A Murder of Crows (3 page)

“Okay, Prudence. I’m going to let you go, now. Why don’t you just take a table, practice some deep breathing to calm yourself, and I’ll bring you a menu.”

Over Red’s shoulder, I saw Mrs. Delite nod.

Both Red and I stepped back, and Sonny’s widow turned to face us, her eyes still filled with desperation.

I took another step back.

Okay, then, I thought. Crazy woman in first throes of grief. If you don’t have a stun gun to protect yourself, back way up and give her some space.

The bell over Millie’s front door jingled again, and I turned to see who it was. Two policemen walked in, one of them holding out a stun gun.

“Smart man,” I told him. “You must be with her,” I added, pointing at the new widow as Red ushered her across the deli to a table along the back wall.

“You’re under arrest,” he said to me.

“What?” Alan’s deep voice rose behind me as he stood up from his chair at our table.

The patrol officer and I looked at Alan.

He had a burp rag over one shoulder, dark circles under his eyes, and a sleeping Baby Lou in his arms who was drooling creamy formula over his sleeve. He didn’t exactly look threatening, unless you were contemplating having children.

In that case, he looked terrifying.

“Sit down, Alan,” Luce said to him, directing him back to his seat with her fork. “Bobby can handle this.”

Alan dropped carefully back into his chair so as not to disturb his daughter’s nap. “Thank goodness Louise is sleeping,” he said, “I’d hate for her to see her uncle getting arrested.”

“Are you really arresting me?” I asked the officer. I held up my palms in defense. “I didn’t even touch anyone. I was just trying to help out.”

“And doing a bang-up job at it, too,” said a third policeman as he walked into Millie’s.

“Hey, Rick!” Luce greeted the newcomer.

The policeman walked past me and over to Luce, where he leaned over to drop a kiss on my lovely wife’s cheek.

“It was his idea,” the patrolman in front of me said, nodding towards Rick. “Says he’s a close personal friend of yours, and that you’ve always wanted to be arrested.”

“You’re a jerk, Stud,” I said to Savage High School’s own Officer Rick Cook, my birding pal and regular pick-up basketball opponent. “Quit hitting on my wife.”

He ignored me as he admired Baby Lou and dropped a kiss on her tiny forehead, too.

“And my niece,” I added.

“Don’t worry, Bob,” Alan assured me. “Rick knows that if he messes with my daughter, I’ll break every bone in his body.”

“Are you kidding me?” Rick asked. “Your wife would take me apart first. By the way, I like the burp rag over the shoulder. It’s a good look for you.”

I glanced across the diner to the table where Red had seated Mrs. Delite. The woman seemed to have collected herself and was quietly sipping a steaming cup of tea with the two policemen seated across from her.

“What was that all about?” I asked Rick, sitting back down at our table and tipping my head in Mrs. Delite’s direction.

“Not sure,” he responded. “I heard your name on my scanner this morning, hightailed it out to the Arboretum and got there after you left, about the same time as Mrs. Delite showed up.”

He pulled out the fourth chair at our table and sat down.

“She insisted she had to see the man who found her husband, and since you’d told Kurt—he’s the silver-haired officer with Mrs. Delite over there—you were heading here, we hopped in the squad car, and here we are.”

I thought I had recognized the older policeman from earlier this morning when the local authorities had descended on us at the Arboretum, which was why I didn’t think much of it when he said he was going to arrest me. Both Luce and I had given full accounts of finding Sonny’s body and confirmed each other’s whereabouts for the last twelve hours. If the police had suddenly found evidence that I’d killed Sonny Delite, I was sure curious to hear what it was.

“So you came along for moral support?” I asked Rick. “Or just to play a practical joke on me?”

“A little of both,” he replied. “Not much going on in Savage this morning. You’re where the action is, Bob. Again. Lenzen is going to love this,” he grinned, tipping his chair back on two legs.

“Don’t remind me,” I told him.

It had been over a year since the last time our assistant principal had threatened me with suspension because of my involvement with murder cases, and I wasn’t looking forward to sitting through another lecture from the man.

Yes, I knew that staff being connected with murders in any way at all was frowned upon.

Yes, I knew that staff should always be mindful of public image.

