“Her name is Dauphine Ritter,” Brenda said.
“Really? I thought it would be you,” I said.
“Right,” she said as she looked at me. “That doesn’t mean I killed him, though.”
“I, uh, well, I didn’t think that.”
“It was just a couple of months ago I was taken out of the hierarchy,” she said. “I was angry and hurt, but if you think about it logically, I would have waited until he put me back in the chain to want any harm to come to him.”
“Brenda, I’m not accusing you of anything. I know you’re stressed, and because of that you might say something you don’t mean. You’ve thought about answers to questions that someone might ask, but not me.”
She sighed deeply. “Yes, I am stressed, and I’m upset about Dauphine. I was the one who was to be in charge, but Lloyd got angry at me, so he made the change. He was spiteful like that sometimes.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard that he was spiteful. Who else was he spiteful to?” I took a drink of soda, trying to remain casual.
“Oh, he was spiteful to everyone at some point or another,” she said. “Even got mad at Dillon once, and it’s difficult to be angry at Dillon.”
I looked at Dillon.
“I was late for a delivery. I shouldn’t have been late, and he called me the next day and told me to come back to work,” Dillon said. “I always liked him, no matter.”
“He was three minutes late,” Brenda said.
“He fired you?” I said.
“Just told me to leave.”
“He was a tyrant?” I said.
“No!” they said together.
“He was a good guy with a short fuse for imperfection,” Brenda said. “His interpretation of perfection was important. And he was successful enough that he could behave any way he wanted to behave.”
I disagreed, but now wasn’t the time to say so.
“Who’s Dauphine?” I said.
“His office manager,” Dillon said. “She doesn’t understand the company at all.”
“Weren’t you his right hand, left hand, everything? What did you do to make him angry?” I said to Brenda.
“There’s too much of a history to put this in the proper context, but yes, I was actively involved.”
I pushed my plate back a little. “We have all night.”
She shook her head.
Dillon wiped his mouth with his napkin and then placed it on his plate. “Excuse me, I’ll be back in a bit.”
“That wasn’t too obvious,” Brenda said with a smile after he left the table. “He knows what happened, but he’s a nice kid, wants to spare me my dignity.”
“That bad?”
“It was pretty humiliating.”
“Want to share? Let me rephrase. I’d really like to hear the story.” I wished I could take notes.
“I need to share it with the police, Clare. I’ve thought about our dinner the other night and I know I wasn’t up-front with your friend, Jodie, but my only excuse is that I was still in such a state of shock over Lloyd’s death, no, his murder. It’s so unreal. It’s a terrible tragedy and Lloyd was more good than bad, but I should have been much more up front about the bad.”
“I can call Jodie and ask her to come join us,” I said.
“No, it’s all right. I’ll go talk to her or that other officer tomorrow, but I’ll tell you now. It started with a misunderstanding about the typewriters he wanted you to have. Well, those contraptions with the typewriters attached.”
“Hoovens. They were part typewriter, considered the first way to duplicate the same letter. Kind of the first computer.”
“I do know that. Now, at least. At the time, I thought the whole idea of going to an auction on a Sunday just to buy the ridiculous-looking things was . . . well, ridiculous. I’m afraid I was grumpy and Lloyd overheard me being grumpy to Dauphine. I should not have done that; it was very unprofessional. However, he took is so personally. He thought I was calling him ridiculous and he was extrasensitive to that sort of thing; well, sometimes. Sometimes he had thick skin, but sometimes not. He was an unusual man, but a very good one. Please don’t think I’m trying to tarnish his memory.” Her eyes welled with tears and I could see a pull of emotion at the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“You cared deeply for him,” I said.
She sent me an impatient glare.
I clarified. “As a person, not romantically, though you spent so much time together it would be easy to see something romantic develop. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for being human.”
“You truly shouldn’t mix business with pleasure, and we didn’t. But the way he handled moving the power of the company to Dauphine was embarrassing, humiliating. He announced it in a company meeting. You can imagine.”
“Why did you keep working there?”
She pushed up her glasses. I had to force myself not to mimic the move.
“Because before that he’d set me up to take over if something happened to him and I thought he’d go back to that plan. I thought maybe he’d even apologize and then put things back into place again. He didn’t, or he died before he had the chance.”
“You need to be brutally honest with Jodie about this. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you killed Lloyd, but what happened to you might help her find the real killer.”
“The officer who was also listed on the invitation, Creighton, came to see me at my hotel last night. He was in civilian clothes, but he had a badge. I would only talk to him in the lobby. It was weird at first, but he seemed pretty competent and not after anything but information about Lloyd’s company. I didn’t tell him any more than I told your friend and you. Should I call him too?”
“Jodie will tell him,” I said.
“So, who wants dessert?” Dillon asked as he slid into the booth next to Brenda. I caught their shared glance of understanding, but it was brief.
