Murder Under the Tree (24 page)

“Damn! She must have been looking when I left the kitchen and followed me. What should I do?”

“Let's think of something.” I paused a few moments. “Do you ever leave the Home on your breaks?”

“Not often.”

“I think I should drive away like we're going to the patisserie. I did forget the éclairs. I rushed over.”

Her expression was a mixture of disappointment and worry. “No. I need to go back in. You said Sheila tried to strangle you and now she's watching me.”

Chelsey looked towards the door. A tear started trickling down the side of her nose. I handed her a tissue. With trembling hands she took it.

“Okay. Here's another story. I asked you to serve at a dinner party at my home. You'll refuse. Everything will be okay. Please don't worry.”

I reached for her hand. It was ice cold. “We need to pull ourselves together.” I smiled at her. “Go with my lead. And call me later with what you wanted to tell me.”

“I get off of work at two o'clock. I'll call you then.”

As we walked towards the building, Sheila came out and lit a cigarette. She shot a piercing look first at Chelsey and then at me.

Within hearing distance of Sheila, I said, “Chelsey, I hope you'll reconsider helping the caterers to serve at my dinner party.”

“I'm really not interested, Mrs. Driscoll. Maybe one of the other girls in the kitchen would be. Hi, Sheila,” Chelsey said, in a calm voice, and opened the door to the building, glancing back at me, a worried look on her face.

Sheila sat down on the stoop, then said, “Quit harassing my workers. You heard her, she doesn't want to work for you. And stay away from any of my other girls or—”

“I'm not harassing anyone. I only asked for some assistance with a dinner party.” I started for the door.

Sheila stood up blocking the door. “La-di-da, lady! You need someone for your hoity-toity dinner party,” Sheila said in a mocking voice. Sheila was clearly losing it. “You made quite the fool of yourself at the patisserie. I'm surprised anyone would even want to come to a party of yours.”

I turned around on my heels and walked back to the car. I could hear her shrill laughter.

* * * *

About two-thirty, Chelsey called.

“I hope Sheila didn't give you a hard time when she got back in the kitchen.”

“I tried to avoid her, even though she watched everything I did like a hawk.”

“What was it you wanted to tell me about the tea?”

“A new girl, Jessie, started the morning of the Christmas tea. Sheila had the tiered trays numbered for specific tables. Jessie messed up on the tables.”

And? “How so?”

“Jessie told me she had given Table 2 a tray that was designated for Table 4. One of the guests stopped her on her way saying they needed a refill. She figured she would get a different tray for Table 4. When she came into the kitchen asking for a new tray, Sheila went berserk.”

Hmm. Had Sheila purposely started the new girl to work the tea, knowing she could be blamed if necessary for anything, that needed blaming, perhaps even the peanuts?

“Did Jessie prepare any of the food?”

“We all did.”

“Please go on.”

“Lola had been assigned to Table 6, where Les and Viktor were seated. When they needed another tray of food, she was busy with a resident. I heard her tell Jessie that Sheila had made up some special Russian treat that she thought Viktor would enjoy and to make sure that the tray got to Table 6. By this time Jessie was frazzled.”

“So Viktor's and Les' tray
was
different.”

“Yes. But it was because of Viktor. It had nothing to do with Les.”

I remembered Lola had said that the food on all the tiered trays was the same, down to the exact number of the cookies. Sheila could have slipped peanut butter into any of the food on that tray. “I'll need to talk to Jessie.”

“Sheila fired her the next day. Blamed her for throwing away the food that Dr. Lee told the kitchen to save from Les' table for the police. Before Jessie left, I heard her complain to another girl that Sheila had told her to make sure and clear
all
the tables before she left.”

Sheila’s cover-up was itself covered-up as the standard confusion in a busier-than-usual kitchen. Clever. “The poor girl.”

* * * *

With this new information, I decided to go to the police station. I took along what I had collected on Les Hollings and Sheila Harris. Chief Kirk didn't look too pleased to see me.

I told him about Sheila making specific foods for Les' table. I told him about the nurse's log, and the forty-five minute hole in Sheila's alibi when I was attacked. I showed the information I found online about Sheila being the sister of the boy Les had killed.

