Murder by the Slice

by Livia J. Washburn

  She would find out soon enough, she supposed.

  Chapter 19

  Phyllis sat and watched through the glass door as the rain fell harder outside, spitting down from the gray sky and wetting the pavement of the parking lot. Neither she nor Sam had an umbrella or a raincoat, so it looked like they might get soaked when they left the sheriff’s department. That is, unless the rain let up before then.

  Which as it turned out was exactly what happened. After raining hard for fifteen or twenty minutes, accompanied by the occasional rumble of thunder, the storm began to taper off. Phyllis watched the drops hitting one of the puddles on the parking lot and could tell they weren’t falling as hard or as fast as they had been a few minutes earlier. Soon it was just sprinkling outside as the clouds thinned and the sky grew lighter.

  Then a shaft of sunlight burst through, lancing down brightly and making the clouds seem darker again. Phyllis wondered if she would be able to see a rainbow if she was outside. She had always liked rainbows.

  The rain stopped completely a few minutes later, and it was then that Sam emerged from the rear of the complex. As Phyllis came to her feet and moved forward to meet him, he looked out at the sun shining on the parking lot and said, “Heard it thunderin’ and was afraid we’d get poured on. Looks like it’s about to clear up, though.”

  “What did you find out?”

  Sam reached for the door. “We can talk about it in the

  truck.” His eyes held a worried look, and Phyllis had the feeling that the conversation with Gary Oakley hadn’t gone very well.

  Before Sam could open the door, Mike walked quickly up the corridor from the jail and called, “Mom, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Phyllis turned toward her son while Sam waited by the door. “What is it?” she asked.

  Mike hesitated, as if unsure whether he wanted to proceed or not, but then he squared his shoulders determinedly and said, “The fact that you came here today with Sam doesn’t mean that you’re taking more of an interest in this case than you should, does it?”

  Her chin came up a little. “Why don’t you say what you mean, Michael? Your father and I taught you to speak your mind.”

  “All right, I will. You don’t plan to investigate Mrs. Dunston’s murder, do you? Because the sheriff wouldn’t take too kindly to it if you did.”

  “There’s nothing to investigate, is there? You’ve already arrested Mr. Oakley.”

  “Like I said, he’s being held for questioning and hasn’t been charged yet. So we don’t really know—”

  As Mike spoke, Phyllis saw something in his eyes, and it prompted her to interrupt him. “You don’t think he’s guilty, do you?”

  “I don’t have any idea. There was probable cause to bring him in, I can tell you that much.”

  “But you have your doubts,” she insisted. “I can see that you do. I’m your mother, after all.”

  Mike looked even more uncomfortable now. “Everybody’s considered innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. We just gather as much evidence as we can and turn it over to the district attorney. He’s the one who decides whether or not to proceed with a case.”

  “But you form opinions, too,” Phyllis said. “You can’t help but do that. And you’re not convinced that Mr. Oakley killed Shannon.”

  Mike sighed. “Look, just talk to Sam, Mom. I’m sure he’s going to tell you everything that Oakley told him, anyway.”

  “Even if he does, I can’t turn around and come tell you what he said. That would be betraying a confidence.”

  “I’m not asking you to do that. I’m just saying talk to Sam and make up your own mind. Maybe we’ll discuss it later. But just be careful, okay? This isn’t like last time. If you start poking around in this case, you might put yourself in real danger.”

  “You mean besides annoying the sheriff?”

  “I mean somebody stuck a knife in a woman’s chest,” Mike said bluntly. “If the killer’s still out there, and he thinks somebody is threatening him, there’s no telling what he might do. But it wouldn’t be good, we can count on that.”

  Phyllis nodded. “I understand. And you don’t have to worry about me, Mike.”

  “I hope not.” He glanced past her. “Looks like it’s clearing off outside.”

  That was true. There were even more breaks in the clouds now. The sky that showed through them was a deep, beautiful blue.

