“I want you to get Cindy and bring her over here to ID the so-called stalkers, and I figured she would be more comfortable if you were with her.”
“That’s very thoughtful. Of course I will. What do you mean so-called stalkers—and stalkers, plural? Did Edgar catch them?”
“Not exactly. He and Larry Wismer were both involved. They are at the clinic getting patched up…nothing serious. Old Mrs. Wismer is on her way here, so get a damn move on.”
“What has she got to do with this?” His sweet little ol’ granny? How could she be involved?
“She may have to post bail for Larry, and he’s a minor so she has to be here anyway. Just move it!” He hung up.
I moved it. I called Cindy and told her Edgar had caught the stalker—I made it singular. I did not say Edgar was injured, I didn’t mention Larry at all. I told her Sonny needed her “for identification” purposes, and that I would pick her up in the bank parking lot in fifteen minutes. I saw no reason to have her as befuddled as I was.
I read once that Einstein on one occasion gave a flip description of his theory of relativity: Five minutes seems only a second when you are dancing with a lovely woman; it is an hour when you are sitting on a hot radiator.
Well, I was with the lovely woman, but the ten-minute drive was feeling like an hour. Cindy was one long question, from the minute I picked her up. How did Edgar identify and arrest the stalker? How would she know him? She had never really seen him in action. Was he a local she would recognize? Did I—Alex—know him? Did Sonny think he was dangerous?
I muttered vague answers, since I had no concrete ones. After an eternity, we reached the police station and I practically ran inside, leaving Cindy to play catch-up. I couldn’t face another question.
Sonny met us at the door with some questions of his own before he took us into the conference room—a transparent euphemism for interrogation room.
“Cindy,” he asked at once, “do you remember where they had Commercial Street dug up for days, looking for and finally fixing that water main leak?”
“Uh, yes, sure.” She looked bewildered.
“And you did have more than one occasion to be in that area while it was being worked on?”
“Oh, probably a number of times. I have lunch down that way fairly often. I remember going to the drugstore once…and maybe to Lena’s Little Boutique to pick up some stockings. Why?”
“Do you remember how many workers there were and what any of them may have said to you?”
She leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling for a minute.
Finally, she nodded. “As I told you the other day, there were anywhere from two to four young guys and an older man. The older guy was not in coveralls. He had on a blue shirt and pants, like maybe he was some sort of boss. He looked cleaner, too. Some of the young guys said stuff like, ‘Hey, honey, got time to go for a beer?’and ‘Meet me after work and wear that tight skirt you had on yesterday.’ And one said I looked tired and did I want him to tuck me in. Oh, yes, one of them said I had a nice ass. You know, typical male macho stuff. I simply ignored it all—I didn’t even bother to tell them to go to hell.”
“What about the older man, what did he say?” Sonny watched her sharply.
“Nothing at first. Then one day s-something really nasty, as I told you the other day...I just ignored it, tried to forget it.” She was pale and obviously frightened.
“Honey, you really should have told me. Exactly what did he do?” I asked.
“I didn’t quite hear every word, but I got the gist of it. It scared me, but I thought if I told you, you’d confront him and get hurt. And I wasn’t even sure of exactly what he looked like. Oh, God, I’ve handled this whole thing wrong!”
I could see tears about to roll and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“No, you haven’t. We’ll straighten it out.”
Sonny took her arm gently. “Let’s go in…so we can get out fast.” He smiled down at her.
I followed them down the hall. Cindy looked back at me. I shrugged. She knew as much as I did.
In the conference room sat three young men in grubby coveralls bearing the logo of the Water Department and looking scared. There was also an older man with graying hair and looking somewhat like Edgar Fountain. I found myself wondering if they could be brothers. Then I noticed he wore a blue workman’s uniform with an ID tag on his shirt pocket: R.J. Travis. Well, maybe they were cousins.
Sonny motioned for us to sit, while he remained standing and cleared his throat as he turned on the tape recorder. He gave the names of everyone present and finally got to specifics.
