by Jack Parker
"I only said the lieutenant might have thought that, not that I did," Clarissa said hastily.
"But that's exactly what I'm talking about!" Jennifer responded. "People are gonna think I'm guilty until the police find the real killer."
"I'd love to talk about this some more," Gracie said. "But I'm starving and that pizza smells good! Can we eat while we talk?"
They spent a few minutes getting napkins and drinks, then pulled four chairs around a small table and sat down to eat.
"Justin," Jennifer said. "I know we haven't always gotten along very well, but, I mean, I want to tell you that I understand how you must've felt. If I hadn't had Cindy I'd have gone crazy living with your father! I've been thinking about it, and I can see how, like, frustrating it would have been for you. He never had time for anyone but himself."
Justin mumbled, "Thanks," and took a big bite of pizza to cover his discomfort.
"So now we know that it wasn't the same person that shot at Dad all three times," Gracie said. "Where does that leave us?"
"It means we don't care where anyone was during the morning, just from lunchtime on," Clarissa said.
"Well, we know Justin was in school," Gracie said.
"Never thought I'd be glad to have been sent to the principal!" Justin laughed a little weakly.
"And I was in school and Clarke's teacher vouched for him being in class," Gracie continued. "Mom and Susan were playing golf, and Bill was hiding out in his lab."
"I was at Cindy's until about 2:30," Jennifer chimed in. "I came home and found the mess Justin left and called 911. Then I called Cindy and she came right over."
Everyone nodded. Gracie wasn't 100% convinced that this proved Cindy's innocence, but didn't want to say it in front of Jennifer. Cindy had just as much motive, but if she'd done it then Jennifer was at the very least covering for her.
"That leaves Aunt Jeanine," Gracie said. "She has motive but – oh! I forgot to tell you that Lieutenant Freeman has talked to Dad's lawyer about the will!"
"No matter how much I get, it's another nail in my coffin," Jennifer said gloomily.
"You mean you don't know?" Clarissa asked in surprise.
"Charles just said he'd take care of me," she replied. "I know you think I'm, like, dumb for not asking, but I knew better. I learned a long time ago not to, you know, ask guys how much they'll give you. You take what they offer, though there are ways to get them to pony up a little bit more. Besides, I never thought it would matter."
"I can see that. I've never been able to get away with it, but I've known lots of girls that did. Is Jeanine really in your father's will?" Clarissa said.
"He just said she won't like what she gets," Gracie told her. "I guess that means she is in the will, though."
"Actually, I find that a little surprising," Clarissa said. "She was making such a fuss about needing a loan, and I don't know why she'd ask Charles. He'd told her years ago he wouldn't help her anymore. I assumed he wouldn't have left her any money. Knowing him I thought he'd probably just told her that to be mean."
"However much it is, it won't be enough for her," Gracie said. "What I'm more concerned about is that the lieutenant hasn't been able to prove she was really at the bingo hall."
"Jeanine will gripe about the time and effort she has to make just to attend the reading of the will! She wouldn't go out of her way to kill someone even if she got a million dollars for it." Clarissa said. "Oh, that reminds me. I need to call her about the funeral."
"Maybe that's what she's counting on us thinking. Just this once she actually did something to help herself," Gracie said. "I hope she didn't, but if you look at it like the police would she's a better suspect than Jennifer." She grinned to take the sting out of the remark.
Jennifer laughed and said, "Yeah, she is, isn't she?"
"I hate to say it, but Clay's alibi hasn't been verified yet, either," Clarissa said.
"But Clay wouldn't have a reason to kill Dad," Gracie said.
"I certainly wouldn't like to think he might have done it," her mother said. "But I suppose the police think Clay would want to get his hands on your inheritance, children of mine."
"But the lieutenant said he'd checked out everyone's financial stuff and Clay's in good shape," Gracie protested.
"Just because someone has money doesn't mean they wouldn't like to get more," Clarissa told her. "It's pretty thin as motives go, but I wish he'd tell me where he really was. It makes him look guilty."
"We're forgetting something here," Gracie told them. "Whoever it was had to have Dad's gun. How did they get it?"
