It was getting close to lunch time so Lou and I bought a sandwich, some chips, and a drink, and then I thanked Georgetown for his time. I had hoped Georgetown would crack the case open for me, but instead the pieces of paper left behind at the book fair led to a dead end.
+++
After Lou and I scarfed down our lunch, we headed to the first bank. I was anxious to find out two things. Had anyone made a deposit of $50,000 at one time, or several deposits that, when added would come close to that amount? And two, was anyone in trouble financially? I particularly wanted to know if anyone who would inherit was in financial trouble. The only Frankfort resident who was on my list who had made large deposits over the last several years was Portwood's attorney, Bert McHugh. But none were for $50,000, and all of them seemed aboveboard.
I learned all I could about Dan Grimes. He had really come into some money after his mother's death, and someone at the bank, who knew his mother personally said that she died of cancer, so there was nothing suspicious about her death. Grimes had several hundred thousand dollars in his accounts and had made no large deposits.
Archie and Hazel Portwood were practically living day to day. Their checking account had less than one thousand dollars in it and they had no savings account, and on more than one occasion they had been overdrawn. Their brother on the other hand, was worth several million, and a good glance at his account over the last year didn't show anything unusual except for a $50,000 withdrawal each year.
It took us all afternoon to check out the bank accounts of those whom we were interested in. Luckily, we were able to gather all of our information by only going to two banks. When nothing showed up out of the ordinary with either of the women authors' accounts, that left only Jake Cartwright and Portwood's two neighbors, back on that country road outside of Westport. So far I had followed the money and had learned nothing.
+++
We weren't going home, so we checked back in at the Capital Plaza Hotel. We even managed to get the same two rooms we had had before. That meant another view of the river and the park across from the hotel. If the weather had been warmer, I might have taken a walk over to that park. The weather didn't stop some people from doing that, because I saw a few small specks moving about as I looked down from the window of my room.
It was dinner time by the time Lou and I checked in, threw our belongings down, and fluffed our pillows. We had nothing to do, so we decided on a leisurely dinner. We didn't discuss the case out in public, but when we got back to the hotel we retreated to my room and Lou and I spent the rest of the night trying to make sense out of anything we had learned. As far as we could tell, no one had a motive for murder except someone who was mentioned in Portwood's will. That made me think that whoever murdered him was someone who wasn't mentioned in the will. With our luck it was someone we hadn't met yet and wouldn't meet for another month or two. Frustrated, Lou retreated to his room and before long we were both dreaming of finer times.
36
When I woke Tuesday morning, I refrained from calling Lou's room, calling Lou on his cell phone, knocking on his door, or sending the maid over with a note, demanding to know our clue of the day. Instead I tried to be patient. I opened the drapes, saw that God had blessed us with a sunny day. I took a few seconds to enjoy it before heading for a drenching in the shower and to shave. Feeling much better, I picked up my devotional book and my Bible, and headed to a comfortable chair. After I finished reading I prayed and then I just sat there. I didn't move until I heard a knock at the door. I narrowed my list of visitor possibilities down to Lou, the maid, or someone with a guilty conscience coming to confess to Portwood's murder. I opened the door to find Lou and the maid standing there.
"Cy, this nice young lady would like to clean your room now, and I thought maybe you and I could go downstairs and partake of some breakfast while she does that. Would that be okay with you?"
It was hard not to laugh at Lou's proper use of the English language, but seeing the maid looking uncomfortable helped me to hold it in. I felt like saying, "I acquiesce," but instead muttered that that would be fine.
While we were eating breakfast I refrained from asking Lou about the clue that I very much wanted to know. As we walked back to the lobby, there was always someone close by, so I kept quiet. There was someone waiting for the elevator, so other than smiling at the couple and wishing them a good day, I did nothing to show that I cared about any such clue. The couple got off on the eighth floor, but walked the other way and were already in their room by the time I slid my card key into its slot to open my door. I was so caught up in wanting to know the clue that I failed to see that my room door was open. Seeing no one around, I grabbed Lou by the shirt collar, propelled him into my room and up against the wall when I noticed the maid coming out of the bathroom.
She sputtered at first, but then managed to say, "I'm sorry, but I forgot the towels." I was sure that she wouldn't be making a return trip to my room and was hoping that Lou and I would be checking out soon. As soon as she left, Lou laughed out loud.
"Cy, I know you don't love me."
"How do you know that?"
"Because 1 Corinthians 13 says that love is patient, love is kind, and love doesn't demand its own way. But if there is something you would like to ask me, go ahead. I am a forgiving man."
"Well, I was kind of wondering if God gave you a message for us today?"
"Is God omniscient?"
"He is, but I'm not. So does that mean He gave you today's clue to aid and abet us?"
"He did. He said that if anyone needs aiding and abetting it's you."
"I doubt that He said that, so just tell me what today's clue is."
"How do you like your coffee?"
"How do you like your coffee?"
"Cy, you know I don't drink coffee a lot, but when I do I drown it with milk and sugar. But if you paid attention at breakfast you noticed that I drank only orange juice and water with lemon."
