Belly Up in the Koi Pond

by Cheryl Zelenka

  Feeling like the Professor had shed light on some important matters, O’Cleary ended the interview and went off to search Ashley’s room. Mary loaded the Professor’s laptop in the police vehicle and Dora went forward in questioning him about his mom’s B & B.

  “Professor, I just have a few questions about the McCall House in Ashland. I read in the report that your mom was living in the B & B up until a month before she passed. By the way, I’m sorry for your loss.” Drainer nodded and bowed his head. Dora gave him a minute to gain his composure then asked. “So, the house was abandoned for nearly a month?”

  “Well, no officer. It was Christmas break, so I stayed at the B & B over the holidays. I visited mom every day while she was in the hospital. She stopped booking customers the year before and just lived at the place on her own. In the autumn, I’d drive down on the weekends to check on her.” Professor Drainer was starting to look nervous again.

  “And on the night of the fire, were you staying at the B & B?”

  “Yes, detective. But I was at the hospital when the house caught fire.”

  “Do you have any idea why someone would intentionally destroy such a lovely historic home?” Dora was hoping she’d catch the Nervous Nellie in a lie. Her gut was saying he set fire to the house. She just didn’t know why.

  “No, I don’t. I mean, I’d have sold the property and used the money from the sale to build a new home in Portland. I could have gained a pretty penny for that B & B. My mom left me a generous inheritance. It really doesn’t make sense that I would set it on fire.”

  “You know,” Dora professed, “I did a little digging a while back and discovered several lovely Ashland homes, six to be exact, burnt to the ground in the 1990’s. They were never investigated but now I’m wondering if arson played a part. Were you living in Ashland at that time?”

  Looking around the Professor’s living room, Dora noticed several candles situated in various locations.

  “Of course. I lived with mom and her second husband. I attended Ashland Junior High School and Ashland High School. Why do you suspect those houses were the victim of arson?”

  “Well, Sir, it’s unusual for so many houses to catch fire within such a condensed period of time and vicinity. People intentionally set fires for many reasons. They may want to rid themselves of a secret, or secure financial gain. But then there are some folk who just like to play with matches and watch houses burn down. It’s called pyromania. I’m sure you’ve heard the term.”

  The professor nodded and added, “Some people have an obsessive need to set things on fire.”

  “Yes, they do. People with pyromania have a mental illness and a problem with impulse control.” Drainer remained silent and didn’t comment further. Dora started in again after a slight pause.

  “Well, Professor Drainer, the arson investigators located 3 areas in your mother’s house that were intentionally set to explode, which started the fire. The accelerants were probably gasoline since bystanders who watched the fire all insist the smoke was very black.” Again, Dora waited for some reaction but the Professor remained silent. Thinking she would question him later at the station she ended the interview. “I’ll keep in touch regarding this matter, Professor. I know you’re waiting on the insurance money.”

  Dora left the Professor sitting on the living room sofa and walked upstairs to Ashley’s bedroom. She found O’Cleary doing a jig.

  “Jackpot, Dora! Ashley did have a journal! This room was a big mess when Mary and I got up here. I’m sure the Professor was searching for something before we arrived, probably this lovely piece of evidence. It was hidden under a sweater, on the top shelf of her closet.”

  Satisfied with their find, the detectives proceeded across the hall to the Professor’s room. It wasn’t long before they discovered his huge collection of matches, lighters, and firecrackers. They also uncovered over 30 photos of burning buildings tucked inside his armoire. Included in his stash was a video. The words, “Pay Back” had been written on the outside cover.

  “We have enough evidence to arrest him on suspicion of arson,” proclaimed Dora.

  “Yes,” mused O’Cleary, “but we can’t jump to conclusions about whether he’s Ashley’s murderer. What would be his motive? Just because she lived with him doesn’t mean he killed her. We’ll have to read Ashley’s journal and examine his laptop.” Dora agreed.

  “Timothy,” Mary prodded, “we ought to go downstairs and recite the Miranda Rights to the Professor. We don’t want him to slip away in a panic. I think he knows he’s busted.”

