by B R Snow
“Yes, he was,” I said, focusing on Jolene. “For whatever reason, whoever killed your dad decided to put his body in a very shallow grave. I guess that made it easier for the dog to find him.” I looked over at Carl. “If they had bothered to dig a normal grave, he’d probably still be in the ground.”
“Yeah, probably,” Jolene said to no one in particular.
“So, I guess we need to thank the dog and the killers.”
“Thank the killers?” Jolene said, having a lot of trouble processing that idea.
“Yes,” I said. “Thank them for either being lazy or incredibly stupid.”
“Maybe a bit of both,” Chief Abrams said, shrugging.
“Or a whole lot of both,” I said, flashing Carl a big grin. “But the dog is the real hero here.”
“I hated that dog,” Jolene whispered, then her face flushed with embarrassment. “I mean, the dog was crazier than my old man.” She coughed and scratched before continuing. “But that’s just based on what he told me. Always running around and jumping for no reason. Like the dog wanted to be somewhere else, and that was his way of letting you know. Weird, you know? At least, that’s what my father told me.”
“I see. And when did he tell you that?” Chief Abrams said, picking up his pen.
“Uh, a long time ago?” Jolene said.
“Okay, got it,” Chief Abrams said, scribbling down a note. “A long time ago, question mark.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Carl blurted. “Why would talking to us help you figure out who killed Jolene’s father? We didn’t even know he was around.”
“You didn’t?” Chief Abrams said, frowning as he flipped back and forth through the pages in his notebook. “Well, how about that? Now, where on earth did I get the idea you did?” He put the notebook down and rubbed his temples. “Maybe my wife is right. Maybe I am getting senile. Well, if you aren’t here to talk about the murder, why are you here?”
“The money,” Carl said.
“Oh, the money, of course,” Chief Abrams said. “The mysterious hundred thousand.”
“Do you have it?” Carl said.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s around here somewhere,” Chief Abrams said, opening desk drawers one at a time. “Now, where the heck did I put it?”
Jolene’s scratching was approaching fever pitch, and I realized that both of them had refrained from getting high before the meeting. But it was getting clearer by the minute that Jolene was starting to regret that decision.
“Are you okay?” I said.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jolene said. “It’s just mosquito bites. Those things love me.”
“You must have the good stuff.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You wouldn’t know anybody with the initials TN, would you?” Chief Abrams said.
“No,” Carl said. “It doesn’t ring a bell. And since nobody knows who this guy is, or I guess it could be a woman, wouldn’t the money go to Jolene as the rightful heir?”
“I suppose,” Chief Abrams said. “At least it would probably stay in the family. Whatever way Jolene and her brother decide to divide it up would be their call. But I guess that can wait until you actually get your hands on the money, right?”
“Sure, my brother. He can wait.” Jolene nodded to herself then focused on Chief Abrams with a confused stare. “So, when can we get the money?”
“Well, you see, that’s a bit hard to say at the moment,” Chief Abrams said, leaning back in his chair.
“It seems easy enough,” Carl said, shrugging. “You hand the envelope over, and we take it.”
“Good one,” Chief Abrams said, chuckling. “That’s funny. No, what I meant to say, Carl, is that, as long as the murder remains an open case, that money is considered evidence. If the case ever goes to trial, the lawyers are gonna need to have it available.”
“That’s because lawyers are so expensive, right?” Jolene said.
“Well, yes, I’m sure they are, Jolene,” Chief Abrams said, turning paternal for a brief moment. “But I was referring to the fact that the money is evidence that would be introduced at the trial.”
“Oh, got it,” she said with a look on her face that told us she didn’t get it at all.
“As such, I’m afraid the money is temporarily on hold. I’m sure you understand.”
“So, you’re saying we can’t get the money today?” Carl said, also beginning to scratch his shirtsleeve.
“Gee, I thought I made my point clear, but maybe not,” Chief Abrams said, frowning as he looked over at me. “Wasn’t I being clear?”
“No, I got it,” I said, nodding. “Loud and clear. An unsolved murder, no money. Solved murder, a hundred grand in the hand.”
“Thanks. That’s a relief,” Chief Abrams said. “If I hadn’t been clear, I would have needed to get a checkup just to make sure I wasn’t losing it.”
“Yeah, nobody wants that to happen,” Carl said. “So, you need to find out who killed Jolene’s father first?”
“There you go,” Chief Abrams said, nodding. “Yeah, it’s not my favorite way to spend my time, but crap like that sort of comes with the job. Are you sure you don’t have any information that might help me do that?”
Chief Abram’s sudden transition, caught Carl off guard and he flinched, then began scratching his arm.
“Do you, Carl?” the Chief said, softly.
“I’m thinking.”
While Carl considered his options, I decided to head down a different path.
“How was work last night?” I said to Jolene.
“What?”
“Work. You told Chief Abrams you worked nights.”
“I did?”
“No, that was me,” Carl said, glancing around with a forced smile. “Yeah, we work nights.”
“What do you do?” I said, casually.
“Huh?”
“Who do you work for?”
“Uh, what do we do? Who do we work for? Let’s see. Oh, we work for…a friend of ours who owns a landscaping business,” Carl said.
