Stay Sharpe Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

  Kitty agreed.

  Deena purposely didn’t tell the girl where Clay was because she needed to feel her out first and see her reaction to the news that one of the signatures on the wills could be fake.

  But which one?

  * * *

  KITTY WAS WAITING IN her car again when Deena pulled up. Deena sat still and Kitty walked over to her.

  “Get in,” Deena said.

  She sat down and closed the door. “Why did you want to meet here? Am I in trouble?”

  “Depends.” Deena pulled the documents out of her purse and gave them to the girl. “Did you forge your grandfather’s signature on the will?”

  “No,” she said calmly but with an edge of annoyance. “I told you I was at the bank with Granddad when he had the papers notarized.”

  “At the bank? You didn’t mention that the notary was done at the bank.” The wheels in Deena’s head spun like a lock on a safe. Marcie would have access to the notary and could even get the notary to authorize the papers without the signee being there. Wasn’t that what friends were for?

  Kitty turned in her seat to look straight at Deena. “Did that art teacher say the signature was forged?”

  “He wasn’t sure.” Deena wasn’t ready to explain. She wanted to hear what Clay had to say first. “I have some news. Clay is here. He turned himself in.”

  Kitty’s eyes widened to the size of doughnuts, and she reached for the door handle.

  “Wait,” Deena said. “There’s no guarantee you can see him. I’m going to talk to Detective Guttman and find out what I can. I want you to wait in the lobby. The detective may have some more questions for you too.”

  “Okay,” Kitty said and got out of the car. “If you see him before I do, will you tell him I forgive him?”

  Deena shut the door of her car with a little too much oomph. “Forgive him for what? Murdering your grandfather?”

  “Of course not. I forgive him for running out on me.”

  LINDA MCKENZIE WAS on duty again at the front desk and waved Deena back. “He’s expecting you.”

  That was a good sign. Deena walked to his office door and knocked.

  “Enter!” He sat at his desk with his feet up and his fingers laced behind his head. Officer Hitchcock stood up from his chair and tipped his hat to Deena.

  She noticed their grins. “What are you two so happy about?” She took a seat next to the officer.

  “Just another notch in the old gun belt,” Hitchcock said.

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way,” Guttman said quickly. “It’s not like we killed anyone, but we do think we’re about to close another murder case, thanks in part to you.” He picked up his coffee cup and waved it toward her in a toasting gesture.

  She was surprised, to say the least. “Did Clay Brooks confess?”

  “Yep. He didn’t cop to everything yet, but he admitted to the scam he and his girlfriend pulled with Richard Boxer. Leaving a dead guy on the side of the road is just one step away from murder.” Guttman leaned over and gave Hitchcock a fist bump.

  “But he hasn’t confessed to poisoning Edwin Cooper, right?” Deena blew out a sigh.

  “Not yet, but as it turns out, Santos has a way of getting a person to give up his secrets. It’s just a matter of time. We’re letting Brooks sit awhile and think about it.”

  “Yeah, sweat a little,” Hitchcock added and chewed on a raggedy toothpick.

  “What if I have information that points to another possible suspect?” Deena crossed her legs as though she were the sexy private eye offering a lead to her downtrodden boss. But considering she was wearing slacks and was way past her sexy years, she doubted it would have any effect. She uncrossed them and stood up instead. “Would you be willing to consider it?”

  Guttman’s face turned back to its normal grimace. “Hitchcock. Go get some coffee.”

  “But I don’t need any.”

  “For Mrs. Sharpe.” The edge to his voice was back.

  “Cream and sugar,” Deena said as the officer left the room.

  Guttman rubbed his forehead. “I was having such a good day until you got here.”

  “Sometimes the truth hurts,” she said and took Hitchcock’s chair. “I’ve got Kitty Cooper waiting in the lobby.” She held up her hand. “Before you say anything, I don’t think she was involved in the murder. But she has some other information you should hear.”

  “This better be good,” Guttman said and yelled in his phone to have Kitty brought to his office.

