Murder in the Library (13 page)

“So, there were two
calls, and Tom Johnson made both of them. Are you sure?”

“That’s what the
computer says.”

“Is it always right?”

“I’ve never known it to
be wrong. Besides, if possible, we send the same man back for a second call
unless there was a problem the first time.”

“Do you have any idea
where Tom might be now?”

“No, like I told the cop
that called before, Tom left suddenly to take care of his ailing mother. He
acted like he’d be back as soon as she got to feeling better.”

“What kind of a worker
was Tom?”

“Really knew his stuff.
Of course, he came with a good recommendation from another pest control company
out of state. We checked him out before we hired him. Never had anyone complain
about Tom. Always did his work right. Always on time.”

I pocketed the new
picture, and Lou and I left. It was past time for lunch.

It was a little after 2:00 when we slid down off our stools and exited the Blue Moon. I knew that school let out
at 2:45, so we drove out to the county high school to get our first look at a
man I hated before I ever met him. As soon as we arrived, Lou and I stopped in
the office, let them know that we were investigating a murder, and that we were
there to question Michael Belding. We received puzzled looks from the student
worker and the secretary. I wanted to smile, but didn’t. My request for a
picture brought the principal into the proceedings.

“Is Michael a suspect?”

“A lot of people are
suspects. We just need pictures of everyone on our list.”

Reluctantly, the
principal complied.

I asked for directions
to Belding’s classroom, and was told that school was almost over and was asked
to wait until after school let out before we questioned Belding. We agreed, but
told the principal we wanted to be outside Belding’s room when school ended, so
he couldn’t slip away without us seeing him. This statement brought more
curious looks.

+++

More than one student
looked us up and down as the bell rang, school ended, and they flooded the
hallway.  We waited until the traffic flow lessened, and stepped into the
classroom just as a man attempted to leave.

“Can I help you with
something?”

“You can if you’re
Michael Belding.”

“I am, and who might you
be. I don’t do consultations with parents without an appointment. I’d be glad
to make an appointment for you for another time.”

“Now’s good, and we’re
not parents. We’re police.”

“Police? Has one of my
students gotten in trouble?”

“No, we’re here to talk
to you.”

“About what?”

“About James Buckham
Hardesty.”

“Oh, him.”

“Yes, him. As I
understand it, you didn’t like him.”

“That’s right. He cost
me my job at the university.”

“And you threatened to
get even.”

“A lot of people make
threats. Let’s just say I didn’t cry a lot when I found out he died.”

It took all my
self-control to keep from hitting him.

“When did you find out,
Mr. Belding? When you watched him die?”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“You weren’t at school
when he died. Where were you?”

My statement was a
bluff. Either Belding knew when the Colonel died, or he didn’t, but I wasn’t
ready for his answer.

“I was sick that day. I
was home in bed.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Just the dog. Does he
count?”

“Mr. Belding, I don’t
think you understand the serious nature of our visit. Would you feel better if
we talked downtown?”

“No, it’s just that I’m
still mad. That man cost me my job. I could’ve amounted to something.”

“I imagine you yourself
cost you that job, and I doubt if you’d amount to more than you do now.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Listen, Belding, we
have a picture of you. We’ll be showing it around, and if we find anyone who
saw you in the area of the murder, we’ll be hauling you downtown.”

“I’ll have your badge.”

“I don’t think you’re
man enough to wear it. Just watch your step. I assume you’ve heard those
stories about what happens to men in prison.”

“Get out of my room.”

“I will, but if we find
anyone who can place you in the vicinity of the murder, we’ll be back to get
you.”

With that, I turned and
Lou followed me out the door.

It took me a few minutes
of sitting in the car before I calmed down. I didn’t like that man, whether he
murdered the Colonel, or not.

+++

I ate enough candy while
I sat in the car and fumed that I made the Midtown Market our next stop. Lou
picked up a couple bags of M&Ms while he was there. He had even cut back on
the amount of candy he was eating.

