“I can deal with that. Where’s Aunt Maggie?”
“She blew in with a load of merchandise, took advantage of the sandwich stuff we bought, and blew back out on another expedition. She said she’d be eating at the auction house tonight, so we should get dinner on our own.”
I stuck one manicured hand in front of his face. “What do you think?”
He kissed it absently and turned to a fresh page. “You have lovely hands.”
“I got my nails done.”
He inspected my hand more closely. “So you did. Very nice.” He kept on writing.
Gladys would be much distressed. Maybe I should have gone for the Mauve Amber Frost.
I joined him on the bed. “I know you’ve been busy with that syllabus,” I said, keeping a straight face when he looked at me suspiciously, “but do you have any idea of where we should go next?”
He put down the pad with a show of reluctance and said, “Not really. Obviously the killer had access to the mill.”
“That doesn’t help much. Almost anyone in town could have gotten into the mill. Either they work there now, or they used to work there, or someone in their family works there.”
“Aren’t the doors locked on the weekend?”
“Sure, but anyone who’s a supervisor or higher gets a key. Since they haven’t been all that strict with changing locks when someone retires or leaves, they just keep making more copies to hand out. There’s no telling how many keys are floating around town. Paw still had his key—that’s how he’d get in to pick up socks.”
“What about the guard at the gate?”
“I already thought about that. There’s a hole in the fence in the back of the mill. Odelle told me about it, and I bet it’s one of those open secrets that everyone knows about. Except Burt Walters, of course.”
“Why do they bother to post a guard at all?” Richard asked, sounding exasperated.
I shrugged. “I suppose they’d do something more about security if they had to, but it’s never been a problem.”
“So anybody could have been there laying in wait for him,” Richard said slowly, but then added, “There’s a question—how did the murderer know Paw was going to be at the mill? He didn’t have set times to pick up socks, did he?”
“No.”
“What if he was there already? What if Paw saw something at the mill he wasn’t supposed to see, and was killed so he couldn’t tell anyone?”
“Like what?”
“Theft, drug dealing, an illicit rendezvous. What if someone has a secret cache of heroin hidden among the finished cloth, and sends out the drugs along with the regular shipments?”
It had a certain appeal, but I shook my head. “Much as I would like to cast Burt Walters as a drug mogul, I don’t think it works.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t know the mill. Everyone there knows what everyone else is up to. Most of these people have known each other since they were children, and their parents are friends, and their grandparents. You can’t keep a secret there.”
Richard didn’t look convinced.
“Could you deal drugs out of the English department at Boston College without someone noticing something?”
He relented. “Probably not.”
“It’s the same thing. Besides, we know that Paw was worried about something before he went to the mill.”
“Otherwise he wouldn’t have finished that batch of socks so quickly, and he wouldn’t have needed more to pull. You’re right.”
“There’s still the Melanie Wilson angle.”
“No offense, but I’m not convinced Paw’s death had anything to do with Melanie’s. Just because there are two murders in a short span of time doesn’t mean that they’re connected.”
“I’m not completely convinced myself,” I admitted. “I am sure Paw was worried about something, and that newspaper was the only thing out of place around here. Paw was such a man of habit.”
“Maybe there was something else in the paper that we missed. Do we still have it?”
“It’s around here somewhere.” I rummaged around in the stuff on the dresser until I found it, and handed it to Richard.
“This news is old enough, yet it is every day’s news.’ Measure for Measure,” he said. Knowing that he hated anyone to read over his shoulder, I gave him a few minutes and then asked, “So? Any other likely candidates?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said shaking his head. “There was a very successful May Fair last week, the high school has snared someone I’ve never heard of as their commencement speaker, and the agenda for the next Town Council meeting includes debate over adding two traffic signals.”
“I can’t imagine Paw losing sleep over any of those. All that leaves us is Melanie.”
“Assuming that the paper is connected at all, that is.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “What if Paw saw something Friday night, and the murderer killed him to keep him quiet?”
“So where does the newspaper come in?”
“Maybe he didn’t know that Melanie had disappeared until he saw the paper Sunday morning. She went missing late Friday night, so it wouldn’t have made it into the paper until then.”
“As much of an uproar as it caused, don’t you think someone might have mentioned it to him? Not to mention television and radio news.”
I thought about it. “Actually, that fits even better. Whatever it was that Paw saw, it couldn’t have been too obvious. If he had seen someone dragging off a screaming girl, he would have jumped in with both feet. He must have seen something subtle that he didn’t connect with the murder until he read that story in Sunday’s paper.”
“It’s possible,” Richard conceded. “Do we have any idea of where Paw might have gone Friday night?”
“No, but we might be able to figure it out.” I located the local road map Richard had found and unfolded it in front of him. “Now here’s Paw’s house,” I said, pointing to the spot on the map. “And here’s the area where Melanie’s body was found. Now where was the car found again?”
Richard skimmed through the article. “It says they found it on Johnston Road, a mile past the intersection with Highway 321.”
