No tears spilled from her eyes, but she did have a quiet, melancholy sadness about her. It could have been the mountain of bills, or it could have been something else. Had the couple been facing financial trouble? If something ever happened to Gary, Deena knew she’d be totally lost when it came to paying their bills and taking care of finances. Maybe Allison was just overwhelmed by it all.
“So why did you want to talk to me?” Allison stared over her cup as though it were a shield protecting her from the harsh questions she anticipated.
Deena glanced down at her handbag that housed the suicide note from Drew. “Why don’t you go first. Tell me why you called me.”
“Well, I wanted to see where you were on your murder investigation. Maybe there is something I can add to help find Drew’s killer. He had some enemies, you know. Maybe one of them did it.”
“Enemies? Like who?”
“Like his sister for one. And her husband, too, I guess. And what about that woman who was pretending to be his sister.”
Remembering Dan’s caution about who to trust, Deena debated defending Nina and Woody or letting Allison believe they were out to get their hands on her fortune. Now that she was certain Drew had killed himself, it didn’t much matter. Still, she didn’t want to make the relationship between Allison and Nina any worse. “From what I can tell, neither was involved in Drew’s death, although Woody was hoping to cash in on the money. I don’t think you should worry about them.”
“Then how about Owen Walsh. He said some nasty things at the funeral. Drew never explained why there was bad blood between the two of them, but he had told me to keep away from him.”
Deena started to explain about the stolen vines, when she was saved by the bell...literally.
“Who could that be?” Allison turned toward the front door. When the doorbell ring was followed by a knock, she got up to see who it was.
Deena took that moment to retrieve the note from her bag. No use putting it off any longer. She needed to tell Allison the truth.
When Allison opened the front door, Barbara Potts from next door stood there holding a plate covered in aluminum foil and proceeded to push her way into the house. “Well, hello again,” she said to Deena. Then she turned back to Allison. “I didn’t know you had company, dear.”
Deena offered up a little wave. Of course, the woman knew Allison had company since Deena’s car was parked right out front.
“I brought you over a little something to eat.” Barbara pulled back the foil to reveal a plate of four cat hair-covered cinnamon rolls that looked ready for the garbage bin. She glanced around. “I see you’re having coffee. These will go perfectly. Let me just pour myself a cup and I’ll put these on some plates. This way to the kitchen, right?”
“None for me,” Deena called out a bit too anxiously. She shot a frightened look at Allison and shook her head ever so slightly.
“Me either,” Allison chimed in. “But thanks.”
When Barbara was out of earshot, Deena whispered to Allison, “I have something I need to show you.” She handed her the note and watched Allison’s face as she read.
Her eyes began to tear up and she covered her mouth to stifle a cry. When she finished, she looked up at Deena. “Where did you get this?”
“Lonnie found it in Drew’s office. Is that his handwriting?”
Allison looked back at the note and nodded. “So he did...kill himself.”
Deena patted the grieving widow on the back. “It sure sounds that way.”
Barbara came in and plopped down on the chair opposite the two women on the sofa. Allison shoved the note at Deena, who stuck it back in her handbag.
Not totally blind to her neighbor’s grief, Barbara set the plate of furry pastry down on the coffee table. “Now, dear, you mustn’t let this keep upsetting you. You’re a pretty, young thing. How old are you? Forty? Forty-five? You’ll find another man in no time.”
Deena’s jaw dropped. Not only was Allison in her early thirties, her husband wasn’t even in the ground yet. So much for grief counseling.
Barbara continued. “I mean, I know you’re lonely now, but that won’t last long. Besides, you can do better than a man like Andrew Granger. Best thing about him was his money.” Barbara sipped her coffee.
The tension rose in Allison’s face. Deena put an arm across her stiffening shoulders and said, “Now, Barbara, that’s not very kind.”
“Kind? Allison knows what I’m talking about. Since he’s been dead, she hasn’t had to call the police over here even one time.”
