“Damndest thing,” Blanton said, “a fellow here called us out, said someone had taken an item from his safe. A very clear diamond, several carats, worth maybe half a million. Famous stone, lot of people knew about it. He had it insured, of course, but he said it wasn’t just the money. The stone was important to him. Those two yahoos you named were in the jewelry business, and Johnson, the diamond owner, said he believed they stole it from him after finding the combination to his safe. Didn’t make sense to me why such an expensive rock would be kept in the man’s house, but people do those sorts of things. Anyway, after investigating a while, we found prints and evidence connecting Avery and Mason to the crime. Arrested both of them, but they never went to jail. Johnson called back and said there had been a mistake, he remembered someone else had been trying to buy the stone, and he, Johnson, had asked the two jewelry store men to assess the diamond’s value for insurance adjustments.”
“Which was how their prints got on the safe,” Maude said, following along.
“Right. We had to let them go, since there was nothing more to hold ’em. Never found who took the stone, but Johnson shut up. Quit calling the station, acted like he didn’t care much after that. Never made sense to us.”
“What about the fellow wanting to buy the diamond? He check out okay?”
“Never found him,” Blanton said. “If he was real, he disappeared into the smog.”
“So the diamond, did it get written off by the insurance? Did they pay?” she asked, interested in the story.
“They paid. Four hundred, eighty-nine thousand; a nice chunk of change was picked up by Johnson. Insurance investigators still around, trying to smell out the thieves, recover their property or prove fraud.” Blanton sounded as though he was chewing between sentences. Maude thanked him for the information and asked for a copy of the police report. He agreed to send it on, and added that he never believed the story. He said he sure hoped she might find out something that would be useful to Woodsboro Police Department, help them close the case.
Lying in bed that night, Maude thought over the events of the day: the open grave that had been dug in her backyard, the interview with the Avery couple, and now, the info from Detective Blanton from Woodsboro. She also noted the animal wasn’t bothering her as much anymore, but habit was strong. Ending her day with cold gin had been a nighttime ritual. Now there was nothing, except the Big Book or the book of Traditions to fall back on. She read a few passages and thought about them, applying the words to her life, wondering if the pages tasted like Gilbey’s.
The next morning was the beginning of the workweek, but it was also her seventh day sober. Wondering if she could make it through, Maude began her day with a chapter from the Big Book along with her first and second cup of sweetened coffee. She put a few peppermints in her pocket and left the house. Picking up Joe from the apartment was a habit by now, and she drove there without thinking, just honked and waited for him to come to the door. Only a minute passed and there he was, opening the car door, scooting into his seat.
“Your youth brings back memories,” Maude said, taking her foot off the brake.
“You mean my good looks and one-color hair?” he asked, speaking over his coffee.
“No, they have bottles and boxes to take care of that color. Just because I don’t use them right doesn’t mean they don’t work. What I meant was the way you jump in the car, feet first, not thinking about your joints hurting. I do recall those days.”
Joe glanced out of the corner of his eye toward her. “How you doing”?
“Sober,” she said. “A pure lunatic, but sober. Someone dug my grave this weekend.”
“What do you mean?” Joe was smiling, expecting a lesson with a moral.
“No, serious, a six-by-three hole in the backyard.” She went on to explain the horrible sound of the jackhammer and how it was set up for maximum effect.
“That SOB. We shook him up. He’s trying to scare you off. He must have forgotten the demented woman on the bicycle,” he said, recalling the way Maude caught Dawson by chasing him on a bicycle in the darkness.
Maude glanced at her partner, a grin on her face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Wonder what will be his next act?”
“Watch yourself, Maude. That’s one hyper-insane creep. No telling what he’ll have his demon buddies do.”
“Hell’s bells, bring it on is what I say. Dawson is a killer, and I believe he had all to do with this murder on the train. Just haven’t found the tie between him, and the person who did the killing. Brutal people, no doubt.”
“We’ll get them, Maude. With your determination, and my charm, we can’t lose.”
She laughed, glad to be on solid ground with Joe. “That charm in the mood for tacos or burritos for breakfast?”
Later, as they sat across from one another in the Homicide section, Maude passed over the information she had received from Detective Blanton in Woodsboro. Joe read it quickly and looked her way. “What do you think?
“Well, Joe, I think you and that marvelous charm should take a trip to see Mrs. Anna Avery for a few questions of your own. Find out what you can about the diamond theft. Maybe she’ll tell more than she means to. You know what to ask,” she said, ignoring his quiet laughter. “That girl has no business with Avery, unless it’s monkey business.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do what I can,” he said, a sudden frown passing over his face. “What about this guy, Johnson? Any intel on him?”
“Not yet. As far as I can tell, he didn’t know the other two, except for business. There may be something connecting them.”
“What about the war? Weren’t Avery and Mason in the Army together? What if Johnson was there, also? Maybe there’s a connection.”
“Good thinking, partner,” Maude said. “Darned good. Find out what you can. Meanwhile, I want to do some more searching at the train station. Maybe talk to Samuel Blevins. I think he’s off on Mondays.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll get a car from the shop. Meet you back here for lunch. How’s that. You make more money than me, so you can buy.”
