My experience on that rainy night when a driver attempted to run me off the road now made sense. The driver hadn’t randomly selected me to harass. He had been giving me a warning not to raise issues he didn’t want raised.
That also answered my question about Will’s mysterious accident. Putting everything together, it was hard for me now to believe Will had been injured unintentionally. Could someone have wanted Will silenced? If I could discover who it was, I might also know who murdered Victoria—the same person who wanted to silence me. The thought unnerved me, and I sank into one of the wicker chairs I’d recently added to the porch to make it more inviting.
Taking deep breaths, I managed to calm myself and entered the house, locking the door behind me. I rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the receiver of the old-fashioned wall phone. Again, I regretted my failing cell phone and the poor connectivity on the hill. I had to find a cell phone I could use anywhere, if that were possible. With trembling fingers, I dialed the number Detective Spangler had given me. When he answered, I blurted out, “You need to get here right away.” I didn’t care if it was Sunday.
Detective Spangler hadn’t given much credence to my argument Tyrone couldn’t have murdered Victoria. He described it as wishful thinking on my part. With the threatening note, Will’s accident, and the driver who had terrorized me, he would have to rethink the charges against Tyrone.
I stared at the note. An avid reader of mystery novels, I knew not to touch it and left it hanging on the front door. Whoever had placed it there might have been smart enough not to leave fingerprints, but I was still hopeful the culprit hadn’t read many mysteries and slipped up.
I paced up and down the hall, annoyed with Detective Spangler for taking forever to get there. When I became bored with the pacing, I walked into the living room, where I moved a paperweight from one table to another, then moved it back again. If the detective didn’t arrive soon, I would explode. I knew this was going to result in Tyrone being set free.
Through the window, I finally saw the tall, muscular frame of Detective Spangler walk onto the porch. I flinched seeing his red eyes, from the hair spray I’d aimed at him the previous night. When I opened the door, he studied the note and shrugged dismissively.
“I don’t know what to make of it. It could be a practical joke by someone with a sick sense of humor. Or someone wanting to make sure no one else on this road gets run over. Have you been walking there?”
“I stopped on the road once to talk to Will Parker, but other than that, I’ve only driven along it.” I pointed to the note. “Look, Detective, someone is threatening me.”
“That’s assuming the note is for you, which we don’t know since it was posted on the door of the Denton house.” His dark eyes challenged me. “And, like I said, it may not necessarily be a threat.”
“You may view me as being imaginative, but when I think of the night a driver tried to run me off the road, Will Parker’s hit and run, and now this note, it’s all pointing to me and the questions I’ve been asking to help Tyrone.”
“Someone tried to run you off the road and you didn’t think to report it to us? And what about Will Parker?” Using a pair of plastic gloves, he removed the note from the door and inserted it into a plastic evidence bag.
I described the car incident. “I admit I should have reported it. But since I couldn’t identify anything about the car or driver, what could be gained? Besides, at the time, I didn’t think it had anything to do with Victoria’s death. As for Will, he called me the night before his accident and left a message on my home phone. He said something had been nagging at him about the night of Victoria’s murder, and he wanted to tell me about it. Someone stopped him before he could talk to me. That someone doesn’t want me asking questions.”
He sighed. “You’ve been under a lot of stress since the murder, so it’s understandable you’d think these things are connected. However, there’s nothing to prove these events are anything other than coincidence. They could be totally unrelated.”
“Maybe so, but I truly believe Will wasn’t hit accidentally. Since he’s unconscious, he may never be able to identify the driver who ran him down. What if the person thinks Will might recover? Wouldn’t he want to make sure Will couldn’t identify him?” Or her? “Will needs to be protected.”
“Maybe in a TV drama.” Spangler studied me for several long seconds and then smiled. “I’ll see what we can do.”
“Do you promise?”
Spangler crossed his heart as though humoring a young child. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” I was sure relief showed on my face. “There’s another thing. When you first interviewed me, I forgot to tell you that before Victoria’s death, Cora Ridley and Victoria got into a heated argument at the house. I don’t like to—”
“We’ve already talked to Mrs. Ridley.”
“And?” I asked with a hopeful note in my voice.
“Their disagreement is nothing new. They have been arguing over their business loss for a long time. We have nothing to link her to the murder.”
My shoulders slumped. My hopes of seeing Tyrone released soon drained away.
“Stop playing Miss Marple.”
I wanted to smack him. “Meaning what?” I resented being compared to the elderly amateur sleuth and not the youthful Nancy Drew.
“Meaning that if a killer were still on the loose and you kept asking questions, you’d be endangering yourself. Fortunately for you, we have the right person locked up, even though you don’t want to accept that.” Spangler pulled keys from his pocket and strode to his unmarked police car. Being Sunday, it might have been his own car.
I dashed after him, calling from the porch. “What about Cora’s husband’s affair with Victoria? Couldn’t she have wanted revenge against Victoria for that?”
Spangler opened the car door and stood in the opening, looking at me wearily. “Just to let you know we are doing our jobs, so you don’t have to run your own investigation, we questioned Mrs. Ridley. At the time of the murder, she was with others who confirmed her presence.”
