The Five Strangers, page 19
“Yes. Do you? Oh, stupid question – a nicely brought-up boy in his tender youth meets a dark beauty just off the fashion runway who’s always on the lookout for fresh meat – how long did it take you to make Brody forget he was a cop?”
“Oh, don’t get prissy on me. Brody’s a sweetie, and he knew I’d be interested.”
“Oh, he actually called you with whatever it is?”
“Well . . . I might have called him, when I heard a rumor. Tansy came into the shop this morning with hot news, but I do like to get my facts straight, especially when they’re important facts, like this one. I mean . . . (chuckle) . . . know how confused Tansy is, most of the time. You wouldn’t believe what she was wearing, by the way –”
“She’s making us wait for it,” I told Rita, who said, “Yes, I know, but it’s really getting late, and do we even care?”
“Cut it out,” Jelly said. “You know you’re dying to find out. This is really big. A witness has come forward and said he saw Jasper at some ungodly hour, lurking in the alley behind Beloved of Old the night Sheila was murdered. Jack Peterson is getting the warrant ready now. He’s going to arrest him.”
“Arrest Jasper?” I almost screamed. “He can’t!”
“He’s the Chief of Police. He can arrest a ham sandwich.”
“You’re thinking of prosecutors and indictments,” Rita said, “but you’re right. With a witness coming forward, Jack has to at least bring Jasper back in for questioning, though I doubt he’s issuing warrants already.”
“But – but – but,” I stuttered, and I would have kept on going like that if Jelly hadn’t raided my fries again and murmured: “Don’t take it so hard, sweetie. We all know Jasper’s a little off.”
I stared at her as if it were all her fault. Then the obvious hit me like a cannonball.
“Jasper and his cousin Grady look almost exactly alike. At least, they would at an ungodly hour while lurking in an alley.”
“But why would Sheila be stupid enough to meet her estranged husband at her store in the middle of the night?” Jelly asked. “Jasper actually makes more sense.”
“Jasper doesn’t make any sense at all!” I snapped. “He was afraid of Sheila. He thought she was a sorceress or something. He’s the last one to go meeting her anywhere in the middle of the night.”
“And both of you are missing the most important point here,” Rita said. “Sheila was at my house the night she died, passed out in a drunken stupor. Why would she get out of bed and go over to her store for any reason at all in the middle of the night, dragging a hangover along with her, when I’d given her a nice soft bed to sleep it off in?”
We stared across the table at her, and it may have been just my imagination, but I thought I saw a funny look flit across her face before quickly disappearing again.
As usual, Jelly came up with something silly: “You didn’t put her in the Violet Room, did you?”
“Oh, right,” I said, “the ghost. Sheila didn’t even know about the ghost, did she?”
Rita’s funny look came back, and this time, it stayed.
“She did?” I said, surprised I’d hit the mark when I hadn’t really meant anything by it.
“When she came and asked to see the house,” Rita told us grudgingly, “she already knew about it. Somebody in town had told her. She asked to see the haunted bedroom, and I showed her.”
“And drunk as she was . . . ?” I began.
“My house is several blocks from the business district,” Rita said stiffly. “Why would she leave the house and go over to her shop in the middle of the night even if she did see a ghost?”
We thought about it.
“Did you hear her cellphone ringing?” Jelly asked. “Maybe somebody called her.”
“I sleep upstairs, and the Violet Room is on the ground floor. The house is solidly built. If she got a call, I never would have heard.”
“But if somebody did call her there would be a record of it,” I said excitedly. “Jack is checking on that, of course.”
“Her phone is pin-coded and subpoenas for that kind of thing are still taking forever,” Rita said. “But eventually, yes, Jack will find out if somebody called and lured her out of the house.”
We sat there for a while, thinking. Finally, I asked if anybody had anything else.
“I’ve had quite enough, thank you,” Jelly said. “I motion the meeting be closed.”
