by B L Crumley
I climbed the three cement porch steps and rang the doorbell. Around a minute later, I considered ringing it again, but decided to wait a bit longer. Seeing that it was a large house, it could take someone a while to answer the door. Not long after, the door opened, and I was immediately disappointed as I realized it was highly unlikely that this woman killed Earl.
She was around seventy, barely five feet tall, and I doubted that she weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet with her clothes on, shoes and all. Then I felt guilty for being disappointed that she probably wasn’t a legitimate suspect because that wasn’t very nice. Lately, I was just worried about Fern.
“Can I help you?” she asked, a worrisome glint in her eyes.
I smiled, hoping to put her at ease. “Hi, Mrs. Weinberger. My name is Charlee King, and I’m from Rockfish Bay. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about your former insurance provider, Earl Henderson.”
At the mention of his name, her mouth pinched. “What would you like to know?” she asked coolly.
“Were you aware that he’d recently been murdered?” I asked, hoping to glean something from her reaction.
“Yes!” she grinned brightly. “Best news I’ve heard in months. Who are you again? And why do you want to know?”
Oh, well, okay then. Perhaps she did hold a grudge.
I briefly explained that I’d found the body, and how Earl was Fern’s neighbor, and I was just trying to help out my aunt. She seemed to believe I didn’t have any ill intentions and invited me inside.
The interior of her home was tastefully decorated in a minimalist style. It felt cold to me, but the pieces she did have looked expensive, confirming my earlier thought that she wasn’t in need of money.
Could she have hired someone to kill Earl? Physically, she couldn’t have done it, unlike my aunt, who was six feet tall and plenty sturdy. But she could have paid someone.
Phyllis led me into the living room, where I sat on a firm white leather couch. She sat adjacent on a matching white chair and crossed her leg over her knee, folding her hands on her lap, very prim and proper. My mother would like her.
“I heard that you had an issue with your policy with Mr. Henderson that resulted in the forfeiture of benefits.” I was pleased with how professional I sounded.
She scoffed. “That’s one way of putting it. We paid our premiums annually, and Earl failed to notify us of an increase. Then about three and a half years ago, my husband had a heart attack and died. I was supposed to receive a million dollars, and guess what I got? Nothing.” She leaned back in the chair and folded her skinny arms across her petite midsection.
The way she said it sounded so cold and almost cruel. Did she even love her husband? She seemed more upset about the money than she was her husband’s death. Could she have played a role in that as well? I was tempted to question her further on that, but I decided it was best to stick with why I came, for the moment.
“So, you sued him?”
“Yes, and his partner Russell Jenkins.”
That was news to me.
“My lawyer thought we had a very strong case. It was dragging on forever as those things usually do, and then when I finally thought we were getting close to settling, their lawyer produced paperwork showing that we had been notified of the change in the policy and claimed they bore no liability,” she spat, her voice filled with anger. “Then the judge threw out the suit.”
“Had you ever received the paperwork regarding the change in the policy?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“No.” Her brows veered together, making her face appear more wrinkled. “It had to be forged.”
My eyes widened at this accusation, and I scooted closer to the edge of the sofa. “What makes you say that?”
She threw up her hands. “It took them almost six months to come up with that document. If they had, in fact, sent it to us as they said they did, it should have been in our file at their office. But it wasn’t. My husband kept meticulous records, and we never got it. And if we’d been paying the wrong premium for close to two years, why didn’t they say something?”
“Because they’re crooks,” I muttered.
“Exactly!” she pointed her finger at me. “I know they pocketed our premium and came up with the fake paperwork to avoid paying a settlement.”
“Wouldn’t their business liability insurance pay for that?”
“I doubt they even have it. Or if they do, it wasn’t enough to cover what I was suing for. And I can’t prove it, but I heard from another person in town who said that they had known an elderly woman who was scammed by them too.”
“Do you know their name?”
She shook her head. “Unfortunately, she passed away. But apparently, she didn’t receive any benefit after her husband died either. Jenkins and Henderson claimed the same thing. That she’d failed to pay the correct premium and her policy had lapsed. Only her benefit was for around one hundred thousand, and she didn’t have the means to fight it, like I did.”
I believed Phyllis, but with her surly attitude I had a difficult time feeling sorry for her. Especially since she didn’t seem really broken up over her husband’s death. It seemed strange, unless she had a miserable marriage, which was also possible. Either way she had a motive.
“You seem happy that Earl is dead.”
“I am,” she admitted freely. “He was a horrible human being. And so is his partner. I’d love to see him put out of business,” she seethed.
“Or dead?” I suggested.
She looked at me bewildered for a second. “What? Wait, do you think I had something to do with his death?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. Did you?”
She glared at me. “Of course not. And do I look like I could kill somebody with a shovel?”
“How did you know he was killed with a shovel?”
“I heard it at Lulu’s Steamin’ Beans when I was there the other day,” she said defensively.
Well, that I believed.
“You could have paid someone to do it?”
I swear, I could almost see daggers coming out of her eyes. “I wouldn’t waste a dollar on those thieving low-lifes. And I think we’re done here.”
