Tip a Hat to Murder

by Elaine L. Orr

  Skelly put the objects on the large, stainless steel examining table. Elizabeth took two latex gloves from a box on the wall and reached for the hat.

  “So, you do expect DNA evidence? Do you want me to send it to Springfield for testing?”

  “I don’t expect much, but it occurred to me that Ben usually didn’t wear a hat indoors. In the security video he put it on at about six-thirty." She held up the plastic bag and turned the hat over. "I figured he might leave soon, but maybe that hat was important to him for a particular reason.”

  “Humph.” Skelly watched her pull the hat from its plastic bag. “I guess you made it to chief because you think about clues.”

  “In professional law enforcement, we usually say evidence.”

  Elizabeth fingered the hat and reached under the bill to see if it had been separated and re-glued. It hadn’t been. She ran her fingers around the hat band.

  The band was loosely stitched to the hat itself. Except in one place. She ran her finger in it, and pulled out a key roughly the size used for an apartment mail box.

  She smiled broadly. “Bingo.”

  Skelly pushed a shock of hair from his forehead. “Well, I’ll be damned. Another one of those clue things.”

  Elizabeth grinned broadly. “Yep.” She sombered. “Not that I know what it goes to. But the security tape shows him putting the hat on right before he was killed. I thought he was preparing to leave when Nick and Marti came, but I bet he was protecting this key.”

  “It tells you he had something important somewhere.”

  She held it by the edges and nodded. “And now I need to locate a lock.” She took a plastic evidence bag from a trouser pocket and dropped the key in it.

  Skelly shook his head. “Wish I’d found it earlier. I check pockets and even body cavities. Never a hat band.”

  “If it hadn’t been on the floor near him when he died, I wouldn’t have thought of it.” She studied the key in its see-through bag. “Bus lockers had keys like this, but the lockers in town are newer.”

  Skelly nodded. “Bet it’s to something hidden in his apartment.”

  “Could be anywhere, but I’ll start there, and in the diner.”

  “You and the guys searched the diner, right?”

  “And the apartment. But we were searching for stuff, not secret hiding places for stuff.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ELIZABETH WAS ON HER phone before she reached the basement elevator. "Sergeant. Find Calderone and Mahan. Have them meet me at the diner. Ask them to bring a fingerprint kit."

  She had searched part of the space between the counter and pass-through window before Calderone and Mahan arrived.

  She held up the plastic bag with the key. "Hope it has prints."

  Calderone placed the bag on the counter and put on gloves as he extracted the key by its edges. "So small. Can't be more than a partial."

  Elizabeth nodded. "And even that could be smudged."

  "Gotta try," Mahan said.

  The three of them stood silently as Calderone spread a small amount of black dust on one side of the key, then gently placed plastic film over it and pulled.

  "Smeared," Mahan said.

  Elizabeth could not hide her disappointment, but tried to stay upbeat. "We'll see what the other side shows. Maybe we’ll at least be able to compare it to Ben's."

  Mahan studied the key as Calderone worked. "Not all that common."

  "But not unique." Calderone turned it over. "You'd think there'd be a number on it or something."

  The room darkened as a cloud moved over the sun. Elizabeth walked to the light switch by the door to flick it. "Rain coming. I want us each to do a section, then we'll switch. Every part of the diner has to be searched three times."

  As she looked around, Elizabeth unconsciously placed her left hand on that hip, the right one on her holster. "Mahan, how about starting out here? When Calderone finishes checking for prints, he and I will take separate halves of the kitchen."

  Elizabeth strode into the kitchen and gazed around. She had searched obvious places. It was time for the less noticeable ones. She got on her hands and knees to peer under the stainless steel refrigerator.

  Calderone's voice came from behind her. "Let me move it back, Chief."

  Elizabeth rose and dusted off her knees. "Thanks."

  She stood next to the side-by-side refrigerator and grasped the freezer door. She was more than willing to let Calderone do most of the shoving. Brawn could do the heavy work anytime, in her book.

