1 A Paw-sible Theory

by Anna Kern

  She closed her eyes again. “No, nothing. There was no one out there.”

  “All right; let’s try it again. You were sitting at the table, the paper in front of you; you took a sip of coffee. What did you hear?”

  “I was alone. I didn’t have the radio or television on. The cats were being cats. You know, chasing around the house, jumping on things.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. There’s just nothing there––I don’t know if I don’t remember or there’s nothing to remember.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t see or hear a car come up your drive?” he asked.

  “No, but I did get up from the table at one point. I heard scratching noises in the guestroom; I looked in and saw one of the cats trying to keep from falling off the back of the wicker day bed. She’s a little clumsy at times,” she added with a smile.

  “Someone could have driven up then and you wouldn’t have heard or seen them, right?”

  “No, I guess not, but I was just in the doorway for a minute. Why is this important?”

  Before he answered, he squinted and rubbed his forehead. “Earlier today, I received a call from the Prosecutor. He said a witness had come forward, a neighbor down the street. He said he stepped outside to get his paper and he saw an SUV the same make and color your son drives, backing out of your drive about ten minutes before your son said he arrived.” I felt my fur rise when I heard this.

  Alyx too seemed to tremble at the import of that accusation. “I stand by what I said. My son is innocent; he would never hurt me or anyone else for that matter. Please help him,” she implored, her eyes clouded, and she tried hard not to lose control.

  David Hunter covered her hand with his and then abruptly removed it. “I believe Ethan is innocent and I will do the best I can for him.” He cleared his throat and continued, “You said you were going to speak to Ethan about his financial situation. Did you typically argue a lot about his spending habits?”

  She shook her head. “I knew he was making good money and for the first time in a long time, Ethan could buy what he wanted as well as just what he needed. Although he didn’t discuss his finances with me, I did caution him about the credit card trap he could easily fall into, but every time I brought it up, he told me not to worry; he knew what he was doing. I thought he should make his own decisions, and I didn’t press him. I didn’t know how deep in debt he was until recently. As for arguments, we never really argued about anything; we had parent-adult child disagreements over his spending.”

  “Did he ever ask you for money?”

  “No, Ethan never asked me for anything. He learned at an early age that I could provide for our needs, but not necessarily for what he wanted.”

  She smiled wistfully. “Whenever he asked for something, I would ask him if it was a want or a need. Most times, the poor baby would lower his head and tell me he just wanted it. It broke my heart when I had to tell him no. I couldn’t be too hard on him about his spending. I knew he was trying to fulfill all those wants he had missed, those things I couldn’t give him.”

  “What about his break-up with his longtime girlfriend? I understand he went through some serious depression.”

  She took a deep breath. “Yes, it hurt him deeply and I suggested he see a doctor. I thought a he could give him something to help him through it, and it did.”

  Hunter then showed her a picture of what the reassembled broken pot looked like. “This is the pot you were presumably hit with; do you recognize it?”

  She looked at it carefully. “I have the pots Ethan made in high school all over the house––a mother’s pride, you know. This one was right above where I was sitting, close to the edge on the upper cabinets.”

  “I’d like to take another look at the crime scene. Who should I contact?”

  “Maggie can let you in. I’ll let her know to expect your call.”

  “Does she have a key to your house?”

  “Yes, she does. I gave it to her when I went to a show in Georgia, and I haven’t asked for it back. I think I just forgot about it.”

  “Tell me about Maggie.”

  “Maggie is my closest friend and business partner. She wouldn’t have had anything to do with this.”

  “I’m not saying she did, Ms. Hille; this is part of the discovery process. I’ll be speaking to her as well as others.”

  “Okay, I understand. I met Maggie when I was taking design classes at Beachside Community College. We found we had a lot in common, even though she doesn’t have any children or pets, is twice married and, as she often says, has been burned in love more times than she cares to admit.

  We both worked a number of meaningless jobs for large homogenizing institutions that didn’t recognize individual effort and achievement. She understood what it takes for an older woman to succeed in a man’s world dominated by youth. We often talked about owning our own business and not having to depend on anyone to take care of us.

  I encouraged her to stay in school when it became too heavy a load and she wanted to quit, not realizing at the time that what I had said to her was also strengthening my resolve to change my life for the better. You could say our friendship was the crutch that kept us both on the path to a secure future.

  Our dream was finally realized when we opened Antiques, each contributing our own unique style and talent to the endeavor. Her concept of a casual atmosphere; no pressure to buy, yet finding assistance nearby if needed and my idea that the store should look like someone’s home, so the customer could easily imagine how a particular item would fit in the room they were decorating is what made the store an overnight success. Two months ago, we hired two employees––Charvette and Bernice––giving us the opportunity to develop the interior design part of the business.

  Our first job came about when an older couple, who had recently moved down from New Jersey, bought the first house built on the beachside in 1884 to restore it to a bed-and-breakfast. The couple came to Antiques to look for furnishings for their own home and liked our decorating style. They hired us to decorate the B & B after its completion, but as it turned out, we ended up assisting with many elements of the restoration.

