Take Stock in Murder

by Millie Mack

  “Carrie’s right. This is awful, Jenco,” Charles said, dropping the formality. “Why didn’t you tell me this when you first arrived?”

  “To be honest, Mr. Faraday, we wanted to get your perspective on the fight and anything else that happened before we divulged…” Jenco let the sentence trail off.

  “I get it! You’re not here to question us about Todd’s silly prank. You think we had something to do with Todd’s murder,” Charles said, pointing a finger at Jenco. “You’re trying to trap us into saying something.”

  “Actually, I never said Todd was murdered. Why did you think he was murdered, Mr. Faraday?”

  “You said he was found dead on the floor of the Club. If it was a car accident or something like that, he wouldn’t be on the Club’s floor. And detectives don’t normally come out to interview people if death is by natural causes.”

  “Ah, very good,” answered Jenco.

  “When did it happen?” Carrie’s voice was barely audible.

  McCall spoke for the second time. “We believe death occurred sometime between midnight and six a.m., when the body was discovered by a Mr. Shipley from the Club maintenance staff.”

  “That’s a rather large time frame, isn’t it?” asked Charles.

  “We hope we’ll be able to narrow down the time of death once we receive the coroner’s report,” Jenco added.

  “Do you know the cause of death?” Charles decided to get as much information as he could from the detectives. There was a gnawing little voice in his head that warned him to find out everything possible.

  “He was shot in the chest at close range with a small-caliber pistol.”

  “Shot at close range,” Charles repeated the information. “How was that accomplished? Didn’t he resist?”

  “We believe he may have been sleeping off his drunkenness. As a result, the murderer was able to get very close.”

  Charles’s train of thought was interrupted, as Carrie was suddenly on her feet and over at the sideboard, pouring more coffee. Charles looked at Carrie’s face but could read nothing in the expression.

  “Does anyone want more coffee?” Carrie asked.

  Both Charles and Jenco accepted additional cups.

  “Why would anyone shoot Todd if he was passed out? Being shot like that makes it sound like it was…” Charles’s sentence drifted off.

  “You were about to say, Mr. Faraday, that it sounds like the murder was premeditated?”

  “Yes,” he responded.

  “We tend to agree with you, Mr. Faraday. If you and your wife don’t mind, we do have a few more questions for you. I’ll try to make them brief.”

  Charles watched as Carrie returned with a fresh cup of coffee and a silver box from the mantel.

  “Cigarette, Detective Jenco?” Carrie asked as she opened the box.

  “No, thank you,” he responded. “Coffee is my vice.”

  Charles took the lighter from Carrie and lit her cigarette. He knew the news of Todd’s murder was upsetting her. She’d stopped smoking several months ago but had kept a few cigarettes around for guests or emergencies. Did she view Todd’s death as an emergency?

  “Mrs. Faraday, could you tell us what occurred prior to you and Mr. Barrington arriving at the library?”

  Carrie explained that Todd had attached himself to her outside the dining room while she was looking for Charles. She described how they passed Mrs. Heathrow and Mrs. Spinner while Todd was acting like a juvenile.

  “Mrs. Faraday, when it became clear that Mr. Barrington didn’t know where Mr. Faraday was, why didn’t you get away from him?”

  “That is easier said than done with Todd. He was quite intoxicated, and he insisted on tagging along. Every time I tried to break away from him, he became louder. I was trying to avoid a scene. I was sure that once I found Charles, Todd would go his own way.”

  “You mean, Mr. Faraday would take care of him.”

  “No, Detective, that isn’t what I mean,” Carrie replied as she lit her second cigarette, then noticed her first one still burning in the ashtray. Charles took the second one from her as if she were lighting it for him.

  Carrie gave Charles a grateful smile, and then continued. “Todd Barrington flirted with most of the women at the Club. Some even encouraged him, but once their husbands were around, Todd would wander off, and nothing ever happened.”

  “Were you one of the women who encouraged him or flirted with him?”

  “Absolutely not! I’m happily married to my husband.” She paused on the words “happily married” for emphasis.

  “What made last night different?”

  “Different? What do you mean?” Carrie asked.

  “Todd didn’t just wander off. Your husband punched him in the nose, and later in the evening, someone murdered him.”

  “Oh, I see what you mean.” Carrie’s glance at Charles said, Jump in here and help me out.

  “Perhaps I can help,” Charles said. “One difference in last night’s scenario was that Todd didn’t know I was in the library. Todd was also more intoxicated than I’ve ever seen him. I’m sure that had Todd seen me when he entered the library, he would have left, and nothing would have happened.”

  “Exactly what was he doing when you punched him?”

  Charles saw Carrie stiffen for the second time that morning, but he answered calmly. “He was attempting to force a kiss upon my wife. I felt a good pop in the nose would bring him to his senses.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Faraday, I know this is difficult for you. I’m almost finished. According to Mr. Heathrow and Mr. Albright, the strap on your wife’s gown was broken. Are you sure Mr. Barrington was only attempting to kiss your wife?”

  There was silence as Charles thought rapidly of how to answer this question.