“Chief Kirk, Sheila had the means, the motive, and the opportunity.”

He looked at me for a few moments, then he stood up and walked over to his window before turning around and saying, “Excuse me, Kay. I'll be right back.” He left.

I lowered myself onto an edge of one of the chairs facing Kirk's desk and rested my chin in with my hand. What else did Kirk want...blood! Why did I even bother? Would he take anything I said seriously. I shook my head.

About five minutes later, Kirk came back into his office. I straightened up. “We're going to verify these facts. If everything proves to be true, I'll write up the information and personally take it over to the DA. He's a friend of mine. I'll keep you informed if we have enough to arrest Sheila Harris for the murder of Les Hollings. I didn't like that stunt you did making the citizen's arrest at the patisserie. But you may have done some good work here. Thank you.”

My eyes went wide. “You're welcome.”

* * * *

While driving home, I decided to go over to Deirdre's. I didn't want to be home alone with Sheila out of jail. Phil still wouldn't be home from school for a while. I wasn't going to mention about Robert Peterson being Elizabeth's father. Elizabeth would learn that first.

I told her about Sheila and the arrest that I hoped was to take place soon. Deirdre was excited at the news.

“Do you think Nancy will bail out Sheila?” Deirdre asked.

“Can you imagine how high the bail would be for first degree, premeditated murder? Plus I would think flight risk could be a real possibility.”

“Do you think Nancy's bail was high?”

“I looked it up in the State of Wisconsin Uniform Bail Schedule. Two hundred and fifty dollars.”

Her mouth fell open. “That's all?”

“She didn't even have to wait to be arraigned. It was her first offense.”

“You mean first time she was caught,” Deirdre said.

I sighed. “Right.”

“Elizabeth's coming back tomorrow,” Deirdre said. “I feel something is going to happen, and soon, between her and Robert.”

I shrugged my shoulders. I
knew
something was going to happen after I told Elizabeth what I had learned. “I'm glad she and John went to visit Dominic. What's her son like?”

“Very nice. Quiet. Talented.”

“Must be, to play with the San Francisco Symphony. I would love to learn more about him. I don't know why she doesn't talk about him.”

* * * *

That evening, while trying to concentrate on a book in bed, but wondering if Sheila had been brought to justice yet, the phone rang. It was Anne Niven. She had never called before.

I heard Phil coming up the stairs. “Hello, Anne.”

Phil pointed to his watch when he entered the room.

“Kay, I need to see you. Can you come over?”

“Anne, what’s wrong? You sound out of breath?”

I looked at my alarm clock. Almost ten o'clock. “Is Sarah okay?”

“Yes, she's fine. Nothing like that.”

“How about you? Are you in danger?”

“No, no. It's about Martin.”

“Can you tell me over the phone?”

“Well, it’s something I just found out. But, I prefer to tell you in person.”

I looked up at Phil. He shook his head and walked into the bathroom.

“Anne, it’s late. If you and Sarah are okay, how about first thing tomorrow morning? I’ll be there around nine. But, do me a favor, will you? Lock your door. You don’t want any unwanted visitor in the middle of the night.”

“Yes, yes. We'll talk tomorrow. Good night, Kay.”

Thursday, January 8

At eight fifty, I walked into Hawthorne Hills' lobby. Viktor was taking down the Christmas tree that Les had most likely put up. When he saw me he came over.

“Hello, Viktor. I’m here to see—”

“Do you know if Nancy leaving and Sheila's disappearance has anything to do with Les?” Viktor asked in a hurry.

“Sheila’s disappearance? Disappearance? What do you mean?”

Chelsey came into the lobby from the direction of the kitchen. “Kay, I saw your car. Sheila's gone.”

I looked between the two of them.

“The police were here yesterday evening looking for Sheila. She vanished. No one could find her,” Viktor said.

Kirk didn't inform me about Sheila's warrant like he said he would.

“Kay, you'd better watch out. Sheila looked crazy yesterday. And if she tried strangling you once—”

“Sheila tried to strangle you?” Viktor asked. “Is that why she disappeared?”

