by Nic Saint
I grinned. In death, Gemma wasn’t pulling any punches.
Virgil rubbed his thinning mane. “Does it show? I thought I had another few good years left.”
“No, you don’t, honey,” Gemma said. “It’s now or never. Once you go bald it’ll be a hard sell to go full transplant. Everyone will know and people talk.”
Virgil looked over at me. “What do you think, Alice?”
“Go for it,” I said. “Or go for the Bruce Willis look. Either way, I think you’ll be fine.”
“Don’t go Bruce, baby,” Gemma said. “It’s not an easy look to pull off. And you have an odd-shaped head, Virgil.”
He rubbed his dome again. “You think so?”
“Uh-huh. Egg-shaped. You’ll look terrible with no hair to hide it.”
“Mother thinks…” He gulped when both Gemma and I groaned.
“Never again utter those words, Virgil,” Gemma said. “They’re the most unsexy words in the universe, and a great, big turnoff. Isn’t that right, Alice?”
I nodded. Nobody had ever mentioned this to Virgil, but he was a real mama’s boy. Whatever Marjorie said, Virgil did. Which was probably the reason he was still single. Not many girls wanted to compete for Virgil’s attention with Marjorie Scattering.
“So what about Henry Jackson?” I asked, the subject of Virgil’s hair not all that appealing to me.
“I caught him with his hand in the till.”
“Literally with his hand in the till? I didn’t know you still had money in the till?”
“Not literally, silly. I was checking the books one night and found that a big chunk of money had gone into some dummy account. When I tried to figure out who it belonged to, I saw that Henry had created it himself, and had also done the transfer. So I reported it to corporate and they suspended him.”
“When was this?”
“Last week.”
I shared a look with Virgil. This could be it. Maybe Henry thought that if he made Gemma disappear, and then covered his tracks, he might salvage what was left of his career. Or maybe he’d already moved the money to an offshore account and was ready to make a run for it and wanted to take out his whistleblower. Whatever the case, this looked like a really good lead.
“So do you think Henry killed you?” Virgil asked.
Gemma sighed. “I keep trying to recall the face of the person who snuck up on me, but so far all I’ve got is zilch. If anything, I’m feeling more and more fuzzy about the whole thing.”
She was right. As I looked back, I saw she was growing distinctly dimmer. I’d seen this before. Some spirits stuck around until they were ready to move on, while others simply moved on of their own accord, whether their business on this mortal plane was resolved or not. It looked as if we were going to have to hurry to solve this case before Gemma disappeared completely.
We’d arrived at Henry Jackson’s house on the outskirts of Happy Bays. He lived on Billionaire Lane, even though he wasn’t a billionaire. At least not to my knowledge. He was a second-generation banker, though, as his dad before him had managed our branch of Armstrong & Tillich.
We got out and once again Virgil was checking left and right, as if he wanted to make sure Rock Walker or my dad were nowhere in sight. We walked up the paved footpath to the front door and I admired the front yard, which was perfectly manicured. I could even see a garden gnome planted there, and a small fish pond for decorative purposes.
Virgil rang the bell, and when I looked around I saw that Gemma had vanished. Looked like she didn’t want to be present when we interviewed her former boss.
A gray-haired woman in her mid-fifties opened the door. Her face looked drawn and haggard. I recognized her as Henry’s wife.
“Hello, Mrs. Jackson,” Virgil said smoothly. “Is your husband in?”
She glanced at me, but when Virgil didn’t offer any explanation for my presence, she stepped aside. “Please come in. Henry is out on the deck. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
“Oh, please don’t bother,” Virgil said. “We’ll just walk on through, shall we?”
The woman nodded, and seemed about to burst into tears. She excused herself and disappeared upstairs.
We crossed the hallway into the living room and found ourselves in a roomy and well-appointed cozy space, two Barcaloungers in front of a large flatscreen TV indicating how the Jacksons spent their evenings.
