My First Murder

by Susan P. Baker

  “So what happened?”

  She made an ugly face. “Joel beat her up and the baby was born dead.” Her face grew melancholy.

  When Madge said he was mean, she wasn’t kidding. “Sad. Poor Madge. What happened to her husband?”

  “I’m not sure. I think he got arrested, but after that, I don’t know. Mom thought I was too young to understand, but I saw stuff like that on TV all the time.”

  “That’s really a tearjerker.”

  “Yeah. I felt real sorry for Madge.”

  “That didn’t make you like her any better, though, did it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re not crazy about her, are you?”

  Catherine was scratching the frosting on the side of the beer mug.

  “Catherine.”

  She shook her head once more.

  “Did your mom know how you felt?”

  “No. I didn’t always feel that way.”

  “Come on, Catherine,” I leaned in toward her. “Didn’t you tell her about Madge and your father?”

  She rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “How did you know about that?”

  “I know.”

  “I guess I did mention to her that Madge was coming over all the time, Mavis, but it didn’t seem real serious until recently. I wanted to talk to her about it some more, but I never got the chance. She didn’t call me this month. I wrote to her and told her to call me, but she never did.”

  “What happened recently that made you think it was more serious?”

  “Madge decided we should have a heart-to-heart,” she said, her tone rich in sarcasm and anger.

  “Yeah? What’d she say?”

  Catherine sighed dramatically. “That she loved Dad and she thought he loved her and that she loved us, Anne and me, and that she hoped I didn’t mind. She wanted to get married and would I not make it difficult for her, that Dad was lonely. All that kind of junk.”

  “I take it that you didn’t approve.”

  “Of course not!” Her face was flushed now.

  “Did you tell Madge?”

  “Not in so many words, but she knows. She would tell Dad that she knew I would always be hoping for Mother’s return. And I was. I kept telling him that I just knew she’d be coming back soon. Dad was really caught in the middle. He didn’t know what to do. I knew he was lonely and that he cared about Madge, but not in the same way as for Mother. Madge had talked to him about getting a divorce or seeing a lawyer about having Mother declared dead.” She frowned and leaned her chin on her elbow. “I guess he doesn’t have to now, does he?”

  “Did he before?”

  “I don’t know. He hadn’t been discussing it with me much recently. I was afraid he was weakening; that’s why I wanted to talk to Mother so badly. If she would have just come home.”

  “If we just knew why she couldn’t.”

  We sat there looking at one another, both thinking our “if onlys.” After a few minutes, Catherine said she had to leave. If she didn’t get home soon, there’d be questions.

  I paid for the beer and walked to Catherine’s car with her, promising I’d be in touch.

  After she left, I drove back to my room to freshen up for dinner. I wanted to get an early bite and then phone home. I had been feeling guilty about not talking to my favorite reporter, Fred Elliot, after we had made a deal, and then, too, I wanted to get the latest from Margaret.

  I parked my Mustang, went into the motel office to get a newspaper, and then went to my room. I was scanning the front page as I put my key in the lock, not paying attention, like an idiot, and when I stepped through the door, I was clobbered on the back of the head.

  I awoke seeing the fibers of the carpet from close range. I could smell that powdery stuff the maid sprinkled on the carpet before vacuuming. It had an aroma like roses and made me want to puke. My head was throbbing. Before I gathered myself up off the floor, I wiggled all my limbs to see if they still worked. They did.

  I pulled myself up on the edge of the bed so I could get my bearings. The bedclothes were all in a pile. I glanced around the room. It was a mess. My suitcase was spread open on the floor. The dresser drawers had been ransacked, even the one with my dirty, smelly clothes in it. Half of them were hanging out; the other half had been dumped on the floor. Next to where I had been lying was my briefcase, the contents scattered. I was sure that my purse would have been stolen, but it was still there. The contents had been poured out over a wide area, but when I checked it, nothing was missing.

  I made a determined effort to get to the phone. It wasn’t easy. Each step caused a throbbing sensation throughout my brain. I called the police. I was scared. It was that simple. I didn’t know what it was that whoever was looking for, but I hoped that it had been found. I did know that I was going to make many phone calls that night. If someone was going to cause me bodily injury, I wanted to be sure that the right people were apprised of the situation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Fred, it’s me, Mavis,” I said into the phone after the Fort Worth police had gone.

  “You bitch! Where in the hell have you been? What happened to your promise to keep in touch?” he said in a half-friendly tone.

  “I fully deserve your wrath, Fred. I admit it. I apologize for not calling you sooner.”

  “Well, all right, so long as you apologize, I guess I’ll forgive you. So where have you been anyway? I called your office, but that dingbat you have working for you told me her lips were sealed.” He laughed.

  “Who was that, Margaret or Candy?”

  “The one with the funny voice.”

