Gracie Greene Mystery Box Set

by Jack Parker

  "Yeah, a bunch of us in the neighborhood get together about once a month. You know, boys' night out. Charles always brought a box of expensive cigars, though he rarely smoked anywhere else. Cubanos, you understand. I got the feeling he just did it because he thought they went with the setting – Scotch, cigars, and cards. He even wore one of those green eyeshades," Jim explained.

  "Did you catch him cheating, or is this sour grapes because you lost?" Ken asked.

  "It did seem like Charles won most of the time," Jim said. "So one night after the guys had left my place I got to thinking about it. Charles had won the last hand, a really big pot. We'd all just dropped our cards on the table and decided it was time to go home. I was picking up the cards and decided to check the hands. Charles had won with a full house, aces over threes; the missing ace was Hearts. Tom's hand had the ace of Hearts – and another ace of Spades. I threw the extra ace away."

  "How big were the pots?"

  "Couple of hundred dollars," Jim answered. "I think maybe that one had climbed to $500. Nothing we all couldn't afford to lose. But here's something else, Lieutenant. Things went missing after a game. Just little things. A wrist watch that had been left on a desk, an autographed baseball, sometimes cash from a desk drawer. Not every time; whoever it was didn't go snooping, just picked up stuff that was lying around."

  "Obviously you think Charles took these things," Ken said.

  "It never happened if he didn't play. I asked around, the other guys said the same thing. When I asked Charles he claimed he'd never missed anything when the game was at his place. He just laughed and said I was imagining things." Jim locked eyes with the detective. "I have no reason to doubt the other guys when they say they didn't do it. I realize that doesn't constitute proof, but I'm sure in my own mind it was Charles."

  "Uh huh," Ken said neutrally. "Do you have any idea who might've wanted Charles dead?"

  "Not a clue!" Jim answered. "There's so many possibilities. I can assure you I didn't do it."

  "Maybe you discovered he'd been having an affair with your wife?" Ken suggested.

  "Susan? Absolutely not! She's spent too much time listening to Clarissa cry on her shoulder about all Charles' infidelities, she'd never fall for a guy like that. Besides, she's too busy with her charity work to bother with a boyfriend," Jim told him with a grin.

  Ken thought to himself that there were probably a zillion husbands that thought the same thing only to find out they were wrong. It'd been a long shot, the man wasn't likely to admit it if he thought his wife was seeing another man. But his response had seemed honest, with no hint he was hiding anything.

  "Do you own a gun?" was Ken's next question.

  "Yes, I do," Jim answered calmly. "A .38 automatic. I keep it in the drawer by the bed, for protection. Susan and I both take it to the range for practice every few months; I want her to be able to use it if I weren't home and she had to."

  "I have to tell you that I've already spoken to your wife this morning and she told me the same thing," Ken said. "In fact I've sent an officer to pick the gun up for ballistics testing."

  "Good!" Jim replied heartily. "More proof that neither Susan nor I did it. Anything else?"

  "Not at the moment. If you should think of something, please let me know. And thanks very much for your time, Doctor.

  As Ken walked through the parking lot his phone rang. It was the Medical Examiner with the results of the autopsy. COD was a bullet through the heart; no stippling so it hadn't been at close range. The man was probably dead before he hit the ground. No obvious defensive wounds, but there was a faint bruise running in a line across the inside of his right forearm. Also, a definite bump on the back of the man's head. The ME was sure the goose egg had been acquired a couple of hours before death because of the amount of swelling. The bruise hadn't had time to darken and had probably happened shortly before death. They hadn't yet figured out what might have caused it.

  "Well, that was interesting," Ken said to himself as he drove towards the grocery store where Jeanine Thomas worked. Could Greene have hit his head as he dove for cover during the shots in the garage? The skin hadn't been broken so it wasn't like they could look for traces of blood. It didn't fit, either. There wasn't anything in the car that he would've been likely to hit his head on; not that would cause a big bump on the back.

  Ken had to insist on talking to Jeanine Thomas immediately; her boss had tried to get him to wait until her regular break. This way was better, they could have the break room to themselves. He waited patiently until Jeanine waddled through the door and dropped heavily into one of the plastic chairs.