  But the wind that was blowing as Phyllis and Sam left the sheriff’s department and walked across the wet pavement of the parking lot was downright cold. “There’s gonna be some chilly trick-or-treaters tonight,” Sam said as he unlocked and opened the passengerside door of the pickup. This time Phyllis didn’t refuse the courtesy.

  “That’ll be better than if it was still raining, though,” she said as she got into the truck.

  “Oh, yeah. I expect a wet Halloween costume wouldn’t be very comfortable.”

  As they drove away, Sam went on, “I suppose you want to know what Gary had to say to me. I heard Mike tell you to ask me about it.”

  “I don’t think he believes that Mr. Oakley is guilty, but for some reason he can’t come right out and say that.”

  “He can’t come right out and say it because his boss the sheriff is convinced they’ve got the right man. And with what I found out about Gary today, even I’ve got to say it doesn’t look too good for him.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “He’s got a record,” Sam said. “He’s what we used to call a jailbird.”

  Surprised, Phyllis asked, “But how could that be possible? He works at a school.”

  “Yeah, but when he filled out the job application he conveniently forgot to mention that he’d been convicted of three felonies and spent time in Huntsville. I guess nobody ever got around to checking that out before he was hired.”

  “What did he do? Why did he go to prison?”

  “Burglary,” Sam said.

  “Oh. Well, that’s not as bad as some—” Phyllis stopped short as she remembered something. “Wait a minute. There was a burglary at Loving Elementary a week or so ago.”

  Sam nodded. “Yep. And since there were no signs that somebody broke in, the burglar must’ve used a key.”

  “And Mr. Oakley has a key, since he works there.”

  “Right again. The way the sheriff has it worked out, Gary was responsible for the earlier burglary, and he was in the school office Saturday afternoon stealin’ the PTO cash box from the secretary’s desk when Mrs. Dunston came in and caught him at it.”

  “So he killed her to keep her from telling anyone?”

  “That’s what the sheriff says. I got to admit, given Gary’s record, a jury might believe it, too.”

  Phyllis sat there in silence for a moment, thinking about everything Sam had told her. Then she asked, “What does Mr. Oakley say about it?”

  “He claims he didn’t do it. Says he’s innocent and has gone straight ever since he got out of the pen.”

  “Then why was he trying to sneak away from the school Saturday afternoon before the deputies could talk to him? You don’t believe he really just wanted to get home to feed his dogs, do you?”

  “I asked him about that, flat out,” Sam said. “He admitted he was lying about the dogs, although I think he really was a little worried about them. But he said he didn’t want to talk to the deputies because he was afraid they’d run his name through the computer and find out about his criminal record. Said he was scared that if they did, he’d not only lose his job but also be considered a suspect in the murder.” Sam sighed. “Looks like he was right about that.”

  “But they didn’t arrest him until this morning,” Phyllis pointed out.

  “That’s because when the deputies talked to him Saturday they just asked him a few questions, mostly about the school and had he seen anything suspicious during the afternoon. They didn’t run his name at all. Gary said he was starting to breathe easier again, thinking maybe they wouldn’t fi
nd out about him. But then this mornin’ Mike and a couple of other deputies showed up at the school and took him into custody. I figure they must’ve put the names of everybody who was there through the computer over the weekend, and Gary’s record got his name flagged.”

  “This is just a guess,” Phyllis said, “but I’d be willing to bet that he wasn’t the only one at the school that afternoon with a criminal record. Nearly every year I had at least one student in class who had a parent either in prison or one who had been in prison.”

  “Yeah, criminals’ kids have to go to school like anybody else’s, I reckon. But given the convictions that Gary had, and the fact that the school was burglarized not long ago, and the cash box being missing on top of everything else …” Sam shook his head. “He just had too many marks against him. The sheriff had to bring him in.”

  Again Phyllis mulled over what Sam had told her. They were almost back to the house. She wanted to ask the most important question of all before they got there.

