by Kaye George
She heard two men’s voices at the front door, Cole and someone else. Her curiosity got the better of her. She stuck the ice cream back into the freezer and went to see who was there. The sight of Allen Wendt in her doorway made her pause. What was he doing here?
Cole had switched on a lamp, and Allen caught sight of her.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I was on a job on that side of town, at an apartment building that had a plumbing problem. I saw that cop take you into the station and you were cuffed. I thought I’d drop by and see if you were home. And how you’re doing.”
“She’s pretty upset,” Cole said. “You want me to tell him, Sis?”
She nodded and curled up in the corner of the couch while Cole related everything to Allen about the shoe and her questioning.
Allen looked at her when he was finished. “Do they really think you would have killed Gene?”
“And Mart,” she said. “It seemed like that when they were drilling me over and over.”
Allen looked down and shook his head. “What’s going on anyway? That’s stupid. You didn’t kill anyone.”
“Well, who did?” Tally cried. “Someone did. And everyone is under suspicion until someone finds out who.”
The clock ticked on the mantel in the silence following her outburst. The three sat and racked their brains while the ticking urged them on, reminding them that each second wasted could never be retrieved.
Cole broke the silence. “Should we make a list?”
Tally and Allen both looked at him. “What kind of list?” she asked.
“A list of suspects.”
“Oh,” she said. “And put down why they could have done it and why they couldn’t? For Gene or for Mart?”
“Let’s start with Gene. Let’s also try to figure out what the police know.”
Allen tapped his foot. “So we can figure out what the cops will do next.”
“Exactly,” Cole said.
Tally thought that would be a waste of time. She’d done the same thing in her mind so many times, she couldn’t count them. And it hadn’t gotten her anywhere. Aloud, though, she agreed. What else could they do? She crawled out of the corner of the couch to retrieve a pad of paper and a pen from the kitchen.
“Who’s the secretary?” She raised her eyebrows at Cole, expecting him to volunteer.
“I’ll do it,” Allen said.
She hadn’t expected that, but handed the paper and pen to him and perched on the edge of the couch cushion. It didn’t seem right that he was participating in this, since, in her mind, he was as good a suspect as anyone.
What if he was the one who had killed both of them? On the other hand, what if Allen thought she was the killer? She seemed to be the best suspect right now, for the police. At least no one suspected Cole. He hadn’t been in town yet when Gene died. And he wouldn’t have killed Mart. No, he wouldn’t have. She knew he wouldn’t have. What she hated was suspecting everyone.
“So,” Cole began. “We’re starting with Gene. Who do we list?”
“I’ll give you the names I gave the police,” Tally said. She remembered Gene and Allen arguing before the murder, but she hadn’t mentioned that to the detective and didn’t mention it now either. “I told them Allen was there, of course, and Dorella.”
“Dorella was in your kitchen?” Cole said. “When was that?”
“No, not in the kitchen. She was only in the front. But she was mad at Gene.”
“So you don’t need to write her down,” Cole said.
“Yes, you do,” Tally insisted. “The back door was unlocked and she could have gone around to the alley.”
Cole stood up and threw his hands in the air. “If you put it that way, anyone in Fredericksburg could have gone in and killed him.”
Chapter 24
Allen broke the tie. “We need to include everyone who is likely to be suspected by the police. I’ll add Dorella’s name. So, for Gene’s murder, we have her and me.”
Nigel sauntered into the room and rubbed against Allen’s leg. Allen reached down absentmindedly and gently pushed him away, but Nigel was persistent.
Tally saw Allen write his own name under Dorella’s. “I also told the police that Yolanda, Andrea, and Mart were around near the time he died.”
Allen dutifully added their names, then looked up at her. “And?”
“I give. And?”
“You were there.”
Tally let out a breath and collapsed slightly. “Yes, I was, and I seem to be a suspect now, too.” She considered her brother. “You’re the only one of us who isn’t.”
Allen squinted and tilted his head at Cole. Was he considering that he could be a suspect, as well?
“Don’t look at me.” Cole held his hands up to block Allen’s eyes. “I wasn’t in town yet.”
Nigel gave up on Allen, who kept nudging him away, and the cat jumped onto the couch next to Cole.
“When did you get here?” Allen asked Cole.
“That night.”
Tally spoke up for him. “He got to my house two or three hours after I found the body. And Gene was murdered some time before I found him.”
Allen shrugged. “Okay, I’ll leave you off, Cole. Now what? We have a list of names.”
“Now,” Cole said, “we go through each one and see what motive and opportunity they have. Right, Sis?”
Nigel crept into Cole’s lap, where he was rewarded with a head rub.
“Not quite,” Tally said. “I mean, we’re not quite done with our list. There are two more suspects, Gene’s adopted mother and father.”
“What motive did his parents have to kill their son?” Cole asked, incredulity in his horrified eyes.
Everyone in the room grew quiet at the thought. Then Nigel’s roaring purr broke the silence.