Allison gasped and put her hand to her chest.
“I know, dear,” Barbara said. “You thought it was a secret. You even had them park down the street sometimes, but I saw. You don’t have to worry about him beating you or bullying you or Lord knows what, ever again.”
Allison’s face reddened and she looked like a balloon about to pop.
“Why don’t you go in the bedroom and pull yourself together.” Deena hoisted her off the sofa. “I’ll explain things to Barbara for you.” She practically pushed Allison down the hallway.
When Deena returned, Barbara had more to say. “Did I say something wrong? I was just pointing out how that nice Officer Linndorf hasn’t come around even once since her husband shot himself. If he shot himself, that is. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Allison did him in herself and just made it look like a suicide. Could you blame her? Men are the worst.”
Just then a shrill scream came from the other side of the house. It was Allison. Had she seen a mouse? Stumbled across another dead body? Deena froze as she faced one of those fight or flight moments. Her first thought was to run. What if Allison was looking down the barrel of a gun held by an intruder? But then her mama-bear instinct kicked in and she ran toward the hallway and smack into Allison.
“What on earth is it?” Deena held the woman’s arms and looked her over for stab wounds.
Allison, grinning like a Cheshire cat, held up her cell phone. “That was Eric Lyons. He found a loophole. I’m going to get the estate after all!” She did a little happy dance.
“Congratulations!” Barbara said, holding a half-eaten cinnamon roll in her hand.
Deena felt light-headed and her knees buckled. Luckily, Allison caught her and helped her to the sofa.
“Are you okay, dear?” Barbara asked. “Maybe you just need a bite to eat.” She offered up a cinnamon roll.
Deena held up her hand in protest. “No. I’m fine.” The truth was that between standing up too quickly and seeing the disgusting pastry in Barbara’s mouth, she nearly lost her breakfast. She put her hand on her stomach to quiet it down.
“You gave me a scare,” Allison said as she stood over Deena. “I thought you were going to faint.”
“Me too,” Barbara said as she licked icing from her fingers. She stuck out her tongue and scraped off a hair. “For a minute, I thought you were the one pregnant instead of Allison.”
Allison spun around. “What? Listen here, both of you. I. Am. Not. Pregnant. And I’d appreciate if you’d both leave. Now.”
Deena was halfway to the door when she heard Barbara send up one last parting blow to Allison. “You sure are acting high and mighty for someone who may have murdered her husband. You’re going to wish you had friends like Mrs. Sharpe and me when the truth comes out.”
Chapter 25
Well, that didn’t go as planned. Deena wasn’t sure whether to drive to the police station to show the suicide note to Guttman or just go home and crawl under the covers with her dog, Hurley. She pulled into a gas station to fill up her car and think.
As she got out, a police car with lights flashing pulled in behind her. If that’s Officer Linndorf, I’m definitely going home.
It wasn’t. It was his former partner, Clay Hitchcock, the guy who had signed off on Linndorf’s investigation of Drew’s death.
“Mrs. Sharpe,” he said and tipped his hat. “Didn’t realize that was you.”
She doubted that.
Was she now being harassed by law enforcement? She had heard of cases where journalists were targeted for criticizing the police department, but she never dreamed it would happen to her.
“What is it, Officer Hitchcock? I wasn’t speeding. Are you going to ticket me for going too slow?”
The policeman looked like a confused puppy. “What? No. You have a brake light out.”
“Sure I do.”
“No, really. Look.” He opened her car door and put his foot inside to apply the brake.
She walked around to the rear of her car. Sure enough, the left light did not come on. This really wasn’t her best day. “Sorry. I’ll get it fixed as soon as possible.”
“I wasn’t going to write you a citation.” He scribbled on a pad and then tore off the paper and handed it to her. “Here’s a warning. You have twenty-four hours to get it fixed.” He tipped his hat again and grumbled as he walked back to his car, “Have a nice day.”