“Viktor, I think she was going to be arrested for Les' murder when the police came looking for her.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry, Viktor, I haven't been in touch with you this past week. I’ve been working on some things, clues, trying to get questions answered about Les' death.”

I proceeded to tell him everything I had learned about Sheila including her being the sister of Bobby Harris.

His face reddened. “Probably why she took a job here?”

I could hear his teeth grinding. “I'm guessing it is. I think she had probably been planning her revenge for some time.”

A vein pulsated in Viktor's forehead. “That murdering bitch.”

“And Nancy was Bobby's aunt,” Chelsey said.

He sat down on a chair, his head inches away from his legs. Then looked up, his hands in a tight fist. “They must both have been in on it. If I come across either of them...”

“I don't know. Nancy was arraigned for what Les overheard with the men, prostitution.”

Viktor looked up. “Really? Consenting adults?”

“Doesn't matter. She was having sex for profit, asking to be put in the men's wills.”

The elevator bell sounded. Anne walked out of the elevator and over to us. She had a grave expression.

I gave Anne a concerned smile. “Anne, how are you?”

She looked between Viktor and Chelsey and then back to me and only said, “Good morning. Shall we go up to my apartment?”

Chelsey grabbed on to my hand, and said, “Kay, be careful. Sheila's up to no good. Watch your back!”

“I will. And you too. Take care.”

I followed Anne over to the elevator and stood there in silence, looking up, watching the numbers descend and worrying about Sheila out on the loose. What would happen next?

When we arrived at Anne's apartment, she took my coat and went into the kitchen to make tea. Perfunctory tea. I looked around her living room, squinting against the morning sun streaming through the window. In front of her window was a small desk that held a computer and a small leather chair.

Two of her walls consisted of floor-to-ceiling bookcases. She had a huge collection of Agatha Christie and Rex Stout mysteries. I continued reading the titles, some of which were from her books, when she came back into the room.

Putting down the tea service, she opened up her desk drawer and handed me an opened envelope which was addressed to her. Was this a duplicate letter of what Sarah had just shown me?

“Martin's son gave this letter to me yesterday evening. He found it in Martin's apartment while packing his things.”

I sat down on her sofa, unfolded the pages, and started to read. After a few minutes, I looked up.

Silent tears flowed out of Anne's aged eyes. “I knew Martin wasn't ready to die yet.” She blew her nose before continuing. “You can tell these things.” Anne reached for another tissue. “This was why Martin was murdered.
She
must have been at the door.”

I put my arm around her frail shoulder. “It's heart breaking, Anne.”

Anne wiped her tears and poured the tea while I reread Martin's letter.

In the letter, describing his hiding in the kitchen and hearing Sheila's conversation, he wrote that he was writing everything down, before he forgot anything that had been said. He pointed out in the letter that Sheila had said,
We had taken care of everything
. He underlined the word, We. The last sentence he wrote was that someone was at the door and that he planned to go to the police the next morning.

“If only I hadn't been at the theatre that evening with Sarah. Martin might have come to my apartment.”

I had a lump in my throat. I put my arm back around her quaking shoulder. “Oh, Anne, I'm so sorry.”

Anne blew her nose again. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes sipping our tea.

“We need to take this letter to the police,” I said.

“Would it be all right if you went alone? I’d rather not go.”

“Yes. I think Sarah should come and sit with you for a bit. To keep you company.”

* * * *

After finishing my cup of tea, I called Sarah, then headed to the police department once again to see Chief Kirk. I handed him Martin's letter. “Here's additional proof for the murder charge.”

Glancing at the letter and then at me, he said, “Let's go in my office.”

Kirk read the letter twice before speaking. “Kay, we already issued a warrant for Sheila's arrest. She's disappeared. I obtained a warrant to search her apartment. You should have seen one of her bedroom walls. She's definitely looking like the prime suspect for the murder.”

“Who do you think the 'we' is in Martin's letter. I can't think of anyone other than Nancy.”

“We've been trying to get in touch with Nancy Reinhardt, to see if she knows of her niece's whereabouts.”

“Nancy's probably hiding her.”

“For now, stay away from the Home and definitely watch out for Sheila.”