“He’s not their biological son,” Tally said. “He was adopted as a teenager, and it doesn’t look like either of them ever bonded with him. Yolanda and I have been trying to see if they could have done it, and their alibis are thin.”
“Wow. It’s a wonder he lived as long as he did, with that many enemies,” Cole said. “I almost feel sorry for the guy.”
“I know. Me too,” Tally agreed.
“What do I put down?” Allen asked.
Cole told him to make columns for motive and opportunity. “Do you have a better motive than not bonding, Sis?”
“There’s the mayor’s upcoming election, and Gene has been embarrassing him, being seen with lots of different women in, I imagine, his convertible, if not other places. I also know that he took money from them. I don’t know if that’s common knowledge, but I know that he has. Mayor Faust wanted to be rid of him and had even petitioned to have the adoption annulled.”
“Can you do that?” Cole asked.
“I have no idea. His mother didn’t like Gene at all, from what I can tell. She’s been trying to divorce her husband and wants the house. I heard her say she was afraid they would both lose everything because of Gene.”
“Why would that be?” Allen said, raising his head from his note taking.
“I don’t know that, either,” Tally said. Maybe they knew he was stealing money and had never reformed, when reform was the purpose in adopting him—to show what a loving family could accomplish, presumably. But when she had stated their so-called motives out loud, they didn’t seem too solid. “Maybe both of them would have simply rather ignored him than have killed him.”
“Let’s talk about Dorella,” Cole said.
She seemed a better suspect than his parents. “She was spitting mad at him right before he was killed. And you’ve said she has quite a temper, right?”
Cole had to admit that. “Yeah, she kicked a hole in a door.”
“You saw her do th
at?” Allen asked.
“No, but I saw the hole and she told me she did it.”
“She’s got the temperament then, doesn’t she?” Allen looked to Tally, and she agreed.
“What was she mad about?” Allen asked. “When she was at your shop, not when she kicked in her door.”
“Charges he’d racked up on her credit card bill,” Cole said. “Not a motive for murder, I don’t think. When she kicked in the door, she was mad at the credit card company for not handling her complaint the way she wanted them to.”
She knew he was reluctant to ascribe a solid motive to Dorella, and she was glad he didn’t feel he could. They seemed pretty serious together, as serious as Cole ever got about anyone, so it was a good thing she couldn’t be considered a good candidate.
“I wrote Mart’s name down, but I don’t think I should have,” Allen said.
“I’m not sure,” Tally said. “Could she have killed Gene, and then someone else have killed her?”
“Anything’s possible,” Cole said. “But do you really think that happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“Yes, there is!” Tally was exasperated with her brother. “You’re not helping. We’re trying to consider all the possibilities, aren’t we?” Cole didn’t answer. “Well, aren’t we? Mart actually had a pretty good motive if she thought she was pregnant with Gene’s baby. And if she was stealing money from me for an abortion.”
“Let’s talk about the money,” Cole said. “That’s a good motive for murder.”
Tally got a sudden stomachache, remembering the argument her brother had had with Mart about the money he lent her for that abortion. “I’m certain that both Mart and Gene were stealing from me, but I can’t prove it.”
“Then you have good motives for getting rid of both of them, don’t you?” Allen was scribbling on the list.
“There’s one more,” Cole said. “Andrea.”
“Jealousy for her, plain and simple,” Tally said. “She thought Gene had a thing for her, but then she found out he had things for every female who looked at him.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere.” Cole stood, depositing Nigel on the floor.
Nigel laid his ears flat onto his furry head and strutted over to rub Tally’s leg, his tail held high. She reached down and petted the big cat. She’d known this process wouldn’t get them anywhere. She’d tried it over and over with this exact same result.
Chapter 25
After Allen left, leaving the list of suspects lying prominently on the coffee table, Cole announced to Tally that he was going to get something to eat somewhere else. Did he want to avoid being with his sister because he thought she was a murderer? Murderess? Whatever? When he was gone, she switched off the lamp and went into the kitchen.
She scrambled an egg and toasted a piece of bread, rounding off her meal with a banana that was on its last good day. She wasn’t even hungry for that small meal, but Nigel’s appetite was fine. He complained until she filled his bowl.
“Glad someone’s appetite is unaffected by all these tragedies,” she said to him. He had a cute habit of waiting politely until after his bowl was filled before digging in. Maybe he was afraid she would stop serving him if he started in too early.
After she and Nigel were both finished, she wandered into the living room to switch on the television. She hadn’t turned on the lamp again, and heading toward the couch, she tripped and nearly fell headlong, catching herself on the arm of the couch.
When she turned the lamp on, she saw that she had tripped over her own shoes. When she had curled up on the couch, she had kicked them off. Picking up the offending footwear, it occurred to her that it was mostly due to footwear that she was a suspect, specifically that tennis shoe mate that someone had hidden in her office.
That was it!
If she could solve that mystery—figure out whose shoe it was and who had put it in her office—she should be able to point the police to the real killer.