No, I wasn’t a serial killer masquerading as a high school counselor.

Although, maybe I could turn that around and use the idea for my costume this year at the annual faculty Halloween party. Usually, I had my costume figured out at least a month early, but this year, I’d been so busy helping students make schedule changes, I hadn’t had the time to think about the party. A serial killer costume would be pretty easy to put together, too. I bet I could borrow a hockey mask from our athletic department. Or maybe a buzz saw from the construction trades class.

I realized that Rick was waiting for me to say something else, so I put the serial killer costume idea on the back burner.

For now.

“So Mrs. Delite wants to talk with me,” I confirmed with Rick.

He nodded.

“Any guess as to why she slapped Red?”

Rick shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe she didn’t like the service the last time she was here.”

“She just lost her husband,” Luce sympathized. “I think it’s safe to say that the woman is extremely distraught.”

“Good point,” Rick said. He turned to me. “Hey, aren’t you a counselor? Maybe you should go counsel, or something.”

I opened my mouth to make a smart reply, but Luce cut me off. “You know, that’s not a bad idea, Bobby,” my wife said. “I’m sure Mrs. Delite could use a comforting word right about now. You’re always so good about that kind of thing. I think you should go talk to her.”

That was my wife, all right: all heart. I sighed in resignation.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I took another look across the room at Mrs. Delite. She sat silently at the table, her eyes gazing vacantly ahead.

“Do you think she’s going to slap me?” I asked Luce. “I haven’t been trained in defensive moves like Red has.”

“Go talk to her,” my wife commanded me.

“Arf,” I replied.

Luce pushed me out of my chair.

I rehearsed a few opening lines in my head.

“Hello, I’m the man who found your husband. I have to ask, though—who dressed him this morning? He was a dead ringer for a scarecrow. Oops—poor choice of words. Can I suggest the Reuben sandwich for lunch?”

I wound through the four tables between my own and Mrs. Delite’s. Millie’s isn’t a big place, but that’s one of the reasons I’d always loved it. Not only is the food delicious, but the whole place has that cozy feel of a small town diner where you know everyone’s name, and they know yours. You go there a few times, and Chef Tom and his staff take such good care of you, you’d think they were family.

Only nicer.

In all the years I’d been going to Millie’s, Red hadn’t kicked me in the shins even once the way my sister routinely did.

Although I bet she could. After watching her handle Prudence Delite, I wondered what other hidden talents our favorite waitress possessed.

I extended my hand to Mrs. Delite.

“I’m Bob White. I’m so sorry for your loss. I knew your husband, and he was a fine man.”

She looked blankly at my hand, then lifted her puffy eyes to my face.

“Actually, he wasn’t,” she corrected me, her voice soft and her eyes teary. “He was a lying, cheating, egotistical excuse for a man. But I loved him. I really did. I would have done anything for him. Anything at all.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out, so I closed it again.

I glanced at the two policemen, but they both had their eyes glued to the blue-and-white checkered tablecloth.

Smart men.

“So, maybe, condolences are not in order?” I carefully suggested.

What was I supposed to say? Congratulations, the louse is out of your life?

“Oh, Prudence, you don’t mean that,” Red said, appearing beside me and sliding a plate of eggs and ham in front of Mrs. Delite. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying, Bob. She adored Sonny. She’s clearly in shock.” She patted Mrs. Delite’s shoulder. “Pru, you eat up, okay? It’s all organic, and your morning tea’s almost ready.”

The new widow obediently picked up her fork and knife … and just stared at her platter.

I noticed the two policemen sliding looks at Prudence, and then at each other. Officer Kurt tapped me on the arm.

“That’s why we’re accompanying her,” he explained in a lowered voice. “She was just about hysterical at the Arboretum, and we didn’t want her driving herself anywhere, so we offered to bring her over to talk to you. When a woman’s that devoted to her husband, we always worry a little about her … hurting herself, if you know what I mean.”

He looked gratefully at the plate of chocolate chip-banana pancakes that Red laid at his place.

“And I really needed some pancakes,” he added.

I looked back at Mrs. Delite to find her staring at me.

