Lilliput Bar Mystery

by Curry, Edna

  Roger lifted a shoulder. “Or he could have been just a drunk without much judgment.”

  “Could be. But I think I need to spend some time tracing Mildred’s past. Maybe I’ll find out why someone wanted her dead.”

  “Or maybe not,” Roger said. “Could have been a simple robbery gone wrong, you know. What about her son?”

  “I’m waiting for a friend to check him out and give him the news.”

  “I see. I’d better get moving.” Roger tossed down some money for a tip and picked up his bill. “I’m back on patrol duty.”

  “Okay. See you tonight.” Roger stopped to chat with a couple of people as he made his way to the till to pay.

  Chance finished off his own lunch, drank his coffee and thought about his next move.

  As he got into his police car, his cell phone rang. “Chance, here.”

  “It’s Luke, buddy. I found your vic’s son at his apartment, sleeping. Had a bad hangover. He seemed pretty shocked to hear his mother had been murdered. Claims he spent the evening gambling with his girlfriend, and then spent the night at her house.”

  “Does she agree?”

  “Yeah, I talked to her, too. But they’re both the type of person who would lie through their teeth for each other.”

  “Did you check the airlines?”

  “Of course I did. No record of him flying, under his own name, anyway. But he runs with the kind of crowd who carry multiple IDs. So that probably doesn’t mean much.”

  “Does he have a record? Prints on file?”

  “Yep. Mostly white-collar stuff. Bad checks, embezzlement at a place he worked earlier, stuff like that. A couple of people claim he’s in debt for gambling. Couldn’t verify that, though. I emailed you the details.”

  “Is he headed up here?”

  “Yep. Said he and the girlfriend, Sue Muller, would take the first plane. If they did, they should get in there in about an hour.”

  “Give me a description of them and their flight number and I’ll meet them.”

  “Bob’s about five foot six or so, sandy hair and blue eyes. Wearing casual jeans and a Tee shirt when I saw him. She’s about the same height, with hazel eyes and long, bleached platinum hair she wears pulled back behind her neck with a barrette thing. A haughty attitude. Was wearing everything matching in a bright red shade when I saw her, including purse and high heeled shoes. But that could change of course. You know women.”

  “Thanks, Luke. I appreciate the help.”

  ***

  I’d headed back home when Jack Thomas called, asking me to change the locks on the Lilliput. I drew a deep breath, hating to turn down ready cash, yet knowing I had to do it this time. I didn’t want the sheriff to have one more excuse to keep my name on his suspect list. “Sorry, Jack. You’ll have to call someone else this time.”

  “Okay, Cassie,” Jack said. “But I know you’ve done work for Mildred before, so thought I’d give you first shot at it.”

  I winced at his choice of words. Did he even realize he’d said ‘Mildred’ and ‘shot’ in the same sentence? “Maybe another time, Jack. Thanks for thinking of me. Bye.”

  I was still five miles out in the country when I got another call, this time from the sheriff’s dispatch, a female voice. Obviously there’d been a shift change. Knowing I’d probably need to write something down, I pulled to the side of the graveled road and stopped. “A woman in Canton needs her locks changed ASAP. Can you come right away?”

  While my feelings toward our sheriff weren’t very friendly right now, he did send a lot of business my way that I couldn’t afford to lose. “Okay.” I pulled out my pad and wrote down the address and phone number dispatch gave me.

  “A patrol car will be awaiting your arrival. The officer will stay until you’re finished,” she promised. Oh, great. One of those. Probably an abusive husband determined not to let his wife go. Or in this case, I guessed, probably wanting back into the house he’d been kicked out of.

  With a sigh, I called my next-scheduled client. “I’ve got an emergency. Could I possibly change your locks tomorrow afternoon instead of today?”

  “I suppose,” the man grumbled. He sounded old and I winced, hoping there really was no reason he was in a hurry. Many of my elderly clients put off repairs until they are an emergency.

