by Helen Gray
“Yes, but she’s sure he didn’t do it.”
“She wants you to find who did do it, doesn’t she?”
“That’s right. I can’t do that, but I agreed to talk to Buck to help her feel better.”
“She’s a nice secretary,” Gabe allowed, glancing over at his brother, who had darker hair like Toni’s.
Garrett nodded agreement. “We’ll wait for you. Is it okay if we go play in the park?”
There was a small community ball park behind the police station. Both boys had played tee ball there when they were just starting to participate in summer league sports.
“I don’t see why not,” she said, starting the motor. “It’s a pretty day.”
It was. A light breeze wafted overhead, the temperature was still around seventy, and the sun was still shining.
When she pulled in next to the ball park five minutes later, they scrambled out of the van and ran to join the half dozen boys already playing there.
Inside the building, Toni gave the deputy at the desk—she had known Dale Brown in high school—a smile tinged with a grimace. “Is he in?”
Dale grinned. “For you he may be. Let me check.”
He disappeared into the inner office, and reappeared moments later. “Go on in,” he said, his mouth twitching. “But don’t rile him. Okay?”
Toni stepped inside Buck’s office, not intimidated by the tall, white haired man who filled the chair behind the desk, but honor bound to make him listen to her. Her dad’s old friend had warned her off the first time Toni had wanted to get involved in a murder case, but had later relented, and eventually sought her input. There had been more cases since then.
He stared at her from beneath thick, bushy eyebrows, a hand rubbing his chin as he leaned forward on his elbows on the desk. “Let me see,” he growled. “There’s been a murder. Now you’re here in my office. Why does that make me think you’re looking to meddle?”
Toni sank onto the chair near his desk. “Maybe because it’s happened before. But I’m not looking to get involved. I just need to keep a promise to a friend.”
His eyes narrowed. “Well, get it kept. Then go home and fix a nice meal for your men folk.”
His gruffness would have put her off at an earlier time. But now she knew the softer side of him that hid beneath that tough-cop exterior. “Norm Brower’s wife and daughter waylaid me after school,” she said forthrightly. “They asked me to prove that Norm didn’t kill Jake Crawford.”
He leaned back, scowling. “And you jumped right in to do that?”
She shook her head. “I told the poor upset women that I’m not a detective and had no authority to get involved.”
“Good,” he snapped. “So why are you here?”
“Patsy was crying and begging for help. I finally told her I’d come talk to you. That’s all I promised,” she said, raising her palms. “It seemed to calm her a bit. Since I’m here, will you at least tell me why you’re convinced that Norm did it?”
He tipped his head back and studied a spot on the ceiling for several long moments. Then he rubbed his forehead, lowered his gaze, and glared at her. “Does our deal still stand?”
She nodded. “Anything you tell me is confidential, and is to be reciprocated if I learn anything that might interest you.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Norm’s alibi doesn’t check out. His prints are on Jake’s yard gate, and somebody overheard him and Jake arguing.”
“Who found the body?” she asked, pressing while he was being forthcoming, however reluctantly.
Again Buck took his time answering. “Ben Wilkes was walking his dog and found him,” he finally said.
Ben was an adult with a much younger mental capacity who lived in a group home up the street from the supermarket and worked at the sheltered workshop. He was allowed to walk his dog in the neighborhood and loved to find people who would talk to him. He was a pleasant fellow, but his value as a witness was questionable.
“Are you close friends with the Browers?” Buck asked while Toni was assimilating all that.
She shrugged. “Patsy works in the middle school office, and my boys have always liked her. I had Allison in class and found her to be a good student. I only know the younger boy by sight. I’ve seen Norm with Patsy now and then, but we’ve never hung out together. Are you still holding him here?”
The Clearmount jail was a medium to low security facility for intake of prisoners. The building was solid concrete with no access to other rooms from the jail. Offenders were generally held for less than seventy-two hours and then transferred to the county jail.
“He’s here.”
“May I speak to him?”
Buck rolled his eyes. “Give the girl an inch, she takes a mile. I guess you can say hi, but keep it short. Come on. I’ll take you to him myself.”
Toni followed the chief to where the cells were located, and waited while he entered, handcuffed and shackled the prisoner, and then brought him out to the small table where visitors sat to talk to them. As soon as Norman was seated, Toni slid onto the metal chair facing him.
The tall, muscular man was dark haired and good looking. He studied her for several moments before recognition registered in his eyes. “I didn’t kill Jake,” he said, his face wearing an earnest expression. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table.
“Your wife and daughter don’t believe you did.”
“Why would I? Jake was my bread and butter. He contracted me to build his store addition. And I was doing it,” Norm declared, his words ringing true. “Does Patsy think you can help me?”
“I’m not in law enforcement,” Toni evaded carefully. “But I’m interested in the truth.”
“I’ve heard how you helped catch Marsha Carter’s killer, and some others.” He leaned forward. “I need help. I’ve hired a lawyer, but I need someone to catch who did it and clear me.” His large callused hands released the table edge and clenched into fists.
“I’m a teacher, and it keeps me very busy fulltime.”
