I sat and watched as a rabbit scampered across the snow. Stupid rabbit should’ve been hibernating. I would’ve been, if I hadn’t had work to do. I tried to push the thought of work from my mind, so I could enjoy the view. If the food improved, I could get used to this place. I wouldn’t mind a dip in the pool, as long as there wasn’t anyone else around to check out my circumference. It would be okay if Lou were there. His circumference resembles mine. Few others I know of are so blessed. Lou moved closer, so he could enjoy the view, but not close enough to touch. We weren’t that kind of couple.
“Remember, Cy, when we used to make snowballs and hide until one of the girls came by.”
“Yeah, those were the days, Lou.”
“Remember that McElfresh girl?”
“Sadie? Yeah, she was my kind of girl. Remember the time she sneaked around the house and let us have it?”
“Boy, do I. I turned around just in time to get a snowball right in the kisser. Wonder whatever happened to her? You know, she’s the only girl we ever let set foot in our tree house.”
Our trip down Memory Lane was interrupted by a phone call.
“There’s a call for you, Lieutenant. A Mr. Harris. Says it’s urgent.”
“I’ll take it in my room.”
I grabbed hold of the railing and lumbered up the steps, eager to hear what news Frank had for us. Had he finished the autopsies? I unlocked the door, Lou right behind me. I dashed over to the phone and picked it up.
“I’ve got it!” I hollered into the phone, in case Longworth was still on the line.
“I hope I don’t catch it from you,” Frank replied.
“Oh, it’s only you. I thought it was somebody.”
“That’s okay, Cy. If you don’t want to know the results of the autopsies that’s okay with me. Here I come in and slave on my day off, but what do you care? I could’ve stayed home with my family and left these two in cold storage until Monday.”
I’d let Frank go on long enough.
“Okay, Frank. I still love you. You’re still my favorite medical examiner. Well, except for that cute little number over in Ridgeville.”
“I’ll tell Loraine that you said that.”
“That she’s cuter than you are. You betcha! I’m sure of that any day of the week.”
“Should I go on before I get an inferiority complex?”
“Out with it, Frank.”
“Well, I’ve finished the autopsies, but I haven’t been able to identify the bodies yet.”
“Can you have somebody run some pictures of them out to the inn? I’ve got a feeling there are a couple of people here who might be able to identify them.”
“Is tomorrow morning okay?”
“Can you make it early?”
“When was the last time you ever did early, Cy?”
“Well, if I can wrap things up here, Lou and I might be able to make it to church in the morning.”
“Well, what I’m about to tell you might let you do just that. Cy, do you know when these two guys checked into the inn?”
“One of them checked in Thursday morning, the other Thursday afternoon.”
“Well, first let me tell you that both men died of poisoning. I won’t burden you with what kind. I’ll just tell you what you need to know. Neither man was poisoned at the inn. If my findings are right, and I’d bet on them, I’d say both men ingested the poison on Wednesday, sometime between noon and midnight.”
“Wednesday?”
“Wednesday. P.M. As in before they went to the inn. Wednesday. As in before the snowstorm, whatever that’s worth. That doesn’t mean that somebody at the inn didn’t poison them. It just means that they didn’t poison them at the inn.”
“It means something else, too, Frank.”
“What’s that, Cy?”
“It means our puny suspect list has expanded. Maybe a whole lot.”
13
I cornered Lou on the way down the stairs and asked him our message for the day. It was “I’d rather be in Philadelphia.” I was confused. No one in his right mind would rather be in Philadelphia. Could it be that something happened in Philadelphia that might have some bearing on the outcome of our case? I didn’t think so. Is it possible that someone connected with this case comes from Philadelphia? We’d reached the bottom of the steps without any light going on inside my head, but then seldom do Lou’s clues make any sense at the time he shares them with me. I put it aside for the time being and prayed for a delicious breakfast. My prayers were answered.
