by Curry, Edna
Jack turned his head away as a couple of men carried Mildred’s bagged body past them and out the door to the waiting vehicle.
Chance pretended not to notice Jack’s squeamishness. He pulled out his notebook and began going over the details of the past evening. “Can you think of anything unusual about yesterday or last night?”
Jack gulped some coffee. “No. Everything just went along as usual. It wasn’t a very busy day—Wednesdays never are. Middle of the week, you know. Our lunch crowd was mostly regulars. We had a few tourists in the evening.”
“The schedule you gave me said that you, Mildred and Kathy were working the evening shift. That right?”
“Yeah.”
“Did anyone cause trouble or act suspicious in any way?”
Jack chewed his lip and sipped more coffee. “Can’t think of anybody, no.”
“You’re the bouncer, so it’s your job to notice if there’s any trouble?”
“Sure. But I’m a big guy, so I usually don’t need any muscle. Most guys back off if I just glare down at them a little.”
Chance nodded. “Do you have to toss a lot of guys out?”
Jack shrugged. “Not many. Once in a while somebody wants to keep drinking after we’ve decided they’ve had enough. If they won’t take no for an answer, I show them the door.”
“Anyone threaten Mildred after they were tossed out like that?”
“Not seriously. I mean, sometimes a guy will bluster and swear. By the time he sobers up, he’s usually more embarrassed than anything else.”
“You have a key to the Lilliput and know the alarm codes?” Chance inquired, to verify what Reggie had told him.
Jack nodded.
“Who else has those?”
He chewed his lip, thinking. “I guess just me, Reggie and Kathy. Oh, yeah, and the bakery.”
Chance nodded. “Might be a good idea to change the locks. And call the alarm company to change the code on that, too.”
“I suppose we should.” He raked a beefy hand through his dark hair. “Maybe I’d better call Mildred’s lawyer to make sure I can do that. Authorize spending money, you know. I mean, I don’t even know whose money it is I’d be spending. And I need to ask who’s in charge now.”
“Good idea,” Chance agreed. “Her lawyer should have answers to those questions.”
“Jack!” A high-pitched voice squealed from the doorway. They looked up to see a tall woman in a tight knitted top arguing with the deputy who was stringing crime tape across the doorway. “It’s me. Let me in!”
“Who’s she?”
“Jody Wilkens. My girlfriend.”
“Does she work here?”
“No, she just pops in real often. She must have heard about the murder. Can I let her in? She’ll be really pissed off if I don’t.”
Chance regarded the buxom blonde and sighed. “Was she here last night?”
“Yeah. She’s here most nights.”
“Okay. Maybe she’ll remember something you don’t.”
A wave of expensive perfume enveloped Chance as Jody rushed in and wrapped her arms around Jack. “Oh, Jack. I just heard. This is so awful.”
Jack gave her a quick squeeze and eased her off his lap and onto the chair beside him. He introduced Chance. “The detective needs to ask you some questions, too.”
She turned wide blue eyes on him and pursed her full lips into a pout. “Really? But I don’t know anything about it.”
“You were here last night?” Chance asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then you might help us picture what happened here before the murder. Sort of set the scene, you know?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“Tell me what you can remember about last night.’
Jody twirled her long blonde hair around a long finger.
Chance eyed her dark red nail polish that contrasted with her white-blonde tresses. Definitely bleached.
“Nothing much happened last night,” she decided. “A couple of good looking young men came in late. I think they were tourists. I didn’t talk to them, so I don’t know where they were from.”
Translation: they ignored me. Chance thought a moment. “What time did you leave?”
She shrugged again, glancing at Jack. “I waited for Jack to finish work, then left with him. Must have been about one-thirty or a quarter to two, huh, Jack?”
Chance’s gaze swung to Jack. “That right, Jack?”
Jack nodded, but didn’t meet Chance’s eyes. What is he hiding? “Were you the last ones to leave?”
Jack shook his head. “No, Kathy was still here, wiping down tables. Mildred, too, of course.”