“Deal. My choice where,” she said, headed to Captain Patterson’s office. “Gotta see the boss. May have to take a trip.”
“Okay,” Joe said loudly, “don’t get him riled this early.”
James Patterson’s office as captain was much bigger than the one he had used as lieutenant in the Homicide section. A window overlooking City Park was just behind the desk, and the first view to greet visitors who entered the captain’s door. The wide chair was made for a bigger man, but Patterson had kept it to remind him of how you can get too big for your britches as well as your chair. He figured if the chair ever fit him as it did the last captain, he’d gone too far. Most of the cops liked him, but a wrong move would stir up dislike, a thing that could hurt. He was careful to speak to all the officers, no matter their rank. That kept him in good with most.
Maude sauntered into the office and received a grunt from her captain. He didn’t put on any show for her, for she knew him too well. Almost as much as his wife did. Maybe in a different way, but still, she had his number.
“Good morning, Detective Rogers. How are we doing on the train murder? Any resolution yet?”
“No, sir,” she said with a shrug. “Takes time, you know.”
“Don’t take too long,” he said. “I don’t want to answer questions the press asks about why we can’t find the killer.”
“No, sir,” she repeated. “We’ll get a break soon. I know it.” Mentioning Robert Dawson was off the table. Nothing would be said about him until there was evidence to back up her statements. “Something happened at my house over the weekend. County came out, but word will spread. Someone dug a grave in my backyard and left a jackhammer running in the hole. Danged strange, but seems to be a harmless prank. Expensive, though. I intend to run it down, find out who rented the equipment. Got to be someone having a little fun at my expense.”
“Crazy. Make sure you give t
he sheriff a heads-up when you find something.”
“Will do,” she agreed, because her house was located out of the city, in county jurisdiction. “Say, boss, I may have to take a trip out to a place called Woodsboro, Michigan. Fellow there is part of an investigation in the Northside Pawnshop murder. Also, one of the suspects hasn’t been located, and he lives there. Thought I might go for a quick trip and find out what I can. Maybe wrap up this case. May not be necessary, just heads-up if it gets that way.”
Patterson looked at her for a minute then nodded. “Make it short if you go.”
“No problem, captain. I’ll do it. We’ll see what turns up.” She was already mentally figuring how far Woodsboro was from Philadelphia. No sense looking a gift horse in the mouth. It might be too far to drive, but maybe not. She hadn’t seen Bill Page for several months. Still, there was always the chance that Joe might turn up enough information to point them in another direction.
Taking a roundabout trip back to the office, Maude stepped in to thank Alice for breakfast on Sunday and for listening. Their friendship was important to both of them. Leaving the telecommunications office behind, she turned left in the hallway and ran into Eberhart. She smiled at him and said hello. He looked at her face and nodded with a slight smile.
“Good to see you, Maude. Are you well?” he asked.
“Getting that way,” she responded. “Going to take a while. Thanks again for your advice.”
“No problem,” he said. “Glad you’re better.”
If she could whistle, she would have, but lacking that, Maude hummed a little on the way to the office. There she picked up her blazer and the printouts she needed then headed toward the city car. The garage was dark at that time of day, but she could see the vehicle plainly. A shiver ran across her back at the thought of someone stalking her in the darkness, but that’s all it was, a thought. She hoped Dawson would leave things alone for a while, at least until there was more evidence against him. Meanwhile, she had a job to do and had better get started. With two murder cases to work, there was little time to worry about someone already behind bars.
Samuel Blevins lived in what the city fathers referred to as the culturally and historically gentrified portion of Madison. In other words, some old pier and beam houses had been made to look newer with plastic fences and bright trim. Amidst those, a few new concrete slabs had been poured onto small lots, and houses built to three levels, reaching for the sky. Samuel lived in one of the older homes still in its original package. When Maude had called, asking for a short visit, Samuel was more than eager to oblige. She felt sympathy for the man whose safety record had been blown to bits, and yet who had killed no one. The truth hadn’t been published while waiting for the ME to determine cause of death.
She knocked and waited a minute for it to be answered. The tall engineer opened the door and stood there, somewhat stooped as he invited her into his home, motioning toward a small living area with a love seat and two recliners. She chose the love seat and made herself comfortable. The large recliner groaned as Samuel sat down and extended his feet.
“Mr. Blevins, I met you the day of the incident, if you recall,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am, I recall real well. What a terrible day that was.” He seemed distracted as he talked, staring toward the front door and its adjacent windows. “I mean, it wasn’t as if I had never seen an accident on the rails. Too many of them have come my way, or close to it. It was seeing her lying there, and not being able to stop the train in time took me by such surprise. I’ve had a hard time sleeping since then.”
“I suspect you might,” she said. “I’m sorry to make you relive it, but I have a couple questions about the victim. Do you recall her from that morning, early?
