Herbie and Just Juice were older than some other students, probably on the so-called five-year plan to prolong college. Maybe they funded their constant meals at the diner by selling something at the laundromat. It didn’t have to be drugs, it could be exam questions or cigarettes they obtained cheaply.
She called Squeaky at the dry cleaner’s. “Mr. Miller. You doing better today?”
Squeaky’s sigh came through the phone. “I suppose. Feel bad Louella Belle got killed in my business. Maybe if I never opened it she'd be alive.”
There it was again. Someone felt bad, but had nothing effusive, or even nice, to say about her. “We haven’t come up with much, so I thought I’d see if you had any more thoughts about whether her death could relate to the laundromat, or if she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I didn’t even know she went in there. She had a house not too far from the college.”
“Right. How about any funny business not connected with Louella Belle. Any noise complaints, any machines damaged?”
“No." Squeaky paused for a couple of seconds. "But now you mention it, I wondered a couple times if someone was trying to get into the change machine. I’m not as careful as I could be with change and stuff.”
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked.
“Well, a couple times the bills that came in didn’t seem to jive with the change that went out.” He paused. “Or maybe it was the other way around.”
Elizabeth felt like asking him if he'd already had a couple of beers. “So maybe someone took out some bills that had been inserted for change?”
“Might could be. I’m not sure.”
“You mind if we look at the bill changer?”
“Sure. Stop by for the key.”
She smiled slightly to herself, envisioning the rectangular machine that hung on the wall. It had to be bolted on well, if it held a lot of quarters. “Just the outside. I’ll have a look at the lock and maybe see if there are some scratches near it.”
“Huh. Good idea. Hey, um, I don’t mean no disrespect, but when can I reopen the laundry?”
“We’re pretty much done. I'll have the guys take down the crime scene tape in about an hour.”
Squeaky said a doleful goodbye.
Elizabeth buzzed Hammer. “We have a key to Squeaky’s laundromat, right?”
“Yep, in the small safe in the locker room.”
“Squeaky doesn’t know about any funny business, but he wonders if the change that went out of the bill changer is the same as the money that went in.”
Hammer grunted. “Squeaky’s not so good at math after noon.”
“So I hear. You, or one of the others, have a look at the machine. He’s willing to give us the key, but I’d like your opinion on whether the lock looks like it’s been tampered with.”
“Sure, chief. Me or Calderone, maybe Mahan, we’ll check it out.”
She relayed what Herbie and Just Juice had told her about timing and who else they saw in the laundromat at times. “I’d rather not sound out Finn Clancy about his sleeping habits. Why don't you talk to Squeaky about it, and then Clancy.”
“Jeez Louise.” Hammer chuckled. “Can we make Grayson talk to him?”
“Why Grayson?” Elizabeth asked.
"It’ll wake him up if he has to find Finn Clancy under a blanket.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
WEDNESDAY MORNING, ELIZABETH decided to first tackle Blake Wessley, former president of the college fraternity. Shenanigans at the one Greek house on campus had led the college to shutter it. He'd lost his campus residence and, from Wessley's perspective, probably a lot of stature.
Elizabeth herself had asked the college’s president not to expel the students. She didn’t condone their actions, but eighteen-to-twenty-year olds could be stupid in groups. Expulsion could ruin lives.
She had suggested that President Dodd require them to maintain a certain grade point and perform community service in town, or tutoring on campus. Though she figured several of the regular beer imbibers would need the extra instruction rather than be able give it.
Dodd let them stay, but took away any scholarships. Elizabeth did not accept his offer to have some frat brothers volunteer at the police station.
Hammer told her Blake Wessley was to be at Dollar General at one-thirty that afternoon, and Elizabeth asked the manager if she could stop by to see if he could help in the investigation.
“You won’t have sirens or anything, will you?”