Closing her eyes, she pictured the shoe. It had been a bit larger than the ones she wore. For a fleeting moment, she realized that didn’t mean she wasn’t still a suspect. You could wear shoes that were too big for you. She pushed that thought firmly down.
It couldn’t have been Mart’s. She’d been tall and willowy, with long, narrow feet. The shoe was at least a medium width. For those who were in the shop a lot, who worked there, that left…Andrea. Andrea was taller than Tally, and she…yes! She carried a shoe bag and sometimes changed shoes.
Now she had to really think back. Tally squeezed her eyes shut and drummed her fingers full speed on the arm of the couch, trying to recall every detail of the day of Gene’s death. Had Andrea been wearing tennies when she came in? Tally thought she had. Had she worn them when she left?
The clock ticked. Nigel’s tongue made slight moist sounds as he licked the pads of his feet.
A faint squeaking sound. She recalled a faint squeaking sound. The sound of Andrea’s rubber soles as she left through the kitchen. She had been wearing tennies. Were they Chuck Taylors? Maybe. Tally returned to her recollection. Something was missing. When Andrea left through the back door, it should have squeaked loudly. It badly needed oiling. Tally had heard Andrea’s shoes, but she hadn’t heard the door squeak. Andrea hadn’t left right away. If she’d left later, Tally hadn’t heard. She hadn’t been listening after that—she had gotten busy with customers.
The door had also screeched as Allen left, shortly before Andrea. But it was silent as Andrea walked through the kitchen, and didn’t make any noise when she should have been going out the door.
Did she even go out the door right then?
Could Andrea have stayed in the kitchen and killed Gene? Why? Because he was seeing other women? That couldn’t be it. She was missing something important.
* * * *
At six thirty, about half an hour before closing on Tuesday afternoon, Cole texted Tally and offered to bring her something to eat at her store. She was glad to hear from him, since she wasn’t sure they were on good terms after last night. He was apparently at Burger Burger, no doubt to see Dorella. She texted back that she was starving because she hadn’t had time to eat lunch. She’d also overslept and hadn’t had much breakfast. She requested a cheeseburger and onion rings, and he arrived promptly with her meal.
As he came in the front door, she motioned him into the kitchen to eat. Making sure Andrea was occupied in the salesroom, she followed Cole to the office and closed the door for maximum privacy. She sat at her desk and Cole took the only other chair. Between bites, she told Cole her theory about the shoes and Andrea, as quietly as she could.
He rested his elbows on his knees to attack his own burger. “But why would she kill him? What’s going on in her life? What’s she like? I don’t know her at all.”
“I don’t know a whole lot about her. I know she lives at home and doesn’t have a good relationship with her mother.”
“That’s got nothing to do with Gene’s murder.”
“True. She’s been upset lately because it was the anniversary of her sister’s death.”
“Her sister died? How?”
“In a car wreck. The girl was only fourteen. She died way too young, and Andrea had a right to mourn her on the anniversary.”
Cole set his burger on the edge of her desk and pulled out his phone. “Let’s see if we can find out what happened to her sister.”
Tally got up and moved to stand over his shoulder to see what his search brought up.
“Do you know what her name was?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, but the last name is Booker.”
“How long ago did she die?”
Tally was getting tired of not knowing anything. “Wait, Yolanda told me. She said it was the tenth anniversary of her death. Yol
anda noted that it was a big milestone for Andrea’s family. Maybe that’s why she and her mother have been tangling so often, from grief over losing her too young.”
Cole thumbed his phone for a few seconds. “Got it. Patsy Booker, age fourteen. Killed in a car wreck.”
“Oh dear, that’s terrible.”
“The driver was a teenage boy. Patsy left behind her mother and an eight-year-old sister, Andrea. Her father was not alive.”
“I’ve wondered about her father. Yes, that’s definitely her. Does it say what happened? Was the driver drunk?”
“This article doesn’t even identify the driver. Let me look some more.”
Tally sat in her chair and picked at the breading on one of her onion rings while Cole continued to search.
“Oh my God.” Cole stared at Tally, his eyes wide. “The driver’s name was Gene. Gene Schwartz.”
“That was his name before he was adopted! Gene killed Andrea’s sister?”
“One reporter was scandalized because the driver was let go with a light punishment.”
“Why?”
“Because Josef Faust decided to adopt him and take responsibility. The reporter says he probably paid the Booker family a bunch of money.”
“You know, Dorella called him Gene Schwartz when she came in looking for him. I remember thinking she must have known him for a long time, back when that was his name.”
“Was Andrea there when she said that?”
“Yes, she was working with me in the front. And—I just remembered this—she said she felt sick and left soon after that. In the middle of her shift.”
Cole puffed out a big breath. “This all fits. We may have found our killer.”
The back door squeaked loudly. Tally realized they hadn’t been keeping their voices down. She jumped up and peeked into the kitchen. No one was there. She pushed the door open to the salesroom. The only ones there were a young couple who came in regularly for Moon Pies.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” she called to them.
“No rush,” the young man answered.
Andrea was gone.