by Diane Morlan
I felt my whole body grow cold. “Oh, crap, it wasn’t Al, it was you,” I whispered.
Why didn’t I realize that the pudgy little man who seemed to be everywhere at Polka Fest wouldn’t be missed for short periods of time. People would just think he was at a different tent on the Fest Grounds. And the red truck with the sausage man on the side was so familiar around town, that no one would pay any attention to it parked on a residential street.
“You should learn to mind your own business, girlie. I tried to warn you. Now I’m going to have to shut you up, too. I’ve got nothing to lose at this point.”
Stall, I had to stall, I thought. I put my hand in my sweater pocket and pushed the number 4 button, then the “send” button on the phone. At least I hoped that I had pushed the right buttons. “I understand why you killed Wes. He wanted his share of the money from the bank robbery, didn’t he? You spent it all to buy your share of the meat market.”
“Damned economy. I would’ve had the money to pay Wes if my stocks hadn’t tanked. I just didn’t have the money to give him. I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. When he hit me in the stomach, I just grabbed the first thing I saw and stuck him. I just wanted him to stop hurting me. I didn’t mean to kill him.”
I took a little step forward, moving in real close to him, hoping he’d automatically move back. It worked but he was still a good way away from the door. There were people all over the fairgrounds. If I could get close to the door, I could yell and maybe someone would hear me and come to help.
“I heard that you saved money for years to buy the meat market. Why did you need to rob the bank?” Another tiny step forward.
“It was my wife. It’s all her fault.”
“Why? Did her illness take all your savings?” One more step.
“No, we had insurance for that. She gambled it all away. While I was working to save for our future, she was at the casino losing it faster than I could earn it. The cancer finally slowed her down, but by then she’d lost all of our savings.”
“I heard that you used her life insurance to buy your share.” Another step. We were getting closer to the door but not close enough for me to be sure someone would hear me if I yelled.
“Ha! I only had a $10,000 policy on her. The funeral took most of that. I was desperate. I had no other choice.”
“What about Marty? Why kill her?” I asked.
The Fest Meister shook his head and waved the knife around. “Man, she wouldn’t shut up. She demanded I give her Wes’ share. Kept telling me she’d blow the whistle on me. Stupid broad. All Wes did was drive the car. And he almost took off without me when the shooting started. Why should that broad get anything? I thought I’d just get in and out of her house while her stupid boyfriend was at church. Then you women stared coming in and out of the house. I almost got caught when her boyfriend walked in the front door just as I slipped out the back way. Now we’re done talking.”
He grabbed my arm, and pushed me in front of him, toward the back of his truck.
Poking the knife at me, I jumped as he said, “Move!
I took a few steps forward, then spun around, put both hands on his chest, and pushed with all my might. Frank fell backwards and crashed into a stack of folding chairs. The chairs fell off the rack and Frank hit the floor. I turned and ran through the door, shouting and waving my arms. A hand reached out and grabbed my arm. I screamed. Detective Decker pulled me into his arms as Jacobs moved into the doorway pointing a gun at the Fest Meister.
“Drop the knife, Metzger. It’s all over.” Jacobs said.
“You tricked me! You can’t do this to me. I’m the Fest Meister!” He leaned over and placed his hunting knife on the cement floor.
Jacobs gave him an amused grin. “Fest Meister, you have the right to remain silent…”
I looked around and saw four squad cars along with the black sedan that I realized was Jacobs and Decker’s unmarked car.
Lieutenant Jacobs put the Fest Meister in the back of one of the squad cars and they left the Fest Grounds.
Decker grabbed me by the shoulders. “That was an incredibly stupid thing to do, Jennifer. You could’ve been hurt.”
“Didn’t Angelia tell you where I was?
“Yes, but what if we hadn’t checked in?”
“Did you get my cell phone call?”
“Yes, it’s the reason we knew you were in trouble.”
“See, I knew you’d show up,” I bluffed.
“What if we had been on the other side of the county? Jennifer, you could’ve been killed, damn it.”
Whoops, I hadn’t thought of that.
Just as I was searching for an answer, Decker pulled me into a bear hug and kissed me. It was worth waiting for, believe me.
21
Tuesday
I pushed the “end” button on my cell phone and stuck it in my purse. Grabbing my car keys, I rushed out the door into the garage. Megan and Bernie would be here to pick me up in a half hour and I needed to check out the last store for Laura’s Coke stein. One more place to check and then I’d be done with this exasperating beer stein quest. I found a parking place right in front of 422 Center Street, right in the middle of the downtown area. This is where the “Coins to Cups” store was supposed to be. However, the script on the window announced “Messer’s Jewelry.” I looked at the paper in my hand. It read 422. I looked around to the stores next to and across the street from the jewelry store. Ben Franklin, Aunt Martha’s Confectionery, Book Nook. No coin shop.
I got out of my car and walked toward the jewelry store. Thinking that Coins to Cups might have gone out of business, I decided to ask at the jewelry store if they knew anything about the previous owner. When I got to the door I saw under the large gold script declaring Messer’s Jewelry a smaller sign--Coins to Cups.
