by Jack Parker
The three of them inspected the damage in the office, and then the den. They went upstairs and the boys peeked into the master bedroom, but it was pretty much back in order. Cindy paused in the middle of making the bed to wave to them, and Jennifer shooed the boys off to Justin's room with a snotty remark about what the cops might have found in there.
Justin shut the door and sank down on his bed. He surveyed his room and said, "What a mess! Wouldn't surprise me if the bitch came in here and tore it up herself, and blamed it on the thief."
Zack had walked straight to the back wall and stood looking at the return vent grille at the bottom of the wall. Both boys could clearly see through the louvers; there was a baggie containing two joints. "Do you think she knows?" Zack asked as he moved the cover aside and pulled the baggie out. "Or is she just guessing?"
"Who cares?" Justin said disdainfully. "The cops didn't find it, that's all that matters."
"Maybe it's like her and her girlfriend," Zack said thoughtfully. "We know, but we don't know, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, well, it's a Mexican standoff. She won't rat on me because I'll just tell Dad her dirty little secret. Personally I think it serves Dad right that she's cheating on him so I'm not about to clue him in."
"Yeah," Zack agreed. "But Dude, what about the money? You saw your dad's office. No matter what the guy was after he would've taken the money too. We are so screwed!"
Justin thought for a minute and then grinned. "No we aren't! Dad's got a secret hidey-hole he thinks I don't know about," he said. "You go talk to the girls, keep 'em busy. I'll slip down to the office and get the cash. Then we're outta here."
The plan worked like a charm. Zack was still chatting with Jennifer and Cindy when Justin yelled up from the bottom of the stairs that he was ready to go. Everyone was glad they'd left.
Gracie parked her bike in the rack on campus and locked it down. She often visited Bill at the lab on Tuesdays, they could talk without being interrupted by his students. They chatted about environmental issues while he conducted his experiments. He was always so afraid someone would steal his work, but she didn't know enough about what he was doing to be a threat, and besides, she was his friend. She'd just been there last week, but wanted to ask him about that conversation she'd overheard at the party.
She walked to a side door in the chemistry building, she knew a shortcut to the lab. When she got there she pounded on the door and yelled, "Bill! It's me, Gracie!"
She got no response, so she knocked again. "Bill? Are you in there? Yell if you're busy, I can wait."
She heard nothing. She tried the door but, as expected, it was locked. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to check the time - not quite 4:00 PM.
"He's supposed to be there," she said aloud to herself. "Maybe he knocked off early today. Might's well go on home."
Gracie took the long way out, intending to ask Rita if she knew where Bill was. But as she approached the information counter she saw Rita was busy talking to a student and decided not to interrupt.
"I'm Jesse Conover," the young man was saying as Gracie walked by. "I saw him last week and told him I'd come back."
"I'm sorry sir, but the professor is unavailable at the moment," Rita said smoothly. "You'll have to come back tomorrow." She was very good at her job.
Gracie turned her head towards them on hearing the name, odd to hear it when she'd been looking for Bill. The guy glanced over his shoulder at the passing students as he seemed to wonder what to do next. He was medium height and a little thick; with a plain face and sandy brown hair. He reminded Gracie of someone, but she couldn't think who. Maybe she'd seen him around the building before; she didn't pay much attention to the guys, none of them would be interested in a high school girl. She walked on out and biked home.
Gracie checked the answering machine when she got home. Shawna had told her she might be able to take her to the car lot this evening, and she was excited about it. There was indeed a message - but not from Shawna.
"Gracie? This is Jennifer. I, um, thought you should know. I wouldn't, like, talk to your dad about the car for a few days. We got broken into this morning, some stuff was taken. He's not going to be in a good mood for awhile. He's not home yet, but I left him a message. So, you know, don't bug him about it for awhile. Um, Bye."
CHAPTER 7
"What time is it, Love?" Jennifer asked. "Seems like we've been working for hours." In spite of having drunk most of the bottle of wine Jennifer was surprised she wasn't tipsy. Apparently she'd needed it to calm herself down.