“I second the motion,” Rita said, and we signaled DeAnn that we’d meet her up at the cash register.
Chapter 33 – These Prison Walls
I walked Rita home, because I wanted to have a debrief about what Jelly had to say, but for some reason, Rita was distant. When we got to Whitby House, she didn’t even invite me in. And she wasn’t just being thoughtful; she looked worried.
I asked if we shouldn’t go over to the Police Station and see if Jack had actually arrested Jasper.
“You go ahead,” she told me. “There’s something I have to do.”
“Like what?”
“If it turns out to be something, I’ll let you know, I promise.”
“Are you going to make me do one of my patented interrogations on you?” I said. “You’ve seen me in action, remember. Whips, chains, strange fluids in hypodermics . . . .”
“Sounds like fun, but you know you’d never get anywhere, so let’s just skip it.”
I gave it a few more tries, but she wasn’t budging, so I finally gave up on her. For the moment.
I was feeling too impatient by then to walk back to Girlfriend’s for my SUV, and besides, the Whitby House was halfway to the Police Station. So I set off alone and on foot, in spite of the heat coming up off the sidewalk in waves. By the time I got inside the station, even the feeble air conditioning in that out-of-date building felt good against my sweaty skin.
I should have walked right in and given Brody a good spanking. Holding a gun to my head, however, would not have forced me to betray him to his boss. Sure, I was mad at him for gossiping on the job – and gossiping with Jelly instead of me – but I love that kid. He was just a rookie. He’d learn.
So instead of storming the Police Station and demanding that Audrey tell me where her bigmouth grandson was, I strolled in and charmingly inquired after the dear child from the one who loved him best.
“Oh, he’s shaping up to be a really great cop,” Audrey said, glowing and not suspecting a thing. “The Chief really likes him. And my Brody is being a really big help with this big investigation.”
“You mean the murder?”
“Wasn’t it awful?”
“Horrible. How is Brody helping? Canvassing the neighborhood and stuff like that?”
“Oh, you know, I can’t really go into official police business, but Brody’s a natural at questioning suspects and digging up informants.”
“Is he around, by the way?”
“The Chief?”
“I thought I’d say hi to Brody first.”
“He was in the supply room last time I saw him, looking for a new notebook. He filled up the old one.”
“I bet he did, with all the stuff he’s digging up about the murder. Mind if I go back and take a look?”
“Go ahead. You’re practically on the force yourself.”
I found him picking out a new pen and scribbling on a pad to see if he could get it to write.
“Brody!” I said. “Congratulations on the big catch.”
He shushed me, but he didn’t ask me how I’d found out. Jelly – naturally. He should have known better than to spill it to the town crier.
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “I’m not going to say anything about it here. I’m just worried about Jasper. He’s my friend, you know, and I can’t believe he’d do anything so awful.”
A commanding voice behind me spoke so suddenly I nearly screamed.
“What are you doing in here?” it asked, and I turned around to greet the Chief with a smile on my face.
“Don’t worry, I’m not stealing pencils,” I said. “I’m just saying hi to Brody. I happened to be nearby and I just dropped in to cool off. Your air conditioning is divine.”
He pouted at me. The inadequate HVAC in the repurposed library branch where the Police Station had been stashed by the City Council was a continuing source of frustration, especially around budget time.
“And I suppose you want to argue with me about my latest move?” he asked, glancing from me to Brody.
“What move is that?” I asked, hoping Brody wasn’t looking too guilty.
“Uh huh. Brody, get out there and help Lester with the search warrant. Kendra’s bringing in the suspect. And you,” he said, staring back at me. “In my office.”
He spun around and marched off smartly.
I turned my head just long enough to give Brody a wink, then I followed the big man to his office.
* * *
“I have a witness,” he told me as soon as we were seated.
“Oh, good. One that can see in the dark, of course. What did this witness see?”
He smiled. Not a happy smile. Not an adoring one, either. It was a gotcha smile, but I pretended it was a nice one and smiled back.
