by Nic Saint
“According to the police his intended target would have been Franklin Harrison.”
“Name seems to ring a bell,” said Mr. Myers, nodding.
“Franklin Harrison was the man your wife was having an affair with.”
He blinked. “Okay.”
“So now the police think that Joshua wanted to get rid of him once and for all.”
Mr. Myers scooted forward and fixed Odelia with a serious look. “Do you believe he’s guilty, Miss Poole?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure.”
“Well, I am. Joshua didn’t do it. No way in hell is that man capable of murdering three people in cold blood.”
“Even if he thought he was doing it to save his best friend’s marriage?”
Mr. Myers sat back again, and shook his head. “It all seems a little extreme.”
“Just a routine question, if I may, but where were you last night, Mr. Myers? Around midnight, let’s say?”
He produced a weak smile. “Are you accusing me of going after my wife’s lover now?”
“Not at all. Just dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s.”
“Well, I was here all night, and so was my wife, by the way. We watched a movie and then went to bed. By the time I turned off the lights it was after midnight.”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
He glanced out at his two boys. “I can vouch for my wife, and she can vouch for me. Isn’t that enough?”
Chapter 19
Vesta still felt a little guilty about the role she’d played in the capture of Joshua Curtis, her granddaughter’s client.
“It just isn’t right, Scarlett,” she told her friend as the twosome rode in her daughter’s little red Peugeot Vesta liked to use. “If Odelia represents this guy that means he’s innocent. I know my granddaughter. She would never defend a killer. And if only I’d known he was her client, I’d never have told my son about him. No way.”
“You would have let that building burn to the ground?” asked Scarlett, who clearly wasn’t fully on board with this mission yet.
“Oh, I would have called 911 for sure,” said Vesta, “but I wouldn’t have mentioned seeing Joshua.”
They were on their way to Joshua’s house right now, since Vesta felt they’d gotten the guy into the soup, and now it was up to them to get him out again.
“Look, I don’t feel good about this, Vesta,” said Scarlett, “I’ll be honest with you. If we get caught…”
“If we get caught I’ll just tell those cops that we’re working under Odelia’s instructions.”
“But we’re not!”
“Technically, maybe, but in the spirit of the thing we’re fighting on her side.”
“What side? The guy is obviously guilty. You saw him come out of that building.”
“Just because the man came out of the building doesn’t mean he’s a killer,” Vesta insisted. “He could have just been there to, well…”
“To do what? Pay a house call? I didn’t even know notary clerks made house calls. But even they do, they damn well don’t make them in the middle of the night.”
“Look, I’ll admit that I don’t know what the guy was doing there. But I’m sure he had a good reason, and I’m sure in due course he’ll tell Odelia, who’ll tell us, and then I’ll prove to you that what we’re doing is right and just and—holy crap will you look at that?”
She was referring to the pileup that involved no less than two police cars and three regular cars. The police cars still had their lights a-flashing, but clearly that hadn’t done them any good.
“Probably on their way to Joshua Curtis’s house,” said Scarlett.
“Then we better make sure we get there first,” said Vesta, and stomped the accelerator practically through the floor of the aged car.
Moments later they arrived in a cul-de-sac and parked in front of a nice little house with a neat little front yard. It even had a select smattering of garden gnomes livening things up, something which would have pleased Vesta’s son-in-law to no end.
“Let’s do this,” she announced as she got out of the car.
“How are we going to get in?” asked Scarlett as she tiptoed up to the house, as if afraid someone might hear her. As usual, she was dressed in a tight miniskirt and crop top, her high heels making it a little hard for her to remain inconspicuous, as did her choice of clothes. Vesta, on the other hand, was dressed for the job: a gray tracksuit with yellow trim, and sneakers.
“I got a set of master keys,” said Vesta, as she held up the set proudly.
When Scarlett looked a little closer, she frowned and said, “That’s not a master key set. That’s a set of lock picks.”
