Murder in the Middle: A Susan Wiles Schoolhouse Mystery

by Diane Weiner

  “I, I’m not lying,” said Mitch. Jackson pounded his fist on the metal table.

  “We know you’re lying. Do you want to add perjury charges to whatever else we wind up charging you with?” said Jackson.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was helping a friend,” said Mitch.

  “What friend, Mr. Coniglio?” asked Lynette. Mitch squirmed in his seat.

  “Okay, I was helping my girlfriend, Sophie Bartolo.”

  “By lying about your whereabouts the day she was kidnapped?” asked Jackson. “What was your involvement with her abduction? Were you working with Caleb Bartolo?”

  “What? No. That’s crazy. Sophie was getting threats from Caleb. He even threatened to kill her. Sophie suggested maybe he was staying at the veteran’s hospital since he’d come back to the States. She figured maybe he got injured over there. I was just going there to talk to him,” said Mitch.

  “And did you?” asked Lynette.

  “No. Turns out he wasn’t there. It was a dead end. Then it started snowing really hard and the roads were bad, so I stayed over at the Super Eight Motel. I didn’t know Sophie was missing until I got back into town. She didn’t answer her phone all night. I knew something was wrong.”

  Lynette handed Jackson the credit card report. “Looks like he’s telling the truth about the motel.”

  “Okay, Mr. Coniglio. You’re free to go, but don’t go far. We may have more questions,” said Jackson. He stuck his thumbs through his belt loops, then followed Lynette back to her office.

  “Where do we go from here?” asked Jackson.

  “We still have Lindsay Bateman’s cell phone found at the crime scene. That’s a smoking gun.”

  “But her mom and she confirmed that Lindsay was with her that night.”

  “Come on. Her mom? How credible of an alibi is that? After all, she wouldn’t want to see her daughter get into trouble. Maybe, just maybe, she lied,” said Lynette.

  “Don’t go getting all sarcastic on me,” said Jackson. “What’s with you these days?”

  “None of her neighbors saw her that night. No one could remember whether or not her car was even in the driveway.”

  Susan burst into Lynette’s office. “Lynette, I have some important information for you,”

  “Mom, I thought you were volunteering over at the school today?”

  “I am, but I had to tell you this first. Dad and I went out to dinner last night. We went to Donna’s Diner.”

  “Donna’s Diner? What gives? You heard us talking about the tipster saying he saw Sophie there, right?”

  “You caught me. Anyhow, this is important. One of the waitresses did remember seeing Sophie, twice during the time she was missing. She ate dinner there alone and her hair was all tucked into a hat, like she didn’t want to be recognized.”

  “We already interviewed the wait staff. How is it this person didn’t come forward earlier?”

  “She was out of town visiting her sick mother the day you went to the diner. Here. I have here name and phone number for you.” Susan handed Lynette a slip of paper.

  “Good work, Mrs. Fletcher,” said Jackson.

  “Jackson, don’t encourage her,” said Lynette.

  “Lynette, you have to admit that this is good information. Let’s go talk to that waitress.”

  “If this pans out, looks like Sophie has been telling a whopper,” said Lynette.

  “Maybe it’s that Stockholm syndrome. The victim starts trusting the captor. I saw it on Dateline.”

  “Mom….”

  “It’s possible that Caleb and Sophie weren’t enemies after all. Maybe they wanted some private time and Sophie made up the whole story as a cover up,” said Jackson. “Maybe she didn’t want Mitch Coniglio to know, or she thought it would look bad if she was seen with her dead husband’s brother.”

  “Maybe Mitch found out and was so angry he killed Caleb,” said Susan.

  “Or the old boyfriend Rusty did it,” said Jackson.

  Lynette chimed in. “Could even be Lindsay Bateman. We might as well call in the Long Island Medium. Come on with the guessing. We have to rely on the evidence.”

  “Let’s go back and talk to Lindsay, then Rusty,” suggested Jackson.

  “Good idea,” said Susan.

  “Mom, you’re expected over at the school.”