"Lou, I think you need to take early retirement from your early retirement."
"Is that because I drank only water and orange juice?"
"No. It was just an observation."
"Does this mean I should solve the case because you can't or I should go home?"
Some people go away if you ignore them. That didn't work with Lou, but then I prefer to work with Lou, so I cut him some slack. Besides, I pushed him up against the wall of my room a little harder than I meant to.
"Okay, let's go with the assumption that coffee has something to do with Portwood's murder. Is that okay with you, Lou?"
"Whatever you say, Your Majesty."
"That's more like it. Only I prefer Your Excellency."
"I'll wait on that until after you solve the murder."
"So, now we look for the coffee, or the coffee grounds, or the coffee drinker, or the poison in the coffee."
"I guess so. You are the learned one. I am merely your humble servant."
"Lou, I think it's time you quit taking your medication."
"But I'm not on any medication."
"Then for Pete's sake start taking something."
"Cy, I hate it when you get wishy-washy. Did you have plans for us today?"
"We need to head over to Lawrenceburg and check on Cartwright's finances. Maybe he made a $50,000 deposit in the bank."
"If not, does that mean we're headed to Westport?"
"I'm not sure. And the bank might be in LaGrange."
If we had to go there I hoped the bank was in LaGrange. The roads were a little wider. And I certainly didn't want to go back to Portwood's house. The only good thing about going there was there was no traffic in his neighborhood. That is if you don't count the bull. They don't list bull obituaries in the newspaper, so I didn't know if Elmer was still living and still patrolling the road. I wasn't going to stop to inquire. A woman who smokes a pipe probably owns a shotgun and knows how to use it.
37
My van was equipped for Bluetooth and my phone had
it, and I had no idea what that meant. But I did know that it allowed me to make a call from my van without having to hold a phone in my hand. I stopped long enough to set all of this in motion and called Herb Wainscott to see where I might have to go in case I had to visit Millie Longacre's and Bob Barney's banks.
"Cy, how's the world treating you?"
"Much better than you are."
"You mean after I treated you to a fine lunch and took you away from a life of boredom. Are you trying to tell me the murderer didn't leave you enough clues to figure this thing out yet."
"No, I'm not saying that. But I am saying that if he or she did so, I haven't found them yet. But on to the matter at hand. Where do Portwood's neighbors bank?"
"Here in LaGrange, but if you're calling for the reason I think you are I can save you a trip. I checked both bank accounts. Both Bob Barney and Millie Longacre are stable, but neither of them is stable enough that he or she made a $50,000 deposit at any time this year. Is that what you want?"
"Well, you could go to both houses, check the ground for recently dug holes and if you don't find any tear up the floorboards and see if you find any cash."
"By any I assume you mean a suitable amount to get you or me excited."
"It depends on what it takes to get you excited. I get excited when someone else pays for dinner. But in this case I'm talking something in at least the several thousand dollar range."
"Then I'm afraid you will have to find your happy recipient elsewhere."
"I've looked elsewhere, have only one more elsewhere to go. Let me ask you another question. Did you spend much time around Portwood?"
"Not really. From what I know if he was in the county, he was at home. I wasn't there until he died. To be honest with you, if the guy hadn't written so many books and been suspected of having a pretty good sum of money, I'm not sure I'd even know him, even though we did live in the same county, and I'm the sheriff."
"Then I don't guess you'd have any idea if he drank coffee."
"No, but you can check with those two neighbors of his. One of them might know. I'll tell you what I'll do. If you want me to I'll check with both of his neighbors and check at the eating places around here and call you back. How does that sound?"
"It sounds pretty good to me. I have something else to work on first."
I ended the call and turned to Lou.
"Maybe before the day is over we'll see if we've run into another dead end."
As soon as I ended my call the radio came back on. I had switched it back to 60s on 6 and was trying hard not to gyrate in my seat. Lou was sitting in the passenger seat, asking God to get him to our next place safely.
Between songs I learned that the program was in the middle of a countdown of the top songs of 1965. Since I'd heard that 1965 was one of the best years for songs, I listened intently. I soon found out that the countdown had made its way all the way to number ten.
Number ten was My Girl by The Temptations. I sang along and thought of Jennifer. I switched to my Elvis impersonation when I found out that number nine was Crying in the Chapel. Being a great impersonator, I sang like Peter Noone when it was time for number eight and it was Herman's Hermits singing Can't Your Hear My Heartbeat. By that time Lou was checking to see if anyone saw me making a fool of myself. I let Lou sing the next one, as The Beatles sang Help! He wasn't as good as I was, and didn't know all the words, but he would blare out when it came time for "Help, I need somebody." We were approaching the city limits of Lawrenceburg when Petula Clark belted out Downtown. I didn't think Lawrenceburg was the downtown she was singing about.
There were people milling about, so Lou turned to caution me. I made it a point to turn and sing to him when I discovered that number five was The Righteous Brothers singing You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'. Lou was thankful that the windows on the van were up, but that didn't keep one middle-aged woman from noticing me and breaking into a grin. Maybe Lou was the only one who didn't like my karaoke.
