by Jack Parker
* * * *
Ken Freeman sat at his desk, glaring at the pile of file folders stacked on the left-hand corner. This was the part of being a detective that he really hated. Waiting. Waiting on reports from fellow policemen, waiting on phone calls from various and sundry people of interest or experts with information that might either prove or disprove his current working theory on a case. It took time to get bank and phone records, even in the computer age. In the meantime he couldn't do anything with any of these cases. He either didn't have a suspect, or couldn't (yet) prove their guilt. Every case spent some time in this stack, but right now there were too many that had been there too long. With a sigh he slid the bottom folder out of the stack and began leafing through it, hoping to see something he hadn't before. The phone interrupted him.
"Lieutenant, this is Officer Marshall," the caller identified himself. "Found something interesting about that old lady that died, the Redmond broad."
Ken winced at that word. "Yeah, Marshall, what've you got?"
"Place called Harvey's Stamps in a strip mall near the Interstate," Marshall began.
"That's a long way from Mrs. Redmond's residence," Ken remarked. "What were you doing way out there?"
"Couldn't find anything on her at any of the jewelry stores or hock shops near her house. Guess you were thinking that an old lady wouldn't drive far, that's why you wanted me to look in the area. But there ain't many stamp places in the whole city, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to check 'em all out."
"Good idea," Ken said. He didn't personally know Officer Marshall. The man seemed to have initiative, but if he wanted to get anywhere in the force he'd have to learn to speak in complete sentences. And learn to speak more respectfully.
"Guy that runs it recognized the picture of the Redmond broad. Got him to look in his records and turns out he bought a big stamp collection offa her a few months ago." Marshall chuckled. "You'll like this part, Lieutenant. That was the day after the old man's funeral."
Ken shook his head regretfully. "So she pinched it the moment she could, and sold it. How much did she get?"
"$11,782," Marshall replied. "I got a copy of the check; thought you might want it."
"Great, yeah, can't hurt. I presume the collection's been sold by now?"
"Most of it's been parted out, and the rest scattered around the store. Fellow said he didn't keep track of each individual stamp. Said they sell better that way, hard to sell a whole collection."
"Good work, Marshall. Bring the copy in so I can check with the bank. I sure don't look forward to telling the sister her brother's stamp collection is gone."
Ken hung the phone up, closed the open folder and slid it back under the stack. He dug through the files to find the Redmond case and made a note. Marshall had given him interesting news yet once again the timing seemed off, at least in regard to the woman's murder. If she'd been killed within a week or so of getting that check it would've made more sense. She could've told someone about it, or maybe whoever took her to Harvey's knew why she'd gone there. Kill her and take the money, or perhaps they stole the money first and killed her when she discovered the loss. Always assuming she'd cashed the check.
But it didn't make sense as a motive for the woman's death several months later. Whether she spent it at the mall or used it to pay living expenses, it wasn't likely that there was much left at this point. Most checks were only good for 90 days so she would have had to cash it long before now, whether she deposited it in her bank account or got green money. Possibly her health had been poor enough that she hadn't had the chance to get to the mall and someone had accidentally run across the stash of cash and his aforementioned theory made sense. Then again, the Feds were notified of all transactions $10,000 and over; he'd think that they'd have checked her out whether she took cash or deposited it in her account.
He made notes to himself to call the woman's bank to see what she'd done with the check. He didn't want to get involved with the Federal government if he didn't have to, and there was no reason for it in this instance. Having the file open he began looking through the pages, as before with the faint hope that something might jump out at him. It didn't.
Mentally he reviewed what he knew to date. Poor sons, two daughters fairly well off and one rich, and a hated step-niece. All benefitted from her death mainly in that she wouldn't have the chance to spend any of her inheritance or Trust funds. The validity of the Trust was academic in this circumstance, as she would've gotten some of the money either way. Her death could be a terrible accident but he didn't think so, unless the cookies had been intended for Jason Wheeler or Karen Stubblefield and she'd somehow gotten them by mistake. Even then it was a case of intended murder that happened to kill the wrong person.