Deena looked at the police car and had a hunch. “Officer Hitchcock, were you ever called out to the Granger house over a domestic dispute?”
“No. Never.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Why?”
She pulled the gas hose off the cradle and stuck the nozzle in her tank. Then she walked up to the police car. “Do you know where I can find Officer Linndorf right now?”
“Right now, you should be heading to a mechanic to get that brake light fixed.”
Deena rolled her eyes. “Come on. I just want to ask him a few questions.”
“This is about Andrew Granger, am I right?”
“Right.”
“Look, Mrs. Sharpe, I was there in the house after that guy shot himself. It wasn’t a homicide. It was suicide. Textbook case.” He pulled a toothpick out of parts unknown and stuck it in his mouth.
“Then what’s the harm of asking a few questions?” She tried to bat her eyes, but it looked more like a nervous tick.
“Reporters. Sheesh.” He rolled the toothpick with his tongue as he eyed her suspiciously. Finally, he gave up the stare-down. “He should be over on Pecan and Third.”
She grinned. “The speed trap by the liquor store?”
“That’s the place.”
Deena thanked him and finished putting gas in her car as he drove away. While she stood next to the pump, she felt her strength return. Textbook case, huh? Once a teacher, always a teacher; and she was about to add a whole new chapter to that textbook. If her theory was right, this case was about to blow wide open.
* * *
WHEN SHE GOT TO THE intersection, she spotted Linndorf’s police cruiser parked right next to the liquor store where she expected it to be. But the officer wasn’t in it. She pulled in front of the store and went inside. A quick glance around told her Linndorf wasn’t there. She asked the man behind the counter.
“Check out back,” he said, motioning with his thumb toward the alley. “He’s probably with those kids from the neighborhood.”
Deena walked around to the rear of the store. As it turned out, those “kids” were teenagers who should have had better things to do than play ball in the middle of a school day.
Linndorf stood on a flattened cardboard box that served as a pitching mound. One of the boys had a catcher’s mitt and punched it with his fist. “Come on, cop, put it here.” He held up the glove.
Crouched over the catcher was another boy aiming a radar gun at Officer Linndorf, who checked the imaginary bases and then went into his windup. The ball sailed into the target, hitting the catcher’s mitt with a loud smack.
“Wowzer!” the boy with the radar gun shouted. “That was your best one yet, cop. Seventy-two miles an hour.”
Linndorf grinned as the catcher threw back the ball. Then he caught sight of Deena standing next to the building. “Scram, fellows. I’ll catch up with you later.” As the boys took off, Linndorf turned to Deena. He stuck out his chin defiantly. “Can I help you, Mrs. Sharpe?”
“Just wondering if you’ve seen anyone around here contributing to the delinquency of minors?”
“Very funny.” He brushed past her, picked up the radar gun, and put it in his car. “What do you want? I’ve got work to do.”
“I can see that.” How else was he planning to waste the taxpayers’ money? “I wanted to talk to you about the Granger case.”
Linndorf folded his long legs and got in the car. “Talk to Guttman. It’s out of my hands.”
“Okay. I’ll tell him you were the one having an affair with Allison Granger.”
“What?” He got out and slammed the door. He hurried over and grabbed Deena’s elbow, leading her back to the alley. “Who told you that?”
“You did just now by your reaction.”
His eyes grew dark and his brows sank deep over his lids. “It’s not true.”
“Yes it is. That’s why the neighbor kept seeing your car over there all the time. Was it for twilight rendezvous or afternoon delights?”
“Who told you? Allison?”
“Let’s just say a little bird told me. And what a coincidence that you were the first officer on the scene when Drew was shot.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she felt another sinking feeling. Could Linndorf have something to do with Drew’s death? No. It was a suicide. She had the proof in her purse.
But why was she confronting him in a blind alley on the wrong side of town? She needed to get out of there. With no real plan, she turned and started hurrying toward the side of the building.