I’d just finished the second helping and had gathered enough strength to push myself from the table when the front door opened and an officer arrived with pictures of the deceased. I huddled with Lou in the corner, and slid the photos from the large envelope. I held the two pictures side-by-side. I honestly couldn’t tell which gentleman played which part. Neither looked at all like the two people I’d encountered. I could tell Lou was baffled, as well.
+++
I collared Longworth, asked him for a moment of his time. Still suspicious of any move I made, but feeling better since I hadn’t summoned him to the conference room, he stepped over to where we could have some privacy.
“Mr. Longworth, I wonder if you can identify the gentlemen in these two photos.”
I placed the photos side by side, just as I had when Lou and I had looked at them.
“This gentleman,” Longworth said, pointing at the picture on the left, “is Carter Thornton. The other one is Matthew Simon. Both have performed in my plays on many occasions. I assume these are the two men who died at the inn.”
“And what gave you that idea?”
“Maybe because they are both lying on a slab with their eyes closed.”
“Do you know anyone who might have had anything against either of these men?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Not even a jealous actor somewhere along the way?”
“Lieutenant, I am not going to insult your intelligence by intimating that one actor has never been jealous of another, or that one actor has never murdered another actor. But I do not know of anyone who might have had anything against either of these fine gentlemen. Carter was a consummate actor. As fine of an actor as I have directed. I worked with Matthew Simon on many occasions, as well. I would not have continued to have worked with him if I was not pleased with his work. This is definitely a setback to the local theater industry. Both men will be extremely hard to replace.”
I thanked Longworth and told him that our work at the inn was finished for the time being. He smiled when I told him our work was finished, but his smiled faded when I added “for the time being.” I asked him for one favor.
“Mr. Longworth, I am sure Miss Humphert has enjoyed her stay at the inn and is reluctant to leave before morning. Would you please serve her lunch in her room, but offer her the pleasure of joining you at your table this evening. It would mean so much to all of us if you would grant us this final wish.”
I could tell that Longworth had no idea why I asked for this, but I assumed he was willing to do anything if he could get the police away from the inn.
+++
Lou and I packed and allowed Manfred to carry our luggage downstairs. He asked if he could get our car for us, but I declined. I hurried to the garage. I wanted to make one final loop of the driveway before leaving the inn behind. Even a magnificent structure like the Overlook Inn looks good in the rearview mirror. I made the three-quarters loop from the garage to the front steps of the inn. Manfred watched for me, and he opened the door for Lou when I stopped in front. We allowed Manfred to load our luggage into Lightning and tipped him generously. I looked at my watch as I drove away. If we hurried, we had just enough time to grab a couple of doughnuts before the morning service.
+++
I drove into the crowded parking lot at church, refrained from parking in a space marked “handicapped,” “visitors,” or “seniors.” Most Sunday mornings Lou and I are early enough to savor the delectable dou
ghnuts and still make it to the back pew of the church before the choice seats are taken. This time, we scarfed down two doughnuts each, hurried to the restroom to wash our fingers after licking them, and hustled into the sanctuary, only to find that the best available seats were two seats in the middle of the third row from the back. Instead, we opted for two seats on the aisle eight rows closer to the front. Our pastor, who has quite a sense of humor, noticed our dilemma. He approached us just as the music began and stuck out his hand.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I know you. Are you visiting by any chance.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and he chuckled all the way to the pulpit. I looked around and saw that several people were enjoying our predicament. I took notice of who they were and made a mental note to share their names with those in the traffic division.
As usual, the music lifted my spirit and put me in a mood to worship. The pastor spoke directly to me, as he always does, and no one rushed from the church after the service in order to beat the rush to the local restaurants or hurry home to check on the roast.
Lou and I lingered, exchanged small talk with some of the rest of the congregation, and then left the church, thankful that we didn’t have to hightail it back to the inn. We were glad to be back on our home turf.
+++
When Lou and I desire companionship from the opposite sex, we double date. I will forever be in love with Eunice and Betty McElroy with her deceased husband Hugh, but Betty and I enjoy a meal together at least once a month, and sometimes more often. We enjoy each other’s company. Betty is also there if I need a woman’s opinion, and I am there for her anytime she needs something repaired. I know enough repairmen that I can recommend a good one.