  Chapter 42

  Susan was surprised to receive a call from Mike in the middle of the work day.

  “Hi, Hon. Scott Bartolo just came by my office and asked if you could come by. Something about Caleb’s murder. He wants to talk to you.”

  Susan felt a little like a peacock fanning its feathers. “Sure. Tell him I’ll be right there.” She practically flew over to Mike’s office. Scott was pacing around his office when she arrived.

  “Susan, look. I found this in my gym locker.” He handed her a manila envelope. Caleb seemed to have had an affinity for manila envelopes. “Didn’t make sense for Caleb to keep up a full time gym membership so when he was home, he used my card to work out. He had my locker combination too. I hadn’t been there since before Caleb died. I went this morning and found this.”

  Susan opened the envelope. “It’s a lab report.” She skimmed through the papers. “This is the name of some type of drug, I presume. Was it something Caleb was taking?”

  “No. He didn’t take anything regularly as far as I know.”

  Susan reread the report. “The signature on this is Dr. Witherspoon. He’s the forensic pathologist I spoke to.”

  “Forensic pathologist? That’s the first I’ve heard about using a forensic pathologist. We had reports from the medical examiner for both of the boys. He found nothing unusual in Adam’s system, and it was confirmed that Caleb died from blunt force trauma.”

  “I think Caleb suspected there was more to Adam’s death and he went ahead and hired Dr. Witherspoon to give it a more thorough look. I have a friend who’s a pharmacist. In fact, she worked with Caleb. I’ll ask her what this medication is,” said Susan.

  “And there’s this phone number in here too,” said Scott.

  Susan examined the paper he handed her. “Did you call the number?”

  “No. What was I going to say? I don’t know if it means anything at all. I called you because I figured the police would think I was jumping to conclusions.”

  “I’m going straight to Rite Aid. I’ll call you if I find out anything,” said Susan.

  “Be careful,” said Mike. “We know there’s a killer still out there and if he thinks you’re getting close to the truth….”

  “I know, I’ll be careful,” said Susan. She loved that Mike was so protective of her and didn’t want him to worry, but she had to forge ahead. “I have Lynette on speed dial.”

  Susan drove across town, frustrated by the midday traffic. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Come on, move. She hit each of the three separate traffic lights just as they turned red. Come on, turn green. I need to get to Rite Aid fast. A dump truck pulled in front of her. She clenched the steering wheel so hard her fingers hurt. When she finally arrived, she ran into the store and found Josie.

  “Josie, I need your help.” Susan was out of breath.

  “What’s wrong, Susan?” said Josie.

  “This just turned up. It’s a lab report that Caleb ordered. Can you tell me what this medication is?” She showed Josie the report.

  “Medipress. It’s a blood pressure medication.”

  “Blood pressure? Is it harmful?”

  “Not if you have high blood pressure and take the correct dosage. It’s fairly common. Look, I’ll show you one.” Josie went to the shelf and brought over a capsule. She broke it open and poured out a fine powder. “It’s by prescription only.”

  “Is there any reason a healthy young man like Adam Bartolo would have taken this?”

  “Not if he didn’t have high blood pressure. I’m not supposed to do this, but I’ll see if I can still access his prescription records. He came in occ
asionally. She spent a few minutes searching. “No, he didn’t have any daily medications at all on file.”

  “So, if someone gave him this drug, could it have killed him?” asked Susan.

  “Maybe if he took a whole bottle.”

  “Could someone have slipped it to him say in food or in a drink?” asked Susan.

  Josie licked the powder off her finger. “The taste is bitter, but hypothetically, someone could break open a few tablets and mix them into some strong tasting liquid. Fruit juice maybe. To cover the taste of the amount he would have needed to ingest in order for it to be fatal he would have had to drink gallons of the stuff.”

  “Thanks, Josie. I may be back.”

  “Anytime I can help I’m happy to,” said Josie.