  Back in Canton, I found the address dispatch had given me. The white frame house was a neat cottage style with a trim lawn and gold mums in hanging pots under the eaves. A patrol car did indeed stand guard in the driveway, with Deputy Roger at the wheel. He waved me inside.

  The petite young woman who answered the door looked harried and tired. Her brown eyes were shadowed and red-rimmed. A young blond child in a grimy blue jumpsuit clung to her leg. “Come on in,” she said after I’d introduced myself. “I’m Martha Johnson. I need both the front and back door locks changed, please.”

  “Okay. It’s cold outside. Do you mind if I work at your kitchen table?” I glanced around the clean, neat kitchen. The faint scents of bacon and coffee told me she’d cooked a big breakfast not long before. A pot of golden mums matching the ones outside sat on the window sill. The white appliances were far from new, but well kept.

  “Fine with me.” She pulled out a wooden chair, plopped into it and the child followed. She watched nervously as I set to work taking the locks out of the doors and bringing them to the kitchen to re-pin them. I made a couple of attempts at small talk, but she seemed lost in her own world, so I concentrated on my work.

  “What’s your name?” The little girl asked, watching me with wide brown eyes.

  “Cassie. What’s yours?”

  “Sally,” she said in a solemn voice. “I’m five.”

  “Nice name.” I ventured a smile.

  “Daddy doesn’t live here anymore.”

  The mother came out of her reverie and snapped, “Shush. We don’t talk about that.”

  Sally cringed and began to cry in great hiccupping sobs as if her heart would break.

  My heart crumpled along with hers. I wanted to hug Sally, but didn’t dare. Do your job. Don’t get involved.

  “Sorry, Baby. It’s okay.” Martha cuddled Sally against her side, her face a numb mask.

  I replaced the locks, made out a bill, handed Martha the new keys and closed the lid of my pinning kit. She handed me a check in payment, then walked with me to the door.

  She opened the door and gasped. Deputy Roger stood on the doorstep arguing with a short, thin man. A car sat behind my van, blocking me in, and another man in a suit approached us from another car parked at the curb.

  “I’m her husband,” the first man grated, yanking his arm free from Roger’s grasp. “And this is my lawyer. He’ll tell you she can’t lock me out of my own house.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Roger grunted.

  “That’s right,” the suit put in. “She can’t lock him out because his name is on the deed along with hers. So they both have equal legal right to live here.”

  I slipped around the men and headed for my van. No way did I want to get in the middle of this. Let Roger handle it. That was his job.

  Martha lifted her chin. “Go away, Frank. You don’t live here anymore. I’ve changed the locks.”

  “Well, you can just change them back. Hey, you!” he yelled at me. “Get back here and change those locks back the way they were.”

  I swung back and glared at him. Roger was officially in charge, so I looked at him for direction, but he only turned to the lawyer. Apparently the lawyer was winning this round, no contest.

  I sighed and growled, “I’ll only change them back if you pay me for doing that.” I hoped he’d refuse and Martha would win this battle. But apparently money wasn’t his problem.

  “Fine. I’ll pay you, then.”

  I turned to Martha, knowing I was breaking my own rules to not get involved. “If you press charges against him, he’ll have to stay away,” I said. “A judge can give you a restraining order. Isn’t that right, Roger?”


  Roger nodded. The suit sent me a nasty look. No doubt he preferred ignorant victims.

  Martha glanced at Frank, who glared at her, obviously communicating a warning. She looked down and shook her head.

  Frank smirked in triumph.

  “How about she just gives you one of the new keys?” the suit put in.

  “Nope,” Frank said with a nasty grin. “I want you to change them back.”

  “Okay, first I get the money.” I named my fee, adding, “In cash.” I didn’t trust him to pay up. His mottled, scarlet face showed his fury and he obviously had control issues. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he gave me a check, then stopped payment on it, just for orneriness.

  Roger stood over him, frowning. Frank met his lawyer’s eyes, then shrugged and dug out cash.

