by Anna Drake
I pulled my car into Wendy’s driveway and stepped out. The snow was falling heavier now. The flakes were large and wet. They clung to my coat and cheeks. I scurried up the sidewalk. Wendy opened the door before I even could knock.
“I’ve been watching for you,” she explained.
“I hope you weren’t worried about being on your own.”
“Mercy no. I’m just glad to see you, that’s all.”
I hoped Wendy was growing too attached to my presence. Dad would want me to move back home sometime soon. There was another wrinkle. Of all my friends who had graduated college with me, I was the only one still living at home. Ginger teased me about it. But even without her prodding, my living arrangements had begun to bother me.
“Want to watch TV with me?” Wendy asked brightly.
“Sure.”
I’d thought when I moved in with Wendy I might have taken a step away from the family nest. I thought now, though, maybe all I’d done was swap one parent for another. But at least I’d gained enough confidence in the kitchen that I could see life on my own as a possibility now. That hadn’t been true when I’d arrived on Wendy’s doorstep.
~~~
The next morning was one of the most difficult ones of my young life. It had dawned on me overnight that I couldn’t hide what I knew about the Scroggins’ blackmailing operation. I felt, both by my duty as a journalist and as a responsible member of society, that I had to bring Gossford up to speed with my discoveries.
I dawdled about upstairs in my bedroom until I heard Dad leave for work. Then, I rushed down the stairs, grabbed my coat, and headed for the Cloverton Police Department.
Their offices are housed in a one-story building near the downtown square. Yellow brick. Brown roof. The building was restrained and unpretentious. I entered through the front door and was greeted by Sergeant Olin Fitzwater on the desk. “Good morning, Melanie.”
All of the local cops knew me, if not as a function of living in a small town, then by the fact that I frequently dogged their steps for news.
“What brings you into our fair camp today?”
“I need to see Gossford.”
“What about?”
“Um… I’d rather wait to tell him.”
Fitzwater sent me a quizzical glance. “I’ll let him know.” He reached down, grabbed the phone, and rang the chief. His gaze caught and held mine while he relayed my message to his boss. He muttered a quick comment or two and then rang off.
“Go on,” he said. “But make it short. He’s got a meeting with the County Board Chairman in about twenty minutes.
“Thanks.” I dashed down the hall toward Gossford’s office. Maybe his upcoming meeting was a blessing. This way if Gosford were really angry, he’d have less time to visit his displeasure on me.
“Melanie, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
I sighed. “I hope you’ll feel that way once I deliver my message.” I sank down into a chair before his desk, my knees feeling a little weak in light of the news I was about to deliver.
“So?” he said, his eyes betraying a good bit of concern.
I licked my lips before answering. “It’s like this. I’ve happened to stumble upon some information that I think you should know.”
“About what?”
“About the murders.”
He shook his head. “Melanie, what have you been up to? if you’ve been sticking your nose into a murder investigation, I could charge you with interfering with police business.”
I dragged in a lungful of air. “Please, just hear me out.”
He glanced at his watch. “You’d better speed it up, then.”
“I have reason to believe Scroggins was a blackmailer.”
“And where did you learn this?”
“I’ve spoken with one of the victims.”
“And that is?”
“Roger Bradley.”
“And how did you think to talk to Bradley about blackmail?”
“It was something Porter said when I interviewed him after Scroggins’ died.”
Oh man if these lies got any bigger, I was gonna die of shame. But I couldn’t tell Gossford about the little black book. He’d ask me where I got it.
I made myself a mental note to immediately return Scroggins’ diary to where I found it — even though that meant I’d have to go back into that blasted apartment in broad daylight. But it couldn’t be helped. Technically, I’d been messing with police evidence. If Gossford caught wind to that, I could end up in jail.
“Anything else you’d like to tell me?” he asked.
“Not at the moment, no.”
“Okay, then. I thank you for the information, but if I find you’ve been messing with my case, I’m not going to be best pleased.”
“Right. Absolutely. Sir.”
~~~
Wendy looked startled to find me at her doorway at an hour when I’d have normally been at work. “My dear, what’s going on?”
“I need the key to Barnaby’s apartment.”
Wendy blinked. “But we’re not supposed to go there.”
“I know, but we did, and I’ve removed evidence in a murder investigation, and I’ve got to get it back before Gossford catches me with the thing.”
“You mean the book?”
“Yes.”
“Heavens. Okay. Wait here.”
“Or,” I said, “how about I run upstairs and get the thing while you fetch the door key?”
She blinked. “Yes, that would work.”
And Wendy was standing dutifully at the bottom of the stairs when I returned from the mad dash to my bedroom. “Should I go with you?” she asked, passing me the key.
“No, you stay here. You know nothing, got that?”
“You bet. Mum’s the word.”
I gave her a hug, and ran to the back door, and bolted through it. And I raced through the backyard, past the evergreen, and the dried flower stalks, and up the stairs, and into Barnaby’s apartment, which appeared much friendlier in the daylight.
