by Kira Reese
“This downpour doesn’t help my mood on a Monday morning,” she said. “I apologize.”
“There is no need for an apology. I’m leaving you alone. Do you want another cup?”
Inwardly, I laughed at her. Early morning was fine with me. I did my best thinking then. She moved slowly until she had enough caffeine to set her on her way.
“I’ll take one with me,” she said. She poured coffee into her travel mug and wished me luck that day. “Don’t leave anything out when I get home,” she said. I made a promise to her.
My adrenalin raced. I sat at my laptop. The reading was scheduled for ten that morning. I had until nine-thirty to spend time on some research.
I brought up Catherine Medlin’s name. She was married to her third husband, having divorced the other two. Ronald Medlin worked in the local newspaper office as a top reporter. He had the reputation for getting to the root of stories and was just offered a job with the New York Times. I wondered if he had already moved to New York. I felt sure that Catherine would be happy to move on once she finished up at the mortuary. I recalled she told Officer Checkers in our conversation that she planned to finish Wednesday of this week.
Also, in our conversation, she told us the maintenance man’s last name. Jim Anderson must have gotten along well with John Goff, or he would not have stayed working there all these years. I was more than curious about the man now that I kept something in my mind that brought him to the forefront of everything.
I looked at the crystal clock on the buffet and turned off the laptop. The rain had let up somewhat, but an umbrella was needed. I grabbed an extra one of Sharon’s at the back door and was glad my car was in the other space in her garage. I drove to the lawyer’s office and parked on the side of the building. Holding the umbrella over my head I hurried to the front door. There was a rack there for umbrellas, and I noticed several more propped there, dripping onto the mat beneath the frame. Officer Checkers greeted me. Catherine and Randall sat a chair apart in the reception area. Sam introduced me to Jim Anderson. There was no time for introductions to the other three unknowns there. Two women and a man went ahead of the rest of us when the lawyer came out to tell us he was ready.
Jim Anderson was dressed in a well-cut suit. He was clean-shaven and I thought of him as a maintenance man only because I knew he was one. Catherine was dressed impeccably, but her simple attire matched her roll in life as a receptionist. Randall Hunt stood taller than anyone, though his shoulders bent slightly. It was no surprise to me when Jim Anderson sat down to the right of the lawyer, Jason McNabb. He introduced everyone and indicated the two women were first cousins to John Goff, and the unknown man was the husband of one of them.
“I am sitting in place of the executor of the will, who is Jim Anderson, the man next to me. He did not wish to read it.” Jason gestured toward Jim. I heard two audible gasps that came from Catherine and Randall. I knew the feeling. Jason McNabb glanced at them briefly and then resumed his narration. “If everyone is ready, I will begin.”
He read the beginning that was similar to anyone’s last wishes put into writing. Other than his voice, there were no other sounds in the room.
Chapter 15
The Will
That day in the office of Jason McNabb was the day that revealed more than the reading of a will. By the time we all left the room, Jim Anderson owned Goff and Sons Mortuary. The maintenance man rose above everyone else. The cousins were left a much lesser monetary amount, Catherine was left a small value from life insurance, and Jim received everything else. It was no surprise to me that Randall got nothing.
None of us spoke with one another. Catherine headed for her car, as did Randall. The female relatives of John Goff wore expressionless faces. The women’s heads bowed slightly, and the husband of one of the cousins showed fire in his eyes. Jim remained with the lawyer. Officer Sam Checkers and I waited him out. After approximately an hour, he emerged from the room where the will had been read.
“Mr. Anderson, I need you to come down to the precinct for a statement,” said the officer.
Jim Anderson looked surprised but agreed to follow us down. The rain transformed to sprinkles at this point, but I opened the umbrella, anyway. All three of us drove in a procession to the precinct. I stood behind the one-way glass and watched the interview with Detective Bruce McMillan. Before it started, we discussed the will.
“Jim Anderson had worked there for a long time,” I said. “Maybe he was the only friend John Goff had.”
“That’s true,” said the detective, “but I can’t imagine what a maintenance man knows about running a funeral home.”
“He probably knows nothing. He certainly isn’t a mortician,” I said. “Maybe John gave it to him so he could sell the property and live out his life in comfort.”
The detective’s silence told me he was thinking hard on the matter. Our attention was directed to the man who sat at the table waiting for Officer Checkers and another cop who sat down across from him. The recorder was flipped on and the usual verifications of who was who began. The Miranda Rights were read, and Jim dismissed the need for a lawyer. Sam asked questions about the history of Jim’s work at the mortuary. He stated he had worked there for over thirty years, having begun when John’s father owned the place. He saw the training of John in the business from outside the inner workings after he got his license.
“Why do you think John left the business and property to you and not to someone like one of his relatives?”
“John did not trust anyone except me.” Jim shifted. “I shouldn’t say that. He did get along with Catherine, though they did not share a close personal relationship. John and I were like father and son after his own dad passed away. He told me he and Vickie would never have offspring. She did not want children. The marriage was an unhappy one.”