The den looked better now simply because the cushions were back in place on the furniture. It was a big rectangular room with a yellow spruce floor and wallpaper with subtle rippled stripes in yellow and white. The furniture all stood on chrome legs and was covered in yellow, orange, or brown leather. The chrome and glass coffee and occasional tables echoed the rectilinear theme. In one corner a large mirror was surrounded by glass shelves full of liquor bottles and glassware, with a white marble-topped bar in front. The opposite corner was taken up by a large plasma screen TV and stereo system. The wall next to the television was completely covered by bookshelves above pine cabinets topped with sunshine-yellow cushions to make a bench seat.
Cindy looked up at the clock from where she sat on the floor putting old magazines and games back in the cabinets. "It's just now 5:00," she said. "It does seem like it should be later."
Jennifer had a bucket of water and a sponge, she was trying to soak the Scotch out of the tan area rug. "At least he could've smashed the vodka," she muttered. "It wouldn't stain so badly." She paused in her efforts to look at Cindy.
"I wonder where Charles is?" she asked. "I mean, he said he'd be home early and I, like, left him a message. You'd think he'd want to come see what was stolen."
"Maybe his 'big deal' went south, and he's drowning his sorrows," suggested Cindy.
"Oh, God, don't say that!" Jennifer replied with some heat. "That's all I need. I'm hoping he made the sale and will be in such a good mood that he'll just blow this off." She thought for a minute, then asked, "Do you remember what time he said the meeting was?"
Cindy shut one set of doors and scooted over to the next pair. "Do you really need to keep all this stuff? I thought he said 2:00. How long could it take?"
Just then the doorbell rang. Jennifer stood up and grabbed a towel to dry her hands, inspecting her nails in the process. "I've ruined my manicure," she complained. The bell chimed again and she went to answer it.
There was a nice-looking middle-aged man in a brown suit standing on the porch. "Mrs. Charles Greene?" he asked. He held out an official-looking badge and said, "I'm Lieutenant Kenneth Freeman, may I come in and talk to you please?" Lieutenant Freeman was about average height, with slightly graying brown hair cut just a little longer than what used to be considered the department standard, as if he hadn't quite gotten out of that habit. He had soft brown eyes and the beginnings of a padded middle.
Jennifer said, "Of course, Officer. Please come in." She stepped aside to let him in, and shut the door behind him. "You're here about the robbery. We're still cleaning up, I mean, the other officer said it was OK. My, um, husband hasn't come home yet if you're, like, here to talk to him. He should've been here by now."
"Robbery?" Lieutenant Freeman asked in surprise. "There's been a robbery here today?"
Jennifer looked thoroughly confused. "Yes," she said firmly. "Someone broke in while I was out shopping." She began to get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Isn't that why you're here? To, like, follow up from Officer Barker?"
Cindy walked in at that point and said automatically, "It was 'Barclay', Jen." She turned to the policeman and said, "I'm Cindy Stone, a friend of Jennifer's. She called me when she got home and found it had been burgled." She paused a moment, looking shrewdly at Lieutenant Freeman. "There's something wrong, isn't there?"
The lieutenant looked down the hall trying to see the layout of the house. "Is the
re somewhere we can sit, Mrs. Greene?"
Jennifer's face had turned white, and Cindy put her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Let's go to the dining room, we can talk in there." She guided Jennifer and Lieutenant Freeman followed.
Ken Freeman looked at the two frightened faces across the dining room table and thought that this was the absolute worst part of his job. There was no way to soften the blow, and he always felt the consummate stranger when he had to deliver the message.
"Mrs. Greene," he began. "I'm very sorry to tell you this, but your husband is dead."
"Oh God, NO," she wailed. "Charles? It can't be true!" She'd been sitting with her arms on the table and now dropped her head onto them, sobbing loudly.
Cindy looked equally shocked. "Oh my God," she said rather quietly. "I guess you're sure or you wouldn't be here. What happened, was it a car wreck?" She was patting Jennifer gently on the back, trying to let her know she wasn't alone.
"No, Ma'am. There's no easy way to say this, but it appears to be murder," the lieutenant said.
Jennifer sat bolt upright and shrieked, "Murder?" Tears were running down her face, her mascara running down her cheeks.
