Of course, she had to admit that he might have left a big donation and still have killed Michelle Smith.
The list of donations was in a small, hardbound accounts book. Jane leaned over Jake’s shoulder to read it with him.
He spun in his desk chair and pulled Jane to his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nibbled her neck.
“This isn’t helping.” Her heart thumped, and she was suddenly too hot in her sweater.
“Yes, it is.”
His lips on her neck were like nothing else. Like chocolate, and coffee, and everything. She took a deep breath. “No, really. It’s not helping.” She stood up.
Jake grinned. “You. That’s all. Just, you.” He took a deep breath. “What were we doing?”
“You…receipts. Me…sitting far, far away from you.” She took a chair across the room, but couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
His lips were curled in the smallest hint of a smile, just enough to make a dimple in his cheek. He caught her eye and winked. She wanted to concentrate on important things. Whatever those were.
She pulled up Beth from security’s phone number and called.
“Beth! Hey, this is Jane, the detective.”
Jake winked at her.
“I was just wondering if you had any news on Del.”
“Oh, I do! I can’t tell you how relieved I am.” Beth’s voice sounded relaxed and happy. Jane was thrilled for her, but wanted her to get to the point.
“Good news then?”
“Great news. He didn’t have a girl in the room at all.”
“That is good.” Jane tapped her heel. “What was the problem?”
Beth dropped her voice. “He’s pretty sure he disposed of the murder weapon.”
Jane almost dropped her phone. “What?”
“He slipped out to use the bathroom, which is totally against the rules if you are in the box alone. Some guy saw him come out of the security room and followed him into the bathroom. He kind of, like, threatened him, you know? Like, said he’d tell the boss and get Del fired if he didn’t take this huge Hefty bag of garbage and put it on the curb at his house.”
Red flags flew up all over the story. Jane grabbed a pencil and started writing. “How did the man know Del wasn’t supposed to go to the bathroom?”
“He asked a bunch of questions first. Del wasn’t supposed to be alone, but there was, like, an hour or something when he was. It happens sometimes. The guy kind of chatted him up, discovered what he needed to know, and then made him take the bag.”
“Did Del do it?”
“Sort of. He stuck it in a bathroom stall and was going to take it home. He thought it must have had some kind of drugs stuff in it, like used needles or something. But when he got back from the bathroom, obviously there was chaos at the party and he was pretty sure he knew what had happened. He got Lafayette on the walkie and confessed all, but when they went to the bathroom, the bag was gone. She had to put him on admin leave.”
Jane scratched her head and frowned. “He gave the description of the guy to the cops, right?”
“Of course.”
“But why did he show up to work again and lie to you about the admin leave?”
Beth laughed softly. “He was really embarrassed. I shouldn’t say anything, but he has a juvie record that I didn’t know about until now. This just hit too close to home, and he panicked.”
“I see.” Juvenile criminal record, eh? Maybe the man with the bag was a lie to cover the murder?
“My bus just got here. I’ve got to go. I hope that helped.”
“Wait—do you think I can talk to Del? I’d love to hear his description of the guy who gave him the bag.”
“That’s not a good idea. He really doesn’t want to talk about it. Have a great day, okay?” Beth hung up.
Through the whole conversation, Beth had been fairly relaxed. She had a twinge of emotion when she mentioned Del’s record, but overall, she had come across as entirely honest. So at the very least she was reporting exactly what Del had said. Unfortunately, Jane had failed, yet again, to get Del’s last name.
“I found the donation.” Jake sounded disappointed. “Twenty thousand dollars from Miter Farms to Helping Hands E. C.”
“Who invited Jason Miter to the fundraiser?” Jane sat on the edge of Jake’s desk, across from him.
“That’s anyone’s guess. He’s not on my list or Gemma’s. Until now, I’d never heard of him.”
“Do you think Sasha might have invited him to force him to interact with Michelle?”
“Maybe. Why don’t you call her and ask?”
Jane had Sasha’s number up on her phone almost immediately, but she had to leave a message. She filled in the gaps of her conversation with Beth. “What do you think, Jake? Do we trust Del’s account?”
“I think we need to confirm it with the security boss.”
“Did you see anyone taking trash out in the middle of our party?”
“No, remember, almost as soon as Michelle was stabbed, we had the room organized and ready for the cops. Nobody came or went. I bet he got the trash bag from one of the other events that night. Jason wore black and might have fit in with the service crews at the events. Del would have had his security uniform on and would also have looked like he was supposed to be there. If the killer had to ditch the knife, all he had to do was sneak into a different party and steal a trash bag. The idea of getting someone else to ditch it on their curb strikes me as particularly genius.”
“Evil genius, anyway. I wonder what the police know?”
“You’re going to have to develop a network of official connections in the future, Janey. We can’t do every case in the dark like this.”
“You’re right…but at the moment, I have no idea how to do that.”
The office phone rang. Jake answered it and started talking restaurant business stuff. Jane waved and left.
She didn’t want to go home and face Gemma just yet, so she went to the convention center to try and find Lafayette.
***
At the convention center, Jane went straight to the information booth. The assistant manning the station walkied Lafayette for Jane.
