The Big Brush-off (18 page)

“Shouldn't you call Paul and let him know you'll catch that Monday flight?”

Laura smiled. “Darling, if I call him now, he'll think you convinced me. What do you think would happen the next time he and I disagree? He'd call you. Let him simmer and I'll call him later.”

She made an excellent point. We went downstairs and froze as we reached the lobby.

Behind the counter, with one hand on the wall above her head, Alan was talking to Ginger, who was smiling at the mechanic like she was Jean Harlow and Alan was Clark Gable.

Laura whispered, “What kind of louse is he?”

The kind who cheats and possibly murders.

He took one look at us, removed his hand from the wall, and stepped back from Ginger like she'd just sneezed on him. He gave her a wink and walked away.

The girl was practically breathless. “See you at Founder's Day tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, doll.” Alan disappeared out the front door.

Laura approached Ginger. “Does your father know about you and Alan?”

“I'm twenty. I can do what I want.”

“You think he's your ticket out of town, don't you?” I asked.

Ginger avoided looking me in the eye. “He might be.”

“If he was going to leave, it would've happened ten years ago.”

“You sound just like my father.” Ginger turned her back.

Laura tugged on her sleeve. “He has a girlfriend.”

Ginger's freckles looked ready to explode. “He does not!”

If she didn't believe Laura, she probably wouldn't believe me either, but I had to try. “Yes, he does.”

Ginger folded her arms. “Who?”

Laura and I exchanged a look. We couldn't tell her without jeopardizing our work ahead.

“Nancy Oldfield.” Freddy stepped into the lobby, snapping a yo-yo.

Ginger grabbed the yo-yo and held it behind her back. “Who?”

“The Prune.”

“The seamstress sewing my costume?” Ginger let out an incredulous laugh. “She's hardly his type.”

Freddy shrugged. “Jake thinks she's pretty.”

Ginger gave me a look, then grabbed her brother's arm. “How do you know?”

Freddy told his sister about seeing Alan leave Nancy's house early one morning. As he spoke, her face sagged and the yo-yo dropped to the floor and rolled toward me.

I stopped it with my foot.

Ginger's voice shuddered, “B-but Alan told me he wasn't seeing anyone, anyone serious.” She disappeared below the front counter.

I peered over the top. She was on the floor clutching her arms, mumbling something about boys.

When she saw me, Ginger scrambled to her feet and dashed into the dining room.

Laura hurried after her.

Freddy picked up the yo-yo. “Gosh, I really didn't think Ginger liked him much. He's such a crumb.”

“It's better that she finds out now.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hope you don't treat girls the way Alan does.”

He shook his head. “Not me.”

“How was the movie?”

“We sat in the balcony.”

“The petting pantry? You and the fellas?”

“No, me and…never mind.”

When a couple came in carrying two suitcases, Freddy stuffed the yo-yo in his pocket and helped them.

I went outside and waited for Laura at a table on the deck. Ten minutes later she came out. “Men are awful.”

“Present company excepted, I hope.”

Laura shook her head. “You broke my heart more than once. You left for Florida for two years. I didn't know if you'd ever come back.”

I was anxious to shift the focus from me and back to where it belonged, Alan Tremain. “Why would a nice girl like Ginger be interested in a guy who's given up on life?”

She sat beside me. “He has a certain charm.”

“Charm. Whenever I've seen him, he needs a shave, smells like motor oil, and wears grease-stained coveralls.”

“Good girls have always been attracted to bad boys.” Laura cocked her head. “Sometimes I can't believe you were ever a detective.”

Sheriff Bishop drove up and parked behind the Ford. He climbed out. “Jake and Laura. Just the people I want to see.”

He tipped his hat to a couple passing by then lowered his voice. “I heard someone slashed your tires. Why didn't you call me?”

I smiled. “So you could do what, Sheriff?”

“Fair enough. I thought you were busy working on your novel.”

