Railroaded 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  “That man is as obtuse as they get,” I said. “Do you think we should warn her?”

  Nate and Marshall shook their heads.

  Then Nate said, “We’re not her lawyers and we can’t appear as if we’re going behind Bowman or Ranston’s backs. Roxanne’s a big girl, and she’ll deal with it. I gave her the names of some decent criminal defense attorneys when I last spoke with her. I’m sure by now she’s contacted one of them.”

  “So now what?” I asked.

  “We do what we always do: question the suspects, review the timeline, and look for discrepancies.” Marshall wadded up the tissue and tossed it in the trash. “And in this case we hope to prove Bowman and Ranston wrong.”

  For the rest of the day I expected the phone to ring with the bad news. I figured it would either be my mother at the brink of hysteria or Roxanne. What I didn’t count on was a call from Cecilia at a little before four.

  “Oh my goodness, Phee, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I honestly don’t know what to do. I found someone’s small jewelry pouch after today’s rehearsal in the social hall. I was the last one out of the building because I stopped to use the ladies’ room, and by then everyone had gone. About that pouch . . . it was the kind with a drawstring, only it wasn’t one of those gauzy ones; it was more like a linen material.”

  I thought she’d never get to the point. “I’m not quite sure how I can help you. Isn’t there a lost and found in the administration building?”

  “That’s not the point. Oh heaven help me, I’ll need to spend my weekend in confession.”

  “For what? Finding a little drawstring pouch?”

  “I didn’t just find it, I opened it. I had no business opening it, but I figured it had to belong to one of the Rhythm Tappers. I wanted to see if I could find a driver’s license or recreation card, and that’s when I saw it.”

  “Saw what? What did you see?”

  “It was a gold charm on a necklace. No house key or anything. Only a charm in the shape of a train, and on the back it was engraved, ‘You chug and tug in all the right places. W.M.’ Don’t you get it? ‘W.M.’ That has to be Wilbur Maines. How many train-shaped charms with W.M. engraved on them can there be?”

  “Forget about the charm for a minute. What did the license say?”

  “There was no license. Or rec card. And the pouch was too small for a cell phone.”

  “That’s it? You found a charm on a necklace?”

  “I rooted through it like a vandal. Trust me when I tell you I’m on the ladder down to hell.”

  My eyes rolled around so much in my head I wondered if I’d ever regain focus. “Listen, your discovery may be an important clue. A clue! If it means what I think it does, then those Choo-Choo Chicks may not have been the only ones Wilbur was messing around with. Is there a manufacturer’s tag on the pouch?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  I held the phone and waited. I could swear I heard Cecilia sniveling and catching her breath in the background.

  “I’m back,” she said. “The pouch is robin’s-egg blue, by the way, and there’s a tiny little tag that says ‘DB Jewelry Co.’ If I’m not mistaken, Kohl’s had lots of those pouches on sale not too long ago. They sell them in batches.”

  Kohl’s, Walmart, Target . . . “Listen, I have an idea. Don’t turn the pouch in to the admin office. Call them when you get home and tell them you found a jewelry pouch and it was too late to drop it off. Have them post a ‘found’ notice in their office and on their website. Give them your phone number and direct the owner to call you and identify what’s inside the pouch.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then you can find out who Wilbur was really seeing, but whatever you do, don’t give them your address. Better yet, have them meet you someplace that’s really busy, like Bagels ’N More, and don’t go alone. Get my mother or one of the book club ladies to join you.”

  “You can say it, Phee. You think the owner of that little bag with the gold train charm might be the scorned lover who killed Wilbur.”

  “Um, that’s not exactly what I was thinking, but—”

  “I’ll get Myrna to come. She just bought a new and improved Screamer. It’s five times louder than the original. And I’ll get Louise Munson, too. She has a can of Mace she keeps under her sink just in case. I’ll tell her to bring it. And I might as well ask . . .”

  I broke in before Cecilia finished. “Try not to make it a spectacle.”

  Those were my famous last words. I should have known better.