  “What about you, Sam?” she said. “Do you think he did it?”

  “The burglary or the murder?”

  “Either. Both.”

  Sam took a deep breath and blew it out as he parked the pickup at the curb in front of the house. “The fella I knew at Poolville was always quiet but friendly, always got along with everybody, worked hard, and never caused a lick of trouble. I know people say those are the ones you got to watch out for. But no, I don’t believe it. Gary Oakley’s not a killer. Then again, I wouldn’t have said he was a professional burglar, either, and for several years that’s exactly what he was. So I don’t know, Phyllis. I want to believe he’s innocent. I really do. But I just don’t know.”

  Phyllis could see how conflicted he was. Sam Fletcher was a straightforward sort of man who believed what he believed and had the strength of his convictions. It was unusual for him to be torn this way between his head and his heart.

  “We need to talk about this again,” she finally said. “There are some things you should know about—things that the sheriff isn’t aware of.”

  Sam glanced sharply over at her. With a frown, he said, “Phyllis, have you been detectin’ again? You know how Mike feels about that—”

  “Hold your horses. I just happened to see something that I haven’t told anyone about yet.”

  “Does it have any bearin’ on the case?”

  “It might. Or it might not. I’m not trying to be mysterious, truly I’m not. I just don’t know yet.”

  “So tell me about it. You know I’ll keep quiet if that’s what you want.”

  She believed him. He had helped her look into those other murders, and she trusted him to keep her confidences. And if she was going to go ahead with her plans, she would likely need his help again.

  Before she could say anything else, though, the front door of the house opened and Eve stepped out onto the porch. Phyllis thought she had seen the curtains in the living room flick aside a little as they pulled up, and she had no trouble believing that Eve had been watching and waiting for their return. Sam’s return, rather. Eve wouldn’t care that much about Phyllis’s comings and goings.

  As Eve came down the still-damp walk toward the pickup, Phyllis glanced over at Sam and said, “We’ll talk more about it later, all right?”

  He nodded. “Don’t forget. If there’s any way I can help Gary, I want to do it.”

  Phyllis wasn’t as interested in clearing Gary Oakley’s name as she was in simply finding out the truth about the murder of Shannon Dunston. But she didn’t tell Sam that. If they worked together, they might be able to accomplish both goals.

  “You two have been sitting out here for a long time,” Eve said with a hard-edged smile as Phyllis opened the pickup door. “What exactly are you doing, necking? And in the middle of the day, at that?”

  “Nope, just talkin’,” Sam said as he got out of the truck. “Back in the days when I still did a little smoochin’ now and then, I generally preferred a chilly night and a roarin’ fire in the fireplace.”

  “Why, that sounds absolutely delightful, dear,” Eve said as she took his arm and practically tugged him toward the house. “My, that’s a cold wind blowing, isn’t it? And I happen to know that there’s a big stack of firewood out back by the storage shed… .”

  Sam tossed a helpless grin over his shoulder at Phyllis, who stood there at the curb for a moment before she closed the pickup door with maybe just a little more force than was absolutely necessary.

  Chapter 20

  After lunch, Phyllis went upstairs to her bedroom, got the cordless phone from its stand on the bedside table, and sat down in an armchair next to one of the windows. As she gathered her thoughts, she looked out at the branches of a tree that grew next to the house. They waved back and forth in the wind, almost like someone waving good-bye.

  Then she took a deep breath and called Information to get the number of the Lockheed plant over in Fort Worth. She hated to call Information anymore, since the telephone company charged for that service now, but she couldn’t think of any other way to get the number she needed. It wasn’t until she was finished and had written down the number that she remembered she might have been able to look up the information on the Internet. She supposed that option just didn’t occur to her as naturally as it would to younger people.

  She punched in the numbers and listened to the phone ringing on the other end for a moment before a woman answered. Phyllis said, “I need to speak to Russ Tyler, please.” She had wondered if he might go by Russell at work, but since she had no idea, she went with what she knew.