When Lafayette arrived, she led Jane to a small office like you might see at a car dealership, just a little room with a desk and some chairs. “What can I do for you?” Lafayette was petite, but she had an intimidating presence. Lines around her mouth seemed to indicate a permanent frown.
“Thanks for making time for me.” Jane took a seat, but maintained her posture. “Jake Crawford hired me to look into the murder of Michelle Smith. I’ve been in touch with one of your security guards, Beth, and she told me an interesting story.”
Lafayette took a seat. Her face relaxed. “Did she?”
“Apparently Beth’s boyfriend, Del, got himself administrative leave because of his actions the night of the murder.” Jane raised one eyebrow and smiled. “But he tried to hide that from his girlfriend.”
Lafayette chuckled. “And you met him here not long after, pretending like he hadn’t gotten into trouble.”
“That’s right.” Jane began to drum her pencil on her notepad, but stopped herself. She didn’t want to appear either nervous or impatient.
“And you want to know what he did to get himself in trouble.”
“Beth told me a version of the story.”
“But you wonder if Del can be trusted?” Lafayette looked at her watch. “He’s a good guy. He has a past, but he’s a good guy. Why he snuck off with so much going on in the center that night is only as mysterious as why the other guy was late. It was poor planning. Del’s not the brightest bulb, but he’s not bad.” She nodded in a way that appeared conclusive.
“So what became of the bag of trash?”
“Ahh.” Lafayette folded her hands. “The police questioned janitorial. They didn’t see the bag in the bathroom stall. The current theory is that the killer noticed where Del put it and went back for it.”
“That makes sense, however, that bag of trash is the proof that what Del said was true.”
Lafayette sighed. She leaned forward. “Crawford hired you to look into the murder, which is…odd. Nonetheless, you are here. The police have been here already and asked all of these questions. I have a feeling you will ‘solve’ this murder when you read whodunit on Twitter.”
Jane frowned. “You feel I am asking the wrong questions.”
“And the wrong person.”
Jane rubbed her lips together. It seemed to her that Lafayette knew something, and instead of being the wrong questions to the wrong person, Jane was onto it, and that made the head of security nervous. Jane crossed her legs and settled back into her chair. “Why were there only two men scheduled to be in the security office that night?”
Lafayette lifted her eyebrow. “One called in sick and one was late. I called around, but two was the best we could do.”
“Who called in sick?” Jane toyed with her pencil, hoping it made her look nonchalant.
“One of our new guards.”
“Is he in today?”
“No.” Lafayette looked from her watch to the door and then to her watch again. She eventually settled her eyes on Jane and stood up. “Good luck with your investigation.”
“Just one more question.” Jane scrambled for a question that would make Lafayette sit down and keep talking. Lafayette didn’t like the direction her questions had gone…the bag of trash was a problem, or proving what Del claimed was a problem. Which was it? “What other evidence do you have to prove what Del claimed is true? Oh, and what’s Del’s last name?”
Lafayette inhaled sharply. “Del’s last name? It’s Willis. Surveillance video clearly shows him entering the bathroom, followed by a man with a hat who kept his face pointedly away from the cameras. The man was carrying a big, black trash bag.”
Lafayette walked out.
Del Willis.
Since the office was empty, Jane made herself comfortable. She preferred her laptop for lengthy trawls through Google, but she had her phone, and a notebook, so she could learn something before she had to go again. But before she got any further than laying everything out on the table, she remembered something Beth had said. Meryl Lafayette had a son in the police. What if the police had come down, chatted up staff, learned that Del was a Willis, and then Meryl Lafayette had had a conversation with her son that tied Del Willis to Rose of Sharon Willis, the nice, kindly, nonviolent protester who happened to have a son—with a criminal record?
16
Oswego Valley Memorial Gardens had fit Michelle Smith’s funeral in on New Year’s Eve Day to accommodate the next of kin—Michelle’s son Doug’s—travel schedule.
Jane shivered in her black raincoat. The wind whipped her hair and the rain fell in freezing sheets. She hung to the back of the crowd of grievers as they made their way to the graveside. The frosted grass crunched under her feet. The roads would be dangerous after the freezing rain, but Jane tried not to worry about it.
Michelle’s mortal remains were being buried, and a hundred or so of her friends, old church members, and families from her school had gathered to say goodbye. Carrie, the assistant Jane had met a couple of days ago, wept into the end of her brown plaid scarf. Sasha Henry held a white handkerchief to her nose, and her eyes were painfully red. Michelle Smith’s son Doug choked up during his speech. He couldn’t finish what he had to say about his mom, who had just retired to see her grandkids grow up.
Jane squeezed Jake’s hand. New Year’s Eve Day promised treacherous driving for the night, and the tangible grief in the crowd made it obvious none of those present would be ringing in the New Year with good cheer. Jane wanted nothing more than to get back inside—and take some pictures of the guest book.
With a crowd almost as big as the one at the charity event, she and Jake had their work cut out for them, if they really intended to check each name against the other list. Jane took a deep, strengthening breath. It was the most detectivey thing she could think of, and she had to start doing some real detective work. She couldn’t let this murder get solved by chance, or worse yet, by the regular police.
