“An errand?”
“Yes. I walked down to the Minimart for a lottery ticket. My husband doesn’t approve but I think, well, if you’re meant to have some good luck you have to do your part…be ready for it. It makes sense.”
“Did you see anyone while you were there?”
“Some young people. Nobody I know.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I came through the back path to the church canteen. The cookies were ready. The choir members came over about that time and we had fruit punch and cookies.”
While she was speaking, with the coffee dripping into the carafe, Mrs. Pane had removed four large slices of wheat bread from a plastic bag, taken lettuce, mayonnaise and a plastic-wrapped plate of roast beef slices from the refrigerator. She assembled, quite expertly, two large sandwiches, sliced them in half and put the four pieces on a plate. Mrs. Pane asked Moffat to take four mugs from the cupboard. She filled a pitcher with half and half and placed it and the cups on a silver-plated tray with the sandwiches.
“How long were you gone?”
“About half an hour.”
“Isn’t that a long time to bake cookies?”
She nodded and tapped her temple. “That’s true, Captain. Moffat,” she said as she stacked a small plate with what appeared to be fresh chocolate chip cookies, “But if you lower the heat to 250 degrees, you have just enough time to buy your ticket and when you get back, they’re golden brown. See?”
She pointed to the cookies. Moffat smiled and nodded. He held the door for her as they walked into the dining room.
The food and coffee were greatly appreciated by Moffat and De la Peña who had both missed dinner. Reverend Pane ate the half sandwich his wife served him but said very little. Mrs. Pane grew more talkative. The house, with its hardwood floors, arches and walls covered with swirls of pink plaster appeared cozy to Moffat. Mrs. Pane agreed and briefly choked back emotion describing her pride in the 1920’s California craftsman cottage and her sadness at leaving it. Then she said “Oh, Captain. I was one of the last people to see Mrs. Gillis, I think. She borrowed the keys this evening. She came to Major Franke’s. Catherine was with me.”
De la Peña took notes as Mrs. Pane revealed information that would help the detectives recreate the victim’s last hours. She pointed out Franke’s house. Moffat had already taken an interest in the same when he noted that its second floor window was the only location in the vicinity with an unobstructed view of the crime scene.
The policemen thanked the Panes for their cooperation and hospitality. Each accepted another cookie “for the road.” Back at the street, Moffat signaled Reserve Officer Gordon to join him. He asked that no one notify next of kin. Moffat wanted to do it himself after a quick visit to the Franke home.
De la Peña place an arm on the shoulder of a young policeman, spoke a few words and pointed to a wooded area on the slope above the cottage. Then he joined Moffat.
“What did you think of Reverend Pane, Sergeant?”
“Sorry, Sir, but that is the weirdest guy I ever saw. He claims to have barely known Gillis. Did you see the way he and his wife never looked at each other? The whole time I questioned him he seemed to be somewhere else…thinking of something else?”
“He did seem a bit detached.”
“Yeah...thinking of detaching our heads from our bodies, maybe. That is one creepy dude.”
Moffat chuckled.
“Wait ‘til you hear his alibi. He said he was meditating in the woods up the hill.”
“That’s not so strange, Sergeant. He is a religious person.”
“In a graveyard? He was meditating in a graveyard. So what was he doing with the shovel and work gloves? He said he was digging a new grave. I asked who it was for. ‘No one in particular.’ he said.”
Moffat nodded. “So you sent the officer to check on Reverend Pane’s gravesite alibi?”
“Yes, Sir.”
* * *
Captain Moffat sprinted across the street to the Franke house. In the four weeks he had known the Captain, De la Peña had never seen his boss move quickly other than on the treadmill at the gym below their office. Moffat had a runner’s build with long, lean muscles, lacking the extensive upper body development - biceps and chest - that De la Peña gained through five years of weight lifting. The physical quickness Moffat displayed surprised the Sergeant who realized this was the first time he had seen him in the midst of an active homicide investigation. De la Peña took the steps two at a time to catch Moffat at the door as he rang the bell.