“Cynthia Hart, do you recognize these four men, and from what encounter?”
Cindy looked puzzled for a moment, and then hit her stride. “Yes, I do. They were working on the water main leak on Commercial Street about two weeks ago.” Then she again went down the list of their comments to her.
Sonny indicated Mr. Travis. “Did this man make any similar comments?”
“Yes. Later. Something about a van and a hot potato…and…uh, having sex. I didn’t hear it all clearly.”
“Ah!” Sonny sounded triumphant. “But someone else did hear it clearly!”
He turned to Travis. “You see, Mr. Travis, although Ms. Hart was almost out of earshot, a young man happened to be standing in front of the drugstore, where he was to meet a friend. He clearly heard you say…” Sonny looked down at a three-by-five card with writing on it. “You said, ‘Tuck her in? I may just toss her into the van and fuck her up. Us older guys know how to treat a hot potato.’ You did say that, didn’t you?”
“I don’t recall saying that,” Travis mumbled.
“Uh-huh.” Sonny gave the men his shark’s grin. “All four of you are guilty of making lewd solicitations in public. You also may well have infringed on this young lady’s civil rights: any woman is entitled to walk down the street without being subject to such remarks as you made.”
Cindy’s eyebrows had done their moving toward the top of her forehead act. I wondered if Sonny was making up laws as he went along, although his accusations did sound logical. But he wasn’t finished.
“But you, Mr. Travis, are also guilty of threatening kidnap and rape.”
Cindy turned pale again; obviously just this phrase frightened her badly. It frightened me.
Travis banged the table with his palm. “I didn’t say no such thing! I may have said she was good-looking or something. Whoever says I was going to rape her is crazy.”
“Sure.” Sonny looked at him pityingly. “Well, maybe these young oafs will remember what you said if the prosecutor drops their charge to a misdemeanor.” The three oafs began grinning and winking at each other. They would remember Travis threatened to shoot the president if it would get them off lighter.
Sonny frowned portentously and made a note on the card before him. I saw that it read: Pick up chicken and squash for Mom.
“Well, I’m not holding any of you until we evaluate Mr. Wismer’s statement, but don’t plan any trips. You may go…for now.”
They cleared the room with three-alarm speed. As soon as they were in the hall, I turned to my brother. “Larry Wismer? Is that kid everywhere? Isn’t he that young stock market whiz hanging around Cindy all the time? What’s this with Wismer being a witness?”
“That’s what I want to know,” said a woman’s well-modulated voice from the doorway.
Larry’s dear old granny had arrived: tall, slender, attractive and late fifties max.
She wore navy slacks and an undeniably blue shirt with white collar and cuffs. Her only real sign of age was her white wavy hair, partially covered by a jaunty panama hat that matched her shirt.
Sonny was on his feet, introducing himself, Cindy and me, helping Mrs. Wismer into a chair, thanking her for being so prompt and straightening his tie all at the same time.
“Did Larry actually hear such a terrible threat? Why didn’t he tell me? And where is he, by the way? Not in your c
ustody for some reason, surely.”
Sonny took a deep breath and began. “The four men were working on a water leak on Commercial Street when Cindy Hart crossed the street. One of them made a rather harmless come-on comment to her. She ignored him. Your grandson was outside the drugstore, waiting for a friend. He heard both this remark and the more serious one made by the older man, a supervisor named Travis, which comment I believe you overheard from the hallway. Yes?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Wismer nodded. “Sickening. I wish Larry had told me. I would have called the Town Manager at once. Believe me, he would have had that Travis man fired in a heartbeat.”
I felt an automatic liking of the lady, but I couldn’t let Travis’s threat be foisted off on to the dubious efforts of the town council.
“I’m afraid it is a little more serious than that, Mrs. Wismer. That kind of threat is not only a crime and possibly a hate crime, it has caused Cindy a great deal of on-going fear and stress.”