The French doors were open and we stepped through them and onto the deck, where we found Henry Jackson, sipping a brandy and looking even gloomier than his wife. The jowly banker looked up when we arrivedht and uttered a startled cry.
“Oh, Officer Scattering,” he said, getting up. “Are you here to… arrest me?”
Virgil held up a placating hand. “Nothing of the kind, Henry. Just wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“I didn’t do it, if that’s what you think,” Henry said, plunking back down and gesturing at two chairs.
I spotted a pool table and a bookcase groaning under financial tomes. In the corner I saw a small collection of Star Wars memorabilia, which drew a smile from me. So the banker was also a Star Wars fan, huh? Who would have thought?
“You didn’t do what?” Virgil asked.
“Steal that money, of course. That’s what you’re here for, right? I already talked to the lawyer from corporate and told him exactly the same thing. That account Gemma Weston was going on about? I set that up for a client of mine. I won’t divulge his name until I have to, but he gave me strict instructions to create this exact structure. That money she found isn’t mine. It belonged to the client. And I hope they unblock it very soon, or Armstrong & Tillich is going to face some tough questions from one of our best customers.”
“I’m not here about that, Henry,” Virgil said. “Though I’m sure that this whole affair touches upon it. Gemma Weston was found murdered two nights ago. And we’re interviewing everyone she knew to see if we can’t find out who is responsible.”
He stared at Virgil, then at me. “So… You’re not here about the embezzlement charge?”
I shook my head. “No. Just want to ask you a few questions about Gemma.”
He barked an incredulous laugh. “You think I killed Gemma? Because she filed those charges against me? That’s almost as preposterous as this embezzlement nonsense!”
“We still have to ask,” I said.
He nodded, raking his fingers through his gray hair. “She was a strange girl, Gemma Weston. I thought I knew her but it turns out that I didn’t.”
“What do you mean?” Virgil asked.
He looked up, and I could see he was looking just as haggard as his wife. This affair was killing him. “Gemma knew perfectly well that there’s nothing wrong with the way I set up this account. In fact I told her. And she still went and reported me.” He shook his head. “The only thing I can think of is that she did it to go after my position. With me gone, and the backing from corporate, she might have become manager of the Happy Bays branch herself.”
I groaned inwardly. I didn’t doubt for a second he was right. The Gemma I knew was intensely ambitious. This was just the kind of stunt she’d pull. “Which is all the more reason why you might have a motive to get rid of her,” Virgil said, ever the diplomat.
Henry looked pained. “I didn’t kill her, Officer. I’m not a violent man. I may have had a grievance against the woman, but I didn’t kill her. Just ask my wife. I was home with her all evening. In fact I haven’t left the house since I was asked to step down as manager, awaiting further investigation.” He sighed. “And I may never leave this house again. Can you imagine what a thing like this does to a banker? Even if my name is cleared, who is ever going to trust me with their money again?”
I rose and walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “I would,” I said simply.
He gave me a feeble smile and patted my hand. “Thank you, dear.”
We walked through the house and let ourselves out. Out on the porch, Virgil blew out a deep sigh
. “That was deeply unpleasant.”
“I believe him, actually,” I said. “I don’t think he did it.”
“The embezzlement or the murder?”
“Neither.”
Virgil nodded. “I don’t think he did it, either. Which leaves us back where we started. Nowhere.”
We walked down the steps to the footpath and a police car drove up and parked right behind Virgil’s patrol car. I could see Virgil stiffening.
“Oh, dear,” he muttered.
Rock Walker emerged from the vehicle, took off his sunglasses and leaned against the hood of the car until we joined him.
He glanced up at the sky. “Nice day for sleuthing. And I see you’ve decided to deputize the Chief’s daughter, Virgil?”
“I didn’t deputize her, Rock,” Virgil stammered. “Should I have?”
Rock gave him a long, penetrating look. “What did the Chief tell us about involving civilians in our investigation?”
