Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 04 - With This Ring (21 page)

Stone and I both agreed with her plan. Andy was always willing to go with the flow, so he fell right in line with Wendy as they rushed back to his truck.

Stone and I mingled with the guests while waiting anxiously for Andy and Wendy to return with the insurance papers. I wouldn’t breathe easily until the original document was back inside the envelope and back in the desk.

I introduced Stone to two of Steiner’s sons, Teddy and Quentin. Teddy now seemed a little out of it. He wasn’t interested in chatting, so I turned to Quentin instead. “Quentin is a biology professor at Haskell University, Stone. He’s the son who played football in high school for Coach Webster. He told me he and his girlfriend like to ride their jet skis at Clinton Lake.”

“Oh, really?” Stone asked. “My friend, Wyatt Johnston, and I, have been there several times to go crappie fishing. We plan to go walleye fishing there this spring too. We’ve heard they like to hang around that little island in the middle of the lake.”

“I’ve heard that also,” Quentin said. “We don’t just go there to ride jet skis. We swim at the little beach, camp out in the state park, and I occasionally fish there too. Do you use worms or crank bait when you fish for walleye?”

I left them to discuss the benefits of using different kinds of bait, while I walked over to approach Bonnie and Harold Bloomingfield.

“Hello again, Bonnie. Are you enjoying the luncheon?” I asked.

“Yes, the barbeque is delicious, isn’t it?”

I hadn’t taken the time to eat, or even given food a second thought since arriving at the post-funeral gathering. “Yes, I think her potato salad is the best I’ve ever eaten.”

“Me too,” Bonnie said. “And we just had a slice of the lemon cake, which is divine.”

“I’ll have to try it.” I was happy to see Bonnie so much more lucid than earlier in the afternoon. It was almost like dealing with a schizophrenic. I never knew what personality she’d display when I spoke to her. I’d seen it change three times already on that day alone. The shock from having found her neighbor dead in his home must have subsided some. She was obviously having a better day now. Harold hung on to her arm protectively, but it was probably just a habit.

“How are you today, Harold?” I asked.

“Fine,” he said. He obviously was not going to elaborate on how fine he actually was, or make any further comments to me, so I excused myself after telling them it was nice to see them again and hoped they were enjoying the luncheon.

I headed to the beverage table for another cup of coffee. I’m not sure who had ended up making a fresh pot. Most likely Paula had made it herself. My nerves were still a little frayed from my experience in the basement. I wasn’t sure another hit of caffeine was going to help any, but decided to have some more anyway. Paula, who was still standing near the beverage table, stopped me as I turned to walk away. “Lexie, have you seen Andy?”

“No, not recently. I think I heard him tell Wendy that he needed to go pick up something at the inn. They should be back shortly.”

“Oh, good,” Paula said. “I forgot to tell him I registered Tiny’s litter with the American Kennel Club, but he’d have to complete an individual registration form for his new puppy. I have some of the forms in my desk, and I want to have him remind me to give him one when he picks up the pup in a couple weeks.”

“When I see him, I’ll tell him to remind you.”

“Oh, no, that’s all right. I’ll tell him myself. There are actually a few other things I want to speak to him about too,” she said.

I’ll bet there are, you brazen hussy!

* * *

Wendy and Andy were back at the luncheon within minutes. Paula spotted Andy the second he stepped back on to the patio. Wendy had no trouble returning the insurance papers to their rightful place while Paula flirted shamelessly with her boyfriend. I felt much relief knowing I’d barely squeaked by without being caught. I vowed to be more cautious in the future. I might not be as lucky the next time around. Instead of munching on lemon cake, I could just as easily be on my way back to the Heartland Memorial Hospital with lacerations sustained in a mauling by a mastiff. The very thought made my wrist begin to throb again.

* * *

As we pulled back into the drive at Alexandria Inn, Wyatt pulled in behind us in his patrol car. I was instantly glad Wendy had thought to whip up a batch of chocolate-chip cookies that morning. She and Andy had driven off in the opposite direction when the four of us left Paula’s house. They were heading back to Andy’s new property.