The sound of a television increased suddenly then ceased. As Moffat expected, an elderly woman opened the door. She had curly silver hair, cut short, surrounding a round face with pink cheeks, which, with her amused smile, gave the impression of a kind grandmother. She held a television remote control in her right hand.
“Good evening. We’re policemen. I’m Captain Moffat this is Sergeant De la Peña. We’re investigating a possible crime in the neighborhood.”
“Oh, my,” the lady said.
Moffat asked for her name. De la Peña verified the spelling and recorded it in his notebook.
“Have you heard or seen anything out of the ordinary?”
“Well, I don’t think so,” Catherine Martius responded tentatively. Stepping back to allow the police men to enter the house, she led them to the kitchen where they sat at the table.
“What about around six or six-thirty, anything you may have noticed?” Moffat thought she should have heard the gunshot.
“No, nothing.”
“Do you know Veronica Gillis?” Moffat asked matter-of-factly.
“Yes. Why do you ask? Has something happened?
“Did you see her today?”
“Yes.” Catherine appeared to grow concerned.
“When was that, Mrs. Martius?”
Catherine hesitated. “I don’t know exactly. It would have been around five o’clock, I think. She was here.”
“Mrs. Gillis was the victim of a shooting across the street on the church grounds
“Oh, Dear Lord,” Catherine said with a gasp.
“Was anyone else in the house during the time Mrs. Gillis was here?” Moffat asked.
“Yes. Martha Pane, the minister’s wife, was here and, of course, Lewis Franke. He was upstairs.” Mrs. Martius explained Franke’s condition and the role she and Mrs. Pane shared as caregivers. She confirmed that Gillis had come to pick up keys from Mrs. Pane and that Pane had left on foot in the direction of the church at 5:30, fifteen minutes after Gillis had driven away.
“Oh, Captain, was anyone else hurt? Martha…Is Martha Pane all right?”
“Yes. Mrs. Pane is unharmed. Mrs. Gillis was the only victim.”
“Thank Heavens.”
“Mrs. Martius, please describe everything you can remember about your meeting with Mrs. Gillis this afternoon.”
Catherine hesitated, and looked from Moffat to De la Peña.
“Well, she didn’t come to see me. I only happened to arrive a short time before Veronica. She wanted to pick something up - keys - from Martha.”
Moffat nodded, waiting for more.
“She wanted the keys to the church buildings. There is going to be some development on the site. I really don’t know much about it.”
“So she picked up the keys and left immediately?”
“Not exactly. She spoke to Martha.”
“What did they discuss?”
“She suggested Martha and the Reverend Pane should look at new home plans with her. That was it, mostly.”
“How would you describe Mrs. Gillis’ state of mind?”
“She was the same as ever. She upset Martha, nearly made her cry. She was quite cruel about some problems the church had in the past.”
“Oh, so would you say that Mrs. Pane’s and Mrs. Gillis’ encounter was an angry one?”
Catherine’s jaw dropped slightly. A flash of concern crossed her face. “No, I wouldn’t say that. It was
just a bit unpleasant, that’s all.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Martius. Now, would you tell me where in the house you were from six to six-thirty?”
“I don’t really know. Either upstairs with Major Franke or in the kitchen down here.”
“The shot would have been very loud. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.”
Catherine nodded gently and said, “I don’t hear all that well. The television may have been on. Maybe I heard it but it didn’t sink in. If I’m busy I don’t always notice what’s going on around me.”
“Did Mr. Franke say anything about hearing a shot nearby?”
“No, he hasn’t been very communicative lately.”
Moffat said “Ok, Mrs. Martius. Thank you. Do you think it would be all right to speak to Mr. Franke now?"
When Catherine didn’t respond immediately, Moffat started up the stairs. She began to follow. De la Peña stopped her saying they would need to speak to Franke alone. Catherine told them that his bedroom was at the front of the house.