  "Good morning, Ms. Thomas," he said. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to me."

  "I should think so," Jeanine said gruffly. "Damn Tony'll probably dock my pay for this. I might's well have a cup of coffee while I'm here." She made no move to get up.

  "Help yourself," Ken said, waving vaguely in the direction of the coffee pot.

  "You wouldn't get a lady a cup of coffee?" she asked with what was clearly meant to be a coquettish smile.

  Ken thought it looked gruesome on her large, sweaty face. But he got up to get it anyway, only because it might make her think he had accepted her overture; it might help loosen her lips.

  "I'm talking to everyone today, Ms. Thomas. Sometimes people feel more comfortable answering difficult questions when I'm alone with them," he told her. He couldn't bring himself to flirt with her, but she seemed to get the implication anyway. He could swear she blushed a bit.

  "Well, Hell, Lieutenant," she said. "I'd like to help, but I don't know anything more than I did the other night. My brother was a bastard and everybody knew it! But I don't have a clue who might've killed him."

  "She's got that right!" Ken thought. "The man was a right bastard. Still, it seems cold to hear his own sister say so."

  Aloud he said, "We haven't been able to find anyone that remembers seeing you at bingo on Tuesday."

  "So that means I did it?" Jeanine's voice had turned ugly.

  "It means," he smiled at her. "That we haven't verified your alibi yet, that's all."

  "There must've been a hundred people there. I know someone will remember me, I'm there every Tuesday. And why the hell would I want to shoot my own brother?"

  "You yourself told me he refused to give you a loan," he said.

  "Don't know why I asked him anyway," she replied sullenly. "Damn selfish jerk. You'd think a man would help his only sister out, but no, not Charles."

  "Why did you need a loan?" Ken asked.

  "I wanna get out of this shithole." Jeanine didn't bother to keep her voice down in case her boss might hear. "The pay's lousy, the hours stink, and nobody here likes me."

  "How much money did you ask him for, and what were you going to do with it?"

  "If I got some schooling so's I could do something else I could get a better job," she told him. "I used to be a secretary twenty years ago, but I don't know how to run them damn computers and that's all they care about anymore. I can answer phones and file things and be real friendly with the people who come in, but I can't write their frickin' letters on no PC."

  Jeanine drew breath to continue but Ken cut her off. "I see. What were you going to do after he turned you down?"

  "I'll just ask somebody else," she said. "Got a second cousin on Daddy's side of the family tree, he'll help me. It's just that I'll have to come up with gas money to get there, he lives in BFE, a good hour's drive, take me a tankful of gas. Charles was closer, and anyway he's got more money."

  "What about a bank? Or a student loan?" he asked.

  "Banks all want collateral, and I don't have anything except my car. They told me it's not worth enough. And the schools, they discriminate against me because of my age," she said. She sounded mad about it.

  "It sounds like you were running out of options," Ken said leadingly. If being friendly didn't work, he'd try making her angry.

  "I didn't do it!" Jeanine was practically shouti
ng now. "I told you, I was at the goddamned bingo hall. If I could've just hit on the big game I'd have won $500 and that would've been a down payment."

  Ken pushed. Maybe if she got mad enough she'd let something slip. "But that wouldn't have been enough to pay for the whole class, you'd still need more money."

  "Well, I damn sure didn't shoot Charles to get it!" Jeanine glared at him defiantly. "Talk to that little hussy he married, she's got motive. She probably gets more money than I do, anyway."

  "We're certainly looking at Mrs. Greene very closely," he said meaningfully. "Though if you'll remember she was talking to the police in her own home at the time of the murder."

  "So she didn't pull the trigger herself," Jeanine retorted. "Doesn't mean she wasn't behind it. Clarissa took him for everything she could when she divorced him, she might've decided this was the ultimate revenge."

  "We're taking that into consideration too," Ken said. "But she has a whole country club as an alibi."

  "And what about that grouchy neighbor, what's his face, the asshole that made a big fuss at the party. Charles says he's a real stick-in-the-mud, always complaining about something."

