2 Murder in the Winter

by Steve Demaree

  22

  I placed the pictures around the table, facing out. Lou and I didn’t know what we were looking for. We didn’t even know if there was anything to find. We just knew that we had to make use of every possible clue available. Within five minutes we spotted something.

  “What do you make of that, Lou?”

  “It looks like somebody dropped by the place, then left. I wonder who it could be.”

  One of the pictures showed tracks made by vehicle that entered the parking area behind Oppenheimer Arms sometime between when the snow stopped falling on Thursday night and when Profitt’s sister took the pictures on Friday morning. But who?

  “Let’s take inventory, Lou. There’s Mrs. Crouch’s car in the first slot, and Rothschild, the crippled guy’s car in the next space. See, both are covered with snow. Rothschild’s is probably still covered with snow. At least it was when we saw it. Then there’s nothing in the next spot, where Mulroney, the quick change artist’s truck is supposed to be. Then, the next spot is where someone came and left. It’s the spot reserved for Thornton, one of the dead guys. Then, another snow-covered spot where Simon’s car should’ve been. Then Profitt’s car, still with snow on it. That’s as far as the pictures go.”

  “Except that, Cy, you can see the side of McArthur’s SUV, so you know it’s there. The only one we don’t know about is Gravitt’s, the other dead guy. So, where does that leave us, Cy? Do you think that Mulroney came back during the night?”

  “Why would he, Lou? Remember, this was taken on Friday morning. He played the part of that old woman on Thursday and Friday. Supposedly, he didn’t leave until Friday night.”

  “Maybe he left his truck at that trailer.”

  “Yeah, but how did he get to the trailer? No footprints. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. The only thing we know for sure about these tracks is that they weren’t made by any of the cars we see in the picture. They had to have been made by some vehicle that came here, then left. But why did someone come here in the middle of the night, or sometime Friday morning? No one was poisoned on Thursday night or Friday. They were all poisoned on Wednesday. At least two of them were, and I assume the other guy was. What reason would someone have to come here, probably in the middle of the night when no one could see him?”

  “I’ve got an idea, Cy. Maybe it was to return the boots to McArthur’s apartment.”

  “You might have something there, Lou. And if so, that eliminates Rothschild, Profitt, and Mrs. Crouch. But who is our visitor? It looks like these tracks were made by someone who doesn’t live there. Could it be our plumber friend? If so, where is he now?”

  Our next few attempts to identify the tracks were lame. Because we couldn’t see Gravitt’s car in any of the pictures, we wondered if the tracks could’ve been made by his car. Then, we remembered that his car was still covered with snow on Monday. Besides, he was one of the dead guys. We were looking for a live one.

  We were getting nowhere, so we decided to prioritize our suspects. We opened a package of M&M’s, and used different color M&M’s to differentiate between different people’s likelihood of guilt. Our prime suspects merited yellow M&M’s, which stood for lily livered cowards. Longworth, Antoine, Rothschild, Mulroney, McArthur, the plumber, and the tire track maker were designated with yellow M&M’s. Estelle Longworth; Michael, the sous chef; Justin, our white-coated server; the Mitchusons; Mrs. Crouch; and Profitt and his sister got red ones. With those out of the way, we had only the deceased left to consider. We gave them green M&M’s. We didn’t arrive at our M&M’s colors haphazardly. Yellow and cowards go together, and most murderers are cowards, so that one was a no-brainer. We chose red for the lesser suspects, because Lou and I should be red-faced for considering them in the first place. Coming up with a color for the dead guys was our toughest call. Neither Lou or I had watched a body decompose, so we used our knowledge of past-its-prime meat to determine what color we used. Both Lou and I had heard stories of people’s refrigerators with gray or green-looking meat. I say “heard stories,” because nothing had remained in either of our refrigerators long enough to be past its prime. Since we were using M&M’s instead of Crayola Crayons, we opted for green instead of gray. Too bad solving the case wasn’t as easy.

  Two hours later, disgusted, and with the Pecan Sandies all gone, we ate the M&M’s and went to dinner.