Next, we wanted to check
out the house where Tom Johnson lived before he left town. I stopped by a pay
phone and called Sam. He gave me the address. It was a street I’d seldom driven
down, but I knew where it was.

I pulled up, looked at
the house. Actually, it was a duplex. According to the address Sam gave me,
Johnson rented the right side. The windows were still bare, so evidently no one
had moved in yet.

I walked up to the unit
on the left, rang the bell. A woman came to the door. I identified myself and
asked her what she could tell me about Johnson.

“Evidently he was quiet.
Occasionally I heard someone over there, but most of the time, nothing.”

“How often did you see
Mr. Johnson?”

“Come to think of it, I
think I only saw him once. See I work and he worked, and I think we had
different schedules.”

“Miss Elliott, I’d like
for you to look at these pictures and tell me if any of them is a picture of
Mr. Johnson, and if you recognize any of the other men.”

“Sorry, can’t say that
any of them is the guy I saw coming out one night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You mean one of
them is this Mr. Johnson, who was supposed to be renting the place?”

“That’s right, but maybe
the person you saw was someone visiting him.”

“Could be. Sorry I can’t
help you more.”

“That’s okay. If you
think of anything else, just call the department.”

Lou and I turned away
just as a man was coming out of the house next door, the house next to
Johnson’s side of the duplex. I caught his attention, and Lou and I hurried
over to question him.

“Yeah, I seen somebody
in there a few times. Actually a couple of guys, but not at the same time. But
there was something funny about that place.”

“Funny? How do you
mean?”

“Well, it was like no
one actually lived there. I remember one time this one guy came in, and a
little while later, this other guy left. I never did see the one guy leave,
even the next morning, but I saw him come in the next night, then I didn’t see
either one of them for a while.”

“What did the two guys
look like?”

“One of them was sort of
thin, the other more muscular.”

“Mr. Simons, I’d like
for you to look at these pictures and tell me if you see either of the men you
saw enter or leave the house, and if you recognize any of the men from anywhere
else.”

“This one. I saw him two
or three times. Mainly coming in the house at night. Never saw him leave, but
once.”

I took the picture from
Simons, noted that he’d identified Johnson, the man the woman on the other side
of the duplex had never seen.

“But none of these are
the other man you saw leave?”

“Nope. This guy’s the
only one.”

“Well, thank you for
your help. Let us know if you think of anything else, or see any of these men
again. Just call the department. They’ll get in touch with me.”

Lou and I checked with a
few of the other neighbors, but like most neighborhoods these days, no one
could tell me anything about anyone who lived in the right side of the duplex.

+++

It was getting close to
supper time. We’d wait to see Joe Guilfoyle, the Colonel’s friend, the next
day. He was retired. We expected to catch him in the daytime. Same for the
Hoskins, only we’d have to catch them after they got home from work. We also
wanted to show the pictures to Martha and the rest of her household, but most
of them would be gone during the day Tuesday. We’d wait until late afternoon to
pay her another visit. It looked like Tuesday would be just as busy for us as
Monday. With all the leg work we were doing, I hoped that we’d soon crack the
case.

+++

As I drove Lou home, we
discussed our plans for the next day. We agreed to do something we seldom did
in a murder investigation. We planned to take the morning off and spend time
with our new friends at Scene of the Crime. At 10:00, anyone who wanted could attend and take part in the roundtable discussion of books we’d read and authors
we’d recommend. Lou and I were the new guys on the block. Most everyone else
had been a part of the group for at least close to a year, but we were made to
feel like one of the gang from the beginning. Still, as far as we knew, no one
in the group knows what we did for a living. And just as well.

Because Lou and I felt
like we were lagging behind the others, I wanted to get home and read as much
of the Puzzle Lady book as I could. Lou felt the same way. If I didn’t fall
asleep, I thought I might stay up until I finished. That way I would have one
more book I could talk about at the next day’s roundtable discussion, although
I expected I would listen rather than talk.