“Um, not to do it?” Virgil asked tentatively.
Rock smiled. “I’m happy to discover there’s nothing wrong with your hearing after all. I was starting to worry. So it’s your mind that’s gone to mush.”
“I just happened to bump into Virgil, Rock,” I said. “He didn’t bring me along. I arrived just when he did, so we decided to go in together.”
He looked around. “So where’s your bicycle?”
“I walked.”
“All the way from downtown Happy Bays to Billionaire Lane?”
“Yup. I love walking. Keeps me fit and happy.”
“I don’t believe this,” he said, raising his eyes heavenward. “Literally.”
“Look, I know the Chief doesn’t like his daughter to get involved, Rock,” Virgil said. “But Alice and her committee have proved invaluable before.”
“The Chief told us not to involve any civilians.”
Virgil shrugged. “This has nothing to do with civilians. He just wants to protect Alice.”
I looked up sharply. “He told you specifically to keep me out of the loop?”
“He did. Which is also why he…” Virgil looked particularly pained now.
“Come on,” said Rock. “Out with it, man.”
“Which is why… Curtis made sure Alice could never pass police academy.”
“What?!” I exclaimed.
“Oh, man,” Rock muttered.
“He made me promise not to tell you,” Virgil said pleadingly. “I don’t even know why he confided in me. The Chief never confides in me. But he confided in me this time. He made a deal with the academy director he would never let you pass. He said he didn’t want his little girl exposed to the kind of stuff cops have to deal with on a daily basis.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“He did it for your own good. To keep you safe.”
“Well, that wasn’t his choice to make,” I said. I was fuming. All my life I’d wanted to be a cop and my own dad had made sure I would never get to become one? Aargh!
Rock gave me a commiserating look. “I know how you must feel.”
“Do you? Do you really?”
He grimaced. “Maybe not really.”
I gave Virgil a punch on the shoulder.
“Ouch. What did you do that for?”
“For not leveling with me.”
“Alice, he made me promise!”
“He’s your boss but I’m your friend, Virgil. What do you think is more important, huh?”
Virgil looked puzzled. “Is this a trick question?”
I gave an exasperated laugh. It was impossible to be mad at Virgil. He was like a puppy that peed on your leg. You could be mad for a second, until he looked at you with those big, brown puppy eyes.
I patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you your dad sabotaged your life.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds terrible,” Rock said.
“It is terrible.” On the bright side, maybe now I could finally take the test and pass and become a cop. If Dad didn’t pull another stunt and make me fail again. I wouldn’t put it past him. At any rate, he and I were going to have a long father-daughter talk very soon. And this time I was going to be asking the questions, and he was going to be supplying the answers. Or else.
Chapter 8
Virgil took me back to the town center. I was fuming all the way there, trying very hard not to take it out on Virgil. How could he do this to me? My own dad! He knew how important police academy was to me. How could he sabotage my dreams like that? Oh, he was going to pay. He was going to pay dearly.
“Where do you want me to drop you off?” Virgil asked. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet, not wanting to poke the bear.
“Just… take me to Mrs. Evergreen’s place. I have to relieve your mother.”
“My mother is at Mrs. Evergreen’s?”
“We’re watching her.”
He raised an eyebrow but knew better than to ask. And I wasn’t in the mood to explain our motives for keeping Mrs. Evergreen under surveillance. He wouldn’t understand. For cops, these minor infractions like public urination, not picking up your dog’s business, or even littering, are a nuisance and they don’t like to be bothered. That’s where the watch comes in. To pick up the slack. We fulfill a vital function in that sense, though we’re probably the only ones who see it that way.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” I told Virgil when he continued mystified.
“Oh, but I do,” he assured me. “Mom never shuts up about it.”
That, I could imagine. “So what are you doing about it?”
“Um…” His hands tightened on the wheel, and he gave me a quick sideways glance, gauging my mood. “The moment you catch her in the act, I’m going to write her a ticket?”