  Instead Carrie spoke. “Detective Jenco, I attempted to resist Todd’s advances. In doing so, I leaned too far back, putting pressure on the strap on my gown. It wasn’t torn by Todd. It simply snapped.”

  “Detectives, I think we’ve been more than helpful in answering your questions. It’s unfortunate that Todd’s juvenile behavior with my wife occurred on the same night as his murder. But other than that coincidence, there’s no relationship between the murder and my punching Todd in the nose. I’m very sorry that Todd was killed.”

  Detective Jenco ignored Charles’s hint that the interview was at a close by asking another question. “Then you didn’t threaten Mr. Barrington that if he—and I quote—‘acted this way again, he would get more than a pop in the nose’?”

  “Perhaps I did say something like that, but I wasn’t thinking of punishing Todd. I was thinking of saying something to his father. Believe me, telling Todd’s father was a far greater threat to that young man than any physical threat. Now, again, I think we’ve answered all of your questions.” Charles stubbed out the cigarette.

  “But you didn’t add that piece of information when you were threatening him, did you? I mean, the piece about telling his father.”

  “To be perfectly honest, I don’t remember.”

  “Mr. Heathrow and Mr. Albright don’t remember that part of your statement either.” Detective Jenco remained still for a moment before he asked the next question. “Could you tell me where you both were from the time you left the dance?”

  “We left right after the incident with Todd,” Carrie said. “He ruined the evening for us as well as my dress. We came straight home and went to bed.”

  “And you remained here all night?”

  “We generally don’t go wandering around after we retire for the night. Now, detectives, I must emphasize again that we’ve answered enough questions,” Charles said.

  Detective Jenco still wouldn’t budge. He reached into his pocket and withdrew an item. “Perhaps one of you could help us identify this.” He held out a small evening bag.

  Charles looked at Carrie, but before he could speak, she did. “Yes, I can identify that. It’s the evening bag I took to the dance last night. Where di
d you find it?”

  “We found it sitting on the coffee table in the library at the Country Club.”

  “I guess I left it in all the excitement last night. May I have it back?” Carrie held out her hand to Detective Jenco.

  “I’d prefer to keep the bag. However, I’ll release the card case, which has your license, credit cards, and a twenty-dollar bill in it. Would you sign this property slip, showing I’m returning these items to you?”

  Carrie very calmly accepted the slip of paper and the detective’s pen. Then she turned and went over to the desk to sign the slip. Charles could see from his angle that her hand was shaking as she signed the receipt.

  “Here you are, Detective. Is there anything else we can do for you?” she said, handing him the property slip.

  Jenco accepted the receipt and his pen, and stood up somewhat reluctantly. “Mrs. Faraday, I understand you’re writing a mystery.”

  “Yes, I am. By profession I’m a photographer, but I’m also working on writing a mystery novel. What are you implying, Detective? Because I’m writing a mystery novel, I’m more likely to commit murder?”

  “Not at all. I just like to get an understanding of what people do. I also understand that you helped to solve the murder of Mr. Faraday’s brother.”

  “Actually, we both solved Jamie’s murder,” she answered, looking at Charles.

  Jenco continued. “With you writing about mystery and having worked on a previous murder case, there may be a temptation to help again. I’d appreciate it if you both would leave the solving of this murder in our hands and our hands alone. However, if either of you think of anything additional, I’d appreciate a call.” He looked back and forth between Charles and Carrie, then handed Charles his business card.

  Jenco now accepted that his interview was over. Both detectives said good-bye to Carrie, who was seated on the sofa, lighting her third cigarette.

  “Mr. Faraday, I’d like you and your wife to remain available as we conduct our investigation,” Detective Jenco stated formally as they reached the front door.

  “Ah, the old cliché meaning, ‘Don’t leave town,’” Charles said as he opened the door for the detectives. Then he added, “Gentlemen, murder is a serious matter. I think if you have any additional questions for either me or my wife, I’d like my attorney present.”

  “That’s probably a very good suggestion, Mr. Faraday. We’ll be in touch.” Charles stood at the door until the dark, unmarked car disappeared down the long winding driveway. He made a mental note to call their lawyer, Hugh Simpson, and apprise him of the incident with Todd and the visit from the detectives. He was sure the detectives were building a case against him.

  Sitting outside the door was a stray orange kitten Charles and Carrie had been feeding. It was mewing. Charles reached down, picked it up, and began stroking its fur. Without thinking, he carried the kitten into the house.

  hile heading down the driveway, Jenco started posing questions to McCall. “Well, what do you think?”

  “I’m not sure we got the complete truth from either one of them,” McCall answered.

  “Then you think they were lying?”

  “Well, I don’t think what they told us was a lie. I just don’t think they told us everything they know.” McCall was moving the car slowly down the driveway.

  “Hm, interesting. I felt the same. But it was harder for me to pinpoint the deception while asking the questions. What did you observe from your corner in the room?” Jenco smiled as he thought of how McCall could blend into the background of any setting—so much so that sometimes even he forgot McCall was there.

  “First observation: Mrs. Faraday is a very attractive woman. I can see Todd making a play for her. However, the real question is whether she’d return his advances. Second observation: Mr. Faraday was very nervous when he found out we were policemen. This was clear when he went rambling on about coffee. Was it because he knew about his wife and Todd?”

