Cold Case (31 page)

“Christ on a mountain, Bobby! You can't accuse a man based on nothing!”

“Fast forward,” she said, again ignoring his protest. “He didn't know Robert had that old file until that Sunday night when he ate with Chloe and Robert. Chloe left while they were still eating, and something was said that made Elders realize that Robert was going to pursue it, find out who had tipped off the police about the key, and that Robert would decide it had to have been him. The grade, the way Elders watched Jill the night of the party, a lot of little things that he had seen and paid no attention to would have coalesced, and then the business of the key and the tip. He said Robert was a good prosecutor, remember. But even more than that rationale, David had come back. All the old hurt and feeling of betrayal, or whatever Elders felt about it, was surfacing again, and here was Robert, the man who had slept with the woman he had thought was his, had paid to sleep with her. Elders could have gotten the gun that evening without any trouble. He had the run of the house, and knew about it. He did get it, and he used it. And again tried to frame David, by telling the police the story he made up.”

Frank had subsided, and was leaning back in his chair simply watching and listening, with such a look of skepticism that it was almost withering.

“I know,” she said. “Not an iota of proof. But there could be damning evidence, Dad. He ambushed David, tried to kill him, assuming his death would finish the cycle, wipe the slate, close the case with David the accepted killer, and all three of them dead and gone. The three who had made a fool of him.”

“What evidence?” Frank got in when she paused this time.

“Mrs. Elders ended up in a wheelchair, but she had used a walker, and before that, had she used a heavy walking stick? It seems a reasonable assumption, with that kind of progression. If she used a stick, it would have been a heavy one. She was very heavy, overweight. Is that walking stick still in the house? If it is, there could be traces of hair and blood. And will his shoes still have traces of David's blood? He might have thought he cleaned them, but you know how hard it is to really clean it off all the way. And shoes, all the seams in the upper parts, the shoelaces? If those shoes are still there, they'll have traces of blood. He's so sure of himself, I doubt he gave a thought to getting rid of the shoes or the walking stick. I doubt that he ever gets rid of anything.”

She drank her coffee while Frank thought about it, and she fully understood his doubts, and knew how difficult it would be to convince anyone of the truth of her theory. But there had to be a way to demonstrate that truth.

“I keep remembering how many times you said Elders was jealous of David, and I think he was for the reason you thought, but also because he still must believe that David and Jill were lovers. The real story about the key was never made public, and who would have told him? So, unless Robert did, he probably still thinks it. And I also remember how many times you've said in the past that once a person has killed someone, it seems easier to do it again.” She sighed deeply.

Very quietly she then said, “Dad, I believe he's insanely jealous of David and always was. But now, if he's fixed his sights on Lucy McCrutchen, and if he thinks you're competing, and if he thinks that her eventual brush-off is because of you, I think she could be in danger. And so could you—the final solution. Murder gets easier.”

“E
xhibit one,” Barbara said, back in her own office. She had cleared the table, stacked papers in a precarious pile and kept the few that had been on the sofa. She pointed to the topmost one as she spoke. “A syllabus from her statistics class, dates when various assignments were due, papers, quizzes, whatever. She was checking them off as she did them, and it was okay until March, then nothing, until new dates were penciled in and eventually checked off. March thirteenth, extended to May first. It's like that for all of her other classes. All checked off eventually except history. Elders's class, same thing until March, new dates penciled in, but only two check marks. Look at the list of books he assigned her, eleven in all, with papers due in two weeks. And a character out of history to defend. She couldn't do it.”

Frank studied the papers, put them down silently and waited.

“Exhibit two,” she said. “Robert McCrutchen's curious drawing.” This time she put the sheet of paper with
x
's on the table, and beside it another sheet with the same
x
's, but with some additions. “I finished it the way Amy finished hers, filling in the blank spaces, the end of the deck, yard, and so on. Amy allowed for her mother and her own positions, and Robert allowed for the eight-foot space from the end of the deck to the hedge, and beyond to the table and chairs, and another
x.
” With the new additions, the whole was neatly centered, exactly as Amy's had been centered when finished.

“He allowed space to finish it,” Barbara said, “but he didn't get a chance. He knew, Dad. That's what that means. He knew Elders heard it all.”

She watched Frank study the new drawing for a long time, put it down and stare into space for what seemed another long time.