Elizabeth smiled into the phone. Matt Howard was perpetually nervous. As he walked through the store, he straightened any shelf he passed. “No, and if Mr. Wessley is with a customer I won’t interrupt. I just have a couple questions about what he saw in the laundromat the other day.”
“Ah, yes. Poor Louella Belle,” Howard said.
“Did you know her well, or see her that afternoon?”
“No on both counts. In fact, I had to ask her not to talk to other customers last Halloween season. She harassed people buying bags of candy. Told one woman she knew the candy wasn’t for trick or treaters. You can imagine how irritated customers were.”
Elizabeth held in a laugh. “Food police are never popular.”
She had just hung up her phone when Hammer poked his head into her office. "Taylor called. Said that assistant principal told him she doesn't have time to talk to him before Christmas."
Elizabeth raised her hands in a 'what-are-we-going-to-do' gesture. "Well, I guess she told us. We can just rearrange our murder investigation."
Hammer laughed. "Milder than I thought you'd be."
"Call her back. Tell her I'm interviewing her personally. We can do it at her house or here at the station. I can have someone pick her up. Ten-thirty works for me, but if she can't do it then, let her pick the time."
Elizabeth pulled out her notebook and jotted a couple questions for Maxwell on the last page.
Hammer walked back in less than a minute. "That Maxwell woman doesn't want to meet you here."
"Sheesh. Does she want me to come to her place?"
Hammer's look conveyed annoyance. "I suggested the Bully Pulpit, but she said she doesn't go there. She said Doris Minx's bakery would be an appropriate location."
"Still ten-thirty?"
"She didn't say different." Hammer turned to go back to the bullpen.
A glance at her office clock told Elizabeth it was only nine-forty-five. She grabbed another cup of coffee from the break room and returned to her desk to go over last night's incident reports.
Two unlocked cars had been relieved of the small amounts of money in their glove boxes and change holders, and an elderly man had skidded into the fire hydrant in front of the library. "Bummer," she said aloud.
She stopped casual reading at the next report. Two bicycles had been stolen, one from a house not far from the college, another in her own neighborhood. Both men's bikes, one quite new. Aside from brief descriptions of the bikes and the times their owners noticed they had disappeared -- about ten PM, when they were locking their garages -- the reports had few details.
She buzzed Hammer. "Any more on the two new bicycle thefts?"
"No. Different parts of town. But I'm sure you noticed that."
"Other than Finn Cassidy's bike and one other being stolen two nights ago, how often would you say bikes get stolen?"
Hammer didn't hesitate. "Around town, just a few times a year, always in summer."
"What do you make of it?"
Elizabeth could envision his typical shrug. "Too cold to ride around on one. Or too slippery, anyway."
"You think a killer is trying to confuse us?"
"Probably," Hammer said. "That's what I'd do."
She smiled. "Remind me to check your behavior next time you go off somewhere." She hung up. After she talked to Assistant Principal Avery, she'd drive by the two locations to see if anything about the homes or locales seemed to tie them together.
She finished her coffee in two
gulps and moved to her file cabinet, where she placed her gun when she was in the office. She removed the Glock and holstered it under her heavy jacket. She doubted that Doris would appreciate having someone interviewed in her bakery-coffee shop combo. She'd keep her gun out of sight.
AVERY MAXWELL HAD ARRIVED at Doris Minx's coffee shop before Elizabeth. She wore an expensive-looking ski jacket with what seemed to be real fur rimming the hood. She sat so straight against the small chair's curly-Q back that just seeing her made Elizabeth's spine ache.
Doris called from behind the glass-enclosed bakery counter. "Black, Elizabeth?"
"How about hot tea? I've had too much coffee already."
"Sure thing." Doris walked to the far side of the counter and busied herself with a mug.
Elizabeth took a chair opposite Avery Maxwell. "Thanks for meeting me."
Her strident tone matched her posture. "This is very inconvenient, Chief Friedman. It's three days before…"
"Murder is inconvenient, too, Mrs. Maxwell. I'd love to have someone behind bars before Christmas."