  +++

  Both of us were in a mood to get messy. We entered the Blue Moon, sidled up to our stools, and mounted them. I looked at the chalk board on the side wall, and studied the specials. I wanted something special, and so did Lou.

  Thelma made her way from the other end of the counter, imitating our walk as she approached. She looked like a cowboy who’d spent an entire day on a horse. I hoped neither of us looked like that, but expected that we did.

  “So, Charlie Chan, you put anyone behind bars today?”

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, Thelma, but we picked up your mother for vagrancy again.”

  “That’s good. She called here earlier and asked if I’d report her. Her back has been stiff these last few days after spending too many nights on the same park bench.”

  “Your mother’s been sleeping outside in this weather?”

  “Yeah, she’s a tough old broad. Of course, she’s softening up a little in her old age.”

  “Just how old is she?”

  “Well, if she makes it until Saturday, she’ll be one hundred-and-two. Some of the other vagrants plan to hold a party for her. That is, if she gets out in time.”

  “We’ll see what we can do for her.”

  “You do that. I knew you were good boys. Now, what can I get you tonight?”

  Lou and I ordered baby back ribs with extra sauce, mashed potatoes floating in gravy, corn on the cob smothered in butter, and baked apples dripping with sauce. Both of us chose homemade biscuits over cornbread. We came to eat. Neither of us wanted to have to get up in the middle of the night to fix a snack. We needed to eat enough to hold us until breakfast. After we licked our platters clean, I loosened my belt a notch and ordered dessert. Lou followed my lead. I was still frustrated, but I felt better than when we went in. No longer was I tempted to ask Thelma where she was on Wednesday afternoon and in the wee hours on Friday morning. I wasn’t about to do that. I didn’t want to lose my meal ticket.

  +++

  As I walked out of the Blue Moon shivering in the winter chill, I couldn’t help but wish spring would arrive soon. There’s just something about that Sunday in early April when the time changes, and I get an extra hour of daylight. It makes me feel like I have a new lease on life. In the meantime, I have to force myself to conjure up some positive thoughts, and the best I can do is to think, that although it doesn’t seem like it, each day is a little bit longer than the day before.

  I looked over at Lou and stopped daydreaming. He doesn’t mind it when I stop to do such things as long as my doing so doesn’t make him a wee bit colder or a little warmer than he’d prefer. I scrunched down in my pocket, and yanked out my keys. I flipped them to Lou to open the car door while I bent over and picked up all the change and other things that were extracted when I tugged on my keys. I detested winter, unless I could hunker down over a nice fire, or stand in front of the window with a mug of hot chocolate and gaze upon a glistening snow cover. Winter meant that unless I wanted to get sick I had to wear a lot more clothes than I wanted. I preferred a short-sleeved shirt. I also liked wearing shorts, but wouldn’t do so outside the walls of my own house. If I could help it, my chubby legs would not be seen by anyone but God. I didn’t mind God seeing them. With all the problems in the world, I’m sure that God can use a chuckle from time to time.

  After rescuing my treasures, I looked around for something to brace against as I stood up. One waddle away was a bench. I grasped it, pulled my circumference to its full height, dusted myself off, and joined Lou in the car. My partner laughed as I walked around the front of the car. I would get even with hi
m some day. Elephants have long memories.

  +++

  We had had a long day. Too long, but then most of our days are too long when we are trying to solve a murder that doesn’t want to be solved. Still, I decided to make use of our drive time and see if Lou had a revelation.

  “So, how about it, Lou? Anything grab you?”

  “Your next-door neighbor tried to the other day, but I accused her of two-timing you.”

  “You can have her, Lou. Let’s see if there are any vacancies in your neighborhood.”

  “You’re in one of your moods, Cy. Does that mean you’ve solved the case or given up on it?”

  “Neither. Now back to my question. Anything grab you?”

