. I wanted to go back and see where the murder had occurred. After trying to get there for months, I arrived on Tuesday, May 12, 2015.

The house was majestic by any standard, and it stood out among the large, well-kept homes on the wide, clean streets, the newly mown lawns, the well-trimmed hedges, and the carefully planted flowers blooming reds, oranges, purples, and blues. As I drove down Main Street, I could see it up ahead, the outside painted in teal, cantaloupe, aqua, and dark salmon, quite different from the complete white it had been back when I had visited so many weekends in the late 1960s. The gables, the wraparound porch, the leaded glass, all added to its grandeur.

My first stop was the Oregon Area Historical Society. For a few months I’d been e-mailing two people, who’d been extremely helpful. When I got there, they had already gotten out newspaper articles and anything they had related to the Stordock case. Was I interested in high school yearbooks? Yes! But the only relevant ones they had were from 1966, where Louisa was shown as a senior, and from 1969, with David as a sophomore. Because I had found information that the girlfriend who had given David a sort-of alibi was named Lawson, I looked for her in the yearbooks. There was a Charlene Lawson listed as a junior in the 1969 book, and elsewhere I found the name of Sherri Lawson in a club, but with no picture, so I could not figure out if that Charlene and Sherri were the same person, but I assumed Sherri was probably the same Lawson from the police reports and the one I had discussed with David’s friend, John. And despite weeks of searching and endless dead-end phone calls, I never did locate her. On a subsequent trip, I checked at the public library and found a couple of more yearbooks with pictures of David and Louisa. It was strangely comforting to see their faces as I had remembered them so long ago.

I had previously contacted the current owners of the mansion to get permission to come and view the house, to revisit the crime scene and to see if any old memories were unlocked. We had talked on the phone several times and the woman who lived there had a lot of questions about the murder, as she was fairly new to the house and had only heard bits and pieces from the neighbors. I parked my rental car on the street and walked to the back porch. I noticed the driveway was asphalt, but I was quite sure it had been gravel back in 1970.

Jan Bonsett-Veal answered the door and I saw a tall woman dressed in white slacks and a loose purple-and-black floral top, with wavy dark brown hair, parted on the left side. Her smile was warm and welcoming, and she led me into the kitchen, which had been completely remodeled.

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