“How was the luncheon?” Wyatt asked as he took a seat at our kitchen table. He sat down in what I’d begun to think of it as “Wyatt’s chair” since he was about the only one who ever sat at the rear of the table with his back to the wall. He claimed it was a cop thing—they never liked to sit with their backs to the door. The guests were all served at the larger table in the dining room, so only Stone and I ever actually ate meals at the small table in the kitchen.

“The luncheon was fairly uneventful,” I said. Stone glanced up at me as I continued. “The food was delicious and a lot of people attended. Andy is planning to purchase one of Paula’s mastiff puppies.”

“Oh really? For how much?”

After I told him what I thought was an exorbitant amount, Wyatt shook his head and responded. “That much, huh? I knew there was a good reason I don’t own a dog. I can’t afford one on a police officer’s salary. I couldn’t afford to buy a mastiff puppy, much less feed one.”

“I think my nephew has taken leave of his senses,” Stone said. “But at least his new dog will have a lot of land to run around on.”

“Yeah, sounds like he will,” Wyatt agreed. “Wendy told me all about the property Andy just bought. Sounds impressive. Having gotten to know Andy a little, I think he’ll really enjoy his time at the ranch.”

I sat the platter of cookies down in the middle of the table, and said, “Yes, it really is very impressive. Some day when you’re off duty, we’ll take you out to see it. Here, Wyatt, have some cookies.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

While Wyatt gobbled down several cookies, I told him about the insurance policy papers I’d discovered at Paula’s house. I was very evasive about how I’d come to have a copy of Paula’s personal insurance document. I reached around to grab the copy of the policy, set it down in front of Wyatt, and said, “Do you think this is odd, or merely a coincidence? Check out the amount of the payoff and the date the policy was purchased.”

As I scurried about the kitchen, straightening up and wiping off counters, Wyatt studied the papers with an intense look on his face. He brushed some cookie crumbs off the front of his shirt before responding. “I suppose it could be a coincidence, but what are the odds of cashing in on a half million dollar policy just a month after securing one on an extremely healthy parent? I wonder if the chief, or any of the other investigators, know about this. They may want to give Paula a second look. Can I take this copy back to the station with me?”

“Of course.”

“I actually stopped by to tell you some news too,” Wyatt said.

I instantly pulled a chair out with my good hand and sat down at the table. I didn’t want to appear too over-anxious, so I brushed away a few cookie crumbs, straightened up the napkins in the napkin holder, and when I couldn’t contain myself any longer, asked, “What’s up?”

“I showed the chief the photos of those ledger sheets you forwarded to my phone. He sent me over to Betty Largo’s house to pick her up and bring her in for questioning. She was whimpering in the back seat of my patrol car all the way down to the station.”

“Did you handle the interrogation?” I wanted to know. “Was she booked?”

“Well, no, Lexie,” Wyatt said with a sigh. “She wasn’t booked. There will be charges coming down, no doubt, but she hasn’t been officially charged with anything yet. And she wasn’t exactly ‘interrogated.’ It was another detective who questioned her, but I listened in. It was very interesting. The investigation has taken on an entirely new twist. Your pastor had a whole different side to him that most, if not all, of his parishioners might not realize.”

I have a tendency to munch on snacks when I’m excited and distracted, so I was shoving in chocolate-chip cookies even faster than Wyatt was. Suddenly I didn’t care how anxious I appeared. Around a mouth full of cookie, I said, “Tell us about it!”

“Betty came clean about her involvement in ‘cooking the books,’ and claimed she wasn’t alone in the scheme. In fact, the idea to embezzle money from the church wasn’t even her idea. According to Betty, she was asked to participate in pilfering the money by no other than the deceased pastor himself, Thurman Steiner.”

“To pay off gambling debts?” I asked.

Both Wyatt and Stone turned to stare at me in amazement. I was so giddy, I was on the edge of my chair when Stone asked, “What makes you say that?”