Betty and Hugh were fortunate to have been married a lot longer than Eunice and I. They had two children, now grown, who live out of state. While Betty’s children seldom come to Hilldale to visit, she visits each of them on occasion, and has opportunities to play with grandchildren, something that I can do only in my dreams.
While Betty and I are merely friends, Lou and Thelma Lou Spencer have more of a relationship. Sometimes I think the only two things that keep them from tying the knot is that both of them have lived by themselves since entering adulthood and always can do what they want as a single, and that Lou worries about my having to eat by myself if he gets married.
While Betty no longer works, Thelma Lou leaves the house each day for her job as a customer service representative for the telephone company. While many people across the country who need assistance talk to a telephone company representative in a distant state or country, those of us who live in Hilldale are fortunate enough to have someone nearby.
+++
On the drive back from the inn, Lou and I decided that we needed a day to step away from the case, in order to see it better the next day. We made plans to go out to eat, go home for a much-needed nap, then see if the girls would want to go out and eat.
+++
I dropped Lou off at his apartment, then drove to my place, ecstatic that I didn’t need to sneak past my next-door neighbor to enter my house. As I drove up the driveway I saw what was left of the footprints my visitor made on Friday morning, a time that seemed so long ago. The wind had wiped them away, but the snow hadn’t left Hilldale behind. Only the streets were clear of snow. Our yards would be covered for a few more days. I looked around and could tell that a few of my neighbors hadn’t left their homes since the snow fell. While all walks were shoveled, some cars were snowbound due to snowdrifts in the driveways.
I strolled into the house, wanting to take my phone off the hook, but knowing that my profession kept me from doing so. It didn’t matter. Only an emergency call would interrupt my Sunday afternoon nap. But before I did so, I had a phone call to make. Thelma Lou was always eager to go out with Lou, so before he got out of the car I told him I would call Betty McElroy to see if she’d want to make it a foursome for dinner. She said “yes,” so I called Lou, who confirmed dinner with Thelma Lou. We agreed to pick the girls up at 7:00.
I went to my bed, lay down, and fell quickly to sleep. Some time later, I woke up, a little disoriented at first, and then remembered the strange surroundings in which I found myself. Home. That place that I had left behind oh so long ago. I turned over and looked at the clock. Even though it was winter, it was still light enough that I could see the hands and make out the time. 4:18. Plenty of time before Lou and I had to pick up the girls.
My stomach growled right on cue. I rousted myself from the bed, staggered to the kitchen, and rummaged through the refrigerator. No coquille St. Jacques. Not even any pâté de foie gras. I would’ve let out a big “Yes!” but there wasn’t much of anything else to eat, either. I looked in the freezer, found a package of pizza rolls, and preheated the oven. Several stomach growls later, I plucked them from the oven, put them on a plate to let them cool, fixed myself something to drink, and enjoyed my snack. After I’d scraped the last of the cheese and sauce from the plate, I burped, and strolled over to the TV.
+++
As I mentioned earlier, Lou and I have hobbies. A policeman needs something to get his mind off his work. While Lou and I have approximately the same shape, we do not share the same interests outside of work, other than our newfound love for reading murder mysteries. I didn’t want to begin reading a new mystery. I would have to put it away in the morning. I couldn’t justify reading a book when there was a real murder left to solve. Besides, with both of us ensconced in semi-retirement, there would be plenty of time to read.
Lou has three hobbies. He recently traded the classic novels, he didn’t always enjoy for murder mysteries that tickled his palette. Plus, he works crossword and jigsaw puzzles. Both types of puzzles would shatter what little patience I have, but they relax Lou. He spends most of his time in one room, the living room. The first thing you see when you step inside his apartment are walls of bookshelves, each shelf full of books. The next thing you notice is a card table that is always up, always with a puzzle in progress. If Lou isn’t sitting at the card table, he is relaxing in his recliner, working on a crossword puzzle or devouring another murder mystery novel.