“Wait!” Linndorf grabbed her arm. His hand went to his gun. He rested it there. “I need to think.”
His grip on her arm was strong. She wanted to scream but felt her throat tighten. It was like one of her nightmares where she would try to yell for help, but no words would come out. Then she pulled her arm and he let her go.
He was breathing heavy now. “If you say anything, I’ll lose my job.” He began to pace. “What have I done? What have I done?”
Deena wanted to tell him that he got tangled up in a homicide investigation and hadn’t been honest about his relationship with the victim’s wife. Instead, she made a dash for safety.
“Wait!” he yelled again. “I’m coming, too.”
What? Standing next to her car, she dug in her purse for the keys. What was he saying?
“Let me tell Guttman first. Maybe he’ll go easier on me.” Linndorf got in his car and sped off.
Deena found her keys and stood there for a moment in disbelief. Was he really going to the station to confess to hanky panky, or was this just a really weird dream?
Chapter 26
Deena stood at the counter inside the police station and asked to speak to Detective Guttman. She remembered the pretty female officer from her last visit on another case. Now that Deena was a crime reporter, she assumed they might be getting to know each other well.
The woman picked up the phone and made a call. Holding the receiver slightly away from her ear, she nodded and hung up. She leaned toward the opening in the glass partition. “Detective Guttman said he’s in a meeting and wasn’t to be disturbed.”
“He’ll want to talk to me, trust me.”
The phone rang again. The woman said, “Yes, sir,” and buzzed Deena through. She led Deena to Guttman’s office, then said, “I don’t know what you did, ma’am, but I sure wish you luck in there.”
When Deena went inside, Officer Linndorf was leaning against the wall with his hat in his hand. He looked smaller than he had in the alley. He kept his eyes lowered.
Guttman grunted a greeting and motioned for Deena to sit. “Off the record. Understand?” He glared across his desk at her.
“Hmm. I’m not so sure I can agree to that.” She stroked her chin with an exaggerated flourish as she contemplated the request.
Guttman was in no mood for games. “Either that, or get out.”
“Off the record.”
Guttman sat back in his chair authoritatively. “It’s my understanding that you know somet
hing about the Granger case that has just come to light. I want us to get everything out in the open so there are no more allegations of mishandling of the case. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Deena and Linndorf said in unison.
Guttman slapped a file folder on his desk. “Officer Linndorf has stated that he was having an affair with Mrs. Granger at the time of Mr. Granger’s death. Obviously, we frown on our officers consorting and such, but that’s beside the point.”
“Is it?” Deena picked up her handbag and set it in her lap. “It would seem to be very much the point.”
Guttman puffed out his chest as though he were the Big Bad Wolf about to blow her house down. “What I mean is that the more serious matter involves Officer Linndorf’s investigation of the scene. He should have recused himself and let another officer take the lead. That’s policy.” He turned to Linndorf and addressed him like a drill sergeant. “State the policy number, Officer Linndorf!”
Larry scratched his head. “Uh...number three-something?”
Guttman’s face reddened. “How could you have already forgotten? I just read it to you out of the handbook!”
Larry looked down at his feet again. “Sorry, sir. I guess I’m a little worn out. It’s been a bad day.”
Guttman was about to blow. “A bad day? Are you kidding me? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I made a mistake. It’s just that she was so pretty and every time I went to the bank to cash a check, she would flirt with me. You know how it is with us guys. What was I supposed to do?”
Guttman, exasperated, slapped his hand on his forehead.
Deena turned to Linndorf. “You know what the real problem is here, don’t you?”
He fumbled with his hat. “No, what?”
“Direct deposit. You should never have to go to the bank these days unless you need to take out a loan. Even that can probably be done online.”
Guttman rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious,” she said with a wicked grin. “My husband does all our finances on the computer. He could show you how.”
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 27