GG01 - Sudden Anger

by Jack Parker

  Ms. Stewart's dining room was much more congenial than her former husband's. The walls were a light sage green and the carpet a sort of golden brown color. Table and chairs of a simple traditional style were made of a warm, dark wood. Taupe curtains with an olive stripe at the bottom, comfy-looking chair cushions and a runner over the small buffet in a burnt-orange leaf print gave it an earthy feel. Various ceramic pieces in aqua set off the earth tones. Once the food had been served Ken began asking questions.

  "Ms. Stewart, you used to live in the house where your former husband resided, is that right?"

  "Yes, Sir, I did," she replied. "I know the wife usually gets the house in a divorce, but I didn't want it. It reminded me of too many painful things, and I wanted to put them behind me. Besides, it's huge, what would I do with all that room? Clarke was going off to school and Justin elected to live with his father, so it was just Gracie and me. In lieu of the house Charles gave me half its value and I used it to buy this one."

  "That certainly sounds civilized," Ken said around a mouthful of a very delicious chicken casserole.

  Ms. Stewart laughed, a pleasant and light-hearted sound. "It was anything but!" she said. "Since I'd already moved out he tried to tell me I'd abrogated my right to the house, and it took months of legal wrangling to arrange the transaction." She waved her hand around the room. "But as you can see it was eventually worked out."

  "Did you visit Mr. Greene's house often?" he asked, and then added, "You were there at the party on Saturday."

  "Yes, I visited occasionally," she said. "I take every advantage to see my sons. Justin is at that stage where he thinks he can do without parents, so Clarke's visit was a good excuse to see them both. Before you ask, I got along OK with Jennifer. I wouldn't say we were friends, but I'd fully expected Charles to remarry after I left him so I didn't resent her presence. But I wasn't in the habit of socializing with them, unless there was some family event."

  Gracie stopped eating long enough to say, "I go over there sometimes. Dad's got the pool, and he didn't mind if I brought my friends. I've got a key, we go over and swim sometimes after school. Dad said I could keep some stuff at the house, but I didn't want to."

  "Do you still have a key to the house, Ms. Stewart?" Ken asked.

  "No," she said. "I gave it to my lawyer as part of the agreement."

  Gracie was spooning more broccoli onto her plate. She paused to look up at her mother. "Dad had the locks changed," she told her. "He gave me a new key over a year ago."

  Clarissa just smiled and said, "Guess that shouldn't surprise me."

  Ken took a minute to savor his food, giving himself a chance to think. Unless this was just a little act put on for his benefit it sounded like the ex-wife hadn't had a key. But her daughter did, and it would be easy enough for her to have a copy made if she'd wanted one. She could've gotten in the house to look for something, maybe deliberately made a mess to throw us off.

  "I've been thinking about the burglary," he announced.

  "Me too," mother and daughter said in unison.

  "Have you had a chance to go through Mr. Greene's papers yet?" he asked.

  "I was going to do that this evening," Clarissa replied. "I called Jennifer when I got home from work, but she wasn't home. I can understand that she might not want to stay there right now, with all she's been through. I'll try again after we finish dinner, how's that?"

  "That'll be fine," he replied. "The sooner the better, but there isn't much you can do if Mrs. Greene's not home. If you can't get hold of her tonight let me know and I'll see what I can do."

  "We know some of what was taken from the office – cash, coin collection, and a gun. At least Mrs. Greene thinks there was a gun in the office," he continued.

  "That's where he usually kept it," Clarissa agreed. "At least, it was when I lived there."

  "Do you know what kind it was?" he inquired.

  Clarissa furrowed her brow in thought for a moment. "I believe it was what's popularly called a 'snub-nosed .38'," she said. "It was a revolver, though I have no idea what brand it was. He always kept it loaded, said we needed it for protection." She offered a wry smile. "How ironic that the thief took it."

  "OK, that covers the office, except for any papers that might be missing," he said. "Jewelry was taken from the master bedroom, and prescription drugs from the bathroom. Justin's room was searched too – did he mention if anything was missing?"