  “Margaret. She’s just doing her job, Fred.”

  “Talking to her is a real trip. Why is it that private investigators always have secretaries with high voices?” He snorted with laughter.

  I smiled with pride. Fred had unknowingly flattered me. He was talking like I was a real private investigator. “I don’t know, but I’ve noticed that recently, too. So what’s going on down there that I might want to know about?”

  “No, you don’t, Mavis. You bring me up to date first. You owe me that much.”

  “So I do, Fred. What would you say if I told you that someone just practically bashed in my head?”

  “Just? Are you all right, girl?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. The cops wanted me to go to the hospital, but I’m sure this ice pack the EMTs gave me will do the job on my goose egg.”

  “You poor kid. Wait a minute. You said ‘down there.’ Where are you?”

  “In Fort Worth.”

  “Fort Worth! What in the hell are you doing up there?”

  “Investigating that murder. I told you I was on that.”

  “So tell, already. What’s going on?”

  “You have to promise to keep it to yourself until it’s all over, okay?”

  “Right. Let me get a pen.”

  “Ready?” I proceeded to give Fred the rundown on everything that I’d been able to find out about Doris Jones, including her real name. Between whistles and exclamations, we were on the phone for half an hour before I could get any information out of him.

  “Well, that really blows the HPD theory, doesn’t it?”

  “I’d say so,” I said smugly. I couldn’t help it. After what I’d been through, I deserved it.

  “So now you want the really big news?” he asked.

  “Yeah, what else have you been able to find out?”

  “There’s been another strangulation down here.”

  “Really? That ought to keep them busy. Was it the same MO?”

  “Yep. A stocking—but listen to this, Mavis. Your deceased was the only one killed with her own. The others were all the same brand and must have been brought in by the killer.”

  “Wow! When did they find the body?”

  “Yesterday. They think that she wasn’t supposed to be found until Memorial Day, a holiday, like the others, but the murderer didn’t count on the
landlady having the exterminator in to spray all the apartments. If he hadn’t found her, she wouldn’t have been missed for quite a while.”

  “I’m convinced that whoever killed Elizabeth was someone she knew, Fred. With everything I’ve heard, it couldn’t have been the same killer—and she wouldn’t have let anyone she didn’t know inside her apartment. Carl told me so.”

  “I believe you. And someone up there wouldn’t be ransacking your room and warning you off.”

  “Right. You know Ben Sorensen, Fred. Do you think if I told him everything now that he’d believe me? He didn’t before.”

  “You two are on the outs, huh? I saw him the other day and asked about you. He was real short-tempered with me.”

  “He’s angry. He didn’t believe me, and he didn’t want me to look into this. Same old story. But do you think I have enough to convince him now?”

  Fred laughed. “Trying to find an excuse to call him?”

  I sighed. “I guess so, but it would be nice to know he would know where I was in case something else happened. You know how it is.”

  “Are you worried, Mavis? Want me to come up there?”

  “No, I don’t want you to come up here, Fred. I don’t even want Ben to come up here. I’m not a baby. I just thought you might give me a little fatherly advice.”

  “Thanks a lot. Kids I’ve got. Women I don’t.”

  “C’mon, Fred. You know how I feel.”

  He sighed loudly. I knew it was all a tease. “Call him. The worst he could do would be to hang up on you, right?”

  “Right. Okay. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything else.”

  “Same here. Give me your number.”

  I did, and I gave him the name and address of the motel, and hung up. Then I gave HPD a ring, but Ben was out to dinner.

  I was feeling nervous, very lonely and, I admit it, sorry for myself. My head ached like all get-out. I was hungry, but tired of evening meals alone. I was mystified as to whodunit. And for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what anyone would want in my room. It was kind of creepy thinking that whoever it was might come back. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I didn’t like the independence anymore. I decided to call The Rex.

  After our initial greeting, I asked Carl whether he ever detected any sign of Doris being a drug user.

  “Are you crazy, Mavis? If she’d used drugs, I would’ve known about it. What’s going on up there, anyway?”

  “I don’t know, Carl. I’m getting more and more confused. The way I figure it, there are possibly three suspects: Vernon Spencer, her ex-law partner, is at the head of the list; following is her husband, who had a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy on her; and lastly is a man named Willard Thompson, who is a known drug dealer and says she stole his drugs but that he didn’t kill her.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard. She didn’t use ’em or I’d have known it. I’ve had druggie waitresses here before, and I can tell. And she couldn’t have sold them. She didn’t have enough opportunity except on her days off. I just refuse to believe it. Jesus!”

  “I’m grasping at straws, Carl. I can’t really find a motive for Spencer. It’s just that he’s strange and these other people I met think he did it. I don’t really think Thompson did it, or why would he seek me out when I didn’t even know he existed? That leaves Robert Reynolds, her husband, and according to their oldest daughter, she never told him where Elizabeth was. Not that he couldn’t have found out some other way, I guess. I’m running in circles. I know I’m onto something. I just don’t know what.”