“I take it that since you and John Goff were close to one another, you would have known about his concern over stolen items from deceased people before burial,” said Sam.
Jim jerked his head up. “He never mentioned anything being stolen at all. I can’t imagine that happened. Goff and Sons Mortuary has always been run in an upright manner. I am sure nothing like that went on at all.”
“Are you saying that John Goff did not divulge that to you?” Officer Checkers repeated the question when Jim did not answer.
“I’m sorry, Officer, I was lost in thoughts of what you said. John never mentioned any suspicions of that to me at all. You have to understand that even though we were close, I was there to keep up with maintenance and rarely knew what was going on inside the business. If that went on, he must have had his reasons to not tell me.”
“Do you recall Peter Pemberton’s funeral?”
“Of course I do. Everyone who was anyone attended the service. John asked me to be there in case anything was needed inside. That would be things such as a lightbulb going out, or possible plumbing issues. He wanted me on hand.”
“After Mr. Pemberton’s body was taken from the visitation room, what would have happened next?”
“It would have been taken to the small room to the side of the hallway leading to outside away from the visitation room. That is, it would be taken there once the family viewed for the last time in privacy. John would then close and seal the casket before the pallbearers lifted it into the hearse.” He looked the officer in the eyes. “I had seen that happen once in a while over the years.”
“On the day of the Pemberton funeral, do you know who closed the casket for the last time?”
I was in a nearby room when Catherine came to tell John he had an urgent phone call. Since the funeral was so big, Randall was helping that day, and John told him to close it. I presume he did since he was in the hallway at the time. I finished at the breaker box and left. A breaker had been giving trouble and it kept triggering off sometimes. I got that fixed permanently the next day.”
“Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” said Officer Checkers. “If you will wait a few minutes in th
e outer area, we’ll have your statements ready for you to sign.”
We congregated in the detective’s office. Sam and I were the only ones with him. The other officer took the tape to the office down the hall to get it transcribed and printed out.
“I was so sure Randall Hunt was innocent in the whole matter,” said Officer Checkers.
“At this point, I do not believe he can be ruled out as a very strong suspect,” I said. “Peter Pemberton was supposed to be buried with a Rolex watch, for one thing. If Randall closed the casket, it would have been easy for him to slip the watch off his wrist.”
“Call Randall Hunt in right away,” said Detective McMillan. “I think he has a lot to say.”
It was early evening by the time Randall appeared at the precinct. I called Sharon to tell her I would be back as soon as possible. Her voice rose with animation when I told her I thought we were getting to the bottom of things. I promised her a full report when I arrived later.
“Go ahead and eat and I’ll grab something from your fridge when I get back,” I said.
When Randall appeared his frame appeared gaunt. Eyes darted back and forth when asked to go into the interrogation room. At first he denied any knowledge of stolen items from deceased bodies at Goff and Sons. After several hours of interrogation, during which time I took breaks, he confessed everything.
Randall met Zach Phelps at a convention in Schenectady a year previous to the murders. Randall had as much a desire for fine jewels as his wife did. He and Zach became friends. Randall told him if he ever came across any gems with a value he could not be sure of, that Randall had an appraiser friend who was an expert in that field. Randall Hunt often noticed jewelry on bodies he prepped for viewing. John told him which ones were to be buried with their owner’s body and which ones were meant to go back to the family of the deceased. He devised a way to steal from them before burials, and he enlisted the help of Zach Phelps. Zach did not earn the money he wished he did in his own trade and had been looking for a way to make more in the gem business.
“What part does Sean Scholten play in all of this?” asked Officer Checkers.
“He played no part, except to appraise what we had on occasion. He had no idea where the pieces came from.”
When asked about Vickie Goff’s part in it all, he again stated that she had no part in it at all. He went on to say that when he stole the watch from Peter Pemberton’s body, John came in at the moment just after the deed was done. He did not see what had happened, but Randall felt he knew. “He couldn’t prove anything wrong was going on,” said Randall. “He never liked me to begin with. His father had partnered with me, and I came along with John’s inheritance. After the next funeral, he told me he had drawn up papers to dissolve the partnership. He held the most shares and could do that.”
“Why did you kill him?”
At first, Randall denied killing anyone. He emphasized that stealing from the dead was his crime. After drilling him with questions for another hour or so, he finally relented and told the rest of the story.
“At Anne Mayes’s services, I once again was asked to close the casket. This time John saw me take the brooch from her dress and slip it into my pocket. He remained silent on the matter until later that evening when everything was over. He accused me of stealing from the dead and was horrified I stooped so low. He told me he knew now for sure that I had taken something of value off Peter Pemberton’s body. We were the only ones in the place when he confronted me. I pulled a knife from my pocket and stabbed him on the wooden floor at the back entrance. I pulled his body to the back door where a hearse was parked, ready for the next body. I laid a blanket in the back and got his body inside. I went back and cleaned the blood up and then drove him to River Bend Road, where I dumped his body.”
