The man’s eyes widened. “If there really was a gunshot, that makes sense. I used to go shooting back in the day. A silencer doesn’t really muffle the shot too much but does give it a sort of clicking sound more than a bang.”
Bert stepped eagerly forward, almost forgetting she had a pie in her arms. “Then you were here when it happened?”
“So, somebody was shot?” he expelled, looking a tad pale in the cheeks.
“That’s right. A member of our congregation was murdered in the basement.”
“That’s horrible,” he noted, the whiteness of his face going green.
“Yes, I know.” She stole a quick glance at the man’s back porch, elevated so it could see over the fence between the parking lot and his yard. Surely, he had seen someone going in or out. However, before Bert could ask the burning question on her mind, she noticed the camera on the back of the house. Her jaw dropped. “Do you have a home security system?” she wondered out loud, remembering that Harry was getting his own fixed.
The man glanced back. “Oh, that? Naw. I installed that last Christmas when my gift packages kept getting stolen. I used to get them delivered to my front door, but that didn’t work out. I asked the mailman to start bringing them to the back door instead, but someone still continued stealing them.” He motioned to the house. “So, I installed a camera on both sides. I caught the guy in the act, sent the footage to the police, and they caught him.”
“Does your camera look into this parking lot at all?” she wondered.
He blinked a few times, trying to remember. “Why, yes, I think it does.” His mouth turned into an O shape and he gasped as he realized where she might be going with this. “You think I might have caught the killer on camera? Oh, my goodness, this is exciting isn’t it,” he said, wringing his hands together.
“Yes, yes. We have to send any footage from that day directly to the police.”
“Well, the computer program I use for the camera is attached and set up to e-mail my footage to the police when I ask it to,” he spoke fast and excitedly, hardly able to get the words out.
“Yes. You see, right now a friend of mine is in jail.” Calling Gracie was a friend was stretching the truth, but it was easier than explaining now. “I don’t think she did it, but the police do. Your security footage might be just what we need to clear her name and pin down the real murderer.”
“You think?” he said, rubbing his hands together.
“I sure hope so.”
“Well, I’ll get right on it. I can send over the entire day’s worth of footage with one click. It’s really easy.” He turned to go, but Bert called after him.
“Oh, wait. Did you happen to see anyone here around that time? Any cars parked in the parking lot?”
He paused, thinking. “Well, I’m not one to recognize little details like that usually.”
Bert sighed. “I understand.”
“Hold on. I do remember one car. It’s hard to forget that one.”
“Which one?”
He looked around the lot at the current cars belonging to choir members parked there. “That one,” he said, pointing to Janie’s bright pink sports car.
Chapter Fourteen
Bert instructed the man to send the footage to the police and then call Detective Harry Mannor with the information concerning his own eyewitness of the pink car. If he reported all the information of his own accord, she was less likely to get in trouble with Harry for continuing to snoop when she’d promised not to.
Of course, she couldn’t see how she’d get in trouble considering the neighbor had come to her. She hadn’t gone knocking on doors or anything.
Still, she was mad at herself for not remembering the backyard camera earlier. She remembered seeing it the other day. Harry’s talk about home security should have reminded her. Bert felt like her brain was muddled down in all the holiday chaos.
In any case, if this new information could help clear Gracie, then Bert could feel content that she’d kept her word to the elderly woman.
However, there was something new to trouble her. Janie’s car. Janie could have easily carpooled to the café down the road for coffee. Her car being in the lot didn’t indicate that she was a murderer.
More than that, Bert couldn’t think of a single motive for the murder. As far as she knew Janie and Shay were barely acquaintances.
Sighing, she decided it was best not to dwell on it. Washing her hands of the whole investigation, Bert threw herself into choir practice that morning. She told herself she wouldn’t think one more thought about the case until Harry solved it himself.
Unfortunately, that promise only lasted as long as practice.
On her way back to the shop, Bert drove by the bank where Janie worked. Bert had gotten her loan there for the shop. She was a regular customer. Therefore, it wouldn’t be odd or out of the ordinary for her to stop in for a moment.
She had just one question burning on her mind.
Parking on the street and paying the meter, she went inside. “Ah, Bert. Merry Christmas,” the bank manager greeted her from his office door. He’d seen her come in and had decided to greet her.
“Merry Christmas, Jeremy.”
“What brings you into our establishment today?” he wondered.
“Actually, is Janie here yet? We just got out of choir practice and I figured she’d be coming in. I thought she and I might get coffee today.” Bert felt is she had one of her normal coffee outings with Janie, it would put her mind at ease about the case.
