Murder at the Grill (Cold Creek Book 3)

by Christa Nardi

  Brett called on schedule. At first we chatted about other things. I didn’t want to bring up the murder and hear his response.

  “As you can imagine, Max is frantic and constantly talking about his research and complaining as usual. Terra said he’s upset about the budget. But he’s confident he’ll get a job at a big university.”

  “Some things never change.”

  “Other than the search, it’s pretty quiet. I’m not thrilled with the search stuff. Chancellor is a whole level of bureaucracy I don’t want to know about. We have three candidates right now and we’ll start the interviews this week.”

  “Maybe you can help make a difference – represent your colleagues.”

  “Not sure about that, but we’ll see. How’s your family?”

  “Same as always. I’m still trying to get them nailed down for a date for the party. Anything new with your mother or sister?”

  “Not really. I only talked to mom last night. Nothing new on that front.”

  After a few seconds, I heard Brett exhale. “So what’s new with your latest murder?”

  I shared what I’d found out with hesitation. He didn’t say much and the silence was deafening when I stopped talking. I almost felt like he was using the surefire therapy tact of waiting out the client.

  It worked. I reluctantly told him about my visit with Rebekah and waited for his reaction. To my surprise and relief, he chuckled.

  “You’re not mad?”

  “I predicted you would get involved, Sher.”

  “But you told me I should stay out of it.”

  “I did, and I do think that the police, especially with Hirsch on the job, are the best ones to handle the investigation. I also knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore the murder investigation or not ask questions.”

  “So you’re okay with this?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather you didn’t get involved, but part of what I love about you is your curiosity and independence. I do want you to be safe, but that’s my issue. We’ll work it out somehow.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. As we talked, he generated some of the same likely explanations for Jebediah slipping away secretly. He also suggested that perhaps, working in the office and responsible for the books, Jebediah embezzled money or did something business related the Baxters didn’t want known. More questions and only members of the family would know the answers.

  It was only after I hung up the phone that I fully processed that he’d used the “L” word. I went to sleep with a smile on my face. In the back of my mind, though, I wondered if my choice to be involved would become an issue for us.

  CHAPTER 5

  Today was the first candidate interview. I looked through my closet and found a sundress with a matching short jacket. Perfect for a July day while not too casual or too formal. It worked for lunch with Kim as well.

  During the academic year, lunch was usually at Georg’s Café on the first floor of our building. During the summer, they only served a limited fare of coffee and tea, and the occasional pastry or cookies. For that reason, lunch would be at the Grill.

  On campus, I headed to the Administration building. I chatted with Misty, one of the administrative assistants, while we waited for the others to arrive. Cramer was the President of the College. Quigly was the lead trustee for the College and had been acting Chancellor most of the last academic year. Two more faculty members were supposed to show.

  I’d been surprised Quigly didn’t apply for the position and commented to that effect to Misty. The slight snort, wide eyes and dropped jaw conveyed horror at the thought of him as Chancellor. Misty and I were still recalling how the position became vacant last fall when the other faculty arrived. Shortly after, Cramer and Quigly arrived with Dr. Kahynda.

  She was not quite what I expected. Of course, when I saw the application for a Van Kahynda, I thought the applicant was a male. Good thing someone set me straight and explained that Van was short for Vanessa. Not only was she female, but she obviously wanted to make that clear from the low cut knit top to the pencil skirt and spike heels. Misty and I were the only ones who made eye contact with her.

  Appearances were deceiving. Van came across as assertive and sharp, a strong businesswoman. She answered all questions asked without any problem. She asked good questions, too. When Quigly and Cramer tried to soft pedal the murder, she let them know she read about the other two the past year. She mentioned that one resulted in the current vacancy.

  They weren’t too happy with being called out and squirmed in their seats. I suspected we had one less candidate. I escaped quickly, before Cramer had the chance to question me regarding the latest murder.