  Together, the three detectives descended the stairs back to the main level. They found the Professor crying on the sofa. Showing him their finds, they told him he was under arrest for suspicion of arson. Mary read him the Miranda Rights as O’Cleary got out his handcuffs. Dora packaged the journal, photos, and other items inside two large boxes and together, the group left the house and drove to the Portland police station.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Lime Jello

  When Sadie and Lilly entered Zachary’s hospital room, he wasn’t smiling. His mother was speaking with a doctor by the nurse’s desk, so the ladies slipped in to say a quick hello. Looking miserable, he gave his former teachers a forlorn look then announced, “I hate lime Jello! Who in the world eats this stuff for breakfast? Please ladies, get me out of here!”

  Running to his bedside, Lilly placed her hand on his arm and advised, “Let’s see what your doctor thinks. He’s speaking with your mom right now.”

  Frustrated, he shrugged his arm away and scooted away from Lilly. Sadie saw her friend’s face fall and walked to the other side of his bed. “Zachary, what do you remember of yesterday’s award ceremony?” Throwing his head back in frustration, he admitted he didn’t remember much. “But I do recall that the headache I had when you woke me became a gigantic migraine. The aspirin Mrs. Pierce gave me did nothing to eliminate the pain. I even upchucked before I got dressed for the ceremony. I don’t remember how I got to the Convention Center, but I’m guessing I took the hotel transit.”

  Crossing his arms, Zachary closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Lilly tried again, “Dear boy, why do you want to leave the hospital? It’s obvious you don’t feel well and something is wrong. You’re in the perfect place. Surely the doctors will make you feel better. Has your physician said anything? Did they perform any tests yesterday? Do you know the results?”

  Opening his eyes he answered Lilly with spiteful annoyance. “Yes, Mrs. Pierce. Of course they ordered tests. Geesh, the nurse took vials and vials of blood yesterday saying they had to run a bunch of tests. The doctor even watched me walk!” His words were biting. “The doctor said I had a seizure, but I can’t remember what kind. I guess there are several different types. Anyway, I do recall my body felt really stiff on just one side and mom told the doctor I wasn’t walking right. Thank goodness I didn’t pass out. I’d have peed my pants if that happened and all my FB friends would have had new fodder to spread.”

  Just then the door opened and Zachary’s mom entered with his doctor trailing behind. Mrs. Fry looked exhausted and Sadie smelled alcohol on her breath. This kind of stress can send a recovering alcoholic over the edge, but then, maybe she hasn’t been to an AA meeting in years, reasoned Sadie.

  Lilly shook the doctor’s hand and made the introductions. “Ladies, with Zachary’s permission,” Dr. Redwig began, “I’d like to share what we’ve learned from the physical I performed on our patient and the test results of his blood work.” Sarcastically, Zachary performed an air drum-roll for the doctor.

  My, my! Sadie exclaimed, He’s really not himself! Sadie noted how quickly his personality and physical wellbeing had deteriorated.

  “Seizures are often a symptom of some underlying problem. Right now I have my suspicion, but an MRI is required to confirm it so that will be our next step. After watching Zachary walk yesterday, I’m pretty sure he has a neurological problem.”

  Mrs. Fry burst into tears. She would n
eed Sadie and Lilly by her side if she was going to provide Zachary with the support he required during this trial.

  Looking to Zachary, Sadie was amazed how quickly his behavior had shifted. He’d gone from an agitated state of irritation and annoyance to a state of uncommon peace.

  Placing her hand on his forehead, Lilly asked, “Zachary, did you hear the doctor? They want to give you an MRI.”

  Following her lead, Dr. Redwig asked, “Did you understand what I said, Zachary?”

  He nodded his head but looked confused. “Yes, Doctor M. R. is shy.”

  Zachary was sinking fast and his mental state was just as disconcerting as his physical one. Before leaving the room, Dr. Redwig informed the women that Zachary’s MRI was scheduled for 10am. “I’ll have a better idea on how to proceed after I review the film.”