Ken thought to himself that she was being a little obviously melodramatic. Most people went into shock and the tears came later. He was cynical enough to think that since she was much younger than her husband she was probably more attached to his money than to him. She certainly looked like a gold-digger. Then again, if she'd come home to find she'd been robbed she would already be quite emotional. Could there be a connection? He allowed himself his opinions, but wouldn't let them interfere with the facts.
"I'm afraid so, Ma'am," he said. "He was found shot to death outside the gates of the Bixby mansion this afternoon."
"Shot!" Cindy said. "He had an appointment with Mr. Bixby this afternoon at 2:00. We were just saying that he should've been home by now." She was quiet for a minute before saying, "Now we know why he wasn't."
Jennifer had returned her head to her arms and was crying again.
"Yes, Ma'am," Ken said. "We know about the meeting, it was Bixby's staff that found the body and called us. I know this is a bad time, Mrs. Greene. But did your husband have any enemies? Anyone that might've wanted to kill him?"
Jennifer sat up and sniffled, tried to compose herself. "My husband was a generous and friendly man," she said. "He made a lot of money, I suppose there are people who thought, I mean, he might've done some things they didn't like. He liked to flaunt his money, maybe it, like, made someone mad."
Tears started running down her face again. "Please excuse me, Officer," she said in a shaky voice. "I need to go get a tissue." She got up and left the room.
"Ms. Stone, did you know Mr. Greene?" Ken asked. "Can you think of anyone who might've wanted to kill him?"
Cindy pondered the question for a minute. "Yes Sir, I knew him. Jen's my best friend, I was over here quite a lot. Jen wouldn't say it, but Charles wasn't really a nice man. He thought of himself that way, but the only person he really cared about was himself. He could be very generous, that's true - but he only did it to show off or so he'd get some favor down the line."
"He cheated on Jen," she continued. "And his first wife, that's why she divorced him. He drinks quite a bit, too. I don't know it for a fact, but I wouldn't be surprised if he cheated anyone else if he had the chance, especially if there was money involved. He certainly lied to Jen, he probably lies to others, too." She smiled a little cynically. "I think that goes with the territory of selling insurance, don't you? Anything to make the sale."
Ken agreed that salesmen did have that reputation. "Sounds like there are a lot of possibilities. Do you know of anyone in particular?" he asked.
"No," Cindy replied. "I don't think Charles much liked me, so I didn't hang around when he got home. I don't know anything about his professional life, I'm afraid I can't help you there."
Jennifer came back in, her eyes dry and makeup repaired. "I'm sorry, Officer," she said sweetly. "I'll try to answer your questions now. She sat down demurely.
"I was asking if your husband had any enemies that you knew of," he said.
"Charles? No," she replied. "Of course I don't know about work, but, like, he seemed to get along with everyone. Well, George, the, um, guy next door, he always complained about the noise when we, like, had a party." Jennifer smiled brightly. "We always invited him, but I guess he's just a party pooper."
"So, tell me about the break-in," Ken said.
"Well, there's not much to tell," Jennifer replied. "I mean, I came home and the house was all torn up and all my jewelry was gone."
"What time did you come home?" he asked.
"It was 2:45," she said. "I remember looking at the clock in the car when I got here, because I had a lot of stuff to do." She started crying softly again. "We were supposed to celebrate his big sale tonight. Oh, I don't even know if he made the sale or not!"
"Yes, Ma'am," Ken said. "Mr. Bixby signed the contract and your husband left at 3:00. A staff member noticed his car was still in the driveway around 4:00, went to check on it and found the body." He paused a moment, then said as diplomatically as he could, "I have to ask this, Mrs. Greene. Is there anyone who can verify what time you got home this afternoon?"
Jennifer looked indignant. "Of course there is!" she exclaimed rather heatedly. "I called the police as soon as I got here, and then I called Cindy because I couldn't, like, deal with it all by myself. Oh, I called Charles too; only I got his voice mail and left a message. You can check my phone records!"
In a calm voice Cindy said, "Jen, Dear, you told me you'd gone through the house before you called the police."
