Stitched Together

by Carol Dean Jones

  “I’ll tell you the honest truth, Larry. Charles doesn’t know I’m here, and he forbid me to get involved. But I don’t think he stands a chance of being cleared unless someone finds the person who killed Coleman. His lawyer stressed the importance of Charles staying away from the witnesses. I should probably stay away from them, too, but maybe you could ask around?”

  “Sure. I don’t know what I can find out, but at least I’ll see what the guys have been saying. I want them to be clear on what was said before they’re asked to testify.”

  “Do you have any idea who would want to kill Coleman?”

  “Well … let me see now.” Larry looked up as if he were doing a mental calculation. “Yeah, I would say that would be probably everyone he ever met!”

  “He’s that bad?”

  “He was unpredictable and full of anger. And it came out when you least expected it. When you put him with Braxton, who’s volatile himself, we were walking on eggshells around here.”

  “Hmm. I wonder about Braxton. Did they get along?”

  Larry dropped his eyes and fiddled with his napkin.

  “You have something you want to say, don’t you? Go ahead, Larry. Please. We’ve got to get my husband out of this mess.”

  Larry was hesitant but decided to go ahead and tell her about the day he and Donald left the jobsite to avoid witnessing a blowup between Braxton and Coleman.

  Still fiddling with the napkin that was now folded into what looked like a sailboat or a chef’s hat, Larry took a deep breath and began talking. “Well, a few weeks before the murder, Braxton was shouting at Max … something about him mouthing off to the customer—Charlie, I guess. It was right after Charlie went to the inspector. I don’t know what went on since Donald and I grabbed our stuff and skedaddled. I only know Braxton was fuming.”

  “I’m hesitant to talk with Braxton myself, and I don’t think you should. You could lose your job.”

  “You bet I could—and would—if I started asking Braxton questions.”

  “I might talk to the inspector. Do you know his name? I can’t ask Charles.”

  “Rawlins, I think. He’s in the county offices over on Main Street. Building inspector. But I gotta tell you, he’s real tight with Braxton. Real tight.”

  “Charles said he thought the inspector might be in B&H’s pocket.”

  “Smart guy, your Charlie.”

  Larry went back to the buffet for a couple of desserts, and Sarah got them both coffee. “This has been nice, ma’am. I don’t cook much, so most of my meals are sandwiches. This was real nice!”

  Sarah gave him her cell phone number. “If it’s not on, just leave a message. Charles doesn’t bother with my phone, and I don’t want him to know I’m looking into this.”

  “Well don’t get me in trouble with him. He’s been a good friend to me.”

  “We’re being good friends to him, Larry. If we can get him cleared, he sure can’t be upset with us.”

  “Good point.”

  When she got home, Sarah stopped at Sophie’s house and told her about her conversation with Larry. “I don’t want anything laying around the house for Charles to see. Could I leave my notepad over here? I’m starting to collect some names and a few facts.”

  “I have a better idea. I’ll put all this on 3 × 5 cards like that detective gal out in Santa Teresa does. That way we can sort them and rearrange them until the answer pops out! At least, that’s the way it works for her.” Sophie loved her mysteries, particularly the lighter ones featuring female detectives with spunk. Sarah suspected Sophie pictured herself in those novels.

  “Great idea, Sophie! I’ll let you know when I hear back from Larry. In the meantime, do you want to go with me when I go see the building inspector?”

  “Do I look like I would miss an opportunity like that?”

  When Sarah got home, Charles had turned off the television and was in the backyard with Barney, sitting on the bench looking at the pile of wood he had purchased for the doghouse.

  “Just what I needed,” he said with a weak smile as she came out of the door carrying two glasses of zinfandel and a basket of chips.

  “Would you like to go out for pizza tonight?” she asked.

  He nodded his response as he tapped her glass with his.

  “To making it through this,” he toasted.

  Chapter 24

  “Larry, I’m glad you called. I wanted to ask you something, but what do you have for me?”

  “I wanted to let you know that I talked to the guys. It looks like there were only two of them talking to the cops. They both admitted to me that all the threats they heard were made by Max, and they were made after Charlie drove away. At one point, Max said, “If that guy shows his face around here again, he’s a dead man.” It was all Max, like I said. The only threat anyone heard Charlie make was when he threatened to call the police.”

  “Thank goodness. This should help.”

  “Yep,” he continued, “and one of the guys said he’d clear it up with the prosecutor’s office. The other guy is afraid to go near the station. I think he’s wanted somewhere. It wouldn’t surprise me if he disappears before the trial. And when they call me on the stand, I can clear it up, too. That blows a hole in their case, at least.”

  “I’ll let our lawyer know. He’ll be talking to the guys, too. Now I’d like to talk to Donald sometime. When does he work?”

  “Donald quit a couple of weeks ago. He’s going to school full time now.”

  “Do you know where he lives?” Sarah asked.

  Larry thought for a moment but then remembered. “I drove him home one night. I’m pretty sure I can find it. Do you want me to take you over there? He might be in class, but I think he has roommates.”

  “Would Saturday be okay? I know you don’t work that day, but …”

  “Actually, Saturday would work for me. I’m off but I’ll be coming over here to meet the plumber around 9:00. I should be free by 11:00 or so.”