I gulped, desperately trying to figure out a way to patch this up. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you killed Earl. I just know that my aunt didn’t, and I’m trying to figure out who might have, or at least had a reason to want to.”
She huffed. “Well, like I said, I’m sure I’m not the only client he cheated. There could be any number of people who are glad that man is dead.”
She was probably right. Unfortunately, that didn’t give me much to go on. I thanked Phyllis for talking with me and let myself out. On the drive back to Rockfish Bay, I mulled over my next move.
Phyllis’s comments raised some new red flags about Russell and would be worth checking into. Only I wasn’t sure where to start. I still needed to hunt down Sting Ray, but to be honest, I was kind of freaked out by that, so I’d prefer to exhaust my other options first.
With that in mind, I decided my best bet was to go talk with Cole again, and tell him hurry up and find the actual killer. Or at least convince him not to arrest Fern.
When I got back into town after meeting with Phyllis, I drove straight to the police department. Inside, I marched to the reception window, then froze, debating if I should leave.
“Charlee! What brings you by?” Kenny’s little brother Troy beamed at me, speaking in a loud friendly voice. “It’s nice to see you again. Kenny said he saw you—”
“Troy,” I cut him off before he said anything else about Kenny and me. The deputies and clerks were already looking in our direction. “I’d like to speak with Sheriff Walker. Is he available?” I asked quietly.
“I believe so, but let me check.” He picked up the phone on the desk t
o page Cole. “Hey, Sheriff. Are you busy?” he asked. “Well, Charlee King is here,” he paused. “Yeah, okay, I’ll tell her.” He set the phone back in the receiver and looked at me. “He said he’ll be with you in a minute. Go ahead and have a seat.” He motioned to the benches lining the opposite wall.
“Thanks, Troy.” I moved briskly across the hall and sat down before Troy tried to make any more small talk, and pulled out my phone.
This way if he looked at me, hopefully he’d get the hint that I was busy. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t dislike Troy. I just didn’t want to take a trip down memory lane within earshot of the entire Rockfish Bay Police Department.
I regretted not getting Cole’s number from Fern. Calling him would be easier than dealing with this. Then again, I felt I could be more persuasive in person. Still it probably wouldn’t hurt to have his number, just in case I wanted to…
I stopped myself from finishing that thought. I needed to remember that my relationship with Cole was strictly professional. I was here for Fern. Cole and I weren’t going to date, or socialize, in a personal capacity after this.
After all, I was going back to Portland… But was I? Right now, I didn’t know. Since Cole arrived this morning and said Fern could be arrested, I hadn’t given much more consideration to my future plans, and probably wouldn’t until this was over.
And speaking of that, it would be nice if this murder would get solved soon because I was quickly eating through my vacation days.
“Charlee.” Troy held the door open that led to the back offices. “The sheriff will see you now.”
I stuck my phone back in my purse as I strode past Troy. “Thanks.” When I reached Cole’s office, the door was slightly ajar. I was about to knock when it opened.
“Charlee.” Cole stood by the door, eyeing me curiously. “What can I do for you?”
I stepped into the room and proceeded to sit in one of the chairs I’d occupied when I was last here with Preston, the first time Fern got arrested. Unfortunately, things hadn’t changed much since then. Cole returned to his desk and eased into his chair.
“I came by to ask if you’ve found any other suspects. Besides Fern,” I clarified.
He picked up a pen and tapped it lightly on the wooden desk before placing it on a notepad. “You know I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.”
I slid toward the edge of my seat and leaned forward. “Oh really? Is that because there aren’t any other suspects?”
He frowned.
“Well, this morning you said you thought Fern might be arrested for this, which is absurd because you and I both know that Fern did not kill Earl. Which leads me to believe that you don’t have any additional suspects.” I leaned back in the chair and folded my arms across my abdomen.
“And if that is the case, then I would say you’re not trying very hard,” I added cheekily.
Cole placed both his hands on the desk and glowered. “Is there a reason you stopped by, Ms. King?”
Great, we were back to that. Although, after my last comment I deserved it.
“Or do you just enjoy pestering me?”
I grinned. “Well, maybe just a little, Sheriff Walker.” I threw formality back at him.
“Charlee, I actually have real work to do, so if there isn’t anything else…” his thought trailed off as I raised one eyebrow questioning his statement.
I know, I was really on a roll, and probably going to get myself kicked out any second now.
“Actually, I think I can help.”
Now it was his turn to raise a brow. “Oh really?”
“Yes.” I leaned forward in my seat. “Did you know that Earl was selling drugs?”
Other than a slight eye twitch Cole showed no visible signs of surprise, so I wasn’t sure if that meant he didn’t know, or if the twitch was merely because he was annoyed with me.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked directly.
I thought back to Floyd’s threat to have me whacked if I spoke to the cops. “I can’t say.”
Cole’s eyes flew to the ceiling, and I could guarantee he was counting in his head to avoid unleashing his anger on me. Or he was praying for patience. It could be both.