  Gracie was taking a bite of chicken, and suddenly began coughing. Her mother thumped her on the back and handed her her glass of iced tea. "Are you OK, Gracie?" she asked with concern.

  Gracie took several gulps of her tea, and coughed again. "Yeah, I just put too much food in my mouth," she said a little weakly. "Please excuse me for a minute." She got up and walked out of the room.

  "I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Clarissa said. "In spite of my best efforts Gracie's table manners could use some improvement. What was it you asked?"

  "Did your son say anything was taken from his room?" Ken asked. "I'm not sure why a thief would look in a teenager's room."

  "He didn't tell me if anything was gone." Clarissa looked off in the distance for a moment, as if deciding what to say next.

  "No parent likes to admit this, but Justin smokes pot. I'm not aware that he takes other drugs, but unfortunately I'm no longer in a position to know for sure. I'm sure that's why the burglar would have searched his room."

  Gracie had just walked back into the dining room, but upon hearing her mother's statement she stopped in her tracks. "You knew about the pot?" she asked in disbelief.

  Clarissa turned to look at her daughter, giving her a faint smile. "Yes, dear, I did. The scent is unmistakable, I noticed it when I did his laundry. He started about a year before I left your father; I feel a little responsible because I was so involved with my own problems that I didn't have enough time for him. And of course your father never spent much time with you kids, I'm sure that's why Justin started, to get attention from his parents."

  Gracie sat back down at the table and stared at her mother. "But Mom, we all knew you and Dad were having trouble, partly because you started doing a lot more things with us even though Dad seemed to be around less. It was Dad's attention Justin wanted, that's why he wanted to stay there."

  Clarissa put her hand over Gracie's and said, "Thanks. It really makes me feel better to hear you say that."

  Gracie ruined the tender moment by asking, "But what I want to know is, how do you know what pot smells like?" She gave that impish grin of hers.

  Her mother returned it. "I went to college, Gracie, and I did my share of partying! I may not have been as wild as Candy is, but I knew what went on. There was usually a group sharing a joint in some corner of the room, or outside if the weather was good. You may not believe me, but I promise you I never tried it. Still, you don't forget the smell."

  Ken spoke up to say, "Ms. Stewart, I may be a policeman but I'm not going to arrest you for smoking pot twenty years ago!"

  Clarissa looked hurt. "But I didn't, Lieutenant, honestly. I got my kicks from beer – until I met Charles and he introduced me to Scotch. Then we got married and I got pregnant with Clarke; I quit school and settled down to be a mother."

  "Mom would tell me the truth," Gracie said positively. "Even in front of you. She's big on honesty, it's one of the things I like about her."

  "Which is why I need to be honest, too," she continued, with a serious look on her face. "I knew about my brother's habit and I knew where he kept his stash. Last night I was thinking about the robbery and razzed him about its being stolen. I don't think he believed me at first, but when I told him he hid the baggie behind the A/C vent – where anyone with half a brain would look first – he knew I was right. He swore it hadn't been taken, and I think he was telling the truth. He said he'd hide it somewhere else, but I doubt he will."

  "Thank you, Gracie," Ken said. "That must've been difficult to admit. I want to take another look at the house tomorrow, so I'll
check that out."

  "Please don't tell him I told you!" Gracie begged.

  "Don't worry, I won't. In fact, I'm not even interested in the marijuana. But if it's as easy to find as you say, it seems odd that the burglar would search the room and either not find it or not take it," Ken said.

  "What do you want to see the house again for?" Gracie asked with keen interest.

  "I was leading up to that," Ken replied. "It's the den. Why would a burglar tear up a den?" He turned to Clarissa. "Did Mr. Greene keep anything valuable there that you know of?"

  Both Clarissa and Gracie shook their heads. "I can't think of a thing, Lieutenant," Clarissa said. "The books were all there for show, no first editions or anything. There was the TV, stereo, and computer – but of course they wouldn't have been easy to carry out without someone seeing. Charles always kept the bar very well-stocked, but the liquor was still there."

  "That's pretty much what I thought," Ken said. "It doesn't make sense. I think the burglary was faked, but I don't know who would've done it, or why. It must be tied in with the attempt at the garage and the murder later."

