Too Dead To Dance (19 page)

I kind of liked having his
arm around me. “Yes, but I’m fine. Really”

“I see Jacobs didn’t arrest
either of you.”

I pushed him away, even
though I wanted to melt into his chest and forget about everything
else. I straightened out my sweater while I caught my breath and
noticed a tiny little spot of wine cooler I had spilled on myself.
“What’s going on? Who killed, Marty?”

“Ah, Jennifer, do you
really think I’m going to tell you anything?” He wrapped his arm
around me again and gave me a squeeze then let me go. Just before
he turned and disappeared through the station door, he winked at
me.

“Oh, girl,” Megan cooed,
“You’ve got it bad. And he is a gorgeous hunk of man, even though
he’s petite.”

“He’s not petite. Girls are
petite. He’s, well, compact. And he is a hunk. But I’m not going to
start dating him until he admits that Bernie is
innocent.”

“Dating? Do people still
date? Jennifer, what if he’s right about Bernie? She has a fierce
temper.”

“Megan! How can you even
think such a thing? I know she can get ticked off and yell a lot
but she’s never gotten physical with anyone. At least not since she
grew up. Shame on you for even thinking such a thought.”

“Okay, then shame on me.
But where was she Thursday night? What the heck was she doing at
the Fest Grounds when everyone else was leaving. The only people
left were the hard drinkers and some of the bands.” Megan was so
worked up she shook her finger at me. “I know she’s not a hard
drinker, so that leaves….”

“Meg, I know it looks
bad—”

“Wait!” She held up her
hand. “She was up to something. I know, I know she wouldn’t hurt a
fly. But she was up to something and we need to find out what that
was. If we could find her we could ask and get to the bottom of
this.”

“Well, let’s go look for
her. We can drive by her house and see if her car is there.
Then—“

“Wait a minute, Jennifer!
I’m sure the police have been to her house and the church. Where
else might she go?”

I grabbed my phone and
found Bernie’s sister’s number in my contact list. Punching the
button, I listened to it ring four times then it went to voice
mail.

“Nope, not there. Where
else would she hide out?”

“Maybe she’s not hiding.
Maybe she doesn’t know what happened and she’s just going about her
business,” Megan said.

We drove around town for a
while, checking out Chick’s Drive-in and Riverview Movie Theater.
We cruised around town for almost an hour. Finally, Megan said, “I
give up. Take me home. If we can’t find her the cops never
will.”

I dropped off Megan,
suspecting she wanted to do some sexting with Don since she
wouldn’t be seeing him between flights this week. Before she got
out of the car she turned to me and put her hand on my
arm.

“Jennifer, I have a
confession to make.”

“Oh, not more hanky-panky,
Megan. I’m not sure I want to hear about it.

“No, no. Not anything like
that. In fact, just the opposite. I didn’t sleep with Al. We just
messed around for awhile, and then I sent him home.”

“Why on earth did you tell
me you slept with him?”

“I didn’t. You just jumped
to that conclusion. It ticked me off so I decided to just let you
think whatever you wanted.”

“Oh, Megan, I’m so sorry! I
should’ve known better.”

“Yes, you should have. But
more important, what other conclusions have you jumped to? Think
about the people you’ve talked to, is there anything you may have
missed by not looking at details and just assuming
something?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think
about it. But that puts Al back on the suspect list.”

Megan shivered. “I hope it
wasn’t him. I’d hate to think I kissed a killer.”

I headed for Dottie’s Diner
to grab a bite to eat. Dottie’s is a truck stop on the corner where
Maron County Road 9 and the state highway cross at the bottom of a
hill, across the river right outside the city limits. Like the
members of the Windig Sangers, people flocked there after the bars
closed because it was the only place open that late.

I pulled into a parking
space near the front door under the blinking lights announcing
“Good Eats.” Looking around, I spotted a blue Aveo between two
SUV’s and knew I had stumbled on the one place we hadn’t thought to
look for Bernie.

I walked through the front
part of the building where the convenience store and checkout
counter were located. Past the rest rooms that also housed showers
for the truckers and on to the brightly lit diner in the back part
of the building. I hadn’t been here in years and yet, nothing had
changed. With all the craziness going on in Hermann, Dottie’s felt
like a sane, safe place to be. At least it felt that way to me as I
slipped into the back booth across from Bernie.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I
said.

Waving her hand around in a
circle over her head, Bernie said, “We haven’t been here together
in a long time.”

The waitress arrived and I
ordered a cheeseburger, fries and a Coke. After she walked away, I
realized I hadn’t even looked at the menu. I just ordered what I
had always ordered here, even though I hadn’t been here since I was
fifteen.

“You heard about Marty?” I
asked.

Bernie leaned over the
table and blew into the cup in front of her. “I can’t believe it. I
keep wondering if the person who killed her was in the house when I
was there. That’s such a scary thought. But she seemed okay, not
frightened or anything, so I think she was alone,” she said wiping
the condensation off her glasses with her index finger. “I’m trying
to remember what cars were parked on the street. I’m in trouble,
aren’t I?” She sat there eerily calm. Not at all the in-your-face
woman I had grown to love.

“I think so, Bernie. Jacobs
and Decker want to see you so they probably have a lot of
questions.”

“And I don’t have the
answers, Jennifer. I saw her and talked to her, and then I left.
She was very angry with me but she was alive.”

“Why did you go to her
house, for Pete’s sake?” I demanded.

“I thought she’d killed
Wes. I told her I would go with her to the police and stay with her
through the whole process. She cussed me out and told me to mind my
own business. Jennifer, I thought she had the money from the bank
robbery and wouldn’t give it to Wes and he got aggressive and she
was defending herself.”

“I know you were just
trying to help but, Bernie that was dangerous. If she’d killed Wes
she could’ve attacked you.”

