by Jessica Beck
“I’m not saying that I have an opinion one way or the other at the moment about your guilt or innocence,” Jake replied, though from his tone of voice, it was clear that he did. “All we need is his name and a way to contact whoever handled your uncle’s estate, and then we’ll leave you alone.”
“I know my rights. I don’t have to tell you anything,” Jim said sharply, and then he started for his truck.
I decided to step in. “Jake, let me have one of those bills.”
My husband frowned, but then he reluctantly handed me one of the old twenties—still in its own baggy—from his pocket. I held it up so that Jim could see it, but I made sure to keep a tight grip on it. “These bills are suddenly showing up all over April Springs. How long do you think it will be before we track one of them back to you? Wouldn’t you feel better if you just came clean and told us the truth?”
At least he didn’t deny it outright. “So what if I have some old bills? They’re still legal money, aren’t they?”
“They are, but every date on the twenties we’ve found so far is from 1928 and earlier.”
“So? Maybe my uncle left me a lot of old money.”
“Give it up, Jim,” Jake said. “We know.” His voice had an air of judgment to it that made me want to confess to something, and I hadn’t done anything.
“Know what?” Jim asked haltingly.
“It’s pretty clear that you were working by yourself at the factory and stumbled across the cache where the money was hidden. What happened? Were you running a new electrical line, and you had to access the floor there? It won’t be too hard to get a confirmation of that. One look at the wiring blueprints will show exactly where the new line was supposed to go, and Bob should be able to tell us if you were running it alone or not. It’s pretty clear that he didn’t know about the money, so we have to assume that you didn’t tell anyone about it, not even your partner. Sully found out somehow though, and he confronted you about your theft. Is that when you tore your shirt, when you ran out of the building? We found a fragment of it snagged on a nail, and I’m willing to bet that we can match it up to one of your shirts at home. You killed Sully to keep his mouth shut about the theft, but he managed to point one last finger at you before he died. The funny thing is that you’re probably not even aware of it.”
Jim’s face was ashen now. It was pretty clear that Jake’s assumptions were spot on. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Deny it all you want to, but the two of you must have struggled, and one of the bills was torn in the conflict. When we find the twenty that matches the edge we found near Sully’s body, you’re going away for murder.”
“But I didn’t kill him!” Jim protested. “I swear it.”
“You weren’t with Bob at the time of the murder, were you? How strong do you think your alibi’s going to be when we tell your old partner that you found a cache of money and didn’t share it with him?” Jake asked. “Do yourself a favor and admit it right here and now. You know that you want to.” His voice softened a little as he added, “We know that you didn’t mean to kill him. You panicked, and you did a very bad thing, but it wasn’t planned.”
Jim shook his head. “I didn’t kill Sully,” he said, his voice nearly filling with tears as he spoke. He was on the edge, ready to break, and Jake knew just where to apply the pressure.
So did I.
“You must feel awful about what happened, Jim. You and Sully were friends, and your argument with him was the last thing between you, wasn’t it?” I asked him softly. “The evidence doesn’t lie. We know that you’re not a bad man deep down inside. You did something you shouldn’t have, but you didn’t plan on killing him. In a way, it was almost an accident that he found out what you’d done. What choice did you have when he confronted you about taking that money? Come on. Tell us what happened. You’ll feel better to tell the truth.”
Jim started to speak, and then he began to softly whimper. I reached out and patted his shoulder, and after a moment, he trusted himself to talk. “You’re right. Sully saw me coming down the stairs with some of the money in my hands. When he confronted me, I lost it.”
“So you killed him,” I said softly.
“No! I never laid a hand on him! He grabbed one of the twenties out of my hand and it tore! Sully figured out where I’d gotten it, and he demanded that I turn it all over to your mother. Since she owned the building, it was rightfully hers. I told him that I would do what he asked, and he said that if I didn’t, he’d tell her himself. I left to go get the money I’d taken earlier, I swear it, and the next thing I heard was that somebody had killed him before I could get back with the cash I’d grabbed! I might be a thief, but I’m not a murderer!”
“What happened? Did you push him away from you? The rebar could have already been there, and he fell against it. Nobody’s going to think that you planned this ahead of time,” I said softly.
“I keep telling you, I didn’t do it,” Jim said again, sobbing this time.
Jake nodded, pulled out his cellphone, and after a brief conversation, he hung up. Chief Grant was there within three minutes, and before we knew it, Jim Burr was cuffed and being pushed into the back of a squad car.
“Good work, you two,” the police chief said to us as he closed the door.
“He kept saying that he didn’t do it,” I said.
“What would you expect him to say?” the chief asked. “Give him a little time. He’ll confess soon enough.” Then he turned to my husband. “Don’t you think?”
“The odds are good,” Jake said, nodding. “The man’s clearly been feeling guilty about what he did, and when Suzanne and I pushed him, he cracked.”
“Then that’s that,” the chief said. “By the way, I checked his wallet. It’s jammed full of old twenties.”
