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Authors: Steve Demaree

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BOOK: Murder in the Library
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While we were no closer
to solving the case, a new development transpired just after we found out this
information. An officer knocked on the library door and informed me that there
was a man at the front door who wanted to talk to the man in charge. Curious,
Lou and I followed the officer to the front door.

I opened the door and
eyeballed the man who stood there. He was of medium height and weight and
looked to be around my age. As far as I knew, he was no one I’d seen before.

“Are you the officer in
charge?”

“I might be. And who
might you be?”

“I’m Bob Downey. I live
next door. Did something happen here today?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, there seems to be
a lot of police here, many of them in uniform.”

“Maybe we’re having a
meeting about the policeman’s fund.”

“Listen, I’ve some
information you might be interested in.”

“Such as?”

“Such as I saw someone
enter this house this afternoon. Someone I’d never seen before, and someone who
looked out of place here.”

“Go on.”

“See, this house sets
back farther from the street than mine does, so I’ve a good view of this porch.
Well, I was walking by my window when I saw something out of the corner of my
eye. A man was almost at the front door of this house, almost where I am now. What
caused me to stop and look was that not only didn’t I recognize him, but he
looked out of place on this street. See, he had long, unkempt hair and a beard.
I thought he was a bum, and he’d come to my house next, so I was surprised
when  he  removed  a  key  from  his pocket, unlocked the door, and entered the
house. At least, that’s what it look like happened. Someone could have admitted
him, but I think he used a key. Just in case something’s missing, I wanted to
report him. I hope I’m not getting an innocent man in trouble.”

“No, you did the right
thing. Would you recognize the man, if you saw him again?”

“I doubt it. He didn’t
turn and look at me. He just went about his business and opened the door, just
like anyone else would. He didn't seem to be nervous. I wouldn't have thought
another thing about it if I hadn't looked out a few minutes ago and seen some
policemen heading to this house.”

“Back to this man. What
about his age? Hair color? Type of clothes he wore?”

“I’m sorry. I think he
had light brown hair, and my guess is he was a young man, but other than that,
I can’t say.”

“And you didn’t see him
leave?”

“No, I figured once he
used the key that meant he belonged here. I didn’t give it another thought
until I saw some officers heading to this house. I debated with myself on
whether or not I should report him. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t any of the men
who live here, so I decided to report it and let you do whatever you think is
best.”

“You did the right
thing, Mr. Downey. I’ll let you know if we have any other questions. Oh, one
other thing. Did you see this man or any other stranger on the street about a
week ago or at any other time since?”

“No. Normally this
street has very little activity. That’s one of the reasons I chose it when I
moved here a couple of years ago.”

Again, I thanked Downey for his information, closed the door, and wondered where this fit in. Was there a
long-haired man, or was Downey our murderer and he had come forward to pass the
blame on to someone else before he became a suspect. Time would tell.

The rest of the evening
passed with no new developments. Nothing out of the ordinary was found in an
upstairs search. I talked to each of the house’s residents and found no one who
acted guilty, but that didn’t surprise me. No one acted guilty when Lou and I
showed up for dinner, and a guilty person might’ve known why we were there
those two nights.

When we’d finished going
over the house, we allowed everyone to go to his or her room before Frank
removed the body and everyone left the house. Lou and I were the last to leave.
It had grown dark by the time we left.

For the third time that
day, we arrived at the Blue Moon late for a meal. Thelma, like Rosie before
her, was worried about us. We ate an uneventful meal and left. It was time to
rest. The next day there was more work to be done.

Chapter
Ten

 

 

I saw no reason to
suppress the news, so the next morning all of Hilldale who read
The Hilldale
Herald
knew of the Colonel’s death. As I took a shower, I mulled over any
possible actions Lou and I might take. We could go back to the house. We could
canvass the neighborhood again to see if anyone other than Downey saw a
stranger in the neighborhood, or Lou and I could go over the Colonel’s Bible to
see what clues it held for us. I could do any of those, but first I took out my
notebook and called Sam Schumann, the best investigator in the business.

“This is Sam I Am,
dining on green eggs and ham.”

“Hasn’t that stuff
killed you yet?”

“I was wondering the
same thing about that greasy spoon you and Lou call home. How are you this
morning, Cy? I read the paper. I think I know why you’re calling. It’s time for
me to go to work. Right?”

“That’s why I’ve come to
you, Sam. You’re the best. If anyone can make our job easier, you’re the man.”

“Okay. Shoot. Who do you
want me to check out?”

“I hope you have a lot
of paper, Sam, because this may take a while.”

“Ready when you’re, Red
Ryder.”