My suspicious mind wondered if maybe the entire thing had been scripted. Had Dillon’s request for me to go with him to the cemetery been the beginning of an act they’d planned, something that culminated with . . . well, with what exactly?
No, I was working too hard to find someone guilty enough to have committed murder. For a moment I marveled at the police and their ability to be suspicious but not paranoid.
And then we ordered cheesecake all around.
“This is crazy,” I whispered. I was sunk down low in the passenger seat of a car Jodie had either rented, borrowed, or stolen. She hadn’t given me a clear answer.
“Yeah, I know, but you said you wanted to join me.”
I’d called her right after I got home. She was parked on Main Street, a few stores down from Bygone. Creighton had gone into the Rusted Barrel, one of our local drinking establishments, and Jodie was waiting for him to come back out. She said if I hurried down the hill from Little Blue, I could join her in the car and spy. However, I needed to get into the car without anyone noticing, including all the people walking up and down the street enjoying the Star City nightlife. Despite the fact that it had been Creighton himself who told me earlier today to stop spying on people, I didn’t hesitate to set off down the hill. I’d been very sly and I didn’t think anyone had seen me. The car windows were blacked out, so no one could notice how foolish we looked.
“I do want to be here, but this is still a little crazy. What’s he been up to?” I said.
“Nothing much. He went home, changed clothes, went to the ATM, got some money, and came here.”
“By himself?”
“Yeah, I don’t know if he met anyone in there, but he didn’t pick up his latest fling on the way.”
“Maybe they met inside.”
“When did Creighton ever meet you anywhere? He picked you up all the time.”
“Not all the time, but if we were going
out he’d pick me up. I was the one to initiate meeting places if that was going to happen.” I stretched my neck and tried to look out farther. “You want me to go inside and see what’s going on? Wait, what do you think is going on?”
“I can’t be sure. Any locals inside know who he is. He’s not attempting anything undercover. He couldn’t pull that off in town.”
“Maybe he just wanted a beer.”
“When Creighton just wants a beer, what does he usually do?”
“Open his fridge.”
“He’s not social, but he made himself look nice and went to a bar.”
“My crack detective skills tell me there’s a girl in there he’s trying to meet or get to know or something like that,” I said.
“That’s what I was thinking too, but it still doesn’t fit.”
“Why don’t I just go in and pretend I’m looking for Seth? In fact, I bet I could call Seth and get him down here. He and Creighton seem to get along just fine.”
“They do, don’t they? That’s weird, but for another conversation. Yeah, call Seth. . . . No, wait—is that Howard?”
Along with his wardrobe, Howard’s persona had changed since high school. He moseyed up the hill with his cowboy hat in place. He looked so much like a cowboy that I imagined I could hear spurs on his boots jingle-jangling. He didn’t resemble the preppy kid he’d once been.
“Call Seth,” I said as I reached for the door handle. I wished that Nathan had called her to tell her what he’d overheard, but I doubted he had, and if I went into it now we might miss an opportunity. “Tell him to come meet us. Come in with him when he gets here.”
I got out of the car before Jodie could speak, but she was reaching for her phone, so I took that as agreement with my sketchy plan.
“Howard, hi!” I said as I greeted him at the bar’s doorway.
“Hey, Clare,” he said without a smile.
“You going in?”
“I am.”
“I’m supposed to meet my boyfriend and Jodie, but I’m early. Care for company?”
“Sure.” He couldn’t hide his hesitation, but he tried. I was probably cramping his style.
The bar was full with a typical Thursday night crowd of skiers and boarders who’d been on the slopes all day; some were still dressed in their ski gear. The air had been cold, but the sun had been bright over the past week, and even in the dim bar light I could spot a number of goggle burns.
Howard craned his neck as he looked around the narrow but deep space. His eyes landed on Creighton at the same time mine did.
“I’m meeting Creighton Wentworth,” Howard said.
“We’re friends,” I said.
“Want to join us?”
“Sure,” I said, ignoring his frown of disappointment and confidently pushing up my glasses.
He led the way to the small back table where Creighton waited.
“Hey, Clare,” Creighton said with even more disappointment than I’d sensed from Howard.
“I ran into Howard on my way in. Hope you don’t mind if I join you two. Seth and Jodie are on their way, but I don’t want to get in your way, so let me know—”
“No, stay, of course,” Creighton said. “I’m surprised Jodie’s going out on a work night, but the more the merrier. What would you like?” He signaled a waitress over.
“Whatever you’re having.” I eyed his glass, still filled with some sort of dark beer.
“Really?” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s a new twist. Clare drinking beer. Howard?”
Orders were placed and we fell into an uncomfortable silence. Well, uncomfortable for me and Howard; Creighton appeared somewhat amused, which irritated me. I wasn’t sure why and I didn’t like being the subject of his amusement.
“So,” I said. “Were you guys just meeting tonight to catch up, talk about old times?”
“Creighton and I weren’t friends in high school,” Howard said.