“He already admitted to being a thief,” I protested. “But he claims that he’s not a murderer.”
“What did you expect him to say?” Chief Grant asked, and then he got into the car and drove Jim to the station.
I noticed that Shirley had been watching everything from inside, and a curtain closed quickly when I looked directly at her.
“Let’s go home, Suzanne,” Jake said.
“Do you really think it’s over?”
“That’s the way it looks to me,” he said. “You were really good when you were talking to him. I was impressed. You did better than some seasoned cops I’ve seen during that interrogation.”
“If you say so.”
“You don’t seem too happy about it,” he said.
“I don’t know. It just seemed too easy, you know?”
“Sometimes that’s the way things turn out,” Jake said. “Maybe now we can get back to some sense of normalcy around here.”
“Whatever that means,” I answered. For some reason, I still wasn’t able to let things go. Most likely Jim had killed his boss by accident during their struggle, but what if he hadn’t? A part of me wanted to believe him, but where did that leave me?
If I believed that someone else had killed Sully, it looked as though I was on my own.
As far as everyone else was concerned, the case was closed.
Chapter 20
Three days later, there was still no murder confession from Jim Burr, and the nagging suspicions in my mind became bolder and bolder.
Unfortunately, Jake wasn’t inclined to agree with me, though.
“Suzanne, I wouldn’t mind learning that Jim Burr had confessed to Sully’s murder myself, but wishing it is not going to make it happen.”
“He admitted to stealing the money, though. Why wouldn’t he tell the entire truth?”
“Admitting to being a thief is a far cry easier than confessing to murder,” Jake said. “I’ve seen it happen a few times myself.”
“So, you honestly believe that he killed Sully?”
“Without any new evidence, I’m inclined to feel that way. The simplest answer is often
the correct one.”
“What about Shirley Edam’s alibi?” I asked.
“What about it?”
“Didn’t it seem awfully convenient to you that the one person who could attest to her location during the murder happens to be out of touch for the foreseeable future on a cruise? We’re in the age of mass communication, and yet we can’t make a simple telephone call to confirm her whereabouts.”
“It happens,” Jake said.
I was really getting frustrated with my husband’s pat answers. “Jake, am I going crazy here?”
“Of course not,” he said soothingly. “I understand the instinct not to let go of the case until there’s a complete and satisfying resolution, but we really don’t have much choice.”
“We could press Shirley harder, and we could also go after Carl Descent more than we have so far. There’s something suspicious about his behavior in all of this that I just don’t like. He claimed to want to preserve the old building because of his grandfather, but other reports we got were that he was going to raze the structure to the ground as soon as all of the papers were signed. Something just doesn’t add up.”
“Is it possible that you’re just being paranoid?” Jake asked me gently.
“Anything’s possible, I suppose,” I said. “I still want to do some more digging.”
Jake sighed, and then he got up from the couch. “Fine by me. Where should we start?”
“Sit back down,” I said with a smile. “You’ve been looking forward to that Law and Order marathon on television for days. Watch the good guys catch the bad guys.”
“What are you going to do while I’m watching? I don’t want you interviewing any suspects alone, even if I do think the case is over,” Jake said.
“How about if I just do a little more digging into some of the background of the case? If I promise not to speak with any of our other suspects directly, will you watch your show and let me satisfy my own curiosity?”
“That depends. What did you have in mind?”
“First of all, I’d like to talk to Momma about the building sale,” I said. “Somehow I believe everything hinges on that.”
“I can understand you thinking that. It’s not just the scene of the crime; it’s also where the motivation for the murder was supplied.”
“If Jim actually killed Sully,” I amended.
“If,” he agreed. “Are you sure that you don’t want me to go with you?”
“Positive,” I said. “Enjoy yourself. Crack open a soda, break out the chips, and have a blast.”
The familiar bars of the Law and Order opening played, and as Jake glanced at the television screen, he said, “If you’re sure that it’s okay, I think I’ll stay here.”
“Just because we’re married, it doesn’t have to mean that we do everything together,” I said as I kissed the top of his head. “I just want to snoop around a little to satisfy this nagging feeling I’ve been having in the pit of my gut.” I glanced at the television. “Besides, I’ve already seen just about every episode of that show ever made.”
“Okay, but call me if you need me,” he said, already lost in the blooming storyline on television. I loved my husband, but he was clearly a man of limited interests. He had lived the life of a detective, and now he was experiencing it vicariously on television. I was going to have to find something meaningful for him to do before he got bored out of his mind with his situation, but that was going to have to wait.
Right now, I needed to talk to Momma.
“Suzanne, what a treat to see you so unexpectedly,” Momma said, holding her phone to her chest as she opened her front door. “Come in. I’ll just be one minute.”
“Thanks,” I said as I came in.
Momma nodded at me, and then she returned to her call. “Carl, I’m sorry, but it’s not going to happen, no matter how generous your offer might be. No, not even a ghost is going to persuade me. Good-bye, Carl.” After Momma hung up, she said, “I’ll give the man credit; at least he’s persistent.”