  Calderone grunted as he shoved. “No useable prints on the other side of the key.”

  “Ducky.”

  When the large appliance was far enough into the room that they could see all of the floor that had been under it, they both stepped around and looked down. Only a very light film of dust greeted them.

  Calderone said, "I'll take the grill off the bottom front."

  "Have at it." Elizabeth opened the dishwasher and pulled out the bottom rack. The bottom shelf was tightly affixed to the sides. "You get that beer cooler open?"

  "Didn't want to do it when I was alone."

  Mahan called from the front counter. "Do it with me and we can split what's in there."

  Elizabeth had stooped in front of a huge base cabinet that held pots and pans. "While I open every pot, why don't you guys try the lock?"

  "I got a bolt cutter in my car," Mahan said.

  Calderone fingered the square lock. "Yeah, that's better. We can get a cheap lock to replace this one."

  Mahan went to his patrol car and Elizabeth moved to dish cupboards while Calderone pushed a small freezer away from the wall.

  Mahan returned with the bolt cutter and Elizabeth and Calderone watched him wield it. A loud snap was followed by the small lock hitting the floor and skidding a few feet.

  "You can do the honors, Chief," Calderone said.

  Elizabeth opened the cooler. It held two twelve packs, one regular and one lite beer, and a few scattered bottles. "Not exactly well-stocked."

  She stepped back and Mahan peered in. "The twelve-packs are open, but I think they’re full." He began removing cans from the lite beer pack.

  Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest and watched him remove each can and start on the second twelve-pack. She moved toward a pantry at the back of the kitchen as Mahan said, "Ha!" and Calderone added, "I'll be damned."

  "Money? How much?" she asked.

  Mahan flipped through two folded eight-and-a-half by eleven pieces of paper. "Looks like lists of what he took in and paid out."

  Calderone shut the door and she and Mahan crowded next to him. They moved to the stainless steel table and spread them out.

  Elizabeth examined Ben's neat writing and long rows of names and numbers. "A lot of money came through here. Are there dates on those lists?"

  "Yeah." Mahan flipped over each page. "Looks as if this is just the last couple months. Sheesh. He took in, can't add it all in my head, maybe close to six thousand dollars."

  "And he paid out?" Calderone asked.

  "Hmm."

  Elizabeth glanced over Mahan's shoulder as he turned over the second page. "Looks like about forty-two hundred dollars."

  "Tidy profit," Calderone said.

  Mahan continued to study the list of money that came in. "Probably the only way he kept this place running. And...seems Alice was his main source."

  "She bet more?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Bigger, I think," Mahan said.

  Calderone looked around the kitchen. "He didn't have a lot of food here. Maybe he was about to get some in, but it appears that what he took in from the bets was his main source of income."

  Elizabeth nodded. "I noticed even his dry food pantry isn't all that well stocked. So, what does this tell us?"

  "Don't let Alice manage your money?" Calderone asked.

  "Kinda sad," Mahan said.

  "Okay, log the sheets when we get back to the station." Elizabeth nodded toward the customer area. "
I'm tired of pots and pans. You're in the kitchen, Mahan."

  “Maybe I'll go through the oatmeal and cereal boxes in the pantry," Calderone said. “Be good places to hide money.”

  Elizabeth left the kitchen and stared at booths in the cigar section, looking first left, then right. She was certain that whoever had snuck in the night after Ben's death had been seeking something in particular, not just cash left in a drawer.

  She had told her officers she wasn't going to assume that Grayson essentially let someone into the diner when he was apparently dozing. But that didn't mean she wasn't annoyed.

  If they discovered a lock that fit the key from Ben's hat, and whatever it fit was empty, it could mean Grayson had let a thief get to it first. If that happened, she would move from annoyed to enraged. Or at least furious.

  The fact that the door key returned to its kitchen hook could mean someone found what they sought. Or that they had not and made a copy for future searching. Not that it would do the person or people any good, with the changed locks.