“But you’re observant,” he countered. “It’s a small town and you know people. If you won’t help, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
A vision of this proud but beaten man lingering in a prison cell for something he may not have done made sympathy swell up in Toni. She leaned forward and spoke softly, hoping Buck couldn’t hear from his position by the door. “I don’t know what I can do other than pray for you, but I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”
Reading despair in his face and posture, she heeded Buck’s signaling glance at his watch, gave Norm’s work roughened hands a pat of sympathy, and left the room. She wished she could offer the contractor the hope he so desperately considered within her capabilities. If only she could.
Chapter 2
With her promise kept, Toni figured she had ended her involvement. She made a point of dropping in on Patsy during her free class period Thursday morning and assuring the secretary that the Chief of Police was ready to listen if they heard or saw anything that might have any bearing on the case. Toni tried to be as optimistic as possible, but carried the picture of Patsy’s hollow-eyed face with her back to her classroom.
Throughout the rest of the day she pushed the matter to the back of her mind. But by last hour she knew she faced the fact that she couldn’t stand by and do nothing while an innocent man could be sent to prison and a killer allowed to run free. She had to be Patsy’s advocate.
After school, Toni waited until she and the boys were in the van, Garrett in the front seat and Gabe in the back today, to say anything. When she turned in the seat and started to speak, Gabe beat her to the punch. “Where are we going, Mom? You’ve got that look.”
“I’m not sure,” she said, eyeing him steadily. “Do you have any idea where I might find Ben Wilkes?”
Gabe pondered a moment. “He lives in that group home, but he loves to hang out at the ball parks where guys gather to play Indian ball.”
The home wa
s one for mentally disabled adults where each adult resident took as much responsibility for everyday decisions as he or she was capable of performing. They were adults who needed, and were given, self-respect and as much responsibility for themselves as possible.
Toni and her family knew Ben from church. The couple who ran the home brought some of the residents to church with them regularly. The Indian ball to which Gabe referred was a game designed to let a group of kids of assorted ages play baseball if they didn’t have enough players for teams.
“Which field would you check first?”
“Retro Park,” he said instantly. “It’s nearest to where he lives.”
“If they’re there, they’ll let us play with them,” Garrett piped up, sounding happy at the prospect.
No longer feeling guilty, Toni drove to the ball field and parked behind the bleachers. There were only a couple other vehicles there, but several boys inhabited the field. Some bicycles were parked at one side of the field. She looked over at Gabe. “Do you see him?”
He studied the field for several seconds, and then pointed. “He’s sitting on the bottom bench, watching. I don’t think he plays much. He’s older than the boys, and he doesn’t see well enough to hit the ball.”
Toni visualized the thick glasses Ben wore, another strike against his value as a witness.
When the boys hopped out of the van and ran to the field, Toni lagged behind them and walked over to sit beside Ben. “Hi there,” she greeted him brightly.
He turned to face her, and then smiled in recognition. “Hi, Mrs. Donovan. I didn’t know you liked Indian ball.”
“I don’t know anything about it, but my boys like it.”
“It’s like baseball, but easier,” he explained with enthusiasm. “No certain number of players is needed, so whoever shows up can play.” He was clearly thrilled at being able to educate an educator.
“They divide in half, but there’s no running, just hitting and fielding,” Ben continued. “If the ball is hit past the infield, it’s a single. If it goes past the outfield, it’s a double. And if it goes over the fence, it’s a home run.”
Toni wanted to get to the topic of his traumatic dog walk, but sensed he needed to run down first. “What if I hit it to the right or left field where there are no fielders?”
Ben’s quick grin said he knew the answer. “If you hit it to one of them, it’s a foul ball. But if you hit two fouls to the same side, it’s an out.”
“Who runs the bases?”
“The runner is make-believe,” he explained proudly. “You just remember where runners would be and keep score.”
She looked around in a searching manner. “Where’s your dog?”
“Oh, Spike’s with Joey. See them over there?” He pointed to beyond the left perimeter of the park where a younger boy was leading a small black dog on a leash.
“I understand you were walking Spike and found Jake Crawford.”
His face clouded. “Yeah,” was all he said.
“I’m sure that was a difficult experience. Do you think you could tell me about it?”
Ben shrugged. “I found him.”
“Well, how did you happen to find him, and where did you find him?”
She watched a twist of emotions in the young man’s face as the cogs of his brain slowly turned.
“I was walking Spike over by the fence around Mr. Crawford’s yard,” he began slowly.
Toni visualized the wooden privacy fence that Jake and Bonnie had constructed around their property a year or two ago. “What made you notice Jake?”
He shook a finger, as if summoning words. “Well, Spike ran off the sidewalk and started sniffing along the bottom of the fence. Then he ran back to me and started barking. Then he ran back to the fence again and started trying to dig under the gate. When he stopped, he had a piece of string in his mouth, only it wasn’t a string. It was a shoelace, and it was hooked to something.”
Toni waited while Ben paused to get his breath and gather his thoughts, not wanting to rush or distract him.
“I went up to the gate and peeked through the space between the gate and fence,” he continued after several moments. “And I saw Jake over by one of his crepe myrtle trees close to the gate.”