Tuesday morning dawned.
I rolled over and tried to think of a reason to stay in bed. I thought of
plenty. Then I thought of three reasons to get out of bed; breakfast, Scene of
the Crime, and a desire to put an end to this investigation and bring the
Colonel’s killer to justice. Any of those was sufficient to make me stumble to
my feet and get on with my day. Thankfully, winter had long since passed, and a
quick look out my window revealed a sunny day and no nasty neighbor lurking on
my property.

I decided to give Sam
more time to track down some suspects. Besides, I knew that if Sam had
something really vital to the case, he’d get in touch with me. He knew where I
was, or where I would be. He could leave a message at the Blue Moon.

For some reason, I
stepped from my shower and had a craving for eggs over easy. If only I could
solve all my problems so easily. In only a matter of minutes, I’d tickle my
insides with egg yolks and whites. And bacon. And sausage.

I picked Lou up and
immediately got a math lesson.

“One plus one equal
three, Cy.”

“I think you need more
math classes, Lou.”

“No, I mean that’s our
clue for the day. ‘One plus one equals three.’”

“You mean God needs more
math classes?”

“Very funny, Cy.”

“Since you’re never able
to interpret God’s message for the day, let me give it a try. I believe God is
telling us that we need to increase the number of desserts we eat each day.”

“Cy, did you ever wonder
why I get the message each day, and you don’t?”

“No, I already know
that.”

“And the reason is?”

“Otherwise you wouldn’t
have anything to do.”

“Are you saying I don’t
contribute to the case? Maybe I should interrogate the suspects.”

“Maybe you should drive
each day. Your car. Maybe I can ride in the back. Sounds good to me.”

“Okay, and when I finish
eating breakfast, I’ll bring you out a doggie bag.”

+++

We pulled up in front of
the Scene of the Crime, eager for a diversion. Murder is okay in my book, as
long as it’s in a book, and it’s not a true crime novel.

We opened the door of
the bookstore, the last of the regulars to arrive. Everyone greeted the two of
us like we were about to remember them in our wills, even Mrs. Evans, the
owner, although it was like we remembered her in our wills each time we stopped
by. Like many who salivate over a good mystery, Lou and I have a habit of
buying more books than we can read before we return for more books. When we
left the store that day, Agatha Christie, Erle Stanley Gardner, Ellery Queen,
S. S. Van Dine, Rex Stout, Ngaio Marsh, John Dickson Carr, Mary Higgins Clark,
Carolyn Hart, Rita Mae Brown, Mary Daheim, Lillian Jackson Braun, Sue Grafton,
and Tim Myers left with us. We like to read our authors’ books in order, so
most of the books that accompanied us as we left the store were either the
first or second book that each author wrote. Exceptions were made for Christie
and Gardner. We wanted to collect all of their books as soon as possible.

Before we left, Lou and
I sat in on the roundtable discussion of the month, “What is the cleverest
written mystery you’ve ever read?” Lou and I were new to the game, so we kept
quiet and took notes. Both of us like clever. Who knows, maybe somewhere,
somehow, if Lou and I read enough books we’ll run into someone who is as clever
as we are? Not in real life, but anything’s possible in a book.

We'd gotten to know Mrs.
Boddley on previous trips to the Scene of the Crime. I guessed Mrs. Boddley to
be late seventies or early eighties, but that was only a guess. What wasn’t a
guess was who Mrs.  Boddley's favorite author was. She told us more than once
that she fell in love with Agatha Christie's books at an early age. She had
several Christie favorites, but felt
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
was her
best and most clever. Mrs. Edmundson disagreed. She felt Christie betrayed her
readers when she wrote
Roger Ackroyd
, but loved
And Then There Were
None
and
Murder on the Orient Express.
Mr. Morgan chimed in with his
choice for most clever, John Dickson Carr's
The Three Coffins.
While all
three of these people had quite a few years on me, Ellie Callahan was a
newlywed, and like Lou and I, had come to know all of the masters of suspense
recently. Ellie agreed that Christie was the best, but couldn't decide on which
book the thought was the cleverest. Like Lou and I, Ellie purchased several
mysteries at a time, and followed each classic mystery with a modern day
whodunit. Lou and I merely wanted to solve our modern day whodunit, so we could
participate in the bookstore's discussions to come.