“No, ma’am. First I saw her was after we were on the way. Made a couple of stops then went for coffee on a fifteen-minute layover in Burton. She was pretty, ma’am, and I couldn’t help but notice her,” he said, embarrassed, as though he had committed an offense. “She was sitting in the observation car, just staring off through the glass, like she was studying strong about something. You know, my people are great watchers, they can stare a hawk right out of the sky with no trouble at all. That woman seemed to be carrying a weight on her mind, kept her eyes on the glass, like she wished she could jump through it. I went on down to the food car and grabbed myself a little snack then hurried back. Don’t like to leave the works with my assistant for too long. She wasn’t in the car when I went back. Don’t know where she went. The next time I saw her was on the side of the tracks.”
Maude was contemplating someone bringing a hawk down with a stare and almost missed the last part of Samuel’s conversation. She took her mind from the soaring bird back to the train tracks and nodded for a minute.
“Did you notice anything out of place with the woman?”
“Well, ma’am, I didn’t spend but a little time, for as you know, an engineer’s job is to get the passengers safely to their destination. That woman wasn’t looking for friends; she didn’t look at all. From what I saw, she was busy with her own thoughts. It’s just a shame she had to die. Thing I can’t figure is how did she do that?”
“What’s that, Mr. Blevins?”
“How did she manage to be on my train, and die under the wheels at the same time.”
“It wasn’t the same woman, Mr. Blevins. Eve Devine died before she was put on the tracks, but the woman you saw wasn’t Eve Devine. She was an imposter.”
“Oh my,” Samuel said. “I’m awfully confused. Why would someone pretend to be a dead woman?”
“That’s what I have to find out, Mr. Blevins. It’s a conundrum, nowadays, trying to figure out which people are the bad ones, and which ones are the good ones. Sometimes they all look the same and you can take your pick. In this case, Eve Devine was a good one, and someone murdered her then set up a situation with a decoy so we would think it was the dead woman.”
“Who would do such a thing? What kind of psycho would mess with my train?” Samuel was angry now; the shame of killing the woman gone, he was seeking retribution. “Whatever I can do to help, detective, I’m ready.”
“Remember all you can about the woman you saw. We need to find her. She isn’t safe, wherever she is. The person who set all this in action won’t keep her around long once she isn’t any use to him.”
“I know she had red hair, longish, and seemed to be put together real well, seemed to be about thirty, thirty-five. Wait, I remember now, she had on that green blouse with short sleeves. I saw a tattoo on her arm. Seems I remember it being one of them Peter Pan kind of tattoos.”
“You mean a fairy, with wings?” Maude asked. “Remember colors, or was it black ink?”
“Colors, it was real pretty, kind of like a hummingbird and Peter Pan at the same time.”
Maude considered the information and wondered how it would play out once they found the woman. A badly done fairy tattoo maybe, or an even worse hummingbird, but at least it was something.
“That’s good information, Mr. Blevins. Real good. Maybe we can use it to find the woman.”
“I hope you can,” Samuel said, leaning forward in the recliner.
While Maude was interviewing Samuel Blevins, Joe sought out Anna Avery, and found her at her office, a small nook inside the Center for Change, the political office of the mayor. Joe had gone by the house, and the maid told him how to find the boss-lady after he showed his badge, and made it an official request. Driving the city car to her office reminded him of his first days working with Maude in her old car. It was beat-up and as ill-used as she had been. He laughed, remembering the first time he had ever seen her up close. She was lying on the floor, unconscious after a perp had hit her from behind. Joe remembered how mad she had been at being ambushed.
The trip to see Anna Avery was important, for he needed to ask her some questions Maude hadn’t thought of, or at least that was the reason he would give. Sometimes one detective could find out things another couldn�
�t. Maude was too savvy to let someone pull the wool over her eyes for a long period of time, and if she was really suspicious of someone, they seldom knew it until too late. Anna Avery, according to Maude, had seemed entirely too pleased with herself, enjoying the interview Maude conducted at the residence. Unknowingly, Anna had brought attention upon herself that might not have been there, had she played it a little more innocently. “Women,” he said. “How can a man understand them?”
Knocking on the door as a courtesy, Joe waited a moment then pushed inward, to find a very pretty young woman sitting behind a desk. She didn’t notice him at first as he moved toward her. Joe noticed her expression seemed disgusted, as though she had smelled something bad before he came inside the room, but the floral fragrance of her perfume belied that.
“Hello, sorry to bother you. Mrs. Avery?” he said, all in one breath.
“Yes, who are you?” she asked, removing small, rectangular glasses, her expression changing from disgust to curiosity.
“Detective Joe Allen, Homicide.” He looked around the room, noticing first the size of the small room, then, conversely, how richly it was furnished. “This your office, Mrs. Avery? It’s where your maid sent me.”
“Yes,” she said, leaning back in her chair, pushing away from the desk, crossing one knee with another. “How can I help you?”
“What kind of work you do here?”
“I am directing the next campaign. Mayor Richards will be running again. My job is to make sure he wins.”
“Does the mayor of this city really need someone with your style to win the vote?” Joe was sincere. “I assume you have a staff?”
Anna smiled at him and stood. She was his height, fully six feet in her white sandals, tall, even without the enhancement of three-inch heels. A beautiful woman who knew her power over men, she moved to his side with a graceful shifting of space. The thick smell of flowers suddenly reminded him of funerals.
The Maude Rogers Murder Collection Page 66