I found the intersection on the map, and followed Johnston Road with my finger. Then I stopped and stared. “Richard, look.” He looked where I was pointing. There was a large red X almost exactly where the police found Melanie’s car.
“Did Paw make that mark?” Richard asked.
“He must have. Aunt Maggie said she hadn’t been downstairs before she and I went down there Monday afternoon.”
“Is it recent?”
I held it close up to my face to look. “I don’t know.”
“Are there any other marks?”
“A bunch,” I admitted. There were Xs and circles in at least three colors marking everything from the flea market Aunt Maggie sold at to the latest location of Aunt Nellie’s and Uncle Ruben’s house trailer to the tobacco shed back behind Paw’s house.
“So how do you know that this one means anything?”
“It has to,” I said stubbornly. “Why else would he have marked that particular spot? There’s not a thing out there.”
“So he was interested in the murder.”
“Interested? When was the last time you marked a murder site on a road map?”
“But it wasn’t the murder site. It was only where the car was left.”
“Whatever it was. He must have known something, or he wouldn’t have marked the map like that. Right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Well I think that this is enough to talk to the police about. The county police are handling the investigation into Melanie’s murder because the car was found outside of Byerly, but I bet Chief Norton will know what’s going on.”
“Should we call the redoubtable Chief Norton?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” I said, reaching for my pocketbook. “Let’s drive over to the police station and see what w
e can find out in person.” Ignoring his protests, I pulled Richard off of the bed and nudged him downstairs and into the car.
Chapter 26
As I drove, Richard asked, “Do you know Chief Norton?”
“Sure. I went to school with Junior.”
“Junior? Sounds like something out of a Burt Reynolds movie? Does he wear mirror shades?”
“Junior is a very good police chief,” I said indignantly. “The Nortons have been police chiefs for generations.”
“Don’t tell me they inherit the post.”
“Nothing that formal. The outgoing chief recommends a replacement, and the mayor and the town council generally go along. It’s not a hotly contested position, so it’s always worked out.”
“Chief Junior Norton,” Richard said, looking amused. “I love the South.”
I didn’t grin, but I wanted to. Richard was going to be more than a little surprised when he met Junior.
The police station was near the middle of town, next to City Hall. As usual in downtown Byerly, there weren’t many people around. A brass bell hung over the door jangled as Richard and I came into the police station, which was mercifully air-conditioned, and a voice called out, “I’ll be right there.”
A minute later, a short woman with curly, brown hair and a sturdy figure stepped out. She was wearing battered, black cowboy boots, khaki pants with navy blue piping, a navy blue short-sleeved shirt, and a badge.
“Hey there Laurie Anne! I heard you were in town. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing all right. Junior, I want you to meet my husband Richard Fleming. Richard, this is Chief Junior Norton.”
Richard didn’t miss a beat. He reached for Junior’s outstretched hand and met her firm grasp with his own, but gave me a look that promised vengeance. I looked innocent. Was it my fault that he had assumed that Junior was a man?
Admittedly Junior’s name had caused confusion before. Her father, Chief Andy Norton, had always wanted a son to carry on the family name and profession, but after his wife had four daughters, he had just about given up hope. Then she got pregnant a fifth time, and Andy swore up and down that this time he was going to get a junior. When the baby turned out to be another girl, he stuck to his word and they named her Junior Norton.
Junior was a tomboy from day one and Andy decided that she’d do just fine as a police chief. Rumor had it that her first words were, “You have the right to remain silent.” She could shoot as soon as she could walk, and could make out parking tickets as soon as she could write.
When Junior was about six, Mrs. Norton got pregnant again, and naturally, this time she had a boy. Now Andy finally had his son, but had already awarded the title of “Junior.” Most men would have been stumped, but not Andy. He promptly named the boy Andrew Norton the Third and gave him Trey as a nickname. Trey was in college now, but he worked as Junior’s deputy during the summer.
“Come on in. Have a seat,” Junior said. “So this is Richard. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your wedding, but I was on duty.”
Of course I knew that she could have gotten time off if she had wanted to, and the real reason she hadn’t come to the wedding was that it would have meant putting on a dress, panty hose, and high heels.
She looked at Richard for a minute, and then nodded. “He’s just as good-looking as everyone said.”
Darned if Richard didn’t blush. “Thank you,” I said for him. “How are you doing, Junior? You’ve been chief for over a year now, haven’t you?”
She nodded. “I like it pretty well.” She looked at Richard. “Did your wife tell you that she’s the reason I got this job? The town council wasn’t real thrilled with the idea of a female police chief and when they found out Daddy was training me as his replacement, they voted in a requirement that the police chief had to have a degree in law enforcement. Now considering I was just barely getting through high school at that point, there was no way I was going to get into any college.
“I got all upset and Daddy got all upset, and he was talking to Laurie Anne’s granddaddy one day, and they figured that since Laurie Anne was such a brain, she could tutor me. We started studying together, and would you believe I turned into a straight-A student?”
“She got better grades than I did,” I added. I never could get anything better than a C in gym class.