“Start with those who
lived in the house with the Colonel. That’s his wife, his two granddaughters,
his grandson-in-law, and Tom Brockman, the T.A. who rented a room from him. And
you might as well include his friend Joe Guilfoyle in this. I don’t think any
of them did it, but we need to know. Find out where each of them was yesterday,
and if any of them had any problems with the Colonel. Next, check out all of
his neighbors, particularly Bob Downey, his newest neighbor. He’s been there
for two years and claims to have seen someone enter the house yesterday. Find
out what you know about him. Also, there are some people we know who’ve been in
the house this year; a plumber, an exterminator, and the mailman. Find out
which plumber, and what exterminator they used. And there’s a maid and handyman
who come once a week, Earl and Myra Hoskins, find out what you can about them. Talk
to the other people they work for. Also, last week the Colonel remembered three
people he’d had problems with years ago, all of them at the university. Two
were students, Daniel Terloff and Carla Bauerman. The other one was a guy who
said the Colonel kept him from getting a permanent job with the university,
Michael Belding. He’s still in the area, a high school teacher. Just get this
to me a little at a time, as soon as you can.”

“Sure thing, Cy. Have
you and Lou eaten breakfast yet?”

“That’s next.”

“Want to stop by for
some green eggs and ham?”

“And forgo the best
restaurant in six states. Just get to work.”

I hung up the phone,
picked it up again to tell Lou I was on my way, and turned to leave. Just
before I opened the door, the phone rang. Even Sam wasn’t that quick, but I
picked it up because I was curious. Very few people had my number.

Mary, the dispatcher on
duty, was calling to tell me that a young man had seen someone about to enter
the Colonel’s house on the previous afternoon. When I asked what the man had
said, I was told that all that the caller could say is that the man had long,
brown hair and a beard. I got the young man’s name and address. He was a
university student, and she said he would be home from class a little after 11:00. That gave Lou and me plenty of time to enjoy our breakfast, if that was possible.

 

+++

 

I added a few ounces to
my frame. Lou probably took off a few. Both of us smacked our lips a few times,
and ambled to Lightning, redistributing our breakfasts as we went. I’d heard
that there are devices you can put on your car to tell you the best way to go
to get to where you want to go, but being a man of few vices or devices, I
didn’t have one of those, either. But if I find out that they can also tell a
person where to find a parking space close by to cut down on walking, I might
change my image and splurge on one of them. But in the meantime, because we
were headed to an area near the university, we had to park a couple of blocks
away from our destination, which allowed us an opportunity to slosh our
breakfasts some more. Many huffs and puffs later, at least as far as I was
concerned, we arrived at our destination to find out our witness lived on the
third floor. If I’d known what he looked like, we might’ve waited until he left
again, but since we didn’t, Lou and I had to tackle the old-fashioned version
of the Stairmaster. On the way up the steps, I remembered to ask Lou for our
message of the day. “Something old, something new,” he replied. There was no
way I was going to get married, so no one had better come up with something
borrowed and something blue.

A good half hour later,
we arrived at the third floor a few ounces thinner. I wouldn’t be a happy
camper if we got up there only to find out the building had an elevator.

We found Mark Blakeman,
a tall, thin, dark-haired, young man in apartment 3-A. We identified ourselves.

“So, you must really
want this guy, huh?”

“Just tell us who and
what you saw.”

“Not much. Just some
hippie dude that looked out of place.”

“Did you actually see
him enter the house?”

“Actually, I did. What
tipped me off is that he came slinking around the side of the house like
someone suspicious. He looked too old to be some doctor’s son still living at
home, so I figured he didn’t belong. But when he took out a key, unlocked the
door, and went in, I figured that maybe he did live there. When I saw this
morning’s headlines, I figured I’d better give you guys a call. See, I
remembered the house because it’s the biggest one of the street. I was hoping to
get a delivery there, sometime.”

   “Delivery?”

   “Yeah, that’s the
reason I was on the street. I deliver pizzas to pick up some extra money, and
people in those rich neighborhoods tip a lot better than students do, so I used
my seniority last fall to get that route. This is my third year delivering for Hometown
Pizza.”

“And can you tell me the
name of the person you delivered the pizza to yesterday?”

“I believe their name is
Wilson. Next to last house in that block, on the other side of the street
from the big house.”

“Mark, do you by any
chance know a man by the name of Bob Downey?”

“No. Is he a student?”

“No, just checking
something.”

“Well, if he’s not a
student, or a professor, I wouldn’t know him.”

We ended our chit-chat
and walked down the steps, wishing that we had gotten valet parking. At least
Lightning hadn’t been towed, and no one had plowed into my baby while we were
gone. At least two men had seen the long-haired man. Had they also seen the
one-armed man and the second gunman on the grassy knoll?

I wanted to check on
Blakeman’s alibi, so we swung by the scene of the crime and stopped at the
next-to-last house on the right. As it turned out, their name was Wilson, and they had ordered a pizza the afternoon before. Evidently there was a
long-haired, bearded man, or someone disguised as one, and this person entered
the Colonel’s house the day before.  More than likely, we had our murderer. We
just didn’t know if that is the way he normally looks, and where we might be
able to find him. Or could it have been a woman wearing that getup. No one
would expect someone wearing a disguise like that to be a woman, and neither of
our witnesses was close enough to know for sure.