"Took it away from him," Justin put in. "I left it next to him when I got outta there so he must've had it with him."
"Let's think about that," Gracie said. "Dad was unconscious, he wakes up and finds the house all torn up. He knows Justin shot at him, probably figured out the 'burglary', he's gonna be pissed. The gun's on the floor beside him. He wouldn't want to leave it in the house and risk Justin getting hold of it again. So yeah, you're right, he would've taken it with him."
"I wish I had taken it with me," Justin said. "Then none of this would've happened."
"We don't know that for sure," Gracie told him.
"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Justin retorted. "But thanks, anyway."
"Well, I do hope it helps," she replied. "But I really mean it. If Dad had, say, put the gun in the glove box of his car and someone broke into the car and found it and they had some reason to be mad at him..."
"Then they'd shoot him just because they had a gun. But if they didn't have one they might just pick a fight," Justin finished for her.
You could almost see the light bulb go on over Gracie's head. "Do you think that's what happened in the parking garage?"
"That would mean they knew there was a gun in the glove box," Clarissa said. "There weren't any signs the car had been broken into, either."
"Aren't there ways to get inside a locked car?" Gracie asked.
"Yeah, but you have to have a special tool and know what you're doing," Justin told her. "I know some guys that break into cars to steal stuff. To, uh, get money for smoke."
"Maybe he threw a rock through the window to get in and get the gun. Then he took the rock back so it would look like he'd shot the window out," Gracie suggested.
"Get real!" Justin said. "You'd climb through the back window of a car to get to the glove box? If he broke a window it would've been the passenger one."
"Duh. Sorry, I wasn't thinking," she admitted. "It would also mean he'd have to know the gun was in the glove box. And it was someone who had a grudge against Dad."
"What if the gun was just, like, lying on the seat?" asked Jennifer. "Charles wasn't always good about putting it away when he'd had it out."
"Same thing," Justin told her. "Well, OK, at least he could see it on the seat, but he still wouldn't crawl through a bunch of broken glass to get it."
"So either the killer is an accomplished thief or it's a Locked Car Mystery," Gracie said, laughing.
"Looks that way," Justin agreed. "Either he jimmied the door open without setting off the alarm, or he had to have somehow gotten the gun before he shot at Dad."
"What we don't know is where Dad went after he left the house and before he got to the office," Gracie mused. "Justin, what time did you leave?"
"I dunno," he said. "I saw Tina when I got back to school and talked to her, and that made me late getting back to class."
Gracie mumbled to herself as she did the math. "So you must've left the house around 11:45. Mr. Wilkins said Dad was in the office about 12:45. That gives him an hour to wake up and figure out what to do and drive downtown."
"He might have stopped somewhere to eat lunch," Jennifer suggested. "I don't know if he had breakfast or not, he didn't eat it at home that morning."
"That would explain the coffee spilled on the seat," Clarissa said. "He ate breakfast on the road."
"Dad would've cleaned the seat, though," G
racie said stubbornly.
"Only if he'd noticed," Clarissa replied. "I know him, he would've been all hyped up over the presentation and might not have been as careful as he usually was."
"If he grabbed some lunch between here and there that would mean the killer had a chance to get the gun then," Gracie said. "But we're still stuck with how he knew it was there and how he got it."
"Anyone gonna eat that last slice?" Justin asked. No one objected, so he took it.
Gracie grinned impishly at her mother. "If I were planning things, I wouldn't leave it to chance. I'd bring my own gun. Then if I had the chance to take one from my victim I'd do it. I'd get rid of it after the murder and no one would be the wiser."
Clarissa rolled her eyes at Gracie. "That still leaves us with how he got your father's gun. Plus you're assuming it was planned. It didn't have to be, you know."
"Someone who had a reason to kill Dad just happened to find his gun and shoot at him not once, but twice. That seems pretty hard to believe," Gracie said.
"Not if he were really pissed at Dad," Justin said. "When he missed the first time he followed him out to the spook house and tried again."
Gracie shook her head rapidly to clear away her confusion. "I don't think we've gotten much of anywhere."