“They’re praying,” Jake whispered.
Jane bowed her head.
From the back of the crowd they could sneak back into the funeral home before everyone else—but only by a minute or two.
The pastor of Michelle’s old church finished the prayer and began a song. It was thirty degrees, wet, and December thirty-first, but the crowd sang about dancing on streets that were golden. Jane gave Jake’s hand a little tug, ready to turn back, but Jake just pulled her arm closer as he sang.
When the last lines of the last time through the bridge died down, a new song rose up, but this time from the back. Gruff but emotional voices, quiet at first, but growing stronger, started in on “Apples and Bananas.”
Jane swung around. Forty or more Helpers, with Rose of Sharon in the middle, held hands in a semicircle, almost like an embrace around the mourners. Their faces turned up to the steely, cold sky, their cheeks tearstained. They sang the silly camp song almost reverently, then stopped.
Jane recognized Yuri at the tail end of the crowd, shuffling his feet. Yuri had come…to make it clear he wasn’t the murderer? He had hung around towards the unlikely end of her suspects list for a long time…his appearance at the funeral shot him up a few notches.
She’d have to watch him a little closer.
“May I say a few words?” Rose of Sharon’s voice cracked, and she was hard to hear, even from where Jane stood. The pastor didn’t hear her at all and dismissed the crowd, asking them to return to the reception inside.
Jane led the crowd inside, passing a confused and distraught-looking Rose of Sharon as she went.
Jane stopped in the foyer and watched the mourners go into the reception. Many peeled away and went to the parking lot instead, but a solid fifty or more stayed for the potluck. As she expected, they grouped together around tables and didn’t intermingle. “Could you go in and sort of meet people?” Jane nodded towards the door. “Maybe go table to table finding out who all is staying.”
“Sure.” Jake focused on a loud table near the front. “I’ll case the joint while you take pictures of the guest book.”
They parted, but Jane still hung back. The Helpers were lined up to sign the guest book. Jane spotted Valeria with her husband and, almost too good to be true, she saw Del and Beth with Rose of Sharon and two other girls…perhaps the daughters Clove and Isis.
Rose of Sharon had said that her girls went to Trillium Montessori. They looked to be teenagers, so perhaps they were a second family of sorts. Much younger than Del, the thirty-two-year-old security guard.
Jane stepped quietly across the deep rug and joined the Willis group. “I’m glad you all were able to make it.” She kept her voice low.
Rose of Sharon gave her a side hug. “We tried to be on time, but it was difficult on the bridge today.”
“I’m hungry.” The shorter of the two girls sounded like a child, though she was clearly in her late teen years. Her eyes didn’t seem to focus well, and she sort of slumped against Del’s arm.
“Shush. We’ll eat in a minute.” Del patted her arm in a brotherly fashion. Beth stood with the other Willis girl, who was taller and had an appealing look of curiosity on her face.
“Let’s say hello to Doug, and then we can leave.” Rose of Sharon took the hungry girl’s arm from Del and went into the reception.
Jane tapped Beth’s shoulder. “Do you think Del told Rose of Sharon about our event so she could protest it?”
Beth frowned. “He loves his stepmom to death, but he has never been a protester. Not even after Isis’s accident.” Beth hurried after her boyfriend.
Jane kept up with her. “What accident?”
Beth checked out where Rose of Sharon was in the room and then stopped. “She’s got a peanut allergy and almost died from it. When she came home, they realized she had permanent brain
damage.”
“Oh my gosh! That’s awful!” Jane swallowed.
“Del was devastated. He loves his baby sisters like they’re his own. He was really angry about it for a long time, but he thought Rose of Sharon dealt with it wrong.”
“What did Del think she should have done?”
Beth chewed on her bottom lip.
“You can tell me.”
Beth shook her head.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
Over Beth’s shoulder, Jane saw Rose of Sharon embrace Doug Smith. Doug held onto her in a tight embrace, his head rested on her shoulder.
“Michelle was a very, very good friend of Rose’s, wasn’t she?”
“Yes.” Beth paused. “Del thought…well, I mean, he doesn’t think it anymore, but at the time, he was young—just seventeen—and he thought his dad should have sued the school. Everyone knew about Isis’s allergies.”
Jane’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Miter might have owed Smith a lot of money, but this Del kid had a serious, long-term grudge against Michelle Smith. And he had been out of his office during the murder and had gotten rid of the murder weapon.
Jane scanned the room for Jake. He had his arm around a grey-haired woman who was laughing, even though tears rolled down her cheeks.
“They did a craft with peanut shells. It was too much for her and she went into anaphylactic shock. By the time she was revived at the hospital, she had been without oxygen for too long.”
“How could Rose of Sharon find it in her heart to forgive Michelle for this?”
“How does anyone forgive? Rose of Sharon loves Jesus. Plus, Michelle was at a conference that week. She couldn’t have stopped the tragedy. Rose of Sharon understands that. And of course, Del gets it now. But back then, he was deeply angry.”
Bright New Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery Page 11