  Elizabeth lowered to her hands and knees and crawled along the base of the booths. Each sat on a hard platform that was the same color as the vinyl. The bases were also red, and the edges of some were scuffed. Elizabeth could see where Ben or someone had touched up the red paint in a few places.

  She reached the end of the row of booths in the main section of the diner and stood to stretch. She would have traded her lunch for a set of kneepads.

  Elizabeth moved along the booths on the shorter side of the diner. A hidden safe or space for a cashbox could have been added when the newer area was built. But where?

  She got back on her knees and started down the row by the windows. At the second booth from the back of the diner, she looked below the front of the wide seat. Several cracks graced the red vinyl. Maybe from short people bouncing their heels against it.

  She pressed on the vinyl and it was softer than she expected. Elizabeth was about to run a hand around the base when Calderone's voice came from the counter, near the kitchen.

  "Hey, Chief. Fender bender near the college entrance."

  Mahan barely controlled a laugh. "One of the homecoming parade floats they're transporting to campus ran into a Sweathog security car."

  Elizabeth swung into a cross-legged sitting position. "Hope they didn't crush the little blue thing. Mahan, can you take it, or you think you need Tony?"

  "Probably squashed the bug," Calderone said.

  "I got it, Chief. I'll call Tony if I need help." He laughed. "Bet Wally was driving."

  The diner's front door dinged as Mahan left. Elizabeth called, "Hey, Calderone. Look at this, would you?"

  He came around the corner from the front section and Elizabeth pointed to the base of the booth she sat next to. "See how this strikes you."

  She scooted down a couple feet so he'd have room to squat.

  He felt around the vinyl near the booth's wooden base. "Vinyl's been kicked or something to make it so...hey, there's a crack in the wood at the bottom."

  Elizabeth bent over and shone her lit cell phone in that direction. In the middle, under the booth seat, was a line running from the top to the bottom of the base. She put her head closer and moved the cell phone toward it.

  "Good eye. I think there's a little hinge where it sits next to the wall."

  Calderone made to lie flat, and Elizabeth said, "Oh, yeah, you'd fit really well."

  He grinned at her. "Didn't want to make the chief do the dirty work."

  "Like I never do." She fully flattened herself. Calderone pulled back a foot and shone his flashlight under the table top. Elizabeth slithered toward the back of the booth.

  The booth base clearly held an opening. There was no latch. "I'm not going to ask if you have a nail file, but how about a really thin knife from the kitchen?"

  He rose from where he'd been kneeling. "Sexism."

  Elizabeth could hear his humor. "You guys are so macho, if I'd asked you for a file you'd have said I insulted you."

  She stayed where she was, wedged between the booth seat and the thick metal poles that supported the table top. The hinges were small. Only a child crawling on the floor would have noticed them. Probably not even a kid, as it was plenty dark by the wall.

  Calderone came back and passed her a paring knife. "Thinner than a table knife, I think."

  Elizabeth pushed the knife into the slit and jiggled it. With no opposing pressure, the mini-door swung toward her. "It opens!"

  "Damn. What's in there?"

  "I have to back out a bit. No room to swing it toward me." She crawled backwards a foot and finished pulling the door toward her, using the knife.

  She reached in with the knife. It hit metal. "Got something. My gloves are in a pocket. Hand me one of yours, would you?"

  Wordlessly, Calderone leaned over to pass her a latex glove.

  Elizabeth forced her fingers into it. Not easy lying on her stomach. She reached into what she could now tell was a small recess, and pulled out a flat box. It was the kind of thin metal cash box that might be used to collect admission to a church spaghetti dinner.

  "Coming out." She pushed backwards until her head was no longer under the table, and pulled the box with her. "Has a lock."

  Calderone now wore gloves, too, and he grinned. "Brought the key. Still dirty, though."

  She gestured to him. "You do the honors."

  She stood, brushing lint and what appeared to be a couple cracker crumbs from the front of her uniform pants.