I wanted to share my latest theory with Bishop, but the man remained on my list of suspects. Still, I also wanted to level with him. “I'm taking a break from my novel. Just to confirm what you've probably already heard, Laura and I are looking into Katie Caldwell's murder.”

He smiled. “And how's that going?”

Beside me, Laura blurted, “We have a lead.”

I shot her a look. I didn't trust the guy.

Bishop ran a hand over his face. “In that case, there's something you should see.”

Laura and I stood in Sheriff Bishop's meticulously organized office. He closed the door and unlocked a file cabinet behind his desk. He removed a box and set it on a table in the corner. Laura and I sat at the table. Bishop slid the box in front of Laura and me. “The Katie Caldwell file. Help yourself.”

I didn't understand why Bishop trusted us. “Why are you doing this?”

“I made some calls since you two arrived. Both of you were helpful in murder investigations in Los Angeles and Hawaii last January.”

Helpful? Just helpful?

Bishop removed the lid and set it beside the box. “I figure if Katie's killer is ever going to be found, I have to trust someone. And there are a lot of people in this town I don't trust.”

Problem was, I wasn't sure if I trusted him.

He grabbed his hat and headed for the door. “I'll be back in an hour or so.” Bishop grinned. “I expect you'll reveal the name of the killer by then.”

He closed the door and stepped into the corridor.

Laura gazed around the office. “What kind of man keeps an office this neat?”

“Someone professional?”

“Or obsessed.”

I went behind his desk and pulled open each drawer. In the last drawer was a bottle of Canadian whiskey and a single glass. Drinking didn't make him Katie's killer any more than it did Mildred.

We sat at the table. I snatched a thin folder from the box and removed Katie's autopsy report. Cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head. The killer struck a fatal blow to Katie's temple with one of her trophies, then shot her twice after she was dead.

Laura sifted through a stack of crime scene photos. She didn't look at Katie's body long but commented on the clutter in the room. “Katie must've put up quite a fight.” She handed me a photo I'd studied before. Katie's mattress and bedding lay scattered on the floor, a lamp had been smashed, and there was a hole in the wall above a trophy broken in half.

“With this much damage in the room, one would expect bruises on Katie's body, or broken fingernails.” I handed her the autopsy report. “Except for the fatal blow, she had no serious injuries.”

One detail in the photo always stood out. All four drawers to the dresser were open, as if a burglar had gone through the contents.

Laura sucked in a gasp. “Katie wasn't a virgin. Jake, she was only sixteen. Does Mary know?”

“The cops had to tell her, sweetheart, if they were going to get answers about her relationships with Alan, Hanson, and Father Ryan.”

“That poor woman's been through so much. Katie didn't have sex that night and wasn't raped.” Laura slipped the report back in the folder and studied more pictures. “Her mother's room was ransacked. Was anything of value taken?”

I shook my head. “I don't think either of them had anything of value to anyone except themselves.”

Laura rose and paced the room in silence, a level of concentration she usually reserved for studying her lines or character. She stopped beside me and squeezed my hand. “Tell me if you disagree. Whoever killed Katie and ruined Mary's life assumed they were at the Founder's Day celebration and went through an unlocked door looking for valuables. When he couldn't find anything in Mary's bedroom, he went to Katie's and discovered he wasn't alone. There was a struggle…” She stared at the photos again then shook her head and spoke almost to herself. “It didn't happen that way at all.”

I smiled, knowing she'd avoided a mistake most of the cops initially made.

Laura grabbed my arm. “This wasn't a burglary gone wrong, was it? The killer tried to make it look like a burglary.”

I nodded my head. “And Katie, according to her mother, always locked the door when Mary was working.”

Laura walked to a wall behind Bishop's desk. She studied three eight-by-ten pictures—Bishop as the young cop I remembered, as a newly elected sheriff, and as an older version of himself in a police uniform. It had to be his father. She straightened the picture then faced me. “That leads us back to the original suspects, particularly Alan Tremain. But let's start with her teacher.”

I began to make a case for Hanson's guilt to gauge Laura's reaction. “Hanson enjoyed teaching, especially pretty young girls like Katie. She was one of his favorites. He gave her the role of Princess Teleka.”