  Kim and I went to the Grill for lunch, partly because it was our favorite of the few options available and partly out of curiosity. I hadn’t talked to her much since my meeting with Rebekah. On the way, she mentioned that Marty had taken Zoe’s case. I wasn’t too surprised.

  I hadn’t realized how stereotypical my views were of lawyers until I met and got to know Marty Cohn. His caring for his client, most recently Mr. Johnson, came as a surprise. Marty didn’t strike me as cynical like some attorneys. He rated high on the integrity scale. Despite a thriving practice he also did pro bono work. A humanitarian. Rare traits in the legal profession. I also wasn’t surprised when Kim and he started dating after Mr. Johnson’s case was resolved.

  As we entered the restaurant, the stout disgruntled woman from Les Chiens marched toward us and showed us to our table. I noticed from her name tag that Diana had her name right. This was Dawn and now I knew she was Zoe’s sister-in-law not cousin.

  After she took our order without any small talk or ever cracking a smile, Kim and I inevitably compared her to Zoe. No comparison. It explained why we’d never seen Dawn Baxter out front before this. The constant scowl and abrupt manners were not going to be forgotten or good for business.

  Kim pointed out where she and Marty had been sitting when Jebediah died, and where Wayne had been sitting. I looked around and with eight tables inside about 30 customers including Kim and Marty witnessed Jebediah’s harassment of Zoe and his death. I wondered how many Bergner would subpoena.

  Kim retold the story again, clearly still upset she hadn’t gotten to eat her dinner. She laughed, but complained just the same. We were discussing the murder when Dawn brought our food.

  “It’s no great loss that Jebediah’s dead. That man was the vilest creature that walked the earth.” With that Dawn slammed our plates on the table and stomped off.

  “Don’t need to be a psychologist to figure out there was no love lost between Dawn and her brother-in-law. Wonder what he did to her?”

  Kim shook her head. “It’s hard to tell with her. I’ve run into her a few other times over the years. She only seems to have a bad mood and a worse mood.”

  I related my single experience and agreed. When Dawn came back to check on us, I commented, “I gather you didn’t like Jebediah much.”

  “Man was worthless and self-centered and took advantage. He left a long time ago. He should have stayed gone.” She spit out her answer and her eyes were dark daggers of pure anger.

  “Didn’t he used to work here? I heard that’s why there’s no seafood on the menu,” I needled as innocently as I could muster.

  “Yeah, well. Like I said, it was a long time ago. He should’ve stayed gone.” She huffed and walked away.

  Kim and I finished eating, and our conversation shifted to our dinner plans for the weekend. We decided to suggest Perky’s for dinner Friday, thinking that if we agreed in advance we had a better chance of getting our choice. And, of course, Kim continued to try to get more detailed information about our trip. Some information is not meant to be shared.

  Thinking of Brett, I got to work on the guest list for his party. His brothers, Terry and Patrick, both were told about the party. The party would be my opportunity to meet his brothers. They hadn’t let us know which of the dates we’d floated worked better and that
was the problem. Brett believed his parents wouldn’t make the party no matter when it was. They’d get the invitation once the date and place were set. I was more than a little nervous even if his parents didn’t come.

  As CEO of Westward Inc., Terry’s availability depended more on his willingness to take off work than anything else. I’d gathered from Brett that Terry was a classic workaholic and somewhat of a hermit. Patrick, the youngest of the three, was quite the opposite of Terry. Patrick worked at a public relations firm and his active social life could pose a problem. Brett worried he wouldn’t make the party because of his social commitments.

  Brett included people he worked with at the Appomattox office on the list, but didn’t expect they’d have the time off. Brett and I spent most of our time with my friends and colleagues in Cold Creek rather than in Appomattox. I’d only been to his home there right before the trip to Williamsburg. It was an hour away. Thankfully, Brett’s job as a State Police detective brought him down my way fairly often. With Kim and Marty and maybe Ali and Hirsch, it was to be a small group.

  We’d settled on the Steak House in Altavista as the location. Now we needed to set a date. I played on the computer and designed an invitation with an appropriate aging theme. Turning fifty is a milestone.