+++

We ate lunch and then it
was time to work off some of those calories. In order for us to get in a good
workout, I parked at the curb instead of in the driveway of each household we
visited.

I began with Joe
Guilfoyle, supposedly the Colonel’s best friend. Actually, I had no evidence
that he wasn’t. It’s just that our years on the force have taught us never to
take anything for granted.

Mrs. Guilfoyle answered
the door, seemed surprised that two men wanted to see her husband. She told us
that he was in the garage and excused herself to get him.  I interrupted and
told her we needed only a minute of his time, and would walk out and talk with
him in the garage. Reluctantly, she agreed. I could tell she hoped she hadn’t
sent her husband unwanted visitors. She had.

“So, what brings you
over here, Lieutenant? I thought I answered all your questions the other day.”

“You did answer the ones
I had the other day, but I stayed up late last night coming up with more
questions. Actually, you never answered one to my satisfaction. Where were you
on the afternoon of the murder?”

“Right where I am now,
until it came time to visit with my friend.”

“And why did your wife
think you’d left?”

“You’d have to ask her
that.”

“Wouldn’t she have heard
the car leave?”

“I never took it out of
the garage. See, when the weather was warm enough I’d walk over to Buck’s.”

“I know it’s just a few
blocks, but wouldn’t you get tired doing that?”

“It’s only two blocks,
and I always take the cut-through when I walk.”

“The cut-through?”

“Yeah, there’s a path
halfway down the block that’s used for walkers and bicyclers. It’s not wide
enough for a car, so elderly people like me feel comfortable using it. I
particularly like to use it in the spring. After all the bad weather that
winter brings, I’m glad to see warmer temperatures and gentle breezes.”

“And I don’t guess you
saw anyone on your way over?”

“No, no one until I saw
Martha when she returned.”

“Tell me about that, Mr.
Guilfoyle.”

“I thought I already
did. Anyway, I'd gone over like I always do on Monday to visit with Buck, only,
as you know, no one answered the door. I rang and I knocked. I thought maybe he
could have been in the back yard, so I walked around back to see. As you know,
he wasn't there, either. So, I came back to the front, thinking that he might
have been in the bathroom, or had fallen asleep.  It was just after I rang
again, and waited a bit, that Martha pulled into the drive. I told her what I
just told you, and she hurried to the house to find her husband. When she
couldn't, she called you.”

I decided to change the
subject.

“Mr. Guilfoyle, I’d like
for you to look at these pictures. Tell me if you recognize anyone.”

Guilfoyle looked over
the pictures carefully.

“I recognize Michael
Belding, but none of the others. Are these your suspects?”

“Each of these men
threatened the Colonel a long time ago. I was hoping to find someone who’d seen
them near the Hardesty residence sometime shortly before or on the day of the
murder.”

“I haven’t seen Belding
in years, and I haven’t seen any of the others, but then I’d say I probably
just missed one of them on the day of the murder. Too bad I wasn’t a few
minutes earlier.”

My words exactly. Too
bad I wasn’t a few minutes earlier. Then, maybe my friend would still be alive.

   I asked Guilfoyle if
he knew of anyone else who might have had it in for the Colonel, but he
couldn’t think of anyone. I thanked him and Lou and I left.

+++

I looked up Belding’s
address, and headed there, hoping to get there before Belding got home from
school. I wanted to see if we could locate any neighbor who might have seen
Belding at home the afternoon of the murder. We located only a couple of
neighbors, but none of them could remember seeing Belding at home any weekday
before school let out. We were getting into Lightning when Belding came home.
He spotted us, gave us a disgusting look. I smiled and waved. I hoped he
thought he was our only suspect.