A Lesson in Murder

by Nick Bishop

  “Wow,” Jed said, “we talked to him, and he never mentioned that he apologized.”

  “He did. And Joe told me he was sorry he didn’t give the boy much of a chance to explain. He found out later that he was telling the truth about the paper.”

  “How did he find out?” Ellie asked.

  “The kid’s best friend. It seems Gary was still angry and showed the friend the ruined paper. He then told Joe.”

  “I wonder why Joe didn’t do anything about it then.”

  “He thought of it. But grades had already been turned in. And he decided just to let it go…though, as he told me, he later regretted it. He could at least have tried to make things right. It was a mistake on his part…ironic, since he cared so much about his students.”

  “Can you think of anyone else?”

  “Those are the only people I’ve thought of. If I think of anyone else, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks for seeing us,” Jed said. “We should be going.”

  “Thank you for taking the time to talk with me. It’s been very hard. My mother has been a great help, but I really felt I needed to talk with someone who knew Joe.”

  “Well, if it helped at all, I’m certainly glad.”

  Jed and Ellie stood.

  “Thanks again,” Jed said as he and Ellie prepared to leave.

  “Your visit helped. Believe me it did. I just don’t know how I’m going to get through this. Fortunately, Mom is going to come later this evening and stay with me. So I won’t be alone…at least for now.”

  Outside, Jed and Ellie headed toward the car. “What did you think?” Jed asked as they climbed inside.

  “I can’t see her as the one who killed Joe, unless she’s extremely good at deceiving people. And she did say that she and Joe made up, so she had no motive.”

  “True,” Jed answered, “but we have only her word for that.”

  “Indeed. So, do you think she might be the guilty one?”

  “I tend to think what she said is the truth, but it’s at the point now where we have no real suspects—just a group of possibilities.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As soon as he dropped Ellie off, Jed called Sam to tell him that he and Ellie had talked with Laura.

  “Have time to stop in?” Sam asked. “We can talk about it. I’ll even save you a doughnut.”

  “And maybe call off the meter maids?”

  “That I can’t do!”

  “Oh, well, at least I thought I’d try.”

  Sam looked tired. “Long day?” Jed asked.

  “Meetings, meetings, meetings, meetings! I’d much rather be out chasing crooks.”

  “As a survivor of many an editorial meeting, I’m pretty sure I know what you mean.”

  Sam pulled open a desk drawer. “And I did promise you a doughnut.”

  “And no meter maids running around causing trouble?”

  “I seem to recall, Mr. Fredericks, that I specifically said that I could not exert undue influence on others employed by the police department.”

  Jed laughed. “Or words to that effect.”

  “So you want the doughnut or not?”

  “Chocolate-covered! Man! You really must want my cooperation.”

  “Sorry to shatter your illusions. But I bought the doughnuts late this morning.”

  “You mean you didn’t buy the chocolate one just for me?”

  “Delude yourself, if you wish.” He placed the box back into his desk drawer. “So you talked with Johnstone’s wife.”

  “Ellie and I did.”

  “I wouldn’t say that too loudly, if I were you.”

  “What? Oh, Ellie’s name, right.”

  Sam raised a finger to his lips. “Shh.” He grinned. “So tell me about the meeting. Was she cooperative? What was her attitude?”

  “Yes, she was glad to see us. Said she appreciated our coming to see her.”

  “How did she seem?” Sam asked.

  “Overcome by grief…which I’m sure was genuine.”

  “I see. So, what’s your opinion?”

  “Unless it’s a matter of regret for murdering her husband, I’d say she didn’t do it.”

  “Like everyone else! Possibilities just fading away.”

  “Ellie and I were talking about that. It seems no one had a motive. And incidentally, I found out that the boy who threatened Joe later apologized.”

  “Johnstone’s wife told you?”

  “Yes…and that Joe regretted giving him the lower grade and not believing him.”

  “He told the wife this?”

  “He did. He also found out that Gary was telling him the truth about the paper.”

  “So why didn’t he give the boy a second chance.”

  “The semester was over; he decided just to let it go.”

  “Interesting. But the boy really said he was sorry?”

  “Yes, and it seems they patched things up. You know too, the superintendent of schools told the boy he’d let him take an online English class, and if he did well, the superintendent would erase the old grade and replace it with the one Gary earned online.”

  “So that seems to take care of the whole problem, doesn’t it?”

  “It would seem so?”

  “The wife couldn’t think of anyone else then, anyone who might have had reason to kill Joe.”

  “Not really. She mentioned an archery competitor, but that doesn’t seem likely.”

  “A competitor.”

  “A guy who, according to Laura, nearly always came in second to Joe. She thought it might be a vengeance sort of thing. But the man lives in Michigan.”

  “Know his name?”

  “I don’t, but I can ask.”

  “Why don’t you do that?”

  “So did you find out anything?”

  “Nothing of consequence. Or so it seems. We did find samples of potting soil near where Johnstone’s car was parked. Actually, in the flattened grass.”

  “Potting soil? That’s weird.”

