The Labor Day Murder

by Lee Harris

  “Did he tell you what he was in for?”

  “It was nothing, pilfering or something. You know, shoplifting.” She made it sound very mild, very offhand, as though everybody did it but poor Billy had gotten caught.

  “Mrs. Holland, do you remember the date?”

  “Oh yeah. It was Tina’s birthday, September twenty-second.”

  “And the year? If we know the day and the year, we may be able to find out who he was.”

  “Let me think a minute.” She went into the kitchen and came back with a piece of paper with numbers written on it in pencil. She handed it to me. “I could be off by a year, but try this. I think Tina was five that day.”

  “So you knew him for a few years.”

  “A few years. That was it.”

  “Thanks for telling me. I’ll keep you posted, and if you remember anything else or find anything with his name on it, please let me know.”

  “And the earring,” she said.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  26

  It turned out I hadn’t been there very long. I found a place to stop and eat lunch, and then I got back in the car and just drove without stopping till I got to Elsie’s. Eddie was still sleeping, but he woke up while Elsie and I were talking and I gathered him up and took off, but not before he pointed a little finger at Elsie and said, “Doe.”

  I corrected him and tried to get him to say her name but about all I got was a hiss. But hearing the attempt, she was thrilled. And he had pulled himself up on his two feet a couple of times for her, so she was ecstatic at his progress.

  The first thing I did when we got home was to call Jack to tell him about Bill Jamieson’s stay at Trenton State, but Jack was off on a call so I had to leave a message, knowing he probably wouldn’t get back to me in time for him to make a call to the prison.

  Then I called Mel, who had just come home from school.

  “Are you inviting me over or am I inviting you?” she said with her customary exuberance.

  “I’m inviting you, just in case Jack gets back to the station house and gives me a call. I have something important to tell him.”

  “Chris, I can’t believe it. You’re doing it again. We’ll be there in ten. I hope my sweetie is awake.”

  “Awake and doing new tricks.”

  “I can’t waste time talking. Good-bye.”

  I laughed as I hung up. Not being the most outgoing person in the world, I have been grateful since I moved into this house that the luck of proximity gave me Mel as a neighbor. She does all kinds of things that I believe I can’t do, and she does them with energy and enthusiasm and absolute perfection. She comes by it very honestly. I believe to this day that I would never have bought myself a wedding dress if it hadn’t been for her mother, who took me under her wing and saw to it that everything was done and done right.

  “Eddie,” I said to my little son in his playpen, “Mel is coming. And Sari and Noah are coming, too. They’re coming to see you.”

  He smiled as though what I had said made sense, and then he babbled and went back to his toys. As I went to unlock the door, I heard the Gross gang.

  We hugged as she entered, and then I gave each of the children a hug and kiss as Mel went to the playpen to see Eddie.

  “He’s standing,” she shrieked. “Chris, you didn’t tell me. Eddie’s standing.” Mel lifted him up as I got there and gave him a million kisses, making him giggle.

  We talked about his new accomplishments for a while and then got on to better things. Mel had brought brownies, baked yesterday (“It was Sunday and we weren’t going anywhere”), so I boiled some water for tea, the two of us sitting in the kitchen, leaving the kids to themselves in the family room.

  “How’s teaching?” I asked.

  “I have the most fabulous class. They are such darlings. I think this will be my best semester ever. They’re bright and clever and they’re just a pleasure. When do you go back?”

  “Tomorrow morning. I’m really looking forward to it. Eddie loves Elsie and he won’t miss me one long morning a week.”

  “And you’ll get out and feel like a human being and use your brain and come back happy.”

  “You’re right. I’m glad I didn’t give it up. I was even thinking about taking on a second class next semester.”

  “You can’t do that,” Mel said with horror.

  “Why not?”

  “The American justice system will fall apart. Murders will go unsolved; criminals will go unjudged and unpunished.” She looked so serious I was afraid to smile.

  “This can’t go on forever, Mel,” I said reasonably.

  “Why not? You’ve got yourself a nice little reputation and even if you don’t stumble on bodies yourself, figuratively, if not literally, people will come to you. They already have. They’re not going to stop.”

  “Mel, you are the original ego booster.”

  “No. I just speak the truth. Look, I’m sure you’re a great teacher. I love hearing about your classes and your students. But you have other gifts and you must continue to use them. It’s why you left the convent. Which reminds me, have you talked to Sister Joseph about all this?”

  “She came out for twenty-four hectic but terrific hours, and we interviewed a bunch of people together.”

  “She must have loved that,” Mel said. “Of course, I would love it, too, being right there in the center of the action, but it’s not my calling. It’s yours, friend.”

  “Oh Mel,” I said, for at least the hundredth time, “what would I do without you?”

  We shared the brownies with the children, not that we had a choice, and I gave Eddie a couple of crumbs that I’m sure made him feel that those awful mushy foods he got at mealtimes should be replaced, and we put aside a couple of squares for the love of my life, who would come home tired and hungry about six hours from now. And we talked.

  “So,” Mel said, “aside from a couple of murders, how was Fire Island and Uncle Max’s house and the beach and all the rest of it?”