  "I've got him on my list, though you'd think he'd have shot Mr. Greene at the house," Ken replied.

  "Then there's that other salesman fellow, don't remember the name, Charles said he was trying to horn in on the Big Bixby Deal," Jeanine was really warmed up by now.

  "I've already talked to him. He was giving the secretary trouble when your brother was killed," Ken told her. "Anyone else you'd like to accuse?"

  "You're not taking me seriously!" Jeanine sounded hurt. "I'm not gonna sit here and listen to this bullshit, I'm going back to work."

  Jeanine spoiled her dramatic exit by catching her foot on a chair leg and nearly falling. She'd left her empty coffee cup on the table, too.

  * * * *

  Gracie was on her way to class when Tina stopped her in the hall.

  "I need to talk to you," Tina said.

  Gracie would've preferred not to be seen in Tina's company. "Sorry, I'm late for class," she said as she kept on walking.

  Tina caught up and grabbed Gracie's arm. "Give your brother a message for me," she said.

  Gracie stopped and shook Tina's hand off. "What is it?" she asked.

  "Just tell him he owes me, and he'd better pay up," Tina said in a menacing voice.

  "What is this, a gangster movie?" Gracie laughed, she couldn't help herself. People didn't really talk like that, did they?

  Tina made a disgusted face. "Just tell him, OK?"

  "Why should I?" Gracie retorted.

  "Because he's not at school today, and I want what he owes me," Tina replied.

  "What does he owe you?" The words were out of Gracie's mouth before she could stop them. Why did she care?

  "Nothin' you could pay. A couple of joints, if you must know," Tina said haughtily.

  "You should've gotten them before you did him any favors," Gracie said.

  "Yeah, well, I haven't done it yet, Miss Smarty Pants. Remind him of that when you talk to him."

  "I doubt very much that I'll see Justin in the next few days," Gracie said, starting to walk off again.

  Tina stayed where she was, but raised her voice so Gracie could hear. "You tell him if he wants me to say I went to lunch with him he has to pay me first."

  Gracie stopped and turned back to stare at Tina. "What? Why would he want you to say that?"

  "Beats the hell out of me," Tina replied. "He said he wanted to make Zack jealous – but I heard Zack took that Goody Two Shoes Carrie out to lunch Tuesday, I think Justin didn't wanna look like the loser he is."

  "Whatever. I'll tell him if I happen to see him." Gracie shook her head as she walked off. Zoo Time, indeed. She couldn't care less about their love lives.

  CHAPTER 14

  After listening to the sister's accusations Ken decided he did want to talk to the grumpy neighbor. Not that he really thought the man was a suspect, but a complainer often noticed details no one else did. He called, but got voice mail and left a message. The widow still wasn't answering her phone either.

  That pretty much left the Nutty Professor. He'd referred to himself as Greene's best friend, maybe he had some insights. Ken drove to the college and found the professor's office. The door was open so he knocked on the door frame to get the attention of the man sitting at a desk stacked high with papers.

  Bill was working on the computer and didn't even look up, just said, "Come on in and have a seat. Be with you in a sec."

  "Professor Conover? It's Lieutenant Freeman, we met the other night at Mr. Greene's home," Ken said.

  Bill looked up with a slightly surprised look on his face. "Oh, hi Lieutenant." He stood and offered his hand. "How're you doing?"

  "I'd be better if I could get a lead on this case," Ken replied. "I'm trying to get a handle on what kind of man Mr. Greene was, maybe that'll help me turn up a suspect. You said you were his best friend, what was he like?

  "Charles was a likeable guy in many ways," Bill told him as they both sat down. "But he did have a dark side."

  "Like what, exactly?" Ken asked.

  "For starters he liked pretty women," Bill explained. "He liked to get them in bed, then move on to the next one. It was a weakness, he couldn't seem to help himself."

  "I've heard he cheated on both wives," Ken commented. "Did he stick to single women?"

  "Absolutely not!" Bill replied. "He didn't care if he – or they - were married.