“Does Mildred always do her paperwork after everyone leaves?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, she does.”
“Who knows that?” Chance eyed the two of them. Were they capable of killing Mildred together and covering for each other?
“Who knows she stays here alone at night, you mean?” Jack asked.
“Right. Anyone besides her employees?” Chance asked.
Jack shrugged. “Lots of people could assume she did that, I suppose. Her car would still be in the parking lot after all the employees went home.”
Jody frowned at Chance. “I’ve heard Mildred tell more than one person that she hated working here alone at night. I’m sure if I overheard it, others could have, too.”
Jack nodded reluctantly.
Chance swore under his breath. If they were telling the truth, the number of his possible suspects had just multiplied.
***
Next, Chance drove to the bakery to talk to the driver of their delivery van. The owner told him Brad, the driver, had finished his route and gone home. He gave him a list of the businesses they delivered goods to on Brad’s route. Chance gave the list to Deputy Roger and sent him to check on the time Brad had been at each business.
“But if they were closed, like the bar was, how would they know?” Roger asked, running a beefy hand through his sandy brown hair, as though puzzled.
“The bakery owner said a couple of the places are open 24 hours,” Chance told him. “We can estimate for the others.”
Roger nodded and left. Chance found Brad’s house. He lived in an older section of the town, in a dull blue house that hadn’t seen paint in a lot of years. Chance rang the doorbell twice. When no one answered, he knocked.
Finally, Brad answered the door in his bare feet, wearing only jeans. His rumpled hair and sleepy eyes suggested he’d been sleeping.
“What ’dya want?”
Chance identified himself, showed his badge, and assured he was talking to the right person. Then he asked, “Can I ask you a few questions?”
“’I ’spose. What’s this about, anyway? Did I run a stop light or something?” Brad waved him inside and shut the door.
Chance walked into the shabby, but clean living room and took a seat on the sofa. “Nothing like that,” Chance assured him as Brad perched on the stuffed chair opposite him. “Do you live here alone?”
“Wife’s at work. Cooks at the school. Nobody else.”
“I see. What time did you drive into Landers this morning?”
“Huh? What d’ya wanna know that for?”
“Just answer the questions, Brad.”
Brad shrugged and eyed Chance with a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t know. I go to work at two and load my truck. Left the bakery after two-thirty, I guess. It’s fifteen miles to Landers. So maybe around three? A little before? Just guessing, you understand.”
“Did anything unusual happen? Was there lots of traffic?”
“In the middle of the night? ‘Course there wasn’t lots of traffic. I saw a van up in the back parking behind the bar with its lights on, so somebody musta been there. And a fancy new Ford came racing out and almost hit me as I turned into the parking lot beside the bar. The guy must have been drunk the way he was weaving around. I honked at him, but he just kept on going like he was in a big hurry.”<
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“Which way did he go?”
“North on 95.”
“Did you get his license number?”
Brad tipped his head. “What for? I said he almost hit me, not that he did hit me. No reason to try to get him for that. Why are you asking? Did he hit somebody else?”
“Not that I know of. Then what did you do?”
Brad frowned. “I parked and pulled out the trays of buns for the bar, opened the door, put them inside and left again, like I always do.”
“Did you see anyone in the bar?”
Brad shook his head. “It was closed and dark, like always.”
“You have a key to the bar?”
“Yeah, sure. Been delivering buns there for years. Mildred trusts me.”
Did she trust him enough to let him come talk to her in her office late at night? Chance wondered. Had he seen her counting the day’s receipts and decided to help himself? “What about the alarm?”
“I punch in the code to disarm it, then reset it before I leave.”
“Did you reset the alarm last night?”
Brad hesitated, then said, “I thinks so. Yeah, of course I must have. I mean. I’m sure I did it like I always do. Why do ya wanna know that?”
Chance ignored his question. “Think carefully, Brad. Are you sure you reset it?”
