Murder Takes to the Hills (33 page)

“All right, whatever you think is best. But,
Sonnny
, there’s one part of this I was too frightened and upset to tell you about earlier. And that whole situation at
Beulaland
didn’t help.”

She told him of her experience with the men—particularly the supervisor—working on the broken water main.

“I hope this hasn’t caused you to waste a lot of time and taxpayer money. I was just too rattled even to bring it up. Alex didn’t know, either,” she added, “until shortly before we came home.”

Sonny just shrugged. “It could well have caused you to think you were being followed, and you actually may have been…by him or someone else. Edgar and I will get a look at this guy if they’re still dawdling along with those repairs. At least we’ll know who we’re looking for.”

Later in the week we received a bouquet that would have been quite at home in the winner’s circle of the Kentucky Derby. The enormous card hoped we would visit
Beulaland
again soon and was signed by all the people we had met and several we couldn’t recall. Even
Jeffie
had managed to get his signature included.

We kept the card, divided the bouquet into quarters and took it to the clinic to be given to those who might be lacking in that sector.

We thought about the card for a few minutes and decided it was too soon to say whether we couldn’t wait for next spring to go back…or whether it was the last place we would ever set foot.

When I returned from the usual errands Friday morning the phone answering machine was flashing peremptory blinks that indicated three calls had come in.

For some reason, even not knowing what they were, I was not inclined to listen to them. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to want to know. I put away the groceries that needed the freezer or refrigerator. I let Fargo out—the fountain was not running, although it was still the first area he headed for.

 
I went in the bedroom to check on Wells. Although the Orrick crew was long gone and she knew Fargo and I were now at home, she was still in hiding. I crawled under the bed to give her a pet and coax her to come out. Suddenly I heard the dim distant chirp of my cell phone.

I lay there a moment wondering where it could be, and then remembered the T-shirt I had worn briefly yesterday. It was in the pocket. To answer or not to answer? Three calls on the tape, at least one call on the cell. Somebody really wanted me.

Reluctantly, I rolled out from under the bed and over to my bureau. See, I knew right where the little phone was!

“Hello.”

“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you half of the morning.”

“And it’s nice to hear
your
voice this lovely day! Stop yelling, Sonny, there’s no law saying I have to report to the police before I do the weekly shopping. What do you want?” I sat up and leaned against the bed.

“I want you to get Cindy and bring her over here to ID the so-called stalkers, and I figured she would be more comfortable if you were with her.”

“That’s very thoughtful. Of course I will. What do you mean
so-called
stalkers—and stalkers, plural? Did Edgar catch them?”

“Not exactly. He and Larry
Wismer
were both involved. They are at the clinic getting patched up…nothing serious. Old Mrs.
Wismer
is on her way here, so get a damn move on.”

“What has she got to do with this?” His sweet little ol’ granny? How could she be involved?

“She may have to post bail for Larry, and he’s a minor so she has to be here anyway. Just
move it!”
He hung up.

I moved it. I called Cindy and told her Edgar had caught the stalker—I made it singular. I did not say Edgar was injured, I didn’t mention Larry at all. I told her Sonny needed her “for identification” purposes, and that I would pick her up in the bank parking lot in fifteen minutes. I saw no reason to have her as befuddled as I was.

I read once that Einstein on one occasion gave a flip description of his theory of relativity:
Five minutes seems only a second when you are dancing with a lovely woman; it is an hour when you are sitting on a hot radiator.

Well, I was with the lovely woman, but the ten-minute drive was feeling like an hour. Cindy was one long question, from the minute I picked her up. How did Edgar identify and arrest the stalker? How would she know him? She had never really seen him in action. Was he a local she would recognize? Did I—Alex—know him? Did Sonny think he was dangerous?

I muttered vague answers, since I had no concrete ones. After an eternity, we reached the police station and I practically ran inside, leaving Cindy to play catch-up. I couldn’t face another question.

Sonny met us at the door with some questions of his own before he took us into the conference room—a transparent euphemism for interrogation room.

“Cindy,” he asked at once, “do you remember where they had Commercial Street dug up for days, looking for and finally fixing that water main leak?”

“Uh, yes, sure.” She looked bewildered.

“And you did have more than one occasion to be in that area while it was being worked on?”

“Oh, probably a number of times. I have lunch down that way fairly often. I remember going to the drugstore once…and maybe to Lena’s Little Boutique to pick up some stockings. Why?”

“Do you remember how many workers there were and what any of them may have said to you?”

She leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling for a minute.

Finally, she nodded. “As I told you the other day, there were anywhere from two to four young guys and an older man. The older guy was not in coveralls. He had on a blue shirt and pants, like maybe he was some sort of boss. He looked cleaner, too. Some of the young guys said stuff like, ‘Hey, honey, got time to go for a
beer?’and
‘Meet me after work and wear that tight skirt you had on yesterday.’ And one said I looked tired and did I want him to tuck me in. Oh, yes, one of them said I had a nice ass. You know, typical male macho stuff. I simply ignored it all—I didn’t even bother to tell them to go to hell.”