  Are you thinking maybe a jealous husband shot him? I suppose it's possible."

  "Sounds like that might be hard to track down. Do you happen to know the names of any of his lady friends?"

  "Lieutenant, I don't even think Charles knew their names!" Bill said. "They weren't friends, they were conquests."

  "Gotcha. You said 'for starters' - what else comprised his dark side?"

  "He liked to make a buck, any way he could. I doubt all his deals were legal, and he'd double-cross a partner if it made him more money. Understand Lieutenant, I'm reading between the lines here. Charles never told me the details of his schemes so I don't know anything specific. There are probably a thousand reasons why someone might want to get even with him."

  "That all jives with what I've learned about him. Tell me, do you own a gun, Professor?" Ken asked.

  "Yes, I do," Bill replied steadily. "A .38 caliber revolver. Charles bought a matched pair a few years ago, and gave one of them to me. I've got a class in 15 minutes, but I'd be happy to meet an officer at the house over my lunch break and turn it over to him for testing."

  "Thanks, I'll set that up," Ken said. "It's identical to Mr. Greene's? At least we'll know the make and model of the missing gun. Just out of curiosity Professor, what is it exactly that you do in that locked lab?"

  "The easy answer is that it's a bunch of 'Science Guy' stuff," Bill said. "Do you want the specific details?"

  "No, they wouldn't mean anything to me, I don't have the background to understand them," Ken said. "I understand your need for privacy, but it's a little hard to believe you'd stay in there for hours at a time."

  "Do you think I snuck out somehow?" Bill asked. "Rita was right there at the information counter, she'd have seen me leave."

  "She's got work to do, she doesn't have to stay at her desk. But I had an office ask around and no one remembers seeing you during that afternoon."

  "Because I was in the lab!" Bill replied with a smile. He shifted in his chair so he could work his hand into his pants pocket. He pulled out a key ring and unlocked a desk drawer. Then he took out a thick notebook, flipped through it, and handed it to Ken.

  "Here's my lab notes from the Tuesday in question," he said.

  Ken took the book and looked over the page. Conover had been right, a bunch of science stuff Ken couldn't make heads or tails of. The details of each experiment began with a time, the last entry being 4:30. Ken idly flipped through the notebook, but all the pages looked the
same to him.

  "It certainly looks like you were busy," Ken said, handing the book back. "Thanks for your time, Professor."

  "If I think of anything in particular about any of Charles' deals, I'll let you know Lieutenant."

  George Thompson, the grumpy neighbor, returned Ken's call. George had been showing a house nearby and suggested they meet there so Ken drove over. George was a short, heavy man in his mid 50's. He wore expensive casual clothes tailored and coordinated to make them look them look elegant, even on his squat frame. The house was in an expensive neighborhood; Ken didn't inquire as to the asking price, he knew it was out of his price range. He was surprised to find it fully furnished.

  "I thought you said the owners had moved out, didn't they take their furniture with them?" Ken asked.

  "It's staged for sale," George replied.

  "Staged? Like set dressing?"

  "Exactly!" George said happily. "I rent the furniture, and keep a collection of accessories - vases and artwork and such – so that each house seems fresh."

  "Doesn't that get expensive?" Ken asked.

  "It's well worth it to make the sale. It's easier for people to imagine living in a house if they're not looking at four bare walls and a carpet," George explained.

  "Well, I guess you know your job," Ken admitted. "And I guess you know I've come to talk to you about Mr. Greene's murder. You said you were home all day Tuesday but didn't see or hear anything. You've obviously got a good eye for detail; now that you've had some time to think about it have you remembered anything?"

  "I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. My house is situated next to the side of Charles' house that includes the garage, which extends out from the front of his house. So all I can really see is the driveway and front lawn. There's a privacy fence between our two back yards, and it does its job well. There's a couple of knotholes you can peek through, but not from inside the house of course."

  That statement gave Ken an idea. Sometimes in this business if you threw out a wild accusation you'd learn a lot from the response. "Mrs. Greene is a pretty young woman. Did you peek at her while she was out for a swim? You're often home during the day, maybe you'd meet her out there?"