  Maggie suggested that the owners host an open house and invite the press. The event turned into a community affair, with several other historic B & B’s taking part, the owners dressed in period costumes and serving authentic turn-of-the-century recipes. Along with the tourists, it seemed like the whole town turned out for the event, resulting in positive exposure and business for Antiques & Designs.

  I often wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t met Maggie.”

  I admit I so enjoyed hearing Maggie tell about how she and Alyx and met and started their business that I almost forgot about the seriousness of the present situation.

  “All right, Ms. Hille, I don’t want to tire you out any more than necessary, but I do have a couple more questions. Are you up to continuing or should I come back?”

  “Please call me Alyx, and I’m fine. What else do you want to know?”

  “I learned from your son and your business partner, that there was resentment against you on the part of some of your neighboring business owners,” he said, repeating what Maggie and Ethan had told him. ”Do you think any of them would want to hurt you?”

  She bit her lower lip and looked away. “I don’t know. No, I really don’t think so.”

  “What about Dan Ramsey?”

  “I think Dan Ramsey is more envious of our influence over the other merchants, than he is resentful of the changes Maggie and I suggested. Before Antiques moved in, everything closed down at five in the evening and on Sundays. It took Maggie and me three months to convince the Downtown Merchants Association to see the wisdom of extending their daily hours and staying open seven days a week. The resistance came mostly from the merchants who regarded their business as a hobby rather than a business. Some still resent the change, the most vocal being Dan Ramsey. Judging from his outburst at the Merchant’s Association meeting, he looked angry
enough to want to kill me, but I don’t think it was him.”

  “Either one––jealousy or resentment––can be a motive for murder,” Hunter said as he pulled a business card from his coat pocket and wrote his home phone number on the back.

  “If you remember anything else, anything at all, call my office, my cell phone or my home if it’s after business hours.”

  “If there is a trial, what are Ethan’s chances?”

  “At this point, the prosecution’s case is strong. No doubt, they will, bring up the fact that Ethan needed cash to keep up with his acquired tastes. They will press the issue that he stood to gain the most by the sale of the building, and that he tried to kill you because you wouldn’t sell, or maybe your arguing just got out of hand. If he’s found guilty, he could receive the minimum of three years. There’s always a chance he could be found not guilty––there’s also the possibility he could receive a life sentence.”

  “I don’t want to put you on the spot, but I’d like to be kept in the loop regarding Ethan’s defense. However, I do understand that, officially, my ex-husband Bob is your client, and you don’t have to tell me anything.”

  He hesitated and looked away before answering her silent plea.

  “I give Bob a transcribed copy of all my interviews; I’ll be glad to ask for his authorization to give you a copy as well.”

  Alyx smiled and reached for his hand. “Thank you.”

  “For a good cat, a good rat.”

  ––French Proverb

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: Antiques, Tours, and Interviews

  It had been a while since I’d last been downtown and the walk down Ocean Street gave me the opportunity to reacquaint myself with the area. The renovation of the business area had been completed and the main street was now home to antique stores, art galleries, unique boutiques, and quaint sidewalk cafés. The buildings were mostly art deco style, recently repainted in various shades of beige, aqua and pink, colorful canopies topping the doors and windows.

  I had learned from a report that Ethan did in college that the 1910 bank building I passed housed a museum, and just down the street, where the residential area began, the Live Oak House dating back to 1700 overlooked the marina. Four hundred years old, live oak trees surrounded the current house built in 1871; the original structure having burned down during the second Seminole Indian War. Also in the heart of the old downtown area was another registered historic house built in 1912 of coquina limestone created by centuries of transforming sand, shell and coral.

  I stopped to look at the display window at Alyx and Maggie’s shop, Antiques & Designs, admiring the beautifully crafted desk in excellent condition that was tucked in the corner of the display. I saw David Hunter driving down the street, looking for a parking spot, so I quickly entered the store.

  Many of the antique stores that Alyx had taken me to had been either full of stodgy dark antiques, or so full of junk you had to dig your way through to find anything worthwhile. Antiques & Designs was different; here customers found a bright and orderly display of goods set up to look much like the rooms in a lived-in home, the antiques mixed in with vintage furniture. Some of the items evolved from other things with previous lives, such as the corner-shelf created from two louvered bi-fold door panels and the bench that had had a previous life as a headboard.

  The space was open with only the furniture delineating the various rooms. Off to the side, towards the middle of the space was a wide, majestic staircase curving up to the loft area on the second floor.

  An attractive, flamboyantly-dressed woman in her thirties walked up to Hunter and offered to assist him. “I’m here to see Maggie Broeck. Are you Ms. Broeck?”

  “No, I’m Bernice. Maggie is with a customer now. Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked pleasantly. Hunter handed her his business card and told her he just needed to speak to Maggie for a few minutes.