  Susan was trying to connect the dots between Adam’s death and the blood pressure medicine but she was stumped. Surely if someone wanted to kill him there were more efficient drugs to use. At the stoplight, she tried the phone number on the paper Scott gave her, but there was no answer. As she continued driving, she got that pins and needles sensation in her arms and legs. Was she in some sort of danger? A car was following her. Again? She made several turns just to be sure it wasn’t her imagination. The other car did the same. She looked at the plate number and tried to memorize it before pulling into a fire station. It was then that the other car took off. This time she got a few numbers and saw that it was a dark blue Honda Civic. Immediately she called Lynette and told her what just happened.

  “Are you okay, Mom?”

  “Do you believe me now?”

  “This is obviously not your imagination. I’ll run the numbers you got and see if anything turns up. Go home and rest. Now it’s getting dangerous. You should keep your nose out of things before you wind up getting hurt.”

  Chapter 43

  Susan’s legs could barely carry her to the front door. She pulled up her comforter and took a long nap with Johann and Ludwig. Cats and her quilt. There was nothing more relaxing. She woke up abruptly to a knock on the door. It was Lynette.

  “Mom, I just wanted to let you know that the car that followed you was a rental. We checked Rusty, Mitch, and Lindsay against the rental records and it wasn’t one of them.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m not some keystone cop,” said Lynette. “Of course, I’m sure.”

  “By the way, I hadn’t had a chance to tell you what I just learned from Scott Bartolo. He found some things in the gym locker he shared with Caleb.”

  “What?”

  “There was a lab report saying Adam had a blood pressure medication in his system. There was also a phone number. I’ve tried to call it but so far, no luck.”

  “You tried to call it? Haven’t you learned your lesson? I’ll check out the medication.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “That maybe Sophie drugged Adam and that’s what Caleb was holding over her head?”

  “I already checked with Josie Thompson. The pills have a bitter taste and it would have been hard to disguise the amount needed to kill him in food or a drink.”

  “I’m going straight over to see Scott Bartolo. I’m surprised he didn’t come to the police with this right away.”

  “By the way, how are you feeling?” asked Susan

  “Fine.”

  After Lynette left, Susan tried again to call the number Scott Bartolo found. A young sounding man answered. Susan explained the situation and he agreed to meet her at the new Starbucks. She told him to look for a blond lady carrying a flowered purse. He found her right away.

  “Would you like some coffee?” asked Susan.

  “No thanks.”

  “I know. Their coffee smells so much better than it tastes. Anyhow, like I explained, your number was left by a recent murder victim, Caleb Bartolo. I’m trying to help his father figure out why he had written it down,” said Susan.

  “Caleb Bartolo, I remember. He was trying to find out about his brother’s fall at Lake Minnewaska. A private investigator he hired had somehow traced me back to the scene. I was there the day his brother died, you know.”

  “Didn’t the police question you? I know they talked to anyone who was in the area.”

  “I had left by the time the guy died, but I did see the couple having a picnic. I’m a photographer. My partner called me over to photograph a deer, so I was halfway down the trail when he fell. I went back to the studio not even realizing what had happened.”

  “But you remember seeing a couple?” asked Susan.

  “I only remember it because I took a picture.”

  “A picture?” said Susan.

  “A couple enjoying a picnic surrounded by beautiful scenery; waterfall in the background…. I was hired by the park to take photos for an upcoming ad campaign. Thought it would make a good photo for a brochure or something.”

  “Do you still have the photo?”

  “I do.”

  “Did you see anything else before you left?”

  “Like I told Mr. Bartolo, at one point the guy stands up and starts stumbling like he’s drunk or something. I thought it was odd because they’d been drinking what looked like lemonade out of a glass carafe. Even saw lemons floating in it with my zoom lens. I couldn’t figure out how he would have gotten drunk––and so quickly at that. Anyhow, that’s when I got called away.”

  “You need to go to the police with this. It could be crucial to solving a double homicide,” said Susan.

  “If you think it means anything, I will. Mr. Bartolo said not to mention it to anyone, but now that he’s dead I guess I don’t need to keep that promise.”