I went inside and walked past glass show cases sparsely filled with jewelry. About a dozen wristwatches and pocket watches were in the first case. Bracelets and earrings were in the second. They were sorted by the type of stone in them, pearls, rubies, emeralds and others. Next to them were gold chains and bracelets.
Across from them were cases that held rings. A considerable number of diamond engagement and wedding rings along with ruby, emerald and pearl rings, arranged much the same as the other jewelry.
As I perused the contents of each showcase I heard a snapping, popping noise coming from the back of the store. I made my way toward the sound and saw a woman sitting behind the counter, snapping the gum she was intently chewing.
Her head was down and she was poised over something on her desk with an odd little tool in her hand. When I got up to the counter I saw that she had the back of a man’s watch open and was using the tool to poke at something in the watch.
She looked up and appeared surprised to see me standing there. “Oh, hi. I didn’t hear you come in. The buzzer must not be working. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for Coins to Cups. This is the address I have for it.”
“Yeah, it’s in the back.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. I looked where she had pointed and saw a glass door with a sign bearing the same gold script as the one on the front door. “Thanks,” I said, walking toward the back door.
The woman answered, “No problem.” But she had already dismissed me and was back to poking at the watch and snapping her gum.
When I opened the door to Coins to Cups, jingle bells attached to the inside door handle announced me. The room was wide but very short. Only about eight feet separated me from the woman standing behind the counter. Young and perky, she beamed at me. “Welcome, come in and look around. Let me know if I can be of help to you.”
“Thanks,” I replied, looking around the minuscule shop. There were two other people in the shop, both older men leaning over a table where the perused several coins laid out in front of them.
Instead of showcases, the coins were in loose-leaf books stacked on the table where the two men were standing, paging throu
gh them. Each black binder had information on the spine—country, denomination, and year they were minted.
Three rows of narrow wooden shelves surrounded the room. The shelves held cups, mugs, steins and other drinking vessels. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the display. It appeared that when one cup was purchased, another took its place, regardless of color, size or anything else.
I turned toward the sprightly sales clerk and said, “I’ve never been in a stor within a store before.”
“Everyone asks about the store the first time the come here. My Dad owns the building. When my sister took over the jewelry store when he retired, he had this part sectioned off for me because he knew how much I wanted a coin shop.”
“That was so thoughtful. Is it working out for you?”
“I’ll say! I’ve been here three years now and it’s doing quite well.”
I’d have liked to talk to her longer but I needed to complete my task. “Do you have any Coca-Cola beer steins?” I figured it would take less time to ask than to check each cup on each shelf. Besides, it seemed on this beer stein hunt, the more I looked, the more I bought.
“Absolutely!” she answered, coming around the counter and pointing to the wall to my right while moving toward it. Here’s one. It’s really cute.” She lifted a Santa mug off the shelf. She was right, it was cute. Santa sitting with a Coke glass in his hand while an elf dressed in green poured Coke from a bottle into the glass. The handle of the mug was shaped as a Coke bottle. “This is very cute,” I told her. “But it’s not what I’m looking for. Here’s a picture of the one I need.”
She took the picture from my hand and with her index finger on her mouth, she pondered. “You know, I’ve seen this beer stein.”
“You have? Did you sell it?”
“No. I didn’t have it, but I saw it.”
Oh, joy! I was getting closer. “Where did you see it”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember. I was going to buy it but I was in a hurry and thought I’d go back later. Then I forgot all about it until now. Where did I see it?”
I waited, hoping she would remember.
“Nope, can’t remember.” She said, holding out the picture.
“Can I leave my number with you? If you come across it or remember where you saw it, would you call me? I’d truly love to buy it.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
I handed her my card and mentally crossed the last name off my list.
Before I left, I looked at the men paging through the coin books. “Hey, Randy. I didn’t know you were a coin collector.”
Bernie’s old beau, Randy Vetter turned and greeted me. “Hi, Jennifer. I just collect pennies. Been doing it since fifth grade. Remember Mrs. Huber? She got me started.”
“I loved Mrs. Huber. She was like a chubby aunt. Randy, I’m sorry the police bothered you.”
“They didn’t really bother me, Jennifer,” Randy said, shrugging his shoulders. “They bothered Lisa though. I was just surprised when they showed up at my door.”
“I hope Lisa isn’t still mad at me.”
“She’ll get over it now that they arrested Frank. She sure was in a snit, wasn’t she?” Randy laughed and stuck a toothpick in his mouth. “She’s one fiery woman.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “Take care, Jennifer.” Turning to the girl behind the counter, he asked, “Got any of those new Lincoln pennies? I need the one with the log cabin on the back.”
Bernie and Megan were waiting in my driveway when I pulled up. I parked the car in the garage and listened once again as the door creaked close. I really had to call someone about that.
“Where have you been?” Megan called to me from her open window.
I jumped into the back seat of Megan’s SUV and said, “Let’s go, girls. I’m hungry for potato pancakes.”
