"I still have a terrible headache, but I'll be fine. I just need to rest. What were they after? What could I possibly have that they want?"
That was one thing Sheski didn't know, but was determined to find out. He had a hunch, but needed to see some more people first.
"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Now, you get some rest and I'll find some help to clean this up when the police are through here"
"Thanks, Tommy."
His own name was the last thing he heard from her lips as she drifted off to a much-needed sleep. He kissed her damp forehead and went out to hear the details from Andy.
"I want two men guarding her place, round the clock," Sheski said to a trooper. "One inside, one outside. If she complains, tell her to talk to me" The trooper nodded.
TUESDAY, 9 A.M.
Bobby Snyder had company, and they were busy with paperwork at his office on Mill Street when Sheski and Mike arrived. As usual, Bobby was engrossed in business, hard at work on some bids for more property that had recently come up for sale. It had been a buyer's market for a while and he was taking advantage of it.
When they entered, Bobby recognized them as cops and bid a hasty good-bye to his real estate agent, promising to call him later. The agent gave Bobby a questioning look as he went out the front door. Bobby shrugged his shoulders in return.
The lieutenants flashed their badges and told Bobby that they wanted a few minutes of his time.
He extended his hand and encouraged them to take a seat. What the hell do they want? he wondered.
Sheski wasted no time in asking him where he was at the time of Rose's murder. They were already informed of the downtown development deal and how the restoration of the storefronts would have devastated him financially if Rose had lived to have her way. Unless he has some pretty good answers, Sheski thought, Bobby's not off the long list of suspects.
"I was here at my office, going over some accounts. The Restoration Committee meeting was that night and I wanted to be prepared for Rose's barrage. She was always trying to throw her weight around to accomplish what she thought this town needed. Hey, I have nothing to hide," he said, flinging a pencil that he had been holding onto his desk.
"I was so sick of her finding ways of spending someone else's money. I worked damn hard for mine. Nobody handed me anything for free. Rose had hers given to her. Never did any real work in her whole life. She kept promising that if we agreed to restore the main street, building fronts, sidewalks, light fixtures, stuff like that, she would help us gain some funding. You know, grants and donations, that kind of thing." He ran thin fingers through his light brown hair.
"Many of the committee members disagreed with Rose," Bobby went on. "But they were afraid to go against her. She had a lot of power in this town. Rose had money in her own right and wasn't afraid to use it. Her husband had his own bucks, too. This is a small town. People here are highly influenced by that. She could just about get her way on anything she wanted. It would have ruined me. I own more than half of this side of Mill Street. No way could I afford to comply with what she wanted to push through. It would have wiped me out."
"So, with Rose out of the way, I guess you won't have to worry about that now, will you?" Sheski suggested.
"I know there are people who are gossiping and pointing the finger at me. Well, I didn't do it," he retorted. "I may be coarse and from the other side of the tracks, but I'm no killer. Besides, what about Barry Brown? That lunatic could have done it. He was goofy enough"
"Then you haven't heard? Barry turned up in Mahoning Creek yesterday afternoon ... dead. And it wasn't suicide. The coroner thinks he was murdered about the same time as Rose Stone. He's off our list of suspects."
Bobby's eyebrows went up and an "Ohhhhhhh" escaped from surprised lips.
"Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts at the time of both murders?" Sheski asked.
"My secretary was with me that day until two P.M. She'll tell you. Then she had to leave to pick her son up from the babysitter. I stayed around just like I said until it was time to go to the meeting. No one there knew anything about Rose's murder. And I heard about it the next day on the news. We just figured something came up so she couldn't make it. I have to admit, most of us were glad when she didn't show."
Bobby told all this in a whiny, complaining voice. The voice of one who was familiar with getting blamed for things he didn't do.
"How long have you known Dr. Stone, Bobby?" Sheski inquired. He thought there might be a story in that shared Vietnam experience that the town police had mentioned. It was a hunch that unleashed a flood of venom.