  Chapter 44

  Lynette and Jackson called Lindsay back to the station. She still insisted she’d never been at Caleb’s and had no idea how her phone had gotten into his house. She swore she was at home with her mother the night of the murder.

  “If that girl’s lying, she’s one heck of a good actress,” said Jackson. “A little weird, but doesn’t strike me as a killer.”

  “Purple lipstick, flowered flip flops in January? A little weird is an understatement.”

  “Let’s go back to Rusty. We still don’t know why his truck was outside Caleb’s,” said Jackson.

  “Alright. He never mentioned being at Caleb’s. Maybe we can jog his memory.”

  When they got to the plumbing shop, Rusty was out on a job. They questioned his father instead.

  “Sir, you told us that Rusty was with you the night of the murder. Is that correct?” said Lynette.

  “Yep. We were working late, then grabbed a bite to eat at Vinnie’s. By the time we were done, it was late. I dropped him off and took the truck home overnight.”

  “You’re saying you drove the truck that night. Where was Rusty’s car?” asked Lynette.

  “In his driveway. He normally drives the truck.”

  “Then why were you driving that night?” Jackson said. “Why didn’t he have the truck that night? How was he going to get to work the next morning?”

  “He had the truck. He dropped me off.” Mr. Sumter nodded his head.

  “But you just said you were driving,” said Lynette.

  “I was. Rusty’s car needed new tie rods so it was at the shop.” He nodded again.

  “Then how did he get to work?” asked Lynette. “He couldn’t have driven to the car repair, and then taken the truck to work.”

  “Stop already,” said Rusty’s father. His face was red and his sweat trickled down his brow. He covered his ears with his broad hands.

  “You seem confused,” said Lynette.

  “No. I know Rusty was with me that night. I didn’t take my pills this morning. I’m feeling cloudy in the head.”

  “What pills?” asked Jackson.

  “My blood pressure pills. I forgot to pick them up at the pharmacy.”

  “What medication are you on?” asked Lynette.

  “Medi something. Medipress.”

  When they were back in the cru
iser, Lynette reminded Jackson that Medipress was the drug found in Adam’s pathology report.

  “Sure makes Rusty look guilty,” said Jackson.

  “Yes, but of which murder? Adam died a year ago.”

  “That father of his is far from what I’d call a reliable source. I say we check out Vinnie’s and the car repair shop. I’m willing to bet Rusty’s alibi doesn’t check out. Maybe he was involved with both murders.”

  They headed over to Vinnie’s, a long established pizza-rant with green walls, and red and white checkered tablecloths––the colors of the Italian flag. The aroma of fresh bread and oregano flooded through the door. A thick haired, middle-aged man was tossing pizza dough behind the counter. He was the owner of the restaurant, but he had a reputation for getting his hands dirty and putting on a show for the customers.

  “What can I do for Westbrook’s finest? Can I get you a slice?”

  “Vinnie, we’re checking out an alibi for the night of January 30. Could you go through your credit card receipts and check if Rusty Sumter and his father were here that evening?” said Lynette.

  “Sure. Give me a few minutes.” He wiped his flour-laden hands on his apron and disappeared behind a curtain.

  “My stomach is rumbling. How about we each get a slice to go?” said Jackson.

  “You know, you’re going to be one of those middle-aged men with a big old pot belly if you keep eating the way you do,” said Lynette. “Do you think Theresa will still love you if you’re fat?”

  “You know you want some too. I’ve seen you scarf down half a pie in no time flat. You’re just lucky you have a high metabolism.”

  A while later, Vinnie came back out with a printout from the evening of Caleb’s murder. “Yes, Rusty did use a credit card that night. Visa. He paid at 6 p.m.”

  “Six p.m.? Didn’t Rusty’s father say they were working late, then ate dinner?” said Jackson.

  “That’s what he said.” She looked at the receipt. “It looks about right for two people.”

  “Maybe there were two people, but not necessarily Rusty and his father,” said Jackson. “Vinnie, didn’t you install security cameras in your parking lot a while ago?”