  Upon the doctor’s exit, the women sat down and readied themselves for a long and tedious time of waiting. Sadie silently offered up a quick prayer. Abba Father, watch over this dear young man and give his doctor wisdom. Amen.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Tire Tracks and Another Arrest

  With all the encouragement she could muster, Dora assured Sadie things would work out. Their phone conversation lasted less than a minute because Sadie said Zachary was leaving for his MRI. Placing her phone back inside her jacket she announced, “O’Cleary, Pointman, it looks like you’re stuck with me today. Sadie’s at the hospital with Zachary Fry, his doctor thinks he has a neurological problem. He’s having an MRI this very moment.”

  “Wow, that’s a huge development in our case,” remarked Mary. “A few days ago Zachary was trimming azaleas and now he’s in the hospital.

  “Seriously Mary, we have other suspects who are more suspicious than that boy,” rebuffed Timothy. “In fact, I want to visit that surveillance guard again and do a quick sweep of his office. Footage of door entrances would have been so helpful in discovering how Ashley Sweetwater got into the Convention Center after hours. I’m thinking he turned the cameras off on purpose and I want to know the why and the person who asked the favor. Somebody owes that guard big time, unless he was repaying a favor himself.”

  An officer walked up to the three detectives and handed O’Cleary a report. Looking it over, a smile suddenly spread across Timothy’s face. “By gum, we actually have a match!” Mary was by his side in an instant. Looking over the computer print out, Timothy eyed Dora and asked, “Do you remember that hit-and-run case involving the son of that magazine editor?”

  “Yep, Stephen Sproutman’s son, Paul. Stephen writes for Digger Magazine.”

  “Well, our tire track imprint led us to several folks with the same car make and model, but only one owner bought new tires within the past six months. Our analysis report implied the tread on the hit and run car was relatively new. So, we ran our stats through local tire dealerships and came up with a Justin Coin. Furthermore, Mr. Coin works for OAN. I think we have a common denominator, Detective Flores!”

  “Bingo! You gonna bring him in? Can I tag along?” Dora sprang from her seat eager to do some police work. “Yep, that’s my plan. I want to question him here at the station. Maybe he knew Ashley Sweetwater. She was Paul’s girlfriend. Let’s put the security guard on hold. We can get to him later on today.”

  Agreeing the arrest of Justin Coin should be their first priority, the three detectives dug up his work place address and drove to his office in record time. “Gee,” Dora threw out to the Portland detectives. “wouldn’t it be something if Justin Coin and Professor Drainer were somehow in cahoots? This case gets more and more interesting by the minute. Let’s hope we catch Mr. Coin off guard so he slips up the way our dear Professor did when we surprised him with that search warrant.”

  ***

  When Justin Coin saw the three detectives enter the main office, he knew exactly why they were there. For a second he contemplated making a quick exit out the back door but then remembered it was locked due to an office renovation. He had nowhere to run or hide. I might as well face the music, so he marched out to face his inevitable arrest.

  This time O’Cleary read the Miranda Rites and Dora readied the handcuffs. Mary drove the gang back to the station telling her partner she wanted to play the bad cop during the interview. Rolling his eyes and flexing his muscles Timothy responded, “Good try muffin cakes. I don’t think so. Not today.”

  “Did you just call me Muffin Cakes, O’Cleary? Really? Muffin cakes? Have you forgotten I’m the one who took down our recent serial rapist.”

  “Nope, I haven’t.”

  “And, well, you know I closed the case on that Portland teacher accused of wife beating.”

  “Uh huh,” O’Cleary acknowledged with a smirk.

  “And, and, I broke that disrespectful punk’s nose when he took a swing at me.”

  “I know! Look Mary, you’re tough. I’m not questioning that at all. You’re a great partner. But interviewing this dude is gonna take some acting and you’re not a good actor. You’re too… nice. Besides, you can’t lie worth beans.”

  “No, I’m not…and yes, I can! I’m a great liar!” sneered Mary.

  Dora walked past the arguing duo and whispered so Timothy couldn’t hear, “No Mary, you’re not. You’re an awful actor and an even worse liar.”

  Mary glared at Dora but walked away from the argument. Yelling over her shoulder Mary spewed, “Tomorrow’s another day, O’Cleary.”