“And the gun? What was the reason for leaving a gun with one spent bullet missing?”
“I left that to throw you off. After I dumped John’s body, I shot the gun and then placed it next to him. I have a liking for guns of all kinds. It’s easy to buy stolen ones, and I was lucky I found several of the same caliber to use when I needed them.”
I found his use of the word lucky to be rather ludicrous. I left for a few minutes. When I came back Randall was explaining Vickie’s role in it all.
“She was having an affair with Sean Scholten. Sean mentioned the jewelry I brought him on occasion for appraisal. She asked Sean for specific pieces for no real reason. I guess they were just talking in general when she asked. He told her about the brooch and the Rolex watch. She recalled both items since she had seen them at visitation times. Vickie was at the mortuary the next day and she confronted me about the pieces.” By this time, Randall was enjoying his tale. “I told her I had no idea what she was talking about. She turned and said she had to go downstairs to organize some old files. She pretty well dismissed me. I followed her down and she accused me again. I told her I could bring her into the business if she wanted. Sean would never have to know, and I had a link to someone who readily bought items.”
Vickie liked the idea, according to Randall. “She worked with me on a few funerals as I filled in at the mortuary. We knew it was a matter of time before the will would be read and I probably would not be working there much longer.” He smiled as he told the story. Detective McMillan glanced at me with a look of disgust on his face. “The knife came in handy again. I went out and shot another shot from the second gun to be ready. Vickie began to get greedy and thought she was not getting a big enough payout.”
“How many of the deceased wanted valuables buried with them?” asked Officer Checkers.
“A couple more at Sons and Goff, along with one from the funeral home in Schroeppel where I work on occasion. When she found out about that one she demanded I share the proceeds. I knew it was time for her to go.”
He told how he killed her that night after hours in the basement. He retrieved the large envelope from the office and inserted the remaining jewels that had not been sold to Zach Phelps. He wrote the name Zach Phelps in penmanship assumed for his double life on the outside and put it into the hidden safe in the wall. He stated only he and John knew it existed. John only mentioned it was there once when both men were in the room.
“He had no use for it, but I decided that was the best place to store pieces I filched from bodies. Just before I did the deed on Vickie, I handed her the note I meant to leave for her earlier. She wadded it up and threw it under the table. I couldn’t deal with selfish partners, and it was her time to go.”
He leaned back and smiled, as if proud of his expertise.
Chapter 16
Web Complete
The two officers in the room stood and left a guard posted inside before walking out.
“I need a break from that,” said Sam. “I can only guess why Zach Phelps had to go.”
“There is also the man who met me in the park near the lake,” I said.
I felt sure Randall sent him as a diversion while he murdered Zach. He had no intentions of allowing Zach to meet with a private investigator. I shivered when thinking about how close I came to becoming another murdered victim.
“You were saved when the patrol car drove up,” said the detective. “It would be hard to explain to your friend Ben Jones if anything happened to you up here.” He gave a crooked smile. “Of course, you know I am not serious. I am thankful you are safe. We have had enough going on in this quiet town. At least it was quiet before all this business started.”
“I have a feeling it will affect tourism for a while,” said Sam.
“The city council isn’t happy about that,” said Detective McMillan. “They are already worried about the holiday season when it comes to tourism.”
“Now that the murders are solved, I feel sure word will get around that Sand Ridge is safe again,” I said.
I excused myself and called Sharon. The clock on the wall in the front of the precinct read ten o’clock. I assured her she should go on to bed if she were tired. I tho
ught I would be there in another hour, at the latest.
“I’ll wait up for you. I have some work I can do,” said Sharon. It made me feel good. I knew I would be too wired by the time I got to her house to go right to bed.
Randall was allowed a break with supervision. Once more, everyone was positioned as before.
“Why did you kill Zach Phelps?” asked Officer Checkers.
Randall flipped his hand back and forth. A snort escaped his mouth. “He was weak. His conscience got the better of him. I went to his house that evening. I took a man I hired a year ago as a bodyguard. I told him to wait outside.” He shifted position. His eyes lit up. “I heard him talking to that private investigator here from New York. He was on the phone and asked her to meet him at the pavilion a short distance from his house. I waited for about twenty minutes until time for him to leave for his meeting. The sun was setting, and I figured by the time he got to the park it would be near dark.” He drummed his fingers on the table surface in a leisurely fashion. “I told my bodyguard to meet her instead. He was to scare her and, if needed, bring her back to Zach’s house. I planned to deal with her in any way necessary.”
My arms folded tightly, one over the other as I glued my eyes to my would-be murderer. His chair scraped back a little. He crossed one ankle over the opposite knee and continued. He said he had no alternative except to kill Zach Phelps. He had the third gun ready, along with a large kitchen knife he got from the holder in the kitchen. Everything was in place. He dragged the body on a sheet from the bed in the next room and watched it roll to the edge of the lawn. He then placed the gun there, wiped the knife clean and threw it into the lake. He did not want the knife dripping blood as he threw it, he explained.