  “I’ll follow you in my car so you can go on home,” Sarah suggested.

  “Great. Won’t Charles wonder what you’re doing?”

  “I’ll tell him I’m shopping. I hate having to lie to him, but I keep telling myself it’s for his own good. I’ll be here at 11:00 unless I hear from you.”

  When she got home, Sarah grabbed Barney’s leash and crossed the street to Sophie’s door. “Do you want to go shopping with me on Saturday?”

  “Shopping? I guess. What are we shopping for?”

  “A killer,” Sarah responded, causing Sophie’s eyes to fly open like two saucers. “Actually, we’re going to see if we can find Donald, Larry’s assistant. I want to ask him some questions.”

  “Donald?”

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot to tell you about Donald. Larry’s that friend of Charles’ who’s working on the house. I told you about having lunch with him the other day.”

  “Yes, but who’s Donald?”

  “He’s Larry’s young assistant. A college student. I’m hoping Donald might have seen or heard something that would help clear Charles.”

  “Sounds like fun. Does Charles know we’re going to be detecting?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Ah … then this is a phony shopping trip you’re inviting me on.”

  “We’ll do a little shopping; I don’t like to be totally untruthful with Charles.”

  “I see your point. Well, whatever you’re planning, count me in.”

  * * * * *

  “Knock louder,” Sophie suggested. “Young people sleep late.”

  “It’s noon. Surely they’re up by now.”

  At that moment, they heard the dead bolt turn and the security chain being removed. A young girl, probably in her late teens, opened the door a few inches and looked out but quickly covered her eyes when the sun hit her face. Her hair was mussed, and she appeared to be wearing an old rumpled tee-shirt and underpants. Her feet were bare.

  “Yes?” she said, sounding confus
ed as to who was at her door and possibly what planet she was on.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” Sarah said politely. “We’re looking for Donald Wasserman. Is he home?”

  “I don’t know. Hang on.” She left the door ajar and walked away. They heard her yelling for Donald, and after a while she returned to the door. “I guess not. Who are you?”

  “We just want to speak with him about his job in Cunningham Village. I wanted to …”

  “Oh, he doesn’t work there anymore,” the disheveled girl interrupted.

  “I realize that, but I still need to talk to him. Do you know when he’ll be home?”

  Before the girl could answer, a deep voice bellowed from somewhere upstairs. “Who is it, Amy?”

  “It’s a couple of old … it’s a couple of ladies who want to talk to you about Cunningham Village.”

  “What about it?” he called from the upstairs banister.

  Sarah called up to him. “Please, just a few minutes.”

  “Hang on,” he replied.

  The girl closed the door, and Sarah looked at Sophie. “I suppose that means he’s coming down, and we are to wait here, right?”

  “I would think so,” Sophie responded. “Why don’t we sit down on the swing? My hip is killing me.”

  “Not your knee?”

  “Yes, my knee, too. But now my hip has joined in.” She hobbled over to the swing and leaned her cane against the banister.

  “What did the doctor say about your hip?”

  “I’m walking all catawampus because of the knee, and now it’s throwing my hip off-kilter.”

  “And what does he say to do about that?” Sarah asked, knowing full well that Dr. Waller had recommended a knee replacement.

  “He’s still pushing for me to become a bionic old lady.”

  Twenty minutes later, when they were beginning to think they’d been forgotten, the front door opened and a clean-cut young man, obviously freshly showered, stepped out. He carried a large mug of coffee and wore a practiced smile intended to charm. “Sorry about that,” he said as if he had just stepped away from a board meeting. “What can I do for you folks?”

  “You’re Donald, right?”

  “Yes. Donald P. Wasserman,” he announced proudly. “And who wants to know?”

  Sarah introduced herself and Sophie. When she began talking about Max Coleman’s death, he lifted his head in a knowing gesture. “Ah, Parker. You’re that guy’s wife.”

  “Yes. I’m the wife of Charles Parker, and as you know, my husband has been arrested for the murder of Max Coleman. I’m trying to find out what really happened to Mr. Coleman.”

  “Who cares? The guy was a jerk.”

  “Well, I care because my husband didn’t kill him. And unless someone finds out who did, my husband will go to jail, probably for the rest of his life.” Sarah’s voice cracked ever so slightly on the last few words. Sophie knew she was trying to be brave and quickly jumped in to help her.

  “Won’t you sit down here with us and at least listen for a moment?”

  Donald looked at the two women hesitantly and then shrugged; he pulled a metal chair closer to the swing and sat down. “Okay, shoot. What do you want to know?”

  “The best way to help Charles is to find out who killed Max. Do you have any idea who that might be?”

  “Wow! You two really cut to the chase.” He took the last gulp of his coffee and set the mug on the porch railing. “If I were going to make a wild guess, I’d say it was the husband of one of the married chicks he ran around with.”

  “He ran around with married women?”

  “You bet he did, and some real dolls they were. There was this one …” he gestured, indicating a buxom figure, but then he dropped his hands and said contritely, “Sorry. Anyway, this one was a gorgeous blond chick but ditzy. Really ditzy.”