  Kitty came in looking like a frightened puppy. Deena offered her a seat and spoke to her gently. “I know you didn’t want to tell anybody, but I found out there is a second copy of the you-know-what, and you-know-who knows about it.”

  Kitty’s jaw tightened. “Marcie?”

  Deena nodded. “Can we tell Detective Guttman what you found? It’s totally up to you. He has no idea of what we’re talking about.”

  “That’s for sure,” Guttman barked.

  “Okay.” Kitty reached in her purse and pulled out the envelopes and handed them to Guttman. “I found both of these wills in Granddad’s safe deposit box. One is made out to me, but the other one, the most recent one, is made out to Marcie Phillips.”

  Without opening the envelopes, Guttman shot his eyes back to Deena. “And who in tarnation is Marcie Phillips?”

  Just then the door opened and Hitchcock came in. He was obviously surprised to see Kitty. Guttman waved at him to pass the cup to Deena. “Go get another one for Miss Cooper. Now!”

  Hitchcock retreated.

  “Marcie Phillips is—was— a friend of Edwin’s. She lives a block over. She works at the bank.”

  “Is she the one who was letting Brooks hide out at her house?” Guttman asked.

  “No, that was Leslie Babcock,” Deena said, forgetting that was news to Kitty.

  The girl let out a yelp.

  Deena continued. “Marcie is the person in charge of safe deposit boxes. But she was gone when Kitty and Clay got to the bank, so Leslie let them in. That was the plan all along actually.”

  By the look on his face, Guttman was a ticking time bomb.

  “Let me simplify this,” Deena said. “Marcie had access to the safe deposit boxes. I had a friend of mine examine both wills, and it might be that the one made out to Marcie is a fake. That would be a motive for murder. Also, she lives nearby, which would give her opportunity.”

  Guttman wrote down a few notes. “Are you saying this Marcie Phillips may have forged a will naming herself the beneficiary of Mr. Cooper’s estate and then poisoned him so she could collect?”

  “It’s a possibility. I’m no detective, but I think it’s worth looking at.” Deena sat back in her chair.

  “What else do you know about this woman?” He looked at Kitty.

  She held up her hands. “I don’t even know her. She started taking my grandfather to bingo on Friday nights. He liked talking to her when he went to the bank. That’s all I know.”

  “And I know she was a little erratic,” Deena added. “On Monday, Gary and I were at the bank and she came storming into the meeting and told the bank’s vice president that she was quitting her job.”

  Guttman raised an eyebrow and shot Deena a wicked grin. “Are you saying that a person who can’t seem to stay at one job is erratic? Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

  Deena tossed off the remark. “It’s what she did next that was odd. She called Gary the next day to apologize. She said she’d just had a bad day and was back on the job.”

  “Hmm.” Guttman tapped his fingers on the desk. “What would make someone quit their job one day and then ask for it back the next?”

  “Monday,” Kitty said mournfully. “That’s when Granddad was arrested, and everything turned upside down.”

  “He was arrested for threatening a man’s life with a gun,” Guttman said defensively. “You just can’t do that.”

  A thought hit Deena like a raging bull. “Because Edwi
n thought he was dead,” she said slowly. “Because he read it in the newspaper. So did everyone else. Even Marcie.” She looked at Guttman and could tell he was following her line of thought.

  He nodded, saying, “She quit because she thought she’d just inherited a lot of money.”

  Deena stood up. “And she had to beg for her job back when she found out he was still alive.”

  Kitty jumped up. “Do you think she poisoned him because she was tired of waiting for him to die?”

  Deena and the detective both looked at her sympathetically.

  Kitty balled her fists. “Wait until I get my hands on her! I’ll strangle her!”

  Hitchcock opened the door just then, took one look at the scene in the room, and backed out.

  “Hold on now,” Guttman said. “This is all just a theory. We can’t go jumping to conclusions.”

  Deena coughed into her fist and mumbled, “Pot . . . black.”