  Bernice glanced at the card. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  He smiled a thank you and watched her disappear up the curving staircase. A few minutes later, Maggie came down the stairs. Attractive in a conventional way, Maggie was dressed in a conservative, turquoise suit. The warm, friendly personality she presented was genuine. She introduced herself and directed Hunter to the office in the rear of the store. I followed unseen.

  In contrast to the décor of the store, the office was completely modern-day and functional. Maggie offered Hunter some coffee, which he declined, poured herself a cup and sat behind the desk. He took a seat next to the desk, pulled out a notebook and recorder from his briefcase, and placed the briefcase on the floor, next to his chair.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Hunter?”

  “Call me David. I’d like to ask you some questions, just to clear up a few points. Do you mind if I record the conversation? You strike me as someone who has a lot to say and I don’t take shorthand.”

  “You’re right; I usually do have a lot to say, but not about what happened to Alyx. I have no idea who or why someone would want to hurt her.”

  “I understand. My questions, however, are about you. I know you have access to the house, but your statement to the police makes no mention of it. Why didn’t you tell them you have a key?”

  She looked down. “I don’t know. I’m not good at analyzing my actions. I did tell Ethan I’d be taking care of the cats and the house. I assumed he understood I had a key. If I had anything to hide I wouldn’t have done that.”

  David Hunter had his questions written down and moved on to number two.

  “Alyx’s ex-husband Bob Hille overheard a conversation you were having on the phone outside of Alyx’s hospital room.”

  I watched Maggie closely for a reaction. A look of disdain crossed her face at the mention of Bob’s name. She essentially said that she had been surprised at Alyx’s reaction about moving the business and had enlisted Ethan to help.

  “Who was the realtor who contacted you?”

  “His name is Rupert Moresby. His wife, Novie, owns the Ocean Street Café, next door to our business, as a matter of fact.”

  “Did you discuss the offer with her?”

  “Yes, I did. Rupert mentioned that the developer, James Dunne, was also interested in buying the building where the café is located. I wanted to see what Novie’s feelings were about selling. I got the impression Rupert wanted it to happen more than she did.”

  Hunter flipped his notebook to another page. “Ethan mentioned there was some resentment on the part of some of the business owners regarding being pressured to expand their business hours. Can you give more background on that?”

  “Ethan and I talked about that before his arrest. He asked me if I knew of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Alyx. I told him I didn’t know of any problems among the people we knew, and he reminded me about a nasty confrontation with Dan Ramsey a couple of months back. His store is two doors north,” she said, indicating the direction with her head.

  “Where did this happen?”

  She took a sip of coffee. “It happened at our regular Merchant’s Association meeting. Alyx and I presented the idea that it would benefit all of us to get involved in sponsoring community events such as the annual Arts Festival, taking the opportunity to show off our beautiful renovated downtown. Well, he stood up, got all red in the face and, directing his comments to Alyx, said he was tired of pushy newcomers changing the order of things. And we heard again about how long he and some of the others had been downtown and had gotten along just fine.”

  “How did Alyx react to that?”

  Maggie grinned. “She stood up, rested both hands on the table in front of her, and told Dan Ramsey that change was inevitable whether he liked it or not, but if he didn’t, he should consider selling so that those interested in developing the area to its full potential could do so without hindrance.

  Hunter only smiled, and Maggie continued, “Ramsey was also the most vocal when we approached the group about changing business hours when we first opened our
store. He and five or six others are in the minority. Most want the changes; they just didn’t know it when the old guard was always running the show,” she said, finishing her coffee.

  He flipped a few pages back. “What about your employees, Bernice Kustaberry and Charvette Hattaras, anything unusual ever happen between them and Alyx?”

  Maggie thought about it. “Nothing I know about. We stole Bernice from the Antique Emporium and Charvette came highly recommended by Novie Moresby next door, whom we know pretty well. Charvette used to work for her husband, Rupert. Although we all like each other and occasionally have lunch, Alyx and I don’t socialize with our employees. We prefer to keep things on a business level.”

  He consulted his notes again. “What about George Lucas? What can you tell me about him?”

  “Well, George isn’t really an employee,” she answered quickly. “He’s not on our payroll; we pay him by the piece, whether it’s an item he fixed or one he created. Alyx has known him for several years and she’s never said anything bad about him nor has he ever said anything bad about her. He’s a very talented man and we both feel lucky to have him as a supplier and woodworker.”

  “I assume that in your business you travel to other cities to find merchandise to sell?”

  “Yes, we do, but not very often. I think the last out of town trip was a couple of months ago when Alyx and Charvette went to an antique fair in Georgia, which was when Alyx gave me the key to her house, by the way. She asked me to take care of her cats. She didn’t ask for it back when she returned and I just forgot to give it back to her. In fact, it’s been here in the drawer of this desk until I took it out Monday,” she said.

  He made no comment on the key issue and continued his questioning.

  “Did anything unusual happen at the fair that you know of? Anything between Charvette and Alyx or someone else?”

  She said no. He thanked her for the information and asked if he could speak to Bernice and Charvette.

  “Sure, let me go tell them you want to talk to them. I’ll ask Bernice to come in first.”