“It was called a master key set on eBay, so that’s what it is.” She picked a small sharp instrument from the collection and inserted it into the keyhole. It looked like something a surgeon would use to poke a hole in a person. “There was an instruction manual included,” she explained as she inserted a second sharp instrument and started jiggling.
“Who was the seller? Burglars, Inc?”
“Probably,” said Vesta as she stuck her tongue out and jiggled away to her heart’s content. “The trick is in the jiggling,” she explained. “If you jiggle long enough, something has to give.”
Unfortunately nobody had relayed this information to the lock, which remained unwilling to play ball.
“Maybe we’ll have a look around the back,” she said after a while. “Before the neighbors file a report.”
So they moved around the house and found themselves in an equally neat backyard with a small porch and Vesta repeated the trick with the instruments. Finally, when she didn’t have more luck than at the front door, Scarlett said, annoyed, “Just let me try. Jiggling comes naturally to me.” But instead of taking advantage of Vesta’s master key set, she put her shoulder against the door, her hand on the handle, and gave it a hard push. Something budged, and suddenly the door swung open.
“How the hell did you do that?!” asked Vesta.
“You just need the right approach,” said Scarlett.
“That door is probably male,” said Vesta as both women pushed inside.
The house itself was as clean and neat as the outside had promised, and as Vesta took the ground floor, Scarlett moved up the stairs to check around.
“What are we looking for, exactly?” she asked as she walked off.
“Anything incriminating!” Vesta yelled after her.
“And then what?”
“Then we remove it and give it to Odelia. She’ll know what to do.”
“This is such a bad idea,” Scarlett muttered, but did as she was told and hurried up the stairs.
Vesta checked the kitchen, which was so neat it could have served as a model kitchen at a kitchen trade fair, and opened a couple of cupboards. For the occasion she’d put on plastic gloves, and for a few moments she admired the kitchen, then decided to snap a couple of pictures. She’d been trying to convince her daughter to remodel the kitchen for a while now, and this was just the kind of kitchen Vesta thought would be perfect.
She then moved into the garage, flicked on the light and looked around. Near the door, she saw four yellow metal jerrycans standing neatly in a row.
“Huh,” she said, and picked them up. “Empty,” she murmured, then shrugged, and carried them to the door to take out to the car. When you’re accused of arson it probably doesn’t look good to have four empty jerrycans in your garage, she figured.
“Vesta!” Scarlett suddenly yelled. “You gotta see this!”
Vesta stomped up the stairs, afraid there would be more dead bodies. Even she couldn’t explain away more dead bodies—or drag them to her car. But when she arrived upstairs, and followed Scarlett’s voice into what looked like the master bedroom, she saw to her elation that there was no dead body on the bed—or anywhere else, for that matter.
“What?” she said, panting from the exertion of running up those stairs.
“Will you look
at that?”
“Who’s the babe?” asked Vesta as she took in the scene. A life-size painting of a nude hung over the bed, depicting some blond babe, her naked body draped across a sofa.
“Some movie star, you think?” asked Scarlett.
“Dunno,” said Vesta, but got her phone out again and started taking pictures.
“Weird,” Scarlett said as she shook her head.
“What’s weird about it? Some guys like to stare at pictures of Babe Ruth, this guy likes to look at naked women.”
“Woman—singular. I’ll bet it’s someone he knows.”
“And I’ll bet it’s just something he picked up in a dime store. Anything else?”
“I haven’t finished yet.”
“God, you’re slow.”
“Oh? And what have you found, Miss Amateur Burglar?”
Suddenly a police siren could be heard, and both women shut up. Their eyes met.
“Let’s skedaddle,” said Vesta.
“Good idea,” Scarlett agreed.
And so they skedaddled. And not a minute too soon, for even as Scarlett pulled the back door shut, they could hear the sound of a key being inserted in the front door.