  “That’s what I thought too,” Sam answered. “Unless whoever was driving the other vehicle was replanting pots of flowers.”

  “How can that help, I wonder.”

  “Not likely it will. Lots of people use potting soil,” Sam said. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and find one of the suspects has a green thumb.”

  “Nothing else that could help?” Jed asked.

  “Not really. Sweet River finally got back to me about Yoder.”

  “Anything of value?”

  “It seems he was away from home the day Johnstone was killed. The cop who called me talked to Yoder’s wife who said she didn’t know where all he’d gone, other than to buy some supplies he needed.”

  “What kind of supplies?” Jed asked.

  “Nails, some boards, things like that. A hammer.”

  “And he brought them home?”

  “The wife said he did,” Sam answered.

  “They didn’t talk to Yoder himself.”

  “Apparently, they did, but for only a few minutes. He’d been out in one of his fields, harvesting crops. Don’t know what.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Not much of value, it seems. Backed up what his wife said.”

  “So maybe he is the one. Maybe he came to Dover before returning to Sweet River,” Jed said

  “Possible, I suppose?”

  “But again the same questions. Why would Joe agree to meet with him, and how would he get in touch?”

  “Because the Amish often don’t have access to phones,” Sam answered.

  “Exactly. Though I understand that many do have access to phone service. So that really gets us nowhere.”

  “I checked with Gary Bochart’s mother. Didn’t want to upset the boy, if I could avoid it. Seems he’s had enough problems, as it is.”

  “What did she say?” Jed asked.

  “He swears up and down that he and Johnstone were on tolerable, if not good, terms. So that part of the investigation se
ems to be a dead end, at least right now.” Sam shook his head. “I admit, Jed, that right now we’re stumped. The investigation seems to be going nowhere. And you know what they say, “The longer the investigation takes, the harder it’s going to be to solve.” He glanced up a Jed. “How about you? Anything in mind? Anything you can suggest?”

  “Nope. I’m stumped too.”

  “Well, if you find any leads or anything suspicious or remotely related to the case, give me a call.”

  ***

  Sugar and Spice were waiting for Jed, Spice at the door, Sugar, as usual, a few steps behind. “So how are my two best buddies?” Jed asked.

  They both looked up at him and meowed. Ellie was right, he thought. They did almost talk. “I bet you guys are hungry, aren’t you?” Spice twisted around Jed’s leg while Sugar stood nearby looking up at him. “Silly question, huh? Of course, you’re hungry. And you know what? Today is treat day. I have a whole new sack of treats that hasn’t been opened. Your favorite flavor—salmon. But only for dessert. As my mom always said, you have to clean your plate before you have any cake or pie…or in this case, treats.”

  Both looked at him as if they understood. He wondered if they did. Wouldn’t that be something? After all, they did know a lot of different words and phrases like, “Come here,” “Let me go to sleep,” and “I’m going to feed you.” Unlike most other cats, they always came when he called and they always settled down when he told them he wanted to sleep. It had often occurred to him that he’d love to be able to see into their minds…not only to see what they thought, but how their thought processes worked.

  He fed them and decided to treat himself to some junk food—a pizza. He called and ordered a large. He knew he couldn’t eat the whole thing at once, but cold pizza was good too—especially with pineapple, green peppers, and pepperoni.

  Once Sugar and Spice finished their meals and their treats—five each, Jed turned on the TV news and settled on the couch to wait for the pizza. Immediately, the two cats jumped into his lap.

  Once he finished his pizza, Jed decided to call Ellie and tell her about his meeting with Sam.

  “So, nothing that will help,” she said. “Except by some miracle the potting soil leads to a suspect. The thing is, though, I don’t remember seeing any potted plants anywhere we went—to Gary’s house, to talk with Jacob Yoder, and to Briner House.”

  “Any more thoughts about Laura?”

  “No… I take that back. Laura called me.”

  “She did? For any specific reason?”

  “Yes. She called the man in Michigan whose name by the way is Ron Thompkins. She called ostensibly to tell him about Joe. He told her he already knew. It was on national news because Joe was a well-known archer.”

  “I see. And does she suspect him?”

  “He told her he’d been in California. San Diego, for his son’s wedding.”

  “That means he must be older than Joe was,” Jed said.

  “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

  “And what if, because he is older, he felt he was losing his chance to make a big impact in the world of archery. Like an Olympic medal, maybe.”

  “Possibly, but it’s easy to check out if he’s telling the truth,” Ellie said.

  “The San Diego newspaper digital version, right? See if the paper covered the wedding and if it listed members of the wedding party. In fact, I’ll get right on that and let you know what I find out.”

  “Laura tended to believe him. He said he and his wife had just returned home the night before last. They decided to take in some of the sights while in California. According to Laura, they visited the zoo, went to the space Theatre. Things like that.”

  “As I said, easy to check.”

  “Okay. See you at school tomorrow.”

