Flipped For Murder (20 page)

Chapter 29

Jim went out to talk with Wanda, having said he'd keep an eye on the door to make sure nobody else got in. I made another, even closer sweep of my apartment, but I still didn't find anything missing. I headed back to the party, this time making sure I locked the door after I closed it. Jim waved to me from across the room, where he stood with Wanda and Roy. By the time I waded through the crowd to them, Wanda held Roy firmly by the elbow.

“Robbie, are you willing to make a statement Roy Rogers unlawfully entered your apartment and took up a position of concealment?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Are you missing anything? I can add charges of larceny.” Wanda looked almost excited about the prospect.

“Nothing's missing. Not that I can tell, at least.”

Roy struggled. “The door to her apartment was open. I was only curious.”

Wanda strong-armed him and gave him the stink eye. “Roy, do I have to cuff you right here in front of the whole town?”

He glared at me, but he stopped resisting Wanda's hold. She walked him out the door.

The place was still bustling with partygoers, although the food was pretty much decimated. I snagged a forlorn quiche and downed it, then grabbed one of the last brownies. Luckily, the wine was still flowing. I poured out a cup of red and took a blessed sip, savoring the warming feeling as it went down. I gathered up a couple of plates and took the food refuse to the compost bucket, which was full.

Setting down my wine, I carried the bucket out the service door, letting it swing closed behind me, relieved to get out of the hubbub for a brief moment. I stopped when I sniffed cigarette smoke. Don's voice followed. Glancing over my shoulder, I realized he stood directly on the other side of the six-foot-high fence, which shielded the service area from the street.

“I saw you. I saw you drive up that afternoon.”

“So what? It's a public street.” Ed's voice, no longer sounding drunk.

“I kept watching. You went into her house.”

My eyes sprang open so far, I thought my eyeballs would pop out. Don was talking about Stella. Silence for a moment, and then a noisy inhale, followed by another waft of smoke.

“We used to go out, long time ago.”

“That's not why you visited her, and you know it. Did you kill her?”

“Of course not. For alls I know, you knocked her off.”

Don made a tsking sound. “Of course I didn't. Why would I?”

“Well, why would I?” Ed said with scorn.

“'Cause she was blackmailing you, just like she was soaking half the rest of town. What'd she have on you, huh? That you cheat on health inspections? That you molest girls?”

“Don't you even say it!” Ed was almost growling now. “You're the one who attempted murder some years back.”

My nose tickled with a sneeze coming on. There could be murder attempted on me if I didn't get back inside—and quick. The compost could wait. I slipped back into the kitchen and managed to wait until the door closed before letting loose with a major
“Achoo!”

 

 

I scanned the room for Wanda, until I remembered she'd taken Roy away. I stepped back into my apartment and left a message for Buck about what I overheard, then I headed back into the fray.

At ten before eight, Corrine whistled again. “Ten minutes to outbid your rivals, people,” she announced in a voice that overrode the murmur of conversation, the clinking of beer bottles, even the Beatles songs Georgia was picking out on the piano with a small cohort of fans gathered around her, singing along.

Almost everybody in the room dutifully wandered over to the donation table. I was intrigued by the prospect of banjo lessons with Abe. On my way to the table to see what the bidding was up to, I passed Ed, who was slouched in a chair alone at the table, a bottle of water having replaced the one of whiskey. He wore the pawprint pin on his wide lapel.

“Not bidding on anything, Ed?” I asked.

He gazed up at me. “I don't got any extra money, unlike some of you. I help the animals out in person.”

I kept my mouth shut on that one and kept on going. Resting on the donation table, Abe's cardboard banjo listed a couple dozen names on its sheet of paper. The last amount scribbled down was
$290.
I whistled. I didn't want banjo lessons that much. I found Jim writing on the sheet next to Adele's basket of yarn and gently elbowed him.

“I didn't know you were a knitter,” I murmured.

He chuckled as he finished writing his name and jotted down
$160
next to it. “I'm an amazingly well-rounded and brilliant Renaissance man. I do not, however, count knitting among my talents. My mom, on the other hand, runs through yarn like a machine.” He looked up and winked. “She's going to love this. I can give it to her for her birthday next month.”

“It don't matter none if I outbid you,” Barb said with a smile, sliding in next to him. “Your mama's not going to see no yarn.” She grabbed the pen and upped his amount by twenty dollars, writing
$180.
She glanced up at the big clock and then took her time writing her name in slow, deliberate movements, one letter at a time.