Clarissa stood up and tossed their used napkins into a box, closed both and handed them to Justin. "Here, put these in the trash, please. Then we need to take care of some unpleasant business."
Justin's eyes pleaded with his mother not to call the police, but he took the boxes and walked around the side of the house anyway. Clarissa waited until Justin had come back before picking up her cell phone.
"I'll just go upstairs and get Charles' suits out so we can decide which one to, um, use," Jennifer said. She disappeared inside the house.
Clarissa called the police station, but of course Lieutenant Freeman had already gone home for the evening. She managed to convince them to give her his private number without giving them any details. She told him only that they'd solved the burglary and he said he'd be there in thirty minutes.
Justin was obviously nervous. Gracie noticed he kept looking longingly toward the pool house. She supposed she couldn't blame him for wanting to "relax" before the lieutenant got there. She managed to turn her back to him and signal her mother by the simple gesture of miming smoking.
Clarissa understood immediately. "Justin, I know you're frightened," she told him. "But it'll only make things worse if you're stoned when the lieutenant gets here. I know it'll be tough, but I think you should give me your marijuana. All of it."
"I suppose you're gonna flush it," he said, somewhat listlessly. "Couldn't I just promise not to use it? Or, I could call Zack and give it to him."
"Do you want to add drug possession to your charges?" she asked him. "And I'm certainly not going to allow you to give it to Zack. I know he smokes it too, but that doesn't mean I approve of you giving it to him."
Justin hung his head in defeat. "OK, I guess you're right. I'm scared enough as it is, I don't want to make it any worse. I'll go get what's in my room – but there's more in the pool house, you can get that."
Clarissa agreed and Justin went into the house. Gracie said, "It's in the first-aid kit, Mom."
They met again in the den and Justin handed over his stash, though not without a sigh. Clarissa left the room and Gracie thought she saw Justin flinch as they heard the toilet flush down the hall.
* * * *
Ken Freeman wasn't particularly happy about going back to work after dinner on Friday night, but Ms. Stewart had said enough that he was willing to go talk to her. He certainly didn't seem to be getting anywhere on the Greene case, and it would be nice to get some answers. Experience told him she only thought she had any, but you never knew.
Ms. Stewart answered the door and invited him in. When he asked what she was doing there she told him she'd collected clothes in which to bury her ex-husband, and pointed to a shopping bag on the hall table. She refused to answer any of his questions, instead inviting him into the den. Mrs. Greene and Gracie were waiting when he got there, and the kid, Justin, came in a moment later and sat down in a chair at the edge of the conversation area. The three women looked at Justin expectantly.
"Uh, I need to tell you something," Justin began.
Ken usually preferred to stand during questioning, it tended to intimidate the other person. This time he sensed that that wouldn't be necessary, and that indeed it would be better to present a more friendly facade. He took a chair that faced Justin and still gave him a good view of the others as well. "OK, Justin. I'm listening."
"I'm the one that did it," Justin said. The words began tumbling from his mouth as if he couldn't keep them inside any longer. "I was here on lunch, Dad came home and was yelling at me and I just couldn't take it anymore and I had the gun in my pocket so I fired it. I didn't mean to hurt him, but he fell over and didn't move and I was so scared, I thought I'd killed him. I didn't know what to do and then I thought I'd make it look like he'd surprised a burglar and no one would suspect me. But I didn't shoot at him later, swear to God!"
Ken hadn't been sure what to expect, but it hadn't been this confession! Was the kid telling the truth? It hardly seemed likely he'd cover for the step-mother, they didn't seem close at all. The fact that he wasn't confessing to the other two attempts made it seem more likely he was being truthful about this one.
"I know you didn't shoot your father, Justin," Ken said in a fatherly tone. "And I believe you that you weren't trying to hurt him when you fired the gun. Can you explain to me why you did it?"
"I dunno, I just wanted to make him shut up," Justin replied.
"The two of you were involved in an argument, is that right?"
"Yeah."
"Did he hit you?"
"No," Justin said. "Dad didn't hit me. He didn't have to, he'd just hit you with nasty words."