He got in the car, turned on the ignition, and rolled down his window. “By the way, how’s your aunt Mariah? I heard about you and Mrs. Webster showing up at the jail.” Grinning, he drove away.
He found out.
Detective Spangler’s car disappeared down the long drive and I collapsed into one of the wicker armchairs on the porch. My body was limp, as though all the stuffing had been pulled from me. Even the beauty of the nearby Allegheny Mountains didn’t give me pleasure.
Sitting there pondering how I would tell Mrs. Webster the pool of suspects was drying up, I watched elderly Mrs. Jankowitz and her grown son walk across the lawn toward me. Their home sat close by. Mrs. Jankowitz looked worried. Her mentally challenged son, Roy, wore a bright smile. Whatever was worrying Mrs. Jankowitz wasn’t affecting Roy, who always radiated sunshine.
Mrs. Jankowitz and her son had been among the first to arrive at Victoria’s funeral service. She was of the generation that believed if you knew the deceased you went to the funeral—whether you liked the person or not. As a result, she and her son were present at most of the funerals in town.
During the short reception after the funeral, I’d enjoyed hearing about Mrs. Jankowitz’s travels with her husband, a former State Department official. I’d been fascinated with her stories about living in exotic places like India and Singapore. She said it had been a little harder traveling after Roy had arrived later in their lives, but they had managed.
“Is everything okay, Laura?” Mrs. Jankowitz clasped her entwined hands tightly against her chest. “With Detective Spangler out here again, I got worried, especially after what happened to Victoria and to the poor man hurt on our road. You know Roy and I are here on our own.”
Looking at her drawn face, I decided not to add to her worries. “Everything is fin
e. Detective Spangler stopped by to make sure everyone here on the hill is okay. His men drive by periodically checking on us, so don’t worry.”
“Are you sure that’s all it was? I was concerned they came because of Roy.”
“Roy? Why would the police be asking about Roy?” I looked at her quizzically.
“Because of this.” Mrs. Jankowitz took a bright yellow canvas bag from Roy and handed it to me.
I looked into the bag. Inside were the coasters and several other small items I couldn’t find earlier. “These were on the patio. How did you get them?”
Mrs. Jankowitz looked worried. “I found them in Roy’s room. He didn’t steal them, honestly. It was a game he used to play with Victoria. She would hide things in the garden and let Roy search for them. It evolved from the Easter eggs hunts she used to have for him. He had such fun with her. He saw these colorful items on the patio and thought Victoria left them for him to find. He doesn’t understand she’s gone.”
She took Roy’s hand. “When I found the items, I was worried you’d missed them and called the police and that they might try to connect Roy with the murder. You won’t tell the police about this, will you?” She looked frightened. The solution to the missing items was as simple as that.
I was stunned to hear about a side of Victoria few people knew about. I smiled at Mrs. Jankowitz and hugged her. “I’m sure Victoria would have been pleased Roy found these. Don’t you worry about this.”
As they turned to walk away, I called after them. “Mrs. Jankowitz, please wait a minute. I know the police questioned you the night of the murder. Since then, have you recalled seeing anything that night, or later?” I didn’t want to say I was trying to find the real killer. Mrs. Jankowitz would only worry more.
“I wish I could help you, dear, but I don’t think I can. I’ve seen so many people coming and going up here. All my days are similar, and I’ve been so worried.” Mrs. Jankowitz took Roy’s hand to lead him away and then stopped. “One night someone walked down Victoria’s drive, but I can’t remember when it was. It could have been before she was murdered, or it could have been after. These days my memory isn’t as clear as it used to be. I’ll think about it. Something may occur to me.”
I watched from the porch until mother and son made their way back to their home. A man walking around Victoria’s property after dark. It could have been the night Victoria was murdered and the person had been the one in the house. I hadn’t wanted to put more pressure on Mrs. Jankowitz. The poor lady already had more than she could handle. I decided to talk to her in a day or so. She might have a clearer mind then and be able to pinpoint which night she had seen the lone figure.
After Victoria’s funeral, Mrs. Jankowitz had invited me to come view the items she and her husband had collected during their travels. She might be lonely, so I decided to visit her, sooner rather than later. Just like Will Parker, she might remember more than she realized. I needed to caution her not to tell anyone what she saw. It could put her and Roy in danger.
Chapter 28
Fireplaces are highly sought after by buyers. Clear away furnishings that might block them and clean and repaint the firebox. Stack fresh logs in a wood-burning fireplace.
Late in the afternoon, I visited Mrs. Webster to give her an update on what had been happening. I decided there was no sense keeping things from her. She was too intelligent to be fooled and would dig everything out of me eventually.
“Laura, dear, please be careful. When I asked you to help Tyrone, I never thought it could put you in danger.”
I was moved by the worry and fatigue showing on Mrs. Webster’s wan face. With Tyrone away, she didn’t have anyone to fuss over. Instead, she spent most of her days alone, giving her far too much time to worry about her only grandchild. Tyrone had come to live with her when he was five, following the death of his parents, and there was a special bond between them. I knew Mrs. Webster missed Tyrone terribly and wondered whether more redecorating projects or time out of the house would help.