Ken sighed loudly. There was Gracie's picture of Robbie's supposed Will, leaving everything to her youngest son, Jason. That could be motive for murder, but whose? Jason might want to hurry up the inheritance, and he could certainly use the money. Then again, his brother or sisters (or sister-in-law) might want to cut him out of the Will permanently. He'd checked with Robbie's bank and Jason had opened her safety deposit box very shortly after her death; he'd claimed the Will wasn't there and that he didn't know where it was, but he'd been nervous about something. At the time Ken had thought the Will would show Jason as the sole beneficiary and he feared that would be construed as motive. But if Loretta Logan had stolen it from him, that might explain his nerves. If true, had she taken it to protect him or blackmail him? He just couldn't think of a legal way to retrieve that Will from the woman's nightstand.
* * * *
"Reverend Davies, I'm Meredith Rodgers, John Redmond's sister."
The portly preacher laughed quietly. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Rodgers; but Mr. Davies will do. Here in the Baptist Church we don't use fancy titles."
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Meredith said. "Clearly I was thinking of some other denomination; I'm not a member of the Baptist Church."
Mr. Davies offered a kindly smile. "No offense taken; after all you were only trying to be respectful. I do remember John saying that he felt like he'd failed to bring you into the fold. Please do sit down, Ms. Rodgers." He gestured to an uncomfortable-looking straight-back chair.
Meredith sat. "Faith is a very personal issue, Mr. Davies, and there are a great many churches to choose from. My brother taught me to think independently, but then couldn't understand why I wouldn't follow his footsteps in this area."
"He was only trying to save your soul," Davies told her gently.
Inside Meredith was fuming. This had been a long-running argument with her brother, but she did her best to appear calm. "Isn't that my business?" she asked mildly. Before the preacher could turn this into a philosophical discussion she stated her business. "Mr. Davies, I've come to ask you about burying my brother."
Davies had an irritated look on his face, not liking being interrupted when trying to bring another sheep into the fold. "I believe Mrs. Redmond had the body cremated."
"Yes, she did," Meredith confirmed. "Frankly, I was surprised. I thought burial was important to your faith; something about the Resurrection."
"It is strongly preferred," Davies told her. "A body must be intact to be resurrected. But God will not penalize your brother for his wife's choice."
"Sounds like the Egyptian Book of the Dead," she muttered under her breath. "His wife's choice? Did John ever talk to you about burial and cremation?"
Davies looked upward, perhaps to aid his memory or perhaps for Divine guidance. "No, I don't think…wait! I do think I remember him telling me a few years ago that he'd purchased a burial plan; he was doing some Estate planning at the time. He purchased one for Roberta as well, so they could spend eternity next to each other."
"Really!" Meredith exclaimed. I'll be damned if I let him spend eternity next to that bitch, she thought. "But wasn't Mrs. Redmond a member of the church too? Why would she choose cremation?"
"Yes, she was," Davies said. He shook his head sadly.
"I have no idea why she would make that choice. Clearly it troubles you."
"Only because I didn't think that was what John wanted," she replied. "Would that preclude your saying a prayer over the grave?"
"Not at all, and I'd be most happy to do so. Will you want a graveside service?"
"I'd like to do it for John, but it's been so long that no one's really interested," she said. "I find that sad. But I feel strongly that I should bury the cremains and I know he would've wanted someone from the church to say some words."
"Very commendable. When would you like to do this?"
"Well, I don't actually have possession of the urn yet," Meredith said rather sheepishly. "But Mrs. Redmond's lawyer has told me that he thinks her kids will let me have it."
"Then by all means call me when you're ready. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Meredith started to say no, but reconsidered. "You mentioned Estate planning. Did John say anything about that? I mean besides the burial plans."
The preacher chuckled. "As a matter of fact, he did indicate that he was going to remember the church in his Will. But then a lot of people say that and few actually do so. I prefer to assume that their intentions were good and let it go at that."