Maxwell stared at her. "Very well. I can't imagine I know anything that will help you."
Elizabeth put her notebook on the table. "Let's find out. When was the last time you, personally, saw Louella Belle Simpson?"
Maxwell tossed her perfectly styled blonde hair. "I saw her from a distance in the grocery store a few days ago. I doubt she saw me, or she would have harassed me."
"Had you already seen that flyer with the photo of your children?"
Maxwell flushed. "I can assure you not. Do you have any idea what that did to my children's self-esteem?"
"It was a terrible thing to do. If she were alive, I'd pull her into the station for a serious conversation."
Maxwell's tight expression loosened somewhat. "We spoke to a lawyer, but then…well, he says it doesn't matter now."
Elizabeth decided to become Avery Maxwell's friend, at least for a minute. "Perhaps not legally, but I'm sorry your kids were embarrassed."
"Thank you."
"When was the last time you spoke to Louella Belle? Did she give you any indication she didn't like aspects of, I'm not sure what to call it, your family's nutrition decisions?"
Doris Minx brought Elizabeth's hot tea and a cup of ice water for Maxwell. "I know you said you didn't want anything, but I hated to see the chief drink alone."
Elizabeth smiled. "Thanks, Doris."
Maxwell simply nodded.
Doris' usually friendly expression darkened for a moment, and she turned toward her counter and walked away.
"Mrs. Maxwell?" Elizabeth said.
"She used to come into the building every couple of weeks and visit with the kitchen staff. She saw herself as some sort of Heloise of the kitchen, and dispensed a lot of unwanted advice."
Elizabeth shook her head slightly. "I've been the recipient of her ideas."
"Then you know how annoying she could be. Because she was a school system retiree and helped at that summer lunch program for children, we let her in with no appointment. But a couple of times Principal Henry told her not to wander the halls."
"I'm a little surprised. Aren't your doors locked these days?"
Maxwell nodded. "Yes. Frankly, letting her in was easier than having her throw one of her tantrums." When Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, she added, "Believe it or not, some of the kids liked her. I guess because of the summer lunch. And the last couple of years she brought seed packets to give to the fifth grade. In the spring."
"Seed packets?"
"Yes. For beans, I think. Organic. She was big on that, you know."
Elizabeth jotted a couple of lines in her notebook. "The more we know about her behavior the better. So, you last talked to her at the middle school?"
"But just for a second. She tried to corral me, maybe three weeks ago. Our secretary explained I was leaving for a meeting with the school board budget committee. Louella Belle tried to follow me to my car, but I told her I was too busy to talk."
"Do you know what she wanted?"
Maxwell shook her head, frowning. "No, but I wonder if she put the children's picture on that flyer to get back at me."
"A mean thing to do," Elizabeth said. "You didn't personally talk to her after you saw the flyer?"
She shook her head emphatically. "If I had been in the same room with her I would have tried to strangle her. I called our lawyer."
Elizabeth smiled. "You'll be happy to know she wasn't strangled."
Maxwell flushed and lowered her chin slightly.
"You probably know she died in the late afternoon on Monday Where were you about that time?"
Maxwell's chin came up sharply and she glared at Elizabeth. "How dare you accuse me of…"
Elizabeth moved her hand, palm flat, in a downward motion. "I'm asking a question."
"But why would you even ask?"
"Because while you would be a very unlikely suspect, you have very good reason to be furious with her for a very personal reason."
Maxwell took a sip of her water. "Monday was the last day of class before the holiday. The building quiets when the children leave the building. A couple of teachers stopped by to say Merry Christmas, one to talk about a child she thought might not be getting enough food at home."
Elizabeth wondered what the school did in a case like that, but instead she asked, "And I won't trouble these teachers unless I have a reason to later, but I would like their names."
"Annette Chesney, fourth grade, and Dick Plummer, second."
"And if I may ask, how do you figure out if a family has food? Call Social Services?"