“Come, let’s go for a drive. If you’re interested, I’ll take you up to the Denton house so you can see what Tyrone and I have done there.” Realizing what I’d suggested, I added, “That is, if you’d feel comfortable being there.”
“My Tyrone didn’t have anything to do with Victoria’s murder, and I’ve been in houses where people have died before. It won’t bother me, and it would please me to see Tyrone’s work. Besides, after the way Victoria Denton treated Tyrone, if her ghost shows up, I’ll happily give her a piece of my mind.”
It was dusk when we arrived at the house. I began switching on lights, which added a warm glow to the rooms. As we entered the living room, I pointed to the wainscoting and described how dark the room had been before Tyrone’s suggestion to paint it white. It made a world of difference.
I watched Mrs. Webster wander around the room and then stare at the high, coffered ceilings.
“All of this space for one person.” Mrs. Webster sniffed. “It’s like a museum, but you’ve done a good job making it feel comfortable.”
“Thank you.” I marveled to myself how far we’d come in transforming the room. In the dining room, I described a few touches I planned to make before completing the room.
“Tyrone picked out the prints you see hanging here,” I said as we walked down the long hall toward the kitchen. They featured early twentieth-century British and American racing yachts, and the muted colors in the prints complemented the decor. “Believe it or not, he framed pages from an old calendar.”
Just then, a loud thump sounded from above us.
We stopped talking and listened. I stood frozen, curious, and at the same time wanting to grab Mrs. Webster’s hand and run. The memory of the last time I’d heard a noise from above was all too fresh in my memory.
“Come on, girl,” Mrs. Webster grabbed my arm. “Let’s go confront Victoria’s ghost.”
I knew ghostly activity hadn’t caused the sound, but I didn’t want to stay around to discover what had. Mrs. Webster, made of sterner stuff, strode over to the staircase, intent on investigating.
Watching her climb the steps, I admired her courage and wondered why the older woman hadn’t conducted her own investigation. She had been an excellent nurse, but she might have been an even better detective. When we reached the landing and started down the hall, I tried to push Mrs. Webster behind me to protect her, if needed. Mrs. Webster would have none of it and gave me a look, requiring no interpretation. She wasn’t someone who wanted to be protected.
I put a finger to my lips to signal silence, and, side by side, we walked along the corridor toward the library, peeking into each open doorway. When we reached the library, I stared at the closed door. There was something about the library, following Victoria’s death, that always bothered me, but whatever it was lay buried deep in my subconscious and had never surfaced.
Growing impatient, Mrs. Webster turned the carved brass doorknob and pushed open the library door.
There, behind the desk and holding the purple-covered Louiston High School yearbook in his hands, stood Warren Hendricks.
“Warren,” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Looking up wide-eyed, Warren dropped the yearbook and walked toward us, flapping his hands. From the books scattered on the floor, it was obvious he had knocked them over, causing the noise we’d heard.
“Stay right where you are, young man,” Mrs. Webster said sternly. “Laura here knows karate, and she’s not afraid to use it.”
I sighed and positioned myself in what I assumed might be a karate stance.
“Please, Laura, I’m sorry. I don’t intend to harm anyone. Let me explain,” Warren pleaded.
“Sit down.” Mrs. Webster pointed to a brown leather sofa. “Laura, get one of those fireplace instruments over there.” She turned to Warren. “If you move, Laura will bop you a good one.”
Warren, all six feet of him, plopped onto the sofa, with tiny Mrs. Webster looming over him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he kept clearing his throat.
“Okay, now fess up,” Mrs. Webster demanded.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Between Nita and Mrs. Webster, who needed me? “Warren, what are you doing here?” I asked again, this time a bit calmer.
Warren stroked his graying beard nervously with both hands. “Believe me, Laura. I mean no harm. I only came to get something.”
“How did you get in?” I’d carefully locked up when I left the house earlier.
“I climbed in through a small window in the pantry. The window’s ancient and wasn’t hard to wiggle open. Though, getting through it was a bit hard.” Warren picked at a small tear on his jacket sleeve and grimaced. “I may have ruined my jacket.” A smart dresser, he looked like he regretted that more than being caught red-handed going through the Denton library.
“What were you searching for?” Mrs. Webster voice was steely cold. She wasn’t feeling any sympathy for him or his jacket.
I wondered what it had been like for Tyrone being interrogated by her when he’d gotten into trouble. No wonder he’d turned out so well. Doubtless he’d been too afraid to do otherwise.
“You better explain, or I’m calling the police.” The fireplace poker was still in my hand. Remembering Detective Spangler’s technique, I started slapping it into my left palm, hoping to intimidate him. All it did was hurt my hand and make me feel silly.
“Okay, I’ll tell you everything.” Warren held up both hands as though we were pointing a gun at him.
I rested the poker down next to my leg and stared at Warren. What a wimp. Had he always been like this?
“But before I start, I want you to know I had nothing to do with Victoria’s murder, though there were times I wanted to strangle her.” Warren gulped, his face turning red and his eyes bulging. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 15