Dying for a Change (16 page)

I started to feel restless. The sound of voices still came from the kitchen, but they seemed to be fewer, and more controlled. I wanted to know what was happening, but didn’t feel up to risking Dan’s wrath if I interrupted something. I looked around Dottie’s small living room, really looked at it for the first time. A comfortable love seat covered in white, nubby material, strewn with pillows. A large easy chair, bright with big flowers, and a matching hassock. The rocking chair I was in, the TV, a bookshelf, a couple of low tables holding crystal lamps, and a lovely, open, Chippendale style slant front desk completed the room. I got up and examined the books. Gardening books, books on antiques, some historical novels, and a whole shelf of red bound ‘classics’. They didn’t look used. I wandered over to the desk and absently looked at the things on it, but my ears strained to hear what was happening in the kitchen.

Gradually, the desk claimed my attention. It was so neat, so organized, just like Dottie. A pretty flowered jug held pencils and pens, a shallow dish held paper clips. Opened bills were neatly stacked, ready to be paid. I wondered who would pay them now. Dottie had no family in Santa Louisa that I knew of. A lone envelope lay on the desk blotter. A Harpers Land Sales envelope. I took a closer look. It was addressed to Hank Sawyer.

I reached out to pick it up, but quickly drew back my hand. I had no idea what police procedure was for this kind of thing, or even if there was any. If I’d been alone, no police in the other room, then, maybe--but I wasn’t, they were, and I figured I’d better get Dan.

I pushed at the door cautiously, peering through the crack. A man knelt beside Dottie, a stethoscope around his neck, putting away a long thermometer. “She was shot in the back, the bullet exited somewhere under her left breast. See?” He pointed down at Dottie. The blood had dried, and I could see, for the first time, a shattered hole in the yellow sweatshirt. “She was dead when she hit the floor. Your guys find the bullet yet? Good.” He stood up, grunted, made some notes in a book, then put everything in a black case.

“
Send her over to the hospital. I’ll do her in the morning.” He nodded at Dan, who nodded back. He picked up his case, and left.

Dan moved out of the way of a man with a flash camera, turned to say something to another man, who was carefully putting something in a brown paper bag, when he spotted me.

“
I thought I told you to stay in there.”

“
You did, but I’ve found something.”

“
How could you find something if you’d stayed put?”

“
For heaven’s sake, Dan, I was only wandering around. Come in here.”

Dan looked around the kitchen, seemed satisfied with what was going on, and followed me back into the living room.

I led him the desk. “Look!”

“
At what?”

“
At the envelope, of course. It’s addressed to Hank. I think you should open it.”

“
Why?”

I couldn’t tell if Dan was deliberately acting dumb, or if he really thought whatever was in that envelope wasn’t important. I stood, slightly open mouthed, looking up at him, trying to think of something to say, but he saved me the trouble.

“
Hey, Mike.” That was addressed to the bald man who had just entered the living room. “You ready to start in here?”

“
Yep.” The man had powder, paintbrush, and what looked like clear tape ready, and was looking around, evidently for a good starting point.

“
Do me a favor. Start here.” Dan pointed at the desk.

The man shrugged, and walked over toward us. Dan pulled me out of the way.

“
What’s he doing?”

“
Fingerprinting.”

“
Why? If whoever shot Dottie was in here and saw that letter, he’d have taken it.”

“
Ellie.” Dan ran his fingers through his hair. “First, we don’t know that envelope has any connection to anything. Second, will you let me run my investigation my way?”

We did it his way.

Mike finished, and Dan finally reached for the letter. He gingerly opened the flap and slid out a sheet of paper. Names. It was nothing but names. Only this time there were two columns, and at the bottom, in Dottie’s neat handwriting, was a note. “Here is it, just like you asked. I hope you understand all this, because I don’t.”

“
What does that mean?”

“
I’ve no idea.” He was studying the list, reading the names. Finally, he said, “This must be the new partners. Look, here’s the Bullock’s, Mary’s friends, and here’s Alive Ives. Beside them, and several of the others, are new names.” He studied it some more. “It looks like James Robinson bought out the Bullock’s and Paul Cameron took Alice’s shares. Do you know any of these people?”

