6 Death Takes The Blue Ribbon (7 page)

Chapter Thirteen

I didn’t get to spend a lot of time dwelling on my conversation with Dale, because Ellen Carpenter, our society reporter, knocked on the door just after he left. “Lizzie, why is Jake sitting at Bruce’s desk, cursing and using your name in vain?”

Sighing, I stood up. “Because he can’t write the story he wants to write. Instead, he’s stuck writing the story Dale and I suggested he write. And he hates the suggestion.”

“Well, it must be a doozy, because I heard him say he was going to write the story however he wanted to, and then he suggested a place for you to go and visit.”

“I’ll just bet he did,” I said as my cell phone rang. “Ask him to come in here a minute, would you please, Ellen? Thanks.” I waited until she walked out and then answered the call. “Hello?”

“How did you manage to get Stephen Henderson, the top criminal attorney in the entire state, to come down to our little town and represent Gladys?” T.J. said.

“I didn’t. Jake did.”

“He did?”

“Who else do you know who has those kinds of connections? One phone call and a promise to attend a dinner function, and the guy agreed to come down here.”

“Wow, so Jake has a heart after all.”

“I wouldn’t go that far at the moment,” I replied as Jake stormed into the office. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be down there in a little while.” Hanging up, I dropped the phone on the desk, crossed my arms, and looked at him. “I understand you’re making a nuisance of yourself out there.”

“I’m doing exactly what you asked me to do, Ms. Crenshaw,” he said. “I am writing a whitewashed version of a story that should be making news all across the country.”

“I am not going to run a newspaper that hangs a person out to dry before all the evidence has been gathered and the investigation has been concluded. If that’s the kind of newspaper you want to work for, then my previous statement stands. Go back East to your rich friends who will kiss your butt in the hopes of getting a little money from your father.”

“That’s hitting below the belt.”

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it? Too bad. You’re not going to build a name for yourself by smearing the good name of a woman who is innocent. And by the way, that was T.J. on the phone. Your high priced attorney friend is at the station with Gladys.” I picked up my phone and walked toward the door. “Now, I would appreciate it if you would finish the story like we agreed. Nothing more, nothing less.” I held up my hand when he started to protest. “I’m going over there right now to see how things are going. If they arrest her, then I’ll call you. If they let her go, then you publish the story that you’re working on. That’s the deal; take it or leave it.”

“That seems fair,” he reluctantly agreed. He studied me with a critical eye. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’m just not going to run a gossip rag, and I’m not going to crucify someone without concrete evidence they deserve it. And if you don’t like that policy, feel free to leave.” I turned around and walked out, leaving him standing in the middle of the office with his mouth hanging open.

I stopped by Ellen’s desk on the way out. “He won’t give you any more trouble,” I told her. “He’s working on a story about Harold’s murder. Make sure he doesn’t smear Gladys or say anything negative. If he does, take it out and call me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she laughed, giving me a snappy salute. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” I said, “don’t call me ma’am.”

I stood up and paced the lobby floor again. It had been thirty minutes since I got to the sheriff’s office, and I was getting a bit anxious for Gladys. T.J. had made a brief appearance, but just to get me something to drink and to have me wait out here. Abbie Sinclair, Alan’s wife, was working the front desk this morning. “You’re making me a nervous wreck, Lizzie,” she said. “Why don’t you sit back down?”

“I’ve spent most of the morning sitting. A little walking around will help burn off some of this nervous energy.”

“You’re going to wear a hole in the linoleum, and Owen will yell his head off about the expense.”

“He’ll get over it,” I muttered, glancing at his closed office door. “How long have they been in there?”

“About forty minutes,” Abbie replied. “The scuttlebutt going around is they found a lot of incriminating evidence at her house. Is that true?”

“Why ask me?”

“Alan said you were there.”

“Just to pick up something that Gladys asked for.”

“What was it? Some juicy letters from her secret lover?”

I looked at her, shocked. “Have you been reading those romance novels again? You know they always give you screwy ideas.”

“I know,” she sighed.

“Besides, can you imagine Gladys with a secret lover?” Just the mere mention of it made me shudder.

“Ugh, good point.”

“They were just some photo albums. Several people have told me that she and Harold were childhood sweethearts.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Abbie said.

Owen’s office door opened, and Gladys walked out, followed by a tall gentleman in a dark blue business suit. He shook hands with Owen and T.J. “I want to be kept informed of anything you turn up in the investigation.”

“You just make sure she’s available to answer more questions when we need her,” Owen grumbled.

“Of course, Sheriff. My client will cooperate fully with you and your people. Deputy Roosevelt, it was a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for the kindness you showed Mrs. Norwell. She told me that you were a perfect gentleman.”