My feet didn’t come to a full, complete stop until I stood in front the dresser, pulled open the bottom drawer, and tucked the offending book back inside the comforter’s folds.
Now, that’s the way I spell relief.
~~~~
“Jeremy,” I yelled from my car. My day was over at the paper, and I’d been driving around hoping to find this child for nearly an hour now. And attempts to reach him by phone had failed more times than I could count
“Can I talk to you a minute?” I called out.
Reluctantly, the boy tore himself away from the girl he’d apparently been trying to impress. He mosied over to my car, his whole attitude screaming — macho me.“
Get in,” I said, when he reached the door. To the end of my days, I’ll never know why he did as he was told.
I’d like to say I trusted the boy, but I didn’t. Not completely. So instead of talking with him in some remote and isolated spot, I offered to take him to Howies where I’d buy him a milkshake. Again, Jeremy surprised me and went along with my suggestion.
Howie’s was reasonably empty when we reached it. We grabbed our drinks and I led us to a booth at the far end of the restaurant. I thought it would be a quiet spot where we could talk with little chance of being overheard.
“I appreciate the milkshake,” Jeremy said, sliding onto the bench. “But I can’t think of any reason for you to want to interview me.”
“Fine. Then just sit back until I ask my questions, okay?”
He shifted on the bench, his restless hands working a nervous pattern on the table.
“I was hoping you would talk to me about blackmail.” I sat and watched with satisfaction as the color drained from Jeremy’s face. The kid knew something. That much was obvious. The only question now was how much of what he knew he’d be willing to share with me.
“So how about it, Jeremy. What was your role in Scroggins blackmailing operation?”
“Blackmail? You’re n
uts. Scroggins?”
“Don’t lie to me Jeremy. I’ve seen his little black book. It lists names and dollar amounts. What I want you to tell me is how he scoped out his victims. You were involved with that weren’t you?”
“Me? Whoa. You’re crazy, man.” He pushed his milkshake to the side. “I didn’t have nothing to do with any blackmail. And you can’t prove I did.”
“Which is it? You weren’t involved or I can’t prove you were. You can’t have it both ways, Jeremy.”
“Look. I didn’t know about the blackmail, okay? They just asked me to follow a couple of guys and report back to them.”
“They being Scroggins and Porter?”
“Yeah.”
“And who was it they had you follow.”
“The guy that runs that big box store and one other guy.”
“Who?”
“I don’t want to say.”
“Was it Roger Bradley?”
“Who?”
“The man who bought the restaurant out along the Interstate.”
“Oh, him. No.”
“Then, who?”
“I take the fifth.”
“Jeremy, this isn’t a court of law. Those rules don’t apply here. Now, tell me who the second man was.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re looking for a killer.”
“It isn’t him.”
“How do you know?”
“Because this guy’s a nothing. A nobody. Even his wife orders him around.” He shook his head disgustedly. “The guy’s such a total wimp.”
“So what was this timid guy doing?”
“Well, there’s this woman, see?”
And the lightbulb in my head finally lit up. “Jeremy,” I said. “You’re going to have to trust me one more time..”
“Why?”
“Because I’m taking you to see the Police Chief. I want you to tell him what you just told me.”
~~~
I’d set my plan up with Ginger and Gossford in advance. And a little before nine that night, I entered Santa’s Cabin. Ginger was standing next to the doorway. Agnes was wandering about the place, picking up toys and depositing them in a brightly painted toy chest. Santa sat on his throne, humming, apparently happy to see the end of another workday approaching.
“Melanie,” Farmer said, grinning broadly when he sighted me. He was apparently getting ready to give me the unwelcome benefits of his manly charms again. “You’re looking luscious tonight.”
I smiled sweetly, knowing his days of treating women obnoxiously were about to end. “Thank you.”
“Melanie,” Ginger offered up her greeting, her voice a bit more strident than normal. I attributed the unusual sound as being triggered by her concern over what was about to come down here.
“Ginger,” I replied with a quick nod of my head. “Do you want to run along and warm the car up?”
“No,” she said. “I’ll stay. Frigid weather doesn’t bother me all that much.”
My jaw dropped. Ginger had just strayed off script. She was supposed to leave. Take Agnes with her.
In the meantime, Agnes tossed in her own two cents worth. “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll wander on home.”
“That’s fine,” Ginger answered, never removing her gaze from my face.
Ginger had been ticked that when the last confrontation with a killer had happened, she hadn’t been part of the scenario. Was her determination to remain with me her pathetic attempt to even the score?
I hesitated a moment, wondering what to do? A lot of time had gone into planning this operation. I wasn’t sure how Ginger’s presence would complicate the issue. But she was here, and short of physically shoving her out the door, there was little I could do about it.
Taking a deep breath, I returned my attention to Santa Claus. “So when did you decide to kill him?”
