4 Murder at Breakfast

by Steve Demaree

  “But George, I don’t want one of your men. I want one of your women.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “Didn’t you say that Heather Ambrose used to be a gymnast and a ballet dancer?”

  “Cy, don’t tell me. You’re going to give up that Wii contraption and you want to take ballet and gymnastic lessons.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “So, why do you want to know about Heather? Yes, it’s true she did both when she was in school.”

  “As you know George, I’m working on a murder here. I need someone who has a flexible body to help me. That eliminates me, you, and Lou. I thought of Heather. I want her to get in and out of an apartment if she can, going through places that most people can’t go through. Do you think she’ll be game?”

  “She loves you, Cy. She’ll do anything for you.”

  “Ask her to wear one of those gymnastic type outfits under her uniform, and to bring some kind of cover up.”

  “Cy, is this anything that will get her on YouTube?”

  “I hope not. Give her this address and ask her if she’ll meet Lou and me in the parking lot at 2:00.”

  “At 2:00. Which are you giving up, Cy, your lunch or your nap? Never mind. I know which one. Since I know you don’t have a cell phone, give me the number where you’ll be and I’ll call you back in ten minutes if she can’t make it. Otherwise, if you don’t hear from me, she’ll be there. But you take good care of her, Cy. Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  “You have my word. After she gets here and sees what I want her to do, if she thinks any of it is too dangerous, all she has to do is let me know. I’ll call you to take her place.”

  I hung up and turned to Lou.

  “Well, Lou, what do you think about this rope ladder business?”

  “Oh, I think it’s easier to figure out than anything else we’ve run up against so far.”

  “Oh? Enlighten me.”

  “Well, I think everyone is telling the truth.”

  “And what evidence do you have to support that?”

  “Well, I think the woman who’s away is telling the truth, because who would have a rope ladder and store it in the basement? It wouldn’t do anyone any good down there. If the woman had a rope ladder, she would keep it by her window, or at least on the floor of her bedroom closet. Next, Wally says he received a note. I think he did. I know the manager says she saw him in the computer room writing something, but if Wally had written a note to back up his story, he would’ve kept it and showed it to us to get him off the hook.”

  I was impressed. True, I had the same thoughts myself, but I was amazed that Lou could still function mentally in his weakened state.

  “So, what about Hilda Winters?”

  “Well, more than likely she’s telling the truth, too. At least as far as Wally bringing her the rope ladder is concerned. Of course that doesn’t mean that she wasn’t the one who planted it in the closet.”

  “Yeah, anyone could have done that, but what we need to learn now is does the rope ladder have anything to do with the murder. We know the plate of food found in Mrs. Higgins’ apartment doesn’t.”

  We knew the rope ladder existed, because we had it in our hot little hands. We had no idea if its existence meant anything. More than likely the murderer was responsible for the rope ladder we had in our possession, but did it have anything to do with how the murder was committed? Could it be that someone planned to use the ladder to get into Mrs. Higgins’ apartment, only to have those plans squashed when Russell Cochran confiscated that ladder, and the murderer had to buy another ladder to execute the crime, then saw that the ladder passed through three other hands where it would eventually be found, or hidden away in an apartment never to see the light of day? Or was the ladder a red herring? And then there was one other possibility. Could it be that Russell Cochran or Elaine Jewell bought that ladder to cast suspicion away from someone who had no need for the rope ladder and to other residents who couldn’t have gotten into Mrs. Higgins’ apartment any other way?

  31

  There was still some time before lunch. I wanted to see inside those two apartments. I wanted to see Imogene Ingram’s apartment first. I wanted to see if there were marks on any of the window sills. Although it was right above us, I took the long and flat path to the elevator, rode it to the top floor, and trudged back to the apartments. I had already closed the elevator door before I realized that Lou wasn’t with me. Was he still checking out something in Mrs. Higgins’ apartment? When I rounded the corner far enough that I saw the door to Mrs. Ingram’s apartment, I had my answer. There, standing in front of the door, smiling, was a shell of the friend I used to know. I ignored him and slid the key into the lock.