“I suppose you are right, and I’m terribly sorry about what Cindy has gone through. I must admit, however, I’m not happy with Larry being involved with the police.” She cocked her head at Sonny. “And I ask again: where is he?”
At that moment the intercom buzzed. Sonny picked it up, listened and said, “Thanks, Nacho. Send them in.” He turned to Mrs. Wismer. “He’s here.”
The hall door opened, and Larry and Edgar came in. Mrs. Wismer gasped and Cindy did her eyebrow thing again. Sonny leaned over to me, stifling a giggle—we both have an unfortunate tendency to giggle at inopportune times—and he wasn’t helping me much right now.
He whispered, “They look like two guys from that painting of the three Revolutionary War soldiers, all bandaged up and marching along with a drum and fife and flag.”
They did indeed. Larry had a splint taped to his nose, which also looked to be packed with cotton, and a thick Ace bandage around his right thumb and hand. Edgar Fountain had a blossoming black eye and was walking very strangely and delicately.
“My God, my poor baby! What on earth happened to you?”
Obviously embarrassed, Larry tried to speak nonchalantly, no easy task when you’re talking with half a bale of cotton in your nose.
“I’m okay, Gran. It’s just a busted node and a sprained thub. Bud the doc gave me a pain pill and I feel funny—like I did thad time I drank the cookin’ sherry.” He sat down abruptly. “And I’m real sorry Offider Fountain thad I hit your eye and kicked you id the…id the lower stomach.”
“Larry! You had a fight with a policeman? You’re lucky he didn’t kill you!”
“I’d like to,” Edgar muttered. Mrs. Wismer stiffened and glared. She took a deep breath, ready for a verbal artillery blast, but Sonny beat her to it.
“All right, everybody quiet please so we can wrap this up and let our wounded heroes go home.”
He shuffled some papers and continued. “Larry, you were in front of the drugstore, waiting for a buddy, and you heard what Travis said, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you got a very good look at him, didn’t you?”
“Un-huh. I walked over toward him to tell him he should neber speak to a lady lide that, especially Mid Hart. Bud I chickened oud; there were too many ob them.”
“A smart move. Your next smart move would have been to tell the police what had happened. But it was spring break, you had several days to do what you wished, so you decided to handle it yourself.”
Larry dropped his head. I hoped he didn’t start the nose bleed again.
Sonny winked at me and continued. “Now, Larry, we know you have—shall we say—a warm feeling for Ms. Hart, so you began to follow her to make sure nothing bad happened to her.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Of course…Larry.
Cindy whispered, “Oh, my God, why didn’t I see it?”
Mrs. Wismer’s feelings were more audible. “Oh, Larry, what the hell were you thinking? You asinine young pup! Having a crush on an older woman is one thing, turning into the Avenger is another! I could just shake you! Look at all the trouble you’ve caused and now your lovely nose will never look the same!” She burst into tears.
Larry followed suit. And this was not good for packed noses. I reached down the table, patted his hand and put my oar in the water.
“Now, Larry, listen to me. You weren’t the only one to make a mistake. Cindy was frightened and should have told me or Sonny, but she was afraid one of us might be hurt. So she walked around figuring this Travis might appear any minute, toss her in a van and molest her.”
I paused to light a cigarette, ignored my dear brother’s meaningful glance and did not hand it to him. So he took up my commentary instead.
“Cindy had not gotten a good look at Travis, so any man over forty frightened her. You didn’t fall into that category, Larry, so even if she noticed your following her, her radar classified you as friend, and it never occurred to her that you were her ‘stalker.’”
I casually moved my cigarette pack out of Sonny’s reach, smiled and picked up on what I had been saying.
“Your note on her car was not one of your brighter moves, but in the long run, it was good. It upset Cindy to the point that she told Sonny and me of her ‘stalker,’ and Sonny set things in motion to find him. That has been done. By the time it comes to trial, you will be able to speak English again. Your heart is as big as New Jersey, Larry Wismer, and it was in the right place all the way, even if the rest of you wasn’t.”