  “Incomparable, luxurious, restful, an absolute pleasure. No wonder you look forward to it every summer. And how about your wedding in California?”

  We traded stories as we had come to do as we became friends. Mel had done a fair amount of traveling in her life, something I had not, and I loved hearing about faraway places that we might one day visit, when the days of diapers and teething and strained foods were behind us. I didn’t yearn to see those places; I just felt they were something to look forward to when time and money allowed.

  “We even got to visit some wineries,” Mel said, after telling some wedding tales. “You know how Hal enjoys his wines. I took over the driving at that point, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Well, it’s good to be home and better to see you.”

  “Do you think you know who the killer is?”

  “I don’t, although I have a good suspect. I’m hoping that when Jack calls the prison, he’ll get a list of people who were released on that date. Even if none of the names rings a bell, we’ll have a rough age we can use to identify William Jamieson’s real name. There ought to be a file on him with a hometown and maybe some family names. Maybe even a wife. There’s no reason to believe he was single, even if that’s what he told Sally Holland. He told her he’d been in prison because of what she called pilfering or shoplifting. I doubt whether that was true. I expect he was convicted of something much more serious. And she admitted he’d hit her on occasion. She said all men did that.”

  “Well, she’s got that wrong,” Mel said firmly. “Very wrong. I feel sorry for a woman who thinks that’s part of life with a man.”

  “So do I. But I can tell you, she was very fond of him. You can hear it when she talks about him.”

  “Well, I hope you find the person who killed her daughter.”

  “So do I. He shouldn’t be walking around a free man.”

  —

  I knew before I answered the phone that it was too late for anything to
be done today. Jack said, “I only have a second.”

  I knew he didn’t want to be late for his first class of the semester. “I’ll tell you later.”

  “OK.” Click. And he was off.

  “Later” was after ten that night. After two relaxing weeks, Jack looked totally undone by his first day back at work and at law school classes. Also very hungry. I was glad there were brownies to raise his spirits.

  “Got called out this afternoon and the crime scene unit got stuck in traffic, and I thought I’d have to walk in late on my first class. Not something I look forward to.”

  “Did you make it?”

  “Just.”

  “Tell me when it’s OK to talk.”

  He gave me a smile. “Talk, honey. It’s easier to listen.”

  “William Jamieson did time in Trenton State.”

  “Now that’s talkin’. Go on.”

  “Sally Holland almost didn’t tell me. But she knew the date he got out. It was Tina’s birthday.”

  “Not bad. I really didn’t think you’d get much out of her, or at least, not much that would be useful. I’ll call the prison tomorrow and see what they come up with. How long ago did he get out?”

  “Most likely eighteen years ago. She thought she could be off on the year but not on the date.”

  “They’ll have to do a manual search. It’s too long ago for the file to be on computer. I’ll get a list of everyone who got out that day and we’ll see who fits the description. He was in his twenties. That’s about all we know about him. She didn’t know his real name?”

  “He never told her. She didn’t know he was in prison till they became friends. She said he only told her because he trusted her. But she picked him up at a bus stop the day he got out of prison. So he was using the name Jamieson right from the beginning.”

  “Which means he had someone on the outside who arranged the new identity. Maybe got him a Social Security card and a driver’s license. That’s a good friend, or a wife or girlfriend.”

  “Or a dad.” I handed him the letter.

  “Buzzy. Look at that, no return address, no one referred to by name. They were being very careful.” He put his fork down and finished reading the letter. “He could have maintained two separate identities for a while after he got out. For his new friends, for his employer, he was Bill Jamieson. But if he got out of Trenton State, he had to see a parole officer for some period of time. So for that, he used his real name. He goes to see the probation officer and the guy never knows there’s a second identity. When Jamieson’s clean, he chucks his old name completely.”

  “Sounds easy.”

  “It is when you’ve got help on the outside. He probably met the guy with the papers or picked them up at a post office box somewhere.”

  “Jack.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I just realized. Dodie Murchison didn’t call.” I was suddenly feeling clammy. “She said she’d call tonight.” I looked at my watch. “I wonder if she’s all right.”

  “She didn’t give you a number, did she?”

  “Nothing. She said she’d call.” I went to the phone and tried her home number. Nothing. I left a message on the machine and hung up. “I’ll call her office tomorrow. I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t either, but there’s nothing we can do. Her car’s already in the alarms and if she has any sense, she’s driving a friend’s car or a rental.”

  “She asked me to talk to Sally Holland. She wouldn’t forget to call and find out what happened.”

  “Someone could’ve followed you to Greenwillow last night.”

  “Mr. Hershey,” I said. “My God. I hope she’s all right.”

  27

  I wasn’t in the best shape Tuesday morning. Jack promised to call Trenton State as soon as he got to the station house, and to make sure that he got it done before he caught a case, he left a little early. I was ready early myself because I had to pack Eddie off to Elsie and get to the college in time to pick up my class list and all the tons of notices that were always in my box, instructions on everything from where to park to how to fill out the new, very necessary forms that appeared at the start of each new school year.