  I opened the door, stepped inside. In many ways it looked like the apartment I had just left, Mrs. Higgins’ apartment. All the windows were in the living room, so it wouldn’t take long to check them out. I stepped over, saw that each window was locked. I flipped the lock and lifted each window, one at a time. I looked carefully. There were no markings similar to the ones I saw in Miss Winters’ apartment. Could it be that the rope ladder didn’t enter into the mystery? Time would tell. After lunch, Heather would assist us and we would try the rope ladder to see if it worked, and if it made any marks. Only after that would we be able to narrow down the murderer’s choice of entry. We didn’t have a lot of time to spare, so Lou and I hurriedly searched the apartment to see if anything stood out. In the ten minutes we took to search, we found nothing out of the ordinary.

  We closed and locked the door, hurried across the hall to Mrs. Davis’s apartment. A few minutes inside that apartment revealed nothing we didn’t already know. Although I saw no reason to look for marks on any of the windows in this apartment, I checked anyway, and found none. We closed and locked the door, turned and saw a maid’s cart outside Mr. Cochran’s room. Evidently the maid was inside. As we stepped closer, I heard her vacuuming. I took advantage of the situation to check the cart. If the rope ladder was used, she was the prime suspect. I gave the cart a meticulous check, feeling safe as long as the noise from inside continued. In the two or three minutes we spent searching, we found nothing. We had just given up when the noise inside ceased. We were around the corner and on our way to the elevator before the door to Mr. Cochran’s apartment opened.

  +++

  I had become so engrossed in the investigation that I had forgotten about Rosie’s promise until just before we arrived at the Blue Moon. I wondered what treat Rosie had in store for me. By the way she acted, it was something that would appeal to me, and the Lou I used to know. Was she trying out some new dessert? Were we having banana pudding, one of my favorite desserts? It had been a while since the Blue Moon had offered it.

  I jingled the bell on the front door, and a smiling Rosie looked up from behind the counter.

  “So, are you going to tell me now, or do I have to wait?”

  “Not until you sit down.”

  I think I set a record in getting to the stool. I think Lou was a little slower than usual, on purpose.

  “Okay, I’m ready. What is it? A new recipe? An old favorite?”

  “A very old favorite. A dish popular all over Kentucky.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re fixing my granny’s old-fashioned groundhog possum stew, the one with snail’s warts.”

  “Very funny. Just for that, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”

  “Rosie, did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite girl?”

  “Okay, you win. One of our choices today is the Kentucky Hot Brown.”

  “Bring it on. I can hardly wait.”

  It had been months since I last sampled a good ol’ Kentucky Hot Brown, a dish not well known outside the state of Kentucky. Toasted bread topped with turkey, ham, bacon, and a tomato on top, covered with lots and lots of Mornay sauce, then heated under the broiler. I know the original recipe developed by the Brown Hotel in Louisville didn’t have ham on it, but a lot of today’s recipes do, an
d I say the more the merrier. Like many places today, the Blue Moon offered two sizes of Hot Brown, and Rosie didn’t need to ask which size I wanted. A few minutes later, my eyes danced as Rosie sat a platter full of scrumptious delight in front of me. For once, I can say I truly don’t have any idea what Lou ate for lunch.

  As it turned out, I was partially right. When Rosie shared with me the possibilities for dessert, homemade banana pudding baked in the oven was one of them. I opted for two large bowls full of that pudding, and it was everything I could do to refrain from licking the bowls when I finished. I think that when I finished it was the closest I had ever come to asking Rosie to marry me. No, I didn’t love her, and she wasn’t even the one who fixed lunch, but she was the one who saw that I got my just desserts, all of them, and any man worth his salt knows that one of the most important things about a woman is how well she cooks for her husband. In the few years Eunice and I were married before she died, she cooked wonderfully.

