“No,” Krause answered quickly. “She’s at her music lesson in the village; she’s studying classical guitar.”
Before TJ broke away, she handed Mrs. Krause a card with the same reminder to call her if she thought of anything out of the ordinary about Norman Teschler’s last days. Back in the car, she made a note to talk to Gemma again about the Krause family. Something here was definitely strange, but she had no idea if it had anything to do with the explosion.
The music store on the eastern edge of State Street had a parking area behind the building. She squeezed the Mini into the only tiny space left, wedged between an old Plymouth van and six-passenger SUV. TJ walked around to the front entrance and entered an open display area featuring a variety of guitars. Many were on display as collector’s items, but the selection available for purchase was vast. Business had to be good to support this kind of inventory. A young girl sat behind the counter, engaged in a computer screen. It looked like she was working on an eBay account. Figured. The only way for merchants to stay in the black these days was to supplement their store sales online, most often with Amazon or eBay.
TJ tapped the small bell on the desk.
When the girl turned around, TJ saw she had to be a minor, maybe sixteen or seventeen, if that. She had long, straight hair that ended in a few deliberate curls at the middle of her back and an adorable face spoiled by an angry sprinkling of acne. She wore a nametag that introduced her as Tabitha, and her face, round and innocent, smiled as she stood to greet TJ.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for Drucilla Krause. She’s having a lesson here.” An assumption only, but TJ didn’t think there could be more than one music store in downtown Tosa.
Tabitha paged through an appointment book. “Right, she’s with Kane. I can’t interrupt, but they’ll be done in about ten minutes if you’d like to wait.”
TJ perused the guitars, the books on music, and every kind of pick imaginable until she heard two people approaching from the back. Drucilla Krause looked nothing like her brother. She laughed at something said by a man with nearly waist-length hair that was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.
“Dru,” Tabitha injected, “this lady is waiting for you.”
Drucilla gave TJ a flat-eyed glance and turned back to her instructor. “I’ll see you next week.” He walked over to the appointment book and stood studying it as intently as if it were a work of fiction.
TJ introduced herself and explained her purpose in talking to Dru. “I already talked to your mom and your brother. I just have a few questions for you.” It wasn’t difficult to deduce Kane wanted to eavesdrop; he still lingered at the appointment book.
“Could we go somewhere to talk? How about the coffee shop across the street?”
Drucilla’s eyes shifted to Kane. “Sure. I have to make another appointment. I’ll meet you over there in a minute.”
Clearly, the girl wanted TJ out of there. Maybe she had a crush on the guy and wanted a few last words with him. But she’d just been alone with him for what, an hour? She considered hanging around, but figured the pair wouldn’t do anything of interest in front of her.
TJ ordered a cup of coffee and a muffin while she waited for Drucilla Krause. The Krauses might really know nothing about Teschler’s explosion, but they acted like they had something to hide.
She stuffed the last crumbs of the muffin into her mouth as she finally saw the girl enter the coffee shop and look around. Taller than her brother by at least a few inches, Drucilla carried her weight in her hips, although she wasn’t overweight. Black hair with heavy bangs touched her shoulders over a muddy white T-shirt and dark jeans. She came over and took the chair across from TJ.
“What do you want to ask me?”
“I’m talkin’ to everybody who lives by Norman Teschler. Do you remember seeing or talkin’ to him the day of the explosion?”
“No. I mean I didn’t talk to him. I remember I saw him. He was working in the yard with Lucian; Lucian does chores for people in the neighborhood.”
Drucilla had been prepared for the question. TJ studied her, intending for the pause to make the girl nervous. She obviously was already, but why?
“So you’re takin’ guitar lessons?”
“Yeah, from my cousin Kane.”
A Krause relative. Funny that Anna Krause hadn’t mentioned that fact. “You play with a group?”
“No, I only play at our church services.”
“Did Mr. Teschler belong to your church?” TJ figured this question was a long shot, but wanted to swing the topic back to Norman.
“No. No one around here does.”
“Did you notice if he had any visitors that night? Any strange cars around?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Is there anyone else in the neighborhood I should talk to, someone who knows him well?”
“I don’t know.” She raised her eyes as if to ponder the question. “He’s pretty friendly with Mrs. Haynes.”
Haynes. The horny neighbor. TJ had her on a to-visit list—before cocktail hour. The Krauses knew something they weren’t telling her. Maybe she was asking the wrong questions, but now felt like the wrong time to push.
Chapter 22
Hoping that Westphal would have more to tell them about Sondra Jackson’s death, Detective Brian Haymaker got to the Medical Examiner’s office just before five p.m. Tasha, who was there when he got back to the station earlier, eagerly came with him.
Brian and Tasha had just started to don the standard paper gowns before entering the autopsy suite when Westphal rushed out and held out a hand, signaling there was no need to gown up.
He pulled his mask down to his neck. “I’ll save you the viewing. Nothing to see really. There is no mystery about the cause of death; Sondra Jackson died from strangulation. We got some scrapings from under her nails, so there should be some DNA for you when you find someone to match it with.” Westphal paused, screwing up his face as if fighting for just the right words.