  "Attempt?" Gracie said in a shocked voice. "What are you talking about?"

  Ken slapped his forehead with his palm. "I'm sorry, I got so busy thinking about the burglary that I forgot to tell you!"

  He told them about finding Greene's car in the parking garage with two bullet holes in it, and that ballistics had matched them to the fatal bullet. Over coffee and dessert he went over the facts he'd uncovered during the day, discussed alibis and possible motives. Clarissa tried once again to reach Jennifer, but she still wasn't answering her phone. Ken said he'd start a search for her tomorrow if she didn't show up. Had she done a bunk?

  CHAPTER 12

  Shawna and Cheryl had shown up after dinner wanting to cheer up their friend. They'd offered to take Gracie out for ice cream, but she hadn't felt like it. She appreciated their company, but didn't feel like she should be out having fun. She knew she wasn't exactly acting like she was grieving, but inside she was.

  Instead they went to Gracie's room, put on some music, and plopped down in bean-bags pulled into a rough circle in the middle of the room. The bedroom walls were painted Builder's Beige and the carpet was a light brown. White furniture would have made it look bland, except that the frilly curtains and geometric-patterned bedding – and nearly everything else – was some shade of purple, from lavender to a deep amethyst.

  For awhile Gracie tried to explain to her friends how she felt, which was mostly confused. She hadn't been close to her father, hadn't liked how he'd treated most people, but she still found it hard to believe he was dead. He'd tried to be kind to her, in his own way.

  "I know it sounds silly," Gracie said. "But I feel like I can't get past all the bad stuff about him until I know what really happened. Then maybe once I know I can see that there was good stuff, too. If that makes any sense."

  "Like once you know the worst, then you can see he had a good side, too," Shawna offered. Shawna was a slender girl with long honey blonde hair and green eyes. They all teased her about being a shop-a-holic, as she always seemed to be wearing the latest styles.

  "Yeah," Gracie said. "I mean, if he owed someone money, well...that's not such a horrible thing. Except it would be more likely that someone owed Dad the money."

  "The cops will figure it out, you gotta give them time. It's only been 24 hours!" Shawna told her.

  "I know, I just wish I knew now. I want to help them so it'll go quicker. And so I don't feel so helpless, just waiting," Gracie declared. "It's all so confusing, so many things happened and none of it makes any sense."

  Cheryl said, "First the burglary and then the shooting. They have to tie together some way." Cheryl was several inches taller than either of her friends, and extremely thin. Her café au lait complexion and short curly black hair were set off to perfection by a plain white French tee and simple gold chain necklace.

  Gracie suddenly realized she hadn't yet told them about Dad's car being found, or that the lieutenant thought the break-in was faked. They were properly shocked at the details.

  "I just can't imagine who would do a thing like that!" she told them in exasperation.

  "Maybe it was the wicked step-mother?" Cheryl suggested. "She wanted all his money and killed him to get it." She said it in an overly-dramatic tone, like it was an advertisement for some horror movie.

  "That would certainly be a good motive, and I wouldn't put it past her for a second," Gracie said. "Trouble is, she was talking to the cops when Dad was shot."

  "Where was she in the morning?" asked Shawna meaningfully.

  "She said she and Cindy were out shopping," Gracie replied. "Ooh, I forgot! I always thought there was something weird about her and Cindy, I think I figured it out – they're a couple!"

  "They're gay?" Cheryl asked, aghast.

  "It's 'lesbian'," said Shawna. "And anyway Jennifer must be bi if she was doing it with your dad."

  "I think she was just using Dad to get his money," Gracie told them. "They were friends when he met Jennifer, I think she figured it was a good way to get a lot of money and then they could live together." She told them how she'd come to that conclusion the night before.

  "Makes sense to me," Cheryl said. "So did Cindy do the dirty deed for her lover?"

  "I don't see how she could've," Gracie said. "Not without help. Someone answered her phone when Jennifer called just before 3:00. If it was Cindy then she couldn't have been the murderer; and even if it was someone else I don't think she'd have had time to drive to Dad's house and get there when she did."