He looked puzzled, but thought a minute. “Yeah, I reset it.”
“So you not only have a key, but you also know the code to the alarm system?”
“That’s what I said,” Brad said getting to his feet and taking a belligerent stance. “And I ain’t saying no more until you tell me what the hell this is all about. Did somebody break into the bar or what?”
Chance decided he wanted to see Brad’s reaction to the news. “Somebody shot Mildred in the bar last night.”
Brad paled, his mouth slack. “Oh, my God! Is she hurt bad?”
“She’s dead.”
“Dead!” Brad dropped back into his chair.”Oh, man. Mildred? Why would anyone want to hurt a nice lady like her?”
“For money,” Chance said. “The day’s receipts were gone and the money from her purse.”
Brad shook his head in disbelief, then his eyes widened. “And you think I had something to do with it? Good God, man! You think I could shoot somebody and just keep on with my route, delivering bread? That’s crazy, Man!”
Was the guy really that shocked? Or a very good actor? Chance wondered, shrugging in answer to Brad’s question. He said, “I’ll be in touch,” and took his leave.
***
At noon, I drove back to Canton for lunch. My friend Ardis manages the day shift at The Cozy Corner. Ardis and I have been best friends since high school. She’s tall, dark and gorgeous, but not in the least vain. Whenever we can coordinate our schedules, we grab a corner table and eat lunch together there.
I’d called to let her know I’d be there about one, so she arranged her lunch hour to fit mine. Today she had our favorite table and even had my chef’s salad waiting for me. Her own identical salad was already half eaten.
“You’re a real sweetheart, Ardis,” I exclaimed, dropping my purse on the floor and sinking into the chair opposite her.
She eyed me as she poured my coffee. “You look beat, Cassie. What’s up?”
I grimaced and started to gulp some coffee, realized it was very hot, and sipped it instead. “You heard about Mildred at the Lilliput in Landers?”
She raised one dark eyebrow. “Of course. The coffee klatch group discussed it non-stop this morning. Everybody who comes in asks if there are any new developments. But what’s that have to do with you?”
I sighed and explained, “I had a car opening in the Lilliput parking lot early this morning. Must have been close to the time she was murdered. My client could have been the murderer!”
“Oh, my God! Seriously?”
I sent her a glare and picked up my fork. “Would I kid about something like that?”
“I’m sorry, Cassie. I’m not thinking. Oh, dear. I’ve told you I hate having you take late night calls. Can’t you turn on your answering machine at night like most of the other locksmiths do?”
“Yeah, I could,” I agreed. I ate some ham and cheese off the top of my salad. Ardis had even remembered I don’t like onions or green peppers on my chef’s salad. But she remembers little things like that for every one of her regular customers. No wonder this little place is always swamped. “But I like paying my bills on time.”
Ardis wrinkled her nose and drank her coffee. “There is that. I suppose that new hunk they’ve got on the county force, Chance Something or other, will be the investigator?”
I forked up some salad. “I’m sure. Our county doesn’t have anyone else with experience in homicide. I wonder what made him leave the big city to come out here to work, anyway?”
“Who cares, as long as he did. And thank goodness we don’t have enough murders to need more detectives!” Ardis shuddered. “Well at least you got to meet him, then. I’ve been hearing lots of women brag about what a sight for sore eyes he is. What did he have to say? Give, Cassie. What’s he like?”
I spread French dressing onto my salad and stabbed a forkful. “I haven’t met him yet.”
“So that’s why you’re all on edge?”
“Yeah. I’m sure he’ll be the one who’ll question me. And I’m worrying about what the sheriff will say. Worse, maybe Ben will question me himself even though he doesn’t like me.” Still, he called me this morning to make sure I’d gotten home okay after that call last night, so he must have a bit of a soft heart. I’ll bet he found out Tom had called me. Tom told me once he was supposed to call one of the men because Ben didn’t like women taking risks. I hope he didn’t chew Tom out, or Tom won’t call me at night. And that’s when most lockouts seem to happen.