Meredith smiled. "He probably just forgot. His memory wasn't very good the last few years. Thank you, Mr. Davies. I'll be in touch as soon as I can arrange the burial."
CHAPTER 80
Tuesday
"She did what?" Gracie whispered. It was Tuesday morning and she'd approached the desk at the teacher's beckon.
"Swiped John's stamp collection and sold it the day after his funeral," Meredith repeated her earlier statement.
"How much did she get?" Gracie asked.
"Eleven grand, but that's not the point."
"I know it's not," Gracie reassured her. "But since Ken can prove that then surely the judge will make her Estate pay you half the money."
Meredith sighed. "I suppose that really is best. I'm not exactly sure what I'd do with half a stamp collection anyway. It's just the idea; it wasn't hers to sell." Though they'd kept their voices low other students were looking at them, clearly wondering what they were talking about. "We can discuss this later, Gracie. Please take your seat," she said in a loud voice.
Gracie soundlessly mouthed the words, "At your house," then turned and sat down.
As usual, she met her friends at the bottom of the steps after school had let out for the day. "I need to talk to Ms. Rodgers today, who wants to go with me?"
"Oh, Gracie, there's this fabulous pair of pants on sale at Hot Topic…," Cheryl said breathlessly.
"Gee, Gracie, I'm sorry but Chris got the carb kit and I promised I'd help him with it today," Kelly said. "What's up?"
"Ken called her to tell her that Robbie sold John's stamp collection the day after his funeral," Gracie told them. "She's understandably upset. Besides, I thought I'd fill her in on what little I've learned."
"I'll go," Shawna said.
"But who'll take me to the mall?" Cheryl whined.
"I can take you to the mall, Cheryl," Kelly said. "It's only a couple of miles from Chris' house. But I can't guarantee I'll be able to pick you up when you're done."
"That's because she's never done shopping," Shawna said, but she grinned to take the sting out of the words.
"If you don't mind hanging out awhile we can meet you there when we're done," Gracie told Cheryl.
Cheryl brightened up. "No problem! Call me when you head my way." She turned to face Kelly. "C'mon, let's go."
Shawna watched thoughtfully as Kelly and Cheryl walked off. "That just plain looks wrong."
"Why? He's just dropping her off at the mall," Gracie said as they started toward her own car.
"Well, yeah, I know. It's just that I wouldn't want any rumors to get started, and you know how easy that is around here."
Gracie stopped to look at her friend. "Kelly and Cheryl? No one would believe that one!"
"Maybe not," Shawna allowed. "But he sure hasn't been spending a lot of time with us lately."
"He's entitled to have guy friends, too," Gracie said. "Remember that he and Chris were friends before Kelly and I started dating. And I can't really blame him for not wanting to help me snoop around – you didn't want to either, as I recall."
Shawna put her hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. It just looked weird to see him with another girl, that's all. Don't read anything into it."
The girls stopped for ice cream before heading to the teacher's house, only partly in order to give her time to close up after school and get home herself. Meredith was just getting out of her car when they drove up so they followed her inside, chatting about school events as she put papers away and got settled at the dining room table.
"So, Shawna, did Gracie tell you what I learned from Lt. Freeman?" Meredith asked.
"Something about your brother's stamp collection," Shawna said, suddenly uncertain of the details.
"Yes. Robbie filched it and sold it – the day after his funeral."
"You're kidding!" Shawna said. "Then again, why doesn't that surprise anyone?"
"It certainly didn't surprise me," Meredith said. "But she made one big mistake."
Gracie couldn't resist finishing the story. "After John's death the stamp collection was Estate property, and Robbie didn't have the legal right to sell it. Meredith can get half the money from the Estate!"
"Is that good or bad?" Shawna inquired. "I mean, it's always nice to get money but did you just really, really want the stamps?"
