5 A Bad Egg

by Jessica Beck

  Greg smiled at Ellen, and then he said, “If you two will excuse me, I’ll get started on dinner. Ellen, you’re more than welcome to stay and eat with us. I always make too much, anyway.”

  “Thanks, but Mom already fed me,” she said.

  “Then I’ll leave you to it,” he said as he went inside. Greg knew when I needed some privacy, and he always respected it when I was working on a murder case.

  “Now, what’s going on?”

  “I’m worried about everyone around me,” Ellen said, the words tumbling out of her in a rush.

  “Is there anything in particular that’s bothering you?”

  “Mom and Dad are both acting so weird that it’s like I don’t even know them anymore. Add that to Wayne’s posturing around Gordon, and I’m under more stress right now than any one woman should have to endure.”

  “How are the kids holding up?” I asked.

  “They just lost their father, so they’re both upset, but Gordon hasn’t really been all that much a factor in their daily lives for years, so they’re having trouble dealing with it. It’s almost as though it happened to a stranger; do you know what I mean?”

  “Honestly, I don’t have a clue. I’ve never been in that kind of position before.”

  “And you never want to be, either. They’re both strong. They’ll bounce back, once a little time has passed. I just wish that I could say the same thing about myself.”

  “You’re tough, too. Never forget that. It hasn’t been easy what you’ve been doing over the past several years. You’ve held it together better than I ever would have managed.”

  “Victoria, you’re the strongest woman I know. You would have handled things just fine on your own.”

  “I’m not at all sure that’s true, but I appreciate hearing that you believe it. So, tell me a little more about your folks, and Wayne, too. What exactly is going on with them?”

  “Mom and Dad are both tiptoeing around each other, and it’s taken me a while to figure it out, but I think I know why.”

  I had my own suspicions about their behavior, but I decided not to share them and find out what conclusion Ellen had reached on her own.

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “I believe that they each think the other one might have done it,” she said.

  “That’s what I think, too,” I said.

  Ellen looked at me sharply. “You’ve seen it, too?”

  “You know that your mother confessed to killing Gordon already, don’t you?”

  She was shocked by the mere suggestion. “Please tell me that you’re kidding.”

  “I wish I could,” I said as I relayed the details of what had happened to her. “She couldn’t remember how she killed him, though.”

  “He was struck from behind with a pipe,” Ellen said. “You’d think that would be kind of hard to forget, especially if you’re the one who did it.”

  “I’m sure that her confession was motivated by love,” I said. “She was just trying to protect you.”

  “How, by making me look guilty?” Ellen asked. “That’s just like Mom, trying to take every bullet that’s meant for me.”

  “Both of your parents love you,” I said.

  “I know they do. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised that Dad hasn’t confessed, too.”

  “Maybe he was waiting until he found out what really happened to Gordon so he could get his facts straight,” I said with a grin.

  “You could be right,” Ellen said. “Save us from our parents, right?”

  “I don’t know. I think we both got pretty lucky in that respect.”

  “So do I,” Ellen said.

  “Tell me about Wayne,” I suggested.

  She let out a grunt of frustration. “He’s been trying to be macho ever since Gordon first hit him. I think the blow to his pride stung a lot more than the punch. I’m concerned that he might have done something drastic to regain his self-respect. The day Gordon was murdered, I tried to tell Wayne that I didn’t care if he could win a fistfight or not, but I don’t think that he believed me.”

  “You told me earlier that you were with him the afternoon of the murder. Do you remember what time it might have been?” Ellen had some rather large holes in her alibi, significant time that she’d spent alone on the day of the murder.

  “Like I said before, I had Dad pick the kids up,” she admitted. “I’ve been doing that every so often so that Wayne and I could have some time together. I’ve been putting together some nice picnic baskets, and we’ve been stealing a little time together every day.”

  “Ellen, this is very important. When exactly did you see him the day Gordon was murdered?”

  She thought about it for nearly thirty seconds before she answered, and then she said, “We got together about one forty five, and Wayne had to get back to the shop by three fifteen. Normally he’s never gone that long, but I needed him that day, and he was willing to take some extra time off so I could talk things out.”

  “That’s wonderful news,” I said as I reached for my cellphone.

  “Yes, he’s an excellent shoulder to cry on.” She looked at me oddly as I started to dial. “What’s going on? Who are you going to call and tell that to?”

  “I’m phoning the sheriff. This is perfect. It’s going to take you two off his list.”

  “I don’t understand,” Ellen said.

  “They’ve been able to narrow the window for Gordon’s murder since the last time we spoke. He was killed between two and three in the afternoon, and from what you said, you two were together the entire time. There’s just one thing before I call the sheriff and tell him, though. Is there anyone else who can substantiate the fact that you two were together the entire time?”

  Ellen frowned as she thought about it. “We were at the park, so I doubt that anyone could verify it one way or the other. Sorry. I’m not going to be able to do you much good.”