“Damn fool,” Vesta said as she and Scarlett hurried round, both carrying two jerrycans. They took a peek to see if the coast was clear. “Why did he have to give them the key?”
“Probably because he was arrested and forced to empty out his pockets?”
“You’re such a smart-ass, did you know that?” said Vesta as they hurried to the car.
“I know. That’s why you love me, right?”
“I do, sweetie,” said Vesta. “No one else would be crazy enough to do this.”
“Oh, so now you admit this was a crazy idea, huh?”
“Less talk, more skedaddling,” Vesta grunted, and shoved down the accelerator. A cop glanced back as they drove past, and held up her hand for them to pull over. But too late.
Chapter 20
We were back at Odelia’s office, with Dooley and myself lounging in one corner, Harriet and Brutus in another, and Odelia herself busy typing on her computer. She was probably working out where to go from here. She’s resourceful that way.
“So you still haven’t told me if you’re Humpty or Dumpty, Max,” Dooley said.
Brutus guffawed. “Humpty Dumpty? What are you talking about, Dooley?”
“Dolores over at the precinct called us Humpty and Dumpty, but she didn’t say who’s Dumpty and who’s Humpty and it’s driving me crazy,” Dooley confessed.
“I think you probably misunderstood,” said Brutus. “I think she was referring to you as Numpty and to Max as Dumpty, for obvious reasons.”
Harriet gave him a shove. “Brutus, don’t be mean,” she said.
“I’m not being mean. I’m just pointing out the facts.”
“You’re being a bully, and I don’t like it,” said Harriet. “So stop it already.”
“Yes, Harriet,” Brutus muttered as he placed his chin on his paws.
“So I’m Numpty and you’re Dumpty?” asked Dooley.
I just shook my head.
Suddenly Gran and Scarlett came bursting into the office, carrying what looked like four jerrycans. “Look what we found!” said Vesta with a note of triumph in her voice.
“Jerrycans?” asked Odelia, showing us she’s very perceptive.
“Bingo!” said Gran. “And guess where we found them!”
“Um… at the gas station?” said Harriet, putting her two cents in.
“At Joshua Curtis’s place,” said Scarlett.
Odelia shot up from behind her desk so fast I thought she must have had a rocket explode under her buttocks to lend her that much speed. “WHAT?!” she said.
“We went over there just now,” said Scarlett, “to remove any incriminating evidence.” She shrugged. “Don’t look at me. It wasn’t my idea.”
“You did WHAT?!” Odelia said as she took three big steps and joined her grandmother and her friend.
“He’s your client, Odelia!” said Gran. “We have to protect him against my son’s unhealthy obsession with the guy. If he’s your client, he’s innocent, you can see how that’s just basic logic, right?”
“But Gran!” said Odelia, as she took in the four jerrycans now dumped at her feet. “You found these at Joshua’s house?”
“In his garage,” said Gran. “They’re empty,” she added helpfully.
“I suggest you bring them to the police station at once,” said Odelia.
“Are you crazy? We can’t do that! It’s exactly this kind of evidence that’s going to make them convict the guy faster than you can say ‘He didn’t do it!’”
“We’re not in the business of concealing evidence, Gran. We’re in the business of finding out the truth.”
“Even if it means a jury of his peers will have a hard time not convicting him of murder?”
“Even if it means that, yes.”
“Told you,” Scarlett said. “Show her what we found in the guy’s bedroom.”
Gran took out her phone and showed something to Odelia I couldn’t see.
“Can you show us, too?” I asked therefore, and Gran happily complied. I think she would have shown these pictures to anyone, except her son maybe.
The pictures showed a very large painting of a very naked… Melanie Myers!
“Is that Mrs. Myers?” asked Dooley.
“Yeah, looks like,” I said.
“But… why isn’t she wearing any clothes?”
“Um, she was probably taking a bath,” I said.
He craned his neck to take another look. “So where’s the bath? All I see is a couch.”