“Ben doesn’t like you?” Ardis waved her fork in disbelief, then stabbed more salad. “But he tells people to call you. Why, just the other day, a guy was locked out of his car right here and he called the sheriff’s office. Ben told him to call you.”
“True, Ardis,” I said, finishing off my salad and gulping the last of my coffee. “He sends me a lot of business, but not because he likes me. Only because he doesn’t want his officers wasting their valuable time rescuing people locked out of something.”
“Oh, I see.” Ardis wrinkled her nose.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” I said, dropping money for the tip and picking up my bill.
“Good luck with Chance. Call me later and fill me in on the juicy details.”
“Okay.” I waved goodbye and headed out.
As I drove down the highway, I noticed smoke blowing across the road in front of me. Glancing to see where the smoke was coming from, I saw it was from a house.
The car ahead of me braked and turned into the driveway. I followed and stopped along the side of the yard. I’m deathly afraid of fire. Our house burned when I was a small child and I froze and couldn’t make myself run outside even when I heard my mom screaming for me to come out. I’d pulled the blanket over my head and hid in my bed. My dad had found me, grabbed me, blanket and all and carried me outside, saving my life.
Now I sat in my van, trying to force myself to get out and go to the house to make sure everyone was outside. Instead, I pulled out my phone and called 9-1-1, only to have dispatch tell me the firemen were already on their way.
The guy in the car ahead of me yelled at me. “The house is locked. Help me open it. Come on, pick the lock for me.”
I shivered and couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make myself go near that burning house. Why did I stop? I should have known I’d be useless. I’m just in the way, here.
A police car and fire engine roared up and waved at me to leave. “You’re blocking the driveway,” an officer shouted. “Move on.”
As I obeyed, I saw a fireman kick in the door to gain access and breathed a sigh of relief that my expertise was no longer needed.
My cowardice made m
e sick to my stomach as I pulled back out onto the road, making way for another fire engine and a fire rescue vehicle to get into the yard. As soon as I was safely out of their way, I parked on the shoulder, got out, and lost my lunch into the ditch. Shame washed over me. I grabbed the water bottle I always carry in my van, rinsed my mouth and spit it out, then got back into my van. Glancing back at the burning house, I saw the ambulance crew loading a stretcher into their truck, then it sped off down the highway. Thank God they’d gotten there so fast.
Would I ever recover from that childhood trauma? I should have outgrown it years ago. Shuddering, I drove on to my next job, leaving the professionals to deal with the fire.
***
After a long day, I’d arrived home, exhausted. I showered and changed into shorts and a soft knitted yellow top, wishing I could just drop into bed. Instead, I went to my kitchen to fix myself some supper. I didn’t have a lot of time.
Detective Chance had called to ask if it would be convenient if he came over to talk to me in a half hour. My nerves were all on edge at the idea of being questioned, even though I knew nothing about their case at all. I’d only had the bad luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What a way to meet the hunk all the women had been talking about. Why couldn’t I have run into him at a restaurant or a dance or something fun? Instead, I’d be on the wrong end of his report.
Now I stood in front of my refrigerator, trying to decide what to make that wouldn’t require a lot of energy. I decided on a frozen spaghetti entrée, heated it in the microwave and sat down to eat it.
I’d just downed it and made a fresh pot of coffee although I had no idea whether the detective even drank the stuff, when Chance rang my doorbell.
I opened the door and swallowed. Yikes. The guy was every bit as interesting as the gals had said. Tall, dark and rugged, with piercing blue eyes under brows just a little too thick. A dark brown curl hung a little farther onto his forehead than the rest of his short, curly hair. I resisted the urge to smooth it into place. He held out his badge to me for my inspection and said, “Cassie Jennings? Detective Chance Martin.”
I eyed the badge, nodded and stepped back so he could enter. He was muscular and trim. No extra pounds on this guy. He stood about six foot or more, so I had to look up to him. And at five-five, I’m not petite.