Moffat knocked and entered calling out Franke’s name. It was a long room with a hospital bed extending from the right side parallel to the back wall. A large side table was to the right of the bed and near it, centered on the wall was a huge maple chest of drawers below an oblong oak-framed mirror. By the window, facing out, were two over-stuffed green upholstered chairs on each side of a small square oak coffee table. In the bed lay a tall, pale, painfully thin old man, wisps of white hair combed across the top of his bald head. He had a small, neatly trimmed white moustache.
Moffat approached Franke’s bed. Franke’s eyes were half open, his breathing heavy and his skin had a grayish tint to it. Moffat touched his arm lightly. Franke opened his eyes. He seemed to recognize the man beside him.
“Adams.”
“No, Mr. Franke. I’m Captain Moffat with the Police Department. I need to ask you some questions.”
Franke reacted with a sound, an “Uh” that to Moffat could have expressed confusion, surprise or fear.
“Mr. Franke, a crime was committed outside. Did you hear a gunshot?”
“No.”
“Have you been awake this evening?”
“Sleeping.” It was an effort for Franke to respond.
Moffat realized he wouldn’t get any information from the dying old man. He thanked him then asked, “Would it be all right if we look around?”
Moffat walked around the bed. Franke’s eyes followed him then closed. Moffat opened the door to a small closet. De la Peña pushed the dresser out from the wall, peered behind then returned it to its original position. The detectives walked to the window and looked at the crime scene. Portable lamps now lit the area. Thirty yards away, Dr. McDonald spoke to a photographer. De la Peña pushed the window open. It slid fairly easily. He pushed it back down. They examined the carpet around the chairs, moving each one then replacing them.
De la Peña returned to the ground floor to check there and outside. Moffat walked back to the hall and opened the door into a room with the second window that faced the street. Smaller than Franke’s bedroom, it was set up as an office and furnished with a large walnut desk, matching credenza and four-drawer file cabinet. Moffat’s attention was drawn to the wall behind the desk. There were two framed 8 by 10 photographs. One was of Franke with Richard Nixon that Moffat guessed was from the late fifties. The second, probably taken in the late sixties, showed Franke with Ronald Reagan. A gold plaque from Veterans of Foreign Wars hung just to the right of the photos above a certificate of appreciation from Lewis B. Hershey, Director of the Selective Service. Two National Geographic maps, one of Europe 1954 and the other of Korea 1959 covered the remainder of the wall.
The desk was covered with a green felt pad. An adding machine, a pencil holder, a vintage black rotary telephone and a lamp gave the appearance of an office from the 60’s. The only personal item was a framed color photograph of Franke in uniform at Fort Ord, California. Behind, on the credenza, mounted on a dark walnut base was a bayonet. The surfaces of all the furniture were bare of papers and had been recently polished.
Moffat slid open the door to a long, shallow closet in the middle of the back wall. A bar for hanging clothes had been removed, replaced with shelves. These were filled with stationary and office supplies. On the highest shelf, Moffat lifted the plastic cover from a red typewriter. Next to it was an ancient-looking cassette recorder.
Moffat examined the window in this room as well. The view of the church hall was obstructed by branches of a large oak at the corner of Franke’s front yard and large evergreen shrubs near the sidewalk in front of the church property.
* * *
While Moffat was upstairs, De la Peña walked through the ground floor rooms, peering under and around two large sofas in the living room and a hutch in the dining room. De la Peña exited through the kitchen door and surveyed the back and side yards. There was an empty clothesline on the side. Near the house were a redwood table and two benches. Franke’s yard and those of his neighbors ended in thick woods covering the edge of a steep hill. De la Peña walked nearly to the end and approached a large, rusty oil drum. He looked in and saw it was about 1/3 full of cold ashes. While his attention was focused on the bottom of the barrel, in the woods just 5 yards away a crash startled De la Peña. He spun around and found himself facing a large, antlered deer. The animal stopped momentarily then turned toward its right, disappearing quickly back into the woods.
“Carajo!” De la Peña swore in Spanish. Coming after the shock of seeing Ronnie Gillis dead and the Reverend Pane alive, the Sergeant had had enough adrenaline surges for one evening. He walked around the side of the house, looked in two garbage cans and continued to the front to meet Moffat.