  “You knew her?”

  “The guys all hang out over at Barney’s Bar & Grill—you know, over on …”

  “I know the place,” Sarah interjected. She had actually named her dog for that establishment because he had been picked up by the animal shelter while he was raiding Barney’s dumpster.

  “Do you know the woman’s name?”

  “Nah. But the bartender might. He seemed to know her. In fact, now that I think about it, he seemed to know the little redhead Max hung out with, too. Talk to him.”

  “Any other ideas?”

  “Larry and I heard Braxton swearing at him one afternoon when most of the other guys were gone. It sounded like it was coming to blows, but old Larry and I hightailed it out of there.”

  “Did you hear what they were arguing about?”

  “Something about the inspector; that’s all I heard before we left.”

  “Can you think of anyone else?”

  “The guy fought with everybody. He’d have cursing matches with his crew, truckers bringing in supplies, and even the inspector when he’d drop by just doing his job.”

  On their way home, Sarah and Sophie speculated about the possibility that Max had been killed by one of the husbands of his various girlfriends.

  “A crime of passion. A husband in a jealous rage. It works for me,” Sophie suggested.

  “We’ll plan a trip to Barney’s and talk with the bartender.”

  Chapter 25

  “We’ve had a bit of good news today,” Charles said as Sarah came in from having coffee with Sophie.

  “We need good news,” she responded. “What is it?”

  “Graham called. He and his investigator have been nosing around, and they’ve learned that the witnesses that said I threatened Max have recanted.”

  “Recanted?” Sarah repeated innocently, hoping his attorney hadn’t revealed the true source of his information. She and Sophie had taken everything they had to him the previous day and swore him to secrecy.

  “They said Max had threatened me if I ever came back on the jobsite, and that part is true. And they said that all the other things that were said were said after I left. One guy remembers Max saying, ‘If Parker comes back, he’s a dead man.’ No one could remember any threat I had made other than that I would contact the authorities.”

  “This should really help you, Charles. Will they drop the charges?”

  “Oh no. They still have the fingerprints, and they might not believe this new information. They’ll have to investigate whether these guys are recanting under some sort of pressure.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Unlikely.”

  “I see,” she said naively, picking up her handwork project.

  * * * * *

  “I’m sorry, Det. Parker. Really sorry. I’m acting under orders; you know how that is,” the officer said contritely, clearly embarrassed. He handed the search warrant to Charles and motioned for the other officers to enter the house. “What are you looking for?” Charles demanded.

  “Please, sir. Just sit down and let us do our job.”

  Charles grabbed the phone and went into the backyard. He called Sarah on her cell phone. “You thought of something else you want from the store?” she answered, sounding relaxed and happy. He hated to ruin her mood.

  “Sarah, the police are searching the house. I just called Graham, and he’s on his way. I just wanted you to know before you drive up and see the squad cars.” As he was hanging up, two officers came out the back door and headed for the alley, which ran between the rows of houses. “Is the trash can out there?” one asked.

  “Yes,” Charles responded, trying to hold his temper back. How many times I’ve done this very thing over the years, he thought. He was glad Sarah wasn’t home to see their possessions being violated. He’d try to get things picked up before she returned.

  The police in the alley walked back past him carrying a large evidence bag. Charles couldn’t tell what was in it. “We picked the trash up and put it back in the can,” the younger officer called to him.

  “Thanks,” Charles responded without looking up.

  No
t long after the officer’s left, he heard two cars pulls up. “What now?” he said aloud as anger welled up in his chest. But when he went to the window, he saw Sarah and Graham getting out of their cars and heading toward the house.

  “What’s going on, Graham?” he demanded as his lawyer entered, following behind Sarah, who looked dazed.

  “They’re getting uncomfortable with the circumstantial evidence. They had a warrant to search for something more solid.”

  “That’s a fishing expedition, Graham. You know they can’t do that.”

  “Well they got around it somehow. I have a call in to the detective and the district attorney’s office. We should hear something soon.”

  Sarah looked around the house and was surprised to see everything in order. “I thought they trashed the house when they did these searches. At least they do on television.”

  “I think they were careful out of respect,” Charles responded, although he had picked up the few things they had left scattered around.

  They sat at the kitchen table for a half hour having coffee while they speculated on what had been taken from the trash can. “Did they take anything else?”

  “I was out back. I don’t know what else they might have taken, but both computers are gone.”

  Charles had looked angry when she first came in but was looking despondent now. He didn’t have much to say. His face had become gray and his eyes distant.

  Over the next few days, his mood didn’t improve. Graham had told them the police had taken a blood-soaked towel and it was being analyzed. “We didn’t throw away any blood-soaked towels,” Sarah had objected, but Graham said they would just have to wait.

  Charles was waiting for that other shoe to drop, and it was taking its toll on him. He ate very little and spent most of his time sitting in his chair with the television on but muted. Sarah was unable to engage him in conversation. She tried to reassure him but without success.

  “He’s depressed, Sarah,” Sophie had said. “Get him to the doctor for medication.”

  “I suggested that, but he just shook his head. The waiting is just too hard on him.”