They hadn’t spoken at practice, not directly. Janie was a soprano and therefore in the back row.
“She isn’t coming in today,” he answered.
“She’s not?”
He folded his arms, leaning on the doorframe. “As a matter of fact, she cut her hours back significantly a couple months ago.”
“She did?” Bert exclaimed, shocked to hear this news. Her mind instantly thought of the sporty pink car and the expensive handbag and shoes she’d seen Janie wearing recently. Surely a position at the bank didn’t pay enough for such extravagances, especially not if she were working part-time.
“Don’t ask me. She simply asked for cut hours. I tried to convince her otherwise, but she insisted.” He threw up his hands.
“Well, thanks anyway, Jeremy,” Bert said, saying a quick goodbye and making a hasty exit.
She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and hoped Harry would figure out this whole mess soon. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t promised to butt out of the investigation.
By nightfall, Bert hadn’t heard anything from Harry, not even a request to grab coffee together. She didn’t know why she expected a call, but in her gut, she felt as if that info on the recording, as well as the neighbor’s statement, would help close this whole horrific case once and for all so they could get on with their Christmas.
However, as darkness fell over the city and all the little holiday lights illuminated the streets, Bert was feeling antsy for some sort of answers. She hoped to distract herself from worrying about the case by playing around online looking for potential last-minute Christmas gifts for her employees and for Harry.
She was having little luck (in both finding gifts and distracting herself) when she noticed an ad in the sidebar for the local Old Market movie theater. They specialized in showing old and independent films. That night they were going to show It’s a Wonderful Life, Bert’s all-time favorite Christmas movie.
Deciding that was just what she needed, Bert pulled on her wool coat and headed out into the cold.
The theater was close, only a few blocks, so she didn’t see the need to drive. As soon as she’d gotten down to the street level, she shivered. The wind was howling and the snow blowing into her hair. However, determined to get a little fresh air, she still chose to leave her car.
“It’s not that long of a walk,” she reminded herself and stepped out into the street. She was just about a block away from the theater when an all too fa
miliar pink car turned down the road ahead of her. Bert’s stomach turned over in her belly and a sour taste rose to her mouth.
Trying to ignore the car, she marched toward the theater at a quicker pace.
Unfortunately, the car pulled up to the side of the road next to her. The window rolled down and Janie stuck her head out. “Hey, Bert. Do you need a ride?” she asked with the same cheerful voice she always had. Cheerful Christmas music played on the car radio.
Instantly, Bert felt a little silly for being afraid of an old friend, no matter what the neighbor had seen.
“I’m fine, Janie. I’m just going to the theater here,” she said, pointing. She could see the marquee lights from where she was standing.
“Oh, it’s cold. Why not get in for the last bit of the way?”
“No, it’s really close. Seriously, I’m fine.”
“Bert, I can’t in my right mind let you walk out in this,” Janie argued, really pressing.
The sensation in Bert’s stomach returned. Swallowing hard, she shook her head. “Thanks anyway, Janie. Have a good night,” she said, hoping to end the conversation and be on her way.
There were couples and families gathering at the ticket box outside. A crowd of folks. If Bert could only make it as far as that, she would be safe. Without waiting for a goodbye, she turned to walk off.
“Bert,” Janie snapped. Her tone had completely changed. The sound of it became lower, gruffer. There was a frightening fury behind it. “Get in the darn car,” she ordered.
Looking down one more time, Bert saw something glimmering in Janie’s hand. For a split second, her heart stopped in her chest. It was a tiny silver gun, the kind you might see a woman carry in her clutch or purse for protection.
“J-Janie,” Bert spluttered.
Janie’s eyes were dark—impatient. “Get in the car.”
Bert obeyed, opening the passenger door and sliding into the seat.
“There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asked, a smug grin on her face.
This wasn’t the woman Bert knew at all. “Janie. What the heck do you think you’re doing?”
The car slowly began to roll down the street, but that gun stayed low, pointed at Bert. “Jeremy told me you stopped by the bank today and were asking questions.”
“H-He did?”
“Yes, ma’am. I had high hopes you wouldn’t go to your usual sleuthing ways on this case.” She grunted unhappily, shaking her head. “You can never leave good enough alone. Doesn’t that detective of a boyfriend tell you better?”
She swallowed. “He does, but I have a mind of my own.”
“I heard you chatting outside the church today as well, telling that fellow to send in that footage of me at the church that day. Sneaky, sneaky, Bert.” She waved the gun menacingly.
“You did?”
“Don’t worry about your little friend. I have him locked up safe and sound in my storage unit.”