  "But they could both have faked the burglary, right?" Shawna asked.

  "Yeah, they could've. Jennifer bought that dress just after the stores opened, and didn't use her credit card the rest of the day so she can't prove they were really shopping. Maybe she thought you couldn't tell what time she bought it. But if they had all that time, why did they make such a mess?"

  "Maybe the plan was to steal the jewelry and scam the insurance company, then they'd sell the bling," Cheryl offered.

  "And it was just their bad luck that someone happened to shoot Dad that very same day?" Gracie asked.

  "Could happen," Shawna said, though it didn't sound like she really believed it.

  "They don't have an alibi for the shots in the garage, either," Cheryl reminded them.

  "Oh, that's too much!" Shawna exclaimed. "They fake a burglary – hey, maybe they did it to get the gun! Then they try to shoot your dad and get scared off and just give up. Except that someone really does shoot him a couple hours later. I'm not buying it."

  "Neither am I," Gracie said firmly. "Besides, I can't see Jennifer stealing her own Xanax; she wouldn't know how to sell it on the street and she'd probably need it after that!"

  "Justin might've swiped the pills," Shawna suggested. "He'd know where to sell them. And you said he claimed his weed wasn't stolen, that makes sense."

  "Ooh, and he was stealing money from Dad too!" Gracie told them what she'd overheard about the trap. "I just can't see Justin taking all of it at once. It's more his speed to swipe a few at a time, just enough so he could buy a few more joints."

  "And didn't Chris say Zoo Time spent last hour in the principal's office?" Cheryl asked. "Not that I think even your stupid brother would shoot his own father. I think you're right, Gracie. It's just not Justin's style. Not that he has any style!"

  "So who does that leave?" Shawna asked. "We know it wasn't you, and I can't see your mom doing it either. Plus, she's got good alibis for the whole day."

  "Clarke was at school out-of-state, that takes care of immediate family," Gracie said. "What about Aunt Jeanine? Dad said she was in his will, maybe she did it all. The lieutenant couldn't find anyone who actually saw her at the bingo hall." She wanted to see if her friends would think of something she hadn't.

  "I've met your aunt, Gracie," Cheryl said. "She's lazy. Won't get up off her fat ass to get another drink, no
t if she can get someone else to do it for her."

  "Your dad would've recognized her," Shawna pointed out. "He wouldn't have let her get away with the first shots, he'd have called the cops. And if she'd tried once, surely he'd have just driven off the second time he saw her."

  "Maybe he didn't actually see her the first time," Gracie mused. "She was hiding behind another car or something. Then he'd have stopped to see why she was there at the mansion."

  "Didn't you say the cops found bicycle tracks at the scene? I just cannot see your aunt riding a bike!" Cheryl said.

  Gracie laughed loudly. "No, I can't either! But she'd have had to get there somehow; Dad would've recognized her car and I can't see her parking it down the road and walking. Not her style."

  "Anyone else? Who was at the party?" asked Shawna.

  "Clay was there with Mom," Gracie said. "The lieutenant thinks his alibi stinks, too."

  "Why? What did he say he was doing?" Cheryl asked.

  "Said he spent the afternoon with his daughter, Candy," Gracie replied. "Candy confirmed that. Except that she says she called him and there's no record of it."

  "Maybe he just went to see her, and she thought it sounded better if she said she called," Cheryl said.

  "The thing is, Clay called her – after we all met with Lieutenant Freeman," Gracie said meaningfully.

  "That does sound suspiciously like he needed an alibi, doesn't it?" Shawna asked.

  "Yeah, it does. Except what possible motive could Clay have?" Gracie asked.

  No one had any bright ideas on that score.

  "Bill was there, too," Gracie said. "But he's my Dad's best friend! Why would he want to kill him? He doesn't have any motive, that I can see." Gracie giggled, remembering how Lieutenant Freeman had referred to Bill. "The lieutenant called him 'The Nutty Professor', but Rita told him she heard Bill lock the lab door. And he had classes all morning, so he couldn't have broken in either."

  "So, who does that leave?" Cheryl asked.