“I like loyalty in a person,” he began obliquely. “And don’t worry about Brody. I was a rookie once myself, remember.”
“Only too well, and Brody didn’t tell me anything,” I said stoutly. Since it was absolutely true, I’m sure I looked completely open and honest as I said it. “So it’s all hands on deck, huh? Even the night shift?”
Lester Lietz was a veteran patrolman who liked to work nights, and Kendra Longley was the final member of our intrepid force, and the daughter of our former County Sheriff.
“Even Lester,” Jack told me. “The witness didn’t come forward until long after his shift was over, and I had to pull him out of bed. So Brody didn’t tell you, huh? That means the news is all over town already and somebody else told you. I suppose the rest of Jasper’s fan club will be arriving soon?”
“I told them to just march up and down the sidewalk holding signs and yelling at passing cars. Naturally they elected me to come in and deal with you myself. Be serious, Jack. How can you possibly believe that a pet hamster like Jasper could hurt anybody, let alone use a gun or a box cutter on them?”
“I find it hard to believe too, but the witness is positive. It’s one of Jasper’s other fans, a surfer who makes it a point to go out and hear Jasper’s sunrise performance whenever he can. He knows Jasper.”
“And that might mean he jumped to the conclusion that it was Jasper, just because he saw someone who looked kinda-sorta like him. All he really saw was a small, wiry person who’s somewhat similar to Jasper. Have you forgotten the other dancing hillbilly?”
“I know, I know, the two cousins – or whatever the hell they are – do look sort of alike, but my witness knows Jasper, and he says he saw him.”
“When was this?”
“Sometime between two and 2:15 in the morning.”
“And why was this upstanding citizen wandering the alleys after two a.m.?”
“He wasn’t in the alley. He was walking down Sixth Street and he happened to look across at the service alley behind the shops when he saw a man trying to get into the back door of the nearest shop, which would be the antique shop.”
“Nobody was with him?”
“Not at that point, no.”
“From across the street. At two in the morning. In the half light of our antique streetlamps. Or – wait a minute – that service alley doesn’t even have streetlamps.”
“It has security lights over the back entries that come on when they sense motion; you know that. The light was on right above the guy’s head.”
“Putting his face in shadow, if he was looking down and fiddling around, trying to get in. Still, this witness says he got a good look at the man’s face?”
Pause. “It was a small man with scraggly hair, possibly gray or brown.”
“Well, gee, we don’t have many of those around here. I guess it must have been Jasper after all.”
He got testy. “You know, Taylor, I’m only telling you this as a courtesy. I shouldn’t be telling you anything at all.”
“It’s not like I can’t find out just by asking around; it would just take longer.”
He raised his eyes to heaven and let me rant.
“And what’s this guy’s excuse for roaming the streets at two a.m., anyway?”
Jack settled and gave me a steady look. “He’d been at his buddy’s house playing video games and lost track of the time. The buddy concurs.”
“The buddy ran out of beer, you mean, so he left. Could your witness’s blood alcohol level have been the reason he didn’t come forward sooner? Perhaps he didn’t hear about the murder until nearly lunchtime because he’d been face-down in bed, sleeping it off.”
“I’ve already taken that into consideration,” he said coolly. “I’m telling you, this fellow knows Jasper and he says it was him.”
“He saw a man who was built like Jasper, who had gray or possibly brown hair, by the light of an overhead security lamp in the middle of the night in a dark alley. Jack . . . ?”
He heaved an enormous, tortured sigh and pushed back in his chair. “Well, what do you want me to do, Taylor? Do a lineup of dancing hillbillies?”
“We’ve got enough of them around here. It’d be a start. Have you at least given this guy a look at Grady Grissom?”
“That’s not how lineups work. Actually, I’m planning one for later on today, and I’m going to include both Jasper and Grady. Look.” He set the chair down and leaned forward on the desk. “I know there’s room for doubt here. That’s why I’m not arresting Jasper yet. But this is good enough for a search warrant and another interview, and if we find anything, we’ll know where we are.”