"That bastard," Bobby said angrily. "I've known him since a bunch of us from town got sent to 'Nam."
He fumbled with some documents on his desk and then faced his inquisitors squarely.
"I served in the Army with John Deadly, Lesley Stone, Gordon Ashman, and Richard Burns. What a crew. At first there was a lot of camaraderie, you know, being from town and all. We were at a base camp north of Saigon and missed our hometown, our families, and our girlfriends. Our division was serving as a buffer between Saigon and the enemy's base areas in Tay Ninh Province. We were all in the same hell, rich and poor alike.
"After we got settled in, though, it began to change," he went on. "Things began to get a little tense. Every Friday night was poker night. There were games all over the area. Ours was always the best, though," he bragged. "We had the best players. Players with plenty of money, and the biggest pots. Out of our bunch, Ashman was the only one who didn't join in. Didn't believe in gambling, he told us. I respected him for that," he said in a softer tone. "Ashman was a good man with high standards, and he always treated me all right." Bobby paced the floor a little, looking out the front window once or twice, and then went on.
"Many a grunt made big money in 'Nam playing cards. Most of them sent it home to their families. I personally made over twenty grand at the poker table the first year alone. I wired it home to Julie, my wife, and told her to start buying property with it. She began to buy up Mill Street. She put the winnings down on buildings and then made monthly payments by renting them out and using her own earnings as a teacher. Properties were a lot cheaper then. Anyway, I may have been poor, but I was good at poker. Stone was not" He laughed a little at that. "And he was tight, too," Bobby went on. "He hated losing. I've met a lot of people from all walks of life, and I never met anyone that hated to lose money like Stone. He bet big and lost big. And he begrudged every dime."
Sheski and Mike were entranced. Bobby was spilling his guts and the lieutenants were convinced he was telling the truth.
Bobby got out of his chair, bristling at the memories. He walked around his desk, gesturing as he spoke.
"It was bad enough we had to watch our backs because of the enemy. The Viet Cong had tunnels under us that made our lives even more miserable than they already were. We never did clean them out of there. It then got so we had to watch some of our friends, too. Stone and Deadly started to get real tight. Deadly became his flunkey. He did anything that Stone wanted. They spent a lot of time with their heads together, hatching schemes"
At this point Bobby looked puzzled. "For some reason, the MPs were watching Deadly day and night. I don't know what that was all about, but everyone knew something big was going on. A couple of times, he got beat up by some of the locals. They usually didn't bother us, but they sure hated Deadly. He musta ticked them off real bad. One time, four of them ganged up on him at the edge of the camp and damn near killed him. It took that many to get the best of him. He's a tough one. If the MPs hadn't stepped in, he woulda been listed MIA"
"What about Lesley Stone?" Mike asked.
"Stone always had money," Bobby replied. "And it was the most important thing to him. You know, his family had plenty, so it's not like he needed more. But he wanted it. To Stone, money was right up there above duty, honor, and country. He and Deadly had all kinds of sidelines to bring in cash. Most of it was typical GI stuff--
booze, loans, cigarettes, supplies. And some of that loot went to pay gambling losses. You'd think a guy that worshipped money like he did would avoid a pastime that he regularly lost at. Not Stone. I think he believed he'd eventually win it all back. Once in awhile he did win a little, but most of the time he didn't. Everyone was better at poker than he was" He snickered.
Bobby again paced to the window and then turned back to his guests.
"Stone's anger over his losses came to a head the last month I was stationed there. It was Friday night and we were playing our usual game in the recreation tent. This game was really big, our biggest. On the final hand, the pot held more than five grand. The last three holding cards were Burns, Stone, and me. Burns folded. That left Stone and me. The tent was full, and the word got out that there was a huge pot at stake. Guys were crowding in, standing room only, to see how it would all come out. It was hot and smoky in there, and we were all drinking and starting to get tired. Stone and I were taking our time, though. He wanted that pot so bad his eyes were glazed over with greed. I wanted it, too. You see, the wife had written to tell me about a four-story building, a former hotel, that had just gone on the market here. I wanted that building. It would have fit in quite nicely with the rest of our properties. Winning the hand would have meant that she could go ahead and buy it."