“Hey,” Jim said. He looked at his watch. “Nice try, but there's still two minutes.” He took the pen back.

I let them go at their friendly competition, all in a good cause, and moved down the line. It was gratifying to see the gift certificate for Pans ‘N Pancakes had been bid up to $150. These small-town Hoosiers possessed deeper pockets than I'd expected. Although, when I took a closer look, I saw it was only Vera and one other person who vied for the privilege of either a couple of hearty breakfasts or a few pieces of cookware. I stepped away to let serious bidders use their last moments, and turned back to check the food table.

Danna was moving about the room, clearing detritus from the tables. She held a stack of paper plates and crumpled napkins in one hand and several half-full drink cups suspended from the fingers of the other hand. As she went by where Ed sat, she gave him a wide berth. But it wasn't wide enough. I watched him lean out of his chair and squeeze her buttock. Danna whirled toward him as Corrine whistled again to signal the end of bidding.

“Don't you touch me, you dirty old lech,” Danna snarled. She threw the drink cups, red wine and all, in his face, then she delivered a fierce backhand slap across that same, shocked face.

Ed's eyes widened as he slid off his chair with a yell. The sound of his head hitting the floor wasn't a pleasant one. After that, you could have heard a pin drop. Heck, you could have heard a flea land. Everyone in the room stared.

“Danna Beedle, what-all are you doing?” Corrine called out.

Danna gave an angry glance at Ed, threw a defiant look at her mother, and ripped her apron off. She strode for the door.

“Sorry about that, Robbie. The filthy bastard
so
had it coming to him,” she muttered as she passed me.

I laid a hand on her arm until she paused. “You go, girl,” I murmured.

She threw me a sideways smile and kept on going. The door slammed shut behind her, but the bell kept jangling like a reminder not to mess with her.

Abe rushed to Ed's side, with Don close behind him. Ed didn't move. As Don stood, rubbing his thumbs and fingers together on each hand in an ineffectual gesture, Abe laid two fingers on Ed's neck.

“Get your hands off me, O'Neill,” Ed shouted, pushing Abe away and struggling to sit up.

Abe sat back on his heels. “Just wanted to be sure you weren't passed out, Ed,” he said in a calm voice. “That you didn't get a concussion.”

“I'd be fine if that little bi . . .” He glanced around him. “If that girl didn't haul off and whack me. Hey, Corrine,” he called across the room from where he sat, “what aren't you teaching that daughter of yours?”

“I'm teaching her to respect herself, that's what,” Corrine yelled at him, then turned her back. Somebody in the crowd gave a hoot of approval. I wasn't sure, but thought it might have been Adele.

Ed shook his head, his hands on his splayed-out legs. He grimaced as he felt the back of his head.

I walked over to Abe, who'd moved a couple yards away from Ed. I lowered my voice and said, “You sure Ed's going to be okay?”

“I was a navy medic. I think he's gonna be diagnosed as tipsy and stupid.”

“He hit his head pretty hard. I heard it thud.”

“Yeah. And it's his own damn fault.” Abe moved close to Ed again. “Does your head hurt?”

“Darn right it hurts. But it ain't bleeding.” He took his hand off his head and showed it to Abe, then glanced at me. “What are you looking at?”

I held my hands up, palms out. “I want to be sure you're all right.”

“Huh. Oughta discipline that so-called employee of yours,” he muttered. “Assaulting me like that.”

I took four steps until I stood above him. I tried to keep my voice level. “You're the one who groped her, Ed Kowalski. That's illegal, in case you didn't know.”

Chapter 30

Jim walked toward me a few minutes later as I kept busy tidying up the kitchen area, avoiding even looking at Ed.

“Ed left. A friend of his offered to drive him, which is good. He'll be okay.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Do you know if Danna has ever let the police know about Ed harassing her?”

“I don't know, but I'm going to encourage her to.” I exhaled and leaned into him. “I can't believe this day isn't over yet,” I said, then gazed around the room. I motioned Jim to bring his head closer to mine. “I'm going to go ask Don what happened, why they set him loose. Want to come?” I made a little motion with my index finger toward Don, who now sat slumped and alone at the same table where Ed had been.

“Why not?”