“Anyway, I got into college, and when I didn’t flunk out, the town council decided to give me a try after all. All thanks to Laurie Anne.”
“You paid me back. Why don’t you tell Richard how after you and I started studying together, people suddenly stopped picking on me?”
“That’s true,” Junior said with a grin. “They knew that if they didn’t, I would whip their tail ends. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what your granddaddy had in mind all along.” The grin left her face. “I heard about Ellis, Laurie Anne. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.
“Thank you, Junior. Actually, Paw’s the reason we’re here.”
She straightened up in the chair. “Is this an official visit?”
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. You know what happened to Paw, don’t you?”
She nodded, which didn’t surprise me. There wasn’t much that went on in Byerly that Junior didn’t hear about.
“Richard and I went down to the mill this morning to see where they found him,” I said.
“So I heard,” she said, nodding again.
That did surprise me. I hadn’t expected the news to travel that fast. “Let me tell you what I’ve found out.” First I told her what Paw had said in the hospital. Then I told her about talking to Ralph, and the conclusion I had come to.
Junior put both elbows on the desk, and then cradled her head in her hands, just like she used to in high school when I asked her a history question that she was going to have to think about. After a minute or two, she said, “When I was in college, they taught me that there’s three pieces to figure out for every crime: means, motive, and opportunity. Now means would be easy enough in this case. According to the doctor, just about any object with a decent-sized flat surface could have been used to hit Ellis.”
“You talked to the doctor?” I asked.
She shrugged. “When I heard about it, I made a few phone calls, nothing much. Now opportunity doesn’t help us much either. No offense to Ralph, but it wouldn’t take any great shakes of a criminal to sneak past him. Just wait until he goes to the bathroom and you can waltz right in.”
“There’s a hole in the fence around back, too,” I said.
Junior looked disgusted. “Have they not fixed that yet? Anyway, getting onto the grounds is easy. Of course the building itself would be locked, but you know how easy it would be to get a key,”
I nodded.
“That gives us our opportunity,” Junior went on. “Now we have to figure out a motive. Is there any reason anybody would have wanted your grandfather dead?”
I shook my head slowly. “I can’t think of one. He didn’t have any enemies that I know of, and he didn’t have a whole lot of money. The house can’t be worth all that much, and I can’t imagine that the land would be worth killing for either, unless someone was planning some kind of construction.”
“Nothing like that going on in Byerly,” Junior said.
That settled that. If Junior hadn’t heard about it, it wasn’t happening. “There’s one thing,” I said slowly. “I know that this is going to sound silly, but I think Paw’s death had something to do with Melanie Wilson’s death.”
Junior cocked her head to one side. “How do you figure that?”
“Paw was worried about something that Sunday,” I said, avoiding the sock-pulling explanation, “and we found a copy of the Gazette opened to a story about Melanie.” I could see Junior was having a tough time keeping a straight face. “Then we found Paw’s map, and he had marked the spot where Melanie’s car was found. That got me to wondering if he knew something about Melanie’s death, and that’s why he was killed.”
; “Sounds a little thin,” Junior said kindly.
“I know.”
Junior stayed quiet for long enough to make me nervous, and then she leaned back in her chair. “Here’s the way I see it. The most likely possibility is that your grandfather had a heart attack while he was reaching for a box, fell, and hit his head. We don’t have any evidence to the contrary.”
“But he was lying face down,” I objected. “If he had just fallen, why wasn’t he on his back?”
“Because he rolled over—it’s as simple as that.” I started to say more, but Junior held up one hand to stop me. “I said that was the most likely possibility. A less likely possibility is that someone was waiting for him, hit him from behind, and left him for dead. The problem is we don’t have any evidence to support that.”
Richard pointed out, “We don’t have any evidence against it, either.”
“That brings us back to motive,” Junior said, “and the only thing you can give me for motive is that you think that Ellis was worried about Melanie. Now, I can believe that Ellis was worried about Melanie, but what I can’t believe is that Ellis would sit on information about her disappearance.”
“We figured that out,” I said. “Paw didn’t realize that what he saw was important until he read that article in the paper Sunday morning.”
“Do you know what time Ellis got up in the morning?”
“About eight, most mornings. Why?”
“Then the paper would have been there when he got up. Would he have read it right away?”
“Probably,” I said, still not sure where she was heading.
“So even assuming he was a slow reader, he was probably finished reading it by ten. Right?”
“Right.”
“So he’s just realized he has a crucial piece of information about a girl who’s disappeared, but he doesn’t call the police. Instead he goes to the mill to pick up socks.”
“I never thought about it that way,” I said, feeling stupid.
Junior went on. “You also haven’t explained how the killer knew that Ellis knew who he was, or why he waited until Sunday afternoon to kill Ellis. If this were a mystery on television, I’d say Ellis attempted blackmail, but knowing him the way I did, I wouldn’t even suggest such a thing. Do you see what I’m saying? Your pieces don’t fit together.”
Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 01 - Down Home Murder Page 15