“That’s true,” Creighton said as he took a sip of his beer.
I nodded, trying to hide the fact that I suddenly realized that Creighton had probably asked to meet Howard at the bar because he was investigating a murder and he was playing the same sort of game with Howard as he had done with Sarah. I’d gotten caught up in Jodie’s escapades and suspicions.
“So, why, then?” I asked.
“I asked Howard to meet me here for a few reasons. Though we didn’t know each other in high school, I wanted to get his take on why he and I would have been invited to the same meetings.”
“I wish I knew,” Howard said.
“No idea, then?” Creighton said. “Did we ever hang out back then? Did we ever do anything together?”
“Not that I can remember. You’re older, Creighton, not part of my crowd.” Howard laughed. “I remember we were kind of scared of you back then.”
“Why?”
“Not only were you older and not part of our crowd, but your dad was a cop and your mom worked for the fire department. You’ve always been a big guy and, well, you were intimidating.”
I noticed that I nodded involuntarily. Creighton looked at me over his beer.
“It’s interesting that you’re here, Clare,” Creighton said.
“Why?”
“As I was thinking back—and it hasn’t been all that easy, mind you—I had a memory. I wasn’t going to bother you with that memory, but since you’re here and all.”
I nodded again, this time on purpose.
“Do you remember that dance we went to back when you were a senior and I’d been out of high school for a couple years?”
“We went to a couple of them.”
“Right, but if you think back hard enough you might remember one that stands out from the others.”
Creighton and I had gone to many things together as a couple. We’d started dating when I was a sophomore and he was a senior, and our high school was big on dances and socials and had exercised the control of having those events on campus, under the watchful (or attempted watchful) eye of parent and teacher chaperones.
“Oh! Are you talking about the one where your tires got slashed?” I said.
“That’s the one.”
It had been one of the smaller, more casual events, something Halloween-themed even though we were all too cool to wear costumes. I’d made the poor decision of volunteering to be on the decorating committee and I had to stay late and help clean up. Creighton had stayed and helped too. We were some of the last few people to leave the gymnasium, and had come upon Creighton’s car with two of the four tires slashed.
“That was terrible,” I said.
“It was,” Creighton said. “Do you remember what happened after we noticed the tires?”
Again, I had to work my memory gears. “Yes! We heard voices from around the corner of the building and you ran after them.”
“That’s right. I never told you what I saw, though, because you were too upset by the words that had been written the car window. Remember? Someone had written ‘she’s too good for you’ in bright red lipstick.”
“I do remember that. We just thought it was some kids being stupid, taking advantage of your car being one of the last in the parking lot.”
Bizarrely, the loud bar noises faded to the background and for a brief instant, I was back in that parking lot, laughing at something Creighton had said about the goofy decorations inside. I’d been a part of the goofiness, and I’d told him that they probably should have checked my artistic abilities before they let me be on the committee. But when we saw the tires and the lipsticked words, the mood changed. I got angry and scared, but Creighton just got angry. When we heard the voices, he took off after whoever was attached to them.
He’d come back a few minutes later and claimed not to have seen anyone. I did r
emember being upset by the words. They made me feel like I was being watched, and I didn’t like that feeling at all.
“Right, but I did see something when I took off after the voices. I just didn’t see enough to make me know for sure who I’d seen. I had some idea, though,” Creighton said.
“Who?”
“Someone in a very preppy outfit, and that someone also had bright red hair.”
We both looked at Howard.
He gave it a second before he laughed. “Well, you didn’t see me, Creighton, I promise. Everyone knew your car and no one in their right mind would have slashed your tires. No, it wasn’t me.”
“Actually, I saw three people. The redheaded guy, another guy, and another girl who looked a lot like Sarah from the back.”
Howard looked neither guilty nor impressed. “It wasn’t us, Creighton. I think you might be grasping at vapory memories.”
“Possibly,” Creighton said as he set down his glass of beer.
I wondered the same thing. I also thought it was possible that Creighton had just made up the part about the details of the people he’d seen, just to see what Howard would do.
“However,” Creighton said, “you had a thing for Clare, didn’t you?”
If I wasn’t sure about Howard telling the truth about not slashing the tires, I was sure now. Because he had zero skill for lying.
“No!” he said. That one word, void of anything resembling truth.
I didn’t know what to say, but I wished I’d never joined Jodie in the car with the blacked-out windows.
“All right, okay, yes, but that was a long time ago. Besides, Clare, you knew,” Howard said.
I didn’t, but it seemed ridiculous to say that.
“Creighton, this was all a long time ago,” I said.
“I know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that night, that event, had something to do with Lloyd’s murder.”
“How?” Howard said.
“I’m not sure.”
“Look, Creighton, I didn’t kill Lloyd. And, Clare, while I might have had a tiny crush on you in high school, none of any of that time has anything to do with my present-day life.”
“I get that,” I said.
Comic Sans Murder Page 17