* * *
Sergeant De la Peña guided the Camaro gently up the shrub-lined driveway and stopped in front of the garage. He turned the steering wheel to the left, set the parking brake and shut off the motor. Seeing no lights anywhere within the house, both men left the car doors open. De la Peña knocked at the front door. They listened for some movement, but heard nothing. From somewhere behind the house they could hear country music. They walked around the house. Next to a swimming pool, they saw a brightly lit pool house. The front wall of the building was entirely glass with a sliding door in the center, open despite the brisk evening air. Through the glass, dressed only in nylon shorts and running shoes, a muscular man in his early forties straddling a bench lifted the bar of a weight machine in a standard bench press exercise. De la Peña held up his badge, moved several steps to the left and caught the man’s attention. Moffat walked in displaying his badge as well and asked “Wade Gillis?”
Gillis sat up with a perplexed expression. “Yes…what?”
“We have some bad news about your wife, Mr. Gillis.”
As De la Peña broke the news, Moffat observed Gillis’ reaction. He seemed not to grasp the meaning, shaking his head slightly several times, moving his lips without words. Then he stood up, turned off the stereo said, "I’m sorry. Who are you again?”
Moffat repeated their names. “Mr. Gillis, I know this is difficult for you. We are going to have to ask you some questions about your wife. It’s very important we do this tonight. Is that all right?”
Still puzzled, Gillis agreed and apparently just then feeling the cold, rubbed his palms over his biceps and chest. He reached for a sweatshirt hanging from a wooden peg on the wall, pulled it over his head and down over his tanned, hairless chest and abdomen.
“Can you tell me how old your wife was, Mr. Gillis?”
“Uh…fifty-two.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Seventeen years.”
“Did she live here with you?”
“Yes.”
“Any children?”
“No.”
“Did she have any children prior to your marriage?”
“No. There was some condition. Ronnie couldn’t have children.”
“Does anyone els
e live here?”
Gillis nodded. “Her mother Laraine lives with us. She’s in her bedroom. Must be asleep now.”
“Does Mrs. Gillis have other family members?”
“Ronnie had two half brothers. The older one died years ago in a car crash. Her younger brother dropped off his wife and kid here ten years ago and we never heard from him again. The wife tried to get child support but gave up. He’s always on the move.
Moffat opened his wallet and showed Gillis the business card Veronica Gillis had handed him 12 hours ago. “Is this your wife’s business address?” Gillis confirmed that and responding to further questions told Moffat that his wife was the owner and that she employed about twelve sales and two clerical personnel. As far as Gillis knew, everything was going well at work; there were no financial problems, no employee problems. Everything as usual.
Moffat then said “Mr. Gillis, in a situation like this, I have to ask some personal questions and for your whereabouts this evening.”
“OK.”
“Have you and your wife been experiencing any problems in your relationship?”
“No.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have a reason to harm your wife?
Gillis shook his head. When Moffat said nothing, Gillis looked at him and said, “No, I don’t know anyone. I don’t know why this would happen.”
De la Peña asked “Where were you from five o’clock until now, Mr. Gillis?”
Gillis exhaled. “Finished work at three thirty. I coached practice until about four forty five then came home. I made a salad, ate it in the den, watched some TV, then came out here to lift weights."
“ Was your mother-in-law with you at any time this evening?” De la Peña continued.
“Well…I heard the set in her bedroom when I was in the kitchen. Her light was off when I came out here about nine. I didn’t see her tonight.”
Seeing De la Peña’s head tilt and eyebrow rise, Gillis added, “That happens a lot. She’ll come out if Ronnie’s home, otherwise she stays mostly in her room at night.”
Before they left, Gillis gave Moffat permission to search the house, home office and her business offices for anything that might assist the investigation. De la Peña disconnected and carried out the sole computer in the house. Moffat told Gillis they would be back at nine tomorrow. At Moffat’s request, Gillis promised to have his mother-in-law, sister-in-law and nephew at the house for interviews.
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