“What about the older man, what did he say?” Sonny watched her sharply.

“Nothing at first. Then one day s-something really nasty, as I told you the other day...I just ignored it, tried to forget it.” She was pale and obviously frightened.

“Honey, you really should have told me.
 
Exactly what did he do?” I asked.

“I didn’t quite hear every word, but I got the gist of it. It scared me, but I thought if I told you, you’d confront him and get hurt. And I wasn’t even sure of exactly what he looked like. Oh, God, I’ve handled this whole thing wrong!”

I could see tears about to roll and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“No, you haven’t. We’ll straighten it out.”

Sonny took her arm gently. “Let’s go in…so we can get out fast.” He smiled down at her.

I followed them down the hall. Cindy looked back at me. I shrugged. She knew as much as I did.

In the conference room sat three young men in grubby coveralls bearing the logo of the Water Department and looking scared. There was also an older man with graying hair and looking somewhat like Edgar Fountain. I found myself wondering if they could be brothers. Then I noticed he wore a blue workman’s uniform with an ID tag on his shirt pocket: R.J. Travis. Well, maybe they were cousins.

Sonny motioned for us to sit, while he remained standing and cleared his throat as he turned on the tape recorder. He gave the names of everyone present and finally got to specifics.

“Cynthia Hart, do you recognize these four men, and from what encounter?”

Cindy looked puzzled for a moment, and then hit her stride. “Yes, I do. They were working on the water main leak on Commercial Street about two weeks ago.” Then she again went down the list of their comments to her.

Sonny indicated Mr. Travis. “Did this man make any similar comments?”

“Yes. Later.
 
Something about a van and a hot potato…and…uh, having sex. I didn’t hear it all clearly.”

“Ah!” Sonny sounded triumphant. “But someone else did hear it clearly!
”

He turned to Travis. “You see, Mr. Travis, although Ms. Hart was almost out of earshot, a young man happened to be standing in front of the drugstore, where he was to meet a friend.
He
clearly heard you say…” Sonny looked down at a three-by-five card with writing on it. “You said, ‘Tuck her
in
? I may just toss her into the van and fuck her up. Us older guys know how to treat a hot potato.’ You did say that, didn’t you?”

“I don’t recall saying that,” Travis mumbled.

“Uh-huh.” Sonny gave the men his shark’s grin. “All four of you are guilty of making lewd solicitations in public. You also may well have infringed on this young lady’s civil rights: any woman is entitled to walk down the street without being subject to such remarks as you made.”

Cindy’s eyebrows had done their moving toward the top of her forehead act. I wondered if Sonny was making up laws as he went along, although his accusations did sound logical. But he wasn’t finished.

“But you, Mr. Travis, are also guilty of threatening kidnap and rape.”

Cindy turned pale again; obviously just this phrase frightened her badly. It frightened me.

Travis banged the table with his palm. “I didn’t say no such thing! I may have said she was good-looking or something. Whoever says I was going to rape her is crazy.”

“Sure.” Sonny looked at him pityingly. “Well, maybe these young oafs will remember what you said if the prosecutor drops their charge to a misdemeanor.” The three oafs began grinning and winking at each other. They would remember Travis threatened to shoot the president if it would get them off lighter.

Sonny frowned portentously and made a note on the card before him. I saw that it read: Pick up chicken and squash for Mom.

“Well, I’m not holding any of you until we evaluate Mr.
Wismer’s
statement, but don’t plan any trips. You may go…for now.”

They cleared the room with three-alarm speed. As soon as they were in the hall, I turned to my brother. “Larry
Wismer
? Is that kid everywhere? Isn’t he that young stock market whiz hanging around Cindy all the time? What’s this with
Wismer
being a witness?”

“That’s what I want to know,” said a woman’s well-modulated voice from the doorway.

Larry’s dear old granny had arrived: tall, slender, attractive and late fifties max.

She wore navy slacks and an undeniably blue shirt with white collar and cuffs. Her only real sign of age was her white wavy hair, partially covered by a jaunty panama hat that matched her shirt.

Sonny was on his feet, introducing himself, Cindy and me, helping Mrs.
Wismer
into a chair, thanking her for being so prompt and straightening his tie all at the same time.

“Did Larry actually hear such a terrible threat? Why didn’t he tell me? And where is he, by the way? Not in your custody for some reason, surely.”

Sonny took a deep breath and began. “The four men were working on a water leak on Commercial Street when Cindy Hart crossed the street. One of them made a rather harmless come-on comment to her. She ignored him. Your grandson was outside the drugstore, waiting for a friend. He heard both this remark and the more serious one made by the older man, a supervisor named Travis, which comment I believe you overheard from the hallway. Yes?”

“Yes.” Mrs.
Wismer
nodded. “Sickening. I wish Larry had told me. I would have called the Town Manager at once. Believe me, he would have had that Travis man fired in a heartbeat.”

I felt an automatic liking of the lady, but I couldn’t let Travis’s threat be foisted off on to the dubious efforts of the town council.