She shook her head. "We want families to trust us, and there's a stigma to involving Social Services. The food pantry gives us vouchers, extras this time of year. It lets families who haven't gone there know they can."
"How do you get the voucher to them?"
"Depends on what we know about the family situation. It would take a few minutes to outline the options."
"Right." Elizabeth closed her notebook. "Can you think of anyone as angry, or more so, with Louella Belle than you?"
Maxwell smiled for the first time. "How long do you have?"
CHAPTER NINE
DESPITE THE ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL’S hint of potential suspects, the situations she described were similar to others Elizabeth had heard. Louella Belle tried to shame someone about their shape or implied a person would be better off if they just took her advice. Nothing that said “check here for a murder suspect.”
Back at the station, Elizabeth called Skelly to see if he wanted to grab lunch in the diner. He promised to wash his hands well before joining her.
She smiled as she hung up. He had not come to town expecting to run for coroner, but thought the prior doctor who served as ME and coroner looked for easy reasons for causes of death.
Now he held the hospital appointment and elected position. Though most deaths he certified weren’t crimes, the work kept him busy enough that he hadn’t grown his internal medicine practice as much as he had planned.
Elizabeth deliberately arrived at the diner a few minutes before twelve, figuring someone might approach her about the murder. The weather had turned colder and the forecast was for freezing rain or sleet before the onslaught turned to snow. That seemed to have kept the diner’s lunch crowd low.
Two booths down from Elizabeth sat two younger men she didn’t know. Several booths in the other direction was Alice, the bookstore owner, who sat with Doris Minx. Alice waved without much apparent interest, and Doris turned to give Elizabeth a wide smile and wave before turning back to her lunch.
Nick negotiated around the five-foot Christmas tree that sat a few feet in front of the cash register as he deftly managed a large tray with three burger orders. He and Marti traded cooking duties. Neither of them especially liked to wait tables. A few customers might say neither was a standout cook, but overall Elizabeth thought the menu was better since they took over.
After he serv
ed the burgers Nick stopped at Elizabeth’s booth. “Any news, Chief?”
She shook her head. “Not much. Still not sure who was last to see Louella Belle alive. You hear anything?”
“Nope. Funny how people aren’t talking much about it. When Ben died, everyone said how sorry they were.”
That made sense. The diner’s prior owner might not have been Mr. Personality, but he was reasonably well liked. “Would you remember if Luella Belle often came in with a friend, or sat with the same people regularly?”
“Nope. I mean, I remember. No one sat with her. Can I get you something?”
“How about some decaf? I’ll order when Skelly gets here.”
As Nick turned toward the kitchen, Mayor Humphrey came in, shedding a huge red and green headscarf as she did so. She made for Elizabeth’s booth, but correctly interpreted Elizabeth’s lack of a smile as an indication that she was waiting for someone.
Humphrey paused at the booth. “I’m sure you would call me if you knew anything.”
Elizabeth nodded. “We’re making all the rounds.”
The mayor leaned over. “I hear Jerry Pew is running a story with a list of suspects.”
Elizabeth frowned. “That seems impossible, since I don’t have any.”
“Well now, maybe I didn’t hear him right.” She hesitated. “But I think I did.”
“Did Jerry give you any names?”
Humphrey shook her head. “No. Again, maybe it’s my ears, but I thought he implied he got information from you.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows went up. “I’ll have to go over my conversation with him.”
“Oh, dear, don’t say I told you what he said.”
“No worries, Madam Mayor. I think it’s just Jerry trying to pump you for information.”
Humphrey shook her tightly permed head. “I should know better than to listen to him.”
The diner door opened and a blast of air colder than it had been twenty minutes ago blew in with Skelly. He waved to Elizabeth and the mayor.
In a lower tone, Humphrey leaned closer to Elizabeth. “So, have a nice lunch.” She waved at Skelly as she moved toward a booth at the far side of the diner.
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