I took his hand and we meandered on over. Before we got there, though, Corrine split the air with her whistle yet again. She began to read out loud from each bid sheet, announcing the winners. Happy townsfolk high-fived each other when they won, but I also glimpsed a few disappointed looks. When she was done, she moved next to Turner at the table where he'd been taking donations.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she called out, then waited until the space quieted again, “I have great news. My able intern, Turner, is going to tell you how much we raised tonight for the shelter.” She glanced at Turner, who checked a slip of paper and then stood.

“We brought in a total of three thousand four hundred thirty-five dollars.”

A surge of applause filled the room. Corrine smiled and went on. “The Brown County Animal Shelter is going to be tickled pink. Thank you all for your generous tax-deductible donations. You can pay Turner for your bid and then pick up your item. If anyone needs a receipt, he'll be happy to fill one out for you.”

The “able” Turner
just barely
didn't roll his eyes, but instead nodded.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening. Our generous hostess has said she'll stay open until ten o'clock.”

Not exactly. I'd been
told
I would. As conversation resumed, I pulled out a chair at Don's table and Jim followed suit.

“Hey, Don,” I said. “Glad you could make it tonight.”

“Didn't much want to, but it's awful hard to say ‘no' to Corrine,” he said, worrying the label on his beer with his thumb.

“We heard they were holding you at the station.”

“Yeah. Somebody saw me go in Stella's door that afternoon.”

“What made Buck change his mind and let you go?” I asked.

Don let out a whoosh of breath. He rubbed at the label for another moment. “I didn't kill Stella. I kept telling them that.”

“Buck must have collected evidence that made him think you did,” Jim said, but he kept his tone casual and didn't try to make Don look at him.

“I was over there that afternoon, all right? Stella had been . . .” His voice trailed off.

I smiled in what I hoped was a sympathetic look. And waited, as did Jim. Smart man.

“She was blackmailing me,” Don finally said. “It was messing up my life. I went over there to tell her she needed to stop. That I didn't care anymore if she told the world.” He straightened and looked me directly in the eyes. In my Italian eyes.

“About Roberto?” I said in a soft voice.

Don nodded, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Jim give me an understanding nod.

“I talked to him in Italy on the phone this afternoon. So . . . what he said happened
is
true.” I watched Don's face.

Don spoke after a long pause. “It was a stupid thing to do, and I've regretted it the rest of my life. I repented and became a Christian after that.” He buried his face in his hands. “But it don't change what I done,” he said in a muffled voice.

“Don, can we get back to why Buck released you?” Jim asked after a few moments.

“I have an alibi for the time Stella was killed.” An unhappy Don looked up. “I didn't want to tell him, but I finally had to. I was with a woman. A married woman.” He rubbed his forehead. “And I call myself a Christian.”

Don downed his beer, stood, and stumped toward the exit with slumped shoulders. Georgia hurried toward him and touched his sleeve. After she spoke, Don shook his head and walked out the door. Georgia watched him go with the saddest expression on her face.

Jim squeezed my hand. “So you talked with your father?”

“I did. For the first time in my life.” I squeezed back. “He said, among other things, that Don hit him on the head and then pushed him into the quarry, with Stella standing right there.”

“Incredible.”

“But I'll fill you in later on the details, okay? I need to be on duty here, especially since Danna left.”

“Sure.”

I wandered around, picking up discarded plates and cups, removing beer bottles from the trash and setting them aside to recycle. I moved past Phil and Abe, where they stood with a couple of other men.

“How do you know the toothbrush was invented in Kentucky?” Abe said. He grinned at me.

I stopped my cleanup, smiling at the state pastime of bashing the state to the south, and waited for the punch line.

“If it was invented anywhere else, it would have been called a teethbrush,” Phil answered. “Did you hear the governor's mansion in Kentucky burned down?”

“Almost done took out the whole trailer park,” one of the other men said, then guffawed.

“You guys are hot,” I said. “I shouldn't, but what about this one? What are the best four years of a Kentucky Wildcat's life?”

“Third grade.” Abe threw back his head and joined the others in laughter.

A uniformed Buck walked in. I waved at him, excused myself from the jokesters, and headed his way.

“Just the person I wanted to talk to,” he said when we met in the middle of the room. “Heared about your intruder.” He shook his head in exasperation.

“It was pretty freaky, finding him in my closet like that. At least he didn't seem to be armed.”

“Actually, he was carrying concealed.”