  There had been no word from Dodie and I was scared. When I got to the college, I called her law firm and asked for her. I was told by a crisp young female voice that Ms. Murchison was on vacation and I was welcome to leave a message. I didn’t.

  Maybe it was nothing but I couldn’t accept that. Dodie was no fool. She wanted to know who had killed Ken Buckley and Tina Frisch so that she would be off the hook. It was possible, as Jack suggested, that her disappearance was an indication that much that she had told me was false, that she, in fact, had killed both of them and that sending me on a wild goose chase had just given her another twenty-four hours to effect her disappearance.

  The other possibility was, as Jack had also suggested, that someone had followed me—or Jack—on Sunday night to Greenwillow and had seen Dodie drive up, go in, and leave. And then he had followed her because, if she had been the last person to talk to Tina, she might know what Tina knew, who the killer of Ken Buckley was.

  There was also the chance that she had been picked up somehow by the police, perhaps for speeding, and a check determined that she was wanted for questioning in a homicide case. If that had happened, having Tina’s diamond earring in her purse wasn’t going to help her case.

  It was a good thing I had done all this before. I found my class assignment and my room, met all the new students and began to commit their names to memory. Some of them had the book, others didn’t. Nothing new there. One thought this was an advanced class and left. Another found this wasn’t the class she was assigned to, but she decided to stay and see whether she liked it. I even managed to get some teaching done when all the bookkeeping was taken care of.

  When it was over, I dropped off my attendance list at the registrar and hurried to the cafeteria for a quick lunch. Then I drove home to see if Jack had called.

  There was a message from him on the machine: “Talked to a guy at Trenton State just now. He’ll get back to me later today with the list of names of people released on that date. Sorry I couldn’t do anything sooner but you know how it is. I also called Chief Springer and asked if Dodie Murchison had been found. He said she hadn’t turned up and he figures she’s out of the country by now. Give me a call when you get home.”

  I called but he wasn’t there, so I did my shopping before driving over to Elsie’s to pick up Eddie. If any police department had arrested Dodie for any reason, her name would have come up on their computer as wanted in Suffolk County. So it was a pretty good bet that she was still at large—or being held somewhere by a killer.

  All kinds of ideas were dancing in my head as I got Eddie out of the car and into the house. I put him safely in the playpen and then went back out for my bags of groceries. It took two trips and when I came inside for the last time, the phone was ringing. I literally dropped the bags and ran.

  “Chris?” my husband’s voice said.

  “Just a little out of breath. What’ve you got?”

  “The name we’ve been looking for.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Five men were released from Trenton State that day. Two were in their forties, one in his thirties, two in their twenties. A twenty-six-year-old was black, so I figured that was a long shot. The other guy—are you ready for this?”

  “Ready. Tell me.”

  “The last guy was named Richard Springer, nickname Buzz or Buzzy.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Right. So our friend Curt Springer knew his brother had gone to Fire Island and was never heard of again and he got the police chief job in Blue Harbor a couple of years later, probably so he could investigate his brother’s disappearance in his spare time. It also explains how Buzzy got out of prison with a new identity. A cop—and Curt was a cop somewhere or other before he got this job—would know exactly how to get him the papers he’d ne
ed to start a new life.”

  “Jack, I’m afraid he may have killed Dodie.”

  “OK, listen to me. I’ve just called the sheriff’s office in Suffolk County. They’re up to speed on the Buckley and Frisch homicides. I’m going to take the night off from my classes and go out to Blue Harbor and try to talk to Curt. He kind of liked me and maybe I can talk him into telling me where Dodie is. It’s two days since you saw her. If he hasn’t killed her, she may not last much longer.”

  “You can’t take off the time from your classes, Jack,” I said.

  “This is life and death.”

  “I’ll do it. I’ll call Elsie to come right away. She can stay over if I don’t get back in good time.”

  “Chris, I don’t think that’s such a—”

  “Jack, if you miss the second night of classes—”

  “OK, OK. I’ll call the deputy back and let him know. But I don’t like this.”

  I assured him I could handle it, more to hear myself say it than to tell him what he already knew. He gave me the name of the deputy and all the information I would need.

  When I got off the phone, I called Elsie, who said she would come right over, and then Deputy Shrager, who said he would meet me at the ferry as soon as I could get there.

  It would be up to me to coax Curt Springer into disclosing where Dodie Murchison was being held. If he had her, and she was still alive.

  —

  I had thrown a change of clothes into a small bag. I am a day person, not a night person, and I fade fast after dark, so I didn’t look forward to driving home late at night. By the time I got to the Bay Shore ferry slip, it was close to six. It took no time to find Deputy Shrager; he had been looking out for me for half an hour.

  “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Brooks,” he said. “We’ve been looking everywhere we can think of that a person could be hidden, but we’ve come up with nothing. There’s a ferry leaves here in about ten minutes. One of our people is already in Blue Harbor and we’re in contact. Springer’s in his office. Your husband’s given us the whole story. We’d just like you to sweet-talk Springer, see if he’ll tell you where the Murchison woman is. Tell him anything you want. We just want to find her alive. We want to make a case against Springer, but she’s our first priority.”