  He avoided eye contact. “I still want to talk to Clay Brooks and see what he has to say. And remember, young lady, you aren’t out of the woods yet. There’s still the matter of mishandling of a corpse.” He walked around the desk and opened the door. “Why don’t you go home and relax. I’ll get back in touch with you as soon as our investigation is concluded and I’ve talked to the DA.”

  Deena started to follow Kitty out.

  Guttman held up his hand. “You. Stay.” Pointing to a chair, he added, “We still have work to do.”

  She picked up the coffee and took a big gulp.

  It turned out to be a long night.

  Chapter 27

  “How can you eat at a time like this?” Gary paced the floor of the dining room.

  Deena swallowed a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “I skipped lunch and now I’m jacked up on caffeine. You should sit down and relax.”

  “Relax?” He shook his head. “This is me you’re talking to.”

  “You and everyone else,” Deena said with a twinkle in her eye.

  Gary checked his watch for the umpteenth time. “It’s a little early, but maybe we should go now.”

  Deena held up her sandwich. “I’m still eating. Sit down.”

  Gary pulled out a chair and plopped down, his leg bouncing like a piston in an engine.

  She understood his anxiety but thought he’d be a little more cool-headed than this. “Do you have the flashlights?”

  “Flashlights. Check.”

  “Do you have the whistle?”

  He patted his pants pocket. “Whistle. Check.”

  “Do you have the map?”

  “Map?” He looked at Deena through squinting eyes.

  “Just kidding,” she said. “We’re just taking a walk around the block. It’s just an ordinary neighborhood watch night. Nothing to worry about. It will all be over in twenty minutes. Thirty tops.”

  He looked at her and pointed. “You have crumbs.”

  Deena brushed off the front of her blouse and then carried her plate to the kitchen. She looked down at Hurley. “You have to stay here, boy. We’ll take you next time. If there is a next time.”

  “Very funny,” Gary said. He held up her jacket so she could slip it on. “It’s such a warm night, aren’t you going to be hot in that thing?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  The doorbell rang just then and sent Hurley to barking.

  Gary looked at Deena. “Who could that be?”

  She walked over and opened the front door. “Marcie. Hi.” She glanced back at Gary. “Look, Gary. It’s Marcie.”

  He walked into the foyer. “Hi. I thought we were meeting at your house.”

  “I was just anxious to get started and came on over.” She had her hair up in a bun with the usual ivory sticks, but this time she’d added in a few flowers.

  “Well, then, let’s go.” Deena pulled on Gary’s arm and led him outside. “Be sure to lock the door. There’s no such thing as too much safety.”

  Marcie flipped on her flashlight and Gary gave Deena hers. It was dusk, but there was still a bit of light out.

  Making a face at Deena, Marcie said, “Won’t you be too hot in that jacket?”

  “No. I’m one of those people who’s always cold.” In reality, though, she was just the opposite. She still had hot flashes and always slept with a fan on.

  “You’re lucky,” Marcie said. “I’m menopausal and would walk around naked if it weren’t against the law.”

  “You should never break the law,” Gary said gruffly.

  Deena shot him “the look” and he fell in line behind the two women.

  “Shall we go this way in front of Edwin’s house?” Marcie motioned to the right.

  “No!” Deena said a little too anxiously. “I mean, there are more houses this way.” Even she knew that didn’t make a lot of sense, but Marcie and Gary followed her anyway.

  The two women fell into a nice, steady rhythm, although Gary, with his long man-legs, kept creeping up behind them. “Why don’t you walk ahead of us,” Deena suggested, “and try to slow down.”

  Gary moved into place in front of them.

  “What are we supposed to be doing anyway?” Deena aimed her flashlight at Mr. Hadley’s car and bent down to see under it. “Looking for cat burglars?”

  “No,” Gary said. “We are making our presence known so people know the neighborhood is being watched. It’s just a deterrent.”

  “That seems boring.” Deena looked over at Christy Ann’s house, worried she might be looking out the window and want to come over to talk. But the house looked dark.