She picked up a yearbook photo of Katie. “I can't picture…that girl having been involved with a teacher.”

“What about a priest?”

Laura looked unconvinced.

“Father Ryan's no saint. He's been in trouble and tries to give the town a devout image, but he has secrets. He smokes and drinks.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Most people we know smoke and drink. Doesn't make them killers.”

“Assuming she let her killer in, Katie would have opened the door for a priest. Maybe even for a teacher.”

“Maybe.” I sifted through a folder with statements from Katie's fellow students. I scanned Luke Jackson's. It was short. He barely knew Katie. And, of course, he and Alan were at the garage at the time Katie was murdered; how convenient. They provided each other alibis.

I sifted through the photos and placed three on the table. Did any of them point to the killer? “Father Ryan gave her the rosary she held in her hand. George Hanson gave her a book of poetry. She was killed with a trophy Alan Tremain gave her.”

Laura squeezed my hand. “All this means is that Katie had plenty of admirers, but she only had one killer.”

Maybe Luke Jackson, a classmate of Katie's, was an admirer, or Bishop. I blew out a sigh and leaned back in my chair. “What about Bishop?”

Laura gazed over my shoulder.

“What about me?” Bishop closed the door. He sat across from Laura and me. “Well!”

If we were going to work together, we had to trust each other. “You took Katie home from Founder's Day. You never mentioned that when I was here last time.”

“I was the last person to see her alive, besides the killer. I didn't hide that information, Jake. I was investigated and cleared. I didn't mention it to you, and apparently neither did my colleagues. It became a rumor during last year's campaign for sheriff.”

Laura didn't appear to believe him. “Apparently not too many people believed the rumor. The county elected you.”

Bishop picked up a photo of the debris in Katie's room and showed it to her. “She wasn't killed by a professional. Katie's room and Mary's have the appearance of how someone suspects a burglar works: slide out the drawers and go through the clothes. Burglars aren't so neat. They're in a hurry to get in and get out. And if a burglar broke in with a gun, why would he hit Katie over the head with a trophy then throw it across the room? Why not just shoot her?”

Laura looked at me. “What do you think?”

“Bishop's not stupid. He would've left the crime scene in a way that would convince everyone she was killed by a burglar.”

The sheriff snorted. “Thanks for your endorsement.”

Laura drummed her fingers on the desk. “Okay, Sheriff, that lets you off the hook. What about Hanson, Father Ryan, and Alan Tremain?”

He shrugged. “Unfortunately, in spite of my suspicions, there's not enough evidence against any of them.”

Laura smacked the table. “At least share your suspicions.”

“Hanson would have been happy teaching all his life, but after the murder, it didn't take him long to leave that profession. He spent years trying to repair his reputation and after the Depression hit, he and his wife started a soup kitchen. They organize bake sales and other charities to raise money for those hungry and homeless. He tries to do what he can to keep the town alive, especially after he was elected to the town council.”

I didn't like Hanson and never had. “Maybe because he's such a big shot in this town, you haven't looked closely enough at his relationship with Katie.”

Bishop's eyes narrowed. “I talked to every student and teacher. No one said they had an inappropriate relationship. That kind of talk is what I'm referring to, just small-town rumors.”

I wasn't convinced. “Hanson's the one who pointed me in your direction.”

Bishop gave me an incredulous stare. “We've had differences over the years. I'm not crazy about him, but I'm certain he wasn't having an affair with Katie.”

I tossed the photo of the priest on the table.

Bishop studied the photo. “Father Ryan's still my lead suspect, but I'll never be able to prove his guilt.”

Laura shook her head. “You really think Katie had a romance with a priest?”

“Not necessarily. Unlike Hanson, Father Ryan's past is troubling. But if I file a murder case against a local priest, I better have a witness or a confession. If not, my career will be short-lived.”

Someone new had aroused my suspicions since Laura and I arrived, though I still suspected Alan was Katie's most likely killer. “Has Luke Jackson been in any trouble the last ten years?”