“I suppose so. I didn’t
think of that. She called me a fool, Jennifer. I guess she was
right. What do I know about these things? I should mind my own
business. If I had arrived later, I would’ve seen who did this to
her. Or, if I had stayed longer, maybe the person who killed her
would’ve gone away. I feel so sad and guilty.”

“You have nothing to feel
guilty about. You didn’t do anything. If you had stayed longer, you
might have been hurt or killed, too. I’m starting to get ticked off
at whoever did this. He’s causing all of us a lot of problems. But
we’ll find out what did happen to her and you can count on
that.”

“How are we going to do
that?”

“I don’t know yet but you
need a good night’s sleep and so do I. Why don’t you call Jacobs
and tell him you’ll come in first thing tomorrow. You need to go
home and get some rest. You don’t want to talk to him now, you’re
too upset.”

I sat there feeling
helpless while she called Lieutenant Jacobs and was surprised when
he agreed. I guess he actually believed her explanation if he
agreed to let her go home. We walked out to the parking lot and I
wrapped my arms around her and told her to get some sleep. I would
be at her house at eight o’clock tomorrow morning to go with her to
the Sheriff’s Department.

19

Turning onto Minnesota
Street, I saw something on my front stoop. It looked like a large
bundle. When I swung the Honda into the driveway, my headlights
swept over the bundle and it began to move. It was a person. He
stood up and walked toward my car.

I locked the doors and
shifted into reverse, prepared to back out of the driveway and head
to somewhere safe. As the figure came closer, I recognized Edwin.
Opening the window, I yelled at him. “What’s the matter with you,
scaring me like that? Don’t you know there’s a killer running
around loose?”

“Jennifer, I need your
help. Marty is dead.” He burst into tears.

Good Lord, after an
excruciating day I thought would never end, Edwin expected me to
comfort him. He looked so pitiful I actually felt sorry for
him.

Shaking my head, I sighed,
resigned to the fact the day might never end.

“Come in,
Edwin.”

I pulled into the garage,
got out of the car and ushered Edwin into my kitchen, closing the
squeaking garage door behind him.

I put on the coffeepot,
selecting a hearty flavored decaf. I didn’t need to stimulate him,
just get him to calm down enough to go away. I had planned for us
to sit in the kitchen but Edwin strolled into the living room,
checking it out. I steered him toward my uncomfortable sofa,
keeping the comfy chair for myself.

“Jennie, I don’t know what
I’m going to do. I loved her so much.” Edwin put his head in his
hands, completely oblivious to the fact that what he said might
hurt me. As usual, it was all about him.

I couldn’t bring myself to
comfort him but I bit my tongue to keep from scolding him for
calling me Jennie. “The police will find out who did this, Edwin.”
His head snapped up and he shouted, “They know who did it. You
friend the nun killed my Marty. I hope she burns in
hell!”

“Bernie did not kill Marty.
Why would she do that?”

“Because that nun murdered
Wes and Marty knew it and she had to shut Marty up. And now my
Marty is gone.” He started sobbing again.

“Edwin, did Marty tell you
Bernie killed Wes?”

“Of course not, but Marty
was frightened about something and the deputies said Bernie was the
last person at my house. When I got home from Mass, I walked in and
found my Marty lying on the kitchen floor. There was so much blood.
Now she’s gone and I’ll never be able to sell my house.”

There was the Edwin I knew
and used to love. His heart is broken and his thoughts are on the
bottom line. At least I hadn’t said it out loud when I thought of
it.

“Did Marty tell you she was
afraid of someone? How did she act when she found out Wes had been
killed?”

“I don’t know, Jennifer.”
He waved me away. He cocked his head, took a deep breath and began
to answer my question. “She seemed sad at first. She cried and said
now she’d never get her share. I thought she meant he had hid some
assets from their marriage, but how could that be? He’d been in
jail when they divorced years ago. I tried to comfort her but she
pushed me away, grabbed her cell phone and marched out of the room
while punching the keys and mumbling about what she
deserved.”

I poured us some coffee and
dug out a half empty bag of Oreos that I found in my barren
cupboard. Sitting across from him I asked, “So, Marty said you and
she had a big fight and you told her to leave. What was that all
about?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,
Jennifer, don’t you start on me, too. The cops had a field day with
that. Are you the one who told them about the fight?”

“No, Edwin. I never once
considered you would kill Marty.” To myself I added—you’d just be
obnoxious, condescending or belligerent.

“I got pissed because she
took my Visa and charged almost $2000 on clothes and stuff. She
must think I’m made of money.”

“When did you and Marty
have this fight?”

“I don’t know, last night.
I didn’t mean it when I told her to get out. I was still pissed
when I left for church but after Mass, I decided I could forgive
her. I was planning to take her to lunch and letting her stay, if
she promised not to touch my Visa again. Instead, I walk in and
find her dead on my kitchen floor.” He started a fresh round of
tears.

Megan and I had left Marty
shortly after twelve. Edwin would’ve arrived home by twelve-thirty,
twelve forty-five at the latest. So, the killer came to the house
after Bernie left and before Edwin came home. That considerably
tightened up the time-line.

Someone no one saw or
noticed came into the house after Bernie left. That part of town
didn’t have alleys, so the killer had to walk around the house to
enter by the back door. The neighbors had remembered Bernie because
she wore a habit. The person who came there after Bernie must have
been in some way invisible to the people in the neighborhood.
Somehow, he got in and out unnoticed.

Around midnight Edwin
finally wound down. I thought he’d leave until he said he had
nowhere to go. “My house is a crime scene and the cops won’t let me
in. All the motels in town are full of tourists here for that
stupid Polka Daze. I don’t have anywhere to go. This is your town,
not mine.”