"Stone and I were studying each other closely. He was cool as could be. You see, he was holding good cards, real good cards. I figured he must have gotten lucky and had something or he would have folded earlier. You could never be sure with him, though. How a guy so book-smart could be so crummy at poker is beyond me. As for me, I was sweating buckets. I had good cards, too. But I knew that with the hand I had, something was bound to happen. The sweat was rolling down my face and the moment so powerful that I never made a move to stop it. For the first time in my poker career, I was carrying a Dead Man's Hand"
"Aces and eights," Mike said knowingly.
"Yep. I'm not usually a superstitious man, but when it comes to cards, I don't tempt fate. I finally called him, and the cards went down. For as big as the crowd was, you could have heard a pin drop that night. Stone had three tens and some face cards. My heart was in my throat as I slowly lay down the three aces and two black eights. Guys started muttering things like "Holy shit" and "Look out" when those cards hit the wood. You see, they knew the cards ... and they knew Stone. They figured he wasn't going to take the loss well. He had a lot of money on that table and I just took it away from him. The look on his face was one I will never forget. It was evil, pure evil. Stone never said a word. He looked at Deadly and then he looked back at me. I didn't like what I was seeing. The other guys backed away, leaving a path for him to get through as he sullenly made his way out the door. Before he left, he looked back at me again, one last time, that foul look on his face"
"I was tired and staggered back to my tent. I counted my winnings and came up with more than fivethousand-two-hundred dollars. That was a lot of money back then, and the biggest haul I ever made at poker. And I've played a lot of cards. Naturally, I was overjoyed about the win, but I was concerned about where to keep all that until I could send it home. I couldn't believe my good fortune. I was gonna own the lynchpin in my row of properties on Mill Street. Life was good. I was really tired and could barely keep my eyes open, so I found what I thought was the best place to put it. Ever since I joined the Army, I carried with me, for luck, an old calfskin Civil War haversack. Gordon Ashman gave it to me for good luck when he heard we were gonna serve together in 'Nam. He said it was used for holding ammo by a Yankee who survived Gettysburg. Anyway, I decided to put my winnings in my lucky haversack and put that under my pillow for safekeeping. The night was hot, humid, and quiet. Charlie was staying underground and we were dug in for the long haul. I don't remember falling asleep, it happened so quickly. Slept in my uniform, I guess. I don't recall anything else until the next morning when I woke up in the hospital tent with a banger of a headache. Seems that when I didn't show for breakfast, a couple of my buddies went looking for me. What they found was my ransacked tent. My belongings were strewn all over the place, and I was out cold. When they couldn't rouse me, they called the medics and I was taken for some emergency treatment. The docs figured I had a drunk on and were angry and saying I was wasting their time. I kept telling them I didn't have that much to drink. I never drink much when I'm playing cards. It ruins my game."
He paused a minute and then said, "I think someone slipped something into my drink right before I went back to my tent. Eventually, I came around but had nothing but the headache to show for my night. I searched under my pillow and my haversack with my winnings was gone! I can't prove it, but I know Stone and his stooge Deadly had something to do with it. The MPs wouldn't do anything. Said I couldn't even prove I had that kind of money on me at the time. The few witnesses they spoke to claimed I was drunk and could barely walk when they saw me heading back to my tent. The day after the game, Stone and Deadly acted as if nothing happened. But they were a hell of a lot happier than they had been the night before"
Bobby sat on his desk and thoughtfully fingered an autographed baseball resting on a plastic stand. "Greatest hitter to ever live," he said, looking at the inscription. "He never gave up. Practiced all the time. That's what made him so great. He was a veteran, too" He looked at Ted Williams' signature and placed the ball back on its perch. Bobby then looked up at the two policemen.