“What about time of death?” Haymaker asked.
“Best I can estimate is sometime between one to three a.m. this morning.”
“What was she strangled with?”
“By hand. Someone with small-to-medium-sized hands, most likely right-handed.”
“Were there any signs of rape?” Fink had claimed he used a condom, but it was possible the intruder raped her. Or was it intruders? The guest room had looked like all the others they had investigated: a mussed, bodily-fluid-stained bed, no sign of robbery, and more than one intruder had been present. Whether the cum case overlapped the murder of Sondra Jackson is what they had to find out. The evidence sure pointed that way.
“That’s where things get interesting,” Westphal responded. “The victim had semen in the vaginal vault, but whoever deposited it there was a secretor. Your Mr. Fink, the one she had sex with, is not. That tells us she’d had sex within an hour of her death with someone other than Fink, who must have used a condom, as there were traces of lubricant present. We sent out a DNA sample from the seminal fluid we collected. And before you ask, there were no signs the act was not consensual.”
“What?” Brian noticed his partner’s mouth drop open at the revelation. What the hell happened in that house? Did Sondra Jackson know the people who were entering houses and having sex in other peoples’ beds, or did the swingers have a connection of some kind to the intruders in the cum case? Maybe they had leapt to the conclusion that there even were intruders, and the scene with Sondra had been planned by Craig Jackson without Fink’s knowledge.
“Isn’t it possible she just went along with it? Possibly at knife point?” Tasha asked.
Westphal pulled off his gown, exposing his short, hunched form. “Anything’s possible. But if I were asked on the witness stand if she’d been raped, I’d have to say
there were no signs the act was forced.” He grinned, seemingly delighted at the look on the detectives’ faces. With his full lips and spaced teeth, it was no wonder people called him “the gnome” behind his back.
“It gets even more lascivious than that, Detectives. Assuming Mr. Fink told the truth about having sex with her, Mrs. Jackson had sex with four people the night she died—including Fink. There were bodily fluids on her mouth and other parts of her person from at least two men and two women. Must have been a real orgy.”
Chapter 23
As I watched Taylor walk away from me, I couldn’t help myself; I had a good cry—right there in my car. Never mind the people who walked by, trying not to notice. After I pulled myself together, I knew I had to process the enormity of seeing him again. I didn’t want to do it alone. Thirty minutes later, I parked in the lot of the Women’s Center of Milwaukee where Lisa Rayburn happened to be working that afternoon. When I called, I caught her with time available and she invited me over to the office she uses when she volunteers at the center.
After she greeted me, I told her what had just happened, including my meltdown in the parking lot, then waited anxiously to hear what she would say. After a brief pause, she asked, “What are you feeling now, Gemma?”
I should have known she would ask a question rather than make any kind of comment. I grabbed a tissue and wiped under my eyes. I hadn’t even checked my makeup; my mascara must have been down to my chin. “It’s hard to explain. I seem to be all over the place.”
“If you were to pin down your most prevalent emotion, what would it be?”
My eyes took in the room while I examined my feelings. I couldn’t help but compare the utilitarian space to Lisa’s tasteful and comfortably decorated office on Pewaukee Lake. The economy-sized box of tissues seemed to be the only thing the two places had in common.
“I think I’m actually feeling a little relieved.” My answer surprised me. Until I voiced the words, I hadn’t acknowledged any feelings of relief, just sadness.
“Why are you relieved?”
I squirmed in my chair, which was difficult since my suede skirt clung to the fake leather. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because I’ve been fantasizing about him forever and now it’s over; I’ve seen him.”
“Were you disappointed?”
“No, he looked just as I’d imagined him, really not much different than he did sixteen years ago.”
“Is it possible some of your relief is based on his assurance that he still cares about you?”
I couldn’t deny it. “I suppose. But I’m also relieved that I was able to walk away from him when it would have been so easy to stay. I’m thirty-seven years old. I can’t let myself fall in love again with a man I could only have on a limited basis.”
“Gemma, if meeting him today represents a kind of closure for you, it might mean a breakthrough on your sleep paralysis. Give this some thought: it’s possible your night visitor represents the hold your past has on you. If you can come to terms with it, the release of that burden could make a difference. I know the meds have helped, but it’s time to try sleeping without them.”
“I have been for a few nights now. Of course, now that I’m setting those crazy number boards out every night, I haven’t had an episode.”
“I’m glad to hear you’ve been sleeping without medication. Maybe this new insight will end the sleep paralysis for you in the long run, or hopefully the episodes will no longer be frightening.”
I doubted that that, but she’d given me a lot to consider. I left the office feeling better than I had in days.
When I got home and brought in the boxes of Norman’s things, I noticed the house was unusually quiet. Clyde always greeted me when I came in. “Let’s pray,” was a typical hello from the bird.