“No one knew the truth about the key except the ones involved in the apartment business,” she said when he turned his gaze back to her, “and Jill didn't even have it until she got to the party and David gave it to her. Robert saw that, and Elders heard about it when they had the confrontation on the deck. Robert would have reasoned that Elders was the one who tipped off the police. Robert had experience as a prosecutor. He knew to what lengths Jill had gone to make twenty-five dollars, and I have no doubt he would have guessed how far she had gone to make her grades. She said he disgusted her, they all disgusted her. Probably neither he nor Elders took that to mean she was a lesbian, any more than Bailey did, but rather that she had used other men either for money or for grades. He would have put the pieces together. He knew she missed half the seminars, but she graduated and kept her scholarship. He had known Elders all his life and knew he was strict, one who set the rules and followed them.”

“You can't make the case,” Frank said quietly. “All he has to do is deny that he sat on the patio that night, and claim that Jill Storey made her oral report to his satisfaction and handed in the various papers. It isn't up to him to explain why she didn't keep the notes or copies with her other papers. She could have lost them, or tossed them. He'll be seen as a gentleman in his seventies, a respectable, retired professor without a blemish on his reputation, and you'll be defending a man seen as godless and perhaps anti-American. It won't even be a contest.”

“I know. That's why I want to start with the shoes and the walking stick.”

“Have you figured out your next step?”

She nodded. “I intend to serve him with a subpoena to appear as a defense witness. I expect him to protest, since he's already on the D.A.'s list as a prosecution witness. I'll explain to him that as a hostile defense witness he'll have to answer questions that haven't come up in his previous testimony.”

Baiting the tiger, Frank thought, always a dangerous game to play. He said, “No judge is going to permit a fishing expedition in order for you to investigate a possible alternative explanation in the course of a trial. An accusation against Elders in public without a shred of corroboration will be considered no more than a smear, a desperate ploy to save your client. The judge will toss it and most likely admonish you.”

She nodded. “I know. A subpoena is my opening gambit. We'll go on from there.”

She stood and stretched. “You should go on home. It's late. I'm going to put my things away here and head out. Thanks for dinner.”

He got up and they went to the outer office where he gathered his basket and the dishes. “Remember, dinner tomorrow night. Fresh halibut.” At the outer door, he paused and said, “When you figure out your next move, let me in on it.”

After she closed and locked the door behind him, she smiled ruefully. Canny old man, he knew she was groping in the dark and had no next move planned yet. But, she also thought in satisfaction, for the first time this case felt right. It felt exactly right. The shoes fit.

On Friday Barbara told Maria that if Elders called, to tell him she was tied up and would call back when she had time. “Let me know if he does, and when,” she added. She looked in on Shelley, who was on the phone. “When you're done, come on back,” she said, waved and went on to her own office.

At her desk she placed a call to Bailey. “Something for you,” she said. “When you have a few minutes, no rush, but today sometime.” He said half an hour. Next she called Frank. “Want to drop in? Bailey's coming in half an hour.” He said he would be there. Satisfied, she considered the next day or two. With the trial scheduled for two weeks from Tuesday, it would be tight, but not impossible. She crossed her fingers. Not impossible.

Shelley tapped on her door, then entered. “Something for me to do?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes, indeed. Might not be possible, but go through the motions at least.” She gave her the list of books Elders had assigned to Jill Storey. “As I said, it might be an impossible task, but I'd like to know how many of these are available in the U of O library or the public library, if they were available twenty-two years ago, how many would be interlibrary loans, and to make a miracle complete, how many of them Jill Storey actually checked out.”

Shelley glanced over the list and nodded, but she looked doubtful. “If they even have that on record, it might be hard to get very soon.”

“I know, and it might not be possible at all, but I want to be able to say we're checking. Don't ask to borrow any of them, just find out if they're available. How many copies they have might be good to know, also.” She motioned toward the easy chairs. “Have a seat. I'll bring you up-to-date while I'm waiting for Bailey and Dad.”

Shelley's eyes shone with excitement. “You have something!”

“Maybe,” Barbara said.

Although Bailey looked like a bum who had long since pawned his watch, he managed always to be on time, and he always delivered. His two saving graces, Barbara thought as she greeted him that day. Frank had already arrived.

They arranged themselves around the low table, helped themselves to coffee, and she began by filling in her conclusions about Elders. Bailey raised his eyebrows but offered no comment.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Barbara said, “I want you to get inside his house and make a search for a heavy walking stick or something of the sort. Don't take it, just get pictures, measurements, location. And see how many hard-soled leather shoes he has and pictures of them.”

“You want me to break and enter,” he said. “And get shot.”

“He won't be there,” she said. “And he'll leave through the back door. I can't believe he'd lock it behind him just to go next door. But if he does, well, your call.”