“You mean he was lying on the ground?”
Ben nodded jerkily. “He was on his side, with his legs across the bottom of the gate, and I saw blood on his neck.” He shivered, his eyes squeezing tightly shut.
“What did you do?”
He opened his eyes. “I had my phone, so I called the police. The gate was locked, so I waited on the sidewalk. When the police got there, one of the deputies climbed over the fence that goes around the yard and opened the gate from the inside. They wouldn’t let me go in with them,” he added in a tone of disappointment.
“So did you wait outside or leave?”
“I waited, and I heard one of the policemen say Jake had been shot, and they couldn’t find a pulse. Then he told the other one to call the coroner.”
“Did the police talk to you then?”
Another jerky nod. “Uh huh. One of the policemen went looking around the place, and the other one made me tell him what I just told you about how I found Jake. Just when we finished talking, a blue van screeched into the driveway. It was Mrs. Crawford, and she was real upset, cryin’ and all. The police stopped her from going inside the yard and told her Jake was gone. Then they told me I could leave. People were standing around on the sidewalk by then. I guess they heard the sirens. The police made ‘em get back when the coroner pulled up in a station wagon.”
Toni figured it might be considered ghoulish, but the talk made her wish she could see that crime scene. It could help her get a better idea of what had happened. But right now she needed to get home.
*
During the night, Toni woke to sounds of footsteps in the hallway. She rolled over in bed, her ears finely tuned. Was Garrett dreaming?
There had been occasions in the past when her youngest son had been restless in the night, and when she checked on him he had been dreaming and mumbling phrases related to current murder cases. In one of those instances, he had been the person who found the body. So she had developed a sense of alertness for his nighttime restlessness.
“What’s wrong?” Kyle mumbled beside her, partially roused by her tossing and turning.
“I think one of the boys is up,” she said quietly. “I’ll go check.”
“Okay,” he grunted, and burrowed back into his pillow.
Toni slid out of bed and slipped her arms into her robe. Then she grabbed the small flashlight from the bedside table and padded softly down the hall to the boys’ room. She eased the door open and peeked inside, expecting to see Garrett tossing and tumbling in his bed. But the bed was empty.
She closed the door and headed to the living room, the beam from the tiny flashlight preventing her from running into any walls or stubbing a toe, something that had happened too many times in the past.
She found Garrett curled up on the end of the sofa, his head tipped over onto the arm of it. She slid onto the cushion at his feet and gently placed a hand on his ankle. “Can’t you sleep?” she asked quietly, keeping the light aimed toward the floor so as to not blind him.
He rubbed his eyes and pushed his body upright. “I was dreaming about Gabe.”
Toni’s stomach lurched. “Was it upsetting you?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “He’s been moody lately. I think it bothers him when his voice cracks.”
At eleven Garrett’s voice hadn’t begun to change yet, but Gabe was definitely undergoing some frustration with his unstable vocal cords.
“He sticks his nose in those puzzle books all the time. I think he does that to keep from talking,” Garrett continued.
Gabe was their fact finder. If he encountered anything new that was beyond his knowledge, he read books and researched online, being a real glutton for information. His recent fascination with crossword p
uzzles had made Toni and Kyle wonder if he might end up in journalism or some other writing related career.
“So what was the dream about?”
“I can’t remember much of it,” Garrett said quietly. “But he was stuck on a puzzle and asked me for the answer. I told him it was in the key. Then I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” He was definitely sounding drowsy at this point.
Toni had answer keys to tests and labs she used in her classroom. She could see how Garrett would tell his brother in a dream to find the answer he needed in the key, which would be the back of the book in the case of Gabe’s crossword puzzles.
“Now that we’ve talked about it, do you think you can go back to sleep?”
He sighed and swung his legs around to put his feet on the floor. “I think so,” he said, standing. “Night, Mom. I mean morning.”
Toni sat there for a few more moments and listened to his footsteps go down the hall and enter his room. Then she returned to her own bed, sensing no ominous portent to this particular dream.
*
Friday was a hectically busy day, followed by dinner with Toni’s parents. There was no opportunity to visit the crime scene. That evening Toni collapsed on the sofa after supper. The TV newscast had just ended. “Why don’t you turn it to the local cable channel,” she suggested to Kyle, who was already channel surfing.
He punched the number on the remote. “That’s right. I’d forgotten the Rotary auction. Does your dad have items in it again this year?”
She nodded. “I’d like to see how well they do.”
Russell Nash had taken up woodworking since retiring. He was currently working on a wooden deer for bow hunting target practice, but he had made some duck decoys and donated them to the Rotary Club’s yearly fundraiser auction.
The scene on the screen showed two men sitting behind a long table, with auction tickets before them. Community businesses and individuals had donated items that included tools, crafts, books, a bowling ball, and more items she couldn’t identify. The two Rotarians—Stuart Hartman, who worked at the school, and Bart Ramsey, a local attorney—at the desk were describing each item one by one, while a bevy of activity could be seen behind them, and the sound of ringing phones signified people calling in bids. Fellow Rotarians would hand slips of paper to Hartman and Ramsey alternately, and they would then announce the bidder names and amounts.