  CHAPTER 25

  “What can possibly go wrong?” I asked Marshall that night at the Irish Wolfhound’s all-you-can-eat fish fry in Surprise. “Cecilia will be surrounded by the book club ladies, complete with their online self-defense purchases. It’s not like the owner of that pouch is about to wield a weapon.”

  “True, but knowing those women, something’s bound to go wrong. Did you tell them not to make any accusations about an affair or, worse yet, Wilbur’s murder?”

  “I told Cecilia. Besides, we don’t even know if the owner will come forth. It’s not as if they were missing a cell phone or a credit card. The only valuable thing in that pouch was the charm, and for all we know, it could be a cheap, gold-plated thing. Cecilia wasn’t specific.”

  “Guess it’s a waiting game, huh? Honestly, the list of possible suspects keeps growing, like those weeds in our yard. First thing tomorrow I intend to spray the daylights out of them. Then it’s off for what I hope will be the last of my interviews with three of the Rhythm Tappers who’ve been unavailable up until now.”

  “At the office or the posse station in Sun City West?”

  “The posse station. Say, you’re working tomorrow morning. How about I drop you off and pick you up when I’m done? It should be around twelve thirty, or one at the latest. No sense taking both cars. We can grab a bite and get our food shopping over with at Costco.”

  “Not quite as romantic as dinner and a movie, but yeah, it works for me.”

  I reached under the table and gave his knee a squeeze.

  “Speaking of romantic, you haven’t told your mother where we plan to honeymoon, have you?”

  “Absolutely not! Are you kidding? She’d find a way to suddenly take a vacation there, and she’d bring Streetman with her.”

  “I don’t think they allow dogs.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised at how she sneaks that Chiweenie into places. She’s got a number of assorted tote bags, each one larger than the one before.”

  Marshall popped a french fry into his mouth and grinned. “Your mother has a skill set that will never be replicated.”

  “Thank God.”

  * * *

  The weekend flew by as if someone had pushed a fast-forward button, and next thing I knew it was late Monday morning and we were back at the office. Well, not all of us. While Marshall finished up his interviews on Saturday, Nate was at the posse station interviewing Grace Kimbur and Tracee Pearl, the two Choo-Choo Chicks who allegedly had affairs with Wilbur Maines, according to Estelle, the second lady Herb latched on to at the Model Railroad Club meeting. The first one, Vickie Owen, probably blocked his calls by now.

  “This will be worth the trip over there,” Nate said when he left for Sun City West. “Even if it’s a bust where those women are concerned, I plan to pick up some decent bialys and cream cheese while I’m out that way.”

  “Get an extra half dozen,” Augusta shouted as Nate was halfway out the doorway. “And a tub of cream cheese with chives.”

  I had just faxed an invoice to one of our clients. “Get plain cream cheese, too. I don’t like chives in mine.”

  “Maybe the two of you would like to see a menu.”

  Augusta laughed. “Nah, Phee’s been to Bagels ’N More so many times she can recite it in her sleep. As for me, I know what bagels and cream cheese are.”

  Nate ran his hand through his hair and groaned. “Fine. Plain cream cheese. Chive cream cheese and bialys. I think I
’ve got it.”

  “Have a nice morning,” I said, and then Augusta and I broke up laughing.

  “Good thing that guy has a sense of humor,” she said. “Another boss might can us both.”

  “I doubt it. We know too much.”

  “Think he’ll have any luck with those Choo-Choos?”

  “Something’s got to give. Meanwhile, Roxanne doesn’t have a clue in the world that Bowman and Ranston are poised to arrest her at any given minute. Not that she’s living in La-La Land, mind you. She knows she’s the only suspect right now, but she’s convinced that won’t be the case for much longer.”

  “Humph. Knowing those deputies, I’m surprised they didn’t drag the woman into the posse station this weekend.”

  “Yeah. Me too. It’s kind of like knowing someone is about to pop a balloon at a birthday party, yet when they do, everyone jumps.”

  “What about that gold charm you told me about Friday afternoon? The one Cecilia found in the social hall. Anyone come forth yet?”