“What?” Bert shouted.
“Although, if I leave him in there overnight without any heating or a blanket, I’m not so sure he’ll make it till morning,” she threatened, a smirk touching the corner of her lips.
“I don’t understand. Why are you doing all this?”
“My, friend. Did you really think that I only worked as a loan officer at the bank?”
Bert shifted nervously. “I did notice how you have a lot of expensive things that you probably shouldn’t be able to afford.”
“That’s right. Do you know how I made that money?”
Bert was silent.
“I make loans on the side. Under the table.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re a loan shark?”
“That’s right. I always keep my word. When people pay up, I let them go. When they don’t pay up, they pay the price.”
“You’ve done this before?” Bert practically screamed.
“Well, I don’t usually have to resort to such violence. Usually, a warning shot is all it takes, but not with Shay. She needed to pay up on some mounting gambling debts and came to me. I was happy to help until she didn’t pay me back.”
“You’re a monster.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have to be if people only paid on time. Also, I’m not the one who was stealing from the church to try and make up the payments.”
“So, I was right,” Bert whispered.
“You’ve been right about a lot of things. We’ve also been friends, which makes this a real shame.” She turned on the icy downhill grade toward the riverfront.
“You can’t do this.”
“It’s necessary, so I will.”
Just as they were about to turn off into a parking lot on the side of the water near a dock, the familiar—and all too pleasant to Bert’s ears—whoop of a police siren echoed in the air. Red and blue lights flashed behind them in the rearview mirror.
“What the?” Janie exclaimed, turning for only a brief second to look behind herself at the approaching car.
Seeing her opportunity, Bert reached out with both hands and yanked on the wheel with all her might. The car went spinning on the icy pavement, turning the cop’s lights into a blur that seemed to be all around them at once.
The gun popped, going off and Bert yelped.
Finally, a jolting screech, followed by the crunch of metal ended the maddening spin. They’d hit a lamp post. Despite being dizzy, Bert didn’t wait another single second and pushed on the door handle, jumping out and running toward the cops. “She’s got a gun,” she screamed.
In a flash, Harry and two other uniformed officers leaped out of the car and rushed the pink vehicle, guns at the ready.
Bert stood shivering while she watched the scene. A second later, one of the officers looked up from the fender bender. “She’s dead, detective. Looks like she accidentally shot herself.”
Bert let out a big sigh of relief.
“You okay?” Harry asked, walking up to her.
“Y-Yeah. Thanks for saving me.”
“I’m just glad we got here in time.”
“Me, too,” she paused, looking up into his eyes. “How did you know?”
“A neighbor to the church called me. Told me some woman in a pink sports car had abducted him and locked him in a storage unit.”
“He called you?”
“Yep, he’s afraid of being robbed, so he keeps his cell phone in a secret inner pocket of his jacket. Luckily, a hot pink car like that isn’t so hard to track down once you put out an APB.”
Bert let out a big sigh, glad both she and the man were okay.
“I’ll call an ambulance.”
Bert put up a hand. “No, no. That’s fine. I’d rather go to the movies tonight.”
“The movies?” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, I need some warm Christmas cheer right now. Not a hospital.”
Chapter Fifteen
On Christmas Eve Harry and Bert drove to the cathedral together. Harry was squeezed into the front seat, bundled up in a huge puffy coat instead of his trench for once. “You know what I still don’t understand?” he asked while he parked on the street.
“What’s that?” her voice was a bit shaky. The butterflies were dancing in her stomach about the performance, but she was excited too.
“I want to know how he got my personal cell phone number.”
“Who?” she asked coyly.
“The gentleman who gave us that incriminating video evidence.”
“Oh, that,” her voice trailed off.
Harry shook his head, chuckling. “It’s Christmas, so my present to you this year is to let that one slide.”
“Thanks,” she said, kissing him on his rough stubbly cheek.
“But come New Years, I better be hearing you make a resolution to swear off sleuthing for good,” he scolded her.
“We’ll see,” she responded.
“Oh, I also got you a little something else, as well.”
“Huh? What’s that?” she wondered, feeling a pang of guilt. She’d
completely forgotten gift shopping after her near run-in with death the week before.
Reaching deep into his coat he handed her a small flat wrapped package.
“It isn’t Christmas until tomorrow.”
“Well, my family always opened one gift on Christmas Eve, so it’s okay.”
Bert smiled, ripping at the colorful paper. Underneath was a plastic DVD case with the picture of a woman in a nineteen-sixties style space suit on it. “Oh, my goodness.”
Killer Chocolate Pecan Pie Page 8