My quarry managed to look confused. “Kill who? What are you talking about?”
“Scroggins,” I said. ” You murdered him.”
His mouth twitched slightly. His gaze flicked back and forth between Ginger and me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think I do.”
He glared at me. “Porter killed Scroggins, everybody knows that. You’re just too dumb to see it.”
“Really? That’s a tidy solution. I’ll give you that. But tell me, who killed Porter?”
“You’re nothing but a reporter,” he snapped. “You need to leave solving murders to the police. Unlike you, they know what they’re doing.”
“Maybe you’re already on their list.”
Farmer stood. He ripped his beard off. Perspiration stood out on his brow. “That’s nonsense,” he roared. “The police haven’t spoken a word to me. Why would they?”
“Maybe they haven’t interviewed you yet. But that doesn’t mean you’re not on their radar. Maybe they’re just waiting for that last little piece of evidence before they step in to arrest you.”
Farmer’s face flushed red. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snarled.
“I think it’s all about that wife of yours. About her ambitions. She wouldn’t be too pleased to have word of your womanizing made public. She wants to run for alderman. A public scandal might end those dreams. And then where would you be? Off that little comfy perch you’ve got at home, right?”
Farmer’s face flushed a terrifying red. “Scroggins had no right to hound me. He had no right to demand money of me. Who was he? A nothing. A nobody.”
“So you’re saying Scroggins was a blackmailer? That’s why you killed him?”
I wanted to get his confession on record. I wanted his words to flow through this microphone I wore and out to the police huddled inside a van parked near the cabin.
Farmer came nearer. “That dirty, no account scoundrel. And now you come. What? Do you want money too? Well, I don’t have any. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. She’s got the money. And she’s not about to share it with me.”
Farmer lunged at me, fingers grasping for and then closing tight about my throat. I’d never thought him to be a strong man, but I was helpless in his tight grip. I struggled. It was useless. My pounding fists bounced off his body without doing any damage at all.
I gasped, I saw black spots. Then, I heard a loud clunk. And suddenly, Farmer’s grip loosened. His hand slipped onto my shoulders as he slid, unconscious down to the floor.
Glancing up from Farmer’s prostrate body, I stared at Ginger standing over him. The loose, heavy arm from Santa’s throne dangled in her right hand.
“I got him for you. I saved you,” she babbled. Tears flowing, she dropped the weapon and pulled me into her arms..
Behind us, the door to the cabin burst open. Gossford and four of his men rushed into the room.
“I’m so sorry,” I managed to squeak out through my tortured throat. “I never... got him... to name Scroggins."
“That’s okay. We got enough to convict him.”
Twenty Two
“I can’t believe you did that. Wore a wire. Faced down a killer. Thank heavens for Ginger.
I nodded.
It was Saturday night, and Josh Devon and I were at a charming restaurant enjoying a wonderful meal and each other’s glorious company. Especially that last part.
“I was never in any danger.”
“Right. That’s why Ginger had to bash Farmer over the head with the arm from Santa’s throne to save your hide.”
“Yes… well, I’m not sure Ginger will ever come down from that high. She just loved performing that little trick.”
“I can’t say I blame her. But what did you find the most frustrating with the case?”
“The warehouse. I never could figure out what role it played in this mess. I think the only two men who could have explained that are gone.”
“Scroggins and Porter?”
I nodded. “Unfortunately, neither Jeremy or his mom seem to know anything about that venture.”
>
“And the blackmailing?”
“Oh, that was real enough. Gossford’s contacted most of those names in the diary. They all told the same tale, Scroggins was robbing them blind.”
Josh reached across the table. Took my hand in his. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Gossford was a little slow to show up for the party, but he made it. No one got hurt.”
“And you sneaked into Barnaby’s apartment and stole that diary?”
“I didn’t steal it. I only borrowed it. I put it back.”
“But you know better than to tell Gossford of your little trick?”
I tried but failed to hold back a grin. “I think he already knows.”
“What do you mean?”
“When Wendy and I entered the apartment, I had to rip the crime scene tape from the door. I think he figures it was me.”
“How did you respond?”
“I played dumb.”
“It sounds to me like you got a little overly involved in this homicide business.”
“Maybe. But you know me. Once I get started on something, I never know when to stop.”
“So it was Farmer killed Scroggins and Porter?”
“Yeah, apparently Porter tried to take over the blackmailing gig after Scroggins was killed. That’s what the break in at Scroggins apartment was about.”
“The one that and so frightened Wendy?”
“Yes. I think Porter was after the names in tat little black book.”
“The one you know nothing about?”
“Bingo. That’s it.”
“Anyway, it worked out okay this time.”
“It did. Ginger came up a trooper and so did Jeremy. Dad’s offered him a part-time job doing little tasks at the paper. I think he likes the boy.”
“Ginger will make it through now to the end of Santa’s cabin?”
“Just as soon as she finds a replacement for Santa Claus.”