  “It’s too soon. The admin building at the Rec Center is closed on weekends, so it won’t go up on their lost-and-found notices until today. But once it does, news travels fast around that place.”

  “Your advice to her was good, by the way. Can’t be too careful. Lots of kooks and nutcases out there. In fact, last week some woman got arrested in Walmart for driving around intoxicated in one of those handicapped carts. Customers said she deliberately tried to run them over.”

  “Geez. Well, if someone does call to claim the charm, Cecilia plans to meet them in a busy restaurant.”

  “The posse station might be better. And she should come armed.”

  “It’s a gold charm, Augusta, not plutonium.”

  “Like I said, ‘kooks and nutcases.’ ”

  “Or ex-lovers. Come to think of it, that could be worse.”

  A second later the door to Marshall’s office swung open and Evelyn Watross stepped out. I didn’t even realize she had been meeting with Marshall because I was sequestered in my own office most of the morning and hadn’t asked Augusta who was in Marshall’s office.

  The minute Evelyn saw me, she spoke. “Hi, Phee. I hope that situation at the Railroad Club meeting the other night won’t deter you from visiting again. Or getting your mother to join. But it was a most unsettling matter, and that’s why I decided to seek help from your firm. Oh dear. Please don’t tell anyone I was here. You can’t believe how fast gossip travels in some circles.”

  Oh yeah. Fast enough to leave the speed of light in its quake. “Um, no problem. Williams Investigations has the highest degree of integrity and discretion.”

  “Thank you.” Then she looked at Augusta. “And you, too, Miss Augusta.”

  “That’s a thing around here,” Augusta said when Evelyn left. “Adding the word ‘Miss’ in front of someone’s name. Makes me think of barmaids like Miss Kitty, if you want the truth, but I suppose it’s better than being too overly familiar with someone you don’t know.”

  “I kind of thought it was a Southern thing. Go figure. So tell me, what was she meeting with Marshall about? Do you know?”

  “I only schedule the appointments.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since she didn’t tell me when she called last week.”

  “My door’s open and I can hear you,” Marshall announced. “Give me a moment before you jump to conclusions.”

  Augusta crinkled her nose. “Next time we’ll lower our voices.”

  “I can hear that, too.” Marshall stepped out of his office and went straight to the coffee maker. “It’s nothing racy or eyebrow raising, if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact, it doesn’t have anything to do with Wilbur’s love life.”

  “Don’t tell me it’s a missing cat,” Augusta said. “We had one of those a few weeks ago. Darned thing came back on its own.”

  Marshall stifled a laugh. “No missing cat. More like concern over something that could go missing: the Model Railroad Club’s replica of the Golden Spike. Give me a minute. I’m going to need a cup of coffee.”

  He popped a K-cup into the Keurig and turned to me. “You were there, Phee, the night of that Railroad Club meeting. What was it? G-scale?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  The coffee began to pour into the cup and Marshall glanced at it. “The replica wasn’t in its usual spot, and Evelyn was convinced someone had removed it and returned it without positioning it correctly. That’s how she knew it had been removed.”

  “But it’s back now,” I said. “Why is she so worried?”

  “Evelyn was in the club room last Thursday to tidy up. Apparently, different members come in to dust the displays. Ugh. I had to listen to her go on and on about why the computer keyboard minivacuums were best for sucking up the dust from the tracks. Anyway, when she went to polish, yes, polish the showcase that houses the Golden Spike, she noticed it had been moved again. ‘It is off-center by at least an inch from the top,’ were her exact words. But that wasn’t what alarmed her.”

  “Your coffee’s done, Mr. Gregory,” Augusta said.

  I raised my hand so Marshall couldn’t make a move. “It can wait. Tell us what got her so upset.”

  “Fine. When she took a closer look at the spike, she realized it needed cleaning. Said the spike was usually polished, but when people held it, they got their body oils on it and that ultimately dulled the finish.”

  “Oh brother.” This time it was Augusta who rolled her eyes.