“You’re welcome, Gladys, anytime,” T.J. said to her. He shook hands with the man, and then he and Owen went back into the office and closed the door.

Gladys stopped in front of me. She threw her arms around me and gave me a big hug. “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you so much for sending this wonderful young man to help me. Owen was ready to throw me into a cell, but Mr. Henderson pointed out that anyone could have planted that stuff in the trash. The thing was wiped clean, no prints at all. He pointed out that if it had come from my kitchen, my fingerprints would have been all over them. The fact that there are no rhubarb plants in our garden was a point in my favor, but Owen stubbornly said I could have bought some recently.” She shook her head. “He’s just as stubborn now as he was when he was a child.”

The man standing next to her held out his hand to me. “Stephen Henderson, Ms. Crenshaw. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I can see why Jake is so enamored with you.” I blushed. “He said you are the one who asked him to call me.”

“I asked him to call a criminal attorney. It was his decision to call you.”

“Well, I’m glad he did. I’d like to talk to you at some point, go over what happened yesterday at the fair.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost 1 p.m., and I’m starving. Is there a place where we can meet and get something to eat?”

“There’s a place called the Eat it or Starve Café not far from here in the town square. We can go there.”

“Wonderful. Now I just need to escort Mrs. Norwell home.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Gladys said. “I’ll call Iris, and she can pick me up. I’m staying with her until they say I can go home again.”

“Are you sure, Gladys?” I said. “I could run you home.”

“No, dear, you go right ahead and talk to Mr. Henderson. The sooner we find out who killed my Harold, the sooner I can go home. I need to start planning his…the…” she stammered to a halt.

“It will be ok, Gladys. Iris will help you,” I said, giving her another hug. “Just hang in there.”

“You’ve been very kind to me, Lizzie,” she said. “Your mother would be very proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

“But don’t think this means I like you,” she said before giving me a wink. She went over to Abbie’s desk to call Iris.

The lawyer and I walked out the front door and down the steps. “Is she always like that?” he asked me. “And what did she mean by that last remark?”

“Let’s just say Gladys and I get along better when we’re fighting, and leave it at that,” I replied. “Shall we go eat?”

Chapter Fourteen

After the meeting with the lawyer, I went back to the office to bust Jake’s bubble about announcing Gladys’ arrest. He was definitely disappointed, and I did a little cheer on the inside. It wasn’t often that I got one over on him, and I took a moment to enjoy it before going into our joint office. There was a note on the desk from Dale, telling me that the lawyer was working on the paperwork. It would be ready in a couple of days. He also told me to tell Jake, because he would be out of cell phone range.

I called Jake into the office just as the phone on the desk rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, girl, what happened to you at lunch?” Trixie said. “I waited for you until 12:45, and then I had to leave for a meeting.”

“I was tied up on business,” I replied as Jake walked in.

“Are you free tonight?”

“Yeah, I think so. Your place or mine?”

“Yours. My mother is hosting her poker club at my house tonight.”

“Why isn’t she meeting at her house?”

“Beats me. I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. She
told
me they were meeting at my house.”

“Gotcha. Alright, my place it is. Girls’ night only,” I said, looking pointedly at Jake, who grinned and shrugged.

“Company in the office?”

“Oh yes, of the slimy kind. Why don’t you grab some BBQ and I’ll stop at the store and get something for dessert.”

“Chunky Monkey?”

“Only the best for you, my dear.”

“You’re too good to me. See you about six, then?”

“Sounds good. Talk to you later.” I hung up the phone. “Close the door and sit down, Jake. We need to talk.”

Raising an eyebrow at me, he closed the door and sat down. “This sounds serious. Am I in trouble or something?”

“No, you aren’t in trouble. But this situation about the Norwell story has brought things to a head.”

“Look, I’m sorry about that,” he said sheepishly, “I was just thinking of the newspaper.”

“You were thinking of the money that we would bring in from selling out every copy because of the sensational story.”

“Well, yeah.”

“And that’s where you and I are different, Jake. I grew up here. This is my home. These people are like family. To me, they’re more than a money machine; they have a right to be treated with respect and dignity. Just because the major newspapers back East like to make a big deal out of stories like this, I think it’s more important to get the whole story instead of flying around, half-cocked, and telling just the part that sounds juicy. If we had run the story you wanted to about Gladys being the prime suspect in her husband’s murder, no one would ever get past that, even if it wasn’t true. It would ruin her life, and there’s no way I’m going to stand by and let that happen.” There was a knock on the office door. “Come in,” I called out.

Ellen came in, holding an envelope. “This was just dropped off at the front desk. It’s addressed to you,” she said, handing it to me.

“Thanks, Ellen.” She nodded and left. I opened the letter and read it, my eyes widening the more I read. “Son of a…”

“What’s wrong?” Jake said.