Sometimes Lou and I plan
ahead. That day was one of those times. At breakfast, we informed Rosie that we
had work to do and wouldn’t be back for lunch. After she had dried her tears,
she handed us four bowls of banana pudding. Actually, she put each bowl in a
suitable box, then stacked them in a sack. That meant all we had to do was stop
by Antonio’s, pick up two foot-long Stromboli steak sandwiches, and two large
orders of French fries with gravy. Then, we’d be set with all of the food
groups God intended for us to eat. Well, counting our candy we’d have all of
them.

We arrived at Antonio’s,
got out of Lightning, and walked inside. I ordered my usual foot-long Stromboli and large order of fries with gravy. Then, Lou stepped up to order. He leaned
over the counter and whispered, “I’ll just take a small this time, and no fries
for me.” I had no idea if he was as embarrassed as I was, or if Lou was looking
at me, because I wasn’t looking at him. I knew how demeaning it must have been
for him to order the children’s portion. We left Antonio’s and were on our way
to my house to eat lunch and peruse the Colonel’s Bible.

Lou smiled as I drove
down the street and neared my house.

“What’s with you?”

Lou pointed.

“Is that your friend? Am
I interrupting something, Cy?”

I slammed on the brakes
and Lou and I tested our seatbelts. My neighbor stood in my yard near my
driveway, and that thing was with her. I thought about hitting the gas and
gunning it. For the second time in a week I regretted not having a more
powerful vehicle. I pulled into the driveway, considered driving all the way to
the end of the driveway and making a dash for the back door. I knew that I
couldn’t outmaneuver
that creature
.  I made a mental note to call and
find out how much it cost to get land mines planted in my neighbor’s yard.
Actually, it would do me no good. She was always in my yard.

I got out of the car and
couldn’t even get in the first word.

“Oh, Cyrus, you brought
a friend. You didn’t tell me we’d be having company for lunch.”

“Miss Humphert, what are
you doing in my yard?”

“Waiting for you, Cyrus.
What do you think?”

“You know I already have
a gun, and Posted signs are not that expensive.”

“I don’t know what
you’ve got planned, Cyrus, but it sounds exciting.”

“What I’ve planned is
lunch, Miss Humphert. That is provided seeing you hasn’t made me lose my
appetite.”

“Oh, Cyrus, you say the
sweetest things. I’m willing to skip lunch if you’re. And who is your cute
friend? Will he be joining us? I wish you’d told me. I would have invited a
friend for him.”

“This, Miss Humphert, is
my bodyguard. He’s just been released on parole, so he hasn’t had his shots
yet. The last person he bit died. That’s the reason he was in prison.
Understand?”

“I sure do. Your friend
hasn’t had a date in a long time. I know just the woman for him. Will you
excuse me while I go call her?”

“I’ll never excuse you,
Miss Humphert, but you’re free to go. I hope you go far, and take Her
Yippieness with you.”

With that I grabbed my
food and dashed for the house. I dropped one of the Strombolis on the way. The
mongrel managed only to slobber on the plastic bag before I snatched it away.
That was okay. It was the child’s size sandwich.

Lou held everything in
until we got inside and I shut and locked the door. Then, he let me have it in
the best falsetto voice he could muster.

“Oh, Cyrus, it’s so good
to see you. Let me go call my friend so she can visit with your friend.”

Surely things would
improve.

 

+++

 

It took only a bite of Stromboli and French fries with gravy to wipe away the visions of my next-door neighbor
from my mind. It was a little bit out of character, but I decided to wait on
the banana pudding until the first time deciphering the message in the
Colonel’s Bible frustrated us. I had a feeling that the pudding wouldn’t wait
long.

We cleared the crumbs
and such from the dining room table and washed our hands. I went to get the
Bible, still wrapped from the day before.

“Okay, Lou, let’s see
what we have here.”

Whatever it was wasn’t
going to be easy. I could smell the pudding already. I looked at all the cards.
Most of them were blank. I would’ve felt better if all of them were blank, but
there were three in the book of
Obadiah
. Two of them had a +2 on them
and the other one a +3. What did that mean? Also, one of the ones that fell out
had an arrow on it. What did that mean? This way to the buried treasure?  I
turned to Lou and smiled.

“Don’t tell me that
you’ve already figured it out, Cy?”

“Okay, I won’t tell
you.”

“You mean you have?”

“Well, I’ve figured out
one thing.”

“What’s that, Cy?”

“I’ve figured out that
the Colonel thought you and I are smarter than we are, if he expected us to
figure this out.”

Lou laughed.

“Well, he had to make it
tough, so the murderer wouldn’t guess.”

“The murderer already
knows who he or she is. The murderer won’t need to guess.”

“You know what I mean,
Cy. Besides, we’ll figure it out if we give it enough time.”

“Any idea, Cy?”

“Yeah, one. You look
this over while I eat four bowls of pudding.”

BOOK: Murder in the Library
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