  That was disappointing, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet. “Think hard, Ellen. That park is never empty, especially on a beautiful afternoon like the day of the murder was. Are you telling me that no one can confirm that you were there together?”

  “No one,” she said, and then Ellen frowned. “Hang on a second. That’s not entirely true. There’s one witness who was near us the entire time. Whether she noticed us at all is up for debate, though.”

  “What’s her name?” I asked. This could be the one crucial piece of evidence that would get her off the hook.

  “It was Crazy Betty,” she said. “She was doing crossword puzzles on the bench closest to our picnic blanket the entire time. You know how obsessed she gets over things.”

  I did, indeed. Betty Cliburn, affectionately known as Crazy Betty around town, had a streak of obsessive/compulsive disorder that was just below the level requiring medication. When she narrowed her laser focus to a new hobby or interest, she lived and breathed it with everything that she had. Then one day, without rhyme or reason, she’d drop it cold and never revisit it again. So far, she’d knitted until her fingers bled, read everything written by a dozen different cozy mystery authors, and she was now going through crossword puzzles in a blaze of speed. “It’s how she copes with Cliff’s death,” I said. “Betty has never really learned how to get along without him.”

  “I don’t know if she saw us or not, but we were there, Victoria.”

  “I’m sure the sheriff can track her down and ask her,” I said. “You don’t have any objections about me calling him, do you?”

  “Are you kidding? If you can get me off his list of murder suspects, I’ll sing your praises to the world, and I’d be forever grateful.”

  “Well, save your singing voice, because I haven’t done anything yet,” I said. “Give me one second.”

  I finished dialing the sheriff’s number, and he finally picked up after six rings.

  “Is this a bad time?” I asked him.

  “No, it’s fine. What’s new since the last time we spoke, though? Surely nothing subst
antial has changed in the past half hour.”

  “You’d be surprised. I now have an alibi for Ellen and Wayne, but it’s going to take a little legwork on your part to confirm.”

  “That’s what we’re good at,” the sheriff said. “You know me. I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”

  “Okay, here goes. Ellen and Wayne snuck away to the park from one forty-five to three fifteen on the afternoon of the murder to have some time together. Ellen needed a shoulder to cry on, and Wayne was more than happy to supply it.”

  “That’s all well and good, but unless someone else saw them there together, it’s not going to do any of us much good.”

  “That’s the thing. Betty Cliburn was on a park bench nearby doing her crossword puzzles. Ellen swears that the woman was there the entire time,” I explained.

  “She might have been sharing their blanket, but that doesn’t mean that Betty saw them. You know how she gets when she’s working on something.”

  “You’re still going to ask her, though, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Of course I will. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

  “Sorry, but it’s a bit too late for that.”

  “I’ll talk to her right now. Do you have anything else for me?”

  I thought about conveying what Ellen had told me about her parents, but I really didn’t have anything to share on that front yet. “Hey, you said it yourself. We haven’t been apart all that long.”

  “You can’t blame me for asking,” he replied.

  “Would you do me a favor?” I asked him while I still had him on the line.

  “Maybe,” he answered cagily. I knew the sheriff was too savvy to make a blanket promise without hearing what it was first.

  “Don’t worry. This is an easy one. I’d just appreciate a telephone call after you talk to Betty, one way or the other. It would be nice to know if Ellen and Wayne are off your list.”

  “I can do that,” the sheriff said. “It might be late, though. If I can’t find her tonight, I might have to ask her in the morning.”

  “Just as long as you let me know what’s going on, we’re good.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. And Victoria?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, but it was to a dead phone.

  The sheriff had already hung up.

  “What did he say?” Ellen asked me.

  “He’s going to talk to Betty, and then he’ll touch base with me. It might be tomorrow, though, so we need to be patient.”

  “I can wait as long as I need to,” she said. “I just hope that she saw us there. It would simplify so many things if she did.”

  “I hope so, too. Ellen, are you sure that you don’t want to come in for a bite, and some company? You know that Greg wouldn’t mind.”

  “No, I’d better be going,” she said as she stood. “I’ve stayed away from my family as long as I dare. They need me right now.”

  “Give them my love, would you?”

  “I will, and thanks for that from me,” she said.

  “You’re very welcome,” I answered sincerely.

  After Ellen was gone, I thought about the most recent developments with the case. Ellen and Wayne might be off the hook if Betty confirmed their alibi, but her parents were still active members of my suspect list, and what she’d told me hadn’t eased my mind, either.

  Chapter 15

  “You’re not going in there,” I heard a voice say threateningly as Sam Jackson stepped out of the shadows and tried to keep me from going into The Charming Moose the next morning.

  “It’s going to take more than you to stop me,” I said as I started to push past him. It was just before six a.m., and there wasn’t much traffic out. To most folks driving past the diner, it probably looked as though Sam and I were just having ourselves a nice little chat.

  They would have been mistaken.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Sam said. “Listen, we can do this the hard way, or we can do it easy. In the end, it makes no difference to me.”

  “I’m not going to make killing me easy for you,” I said harshly. “If you want my life, you’re going to have to fight for it.”