“Hear, hear,” cheered Cindy and Sonny. Mrs. Wismer managed a smile. Edgar Fountain let out something between a moan and a growl.
“Yes, Edgar, I understand your displeasure.” Sonny gave him a sympathetic head shake. “If I have it correctly you were in your car in the bank parking lot, not realizing Cindy was busy and working through lunch. Larry-On-Patrol mistook you for Travis, pulled you out of your car and popped you one in the eye, while yelling for someone to call nine-one-one.”
I took pity and handed Sonny the lighter and cigarettes. He lit one, took a puff and went on.
“Deputy Fountain, you tried to cuff Larry, but he somehow twisted away and you grabbed at him, spraining his thumb, the pain causing him to kick out at you and cause you considerable smarting in the, as he said, lower stomach. Fortunately, two security guards then ran out of the bank and separated you. Now I know you both have a beef here. And you could each hire a lawyer and keep him or her in fine old brandy for the next five years, until you settle anything.”
He took a drag. “My ardent recommendation is that you both forget it. Larry, I hope you’ve learned a lesson. Edgar, you know pain sometimes goes with the job…just send us your bill.”
Sonny’s fingers did a little tap dance on the intercom, and within seconds Nacho and Hatcher came in briskly. Sonny gave them their directives. “Hatcher, please help Larry to his grandmother’s car—he’s a little woozy. Then drive Officer Fountain home in his car. Nacho, follow Hatcher and bring him back. Thanks. Now, Mrs. Wismer, let me walk you to your car. You know, that hat is perfect with that outfit.”
She looked up at him and grinned. “Charmer!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Cindy and I stood looking at each other for a moment, perhaps feeling like schoolkids no one had told that class was over and they could leave the room. Finally we laughed and skipped out, arms around each other’s waists and singing that we were off to see some wizard.
Reaching my car, we agreed that lunch was in order and the Wharf Rat was the place. It didn’t take us long to get there.
A weekday meant it wasn’t overcrowded this early in the year. I was glad to note that Harmon and The Blues Boys were not in session. I wasn’t up to another chapter of Cassie and her Three Musketeers…or to some other wild drug plot he thought he had uncovered.
I was surprised to see who was there. My mother and Aunt Mae were having lunch. With other customers still fairly thin on the ground, they had made themselves comfortable at a table for four
and waved us over.
“Darlings! What a nice surprise. I hope you can join us?”
Of course we could, and as we sat, a waiter appeared asking if we’d care for a drink. Cindy ordered a double scotch and soda; I opted for a double bourbon old fashioned and did a credible imitation of Cindy’s eyebrow trick, and Aunt Mae gave us her best myopic stare. Then they both looked at their watches and took a meaningful sip from their iced tea glasses.
“It’s been a hectic morning,” I offered as our excuse.
“It’s been a hectic spring,” Cindy underscored.
“What on earth happened to warrant double drinks barely after noon? I assume this is not an everyday occurrence,” Aunt Mae asked, her mouth a prim, disapproving little pout.
I remembered what my mom had told me about Aunt Mae and Uncle Frank when they were first married—that they were definitely members in good standing of the wild party set. I was in no mood for her rare holier than thou act, and came very close to telling her so.
Fortunately, the waiter came with the drinks and asked for our food order. Cindy grabbed a menu. I ordered my favorite, a pastrami on rye with french fries and a half-sour pickle.
Cindy handed the menu back to the waiter and said, “Just double that.” She was really in a recuperative mood to pass up her usual healthy salad for my kind of lunch. I was delighted.
When he left, I looked at Cindy and said, “You start.”
She sipped her drink and began to tell them the tale of the stalker. She was unaware I had told them a portion of it before we went on vacation, and they—fortunately for me—were shrewd enough not to let on. Now, at least, it was presumably history. As we told them of the various events, including this morning’s wrap-up, they registered, sympathy, outrage and—at the end—amusement.
Happily our food arrived then, and we could eat while we mumbled answers to their questions.
Murder Takes to the Hill Page 22