“You will not know where you are! Grady has been living with Jasper. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Jack, I know it.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He stood up. “And while you’ve been asking all around town for what kind of evidence we’ve got, I’m surprised you haven’t talked to your friend Rita.”
I froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“And what about Ed? Ed . . . Darby-Whatever . . . the ghost guy? He hasn’t bothered to report in yet?”
“Ed? What about him?”
“You mean there’s something you don’t know? No wait, don’t say anything – just let me enjoy the moment.”
I did not let him enjoy the moment. I was up on my feet demanding to know what he’d meant about Rita and/or Ed, but he just stood there and smiled.
I’d done my best. I’d pushed Jack as far as he was going to go, and I’d failed. And Rita . . . Ed . . . ? What the hell?
I knew I hadn’t even made a dent, and the long arm of the law was even at that moment dragging my poor little friend out of his haven on the beach and bringing him in for questioning.
“Are you at least bringing in that no-good cousin of his, too?”
“I’ve got nothing on him. Yet. The witness was sure he saw Jasper, but like I told you, I plan on getting Cousin Grady into the same line-up, if only so he doesn’t take the opportunity to disappear on us. Stop that now, I will not tolerate a crying woman in my office.”
“I am not crying,” I quavered. “I’m just mad. And frustrated.”
I pivoted and made a tragic exit.
Chapter 34 – Violet Floats Onstage
Rita. My friend and collaborator. My fellow detective. She was talking to the police before she was talking to me?
I knew I was too wound up at the moment to tackle her right away, and besides, I actually had begun to cry, just a little. I needed to go back home, open a bottle of wine and get a grip on myself before I tackled Rita. I was going to have to be clear-headed when I did that because frankly, I knew she was better at this than I was.
In the meantime, I stomped my way toward Girlfriend’s through the beastly heat of mid-afternoon so I could get back to where I’d left my SUV. Rita had to be dealt with carefully. Edson Darby-Deaver, PhD, didn’t. I whipped my phone out and hit the contact listing with the icon of a cartoon ghost next to it.
“Taylor,” he answered breezily. “You really must stop reading my mind like this. I was just about to call you.”
“Cut the comedy, Ed,” I said, stomping ever more heavily along. “Why are you telling the cops things you haven’t already told me?”
“Amazing,” he whispered, sounding delighted. “And how did this information come to you?”
“From a cop. It wasn’t a push alert from the Great Beyond; sorry to disappoint you. Now tell me about it quick, because I’ve got other things to do. What have you been talking to Jack Peterson about?”
He a-hummed. “As a matter of fact,” – I could just see him straightening his glasses and making them crooked – “it was my duty to inform the Chief that I was, in fact, with Sheila Colson during the early morning hours of the day she was murdered, specifically, this past Saturday, from 1:35 until approximately 1:55 a.m.”
“Wait –” I stood still on the sidewalk for fifteen seconds. “You were there when she was killed?”
“Of course not. I was there before she was killed. She was not dead when I was with her, and I left her alive and well, therefore I was not there when she was killed. Ironically, she was afraid of a ghost, so she called me in the short interval before her own transition into ghost-hood. That point only hit me long afterward, but it’s rather jarring, isn’t it?”
“She called you? How did she get your number?”
“It’s a matter of public record, of course, (see my website), but in the course of my current, active investigation –”
“Yeah, Jasper gave her number to you,” I interlineated, trying to speed things up. I was stomping along the hot sidewalk again, passing under palm trees that gave no shade.
“Naturally,” he answered. “In the course of that investigation, I found it necessary to call Sheila, so I wangled the number out of my client, which let me tell you, wasn’t easy. He only keeps her number so he can identify the caller and refrain from answering, as she has been persistently calling. Past tense for the last sentence, of course, though there have been documented cases . . . .”