  I was shutting down my computer when Marty knocked at my door. Marty was attractive with touches of silver showing in his brown hair. Always dressed the same, his usual suit and tie seemed out of place on the Cold Creek College campus especially in the summer. Despite the formal attire, his laugh lines hinted at his sense of humor and not so stern perspective on life.

  “Hi Sheridan. I understand we’re having dinner this weekend with you and Brett. It’s good to get a chance to go out and relax.”

  I nodded and waved him to the empty chair, quite sure that’s not why he stopped by. “Perky’s work for you?”

  “Oh yeah that’ll work.” He paused ever so slightly before he continued. “Kim said she told you I’ve taken on Mrs. Gruen’s case. Would you be willing to join my defense team?” He winked and his dimples showed as he asked the question.

  “Your defense team?” I felt my eyebrows raise, not quite sure what that meant.

  “Yes, I believe I’ll need your help. I know Mrs. Gruen’s daughter already contacted you. If you are part of my ‘team’ – my ‘staff’ – it would be easier, and safer for Mrs. Gruen. I’d need you to provide the psychological perspective, as a licensed psychologist, to prepare her defense.”

  “I’m flabbergasted! I didn’t think that was possible.” I suspected that sleuthing more than anything related to my degree in psychology was the focus.

  “Shall we shake on it for now? I’ll have my admin write up an agreement to keep it all kosher.” He smiled and seemed a little less tense than when he first stood at my door.

  “Sounds good. Can you give me an update on where things are or should that wait?”

  I wasn’t quite sure how this was supposed to work. With Mr. Johnson’s case, I was involved mostly providing information. Marty hadn’t shared any information he was privy to that wasn’t public knowledge. He still might not.

  “For right now, I’d like to set up a time for us both to meet with Mrs. Gruen. I can bring the paperwork with me. Any chance you can get away tomorrow morning around 9 o’clock?”

  I confirmed the time with him. With another interview at 11 o’clock, I told him I’d drive myself to the Cold Creek police station.

  Priscilla’s shrill voice broke through my train of thought.

  “Did I hear correctly, Sheridan? Do you have to stick your nose into this one, too? Can’t you just mind your own business? Haven’t enough people warned you to do that before.” Priscilla hissed as she spoke. I was glad I was a distance from her as I didn’t need a shower.

  Shocked on many levels, it took me a minute or two to respond. Priscilla and I often saw things very differently. Best described as rigid, she did not hide her hostility toward me very well. She was thin and athletic, angular rather than curvy, which matched her personality. Even her hair and features were sharp rather than fluid and soft.

  Taking a deep breath, I responded as calmly as I could manage, “Hi Priscilla. If you overheard that conversation, then you know Mr. Cohn asked me to assist him. That makes it my business.”

  I fought the temptation to add it was still none of her business, and I held my tongue. “How is your summer going? I didn’t realize you were teaching this session.”

  Priscilla’s mouth dropped, but she recovered quickly enough. She stammered, “I’m here for a meeting at the counseling center. I better get going.” With that she walked away.

  Even after she walked away I bristled from the interaction. I’m pretty easy going and get along with most people, just not Priscilla. I was still steamed when I left campus.

  By the time Brett called that evening, I was settled in with Charlie, watching Downton Abbey, and in good spirits.

  I told him about Marty’s visit, excited to be official, whatever that meant. Brett hesitated and changed the subject. I got the feeling he wasn’t as happy about this development as I was. At least he didn’t suggest I stay out of it again.

  After a few minutes of unrelated conversation, he asked if any of us who took the self-defense class had gotten together to practice. His attempt at nonchalance fell flat. I told him about my conversation with Terra about a possible refresher and we joked about like minds. He volunteered to touch base with Hirsch to arrange the training.

  CHAPTER 6

  At precisely 9 o’clock the next morning, I walked into the Cold Creek Police Station. Not seeing Marty in the waiting area, I went to the desk and told the officer on duty I was there to see Mrs. Gruen and her attorney, Mr. Cohn. He directed me to have a seat.