  “What department, please?”

  Phyllis was ready for the question, having paid attention that morning while Marie was talking about her husband. “Engineering.”

  “Which engineering department?”

  Phyllis’s hand tightened on the phone. Maybe she wasn’t as prepared as she had thought she was. Then she recalled something else Marie had said and took a guess. “Structural,” she said.

  “Just a moment.”

  Phyllis tried not to heave a sigh of relief into the phone.

  More than a moment went by. It was several minutes before she heard a click and then a man’s voice said, “Department One-eighty-four.”

  Phyllis hadn’t heard Russ’s voice all that many times, but she didn’t think he was the man who had answered the phone. She said, “Russ Tyler, please.”

  “Hang on.” This time, instead of the clicking noises that told her the call was being transferred, she heard a clunk as the phone was physically set down on something. The man’s voice, more distant now, said, “Hey, Russ, phone.”

  Even more distant, Russ asked, “Who is it?”

  “I dunno, some woman.”

  Footsteps approached the phone. It was picked up, and Russ said, “Marie?”

  Phyllis said, “No, Mr. Tyler, it’s Phyllis Newsom. We met at the school carnival the other day.”

  “Oh, yeah, Mrs. Newsom, hi.” Russ sounded distracted, which came as no surprise since he was at work. But he didn’t sound the least bit wary. He went on, “Listen, if this is something about school, you should call Marie, because she handles all that stuff—”

  “It’s not about school, Mr. Tyler,” Phyllis broke in. She took a quick breath and plunged ahead before she lost her nerve. “It’s about your lunch date in Fort Worth last week with Shannon Dunston.”

  Except for the sound of a sharply drawn breath, there was silence on the other end of the connection. Finally, Russ said, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t believe I ever had lunch with Shannon Dunston, and certainly not last week.”

  “It was at an Applebee’s in southwest Fort Worth, not far from Hulen Mall,” Phyllis said. She told him the exact date, having looked it up beforehand. “I know what I saw. If either of you used a credit card to pay for lunch that day, I’m sure the authorities can subpoena those records to prove that you were there—”

  “You tol
d?” Now Russ sounded like he wanted to groan in dismay.

  “Not yet,” Phyllis admitted. “I wanted to ask you about it first.”

  “I can’t talk to you now. I’m at work.”

  “You’d better talk to me soon,” Phyllis said. “There have been developments in the case you don’t know about.” She felt bad about taking such a hard line with him, but it had to be done.

  “I’ll call you back in a few minutes. Give me your number.”

  Phyllis did so. She supposed Russ wrote it down, because he said, “I’ll get right back to you.”

  “I’ll be here,” she told him. She pushed the button on the phone to break the connection, and then sat there holding the instrument in her lap. She felt a little shaky inside. Confrontation had never bothered her all that much; you couldn’t be a teacher without learning pretty quickly how to stand your ground. But she didn’t have much experience at confronting a possible murderer.

  When the phone rang, the caller ID screen on it lit up and identified the incoming call as originating from a cellular phone. Russ had probably left Lockheed and gone out to his car to return her call. Phyllis answered, saying, “Hello?”

  “What do you want?” Russ Tyler asked in a harsh voice, without any greeting. Before Phyllis could say anything, he went on, “Or rather, how much do you want?”

  The question took Phyllis by surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  “You want me to pay you to keep you from going to the cops, right?”

  “What?” Phyllis was aghast. “You think I called you to blackmail you?”

  “Why else?”

  “To find out the truth,” she said. “I like your wife, and before I go to the police and tell them you might have been having an affair with Shannon Dunston, I wanted to find out what you had to say about it. Once the sheriff’s department knows about this, your wife will find out. You can count on that.”

  “All right, all right.” Russ heaved a sigh. “Let me think a minute… . We need to get together and talk about this.”