  “I’ve been mulling it over. Somewhere, somehow, I believe some of those tracks fit in somewhere. But where? And which tracks? Are we talking about the footprints at your house? Or those tire tracks behind the apartment building? The ones leading to that trailer? The footprints leading to the edge of the cliff? Or the lack of tracks when we first arrived at the inn?”

  “I wish I knew, Lou. We seem to have too many suspects, but all of them have an alibi. Where do we go from here?”

  I had no idea where to go, except home. I dropped Lou off at his place, then hightailed it for my house. I managed to sneak inside just as my next-door neighbor was ready to rip my coat off.

  +++

  Nothing had worked up to that point. It was time to switch gears. I took the I Love Lucy DVD out of the player and put it in its sleeve. Then I whipped out Hogan’s Heroes. Hogan had snow. Hogan had underground passageways. He even had a sergeant who didn’t have a clue. I popped in the DVD and hoped Col. Hogan would solve my case for me. Three episodes later, I went to bed, just as frustrated, but thoroughly entertained.

  +++

  That night I had a monster of a nightmare. Or should I say a triple-feature of a nightmare rolled into one. The Blue Moon had closed. While I slept, my next-door neighbor had a contractor build a ten-foot high brick wall around both of our houses, and arranged for a locksmith to change all the locks to my doors. I could do nothing about either of these things, because I was frozen to a tree just above the edge of a cliff. While I contemplated how I would escape, I hung there watching as suspect after suspect made footprints in the snow, while others drove around the place making tire tracks. I was afraid to wake up, just in case all of it was true.

  23

  I woke Wednesday morning, and realized who and where I was. I wished for chains that would keep me from getting up, but lay there unshackled. I used will power instead. I lay there thinking about the case that was getting the best of me. Friday night I felt that we had a minimum number of suspects, but no way to determine which one was guilty. By Saturday night I had progressed to the place where I had lots of suspects and no way to determine which one was guilty. That wasn’t the type of progress I wanted to make. Why had I never gotten a case where the victim had been riddled with bullet holes while the culprit stood over the victim with a smoking gun in his hand? Not only do my murderers seem to like poison, but just as soon as I eliminate some of the suspects because they weren’t at the scene, I get someone who decides to experiment with a slow-acting poison, which builds my suspect list to anyone who had ever met the victim. Worse than that, God torments me by showing me all kinds of footprints and tire tracks to show that someone was somewhere, but neither he nor she could have been where they needed to be at the right time for me to solve the case quickly.

  On Sunday, I had returned home to my bed and decent food. On Monday, I had lots of leads, none of which panned out. On Tuesday, I had more places to go, and none of them led anywhere. When Wednesday dawned, nothing dawned on me. I was running out of ideas and people to pursue. The only thing I could think to do was to interview the neighbors on Linden Place, but if no one in the apartment building saw anything, why should any of the other neighbors have a bone to throw my way. Still, I had to have something to do between meals. I might as well meet some of the other neighbors. Who knows? Maybe I would be able to increase my suspect list, while I found people who were willing to give them alibis.

  +++

  I stumbled to the shower, switched the water back and forth from hot to cold until I was cognizant of where I was, then sprang from the shower a new man. Okay, so I didn’t spring. And I wasn’t a new man. And I didn’t have any more clues as to who committed these murders, but I was awake enough to read my devotional book and pray. I never prayed for God to reveal the murderer’s identity to me. How could I pray for that? What would I say? “Lord, expose this person’s sins while not revealing mine.” He had given me footprints, tire tracks, poison, and Lou’s daily clue. It was up to Lou and me to tie them to the murderer.

  +++

  Ready to start tying things up, I called Sam Schumann.

  “And the top of the morning to you, Sam.”

  “Cy, isn’t it a little early for you to start drinking?”

  “You bet it is, Sam. I never have orange juice until Lou and I arrive at the Blue Moon. I don’t want to spoil breakfast. You know it’s the most important meal of the day prior to lunch.”

  “What you’re saying, Cy, is that you don’t have a clue to go on without my help.”

  “Oh, I have clues, but no confessions.”