Meredith held her hand out palm down, rocking it from side to side to indicate both good and bad. "In some way I'd have liked to have it, since it meant so much to John. I have some fond memories of sitting on a chair next to him while he messed with the stamps and told me about them. Not that I really understood his fascination with all those little pieces of paper." She laughed a little. "So it's probably best all 'round, and I only wish I could've seen the look on Robbie's face when she found out she had to give me half the money."
"She'd have freaked out, I'm sure," Gracie said, laughing. "It'd be hard to tell if she was madder because you found out she'd lied about him not having it, or because she had to give some of the money back."
"Well, it's a moot point now," Meredith said. "She died thinking she'd gotten away with it, and her kids will be angry about the money too. What's up with the lieutenant taking my fingerprints? He was pretty closed-mouthed about it."
"They found a fingerprint they couldn't identify on that plate of cookies," Gracie replied. "It turned out to be Jason's."
"But that doesn't really mean a whole lot," Shawna put in. "He says – and we all think this sounds true – that he knocked the plate off the nightstand when he realized his mother was dead, and picked up the cookies out of habit. Even if he did hand her the plate of cookies, anyone could've bought them."
"I can see that," Meredith nodded. "Often peoples' first instinct is to back away from the dead. It probably comes from an ancient fear of catching whatever killed them. So he bumps the table and the plate falls. Yeah, I'd buy that for a dollar."
Gracie made a wry face. "Mom suggested that perhaps he had given her the cookies, and had mixed in a few that had nuts in 'em. So he dumped the plate on the floor to pick out the other nutty cookies."
"Oh, that's a good idea!" Shawna said. "It matches up with what Ken said, that there were crumbs on the floor and fibers on the cookies."
"Then, what? He ate the evidence?" Meredith asked with a smile.
"Not a chance," Gracie said firmly. "He's allergic to nuts just like his mother. So is Karen Stubblefield. I actually think he's telling the truth, at least about this."
"Really," Meredith stated. "Well, that explains why Lt. Freeman asked if I had any allergies. I guess he's wondering if the cookies were meant for someone else?"
"Yeah, and it's got Karen terrified," Shawna said. "She thinks Charlie was trying to kill her!"
Meredi
th shook her head. "I can't imagine that. Of course I don't know them well, don't have any idea what their marriage is like. But frankly, I don't see Charlie having that much initiative."
"He struck me as a basically honest man, but one loyal enough to his mother that he was willing to overlook her dishonesties," Gracie said.
"Sounds like a good description," Meredith agreed. "That would leave Jason as the other possible mark. That could be about the money, or rather eliminating him so the other three or four could get more money; the perp might've done it now, thinking that with Robbie still alive the police wouldn't associate it with John's Estate."
"Huh?" Shawna asked, looking confused. Then her face cleared as she thought it through. "Oh, I get it. 'Now' as in Robbie wouldn't be dead, so she'd still inherit."
"Right. Though I'd think they'd have to be particularly clever about killing off the remaining siblings, or it would become obvious," Gracie said.
"Or maybe they wanted it to look connected to the Estate," Meredith added. "When all along it was simply cheaper than a divorce. No wonder poor Karen is frightened!"
"Cheryl says maybe the killer got scared because you and I were there," Gracie told the teacher. "They threw the cookies in the trash and Robbie found 'em later and ate 'em."
Meredith made a disgusted face. "That might not be as gross as it sounds, if they were in a bag on top of the icky stuff. Where is Cheryl today?"
"Shopping," Gracie and Shawna said in unison, then giggled.
Meredith chuckled knowingly. She'd spent too many years teaching high school not to understand the allure of that ancient pastime. "And Kelly?"
"Working on Chris' car," Gracie said.
Meredith nodded her understanding. "Bored with the sleuthing?"
"He's helped us plenty!" Gracie defended his honor. "Oh, that reminds me! It was the 'sleuthing' that did, neither he nor Shawna…" Gracie directed a fierce but mock glare in her friend's direction. "They wouldn't help me snoop around. But Cheryl did, and boy did we hit pay dirt!"
Shawna shrugged, unaffected by the gibe. She'd been perfectly content to merely hear about the results of the snooping.