“
Never heard of any of them. Do you suppose they’re local?”

“
Beats me. There’s no addresses for them.”

“
Does it matter?”

“
Don’t know that either.” He carefully folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. “I guess I’ll hang on to this, but I’m not sure why. Let’s see if they’re through in the kitchen. If they are, you can go home.”

“
What are you going to do?” I didn’t want to stay here, but I didn’t want to go home either. Not alone. To an empty house.

“
Oh, Ellie, my night’s just starting,” he said sadly. “Come on, let’s see if we can get you out of here.”

The kitchen was empty. Dottie was gone, leaving behind only a chalk mark on the kitchen floor. The man with the paper sack was drawing diagrams in a notebook, and another man in a sports jacket and jeans stared at a hole in a cupboard door.

“
Are you going to be all right?” Dan asked, as I climbed into my car.

“
I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

“
Maybe I should call Mary, have her come over and spend the night.” His hand was still on the car door.

The shakiness I’d had in the living room was back and threatening to get worse, but I wasn’t going to let Dan know it.

“
No,” I said. “Don’t do that. I’m all right. Really.”

“
You know, Ellie, a shock like this, you’re bound to have a reaction. Even happens to us hardened police. Sure you don’t want Mary?”

“
I’m sure.” I proved it with a weak smile.

“
I’ll call you in the morning.” He watched me back slowly out the driveway.

My knees held me up just long enough to close the garage door and make it into the kitchen. I collapsed in a straight back chair and looked around. My nice, cozy, secure, safe house. I thought about Dottie. Why had someone killed her? She was a threat to someone, but who? I refused to believe Tom would kill her in cold blood. He might hit someone if he lost his temper, or even bash someone with a—I shuddered. Maybe. But shoot someone? In the back? I didn’t believe it. Would Benjamin? He was crazy enough, but what could Dottie know about him? Ray, however, was a different story. Dottie and Hank had been seeing each other. Hank knew something incriminating about Ray and was going to expose him. Wasn’t it likely Dottie also knew whatever it was? Maybe the evidence against Ray was in one of our office files. Dottie would know, and she’d know how to pull it out. I pictured Ray creeping around the side of Dottie’s house, watching her through the window, easing open the kitchen door, waiting for her to turn her back, raising the gun...

Enough. I could feel cold sweat starting to break out. I got up, thinking, I’ve got to go to bed. My flannel nightgown, and a small glass of brandy, that’s what I need, and I’ll be fine in the morning. Then I did something I never do. I locked the back door.

Morning arrived, clear and brittle. The radio weatherman talked about record lows and the roof, lawn and fence posts were heavy with frost. Jake and I sat in my warm kitchen, staring out the window, me at nothing, Jake at whatever cats stare at. I was still in my bathrobe and slippers, working on my third cup of coffee and my fifteenth try at making sense of Dottie’s death, when the phone rang.

“
Hey, Mom.” Susannah’s voice rang out brightly in the gloom-laden atmosphere, and immediately I started to feel better.

“
I thought I’d come up tomorrow afternoon, spend the weekend with you.” She said that much too casually. “I thought you might need some company.”

What she really meant was she wanted to do laundry, needed money, or both. But it sounded great to me. “Honey, I can’t think of anything I’d like better. Company is exactly what I need.” Then I told her everything that had happened.

There was a loud silence from Susannah’s end, then, “Are you all right?”

Bless the child. “Yes, I’m all right. Shook up, but all right.”

“
Well! It’s a good thing I’m coming,” she stated emphatically. “You don’t need company. You need someone to run interference. I think you better stay in the house and keep the doors and windows locked until I get there.”

Isn’t youth wonderful? Susannah had reached the ripe old age of nineteen. I was over the hill at forty, and she was now going to take care of her aging mother.

“
I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” I said, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice, “at which time I’ll bring you up to date on unfolding developments.”