I laid the letter on the desk, and with the eraser of a pencil, slid it across the desk so he could read it. “Don’t touch it; just read it,” I told him, picking up the phone and dialing a number. “Abbie? It’s Lizzie Crenshaw. Would you ask T.J. to come over to the newspaper office? And tell him to bring a clear evidence bag and some latex gloves with him. Thanks.” I hung up and looked at Jake. “What do you think?”

“I think I owe you an apology,” he replied.

Using the eraser of the pencil again, I slid it back to my side of the desk. The letter said,
“You are always sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. If you had just kept quiet, they would have arrested that old battleax for Harold’s murder. Instead, they’re going to start looking for the truth, and I can’t afford to let that happen. I’m sorry things turned out the way they did; it wasn’t my intention. Watch your step, Lizzie, or you might be next.”
“Well, we’ve rattled someone’s cage, haven’t we?”

“No,” Jake said, “
you’ve
rattled someone’s cage. I haven’t done anything but call a lawyer.”

“For which Gladys is very grateful,” I told him.

“What did T.J. say?”

“I didn’t talk to him once Gladys and her lawyer came out of the office. He and Owen went back inside and closed the door.”

“Does Stephen really think he can get her off?”

“From what he said at lunch, yeah. There are no fingerprints on the mortar and pestle; there are no rhubarb plants in the Norwell garden. Gladys said they rarely use the back gate, yet the police report said that it had been opened recently, because there were fresh scuff marks in the ground. She swears that she hasn’t bought any rhubarb since last year, although Owen is going to do his best to disprove that one. I say good luck to him. If she bought some in the last few days, someone will remember her. There’s no way you can forget a woman like her.”

“That’s the truth,” Jake agreed.

I read the letter again. “What do you make of this part?
‘I’m sorry things turned out the way they did; it wasn’t my intention.’

“Maybe whoever did it didn’t mean for someone to die.”

I scoffed. “From what Doc Endicott told T.J., there was plenty of toxic greens in that pie to kill a person twice Harold’s size.” There was another knock on the door. “Come in.”

T.J. opened the door and came over to the desk. “What’s up? Why did you tell Abbie to ask me to bring all this stuff?”

Jake got up and closed the door as I pointed at the letter on the desk. “This was just delivered to the front desk. I thought you might want to look at it.”

“Trade places with me,” he said. He put on the latex gloves as he walked to the other side of the desk, and then bent over and read the letter. “Wow, talk about a smoking gun.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t point to one particular person,” I said.

“Who touched this?”

“I’m the only one that touched the letter. I slid it across the desk for Jake to read using a pencil so we wouldn’t smear what prints are on there. Ellen, myself and whoever took the envelope at the front desk are the only ones who touched that part.”

“I think we’ll have better luck with the letter,” T.J. said, opening the evidence bag and sliding the piece of paper inside before sealing it shut. “Does anyone else know about this?”

I shook my head. “You, Jake and I are the only ones who read it. The others have no clue.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way,” he said, taking the gloves off. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’ve some things to discuss with Jake before I leave for the day.”

“And once you leave here?”

“I’m planning to stop at the store to pick up some dessert, and then I’m going home to meet Trixie. She’s coming over for dinner.”

“Don’t go anywhere by yourself,” T.J. said. “Let Jake go with you.”

“Um, no. This is a girls’ night only. No men allowed.”

“Well, you’re going to have to make an exception tonight,” he said. “Whoever wrote this has already killed one person. I’d rather not let him make it two.”

Being a victim wasn’t high on my list of things to do today, either. “Alright, that’s fine. I’ll text Trixie and let her know to pick up enough for three people.”

“Make it four. I might drop in myself.”

“Lovely, let’s just make it a party, why don’t we?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jake said. T.J. agreed.

“Go to the store and pick up Chunky Monkey ice cream,” I told Jake. “Trixie prefers something with chocolate. And pick up a cherry cheesecake.” This time, I would make sure Mittens didn’t eat it.

“Chocolate and cheesecake, got it. Anything else?”

“No, that’s all.”

“Great, I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Hold on, I’ll walk out with you,” T.J. said. “I meant what I said, Lizzie, don’t go anywhere by yourself.”

“Scout’s honor.”

He nodded, satisfied that I was going to listen to him. Silly man. I followed them out, and watched them take off in opposite directions. As I turned to go back to my office to get my phone, I noticed two people sitting on a bench in the town square park. It was a man and a woman, and they were sitting very close together. He was whispering something in her ear, and she laughed at whatever it was. He looked around, as if he was checking to make sure he wasn’t being watched, and I got a good look at his face. It was Crandall Martin.

And I was pretty sure that the brunette sitting on the bench next to him was not his wife, Andrea. I knew for a fact she was a blonde.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave…