It was odd how the heart had worked within her, waiting until she was nearer sixty than fifty, then getting all soft around the edges for an old boy who seemed to be someone she had known all her life. She hadn’t realized how lonely her life was until Bill. They talked about the miles between them, all the way from Pennsylvania to Texas, and so far, there was no solution for either of them. He had grandchildren close-by, and his children were there too. What a conundrum. But my goodness, sometimes she sure missed his face.
Someone was knocking on Joe’s door and it was pissing him off, his head ached across the temples and mid-forehead where eyeballs extruded from his brain, or so it felt that morning after a multitude of beers the night before. The smell of coffee wafted under the cheap door into the room, reviving the heap that had once been a good detective.
“Coming Maude,” he croaked, wrapping the sheet around his naked frame, hopping to the door on the way to the bathroom. “Be right back.”
Even though there were times Maude seemed to mother him a little too much, there were these emergency ministrations of coffee and food that made it all worthwhile. After emptying a full bladder and filling the air with the foul odors of old beer and strong urine, Joe washed up and quickly closed the bathroom door behind him, anxious for the hot coffee. When he first went to work alongside Maude, he didn’t understand the benefits of a good cup, but since that time she had made him aware of the necessity for strong, fresh brew. She always remembered to add some milk and sugar for him, an add-on that pleased him immensely.
“We have a lot to do today, partner. I told Ernest we would pick him up if the Sheriff okayed it, and head out to that resort. There’s been some goings on there that we have to get straightened out, so drink up, and first we’ll head to that Denny’s for breakfast. Think you can eat?”
“Maybe” Joe said, finally coming alive, shaking the headache. “Wow, I drank a lot of beer last night. Danced a lot too. You should have stayed. A fellow looked a little like Bill Page came in about midnight. Least he did to me.”
“I suspect that girl you were dancing with could have looked like Bill Page or his sister to you about that time. How did you get back?”
“Caught a taxi. Cost an arm and a leg, but I didn’t want anyone I was drinking with to drive me home. So it was worth it. Don’t remember coming in the door, just remember sleeping with my clothes on till about three in the morning when I got up and pulled my boots and jeans off.”
“Be still my heart.” Maude said. “You must have been a tempting morsel, drooling at the mouth, hair in your eyes, no boots or jeans on, smelling of sour beer. What girl wouldn’t swoon.”
Joe ducked his head and flushed, agreeing with Maude’s assessment. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“The reason I’m right is I probably described myself except for the part about pulling my boots off. I slept in them. I’m not proud of what I’ve been doing, and need to cut back on my drinking; you know, before I get old.” After saying that, she looked sharply at Joe to see if he was smirking, but to the young man’s credit, he kept a poker face, concentrating on emptying his coffee cup.
The restaurant was crowded with the early morning trade, people headed to work and mothers getting a light breakfast after getting the kids in school for the day. The tables were mostly full, or in need of cleaning, but they managed to find one out of the way against the wall. Maude went to the bathroom while Joe stayed at the table, waiting for the waitress to bring coffee and menus.
The mirror reflected what she knew was the truth, a tall, thin woman with some age on her, ratty gray curls all over her head, and blue eyes that still worked without glasses. The black slacks she wore were without wrinkles and fit her frame well, meeting at the waist with a long sleeved white button up knit blouse with a collar. A dark blue blazer accented with black pulled it all together along with the black boots that were a part of Maude Rogers’ persona. The boots had low heels, with a walking sole made for active women.
She wished for a tube of lip color, but settled for lip gloss to coat her dry mouth with moisture. She was as ready as she was going to get. Ahead of her there would be people who would hate her on sight, and some who would feel nothing for the policewoman doing a job.
Maude believed herself to be plain. Most of the time she would readily have chosen that people see her as professional woman instead of a pretty one, but she did have some vanity.
“Well, quit dawdling and primping, you have work to do,” she said aloud, startling the woman who was leaving one of the cubicles headed to the wash basin. Maude decided not to explain, but to let the woman decide if the instruction was for her.
“Dang, Maude,” Joe said when she returned to the table, “I thought I was going to have to come in there and pull you out, maybe you fell in.” The time weary joke worked well for him, kindling the sparkle in his green eyes. “I ordered breakfast for you, a surprise.”
“Thank you Joe. This place has good breakfasts. Ernest and I came here last night, talked a while, and he ate. Glad to know you were worried about me, willing to save me.”
Joe smirked, his cheerful attitude returning after a poor start. “Here for you, partner.”
Maude’s phone pinged, a sound that alerted her to a new text message. She removed it from the inside pocket of her blazer and checked the print out. ‘Thinking of you too Maudie girl. Wish you were here or I was there. All parts working fine. Bill.’ The message brought a smile to her face, a fact that didn’t escape Joe. He knew instinctively the message came from someone she cared about, probably Bill Page. He decided to use the ammunition later, when things got slow.
“Say Maude, have you been in touch with your niece? Wonder how she’s come along since we left her?”
“Thought I would call a little later, talk to her mother first. Jean will tell me if Lilly Ann is in trouble. I told her to set up some counseling there at the university, but that girl is a great deal like her aunt. She may dig her heels in and refuse help. I really hope she shares all that with someone, but time will tell. I may have to insist, and I will, but only if necessary.”
“That would have been a frightening thing. As it is, how are we going to track her abductor? Any ideas?”
“Not really, Joe. You have any?”
“I may have. Give me a little time to work on it.”
“He was trying to get to me, but why? And why take her if he wasn’t going to follow through with some terrible catastrophe for me or for her?”
“Maude, it’s like I told you earlier. This man knows you or knows of you. Purely personal, didn’t want to prove anything more than the fact that he could throw a giant rock into your smoothly running machinery-a power play. I studied many similar responses from criminals during those years I worked the behavioral unit of CID. My guess is that he will be back to give you an even harder lesson. Someone may get hurt, or even die the next time.”
“I want Lilly Ann out of his reach, but she won’t cooperate. She’s buying a gun, and going to the firing range. Plans to get a concealed permit, maybe an open carry. Darndest thing. I hope it hasn’t turned her life around for the worse. Of course, owning a gun is not the worst response she could have, as long as there is training that comes with the weapon. I will insist on it; otherwise she’s going to have me breathing down her neck.” Maude’s face was set in determined lines, her need to protect Lilly Ann greater than her desire to be the sweet aunt.
Ernest was ready and waiting for the two detectives when they drove by the Sheriff’s Office. Ray said there was nothing going on, so he could handle things till Ernest got back or if there was a problem, Sheriff Jack had said to call Lyle to come in and work. Lyle being part-time, he liked being able to work a few more hours every now and then.
Maude asked them if Spillar was still around or had he tried to leave town. She was assured that the man was at home; his truck was parked in the garage. Ray knew because he had peeked under the door, a very unprofessional thing to do, but it was effect
ive. The garage was old like Spillar’s house, and it had a two-inch gap at the bottom when the door was closed.
Ray said Spillar’s wife had been calling in to work for the last three days, complaining of a respiratory condition. She said the whole family had it, but the deputy knew the people in the house weren’t sick. They ordered pizza late in the evening, and had it delivered through the back door.
“That’s a recipe for tragedy,” Maude broke in. “Especially with that little boy in the house. We need to get the suspect in here, and make him tell us about the killers; who they are and why they shot him. Otherwise, he may not live very long. Ray, you go back in the daylight, and try to get Spillar to tell what he knows. Make him understand that he’s putting his family at risk. I doubt if he’ll listen, but the kid deserves our best efforts, so try.”
“Yes ma’am. I will, but let me check with the Sheriff before I run off half-cocked.”
“I wouldn’t want you to do anything else. I’m headed by the house, need to check in with Jack, so wait a while before you call, or go there. Don’t want to crowd him too much. He might try to get up and run the show, which from what I hear about his condition that might just be his last time to run anything.”
Chapter 13
Jack was sitting in a chair on his closed-in porch. The sun shined through the glass windows, warming the inside of the room. He invited Maude and Joe out on the porch, and motioned for Ernest to drag up some more chairs.
It didn’t take long to bring the sheriff up to date on the news since there was so little of it. Maude felt she was letting him down. He quickly assured her that no, that wasn’t the truth of the matter. Professionals were harder to catch, but when they bit on the hook, they got caught just as tight as the amateur who made a dozen mistakes during a crime spree.
When Maude mentioned the resort and the reasons for the trip, Jack nodded that he agreed with them, and said that there was something mighty screwy about the victim’s room. He knew the maintenance man on the resort property was a short timer; his job had begun in July after the last fellow in his job moved on to another company. Jack said he had met the new man and found him to be very reticent to talk about his previous addresses.
Leaving Jack’s house, the three law officers loaded in the Rhodes County vehicle, and Ernest drove to Edwards Paradise. The manager, Phillip Pettigrew, a tall man with a large belly, greeted them at the front desk with a questioning expression on his face.
“I thought you folks were through here,” he said. “How do you expect me to rent the place if the guests see cops at every turn?”
“Sorry for the trouble, Mr. Pettigrew, but we’re investigating a murder,” Joe said. “We may be here several times. If your clientele are concerned, tell them you pay taxes, and get good police response.” Joe was eyeing the cleaning woman who came down in the elevator. “We need a list of all your employees, and their phone numbers.”
“I gave that same list to another deputy already.”
“Good,” Joe said, “It should still be handy.”
Pettigrew nodded, but it was obvious he felt put-out. Joe thought he would go ahead and drop the bomb. “We will be investigating some of your staff for theft, maybe even worse.”
There were two maintenance workers, the supervisor and the flunky. Of course that wasn’t the assistant’s job title, but Joe knew how stuff rolled downhill. Lowest man got the crappy duty. It was a way of life that carried into business. The maintenance supervisor was a fat man who had trouble bending over. He huffed and puffed with each step. Joe considered asking him if he was okay, if he was having chest pains. His name was Hector Brown, and he had been employed at the resort for five years. He seemed to be on good terms with the rest of the staff, even grumpy Mr. Pettigrew smiled back at the fat man’s greeting before speaking.
“Hector, these are law enforcement officers working that homicide case, you know the two people we had in room 409? Please answer their questions quickly and get back to work.”
“Yes sir,” Hector said, “I already talked to one deputy, but whatever you say. You folks want to come in the office?”
With a nod at Pettigrew, the trio left the resort desk and followed Hector, noting how he managed to be light on his feet even carrying all of his bulk. Huffing and puffing, he took them by elevator to the basement and continued on until they reached a door at the end of the corridor. Pulling a key from his pocket, he opened the door and waited until all three officers entered and were standing before his desk.
“I don’t have but two chairs,” he said. “Sorry, no room to put more in here. As you can see,” he said, between huffs, “we have a small office. Next door is the tool room where we keep furniture and fixtures as well as parts for toilets and doors, the most abused items in this business.”
Joe insisted on standing, but Maude seated herself across from Hector Brown and began to talk.
“Were you working Thursday through Monday of last week?” She asked. He replied that he took the weekends off, so he wasn’t on the job Saturday and Sunday. He said his helper was on duty for the weekend, as well as for part of the week-day schedule. He was on call, but didn’t have to be at the facility on a 24 hour shift.
“This fellow,” Maude interjected, “your helper, what’s his name?”
“Ma’am, he has a funny name. Hard for me to pronounce, so I call him Bud. Real name is spelled Wo-jo-hoitz. First name is Theopoles.”
“So, Bud is a new employee that you supervise. Is that right?”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied, eyeing her intently. “Do you think he had anything to do with all this?”
“We’re questioning all the employees about their work schedule during the time the victims were in residence. Don’t be alarmed.” Maude didn’t think Brown was feeling alarm at all; she thought his reaction had more to do with self-preservation. “Back to Bud--how long have you known him, Mr. Brown?”
“About four months, since he came to work here. Never saw him before he showed up ready to go to work. Pettigrew hired him on the spot when he came looking for a job. We had just lost a man in this section, and I was pretty desperate.”
“Is he a good worker?” This from Joe. “Does he come to work all the time?”
“Oh yeah, he comes in when I tell him to be here.”
“Friends?”
“Just one. A cleaning girl, Perla Suarez. She doesn’t speak much English, but a good worker. Came here about the same time as Bud.”
“Was Perla working the same days as Bud?”
“Matter of fact, she did that weekend. Why? Do you think they have done something?”
“Just need to know. Can you bring them in here, one at a time? Then you can leave.”
“Good thing. I have some work to do on the second floor.” Hector Brown struggled so hard to walk the corridors Maude couldn’t imagine him actually doing physical work. “Okay. Be careful.”
The first of the employees to come through the door was Perla Suarez. She appeared frightened, wringing her hands. Maude indicated that she should sit down. The woman was young with dark hair, good skin, and soft brown eyes. Those eyes kept darting back and forth between Maude and the exit door of the room.
“My name is Maude Rogers. I am a homicide detective. The people who stayed in room 409 were murdered, and I am going to find out who did it. Perla, what did you do with Jenny Marx’s property?”
Perla became agitated, shaking her head back and forth in denial of the accusation. She managed to look very guilty, keeping her head low, refusing to look at Maude. “No, Perla is a good worker. Perla has madre y padre in Mexico. Send money.”
“Yes, Perla, I understand, Jenny Marx was about your size, and I figure you saw her nice clothes and decided to take them from the room.”
The woman started crying great tears of remorse that rolled down her cheeks. “He say I can have dresses and earrings. He say no one cares.” She started the water works again with loud wailing, the sounds of a woman losing ever
ything.
“What did you take, Perla? Where is it?”
“In locker. Come, I show you,” she said eagerly, wanting to rid herself of the offensive items.
“Perla. Who was the man who told you to take the things from the room?”
The woman started to cry again and began trembling. “My friend,” she whispered. “My friend, Bud.”
“Ernest, you think you could go with Perla and get the items she took from Jenny Marx’s room?”
“I believe I can do that.” Ernest replied.
“Joe,” Maude said, “Will you bring that fellow Theopoles Wojohoitz in here. We’ll call him Bud to make it simple. And Joe, use caution with this man.”
“Okay, Maude. Will do.”
The assistant entered the room reluctantly, dragging his heels, a sullen expression on his face. He didn’t seem afraid, mostly pissed off. Maude sat still, waiting to see if he was going to try any kind of violence. He could be the murderer for all they knew. In fact, it was likely he killed Aaron Dennis and Jenny Marx with the idea of robbing them, and taking the doctor’s car.
“Joe, you want to start this?”
Realizing that Maude was showing her trust in him, Joe nodded and turned on the audio of his phone. “What is your name?” He asked. The man said nothing. Once again, “We’re police officers, please identify yourself.” Still, Bud refused to answer and bit his lip as he searched the ceiling with frantic eyes.
“Why did you kill Aaron Dennis and Jenny Marx?”
The man opened his eyes wide, his expression changing. “No. I didn’t kill nobody.”
“Well at least you can talk,” Joe said. “Now, tell me about robbing the two murder victims. We know you planned it, the girl told us it was your idea.”
“Yeah, well maybe I took some of their clothes and credit cards, but I didn’t kill nobody.”
“Mr. Wojohoitz, you showed up here in July. Where were you before that?”
The man was silent again, but Joe had already seen how to get a response from him. “What prison were you in before you came here looking for work?”
The Maude Rogers Murder Collection Page 41