Amy Patricia Meade - Marjorie McClelland 02 - Ghost of a Chance (29 page)

Kenneth jumped out of his chair. “That’s not what happened!”
he exclaimed.

“Shh! Sit down!” his brother ordered.

“No, Charlie! They think we did it. They think we killed Nussbaum.”

“Pull yourself together, Ken,” the bespectacled man beseeched.
“Detective Jameson has no proof that we were involved in Nussbaum’s murder. He’s simply theorizing.”

“That’s close enough to an accusation for my liking.” Kenneth
appealed to Robert: “Look, Charlie and I thought about killing
Nussbaum, but it didn’t happen that way-not the way you said.”

“Ken!” the elder Cullen shouted.

“Sorry, Charlie, but it’s time we came clean … with everything.”

“Go on,” Jameson urged.

Kenneth Cullen sat back in his chair. “You’re right, my brother
and I had planned to kill Nussbaum-we even brought a gun with
us. The idea was to wait until Nussbaum made the switch and then
follow him as he left the fairgrounds. When we were far enough
from the crowd, we would shoot him, take the cash and then go
back to the Ferris wheel for the formula. It was a perfect plan, and
it would have worked, too, only… only Nussbaum never got off the
Ferris wheel. He boarded the green car as planned, and we watched
as he bent down to switch the formula for the cash, but, all of a
sudden, he sat up and slapped his neck, as though a bug had bitten him. He didn’t make a move after that. We assumed it was because he had successfully made the trade. We didn’t think anything
was wrong until the woman operating the Ferris wheel started to
scream and we saw Nussbaum lying on the ground. Needless to say,
we got out of there as soon as we could.”

Jameson bit his lip. “Pretty story.”

“It’s true,” Kenneth insisted. “If it weren’t, you wouldn’t have that
formula right now.”

“And the cash?”

“Still under the cushion of the green car. We came back for it
last night, but some man must have heard us. He came out of the
church to investigate.”

“So you clobbered him with a tire iron,” Marjorie surmised.

“Not a tire iron, a crow bar,” Kenneth admitted. “We brought it
with us in case we needed to pry open a crate or a lock. I tried not
to hit the fellow too hard-just enough to stun him. Is he okay?”

“A concussion and an ugly bump to the head,” Jameson answered. “But you took a chance. The gentleman you attacked is getting on in years; a blow to the head might have been fatal.”

I didn’t know he was an old man until after I hit him,” Kenneth offered as defense.

“That `old man’ is also a minister,” Noonan countered. “A man
of the cloth.”

“Terrific,” Charles muttered. “Now not only do the police have
it in for us, but God does too.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to apologize to the man upstairs while
you’re in prison,” Jameson quipped. “Lock’em up, boys.”

Two burly officers grabbed the brothers by the arms and handcuffed them.

“Wait!” Kenneth screamed. “You can’t do this! What are you
locking us up for?”

“Assault and fraud for starters”

“But you said if I told you everything, you’d go easy on us”

“No, I said I’d think about it.”

“Nice going, Ken,” Charles griped as the policemen led them
toward the door to the holding area. “You talked us right into the
gallows.”

“He gave me his word!”

“Oh, shut up.”

Marjorie and Jameson stood among the crates and trailers on the
fairgrounds, watching as Noonan, kneeling upon the grass, felt beneath the cushion of the green compartment. The Ferris wheel had been dismantled and all the passenger cars now rested upon the
ground.

“I feel something,” the officer declared as he thrust his arm, up
to the elbow, into the narrow recess between the upholstery and the
metal bench, “but I can’t reach it. It’s pretty far back. It must have
slid back there when they took this thing apart.”

“Let me try,” Marjorie offered.

Noonan extricated himself from the padding and moved aside
to allow the young woman a chance at the parcel. Marjorie pushed
her slender, bare arm through the tight opening with little difficulty and felt around until the cool hardness of the metal bench
was replaced with the supple resilience of cloth. “I got it!” With a
deft motion, she grabbed the fabric in her fist and gave it a firm tug.
Marjorie’s hand emerged in the fading daylight. Clutched in it was
a burlap bag.

Jameson grabbed the sack and turned it upside down. Two thin
stacks of tightly bound one hundred dollar bills tumbled out onto
the ground.

“Why, look at that,” Marjorie commented as she rose from the
kneeling position. “Bank night!”

“Is that $10,000?” Jameson asked his officer.

“How should I know what $10,000 looks like?”

“Count it.”

Noonan set about the task and carefully counted out one hundred, one-hundred-dollar bills. “Yep, that’s it. Looks like the brothers’ story checks out.”

Jameson pulled a face. “Still doesn’t mean they didn’t kill Nussbaum. They could have miscalculated.”

“I admit they’re no criminal masterminds,” Marjorie argued,
“but to kill Nussbaum before he even exited the Ferris wheel? It’s
difficult to conceive of anyone making that big a blunder.”

Jameson sighed. “Then it’s back to square one.”

A faint voice crackled from the police radio in Jameson’s squad
car. The detective ran to the vehicle to retrieve it. When he returned
a few moments later, his mood had darkened and a frown had
fixed itself across his face. “That was headquarters. Logan just telephoned.”

“What’s wrong?” Marjorie asked.

“It’s Natalie Nussbaum. She’s been poisoned.”

BERNICE NussBAUM WAS SEATED in the emergency room waiting
area of Massachusetts General Hospital. Detective Logan stood a
few yards away from her, scribbling notes in a small memo pad.
Jameson gave the detective a firm pat on the back.