  “Well, I can’t help you there, Cy, but I do have some information about some of your rapscallions.”

  “Shoot, Sam.”

  “Might as well start with Arthur Rothschild. I talked to several people about him. Only one of them has seen him walk after his accident, if you want to call it walking. I talked to the doctor who has been treating him for the last several years. He says for all intents and purposes, Rothschild can’t walk. He once gave him a shot of something that took away his pain so he could walk for a short time.

  “How short of a time are we talking about, Sam?”

  “Well, Dr. Yardley tried this on Rothschild in the good doctor’s office. Rothschild was able to walk for ten to fifteen minutes before the pain returned and threw him to the floor.”

  “Ten to fifteen minutes might’ve given him enough time to get to my house, but not enough time to get home. However, if he gave himself two or three of those shots he could’ve made it here and back. Or close to it.”

  “I’m ahead of you on that. I anticipated that question and asked Yardley if Rothschild had had some of this magic potion could he have given himself consecutive shots and walked for a while. Yardley said, ‘no way.’ A second shot within twelve hours would’ve put Rothschild to sleep. A third shot would’ve been fatal.”

  “What about Rothschild’s state of mind? Did you talk to anyone about that?”

  “His doctor and several people who have known him for years. Everyone says the same thing. At first Rothschild was bitter, despondent. But things changed when Oppenheimer offered him a free ride so to speak, and then the Oppenheimers moved away, and there were no more plays to remind Rothschild about the way things once were. He seemed to adjust to his predicament. People who’ve talked to Rothschild lately told me that even after the Longworths moved to the inn they saw no change in Rothschild’s attitude. It seems that he has adjusted.”

  “Okay, Sam. What about McArthur? Did you find out anything about his whereabouts this past week?”

  “I talked to that Smithers guy you told me about. He confirmed McArthur’s story. McArthur was in the Chicago area. He auditioned for a play. And he got the part.”

  “Did you confirm the dates he was there?”

  “I did. He had a hotel room on Wednesday and Thursday night. Now I didn’t talk to anyone who knows him who can place him at the hotel, but some man using the name Tony McArthur did stay in the hotel. He arrived Wednesday evening and checked out on Friday morning. I found a picture of McArthur on the Internet, and e-mailed it to the hotel. The two people who saw the man said they couldn’t say for sure, but it looked like the same guy. Also, the flight McArthur was supposedly on didn’t arrive back in
Hilldale until late Friday afternoon.”

  “Thanks a lot, Sam. It looks like you’ve eliminated two of my best suspects. Okay, what about the others?”

  “As far as those at the apartment house are concerned, it looks like Martin Mulroney is your best bet. That isn’t saying a lot, but a couple of people told me that he usually does whatever he can to get a part. Still, I couldn’t get anything on him that he’d ever done anything we’d want him for.”

  “And the others?”

  “It looks like Lena Crouch pulled some strings to get that apartment manager’s job, or someone pulled some for her, but again, I can’t find anything about her that shows she broke the law. And Profitt seems to be an actor who decided to retire in this area. The only thing fishy about him is why did he retire to this area? He has no ties to Hilldale, or to any town anywhere near here. Why did he decide to come here all of a sudden? You would think he’d go live somewhere close to his sister. Old people normally like warmer climates.”

  “Anything new about Longworth or Antoine?”

  “Only that both of them were in town for a while on Wednesday, but the only places I could tie either of them to were that Longworth went to the bank and Antoine went shopping for groceries. Still, both of them were in town long enough to do much more than banking and grocery shopping.”

  “Well, at least that’s something. Now, if we can just find a couple of people that can place either of them at the apartment building.”

  “Holding a bottle of poison.”

  “That would simplify things. By the way, did you find a next of kin for any of the dearly departed?”

  “Not yet, and I’m not sure that I will. While Longworth will benefit in a big way due to Thornton’s death, I can’t find a beneficiary for either of the other two. If they don’t have any money, their burial may be on the county.”

  “It could be that Oppenheimer left something for that, too. I’ll check into it.”