While Lou likes to read and work puzzles, I like to delve into my DVD collection and watch some of the best comedies of the classic TV days. No one has ever been funnier than Lucille Ball. Watching I Love Lucy can bring me out of a grumpy mood. Other favorite shows of mine are Hogan’s Heroes, The Andy Griffith Show, and The Beverly Hillbillies. I selected a DVD of the first year I Love Lucy was on the air, plucked it from its case, inserted it into the DVD player, sat back, and drifted back in time. Time passed quickly. Then next thing I knew the phone rang. I paused the DVD and walked over to the phone. It was Lou. He was on his way.
+++
Lou doesn’t like to drive. When we work, I always drive, unless an injury keeps me from driving. But when we double-date, Lou always backs his nearly-mint-condition red-and-white, 1957 Chevy from the garage, turns the radio to an oldies station, and thinks he’s hot stuff. The girls like his car, too. Not that they have anything against Lightning. What’s not to like about Lightning? But there’s just something special about a vintage automobile.
+++
We had a pleasant evening. It was nice to spend time with someone without interrogating her and wondering if she had anything to do with our murder investigation. The four of us had a wonderful dinner, but then it came time to take the girls home, because Monday would be a busy day for us. The girls understood. Being single, they’re both just glad to get out of the kitchen and mingle with other people from time to time, even if those other people are Lou and me. They don’t even mind us calling them “the girls.” Besides, they call us “the boys.”
+++
As soon as Lou returned from walking Thelma Lou to the door, our minds switched back to work mode. It was time to forget about what a relief it was to get back home and all the fun we had at dinner and focus on the case. We reflected back upon the las
t few days. Lou’s message from God. “Ford Theater and the Bates Motel.” Actors and murder. It was time to look ahead. It seemed obvious to me what we needed to do on Monday morning. Everything pointed to Oppenheimer Arms. Both of the deceased lived there. We didn’t know if they were poisoned there, but it was time to pay the place a visit, to meet its residents. Who knows? Maybe we were about to come face to face with a murderer for the first time. Or see what a murderer looks like when he wasn’t performing for the police, or executing a murder in disguise. Was our murderer someone who lives at the apartment complex? Or someone we had left behind at the inn? Only time would tell.
14
I woke up Monday morning and smiled. I don’t usually smile the first thing in the morning. If I had my way, I’d sleep until the crack of noon, take time to find out what God had for me that day, take a leisurely shower, then pick Lou up and drive to the Blue Moon for breakfast and lunch, at one seating. Okay, maybe I’d get up a little earlier in order to put a little time between breakfast and lunch. On that day, it didn’t matter. Someone was at work decreasing the town’s population, it was time to roust myself from the bed and go to work. After that, I took time for cleanliness, God and godliness, and hunger pangs. After all, just because I can’t sleep until noon doesn’t mean the people at Oppenheimer Arms don’t.
+++
Lou and I strolled into the Blue Moon. Rosie looked up as the bell jingled as we walked in. From the look on her face, I thought she was going to run around the counter and hug us. Instead, she made us feel welcome another way.
“Where have you two been? We were about to put out a missing persons report. Do you realize how much food we had left over Friday and Saturday? With the money the boss lost, he almost had to declare bankruptcy.”
Lou and I chuckled all the way to the counter. In sequence, we grasped the counter and pulled our grandiose bodies up onto the stools. It was so good to be back where we belonged that the two of us spun around on our stools while Rosie just stood and laughed at us. Because of our girth, Lou and I always sit with one stool between us. It isn’t like the Blue Moon is crowded. We can spread out and eat comfortably. And if the mood hits us to spin our stools around like a couple of five-year-olds, we can do so without bumping knees. Somehow, I don’t believe the department would file knees injured while spinning on a restaurant stool under “injured in the line of duty.”
2 Murder in the Winter Page 10