“Um…”
“So who is she?” asked Scarlett. “Some movie star? Singer?”
“The wife of his best friend,” said Odelia, looking much sobered.
“The wife of his best friend?!” said Gran, and shared a meaningful look with Scarlett.
“See? Told you he was weird,” said Scarlett.
“Okay, so clearly the guy is head over heels in love with the woman,” said Gran. “But that still doesn’t mean he killed anyone!” she hastened to add.
Odelia furrowed her brow as she thought this through. “So he had four empty jerrycans of…” She took a sniff from one of the jerrycans. “… gasoline in his garage. And a nude painting of Melanie Myers hanging in his bedroom.” She heaved a deep sigh. “It’s getting harder and harder for me to convince myself he didn’t do it, you guys.”
“Yeah, looks that way to me, too,” I said.
“At any rate, you have to give these to the police. You can’t keep them.”
“I have no intention of keeping them,” said Gran. “These are for you!”
“Well, I don’t want them.”
“We can’t give them to the cops now. They’ll want to know why we took them.”
“How did you get in, by the way?”
“With my master key set.”
“Lock picking set,” Scarlett said.
“Master key set!”
“What a mess,” Odelia said, dragging her fingers through her blond mane.
“We could always put them back,” Scarlett suggested.
“And get caught? I don’t think so,” said her friend.
“Look, just come clean,” said Odelia. “Uncle Alec won’t be happy, but he won’t be too upset either. After all, you can always say…”
“Yes?”
“Well, you could say…”
“Uh-huh?”
Odelia threw up her hands. “I have no idea what you could say, but I do know you can’t keep these.”
“Like I said, I wasn’t planning on keeping them. They’re yours.”
“Oh, God.”
“The guy’s your client! You should keep them!”
“I’m not keeping those jerrycans, Gran. That’s evidence in a crime. And not just any evidence, either. This is crucial evidence!”
“Well, duh. Why do
you think I took it, dummy?”
“Gran is in big trouble now, isn’t she?” said Dooley.
“No more than usual,” I told him.
“So just tell us honestly,” said Scarlett. “Do you really believe this Joshua Curtis guy is innocent?”
Odelia shrugged. “Right now I’m not sure what to believe. I’m just trying to get a clearer picture of what’s going on here. And hopefully in the process find the truth.”
“You know who could have done it?” said Gran, wagging her finger at no one in particular. “Those neighbors.”
“What neighbors?” asked Odelia.
“The neighbors! We saw them peeking through the window, didn’t we, Scarlett? And then pretending like they hadn’t seen us.”
“I talked to Dolores today,” said Odelia thoughtfully, “and she mentioned that the neighbors have been launching a regular avalanche of complaints the last couple of months.”
“See!” said Gran. “I knew I was onto something!”
“Even a broken clock gets it right twice a day,” Brutus muttered.
“I heard that!” Gran shouted.
Chapter 21
“That tip about the neighbors was a good one, I have to give her that,” said Odelia as she steered her aged pickup through Hampton Cove, on her way to Parker Street.
“Like Brutus said, though,” Max intimated, “even a broken clock gets it right twice a day.”
“Yeah, but Dolores said much the same thing: the Dibbles really wanted those people gone. Is it too much to imagine that they might have gone to extreme lengths to get what they wanted?”
“I guess we’ll soon find out,” said Max, and she threw him a grateful smile through the rearview mirror.
Dooley and Max were in the backseat, as usual, while Brutus and Harriet had opted to head on home. They weren’t in a sleuthing mood, apparently, and Harriet had said something about a showdown at cat choir she needed to get mentally prepared for, whatever that meant.
Odelia parked her car across the road from the derelict structure, now deserted and festooned with crime scene tape, and glanced up at the house where the Dibbles lived, husband and wife. She saw the curtain move, then drop back into place. “At least they’re home,” she told her cats, who were following in her wake.