"Did you feel threatened by his behavior?" Ken asked next.
Justin thought about that one for a moment, finally admitting, "Yeah, I did. He was so mad, I didn't know what he'd do."
"What was the fight about?"
Justin ducked his head. "I'd, uh, taken some money from his desk. He found out and called me a thief and a liar. I didn't know how he'd known, but Gracie told me he'd set a trap."
Ken looked at Gracie, who was sitting quietly on the couch but looking like she was about to burst.
"I overheard Dad talking about it to Jennifer, at the party," she said. "I got to wondering why he'd even tell Jennifer unless he wasn't sure who was taking the money." She explained about the carefully-positioned paper clip. "So if he found some of the money was missing and the clip was in place he'd know it was Jennifer, otherwise it was Justin."
"He never told me about a trap," Justin said.
Though he'd like to know, Ken refrained from asking Mrs. Greene if she'd also been in the habit of raiding the piggy bank. "So you tore up the house and took the other items and tried to make it look like there was a physical fight here in the den."
"Yeah. I hid the stuff in the pool house, Mom's got it now."
Ms. Stewart indicated a lumpy pillowcase on the coffee table. "It was right where Gracie said it would be."
Ken got up to look in the makeshift bag. Cash (he didn't count it), jewelry, everything reported stolen appeared to be there, except the gun. "Where Gracie said it was?" he asked.
"Gracie was the one who figured it out, Lieutenant," Ms. Stewart told him.
"How'd you do it, Gracie?"
She explained about the torn pocket and smelly smear, and how her wandering mind had thought of putting a smoking gun in that pocket. She told him that, knowing about the trap, she'd felt sure that her father would've been angry over the missing cash and put the pieces together from there. Including the alibi that Justin had tried to buy, which explained the time frame. Finally she'd reasoned that he'd want to hide it someplace close, and had looked in the pool house.
"Well don
e, young lady!" Ken applauded. "You were absolutely right, you did know something that needed to be put into context. You did a good job of fitting all the pieces together."
Gracie blushed, but said "Thank you."
Ken motioned for Justin to stand up. He walked over and inspected the pocket, bending to sniff the smear in question. "It's a little faint by now, but it's definitely GSR. The lab can confirm that."
"Are you going to arrest me?" Justin asked in a quiet voice. He looked like he might faint.
"Sit down, Sport," Ken told him as he did the same. "I'll have to run this by the DA and I can't promise what he'll say, but I'm not going to arrest you right now. He might well consider it a case of self-defense, or possibly just illegal discharge of a weapon. The fact that you voluntarily came forward with the facts will help. And I'm quite sure your family won't press charges."
"Would it help, Lieutenant, if we get some counseling for Justin?" Ms. Stewart asked.
"Yes, it might," Ken told her. "I know you don't want to wait, but I can't talk to the DA until Monday morning. I can't say 'don't worry', but I will say 'don't worry too much'. Now I have one more question – what did you do with the gun?"
"Oh, he left it on the floor beside Dad," Gracie put in, then realized the question had been meant for her brother. Justin nodded in agreement.
"I think it's pretty safe to assume that Mr. Greene took the gun with him when he left the house," Ken said. "Which, as I'm sure you've already realized," he nodded at Gracie, "means whoever killed him somehow got the gun from him. Though I can't see that that puts us any closer to knowing who it was."
CHAPTER 20
It was Saturday afternoon and everyone was back at the Greene house, sitting on the patio once more. With Clarissa's help Jennifer and Cindy had fixed a sort of pot luck lunch, nothing fancy but plenty of food for the guests. Once again it was laid out on a table in front of the patio doors. This time people mostly just grazed, no one seemed to feel much like eating.
Clarke had come home from school for the family gathering; he'd stay through the following weekend. Clarissa hated for him to miss classes, but understood that he'd want to be there. Cindy had brought a small bag with her the previous evening and was officially staying at the house, though she said she wouldn't move all her things until they knew what was in Charles' will. She said she'd hate to get all moved in and then find out they both had to move elsewhere.