“You do landscaping?” I said.
“Yes.”
“At night?”
I sat back in my chair and snuck a peek at Chief Abrams who was biting down hard on his lip. Jolene and Carl glanced back and forth at each other, then Carl sat up in his chair. Apparently, a neuron had fired.
“We work in the warehouse and help get all the trucks ready for the next day,” he said.
Not a bad effort, I decided.
“I see,” I said. “So, you don’t do any night landscaping?”
“Nah, not in the dark,” Carl said.
“But it probably would be a lot cooler at night,” Jolene said, scratching hard enough to make Captain and Chloe proud.
“You’re probably right, Jolene,” I said, momentarily feeling sorry for her. Then I remembered she was a lying junkie who’d almost starved her dog to death and my sympathy evaporated.
“It looks like we’re done here, so I guess we should go,” Carl said.
“Yes, let’s go,” Jolene said, almost bolting for the door.
“Thanks for dropping by,” Chief Abrams said. “And I wish I had better news for you. But I’ll be in touch if anything changes.”
“Uh, thanks,” Carl said, standing up and giving me one final death stare.
“I’ll catch you guys later,” I said, giving them a finger wave.
They almost ran to the door and disappeared in a flash.
“What a waste of two lives,” Chief Abrams said. “You think they’ll get out of the parking lot before they top off the tank?”
“I doubt if they’ll make it to the car.”
“Landscaping, huh?” he said, laughing.
“Yeah, it looks like he made a good career choice.”
“How’s that?”
“He seems really good at digging holes for himself,” I said.
“Yeah. And I think we’re about to find out how bad he is at getting out
of them.”
Chapter 20
With me behind the wheel, we crossed the Thousand Islands Bridge, chatted briefly with the agent we both knew who was working the line at Canadian Immigration, then headed west on Highway 401. Twenty minutes later, we arrived in Kingston, a city of over 100,000 that had been built at the confluence of Lake Ontario, the Rideau Canal and the St. Lawrence River. My onboard navigation system took us into one of the older sections of the city, and I parked on the street right in front of the address. Chief Abrams glanced at the building to our immediate right and frowned.
“Don’t tell me you’re hungry already?” he said. “We just ate an hour ago.”
“No, that’s not it,” I said, also frowning. “This is the address I was given.”
“Tommy Nostril lives in a diner?”
“There must be a mistake,” I said, reaching for my phone. “Hang on.” I clicked on the stored number and waited for the call to connect. “Summerman. It’s me, Suzy.”
“Summerman Lawless?” Chief Abrams said. “Why on earth are you calling him?”
“Long story,” I said, then refocused on the call. “Yes, I’m sure you’re busy. But I need a quick word with Merlin…Hi, it’s me. Suzy Chandler…It’s nice to see your mood hasn’t improved…Right back at ya.” I glanced over at Chief Abrams. “This guy’s a real jerk…Nothing. I just said you do really good work. Look, I think you gave me the wrong address. We’re sitting in front of a diner…Okay, I’ll wait.” I glanced over at Chief Abrams. “He said he’s checking it again…Yeah, I’m here. You want me to do what?...Okay, I’ll get out of the car…Hey, how did you know I was in my car?”
I got out of the car with the phone still pressed against my ear.
“Okay, now what? Take a few steps back? If I do that, I’m liable to get run over by a car…Funny, Merlin.” But I took a few steps back into the street, glanced up, and above the awning that extended out from the diner over the sidewalk, I saw the second floor. “Oh, I get it. There’s another floor. Probably apartments…Funny. You know, I really don’t like you. Yeah, I know, get in line. I’ll do that. Thanks.”
I put my phone away and gestured for Chief Abrams to join me on the sidewalk.
“There are apartments on the second floor,” I said. “What do you think?”
“Well, it is almost lunchtime. And since he lives right upstairs, I imagine the guy eats there from time to time. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“I suppose I could force down a snack,” I said, following him into the diner.
It was an old-time diner, and the smell of burgers and onions on the grill was unmistakable. We hung back near the door and glanced around. In a booth near the back of the diner, a solitary man with a nervous twitch was sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. By and large, he was nondescript except for one defining characteristic. He had a huge nose that looked like it had been broken several times, and he kept wiping it with one tissue after another. It appeared he was suffering from a case of terminal post-nasal drip, and I glanced over at Chief Abrams who was already zeroed in on the sniffling man.
“Let’s grab that booth in the back,” he said, nodding at the one next to the man we both assumed was Tommy Nostril.
I followed him across the diner and slid into the booth. We quickly scanned the menu, and our waitress arrived to take our order. Chief Abrams settled for coffee and a slice of pie. I ordered a cheeseburger and fries. I’d decide later on the pie. He shook his head at me.
“Where do you put it?” he said.
“In my mouth,” I said, shrugging. “After that, it usually shows up in all the usual spots. I wish it followed my directions, but it seems to have a mind of its own.”
He laughed and put both menus back in the holder sitting next to the condiments. He glanced at me and gestured for me to start.
“Dear,” I said, loud enough to be heard in the booth next to us. “Did you happen to see the article in the paper this morning?”