“Break and enter,” he said lugubriously.

“Don't get caught,” she said. “This is what I'm planning. I want to take Dad over to the McCrutchen house tomorrow. Elders is sure to pop in. He's jealous of Dad, thinks he's horning in on his territory, and he always shows up when we do. Be where you can see him go around the hedge from his place. I'll be sure to keep him for at least fifteen minutes, and I'll signal when you have to skedaddle. If you find the stick and get out before I call, you call me.”

Bailey looked decidedly unhappy. “Broad daylight, neighbors out and about. Illegal entry. Does he have a dog?”

“No dog. No cat. If he has goldfish, they're not likely to yell for help. Take a clipboard and a flashlight. They'll get you entry anywhere without a question.”

He scowled at her. “Barbara, don't tell me how to run my business. Okay?”

She grinned. “Right.”

They discussed it for several more minutes, and after Bailey and Shelley left, Frank said, “Then what?”

“If Bailey finds what I think he will, I want to get Elders here in the office on Monday, and have Dressler in Shelley's office listening to us. That attack on David was Dressler's assault case. I think I can interest him in resolving it.” She eyed him speculatively. “Any idea what kind of excuse we can come up with to go back to the house?”

“I'll think of something,” Frank said, but it was quite apparent that he was as unhappy as Bailey about the day shaping up.

Elders called at two and again at a few minutes past four. Each time Maria gave him the same message that Barbara was tied up and would return his calls as soon as possible.

“At five put on the voice mail,” Barbara said when Maria told her about the second call. The recording stated that the office was closed for the weekend and office hours would resume on Monday at eight in the morning. “Please call back,” Barbara said mockingly. “Your call is very important to us.” Maria giggled.

Shelley came in at four-thirty. “A few things,” she said, sitting on the sofa. “One of the books is up at Oregon State, one is in Princeton and one in the University of Pennsylvania. It would take three weeks to get the out-of-state books, if you're lucky. Longer than that twenty-two years ago. Two copies of two of them, one of each of the others at the U of O, one at the public library. If someone else had checked out a book or two, it could have been weeks before it was returned. If there's a record of who checked out what that long ago, no one today seems to know where it would be. They doubt it exists at all. I made a copy of that list and put down where each one of the books is.” She put the list on the table.

“Good girl,” Barbara said. “That son of a bitch assigned those books knowing Jill couldn't get them in time to make a report in a couple of weeks. Sadistic bastard.”

“You think he did it deliberately, don't you?”

Barbara nodded. “I do. Are you going to be home on Sunday?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Darren's really pleased that David's started working with the red ball, some kind of milestone. He wants to see him, and give him a new set of exercises, and depending on what Bailey finds, I'll want to talk things over with you. I thought Sunday might be a good time for both, if it's convenient for you and Alex.”

“You know it is. Now my news. Alex and David sent in a proposal a few weeks ago and the agents seem to think they have a very good offer coming in the next few days. They're both being so closemouthed about what they're up to, I can't stand it, but Alex is pretty happy with what his agent told him.”

“I guess you're getting a touch of what Alex goes through when you're hot on a case and he's clueless about what's up. I'm amazed at how well Darren is accepting it. I think he's taking his cues from Alex. Everyone is someone's mentor these days.”

“I think we both latched on to some pretty good guys,” Shelley said with a soft smile.

After Shelley left, Barbara told Maria to go home. “I don't want anyone on hand in case Elders decides to come calling. I'll leave as soon as I clear my desk.”

Then, straightening up in her office, thinking of Shelley's words, she thought that there were times when she envied Shelley. It didn't bother her at all that she did little or nothing about being a conventional good wife, one who planned the meals, did the shopping, the many things that girls were taught came with their role in life. And Alex was one of the happiest men Barbara knew.

She stopped shuffling papers to put away and said under her breath, “I'll make it up to Darren later.” She couldn't have said exactly what she would make up since he was to all appearances also a very happy man. But he deserved more from her, she felt, and there it was again, a wave of guilt that she seemed unable to shed.

Briskly, she finished putting things away. Halibut at her father's house, leftovers for home, no doubt. Sunday dinner with him, and more leftovers. Four very good meals in the offing to counter the sketchy meals they had been having, with Darren working late most days, Todd with a heavy load of homework, and Barbara a kitchen klutz.

“I'll learn to cook more dishes,” she said vehemently. “After this case is over and done with.”

If she couldn't be guilt-free, then she had to learn to cook at the very least. Even as she mouthed the words, she suspected she was either kidding herself or lying.