I gave him my best scowl. “Just a ticket?”
He groaned. “What do you expect me to do? Throw her in jail? Confiscate her dog? What? It’s just doo-doo, Alice. It’s not exactly a criminal offense.”
“See? That’s exactly what’s wrong with the police force in this town. You don’t take anything seriously. The streets are smeared with dog doo and littered with cigarette butts and gunky pieces of gum and you don’t care!” My voice had gone shrill, and even though I knew my anger had nothing to do with Sheena or Virgil, I couldn’t stop myself. I pointed an accusing finger at Virgil. “This is all my father’s fault. He’s a lousy police chief.”
Virgil grinned. “I can’t wait until you tell him that to his face.”
“Oh, don’t think I won’t, cause I will.”
“I believe you.”
“You better.”
I sank into a moody silence, and when we finally arrived on Mrs. Evergreen’s street, Virgil seemed relieved. “Tell my mother I’ll be late for dinner,” he said before I slammed the door.
“Tell her yourself,” I grumbled, and then I did slam the door, only to immediately yank it open again. “Sorry about that, Virgil. That was uncalled for.”
He gave me another grin. “Apology accepted. And good luck with the doo-doo watch. And don’t forget to make a citizen’s arrest of the dog. Slap a pair of cuffs on her.” And with a final smirk, he drove off, giving me a cheery wave.
Ugh. Nice.
I darted across the street, where I found Marjorie ensconced in her blue Mini Cooper. I tapped the window and she started violently, upsetting the cup of coffee she was holding. I could hear a few choice curses before she rolled down the window.
“And?” I asked. “Any luck?”
She shook her head sadly. “Nothing so far. I think she knows we’re out here.”
“Well, she can’t wait all day. Sooner or later nature will call, and when it does, we’ll be waiting.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” Marjorie said. “I’d keep you company, but I have to go and open the library.”
I tapped the roof of the car. “I’ll keep you posted. Oh, and Virgil told me to tell you he’d be late for dinner.�
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She frowned. “Why?”
“No idea.” He probably was going to Jack’s Joint to drink a few beers with his cop buddies. Marjorie hates it when he does that. She likes Virgil to be home nice and early and in time for dinner.
Marjorie drove off, and I darted into the small park opposite Mrs. Evergreen’s house. It’s just a small strip with a few shrubs and a bench but it would do nicely for my surveillance. At times like these I wished I’d gotten my driver’s license and could hide out in my car. Have an actual stakeout. But since that was not an option, I took a seat on the bench and ducked down so I was partially hidden by the shrubs but could still keep an eye on Mrs. Evergreen’s front door.
The moment she set foot outside, I would be on her like white on rice. If I got lucky she’d walk Sheena in the mini park and I wouldn’t even have to leave my bench to catch her in the act.
Minutes passed and I was getting bored. I’d popped in earbuds and was listening to some Ed Sheeran, humming along with Shape of You. I probably should have listened to an audiobook on the latest police techniques, but I couldn’t be bothered at this point.
A snail was crawling up my sneaker and I shook it off. A car engine gunned in the street and I jerked up, thinking it sounded a lot like a gunshot. And I was intently studying an ant valiantly and persistently dragging a blade of grass back to its ant hill when finally there was movement across the street and I sat up, like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey.
Mrs. Evergreen stuck her nose out, peered left and right, then stepped out onto the top step, Sheena by her side. We were in business! The old lady deftly descended the three steps to the street and started on her walk. Sheena seemed happy finally to be allowed outside again, for she was prancing like a diva, nose in the air and butt waggling excitedly.
I took out my camera and tripped over to the far wall of the park, peeking around the corner. Then I went in pursuit of the woman, making sure I stayed out of sight, which was a lot harder than they make it look in the movies. And Sheena had just reached the corner when she halted at a nice lamppost, gave it a tentative sniff and lifted her hind leg.
“Oh, come on,” I muttered. “Just do it already, you dumb beast.”