I continued my singing to Lou when song number four turned out to be We Five singing You Were On My Mind. It finished just as we came to a stop near the bank, but I was too curious about the top three to cut the van off and get out. I thought of our case when number three turned out to be (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction by The Rolling Stones. Lou tried to sink down into his seat when I bellowed out with The Four Tops on number two, I Can't Help Myself. I'm sure Lou thought about getting out of the van, but didn't want to with the radio blaring. I assume he figured there was only one more song to endure. All along I tried to think what might have been number one that year, and I finally found out it was Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs singing Wooly Bully. I wanted to cut the van off and sing that song as Lou and I entered the bank, but I was afraid the bank guard wouldn't know who I was and might shoot first and ask questions later. I was afraid he was a better shot than Barney Fife.
+++
I was excited, but I wasn't sure if it was because of the music or we were about to check on another one of our suspects. I was sure Cartwright's account wasn't littered with $50,000 deposits. I wasn't sure about his barn. I walked into the bank and asked for the manager who had been told someone might call on him. He took me into his office, where he had all of Jake Cartwright's information.
"Now you understand, Lt. Dekker, that we want to keep this as hush-hush as possible. I wouldn't want Jake Cartwright to find out about it."
"Same here. He will never find out we were here unless we find something incriminating."
I looked over everything the manager put before me and let Lou check it out too, just in case I missed something. I didn't expect anything to get by me. I'm so unused to big numbers that if I saw any they would definitely jump out at me. The only large denominations I know anything about are Baptists and Methodists. When I finished looking and didn't find anything enlightening, I asked the bank manager the same question I had asked the other two bank managers.
"Is there anyone else you can think of who has made a yearly deposit of $50,000 in one lump sum?"
"Well, we have several clients who make large deposits, but I can't think of anyone who made one of that size where the amount seemed out of the ordinary."
I thanked him for his time and got up to leave. I wished we had come and gone earlier, because we had just stepped from the bank and headed to my new ride when I saw Jack Cartwright heading for the bank. It was as if someone had called him to say that I was there checking up on him.
"So, Lt. Dekker, what brings you over my way again, and to my bank?"
"Well, I've come into some money recently and I'm trying to spread it around, not put all of it in any one bank. I was checking your bank to see if it was robbery proof."
He laughed.
"Well, I don't think there's any such bank. You'll just have to take your chances."
"I think I've come to that conclusion myself. But now that you're here, I have a question for you. Are you a coffee drinker?"
"Oh, yeah. I have to have my morning cup of coffee. I don't drink much late in the day, though."
"What about Cyril Portwood?"
"No, Cereal didn't drink much coffee. I can only remember him drinking coffee for one reason."
"Oh, why is that?"
"He tells me that place where he lives is way out in the middle of nowhere. And the road to his house is really narrow. I told him it sounds just like my place. But anyway, he told me once that any time he has to drive at night, which he doesn't like to do, he gets some coffee so he doesn't fall asleep at the wheel."
"Wasn't it dark the night of the book fair, when you two parted ways?"
"It was, and when we left Gibby's he asked for a large coffee to go."
"And did he go ahead and drink it?"
"No, it was too hot. I walked to his van with him and he took out a Thermos and carefully poured the coffee into it, then sealed it up, and put it in the holder. That's the way he was with his vehicles. He kept them immaculate. He told me he had recently gone over
7,000 miles on that van, and from what I could tell in that low light, it was clean as a whistle. I'm thinking about getting a van and I asked him how he liked his. See, this was his first van. Before that all he drove was an SUV and a truck. I think he still has that truck somewhere on his place, in case he needs to haul something. Anyway, I wished him a safe trip home and he wished me the same, and then I turned away to walk back to my Sequoia. See, Cereal didn't want anyone to hit his van, so he didn't park in Gibby's lot. Instead he parked on the street, away from any other cars. I took his empty Styrofoam cup from him, because there was a trash receptacle on the way to my vehicle. I tossed it in and turned to look back at Cereal to see if he had pulled off yet. There was some woman by his van and they were talking. They were too far away for me to tell anything about her. It was dark except for a few downtown lights. But I didn't figure he was in any danger, so I got in my SUV and left."
"And you don't have any idea if the woman was anyone you had seen before?"
"I don't. Well, is there anything else you need, Lieutenant. I've come to town to run a few errands."
I told him no and turned away.
38
Just as soon as Lou and I were back in the van the phone rang. It was Herb calling me back.
"Well, Cy, I did some checking for you. Millie Longacre said that Cyril didn't even own a coffee maker, and Bob Barney said he had never known him to drink coffee, but volunteered that he wasn't around Cyril enough to be a good judge. I checked the diners around here to see if any of them knew. There were only a couple of places that knew him and neither of them had known him to drink coffee."
I thanked Herb for his time and hit the End Call button.
"Well, Lou, this certainly gives us something to think about."
"Yeah, everyone says that Portwood didn't drink coffee, but his good friend said that he had some the night he died, provided he died at night."
Murder at the Book Fair Page 15