“Is Descent still trying to buy the wagon factory from you, even after everything that’s happened lately?”
“He is, but it’s all in vain. I’m determined to see this rehab through to the end, no matter what. The factory is going to be a showplace for April Springs, and I’m going to be the one behind it. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Do you have a second?”
“For you? Always,” she answered. “Phillip is in the den poring over more papers from the wagon factory. He’s convinced that there’s gold hidden on the premises, no matter how much I try to dissuade him of the notion.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked.
“Oh, no, not you, too. Don’t tell me you’ve caught the gold fever yourself.”
I shrugged. “The stories are all clear enough. Martin Polly didn’t trust banks, or even paper money all that much. He must have done something with all of that gold.”
“I’m sure that he spent it,” Momma said, “Or at least his family did. I can’t imagine that there’d be any place left in that old building that we haven’t looked.”
“Have you been actively trying to find it, yourself?” I asked her. My mother was a great many things, but trying to get rich quick didn’t fit her profile at all.
“Of course not, but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t kept my eyes open during the renovation. We were able to recover a great deal of the cash Jim stole, and I consider that the only bonus we’ll ever get from the project, not that it was an inconsiderable sum.”
“How much cash did he find?” I asked.
“Jim confessed to finding thirty thousand dollars, and he admitted to spending a little under two of that, so all in all, it’s not bad, though it’s not exactly what I’d call a fortune.”
“How was he planning to retire on twenty-eight thousand bucks?” I asked. “He’d be lucky if that lasted him a year, the way that he was spending it.”
“I honestly don’t believe that he was thinking that far ahead,” Momma allowed.
“You missed that stash of cash,” I pointed out. “How can you be so sure that there’s not another hiding place somewhere else within the building?”
“You and Jake searched the second floor, and we’ve ripped up nearly every floorboard on the first floor. If it’s there, where could it be?”
“I don’t know, could it be squirreled away somewhere inside a wall?” I asked.
“Sorry, but we stripped the walls down to the studs so we could rewire and insulate the first and second floors.”
“How about the attic?”
“We’ve been over every square inch of it. There was nothing there,” she said confidently.
“The basement?” I asked, desperate to find an answer.
“There isn’t one. Not even a crawl space,” Momma answered. “I’m sorry, but there is no more treasure left in that building.”
“Actually, it might be too soon to say that,” Phillip said as he came into the room holding a faded letter in his hands. “I might have found something.”
“What is it?” Momma asked.
“Listen to this. I found a copy of another letter from Martin Polly. ‘The emblem of my company holds the only real value to my life. Beneath it is everything that matters to me, and I’ll go to my grave knowing that keeping it safe is the noblest thing that I can do.’ What do you think of that? I’m not exactly sure what it means, but it’s an odd way to phrase his beliefs, isn’t it?”
“The man was proud of the company he built almost single-handedly,” Momma said. “What’s all that surprising about that?”
That’s when I got it. “That’s not it. What if the meaning of that passage is literal?”
“What, that the stones and timber used to create the seal in the floor are made of gold?”
“Hear me out,” I said, suddenly getting excited by my new theory. “Who did he write that letter to, Phillip?”
“His wife, Enid,” my step
father supplied.
“When did he write it?”
“It was dated a month after the factory opened,” he supplied. “She was visiting with her family in Los Angeles during her father’s long illness. She wasn’t on the scene the entire time that the factory was being built, and he kept a copy of every letter he wrote to her while she was away.”
“What’s your point, Suzanne?” my mother asked.
“Momma, you said yourself that you’ve explored just about every nook and cranny of the entire building. Let me ask you something. Did you ever disturb the wagon factory emblem in the course of everything that you’ve done so far?”
Momma frowned. “No, we wanted to leave it intact for history’s sake. Phillip, it was your idea. Suzanne, surely you don’t think it’s valuable.”
“Other than as a window to the past? No, I don’t think so. I’ve studied the stone and wood carefully. They’re real enough.”
“Then what do you mean?” Phillip asked, getting caught up in my enthusiasm.
“I’m not talking about the materials we can see,” I said. “I’m referring to the space beneath them. We’ve already seen that Martin Polly liked secret hiding places. The cache of money proves that. What I’m wondering is if there’s one more niche that we haven’t uncovered yet.”
“I don’t know,” Momma said. “It all seems rather farfetched to me.”
“But it’s possible, isn’t it?” I asked.
“In order to find out,” Phillip said, “we’re going to have to tear up the last piece of floor that we’ve been trying to preserve.”
“Not if we do it right. There must be some sort of catch or release hidden somewhere if there’s a cache there. All we have to do is find it. Who wants to go with me?”
“I’ll go,” Phillip said eagerly.
I turned to my mother. “Momma? How about you?”
“I’m sorry, but I just put a cake in the oven, so I have to be here for at least another half an hour. Can it wait?”
“Tell you what,” Phillip said. “Why don’t Suzanne and I go check it out? If we find anything, we’ll head straight back here and tell you all about it.”