  I had never felt so full of fat in my life. How glorious of a feeling it was! I was in no mood to move off that stool for at least a few days, but I looked at my watch and at 1:40, somehow I came to a standing position and waddled out to Lightning to share with her about my wonderful meal. I think I heard my food sloshing around contentedly inside me. We had just twenty minutes before our date with Heather. In a way, I hoped she was late.

  +++

  At 1:58, a car much larger than the driver inside pulled into the Parkway Arms driveway. A driver much larger than the car he drove stepped out to meet her.

  “Cy, Lou, how’ve you been?”

  “Well, one of us has been a lot better than the other,” I replied.

  “Yeah, I saw where you put Lou to shame when it comes to Wii workouts.”

  “You saw it, too.”

  “Of course, Cy. I understand you’re going to be the Grand Marshall and ride in the Wiimobile at the Fourth of July parade.”

  “Bite your tongue.”

  That little thing, who was not much more than one-third of my robustness, grinned and gave me a hug. Then, she did the same to Lou. As I watched her, I wondered if she realized how far Lou had sunk. If so, she didn’t let on, but that was the way Heather was. She didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

  After she hugged Lou, she turned back to me.

  “I understand that you have some death defying stunts you want me to attempt.”

  “Let’s go inside. I’ll show you what I have. You let me know if you want to attempt it.”

  Heather Ambrose was a professional. She knew what to attempt and what not to try. We rode the elevator to the second floor, got out. Then we went around and I unlocked Mrs. Higgins’ door and walked in.

  I explained to Heather about the murder, and told her the murderer had gotten in and/or out in one of four ways. Either they took the easy way and walked in the door, or they used the dumbwaiter, the laundry chute, or the rope ladder from the apartment above. I wanted Heather to let me know the feasibility of the last three.

  “I assume that’s why you had me wear my gymnastics outfit.”

  “That’s right. At least for the two inside the apartment.”

  Heather started taking off her uniform, right in front of Lou and me. I felt like a voyeur, even though by the time she got down to whatever it was she was wearing, she looked like a young woman wearing a pair of long johns with a lightweight swimsuit on top of it. I looked at her, standing there in her bare feet, wearing that outfit, and I felt like she was ready to do a flip over the couch and land on the floor on both feet.

  “I hope you’re not in any hurry. I want to study these things before I attempt them.”

  “Absolutely, take your time. If you need anything from us, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Well, Cy, there is one little thing.”

  “Just name it.”

  “Well, it would be a big help to me if you’d hop in that dumbwaiter first and pull me in.”

  I laughed.

  “Heather, dear, may I remind you that contrary to public opinion only one of the two things you mentioned, me and the dumbwaiter, has the word dumb in its name. Now, Lou and I will sit over here and watch you work. Remember, don’t try anything that would cause George to shoot me.”

  The slight young woman, who stood around 5’4” and admitted to weighing 112 pounds, opened the dumbwaiter and looked inside. I had already pushed the button to get the device to our floor.

  I watched her as she contorted her body, first one way, and then the other, trying to slide herself up into the dumbwaiter, or turn around and pull herself to a standing position. As I looked at her, part of me thought of her as a daughter, whom I didn’t want to see hurt herself. The other part of me made me wish I was a young man again. I could definitely have gone for Heather if I was a rookie on the force. I wondered what she thought of Officer Dan Davis, one of my favorite officers. Maybe I would ask her.

  “Sorry, Cy, it must have been those last three of four pounds. I almost made it, but not quite. My guess is that no one got in or out of this apartment using the dumbwaiter, if that’s what you want to know.”

  “Now, see what you think of the laundry chute, but, please be careful.”

  She looked in and down. There was no up.

  “Where does this go?”

  “To the basement.”

  “Just as I figured. I don’t think anyone could’ve dropped down this chute and lived, not unless there was a sizable airbag at the bottom, and I’m not even sure that would be enough to save someone. Do you want me to see if I can climb up from the bottom?”