  “Many people are nervous when policemen greet them on Sunday mornings.”

  “Mrs. Faraday certainly didn’t start out acting nervous. She acted like we were invited for Sunday brunch.”

  “That was a little strange,” Jenco agreed.

  “However, Mr. Faraday acted as though he knew why we were there.”

  “You mean, he knew Todd was dead before we told him?” Jenco asked.

  “No, he acted more like a schoolboy who’s been in a fight and is surprised when he gets called to the principal’s office for punishment. I really believe he thought we were there about the fight.” McCall brought the car to a halt at the end of the Faradays’ driveway.

  “I did notice that once I said Barrington was dead, the Faradays switched roles. Mrs. Faraday became the one who was nervous, and Mr. Faraday started asking very logical police questions,” Jenco added.

  “It was obvious she was nervous when she starting lighting multiple cigarettes.” McCall laughed. “Did you notice the way Mr. Faraday grabbed the second cigarette, like it was meant for him? They were clearly protecting each other. But I’m not sure whether they were covering for each other because they actually know something, or they just suspected each other of a possibility.”

  “That’s an interesting way to phrase it, McCall. Maybe there was more to this Barrington flirtation than either one of the Faradays wanted to admit.”

  “And there’s one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” Jenco asked.

  “Did you notice that the first question Mrs. Faraday asked wasn’t how Todd was murdered but when?”

  “Good observation. And your conclusion, McCall?”

  “I think she was trying to pinpoint the time of death to fix their alibis. Neither one answered your question about going out a second time last night.” McCall paused for a moment, then asked, “Do you think they’ll follow your instructions and stay out of the case?”

  “Hardly. I’m sure they’ll be out and about looking for clues before the end of the day. That’s why I’m placing twenty-four-hour surveillance on the Faradays. This way we know where they go and what they discover.”

  “I’ve also come to another conclusion,” McCall said.

  “Yes? What’s that?”

  “I think it’s a real possibility Mrs. Faraday’s purse wasn’t left behind when the fight occurred, so how did it end up at the Club?”

  “In that case let’s make sure we know what kind of cars the Faradays drive. I want every worker on that cleanup crew questioned about what cars they saw in the parking lot after the dance was over,” Jenco said.

  “Good idea,” McCall turned left and headed the car back toward the police station.

  arrie was lighting another cigarette and placing dirty coffee cups on a tray when Charles entered the study. The kitten looked up at Charles and purred softly.

  “You tell me not to feed that kitten because he’ll keep coming back, and here you’re carrying him into a warm, cozy place,” Carrie said. “Why would he leave now?”

  “Is that another cigarette?” Charles asked as he stroked the cat.

  “What?” Carrie looked down at the cigarette she’d just lit and stubbed it out in the ashtray. She came over and started to stroke the cat. “I can’t believe Todd is dead.”

  “Carrie, this is very serious. I think you and I need to talk about last night.”

  “About the fight with Todd?”

  “No, about what happened later when you returned to the Club.”

  “Why do you think I went back to the Club?” She took the kitten from Charles and sat on the sofa.

  “Are you saying you didn’t return?”

  “No, I just wanted to hear how you knew I went back.”

  “For one thing, at the dance you asked me to hold your evening bag while you were fixing your dress strap. I handed it to you when we got into the car.”

  She was silent for a moment, then answered, “Charles, I’m scared.”

  Charles came and sat next to her on the sofa.
“There’s no reason to be scared—not if you let me help you. Tell me why you went back to the Club.” His voice was very gentle.

  “I awoke early this morning around two a.m., and you were missing. I was just about to get up and see where you were when I realized I didn’t have my tennis bracelet. It had to have come off when I was struggling with Todd. You know how much that bracelet means to me. It was the very first present you gave me.”

  “I remember. What happened next?”

  “I slipped on some clothes and grabbed my evening bag, since my license was in it. Charles, the trip was completely uneventful. I saw no one, and I certainly didn’t see Todd’s body in the library.”

  “OK, darling, I believe you. But I want you to go over each and every detail of your trip to and from the Club. Let me make a few notes, while everything is still fresh in your mind.” Charles went to the desk and got a small leather notebook. He had used this notebook to list all the clues until his brother’s murder was solved.

  “OK, here goes,” she said. “After dressing, I left the house and drove to the Club. I arrived at about two fifteen a.m. I saw the party rental people were still loading tables and chairs onto the trucks over by the kitchen. Since the bar is closest to the library, I drove around to that side of the building and parked. This is the interesting part. I was so focused on getting the bracelet that I hopped out of the car and left my bag on the front seat.”

  “Was the evening bag there when you got back?”

  “I don’t remember, but obviously it wasn’t. I didn’t think about the purse again until that detective pulled it out of his pocket. That’s why I said I must have left it at the Club. I just didn’t mention it was the second time and not the first.”

  “Then what?”

  “The bar door was unlocked, but only the dim lights were on—you know, the ones they leave on for security after they close. I went through the bar and out into the hallway to the library.”

  Charles started to ask another question, but Carrie interrupted him.