  “Kill you? Where did you get that idea?” Jackson asked me, clearly surprised by my reaction.

  “You ambush me at my diner in the early hours when no one else is around and you threaten me,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I think that you meant me harm? I’m just telling you that if that’s your goal, I’m not about to make it easy for you.”

  “I want to talk. That’s it, Victoria. Just talk.”

  “Then wait one minute for me to get set up inside and then come on in,” I said as I pushed past him. I had my keys out and the door unlocked before he could process the new information. I thought about slamming it shut behind me and locking him on the outside, but what if he was telling the truth? I had a suspect who was willing to discuss Gordon Murphy’s murder with me. Talking was what I did best. After I overcame my impulse to protect my mother and myself, I walked in back and smiled at Mom.

  “You got here early,” I said as I hung my jacket up.

  “Your husband isn’t the only one in the family who likes to play with recipes,” she said. “I thought that I’d have a little fun.”

  I took a deep breath, and as I did, I smelled something divine baking. “Is that cornbread?”

  “Jalapeno cheddar cornbread, to be exact,” she said. “I’m not sure how it’s going to taste, but it smells magnificent, doesn’t it?”

  “I’d love to try some,” I said.

  Mom looked at the timer. “Four more minutes, and then I’ll join you. It’s not too early in the day for spicy cornbread, is it?”

  “Is it ever too early for something delicious?” I asked.

  “You’ve got a point there.”

  I heard the front door open, so I told Mom, “I need to go back out front.”

  “Go, take care of them. Don’t worry; I’ll save you a piece.”

  “At least one,” I said with a smile.

  I walked back out front, and I found that Sam Jackson had already taken a seat at the bar. “Listen, I’m sorry about that,” he said, sounding a little embarrassed as he spoke. “I get used to dealing with a certain type, and sometimes I forget how to treat civilians.”

  “Are you at war?” I asked him.

  “Sometimes it feels that way. Victoria, I’m not going to pretend that I’ll miss Gordon Murphy, but that doesn’t mean that I killed him.”

  “It doesn’t mean that you didn’t, either,” I said.

  Jackson just shook his head. “When did you get to be such a hard-nose?” he asked. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

  “I’ve investigated murder before,” I said. “It takes something out of you, and it leaves something else behind.”

  “I can see that,” he said. “Listen. I need you to stop sniffing around my life. It’s not good for business.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that can’t be helped,” I said. “Until and unless I get a usable alibi from you, you have to stay on my list of suspects. You and the victim had a history of bad blood between you, and what’s more, you’ve never tried to deny it. The only way you’re going to convince me that you had nothing to do with Gordon’s murder is to provide me and the police with a solid alibi.”

  “What if I told you I was doing something somewhere else at the time of the murder?” he asked me pointedly. “Would that get you off my back?”

  “It would be a start. Where were you?”

  “That’s where it gets a little sticky,” Jackson said with a sigh. “I was doing something I’d just as soon the police not know I was involved in. If I tell you, you’re going to go to them with it, aren’t you?”

  “I might be able to make an exception,” I said. “But I would have to have solid proof.”

  “I understand that. But listen, I need your w
ord that you’re not going to go to Sheriff Croft with this. It could be bad for me if you did, and I wouldn’t like that.” The threat in his voice was again very real, and I felt myself shiver a little at the thought of Sam Jackson’s possible retribution.

  “There’s no need for you to say anything else,” I said.

  “Because you don’t believe me?” he asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Your willingness to incriminate yourself even to me is enough to convince me that you’re most likely telling the truth.”

  “But you aren’t persuaded, are you?”

  “Think about it. Let’s say that an associate of yours calls me and tells me that you were in Hickory robbing a bank when Gordon was being murdered. How can I believe that he’s telling me the truth, and not just following your orders?”

  “Well, in the first place, I don’t rob banks,” Jackson said. “It’s too dangerous, and there are better ways to get a payday than sticking a gun under somebody’s nose.”

  That was good to know, but my point was still valid. “It was just an example. What I’m saying is that anyone who vouches for you is by definition suspicious in my mind. I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do. I won’t actively pursue any lead regarding you unless I have more reason than I do right now to believe that you might have had something to do with Gordon Murphy’s murder.”

  “That’s the best that I’m going to get out of you, isn’t it?” he asked after showing me a brief frown.

  “Sorry, but it is.”

  “Then I can live with it, for now,” he said. “If you want my opinion, I know a guy you should be looking at for this murder.”

  I expected him to say Wayne’s name, so I was quite surprised when he mentioned Mitchell Cobb. “The man’s obsessed with your waitress. That’s all he can talk about every single time I see him. I’ll tell you something. We’ve been friends for a long time, and Ellen’s the only woman that he’s ever talked about. If you ask me, he’s the one who needs the attention of the police, not me.” Was Jackson giving me a real clue that Mitchell might be involved, or was he simply feeding me his friend’s name to divert suspicion away from himself? I wasn’t sure, but it was something that I was determined to find out.