Then Stone turned his astonished expression toward Wyatt when the detective asked me, “How did you know he had gambling debts?”

“Just a hunch,” I responded. No way was I going to offer up the story of going alone to Teddy’s motel room and having a run-in with Harley’s goons. I had gotten into enough trouble the last few days without stirring up even more for myself.

“Well, yes,” Wyatt said. “You’re right, Lexie. Steiner had been betting on horses and also spending a lot of his spare time down at the riverboat casinos. He’d gotten in too deep and asked Betty if she’d agree to skim twenty-five percent off the top and split it with him fifty-fifty. She told the detective she balked at the deal and refused to be involved in his swindling for a long time, but he finally wore her down and she relented. They’d been embezzling the money for about six months when the pastor was killed. Betty was hoping she’d be able to cover up the crime by destroying the second ledger that held the actual figures in it. She said she’d kept that book only for her own records and never meant for anyone else to ever see it, but I think that goes without saying. Betty Largo may have been too efficient for her own good.”

“Did the investigators tell Betty where the photos of the ledger sheets came from?” I asked. If Betty was willing to go along with an agreement as she had with the pastor, what else was she willing to do to the individual who had turned her in?

“No, of course not,” Wyatt said. “She was left with the impression a detective had come across the ledgers in a routine search of the church property immediately following Steiner’s death. She has no idea of your involvement.”

Stone let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I was a little worried about that aspect of it. It’s not that I’d worry about an act of retribution by Betty, or anything of that nature. But I don’t particularly want word of our snooping in her office to get around. That wouldn’t make us look much better than she does as an embezzler.”

“Yeah, I don’t want word of our involvement getting around either,” I said, even though I didn’t see that what we’d done was on par with embezzling money from a church.

Wyatt nodded. “I understand, but there’s no need to worry.”

“Is Betty considered a suspect now in Steiner’s death?” I asked. “It seems like she would have a motive to kill him. She might have wanted out of the arrangement before they were caught, and been afraid Steiner might harm her if she tried to back out. On the other hand, she may have gotten greedy and wanted to continue skimming, keeping the entire amount to herself.”

“So far there’s nothing that ties Betty Largo to the murder. She claims she was at home asleep in bed with her husband at the time of the murder, exactly where one would expect her to be at five in the morning. Mr. Largo will be questioned, too, to corroborate her alibi. Betty claims he knew nothing about the embezzlement agreement, and that she was depositing the money in an account she’d set up in her own name. So far she looks to be guilty of theft but not murder. But she’s not out of the woods yet, by any means.”

“How about Harley, the bookie?” I asked, “Have you questioned him?”

Again both sets of eyes turned to stare at me in astonishment. I hadn’t thought about what I was about to reveal before I blurted it out. If I weren’t careful, I’d have myself backed into a corner and have to relate the entire incident that took place at the Sands Motel.

“Who’s Harley?” The two men spoke in unison.

“Well, uh, you see—”

“Yes?” Again the question was asked in stereo. I knew I needed to tread lightly with my response.

“I was chatting with Teddy and he told me he owed some money to a bookie named Harley from Topeka. It was money he lost on a bet on the horse races. He told me he was really hoping ‘the money,’ as he put it, would come in soon so he wouldn’t be harmed, or worse, by the bookie’s two goons, Rocky and Spike. Pastor Steiner moved to Rockdale from Topeka, and I doubt there are any bookies in the small town of Rockdale. So it stands to reason he might have had dealings with Harley too. Owing money to a bookie can be dangerous, even deadly.” I could tell by Stone’s expression he was wondering why this was the first time he’d heard about my conversation with Teddy, and about Harley, Teddy’s bookie.

“Do you know Harley’s last name?” Wyatt asked.

“No, but Teddy probably does, and being in debt to a bookie could be a strong motive for Teddy to murder his father for his share of the insurance money.”

“I’ll ask them to bring Teddy back in for further questioning. He never mentioned any gambling debts in his first interview. I’d say both he and his sister, Paula, could use a little more scrutiny. Good job, Lexie.”