  “Right.” Once he hung up, Jed hurried to his office—a converted bedroom—and turned on his computer. He couldn’t remember the name of the San Diego paper but soon found it was the Union Tribune. He checked the news for the day Joe was murdered and made a search of the society section. Sure enough, the wedding was listed, but it was only a brief item stating the marriage took place and listed the parents of the wedding couple. Obviously, Jed thought, the couple wasn’t prominent enough to qualify for a major write up. Well, at least he had found that the wedding took place, and in all likelihood both sets of parents attended. Another dead end!

  Jed glanced at the bottom right corner of the monitor to check the time. It was just past eight. He’d thought all day of calling Sara. “Okay,” he told himself, “you can’t keep putting it off. It’s time to get serious about this…or forget it.”

  He still remembered Sara’s number and hoped it hadn’t changed. His breathing and heartbeat both a little rapid, he dialed.

  He heard a click. “Jed, what a nice surprise,” a voice said.

  “You still remember my number?”

  “Of course. Mind like a steel trap. Problem is, it’s always sprung.”

  Jed laughed.

  “Did you call for any special reason or just to talk?”

  “A little of both, I guess. First, I’d like to invite you to lunch this weekend—Saturday or Sunday, your choice. And you choose the restaurant.”

  “Wow. Who can resist an offer like that?”

  “Well,” Jed kidded, “I’m hoping that it’s you who can’t resist.”

  “Sunday is better for me. But I’m an equal opportunity sort of woman. I choose the time, but you choose the place.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “Surprise me, if you like.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “So, how are things coming with your investigation?”

  “Unfortunately, it seems to be at somewhat of a standstill.” He told her what had happened so far.

  “You were a damned good reporter, Joe. And Sam is a good cop. I’m sure you’re going to find out who killed the man.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sara lived in New Philadelphia, twin city of Dover. Jed picked her up a little before noon.

  She gave him a big smile as she climbed into the car. “Good to see you, Jed. I should be more demure,” she said, “but I have to admit I was hoping that you’d call.” She glanced at him. “So where are we going?”

  “Tlaquepaque. I hope you’re in the mood for Mexican.”

  “Hmm, nearly everything I know about Mexican cuisine can be stated in two words: taco and burrito.”

  He pulled away from the curb.

  “Well, then you’re in for a treat. There’s much more to it than burritos and tacos. Y tambien, quero practicar mi español. Who knows when it might come in handy—like with all the exchange students from Spain and the rest of the Americas.”

  “I assume you’re saying something like you want to practice your Spanish.”

  “I’m impressed! Didn’t expect you to understand at all.”

  “Think I’m a dummy, do you? I’ll have you know my IQ is better than ninety-nine.”

  “Better than ninety-nine. Now I’m really impressed. Except I expect it’s maybe forty points or so better than that.”

  “You caught me.”

  “Well, I’ll have you know that my IQ is…”

  “Pretty darned high, I’d say.”

  “What I started to say is it’s Intentionally Quirky”

  “You’re a little touched in the head, as my grandma would say.”

  “Nah. Just a little quirky, but intentionally so. It’s a proven fact.”

  “Mr. Fredericks?” Sara said. “I’m beginning to suspect you may be operating a motor vehicle while intoxicated.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t think less of me. But ever since I called, I’ve been a little high on the idea of seeing you.”

  “What a nice thing to say!”

  Jed turned onto Wabash and parked in front of the restaurant.

  “Estas listo?” J
ed asked.

  “You got me on that one. I have no idea what you meant…except maybe you’re asking me for some sort of list…or else a mouth wash!”

  Jed burst out laughing. “I asked if you’re ready.”

  “I am, but you know what? Next time, monsieur, we are going to a French restaurant.”

  “So, you speak French.”

  “Actually, I don’t. But since neither of us does—or so I assume—we’d be on equal ground.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the Spanish.”

  Jed helped her out of the car and into the restaurant where they took a seat in back. “How about if I order for us? I say that only because you said you know only a little about Mexican cuisine.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “What sort of thing would you like? Vegetarian, meat, chicken, fish?”

  “Well, just keep in mind that I don’t want to lose my girlish figure!”

  “I don’t think one meal is going to change that.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  A waiter, who appeared as if he could have come straight from Mexico, approached the table. “Buenos dias, señor y señora.”

  “Buenos dias, mi amigo. ¿Como esta?”

  “Ah, hable mi lengua.”

  “Poquito.”

  “Mas que poquito. ¿Es verdad?”

  “Posiblemente.”

  “Estas listo a ordenar?”

  Jed turned to Sara. “Would you like a margarita?”

  “Never had one.”

  “Then you should certainly try it,” the waiter answered in perfect English.

  Sara gave the waiter a big smile. “Why not?”

  “I’ll bring the drinks then while you decide on your order.”

  “Gracias,” Jed answered.

  Jed studied the menu and decided on the carne asada, grilled and sliced steak, with a baked potato, mixed vegetables, and a chef’s salad.”

  The waiter quickly retuned with the drinks and took the order.

  He returned once more with a dish of totopos, corn chips, and salsa.

  “So, what do you think so far?”

  “I think there are some wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. By the way, what in the hell did your order for us? Something like chopped-up steak.”

  “Mas o menos. More or less. I hope you’ll like it.”