  Calderone stuck the tiny key in the lock and smiled at her. "Hot damn."

  Elizabeth leaned closer to where the box sat on the booth table. "Drumroll time."

  Calderone opened the box and whistled.

  The neat piles of bills were definitely not cash register change.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “THAT’S AS GOOD A MOTIVE for murder as anything.” Elizabeth stared at the cash before looking back at Calderone. “I want it counted, but even though you’ll be wearing gloves, just touch the corner of each bill.”

  “You’re going to send all this for print analysis?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Maybe later, if we think it would point us in the right direction, or prove a suspect was a patron. Too expensive to send all those bills for analysis.”

  Calderone frowned. “Plus all the overtime this weekend.”

  “Over…oh, right. Homecoming.”

  “Always at least a bunch of drunks, maybe a couple alumni get mad if they lose and throw a punch at the football coach,” Calderone said.

  “Okay, shut that thing and let’s put it in evidence. After you count it. Do it with Mahan and Hammer.”

  Calderone raised an eyebrow. “It’ll take three of us?”

  “Nobody on the force would take anything, but I want at least one person who wasn’t searching for the money. Safer for everybody.”

  “Safer?”

  “Probably lots of people looking over our shoulder on this one.” Elizabeth smiled at him. “Even auditors.”

  “Sure. How tight a lid do we keep on this?”

  “Pretty snug for now. I want everybody we think placed bets with Ben to be interviewed again. Ask them what they wagered, and make it clear it’s not a trick question to prosecute them. Just tell them…tell them we want to figure if there was a large amount of cash in the diner.”

  “How do you want us to split up the interviews?”

  “Divvy up the list however you want, but I’ll get with Nick and Marti again. They had to know this went on.”

  ELIZABETH KNEW HARVEY didn’t want her at the Weed and Feed in uniform, so she called to see if Nick or Marti was at work.

  “Marti’s on. You need her?”

  “I don’t want to make you short-staffed, but if she could talk for half-an-hour it would really help me with some background.”

  “Sure, Chief. Not too busy now. If it’s thirty minutes, no problem.”

  “And tell her flat out I only need information
. I don’t want her freaking out.”

  Harvey kind of grunted a laugh. “She’s tough. Somebody gave her a dollar tip last night, she followed ‘em out the door. She said if they were going to leave a tip even if they didn’t have to, it should be a good one.”

  “She end up with a bigger tip?”

  “Guy said he’d stop back today, give her a five.”

  “When’s Nick on?”

  “Not ‘til tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” Elizabeth hung up and stared at the wall for a moment. She wanted to interview them separately now. She didn’t think either of them be a good enough actor to maintain a lie. But she didn’t rule them out.

  HAMMER USHERED MARTI into Elizabeth’s office just as she hung up the phone after scheduling Nick for an hour from then.

  If there were such a thing as anxious eyes, Marti’s green ones bore that expression.

  Elizabeth gestured to a chair across from her desk. “Relax. Want some water? We have bottles in the fridge down the hall.”

  Marti sat back in the chair. “Did you find out who did it?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m thinking of a lot of possibilities. Not people. Motive.”

  Marti frowned. “Wasn’t it to get money?”

  “If it was, why leave everything in the cash register? I think it was maybe Ben’s other money the person was after.”

  Marti said nothing, but she flushed and sat up straighter.

  “I’ve talked to people like Gordon, and Squeaky. And Alice.”

  Marti’s shoulders relaxed and her words tumbled out. “Nick and I, we didn’t bet. Ben wouldn’t let us even touch any money.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “He didn’t trust you?”

  “Not that. He said it probably wasn’t a good idea to bet in the diner, and he didn’t want us to get in trouble.”

  So Ben fully understood how wrong it was. “He was looking out for you. So, no one’s in trouble. I told Squeaky to pass around that it has to stop.”

  She leaned forward. “You can bet online. Ben did.”

  “A lot?”

  Marti considered this. “I mostly only knew if he won. That wasn’t too often.”