Since I’d taken Clyde from the Krauses, his behavior had appeared to be that of a normal bird. Now he sat pressed to one side of a wooden perch that ran the length of the cage, his eyes half-closed. I had no idea how to tell if a bird was sick, but I didn’t like the way he looked.
I rushed over to the Krauses’ back porch and knocked loudly until Lucian opened the door. “Is your mother here?”
“No. She went to work.”
He didn’t ask me what I needed, and his body language told me that the boy would prefer if I left. The few interactions I had with him before had made me uncomfortable. I felt guilty about it, given his condition. I didn’t know much about cherubism but had been told he didn’t suffer any pain because of it. I imagined any physical pain he bore probably paled next to the pain of rejection he received from his peers.
“I need to ask you about the parrot. Would you have the name of the bird’s vet?”
“We never needed a vet. Can’t help you.”
I thanked him despite his rudeness right before the door closed in my face. I went back to Clyde and talked softly to him until he made a few low-pitched, barely identifiable chirps. The phone rang before I could open the Yellow Pages to find a vet who specialized in birds.
Jon Engel said, “Hi, Gemma. I wanted to let you know that the claims you submitted for damage to your house from the explosion have been approved. Don’t look for a check right away, though. It usually takes at least a month.”
“Thanks for letting me know. You’re working late, aren’t you?”
“I don’t keep real regular hours. I have an assistant who’s here eight hours a day and keeps the phone manned. Or I guess I should say womaned—if that’s even a word.”
I smiled into the phone. “I don’t think so, but I knew what you meant. You wouldn’t by any chance know where I can find a veterinarian that sees birds, do you?”
“Don’t tell me the preacher’s sick?”
I recalled his fascination with Clyde and his calling Clyde “the preacher.”
“I’m pretty sure something’s wrong. He’s quiet and not moving around at all.”
“A friend of mine has a relative who raises birds. I don’t remember what kind, but if you like, I’ll give him a call. If he can give me the bird guy’s number, I’ll get right back to you.”
I went back to Clyde. I never had felt a lot of affection for the poor thing but I’d fed him, cleaned his cage, and let him live in the home he had been accustomed to. Feeling sorry for him now, I opened the door of the cage and reached in to stroke his feathers. This was the first time I had tried to touch him. He surprised me by stepping onto my wrist and slowly climbing my arm to sit on my shoulder. I had no experience with birds before I rescued Clyde from the Krause household, and now I felt bad that I hadn’t taken the time to find out more about his care. His weight on my shoulder was a new experience. He stayed close to my neck, his beak softly tapping the side of my chin while he traveled with me back to the kitchen. The phone rang again as we entered.
Jon said quickly, “I talked to the bird man. He got pretty excited when I described Clyde, said he’s an African gray, an expensive bird. He told me he does most of the doctoring on his own birds and offered to take a look at him. Tonight, if you want.”
I must have hesitated a bit. TJ was supposed to come over to help me go through Norman’s boxes earlier today, although we put that on hold when I had been sidetracked by my meeting with Taylor.
Jon added, “Listen, if you’re uncomfortable having a stranger over, I’ll come with him.”
Jon Engel was the sort of person who made everything seem so simple. Being uncomfortable with a stranger wasn’t my problem, but I could use a big dose of simple. I would meet with TJ tomorrow.
“Sure. That would be nice.”
Chapter 24
TJ picked up JR from Janeen’s house after Gemma called to cancel their meeting. Richard had accepted her invitation to dinner. She had JR down for the night, two steaks thawing on the counter, and she was chopping vegetables for a salad. A bottle of his favorite wine waite
d on the table next to two wine glasses.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked, taking her in his arms.
She knew he would ask that and had her answer ready. “Nothin. Just thought it would be nice. We haven’t had a special dinner in a while.” She needed Richard in a good mood when she asked him about the case. She needed to pry information from him about the Jackson woman. Even though it wasn’t Milwaukee’s case, Richard would be privy to what was happening if he wanted to be since the victim resided in Milwaukee.
While the steaks grilled, they sat in the dining room drinking wine. It was time. She launched into the speech she had ready, explaining her suspicion that Teschler’s death tied in with the others. Richard listened without comment, a cop’s skill he excelled at. He waited until she concluded before commenting.
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t take a case that required you to be armed.”
She had already admitted to wearing her gun. This little talk wasn’t going as planned. “Yeah, but when I took the case, it didn’t have that feel to it. I told you that. Thought I’d just nose around a little, probably have to tell her it was a dead end and the inspector was right—it was a freak accident.”
Richard leaned back, linking his hands over his head. “I don’t know, TJ. You said everyone knew Teschler had lost his sense of smell and that he had a cigar every night. If the explosion were deliberate, that would narrow it down to someone he knew. I hardly see how his death would be related to the others. And don’t forget, the Chapman girl’s death could have been an accident.”
“I know, but now the explosion’s more suspicious, right?”
Richard sighed. “I suppose you’re leading up to ask me for information about the Jackson murder.”
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