  “Indeed it is, Lassie. Indeed it is.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Red Fingernail

  “Mr. Coin, we have an open hit-and-run case under investigation and your Ford Ranger seems to have tire treads that place it at our crime scene.” O’Cleary sat down next to the accountant in the interrogation room. Mary and Dora were in a back room observing the interview via a live video feed. “Detective, I’m not saying a word until a lawyer gives me counsel,” Justin remonstrated.

  While sitting in the back of the moving police car, Justin decided his best course of action was to remain silent. He knew he was sitting in the middle of a big mess and needed legal counsel. Through the grapevine at work, he’d heard about the murder investigation at the Convention Center. A co-worker confided a female body was found at the Koi pond exhibit, to be precise, in the Koi pond. Ashley Sweetwater’s name was mentioned within gossipy whispers, accusing her of seducing Joseph Wiley. He was a recent newlywed and sat on the OAN Board of Directors. If the police connected all the right dots, they’d figured out she was the person who called in the hit-and-run. If he weren’t careful, he’d be looking at a murder conviction and a hit-and-run felony.

  “Wow, that was quick,” Timothy laughed as he looked directly into the room’s video camera. Mary and Dora both knew the comment was for their benefit. “I guess I’ll chat with you after you’ve lawyered up, Mr. Coin. You’ll remain here until someone moves you to a holding cell. I’ll have an officer bring in a phone so you can make your phone call.”

  Walking into the back room, Timothy shrugged. “I guess we have some time on our hands. Let’s go talk to that surveillance guard over at the Convention Center. I want to find out if he knows Mr. Coin, or Professor Drainer. It’s possible one of the two bribed the guard so he’d switch off the cameras. The Professor could have hidden inside a bathroom after he supposedly left for the night, then waited until Zachary finished up and left for his hotel.”

  “But why kill Ashley at the Convention Center when his home would have been an easier place to do the deed?” queried Mary.

  Dora spoke O’Cleary’s thoughts, “To maintain his innocence and establish an alibi. Zachary reported the Professor left for home before he did. As of now, Zachary Fry is still the last person present at the murder scene.”

  “And Justin Coin? How does he fit into Ashley Sweetwater’s murder investigation?” ventured Dora.

  Scratching his head, O’Cleary attempted to retrieve a memory from his hovering brain fog. “Hmm, did you or Sadie say something about the victim dating Ashley Sweetwater? Wait, I’ve got
it. Paul’s dad thought Ashley, upset that Paul dumped her, was guilty of the hit and run. But the report said she drove a Blue Honda CR-V, not a Ford Ranger. She was also the one to call in the accident report. She must have seen the driver who hit Paul, or at least his vehicle. If Justin was the driver who hit Paul, he may have killed Ashley to keep her quiet. I know it sounds lame, but it’s all I’ve got right now.”

  Both ladies could see his logic, and although it was a stretch, his theory was better than anything they could come up with so, off to the Convention Center they went.

  When the three detectives knocked on the door of the security room housing all the surveillance equipment, they didn’t expect to find the guard reeking of whiskey.

  Coughing into a bent arm, he muttered, “You should keep your distance. I’m fighting off a bad cold. I’ve been drinking really nasty cough medicine for days.”

  Dora glanced at O’Cleary and snickered, “Um, I didn’t know Jack Daniels was a remedy for bad coughs.” Timothy snorted but Mary quickly delivered a vigorous elbow to her partner’s side. Caught off guard, the Irishman let out a yip and clenched his teeth with irritation.

  “Mr. Smith, it’s Smith…right?” Mary emphasized the last name.

  “Yep, plain ol’ Smith. My great-grandfather was a smithy from Poland. I think the folks on Ellis Island switched his last name from Budziszewski to Smith because they couldn’t spell his last name.”

  Having regained his composure, O’Cleary gave Mary an ominous smile then started in with his interview questions. Dora and Mary busied themselves by searching the room for clues. There were eight large screens that frequently switched to other locations picturing shots inside and outside the Convention Center.

  “Mr. Smith, as you know from our earlier conversation, a body was discovered at the Koi Pond exhibit.” The guard bobbed his head up and down. “Unfortunately, the surveillance cameras were not working that night,” Timothy gazed over to the monitors on the wall.