“Minor stuff. Two years ago I hauled him in for looking into a bedroom window.” Bishop glanced at the evidence box.

I didn't like the look in Bishop's eyes. There must be a connection between Luke and Alan I didn't know about. “You never connected that behavior with what happened to Katie?”

Bishop blew out a long breath and nodded. “When I brought him in, I asked about Katie. He told me Alan gave him fifty bucks to say he'd been at the garage with Alan and his uncle. Of course Alan denied it, as did his uncle before he passed away.”

Laura jumped to her feet. “So Alan doesn't have an alibi!”

Bishop cocked his head. “His uncle was adamant Alan was in the garage after Founder's Day. It's Luke who doesn't have an alibi.”

Laura grabbed my hand. “Tell him what we've learned.”

Bishop looked interested, but I wasn't certain he'd believe what I was about to tell him. “Alan Tremain is involved with Katie's former best friend, Nancy Oldfield.”

“That's no crime. Besides, Alan Tremain and Nancy Oldfield are about as likely a couple as Buck Rogers and Little Orphan Annie.” The sheriff laughed. “Have you met her?”

I nodded. “We have.”

“You're serious.” He cocked his head. “If what you say is true, that would change everything we know about the case, including a motive. How do you know about those two?”

I glanced at Laura. “A witness saw Alan leaving Nancy's house early one recent morning. And Mary suggested Alan may have cheated on Katie in high school.”

Bishop ran a hand over his chin. “We knew Katie wasn't the only girl Alan courted in high school, and we looked into whether Katie and Alan fought on Founder's Day. If they did, there were no witnesses.”

He leaned back in his chair. “You both think Alan followed Katie and me from the town square. After I dropped her off, he went inside to explain or beg forgiveness about cheating on her but things didn't go well. He hit Katie and killed her.”

Now he was getting it. “When Alan realized Katie was dead, he threw the trophy across the room. Then he tried to make it look like a burglary. Before he left, he retrieved a gun and shot her.”

“Alan claimed he never owned a gun, and we never found the .32.” Bishop ran his hands through his hair. “If your story checks out, I'd be willing to bring Alan, Luke, or both into the office and work them over. If he lies about seeing Nancy, he's probably lied about plenty of other details. It's hard to keep lies straight over so many years. Who's your witness?”

Bishop wasn't going to like it, but I trusted Freddy. “Freddy Conrad.”

The sheriff burst out laughing. “That kid? He's the biggest gossip in Hanover. Jake, come on.”

“I believe him.”

Laura nodded. “So do I.”

He linked his hands behind his head. “I'm not going to bring Alan in based on the word of a wiseass like Freddy Conrad.”

I was as frustrated as Laura looked. “Talk to Freddy, Sheriff, and judge for yourself whether he's telling the truth.”

“Maybe I'll do that.” He walked us to the door.

When we stepped outside, Laura grabbed my hand. “Jake, we're running out of time.”

“Bishop's a smart guy. After you return to Hollywood…”

Laura dropped my hand. “I'm not referring to me! I'm talking about Mary. We have to solve the crime before she…before she passes away.”

I wanted that as much as Laura did. I'd let Mary down for ten years. Instinct told me to pay Luke Jackson a visit, but Laura liked Nancy and was worried about her involvement with Alan.

I agreed to drive by the bank. When we reached the car, I opened the passenger door. “Sweetheart, right now we have no proof against anyone. All we have are our suspicions.”

I climbed behind the wheel and started the car. We'd arrived in Hanover with three suspects. We now had two more, Bishop and Luke Jackson. I liked Bishop, but wouldn't dismiss my concerns about him or Luke, or the three I'd identified ten years ago.

Still, the most likely suspect was Alan Tremain, whose primary alibi had been bought for fifty bucks. We had a theory that Alan cheated on Katie and killed her when she got sore at Founder's Day. But that's all we had, a theory. That and a nickel will get you a cup of coffee.