  I pocketed the money and strode back inside. Martha met me at the door with a sad, resigned look on her face. I took out the locks and went through the whole process again, using her old key to choose the correct pins to return the locks to work with their original keys.

  Martha and Sally watched me in stony silence. She seemed to have lost all color in her face. My stomach knotted in fury. I wanted to lock up Frank somewhere and throw away the key, not make it possible for him to bully this poor woman more.

  For the moment we were alone in the kitchen as the men talked outside. “You don’t have to live like this, Martha,” I said. “Grab Sally and get in the police car. The deputy will take you to a safe place to stay where Frank can’t find you. Press charges and Frank will be in jail for awhile. People at the women’s shelters will keep you safe and help you start over.”

  She stared at me numbly, then shook her head. “Frank promised he won’t hit me again.”

  “Abusers always say that. But they do hit again, or worse. Go now while you have a chance,” I urged. “Frank won’t do anything with his lawyer, me and the deputy here.”

  For a long moment she said nothing and my hopes rose. Would she leave him?

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Sally clung tightly to her. “I’m scared, Mama.”

  “But Frank will be in jail if you press charges. He can’t hurt you then.”

  She snorted and sent me a sad smile. “You don’t understand. His lawyer would have him out again in nothing flat. And then he’d really come after me. Or after my parents. Or my sister and her baby. I can’t risk that.”

  I sighed and gave up. Sometimes my job really, really sucked.

  “You know, it’s all that Mildred’s fault,” Martha said, staring at the wall. “He made us move here just for her. I wanted to stay near my own family, but no, he had to come here because his mother was here. She’d want to know her granddaughter, he said. Ha! She refused to even meet us. He wanted so much to be acknowledged as her son. He wanted a family, besides just me and Sally. But she wouldn’t claim him. That’s what makes him so angry inside. And then he tries to make himself feel better by taking it out on me. So it’s all her fault.”

  “Mildred’s dead,” I reminded her. “She can’t change anything now.”

  Martha’s mouth twisted wryly. “True. And she told Frank she’d leave him half of her property even though she wouldn’t tell people he was her son. But that doesn’t help get rid of Frank’s anger.”

  Nor her own bitterness, I realized. Could either of them have been involved in Mildred’s murder? My mind rebelled at the possibility of family members killing each other.

  My own family wasn’t all that close. Sometimes we didn’t see each other for months at a time. But murder? No way.

  I reinstalled the locks, handed her the keys and once again gathered my stuff. As I crossed the lawn to my van, Roger warned the lawyer Frank would end up in jail if he caused any more trouble.

  I shivered. I’d heard that threat before and knew it rarely did any good. Would he be put in jail before or after he killed her?

  ***

  The next day Darcy and I attended Mildred’s funeral at the little Christian Church on the hill in Landers. There wasn’t an empty pew or a dry eye in the place. Flowers and green plants filled the front of the sanctuary. We found a seat near the back just as the service began.

  The pastor praised Mildred for her regular attendance and her many anonymous charitable works over the years. A murmur of surprise rippled through the church.

  Another rumble of surprise circled the room when he read her obituary, stating she had two sons, Robert Weeks and Frank Johnson. The name Frank Johnson jumped out at me as also being the name of the abusive husband of yesterday’s client, but Johnson is, after all, one of the most common surnames in Minnesota.

  I peered between heads toward the front pew to see if I would recognize Mildred’s sons. As everyone stood for a hymn, I caught a glimpse of a dark head shorter than the rest.

  Later, as we filed down the steps to the basement for the ladies’ coffee and pie reception, I got a better look at the man. He was short and slim to the point of being bony, with a hawk-like nose and brown eyes. He raked the crowd with an angry gaze, as though daring anyone to challenge him. I looked at him curiously. Why does he think they would want to?

  Reggie, Kathy, Jack and Jody sat together at a nearby table. Darcy and I picked up our pie and coffee at the serving counter and sat at the next table.