"I've never forgotten what those two did over there. Remembered it all whenever I had any dealings with them back home here. Stone went on to med school, married a wealthy young lady, and opened Stone Haven. Deadly went to work for him from day one. It's been a successful venture for Stone. There's a lot of money in providing psychiatric care for rich crazy people. Not that he needed it," he said as an aside.
"By then," Bobby went on, "Stone was sole heir to the family fortune. But again, he never had enough. If his brother had lived much longer, though, there may not have been much left, the way that maniac was spending it. That would have served Stone right after what he did to me"
Bobby had been slowly pacing about his office, reliving past events for the policemen. When he finished, he looked drained.
Sheski and Mike had listened without interruption. It provided some insight into what they were dealing with at Stone Haven, but Bobby wouldn't be off the list of suspects until he provided an alibi. After all, maybe he sought to get back at Stone by killing his wife and stealing her jewelry. That would pay him back for what he lost in 'Nam, with some left over. The diamond she was wearing was worth a lot and hasn't been found yet. Maybe Bobby had stashed it away for a future oppor tunity. By murdering Rose, he would kill two birds with one stone, no pun intended. She would be off his back about the downtown restoration and Lesley Stone would have gotten what he had coming to him. You're not off the hook yet, Bobby, thought Sheski.
"We've got another appointment soon," Mike reminded his partner.
"Right. Thanks, Bobby, for your candor and your time," Sheski offered sincerely. "If you think of anything else that may be of help to us, or if there's anything else you want to tell us, give us a call"
The two investigators stood on the granite front stoop of Bobby Snyder's office, watching traffic on downtown Mill Street. It was at a stop now, because a train was thundering through the main thoroughfare, bisecting the town at forty miles per hour. They were glad for the interruption; they had wanted a few minutes to digest everything they had just heard.
"He has more than one motive," said Mike, looking over at his partner.
"But he didn't have to tell us the 'Nam story," Sheski countered. "He wanted to make the point of what a money-grubber that Stone is. So much so that Stone didn't mind doing a fellow soldier out of more than five grand."
He watched the last boxcar fly past just ten feet from idling vehicles.
"And what's the connection between Stone and Deadly?"
"Birds of a feather." Mike said. "From what I see, both of them
have sociopathic personalities. And those kind often seek out others just like themselves to associate with."
"Maybe. But there has to be more to it than that. These two come from the opposite sides of the track. Dr. Stone is polished and articulate. Deadly is crude and callous. They seemingly have nothing in common. I wonder what happened in 'Nam to make those two really tight."
"They have some kind of a bond," Mike said. "And Deadly lives pretty good, for a security officer. I can't get that out of my mind. That Pratt self-portrait must be worth a fortune. How could he afford to own an original Pratt? Especially the most sought-after one. Hey .. " Mike said, looking at his watch. "We'd better get going. Didn't we say we'd meet Jess Walter at Karen Stone's at eleven? It's quarter of, now."
"I'll drive this time," Sheski said to his partner.
With Sheski behind the wheel, they headed toward the river. Jess had finally gotten in touch with them after they had repeatedly tried to contact him. He had called Sheski at his office first thing that morning to tell him that he wanted to meet with them. They agreed with Jess to gather at Karen's farm, but made it clear that they would be talking on the record.
Coming off the bridge, the first house they passed was Lana's. Sheski tapped the car horn twice to let her know he was going by. He had promised to signal her on the way. He was relieved to know, after talking to her earlier, that she was feeling better, although, understandably, still achy. Their car cruised past the quaint Riverside homes. Old Victorians, cottages, and other early structures of all styles and sizes lined Sunbury Road.
The men made small talk about the case, all the while enjoying the scenery. I could live here, Sheski thought.
At the Methodist Church, they turned left, gradually leaving the charming village and entering the countryside. Farm homes ensconced by shade maples became distanced from one another, separated by silent, swaying fields of wheat, soybeans, and occasional Holstein herds in pastures. Barns with silos, old chicken coops, and corn cribs accompanied their main structures.
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