  “Damn. Something’s got to break. Did you hear about the other murder down here?”

  “Yeah, I heard. I’m convinced Elizabeth Reynolds’ death was not related, Carl. Other than the murderer being someone she knew, I just don’t know who did it. Whoever that someone is thinks that I’ve got something they want.”

  “What?”

  “Someone ransacked my room today and banged me on the head when I walked in on them, but I can’t figure out what they think I have that they’d want.”

  “Jesus!”

  “Would you stop saying that? Give me your ideas on this, Carl.”

  “Are you okay? Did you call the police? Maybe we’d better stop for your own good, Mavis. You want me to close up and come up there?”

  “Yes, I’m okay. Just a little shaken up. And yes, I called the police, and no, don’t come up here. Just help me figure out what they could think I have of Elizabeth’s. That’s got to be what they were looking for and her daughter told me that Elizabeth said she had some protection. I haven’t a clue to what it was.” But a thought just occurred to me. I suddenly remembered the large safe deposit box that contained nothing but rings.

  “Beats the hell out of me, Mavis.”

  “Don’t use that phrase, Carl. I hope that’s not next on their list.”

  “Don’t joke like that. You’ll make me so worried that I’ll regret having hired a woman.”

  “Oh, never that. I’m okay, and I’ll continue to be okay. If they’d wanted to really hurt me, they already had their chance. Think about all this, Carl, and call me if you come up with anything, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Mavis.”

  I hung up and went to dinner in the motel restaurant. The food lacked desirability, but I didn’t have the wherewithal to drive. When I got back, I showered, took three aspirin, and got into bed. I was so tired that I didn’t even consider the possibility that my visitor would return. I sank into a deep sleep.

  I was dragged back to consciousness by a nagging sound that went on and on at regular intervals. I don’t know how many times the phone must have rung before I finally reached for it.

  “’Lo,” I mumbled as I cradled the receiver and scooted down further under the covers.

  “It’s me, Willard,” said the deep voice. “I’ve got some more information for you.”

  I was groggier than usual, probably because of the little incident earlier. It took a while before I realized who Willard was. I was snoozing off with the phone right up next to my ear.

  “You listening? I said I got something to tell you,” he said, the urgency in his voice dragging me out of my lethargic state.

  “Um, go ahead,” I muttered.

  “I ain’t comin’ there. They’re probably watching you. You got to come here.”

  “Can’t. Can’t drive tonight,” I said sleepily.

  “What’s wrong with you? You awake?”

  “Yup. Got hit. Can’t drive tonight.”

  “Humph. Meet me tomorrow night then. Same place. Midnight.” The phone clicked.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  When I awoke early the next morning, the receiver was on the floor and the noise coming from it was unbearable. It wasn’t until I’d hung it up that I had a vague recollection of the call of the night before. What a dope I felt like.

  I got dressed and headed back downtown. I was going to talk to that assistant district attorney if I had to wait around the courthouse all day. Carl was right; something had to break, and the only way it was going to was if I made it happen. Besides, I wanted him to know what had been going on in his jurisdiction as far as my bodily health was concerned.

  I arrived outside the courthouse at the same time as Doyle Proctor. I saw him getting out of a new Corvette, so I followed him and soon introduced myself. He was wearing a blue pinstriped suit, the cloth of which appeared to be silk. The color brought out the blue of his eyes. His piercing, direct stare caught me off guard as it did the other day. I muttered my name to him and attempted to shake hands, but dropped my hand when he didn’t take it.

  There’s a clue to a person’s character in their handshake, I believe, and I’m automatically put off when someone won’t take my hand. There’s nothing wrong with my hand. I keep it clean, not smelly or sweaty. But the man refused it. He acknowledged me instead with a nod of his head.

  “I’d like to talk to you if you have a few mi
nutes, Mr. Proctor,” I said as I followed him to the rather-steep stairs. I was looking around for an elevator, but he started climbing.

  “In what regard, Miss Davis?” He was taking the steps two at a time, so I was forced to chase after him.

  “Elizabeth Reynolds.” I was huffing by the first landing. I really was going to have to consider quitting smoking.

  He didn’t flinch or turn around. He kept going. A constable passed us on the way up, as did a couple of men in suits who greeted Proctor and stared at me, but he still didn’t stop. The district attorney’s office had a glass door, a glass enclosure to the right, behind which a receptionist sat, and then another glass door. The reception area looked like a booth in a movie theater. I hoped I wasn’t going to have to get a ticket to get inside. Proctor continued to walk ahead of me so I followed him, quickening my pace to keep up with him.