  Chance appeared with a plate and took the chair next to Darcy and across from me. He looked great dressed up and my heart flipped. I’d be happy when this case was settled so I could try to get to know him better. “Good crowd,” he commented, forking up some pie. I introduced him to Darcy.

  “What are you doing here?” Darcy asked, her tone frosty. She tends to defend me at every turn and she must have remembered he considered me a suspect.

  “My job,” Chance retorted.

  “Perps tend to come to funerals of victims,” I murmured under my breath.

  “Really?” She glanced around as though she might recognize the person.

  I giggled at the idea and covered my mouth to hide it. Darcy nudged me under the table and I sobered and drank some coffee.

  I nodded toward the head table that was reserved for Mildred’s immediate family. “Have you met her sons?”

  Darcy shook her head, eyeing the pastor who was talking to the family.

  “No,” Chance replied. “In fact, I think I should have investigated Mildred more. I didn’t know about Frank at all. I was only told of Bobby by her employees. I’ll talk to her lawyer later.”

  As the pastor stepped to one side to talk to another person, I got a good look at the other son and gasped.

  “What?” Chance asked, turning to follow what I was staring at.

  “That is the Frank Johnson I know,” I said softly. “His wife, Martha, is the one dispatch called me to change locks for yesterday. Roger was guarding the house to keep him away, but he showed up with his lawyer. They said he owned the house, too, so they made me change the locks back.”

  Chance frowned and surreptitiously looked Frank over. “Why didn’t anyone know he was Mildred’s son if he lives right in our county? The local grapevine generally keeps tabs on everybody.”

  “Beats me.” I shrugged and bent to my pie. “But he’s definitely bad news. I tried to talk Martha into going with Roger to a women’s shelter for safety, but she was sure Frank’s lawyer would have him out in no time. She said he’d really come after her or her family then. I see he didn’t bring her or their daughter along to the funeral today.”

  Darcy tipped a head toward them and said, “The two brothers look somewhat alike, but don’t look very friendly. I wonder if they really know each other or if they just met?”

  I glanced their way. She was right. Frank had walked out already, though half the congregation still stood in line to collect their lunch.

  “See you later,” Chance said. He got up and followed Frank outside.

  “Do you want to leave, too?” I asked Darcy.

  “Nope,” she said. “Let’s stick around
and see what we can learn.”

  One of the serving women appeared with a coffee pot to refill everyone’s cups. We waited a bit, then went over to sit with Reggie, Kathy and Jack. After some small talk, I asked, “Did you know Mildred had another son? I’ve heard her mention Bobby, but never anyone else.”

  “Nope,” Reggie said as the other two shook their heads. “It’s odd that she never told us about him.”

  “You never saw him come in the bar to talk to Mildred?”

  Reggie shook her head. “I’m sure I’ve never seen him before. And I hear he lives around here, too.”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “How do you know?” Jack asked, frowning at me.

  “I rekeyed his house yesterday,” I admitted, not adding it was really for his wife.

  ***

  Chance followed Frank outside and caught up with him at his car.

  Flashing his badge, he said, “I need to ask you a few questions, Frank.”

  “This isn’t a good time. I need to get home to my wife and kid.”

  “This won’t take long. Or would you rather come down to the station?”

  Frank cast him a nasty look. “Am I under arrest?”

  “No,” Chance said. “But you need to answer some questions, one way or another. Okay?”

  Frank leaned back against his car. “Okay. I guess the wife and kid can wait a bit.”

  “Why didn’t you bring them to the funeral?” Chance asked.

  “She never met Ma. So, no need to go to her funeral,” Frank said.

  “Mildred never told people you were her son?”

  “No.” His mouth twisted wryly again. “I was the bastard she gave away as a baby. She only acknowledged me after she wasn’t here to face the embarrassment.”

  “She had you before she moved here and met and married John Weeks? That’s why you have a different last name?”

  “Johnson was the name of the family who adopted me. I didn’t have the wonderful life she claimed she wanted to give me. So I ran away as soon as I could.”