He looked up from his notebook. “Hey, Bob. Didn’t expect to
see you here so soon.”

“I left as soon as I heard,” Robert explained. “Mike, this is Officer Noonan, my partner with the Hartford County Police Department. Noonan, this is Detective Logan. And you remember Marjorie, of course.” The threesome exchanged greetings. “So, what have
we got?”

Logan filled them in on the details. “Family came home from
the wake and found a box of chocolates on their doorstep. Girl ate
a couple of the chocolates. Half an hour later, she was as sick as a
dog. Her mother called for the doctor, thinking it was food poisoning. The doctor recognized the symptoms immediately and ordered an ambulance. He also requested that the chocolates be analyzed.
Good thing he did, too-they were laced with arsenic.”

“Arsenic!” Marjorie gasped. “How is she?”

“It was close, but she’ll be okay. Doctor says she’s resting comfortably.”

“Did any of your men happen to see who delivered them?”
Jameson asked.

“No,” Logan replied. “They were busy watching the mother and
the two kids at the wake. And I was busy babysitting Josie Saporito-
or Nussbaum as she insists on being called.” He placed a hand on his
lower back and shook his head in disbelief. “I tell ya, Bob, that was
the most work I’ve ever done at a funeral. Minute I got back to the
station, I called my wife and asked her to pick up some liniment.
Do you know, she didn’t believe me? Said I must have been up to no
good to throw my back out again! Can you imagine?”

Marjorie and Noonan snickered to each other, while Robert patted his friend on the back again. “I’m sorry, Mike,” he started. “I’ll be
sure to put in a good word with your wife when this whole thing is
over.

Logan winced in pain. “Yeah, thanks, Bob. I’d appreciate it.”

The group approached Bernice. Logan, walking gingerly, lagged
behind the rest of the foursome, but eventually caught up.

“I’m sorry to hear about your daughter, Mrs. Nussbaum,”
Jameson apologized.

“Thank you” she sniffed as she dabbed at her moist eyes with
the corner of a handkerchief. “The doctor says it was arsenic. Can
you believe it? Arsenic! He said it was in those chocolates. First Alfred and now this! I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“If there’s anything we can do…”

“There is something you can do.” Her voice became scolding.
“You can stop pestering me and my son and arrest that `Josie’ per„
son.

“She’s already in jail, Mrs. Nussbaum. What else do you want
me to charge her with?”

“Murder, attempted murder … God only knows what else! She
killed Alfred and now she’s poisoned my Natalie. Herbert and I
would never have done this! I love my daughter and Herbert loves
his sister. It’s obvious Josie is the one behind this whole thing.”

“What reason could Josie have for poisoning your daughter?”

“Do I need to draw you a picture? The woman hates me! Why,
she and I had a fight just this afternoon-only a few hours before
Natalie ate the chocolates. Coincidence? Not very likely!”

“As much as I’d like to charge someone in this case, Mrs. Nussbaum, I can’t do so without evidence. Now, these chocolates that
Natalie ate-I understand they were delivered to your house while
you were at the wake.”

“That’s right. We came home and they were on our doorstep.”

“Did they arrive in the mail or were they hand delivered?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “I told you we were out when they
arrived.”

“Yes, I know, but did you happen to notice if the box was postmarked?”

“No,” Bernice replied, “no, I don’t think it was. The box was
wrapped in plain brown paper and addressed to Natalie, but I don’t
think there was a postmark.”
“

I don’t suppose there was a return address,” Noonan said hopefully.

Mrs. Nussbaum shook her head. “Just a note inside, saying that
they were from a secret admirer.”

“Your daughter wasn’t suspicious?”

“Natalie’s a smart girl, Detective, but she’s just that-a girl. She
didn’t give a second thought about the chocolates. She was swept
away with the romantic notion that she might have a secret beau.”
She slid her eyes toward Marjorie. “You know how it is at her age.
Boys are the most important things in the world.”

Marjorie nodded sympathetically.

“Silly really,” Bernice went on. “Especially when you come to
realize what men are really like.”

“What about you, Mrs. Nussbaum?” Jameson continued. “Didn’t
you think there was something odd about a box of chocolates appearing on your doorstep?”

“I had my misgivings initially, but Natalie was so happy. It was
the first time in four months that I had seen her smile…” She added
defensively, “I never dreamed they might be poisoned. If I had…”
Her voice trailed off as she brought the hankie to her mouth. “Really, Detective, when will you arrest that woman?”

“I told you, she’s already in jail.”

“When will you charge her with murder?”

“When I have enough evidence to prove that she killed your
husband and poisoned Natalie.”

“Evidence! What more evidence do you need? Who else would
have poisoned Natalie?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Nussbaum, but considering she’s been in
jail for the past twenty-four hours, I can’t imagine it was Josie. Now,
can you think of anyone else who might have done it?”

A strange chill took Marjorie. She looked up to see Herbert
Nussbaum lurking in the doorway of the waiting room. He yielded
a self-satisfied grin before retreating to whence he had come.

“Someone who wanted her out of the way,” Marjorie suggested
as she watched the figure of Herbert disappear down the corridor.
“Tell me, what did Natalie know about her father’s murder?”

“Nothing,” Bernice answered sharply. “She didn’t know anything.”

“This afternoon, at the funeral parlor, when speaking with Mr.
Ashcroft,” Jameson pursued, “Natalie expressed guilt for something
she had done. What did she feel guilty about, Mrs. Nussbaum?”

“I don’t know.”

Marjorie knelt before the woman. “Please, Bernice. There’s already been one attempt on your daughter’s life. If you know something, tell us!”