His head lowered, and his eyes bored into mine. “You mean you won’t say. And I’m sure you’re aware that it’s a crime to withhold evidence.”
“Who said I was withholding evidence?” I asked innocently. “Could just be hearsay.” But it wasn’t.
“You’re talking about Earl’s brother, Floyd, aren’t you?” Okay, he apparently already knew. Perhaps I didn’t give him enough credit.
“Yes,” I said softly.
He eyed me suspiciously. “You didn’t talk to him, did you?”
I hesitated, then nodded begrudgingly.
“Charlee!” His hand made a fist and I thought he was going to pound it on his desk, but he stopped, and dropped his hand into his lap. “I told you to stay out of this. Did you forget our conversation the other day?”
“No, I remember it clearly, it was right before my…” I hesitated, and his eyebrows raised.
“Your date,” he supplied.
“No, just lunch,” I corrected.
“How was that, by the way?” There was a hint of teasing in his tone. Frankly, I was shocked he was halfway flirting with me right now.
“Fine,” I lied. Actually, Preston’s company was fine, it was seeing Ashley that ruined everything.
“You just chose to ignore what I said,” he accused.
“I wouldn’t say ignore. I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a chat with Floyd. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think he killed Earl. But I’m pretty sure he knows more than what he told me,” I rambled, pausing at Cole’s furious expression.
“Charlee,” he started, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Come in,” he barked.
The door opened, and in waltzed a petite woman around my age. “Hi, Cole,” she cooed sweetly. “I was just returning the file I borrowed.”
She wore a sleeveless snug white blouse tucked into a tight black pencil skirt and three-inch heels. With a flick of her wrist she casually flipped her straight blonde hair (clearly not her natural color) over her shoulder.
This woman was all the things I was not. Short, skinny, and beautiful. I admit, I pretty much loathed her on the spot. Her smile died abruptly when she noticed me.
Cole stood and took the file from her and placed it on his desk.
“Sorry to interrupt. I didn’t realize you were with someone,” she gave me a fake smile, and not a very good one at that. I would know since I used them regularly, especially since coming back to town.
“Harper, this is Charlee King,” he motioned to me. “And Charlee, this is Harper Mitchell, the new DA.” At that pronouncement, I almost started choking, but managed to recover with a pretty convincing fake smile.
Harper, however, didn’t hide her disdain and scowled. It was clear she knew who I was and didn’t like me. I didn’t care because the feeling was mutual.
“It’s nice to meet you.” She eventually curtailed her scowl with another weak smile and turned back to Cole. “I’d like to speak with you later when you have a minute.” She fluttered her fake black eyelashes and smiled.
“Sure,” he said, dipping his head in a slight nod. District Attorney Barbie spun on her ridiculously high heels and left the room without giving me a parting glance.
Cole returned to his chair and sat.
“So, that’s the new DA.” I stated the obvious.
“Yes.”
With her thinly veiled disgust toward me, I had a very bad feeling about Harper Mitchell. “Why is she even here?” I whispered as if she might be listening at the door.
“She’s just getting a feel for things. Learning the ropes from Mr. Hines before she starts her term,” h
e explained unconvincingly.
I rolled my eyes. “You know that’s not true. If it was, you wouldn’t have come to warn Fern today. Why doesn’t someone stand up to her? She doesn’t have the authority to call the shots yet, but she will if you let her.”
He glared at me, clearly not appreciating that I was putting this on him. “Charlee…” he lowered his voice. “That office is beyond my purview. I’ve learned that it’s best to stay in your own lane, and I suggest you do the same.”
I stood and approached his desk. “Then do your job and find the person who killed Earl. Because it wasn’t Fern, and there is no way I’m going to sit around and do nothing and let her take the fall for this.” I wanted to add something snarky, like Thanks for nothing, but I refrained.
The look on Cole’s face told me he was seriously ticked, and I took that as my cue to leave. When I reached the door, I almost turned around and apologized, but the stubbornness in me won out. I was ticked, too. Cole might think he was helping, but allowing Fern to get arrested for a crime she didn’t commit wasn’t very helpful in my book.
Harper was talking with one of the deputies as I walked toward the reception area. I could feel her heated glare on me as I passed. I had a feeling that her dislike of me had more to do with me talking to Cole than anything else.
Her family may not be a big fan of my family, but she didn’t know me from Adam. What she did see was competition. For Cole. Because the look in her eye when she’d walked in Cole’s office made it clear that she wanted him.
That thought sent a laugh tumbling out of my mouth. Not because she was interested in Cole, as that annoyed me a bit, but that she thought I was competition. I didn’t even live here, and she already had it out for me.
Chapter Fifteen
“C harlee, the load in the washer is done,” Fern hollered from down the hall late the next morning.
“Thanks, Fern. I’ll get it.” Rubbing my hands together, I brushed off as much flour as I could before washing my hands at the sink.
I’d spent most of the morning making bread for some other fundraiser or church event my mom was running, and I had also promised to save out a few loaves for my brothers. After switching my jeans and several other items to the dryer, I returned to the kitchen to clean up my bread mess.