  “I’ll tell you something that’s boring,” Marcie said. “Working in a bank all day. Smiling and pretending you care about other people’s business. I’m so tired of it. I want to travel and see new places. Have new experiences.”

  Deena aimed her flashlight at Gary’s back, making little figure eights. “If you could pick one place in the world to visit, where would it be?”

  Marcie pointed to her head. “Three guesses.”

  Deena thought a minute. “A Chinese food buffet?”

  “No, silly. Japan.”

  They had reached the corner. Gary turned and said flatly, “Let’s go this way so Deena can see where you live.”

  “Good idea, hon.” Deena waved her flashlight in that direction. They passed the houses at the end of the block and made their way back up the next street over. Deena hadn’t realized how much of a slant the street had taken and began to feel her calves burn as she headed up what felt like a mountain. Beads of sweat dripped down her back, and she was dying to pull the jacket off. Although her mouth was dry, she managed to ask, “What got you so interested in Japan?”

  Marcie seemed to have no trouble with the walk. “Back a hundred years ago when I was still married, my husband and I got into community theater—I had a double major in theater and voice in college. We tried out for The Mikado. I got the role of Peep-Bo and my husband was Pooh-Bah. It was so much fun. Of course, who knew years later he would run off with Yum-Yum.”

  “In the musical or in real life?”

  “Real life.”

  Hmm. That could explain the woman’s performance at the bank. She really was an actress. Deena could see a white van parked near the end of the block and knew they were getting close.

  “That’s me,” Marcie said and pointed to a red brick colonial-style house. “That’s my humble abode. I’d ask you in, but the place is a mess.”

  Deena smacked her forehead. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you let Gary take a look at the lawn mower while we’re here? He’s super handy with machinery, right, dear?”

  “Yes, I’d be glad to.” Gary couldn’t have sounded any less enthusiastic if he’d tried.

  “No, that’s okay. I’m probably getting a new one anyway.”

  “Oh?” Deena said and put her hand on her hip. “Really?” She tried to sound suspicious, like when she used to question her students who had copied another kid’s homework. Hopefully, Marcie would figure
out she was referencing Edwin’s will.

  Marcie’s eyes fluttered. “Oh well, I guess it couldn’t hurt. Maybe I can donate this one to the thrift shop.” She punched in numbers on the code box, the garage door went up, and she turned on the light.

  Inside were the usuals: her car, gardening tools, bins, boxes, and the lawn mower. Gary set down his flashlight, walked over to it, and kicked a tire. “This one is pretty old.”

  Deena walked up behind him. “Why don’t you check the fluid and the spark plugs, dear?”

  “Good idea. You never want your mower to get low on anti—I mean, oil.”

  Deena turned and looked at Marcie. “Marcie, dear, could I trouble you for some ice water? My mouth is just so dry. Oh, and maybe an old rag for Gary to clean his hands with?”

  “Sure,” she said. She sounded a little put out but went inside anyway.

  “Quick!” Deena whispered. “Look for the antifreeze.”

  They scrambled around, pushing aside boxes and plastic tubs. Why were there so many boxes? Was she planning on moving? Deena bent down to examine a large trash barrel filled with newspapers and an old blanket. “Bingo,” she yelled and pulled the oily bottle out of the trash. They heard footsteps and she quickly buried it again. Glancing at Gary, she mouthed, “Your hands,” and held hers up.

  Gary got the message and reached down to wipe his palm across the outside of the filthy mower. Deena knew it killed him to do so and was proud of him.

  Marcie opened the door and came out with three bottles of water and a cloth.

  Deena took two of the waters and the rag. “Thanks.” She tossed the rag over the top of the car to Gary, who started smearing the grease onto both hands.

  Marcie walked around and gave him the bottle of water. “What do you think, doc? Can you save her?”

  “Um, yeah, sure.” He opened the bottle and chugged the whole thing.

  “But you’ll need your tools and daylight, right, dear?” Deena stared at her husband.

  “Right.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to do it now,” Marcie said as she walked out of the garage. “We still have four more blocks to cover.”