“Good thing he didn't shoot me.” I dumped the trash I'd been holding on the nearest table and dusted off my hands. “It's just crazy this state even allows regular people to carry guns like that.”

“That's the way of it. Folks'd get all riled up if you told them they couldn't defend themselves. But Roy has never been quite all there, you know.”

“All the more reason he shouldn't be owning guns. Are you still holding him?”

“Had to let him go on bail.”

“He'd better not come back here,” I said. “Say, can you sit down for a minute? I want to tell you about a piece of the puzzle.”

Buck looked wistfully at the food table.

“Go clean it out.” I laughed. “I'll be right here.”

In a minute he was back and chowing down on a few buffalo wings, the last turkey slider, all three of the remaining brownies, and a bottle of tea.

“Have you checked Stella's bank accounts?” I asked.

With his mouth full, he shook his head. “Need a warrant for that,” he mumbled through his dinner.

“Roy said his mother was blackmailing Corrine. Don told us a few minutes ago she was blackmailing him, too.”

He swallowed. “Interesting. Kept Don in for almost twenty-four hours and he never telled us that. Just kept saying he didn't kill her, and he had a alibi. It was like coughing up nails when he finally said he'd been with Georgia LaRue later on.”

“Georgia from the library?”

“Right.”

“All he told me was she was a married woman,” I said.

“In name only.” Buck snorted. “Her husband's older and has dementia.” He tapped his temple, leaving a trace of buffalo sauce behind. “Lives in a nursing home. She's married, all right. But these days, only an overly moral guy like Don would think spending private time with her would present a problem. Anywho, I can check with the bank tomorrow after I get the warrant. Not invading Stella's privacy, seeing as how she's dead and all.”

“I know why Stella was blackmailing Don.”

Buck narrowed his eyes even as he bit off half the turkey slider and chewed as slowly as he talked.

I swallowed and looked around the restaurant. The numbers were dwindling. Jim leaned against a wall across the room and talked with Turner, who finally held a beer. Corrine sat at a table with Adele and Samuel and was laughing at something Samuel said. Phil and Georgia sat together on the piano bench, playing a four-handed tune, with Abe looking on.

“And?” Buck asked. “You going to tell me sometime in this decade?”

I gazed at him and told him the whole story. Of searching for news about my mom. Seeing her in the picture with Don and a man I resembled. Finding the news article about the quarry accident, and then the hospital records showing Stella called in the accident.

“Huh,” Buck said. “I remember my pop talking about that Eye-talian's accident. I was ten or so. He musta wanted to warn me off swimming in the quarries. How does all that relate to blackmail, though?”

“It wasn't an accident.” I watched as his eyes popped. “I tracked Roberto down in Italy. Just spoke to him this afternoon, in fact. He said Don whacked him upside the head and then pushed him in.”

“Now, why in God's green earth would Don O'Neill act all violent like that?”

“He was jealous. Don was in love with my mom, but she'd left him for this handsome foreigner who'd swept into town. Who happens to be my father.”

Buck whistled. He leaned in to peer at me. “It's true, you don't look much like the average Hoosier with all your dark hair and eyes.”

Phil and Georgia finished a tune with a flourish to the applause of several people gathered around them.

“Not all Hoosiers are blond, you know,” I said, pointing my chin in the direction of Phil and Samuel, who sat not far from him.

“I know, I know. Can we get back to the story?”

“Well, that's about it. Don, Stella, and Roberto were at the Empire Quarry. Don hit Roberto, pushed him in, and then jumped in himself, claiming it was to rescue Roberto. Stella saw the whole thing. Apparently, she'd been threatening to tell Don's secret ever since.” I tapped the table with one finger.

“So that's what he wouldn't tell me. He kept saying he had business with Stella, and that he left her alive and well.”

“If he's not the murderer, do you have any other suspects?”

Buck let out the longest sigh I'd ever heard. “Wanda told me what you overheard. I guess we'll be getting Ed in for questioning tomorrow.” He cocked his head. “What did you say before . . . that Roy said Stella was blackmailing . . .” He glanced around the room until he spotted Corrine. When he spoke again, it was almost in a whisper. “Our fair mayor?”

“He sure did. Said she'd killed her husband.”

“Thought that was a hunting accident.”

“That's what Samuel MacDonald told me,” I said. “But Adele said there was talk at the time that it wasn't an accident, after all. And she was never charged.”

He whistled. “Guess I'd better be checking into her alibi for the approximate time of death.”