  “Yes, but please be careful.”

  “I’d need for you to go with me, just in case.”

  Heather donned a wrap she had brought with her, and we headed for the basement. Fortunately, we didn’t meet anyone on the way.

  I had left Lou upstairs and told him to toss a penny down the chute when we hollered up to him, so we would know for sure that we had the right chute. Heather and I plotted on the way down, and decided if we heard a dumb sergeant holler “help” then we needed to quickly move out of the way once we found what chute the voice came from. He had landed on me before in the line of duty, and I was in traction for weeks. Of course that was back when he was a full-size man.

  A few seconds later, instead of a penny, a Hershey’s kiss came tumbling down the chute. We both laughed. I would get even with a wasting-away sergeant.

  Heather had me wrap my mitts around her waist and hoist her up to the opening in the chute. This opening proved to be much larger than the dumbwaiter, but two or three attempts to climb up the chute proved fruitless.

  “I’m sorry, Cy. There were no places to grip. My hands and feet kept slipping. I think it’s safe to say no one got in or out this way, either. Let’s see about that rope ladder.”

  We took the elevator back to the second floor, walked inside the apartment, where I threw the Hershey kiss back at Lou.

  “If you want, you can get dressed and we take the elevator up to the apartment above this one.”

  “I don’t need to get dressed. I’m dressed as much as your grandmother was when she went to the beach. I’d just as soon get this over with, then get dressed. George said to do what I could to help you, then I could go home for the day.”

  I picked up the rope ladder, we walked out and I turned toward the elevator.

  “Cy, didn’t you say it was the apartment right above this one?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, wouldn’t it be closer to go this way?”

  I was trapped. I motioned for Heather to lead. I followed her up the stairs and unlocked the door. I tossed the rope ladder down on the floor, and went over to open a window. I decided to let Heather secure the ladder and test it, since she was going to be the one using it. Lou had opened the window downstairs and had stepped out onto the roof, ready to catch Heather if she should come tumbling after.

  Heather hooked the ladder over the window sill and jerked on i
t to make sure it was secure. Then, she stepped out onto a rung of the ladder, while still holding on to the window sill. After she was sure that everything seemed safe, she stepped down the ladder in record time, and jumped over the sill and into Mrs. Higgins’ apartment. Once inside, she stuck her head out the window and gave me an “OK” sign. I motioned for her to come back up the ladder.

  We pulled the ladder back inside. She noticed no frays, but I discovered a mark on the window that had not been there before. Evidently, we were the first to use the rope ladder to descend to the apartment below.

  I had one more place to check, the storage area where the ladder that had taken up residence outside Mr. Cochran’s apartment used to be stored. The two of us left the apartment and opened the door to the storage area. The ladder was gone, but someone had left the dust behind. There was plenty of dust, but no footprints. What someone had left, however, was marks made by a rope ladder. Someone had used the rope ladder to get from the storage area to the roof below. Even though I knew this, we continued our experiment. Heather secured the ladder, tested it, then made her second descent of the day. Lou moved over in case he was needed. Much like a relay, Heather touched down on the roof, then began her ascent back to where I was. Again, no glitches, but when we removed the ladder, it had again left a second mark behind.

  We joined Lou in Mrs. Higgins’ apartment and I filled Lou in on the test results while Heather went to the bathroom to wash the bottom of her feet. When she returned, I asked her the likelihood of most adults being able to use the rope ladder.

  “I think most adults in fairly good condition could do what I did, just not as fast.”

  “I don’t know if you noticed or not, but someone else had used the rope ladder to descend to the roof. We just need to find out if that’s how the murderer got in and out, because no one could have gotten in using the dumbwaiter or the laundry chute, and as far as we know, the chain kept someone from entering through the front door.”

  “But are you sure someone got in the apartment?”

  “Not to murder her, but later someone definitely did.”