"Oh, yeah," she said. "Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just so upset. Yes, I walked through the whole house, in a kind of, like, shock first. Then I came straight downstairs and called the police, and then Cindy and Charles."
Ken was inclined to let that little detail go. It was natural enough that a person would want to see the extent of the invasion - and clearly this one was quite concerned about her jewelry. He wondered how much it was worth, probably quite a lot in this neighborhood. And what else was missing?
"She called me just before 3:00," Cindy said. "I was running a little late for work or I'd have been gone already. We'd been shopping all morning and she'd dropped me off around 2:30." Cindy's manner was factual without sounding cold.
Cindy smiled a little ironically. "But I'm afraid you just have our word, Lieutenant. Unless maybe some of the neighbors saw us. Jen did buy a dress, I'm sure she's got the receipt in her purse; but we found it first thing out so it doesn't prove much. We were having fun so we just kept on shopping."
Ken said, "It'll be easy enough to check with the officer that investigated the burglary, but I can't see how you could possibly have a better alibi than talking to the cops at the time of the murder!" He made a pained face, having realized how bad that sounded. "I apologize, ladies. That was out of line."
"It was an Officer Broccoli," Jennifer said eagerly.
Ken automatically looked at Cindy for confirmation. He'd already figured out that Jennifer was either very distressed (quite possibly the explanation under the circumstances), or not very good with names.
Cindy smiled kindly. "Officer Barclay," she said. "But I'm afraid I don't remember his first name."
"I'll find him," Ken said. "Did you and your husband live here alone?"
"No," Jennifer said in a slightly irritated voice. "Justin lives here, too. Um, he's Charles' son, like, from his first marriage. He's, um, eighteen, he's still in high school."
"No love lost there!" Ken thought to himself. "Where is Justin now?" he asked.
"Oh, um, he and his friend went out somewhere." Jennifer's voice was much nicer now, she didn't want to give the cop the idea that she didn't like Justin - even if she didn't! "They came home earlier and I told 'em about the break-in, and they left again. I think they were just, you know, trying to avoid having to do any work." She smiled as if to
say 'you know how boys are.'
Ken did, he had two boys of his own. He asked, "Did your husband have any other children? You mentioned an ex-wife…"
"Yeah, um, two other kids," Jennifer replied, looking like she'd had trouble doing the math. "Clarke is twenty-one, he's away at college. Gracie is sixteen, she lives with her mother, Clarissa, you know, his first wife. And, um, he's got a sister, too."
Ken said, "You'll want to give them the bad news. And I need to check into the robbery, there might be a connection." He thought for a minute and then said, "I'd really like to talk to the family tonight. Could you possibly ask them to come over this evening, say in an hour or so?"
Jennifer looked like the task was beyond her capabilities, but Cindy immediately said, "Of course, Lieutenant." She looked at the clock and back to the policeman. "How about 6:30? They'll all be here."
"That'll be fine, Ms. Stone," Ken said and got up to leave. "Mrs. Greene, I am truly sorry for your loss." Even though he meant it, it sounded stilted to his ears.
Jennifer muttered her thanks but made no effort to stand. Cindy was the one who escorted him to the door.
CHAPTER 8
At 6:30 PM the Greene home once again hosted the people who had been there at Saturday's party. Except for Clarke (Clarissa had called him with the news, but urged him to stay at school for the time being) and of course, Charles. Even Justin and Zack had showed back up. This time the guests were somber and nervous, no one quite knew what to say.
Clarissa had stopped on her way over to pick up a selection of sandwiches, and she and Gracie were arranging them on the dining room table when Jeanine walked in.
Jeanine snagged a sandwich, stuffed half of it in her mouth, and tried to talk and chew at the same time. "Jeez, I'm starved. Payday's not 'til Thursday, I didn't get any lunch. Can't believe the frickin' cops want us here at dinner time."
With just the slightest trace of sarcasm Clarissa said, "That's exactly why I brought the sandwiches. Poor Jennifer isn't thinking about food, but I thought this way we could eat if we felt like it. Be a dear, Jeanine, and find the big coffee maker, I'm afraid this will be a long evening."