“
Be careful,” instructed Susannah, “and don’t forget to buy Oreo’s.”

Life was back to normal. Almost. Anyway, moping was no longer an option. I put Jake outside, got myself into the shower and some clothes, and headed for the office. I walked in on a major drama.

Dan was there, stern and official looking. Young Gary, complete with notebook, was one step behind him. Tom, ashen faced, stood opposite them. Nicole pressed against Tom, her eyes wide and frightened. Sharon, poised in her office doorway, was the only one to look up as I entered.

“
Tell me again,” Dan said to Tom. “You were on Morning Glory Lane Sunday afternoon, but you didn’t go into the house Hank was building, and you didn’t see Hank. Is that right?”

Tom hesitated before answering. “Partly,” he said finally. He glanced down at Nicole, then put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer into his side. “I was there, and I went into the house, but that was before Hank got there.”

“
Why?” Dan’s blue eyes were as cold as steel and there was nothing friendly in that clipped single word.

“
Because I didn’t want to sell Hank’s house, that’s why.” Tom’s voice practically vibrated with bitterness. “I have a client who’s interested in it. I hoped that other new one next door would work, and I could get them to buy it instead.”

“
And you never saw Hank?”

Tom hesitated again. He gave a shuddery little sigh that could have been a sob. “I saw him. I was in the next-door house and I watched him drive up. I didn’t want to talk to him, so I waited until he got inside, then I left. I guess that’s where I stepped in the drywaller’s mud.”

“
And then what did you do?”

“
I took them off. My shoes. They were just old sneakers, ones Nicole’d been at me to throw out, and I knew that stuff would never come off.”

“
What did you do with them?” Dan looked pretty exasperated. I didn’t blame him. Getting information out of Tom was as hard as getting pickles out of a jar.

“
I threw them in the trunk, then drove to that new little store and bought running shoes. Ask the clerk. He’ll remember.”

“
We’ll ask. And the old shoes?”

“
I threw them away.” Nicole’s voice was so faint I could barely hear it. “The trash man picked them up yesterday.” Her voice got a little louder, and she moved a little straighter in Tom’s arm. “And they didn’t have any blood on them.”

“
That’s going to be hard to prove, now they’re gone.” Dan’s tone was mild, but his eyes weren’t. “Tell me about Dottie.”

“
She saw me turning out of Morning Glory Lane.” I didn’t think it was possible for Tom to look more miserable, but he managed. “She asked me about it after Hank was found dead. I told her I’d seen Hank, but I didn’t kill him. I didn’t even speak to him. Dottie believed me.”

“
Did you see anyone else on that street?” Dan asked.

“
No,” Tom said. “All those houses are new, Hank’s was the most finished. No one was around.”

I started to ask Tom about Dottie’s strange comment yesterday morning, took a good look at Dan’s face, and changed my mind.

“
All right.” Dan’s patience was clearly on its last legs. “Dottie believed you. Why? What did she say?”

Tom looked down at Nicole, who nodded encouragement at him. “She said she knew I hadn’t done it. She—well--she intimated she might know who had killed Hank, or at least why. She asked me not to say anything for a couple of days. I wanted to tell you, or someone, I’d been there, but Dottie was insistent. She said if I was a suspect the truth might never come out.” Tom paused, then took a deep breath and went on. “I was scared, so I agreed.”

That explained Dottie’s comment yesterday. I was beginning to feel better. Surely Dan could see Tom was telling the truth, and that meant he’d look elsewhere. Benjamin? I hoped not. Ray? Sadly, that seemed only too possible.

“
Have you told Chief Dunham about the gun in your glove compartment, Tom ‘ol boy?”

I gave an involuntary little gasp and whirled around. I hadn’t heard Ray come in, but there he was, smiling, but there was no mirth in it. He couldn’t have announced his arrival more dramatically if he’d dropped a bomb, which I guess he did. Tom stiffened, Nicole moaned, Sharon muttered something under her breath. Unfortunately, Dan looked interested.