  “Anyway,” Marshall went on, “Evelyn didn’t have time to take care of the spike because a crew of painters had arrived. The club received a mini grant from the Rec Center for repainting the museum room and installing new shelves.”

  “That shouldn’t take too long,” I said. “That silly old spike can wait a few days.”

  “According to Evelyn, the room project will take longer than a few days. Seems those crews start a job, leave things all over the place, disappear for a few days, and then return only to work a few more hours. With paint cans and materials all over the place, she felt it would be unsafe to venture in there. Needless to say, she was distraught over the condition of the spike and even more concerned someone tampered with it. She’s convinced they’re going to steal it. I told her if they wanted to take it, they would have done it there and then. She disagreed. Insisted the would-be thieves were, and I quote, ‘waiting for the right moment. ’ ”

  I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. “All of this over a club mascot, or whatever it is. So now what?”

  “Yeah,” Augusta said, trying not to laugh. “Are you and Mr. Williams going to stake out the club room?”

  “As a matter of fact, we are,” Marshall replied. “But via technology. I told Evelyn I’d set up one of those mini surveillance cameras. You can get them for less than twenty bucks at Walmart. If nothing else, it’ll put her mind at ease. And she can always watch paint dry.”

  I took a step toward the Keurig and handed Marshall his coffee cup. “I’m glad Evelyn’s mind will be at ease, but what about poor Roxanne?”

  CHAPTER 26

  About two hours later Nate returned to Williams Investigations with bagels, bialys, and enough cream cheese to last us a decade. Augusta announced his arrival the second he stepped foot in the door, and I immediately walked out of my office.

  “I got plain, chive, and vegetable, if any of us wants to eat healthy,” he said. “I drew the line at chocolate chip and cinnamon. Anyway, I’ll put these in the breakroom and we can help ourselves. I, for one, am starving.”

  “Any luck with Tracee and Grace?” I asked.

  Nate rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Boy, do those gals kiss and tell. Seems old Wilbur was quite the lothario, but Tracee and Grace didn’t take him seriously. They knew he was married, but get this—according to Tracee, ‘At our age, we take any action that comes our way.’ Good grief. That’s not all. I spoke with them separately, and it seems they also heard something about
Wilbur planning to leave his wife for another woman. But who? They had no idea.”

  “Roxanne certainly didn’t,” I said. “But if that rumor’s floating around out there, Bowman and Ranston are bound to throw it in with their other corroborating evidence against her. Let’s face it, the jilted wife motive for murder is pretty common.”

  Marshall stepped out of his office. “What’s that I hear about jilted wives?”

  Nate laughed. “Only Phee’s concern that it’s a motive for murder Bowman and Ranston might use.”

  “Heck, they’ll use anything. Hey, I can smell those fresh bagels you’re holding. I’ve got time for a quick snack and then I need to pick up a minicam with a motion detector alert for my phone. Evelyn Watross said she’d be at the Railroad Club room at three. The place should be empty then and there’s no meeting tonight. And no one signed up for work time either. I should be in and out of there in no time.” Then he smiled. “Surveillance to protect the Holy Grail. I’ll explain while we eat.”

  The four of us sat around the table in our back room. The door was ajar in case anyone walked in, but we didn’t have any scheduled appointments that afternoon. That didn’t mean, however, we were off the hook as far as phone calls went.

  No sooner had I taken a bite from my bagel when it rang. “I’ll pick it up. I have a sneaky suspicion it’s going to be my mother. She can always sense when something’s up. Even if it’s surveillance for a lousy Golden Spike replica.”

  Sure enough, Harriet Plunkett’s voice reached across the phone line and straight into my ear. “What on God’s green earth were you thinking when you told Cecilia to meet the person who lost that gold charm?”

  “Um, hi, Mom. I guess you spoke with Cecilia, huh? For your information, I was thinking she could kill two birds with one stone: return someone’s lost item and find out if they were having any sort of affair with Wilbur Maines. What’s the big deal? I made it really clear she shouldn’t meet that person alone.”

  “Oh, she won’t be meeting that person alone because, for your information this time, she’ll be meeting with three women in search of their little gold train charms.”