Megan pulled out and we were on our way to have breakfast at our favorite place.
While we stuffed ourselves with pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast we discussed the events of the day before.
The waitress at Dottie’s Diner, whose nametag read “Pansy” took the empty plates off the table and said, “I’ll bring the coffee pot over, looks like you’re going to be here for awhile.”
“Is the manager in?” I asked. “I’d like to talk to him if he is.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Pansy asked.
“Oh, no. Of course not. I have a business proposition for him.”
“He doesn’t come in today until three. Can I help you?”
“As a matter of fact you can,” I said, pulling a three-pound bag of my best restaurant blend from my oversized purse. “Have him try this out and then give me a call. I can give him a very good price if he likes my product.”
It was almost lunchtime and we were still hashing over the events of the last few days. Megan set her coffee mug on the table. “The best part was when I kicked Edwin off my porch while it was raining. He actually sputtered.”
Pansy had just brought a coffee carafe to our table and began refilling our cups when Detective Decker slid into the booth next to me. “I thought I’d find you here,” he said to me. He casually lifted his arm and rested it across the back of the booth with his fingers just barely touching my shoulder.
“How did you find us?” I asked. This was our secret place.
“I’m a detective, remember?” He smiled that wicked smiled at me.
“Yeah, great job detecting the Fest Meister, Mister.” Had I really said that?
“We would’ve gotten there, Jennifer, and without putting anyone in danger.”
Crossing my arms, I sat up straighter in the booth. “Listen, Detective Decker…”
“You can call me Jerry, you know. We’re not strangers anymore.” Again with that smile. I may have even blushed, remembering that kiss.
Before I could think up a retort, Pansy plopped a cup in front of Decker and filled it from the carafe she’d left on the table. “Want your usual burger and fries, Jerry?” she asked.
Decker nodded, and then looked at me as if he’d just been caught with his hand in a cookie jar.
“Great detecting, Jerry.” I said.
While Decker ate his lunch, we peppered him with questions.
The Fest Meister had saved for years to start his own business. A year before the meat market went up for sale he found that Ida had been withdrawing money faster than Frank was depositing it. She gambled it all away.
Frank started saving again, this time putting the money in an account that Ida couldn’t touch. About four years ago, she was diagnosed with cancer and died a few months later. When the meat market came up for sale, he talked his brother, Al into going into business with him. Since Al was a butcher it appeared to be a good idea and he told Frank he could come up with half the money.
Frank didn’t have near enough money to pay his share and the closing was in thirty days. That’s when he contacted Wes and Sally’s father and they put together the plan to rob the bank.
“Trudy told me he used Ida’s life insurance money to buy the meat market.” I said.
“That’s what everyone thought. Turns out Frank only had a $10,000 policy on her. That’s barely enough to pay for a funeral.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “I saw Al and one of the Princesses in the cargo truck when I left the Fest Grounds Saturday night. How did Frank get the truck and run me off the road?”
Decker pointed a finger at me. “That’s what happens when amateurs get involved in police business. Al gave the Princess, who is his niece, a ride home. She only lived a few blocks away. When he got back to the Fest Grounds, Frank took the truck and Al stayed around to dance and party after the closing ceremony.”
“But I don’t understand. Why did Frank kill Marty?” Bernie asked.
“Marty had no idea it was Frank who had killed Wes. She demanded that he pay her the share he owed Wes. She knew all along that Wes was in on the bank robbery.”
“But she told us s
he didn’t know anything about it,” I said.
“Jennifer, people lie all the time. Did you expect her to tell you she was involved in the extortion attempt of a bank robber?"
Frank had parked his truck around the corner from her house, threaded his way through various backyards and came in Marty’s back door. Marty thought he was there to pay her off.
When he left after killing her, he crossed a few different backyards and came out at his truck as if he’d just made a delivery. No one paid any attention to him since they were used to him or Al in the truck, driving all over town to deliver orders to homes and businesses. He had become invisible.
“Oh, good Lord,” Bernie said, “What if he had come in while I was there?” She crossed herself.
“He saw you Sister,” Decker told her. “He waited for you to leave, then went in to confront Marty.”
“What about Al?” Megan asked. “Was he involved at all?”
“No,” Decker replied, “He thought, just like everyone else, that Frank had used his savings and Ida’s life insurance to pay his share.”
We were finishing our last cup of coffee when Natalie Younger trotted into the room.
“My, my, look who’s here,” she said, pulling a chair up to our booth and plopping down as close to Decker as she could get.
“Are you the new detective in town that I’ve been hearing so much about?” She actually, no kidding, batted her eyes at him.
While he was looking for an answer, I introduced him. “Detective Decker, meet Natalie Younger.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Younger,” he said, leaning away from her and closer to me. Under the table he grabbed my hand.
“What have you all been up to? I heard that you solved a murder, Jennifer. You certainly can get mixed up in the craziest things. Can’t she Detective?”
Megan stood up. “Okay, gang, the bus is leaving.”
Since she’d driven, Bernie got up and I motioned to Decker to let me out.