Chief Abrams frowned. I don’t think he expected me to open with that question. Or maybe it was the dear that caught him by surprise.
“I don’t think so, dear. You know I’ve stopped reading the newspaper. All the news is so depressing. Which article are you talking about?”
“The one about the man they found buried in the woods. In some town called Clay Bay. Do you know where that is?”
We listened closely. I heard the sound of a coffee cup being set down.
“No, I don’t. But there must be a lot of small towns around the area,” Chief Abrams said. “Which paper did you read it in?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It might be the local paper here, but I can’t remember.”
“Well, you only read about a dozen newspapers a day,” Chief Abrams said. “It must be hard to keep track of where you’ve read things.”
“I like to stay current, dear.”
We fell silent and soon heard the sound of newspaper pages being turned in the adjacent booth. Chief Abrams tucked a finger inside his cheek and tugged it. I nodded; the fish had definitely hit the hook. I made a motion like I was reeling in a fish, and he nodded.
“Anyway,” I said. “They found this poor man buried in a shallow grave. Apparently, he died from a massive overdose.”
“Tragic. I hate hearing about things like that. That’s why I stopped reading the paper.”
“Well, maybe you should start again. Anything to get you off your butt and away from that television. I swear you waste more time in front of that thing.”
“Hey,” Chief Abrams whispered. “Lighten up. You’re starting to sound like my wife.”
“Good, huh?” I whispered with a grin as I leaned forward. Then I sat back and continued. “But the really interesting thing was the fact that the police found an envelope next to the body that was filled with money.”
The sound of pages being turned in the next booth stopped, and I paused for effect.
“That is interesting,” Chief Abrams said. “How much money did they find?”
“A hundred thousand dollars.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of money.”
“It certainly is.”
“Do the police know who the money belongs to?”
“That’s the really interesting part. Apparently, the only thing written on the envelope were some initials,” I said, my voice rising a notch.
“Initials? Did the article mention what they were?”
“Yes, it did. T. N.”
“TN, huh? That’s not much to go on,” Chief Abrams said.
“Maybe the police are trying to be clever and see if anybody shows up to claim it.”
“A hundred thousand in cash? I doubt very much if that money was acquired legally. Who’d be dumb enough to show up at a police station and try to claim it?”
“You’re probably right, dear,” I said. “But if I were this man, TN, I’d certainly want to know how a hundred thousand of my money ended up next to a dead guy.”
“Yes, so would I.”
We sat back in the booth as the waitress arrived with our food. She set our plates in front of us and was about to walk away when we heard a voice coming from the booth next to us.
“Check, please.”
Chapter 21
At our insistence, Chef Claire had started taking one night off a week, even during the height of the restaurant’s busy season. Our nagging had eventually worn her down, and she had agreed that Monday, as the slowest night of the week, was the best option. And that was how Mondays became family dinner night at the house. But Chef Claire was banned from the kitchen the entire evening, leaving the cooking to Josie and me. I was flying solo in the kitchen tonight, and Josie and Chef Claire were in the living room with my mom, a regular on Monday night, and Chief Abrams, whose wife was out of town visiting their grandkids.
I removed the bubbling tray of lasagna from the oven and placed it on the counter to cool, then started working on the vinaigrette for the salad. But it was the smell of freshly b
aked bread filling the kitchen that put the capstone on dinner hour. I took a sip of wine, grabbed a metal whisk, then paused when I heard the approaching commotion.
“Come on, let’s go,” Josie said as she opened the kitchen door. “All of you. Outside.”
Captain, Chloe, Al and Dente, Bailey, the bloodhound we’d brought back from the Caymans, Winter and Summer, my mom’s two mixed basset hounds, and Chief Abrams’ basset hound, Wally, padded across the kitchen floor in single file with their heads down. They reluctantly headed outside to the fenced lawn that extended off the back of the house, and Josie closed the door behind them.
“It looked like they were doing a perp walk,” I said, laughing.
“For a moment, they forgot who was in charge,” she said, shaking her head.
“Well, I guess that’s understandable. We are outnumbered,” I said, removing two loaves of bread from the oven. “How does that smell?”
“Okay,” she said, glancing at the tray of lasagna.
“Just okay? Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m just not that hungry tonight,” Josie said, checking out the contents of the salad bowl.
“Not hungry? That’s lasagna with portabellas and Italian sausage,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Fresh bread and garden salad. No beets.”
“Yeah, it sounds good,” she said, sighing.
“Your appetite has been off the past several days,” I said, feigning great concern. “I’m starting to think we might need to get you to the doctor for a checkup.”
“I’m fine.”
“If you say so. Hey, are those shorts new?”
“Maybe.”
“They look comfy. Elastic waistband and nice and roomy. Good call.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
She headed back into the living room looking despondent, and I glanced through the window to check on the dogs. All eight were rolling around together on the grass, and I decided that the fresh air would do them good as well as enable us to enjoy our dinner in peace.
Then I caught a glimpse of a section of lawn that was torn up, and a light bulb went off.
I carried everything into the dining room and called everyone to the table. I motioned for Chief Abrams to sit next to me, and I waited for everyone to get settled.