  There was only one other person waiting, a woman I didn’t recognize. My first thought was that she must be a stranger to Cold Creek. Then I remembered I hadn’t recognized Dawn earlier in the week.

  It was about five minutes before Marty came through the door, dressed in attorney mode with briefcase in hand. He signaled me to join him as he approached the officer at the desk.

  “I’m Mr. Cohn, Mrs. Gruen’s attorney. This is my assistant, Dr. Hendley. Can you arrange for us to meet with Mrs. Gruen now? I cleared this with Chief Hirsch yesterday.”

  “One moment, sir. I need some ID and I have to get approval from the Chief.”

  He turned away and mumbled into the microphone on his shoulder. I dug around in my purse for my driver’s license and put it on the desk. Marty did the same.

  The officer turned back toward us. “Chief Hirsch will be right out and will assist you himself.” He avoided eye contact, quickly wrote down our information on his log, and handed us back our licenses.

  A door opened and Chief Hirsch walked toward us. He extended his hand and shook first Marty’s hand and then mine.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cohn, Dr. Hendley. Come with me.”

  I realized more than ever just how complicated small towns could be. It was hard to deal with Hirsch in this context. For the past four years, I’d dealt with him as an officer and much more casually in social situations. Now he was the Chief of Police and that would take some getting used to. His demeanor was much more formal today than when he and Brett were teaching self-defense in sweats.

  He led us through the door where several rooms were located, each with one-way mirrors to allow for observations from a smaller one. We walked past these to another room. It looked like it usually served as a break room. The smell of ammonia and bleach was strong. At least the germs should be long gone. Marty and I took seats at the table at Chief Hirsch’s direction.

  “I need to tell you that I think you’re wasting your time here. Zoe, that is Mrs. Gruen, had means, motive, and opportunity. That said, Mr. Bergner asked to meet with you to discuss a possible plea bargain. Someone will bring Mrs. Gruen up after that.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the next and avoided eye contact as he spoke. Fini
shed with his speech and obviously nervous, he left.

  Marty took a deep breath and opened his briefcase. He took out a sheet of paper and asked me to read it and tell him if I had any questions. The document stated that I was being employed by him in this case and would be compensated at ten percent of whatever payment he received. It also stipulated the conditions of confidentiality and attorney-client privilege. As I suspected, privilege did not extend to me.

  I hadn’t expected to be paid and realized that he wasn’t likely to get paid. Ten percent of zero amounted to the same thing as not getting paid. I signed it and handed it back to him.

  Neither of us said much as we waited, both aware that people often use wait time as a way to increase anxiety. Not good at waiting myself, I asked Marty for a piece of paper and started drawing a family tree based on what I knew about the Gruens and the Baxters.

  “Mr. Cohn, pleasure to meet with you again,” Mr. Bergner boomed as he entered the room. He was six foot, balding, and stood ramrod straight. His jacket was too big for his slight frame, with padded shoulders to give the appearance of more girth. I hadn’t noticed these things when I’d met him before.

  Bergner was a conservative district attorney, with a reputation for getting convictions. He also was perceived as a bad loser on those occasions he didn’t get a conviction. I wondered if he would be more zealous in his pursuit of a conviction in this case given Marty bested him before.

  “Mr. Bergner, are you acquainted with Dr. Hendley?”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Hendley.” He reminded me of a robot as he made the statement devoid of emotion and without visually acknowledging my presence. I nodded and ignored his omitting my title or that we had already met.

  “Mr. Cohn, I think we can come to a reasonable agreement here. We both appreciate that trials are expensive and time consuming. I think it would be in the best interest of all involved, your client and the public, for Mrs. Gruen to change her plea to guilty. My office is willing to offer a decreased sentence from life imprisonment to 25 years with the option for less time due to good behavior.” His voice was loud and forceful, not quite a shout.