“I’m glad you found him,” she said, sniffing as she dabbed a tissue at the corners of her eyes. “At least I know where he is, now. That was always so hard on me, when he would be gone for days at a time … championing some environmental cause like it was a life-or-death quest. I felt so alone. And now, without him, I just don’t …”

“I called him Don Quixote,” Red interrupted in a bright voice, clearly trying to divert the conversation and the direction of Prudence’s thoughts. “You know, jousting at windmills. That was his latest crusade, in fact: wind turbines. He told me all about it when they were in here for lunch yesterday.”

The deli’s doorbell chimed, and Red glanced to see who had walked in. She gave a little wave and turned back to me to finish her comment.

“Did you know that wind energy companies have to get environmental approval before they put up wind farms these days? Apparently, if the turbine towers are located near nesting spots or migratory routes, they can kill a lot of birds.” She shook her head. “Really, it seems like if it’s not one thing, it’s another, with alternative energy sources. Maybe we should all just go back to lighting candles, using iceboxes, and staying home.”

Sonny’s widow threw an anguished look at Red.

“You just hang in there, honey,” our waitress consoled Prudence. “We’ll get you through this. Remember, you just take one step at a time.” She hustled away to help another table of new customers.

Mrs. Delite let out a heavy sigh. “One step at a time,” she softly repeated.

“Sonny was working with wind energy?” I asked her, hoping to keep her distracted from more tears.

She nodded and sniffed again.

“That’s why we were here in town, Mr. White,” she told me. “We were attending the Study of Alternative Sustainable Sources conference at the Arboretum. Sonny was supposed to lead a session,” she paused to take a deep shuddering breath, “this afternoon, about the ecological impact of wind energy farms.”

She shot another bleak glance at Red as our waitress retreated to the kitchen with a fresh pile of brunch orders. Her gaze lingered on Red’s back a moment, and then she took another deep breath, which seemed to help her regain some of her composure.

“The truth,” she continued slowly, choosing her words carefully, “is that Sonny made a lot of enemies over the years with his environmental advocacy. And Red made such a big deal about the turbines at lunch yesterday, she might as well have announced it over a public address system that Sonny was going to be … personally responsible … for the loss of hundreds of jobs in the Minnesota energy industry. As far as I’m concerned, Red painted a target on my husband, and somebody jumped at the opportunity to kill him before he put more people out of work.”

I glanced again at the policemen, who were both devouring their weekend specials. Neither one seemed particularly interested in what Mrs. Delite had to say.

“So he was murdered? You know that for a fact?”

“No confirmation on that,” Kurt said around a mouthful of his breakfast potatoes. “But Mrs. Delite here says her husband had no pre-existing health issues, so the medical examiner will be doing an autopsy. At this point, all we know for sure is that you found a dead man.”

He paused.

“A dead man who was an acquaintance of yours,” he added.

“That looks pretty lousy, doesn’t it?” I asked, already knowing what he’d say.

Unfortunately, I’d found enough bodies in my life to know that having a relationship with the deceased was definitely not a point in your favor when you were the one to find the body. Maybe I was going to have to make that a condition of acquaintance when I met someone: Hello, I’m Bob White, but I can only become your friend if you promise I won’t find you dead.

“Not in your case,” Kurt replied, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “You’ve got a reputation with the local police departments for being a body-finder. Nobody takes you seriously as a suspect. You’re a high school counselor, for crying out loud.”

I didn’t know if I should be relieved.

Or insulted.

Counseling drama queens may not be the most glamorous job in the world, I know, but I take a lot of pride in what I do. Shepherding kids through the teen years is no piece of cake. I deal with dysfunctional families, suicidal teenagers, bullies, and world-class slackers. At a minimum, I deserve some respect for my dedicated efforts in molding young people into mostly law-abiding, albeit often unemployed, members of society. And combat pay for chaperoning dances wouldn’t be completely out of line, either.

“Remind me to call you for a character reference after my boss goes ballistic when he hears about this,” I said. “I think he’s convinced himself that I’m a walking public relations disaster just waiting to implode at Savage High School.”

“What makes you so sure that Lenzen is even going to hear about this little encounter of yours?” Rick asked, coming up behind me and clapping me on the shoulder. “It’s not like your name will be released to the media, Bob.”