Now she sounded spiteful. After the bootleggers’ murder, Jeffers said: I was not aware of any illegal purchases of alcohol made at the Evans’ home. Except for groceries, Mr. Evans handled all deliveries to the house.
Another departure from the truth. Or had she one story for the police and another for everyone else? She wouldn’t be the first person to lie to a copper, especially about liquor.
Alice checked the door again and then turned her attention to her pad. Joe waited for her to continue. Even Jeffers slanted a glance at her.
“Did you meet with Walter Silver yesterday?” she read.
“The insurance fella? What would I have to do with insurance? If he came to the door and I’m not saying he did, I’d tell him to call on Mr. Evans’ lawyer or his sister. I may have been more than friendly with Stanley, but I never got a nickel out of it.”
Tired of watching Edna Jeffers’ surly face and blank eyes, Alice trained her gaze on what Reynolds had read to her on the phone from the police notes: Miss Jeffers stated that Walter Silver did not call on the Evans’ yesterday. She said she did not hear or see anything from the front lawn during the night. She was unaware of the murder till the handyman, Gordon Laughlin, reported it the following morning.
“We done here?” Edna Jeffers said in an impatient jingle of beads.
“There is a possibility then that Mr. Silvers did stop by yesterday?” Joe asked.
Jeffers heaved a sigh. “I said so, didn’t I? Walt showed up now and then to talk about house upkeep. Told him the same thing I’m telling you—I’ve nothing to do with that. It costs what it costs to keep the house looking nice. If he thinks something’s gamey in what I do, then take it up with the lawyer or Stanley’s sister.”
“And that’s what you told him yesterday?”
If Joe was trying to trick the housekeeper into an admission, it fell flat. She regarded him with a sardonic eye. “All I’m saying is that I take no notice of business fellows. If I saw him yesterday, then I sent him on his way same as always.”
Carelessly, she added, “Don’t think I’m wearing black crepe or shedding a crocodile tear for him neither. Fellows who make their living pestering poor women deserve what they get.”
A shocking statement but sadly, Alice had heard worse. Women as self-serving as Edna Jeffers were a penny a bushel. She bent an inquiring eyebrow at Joe. Since the doorbell hadn’t rung as scheduled (which goes to show what happens when one depends on unstable characters), perhaps Joe should devise a different strategy.
And then, of course, the doorbell rang.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alice and Joe stood behind the housekeeper as she flung open the door. Alice couldn’t see her expression, but the massive woman’s shoulders tensed on seeing who stood there. Reluctantly she stepped aside when Reynolds demanded admittance.
A small crowd entered. Although Alice only wanted to be sure one of the Admiral’s men had arrived, another drew her attention.
Leaning on Laughlin’s arm, a woman, pale as grief, entered first. The handyman had cleaned up—shaved his beard, brushed his hair, polished his army boots to a dull glow, and wore a reasonably clean shirt with his workday overalls. More important, though he watched over the older woman with red-rimmed eyes, he appeared sober. A miracle to behold in the short time since they’d last seen him.
Pierce, the one Alice believed murdered the three men under the Admiral’s orders, came next, looking the same as when she’d seen him in the tunnels. His gaze, as flat as Edna Jeffers’, passed over her and settled on Joe. She’d eased to the background to let the slight woman and Laughlin pass, but Alice retreated to the living room when Pierce entered. His lips twisted as he bumped Joe purposely. Then he moved to the front window and stared through the glass, a backlit sentinel.
Reynolds strolled through the door last, his gaze landing on Alice first. “Did it go well, Al?” Without giving pause for her answer or protest over the “Al,” he said quietly to Joe, “Everything okay?”
Joe nodded. “As expected.”
Reynolds straightened, his eyes alert as a hawk. “Excellent. My show then.” He took his position near the fireplace.
Extracting her steno pad, Alice hurried to snag the chair the housekeeper used before the doorbell rang. Flummoxed by the crowd, Jeffers stood in cold rage near the door leading to the kitchen. She glared at the pale woman who huddled on the couch next to the handyman.
“What’s she doing here?” the housekeeper demanded.
“Alice Glenn was good enough to accompany me to the asylum this afternoon,” Reynolds said. “Since Mrs. Evans could no longer be institutionalized for her husband’s murder and the doctors consider her now to be of sound mind, she was released today.”
Not quite true. Alice alone had taken her to Harbor Inn where Joe questioned her gently for a few minutes and then called Reynolds from the Inn’s phone box. Alice took Mrs. Evans to her room to rest, but the woman sat instead at the window. She watched the boats bobbing in the ocean, her face filled with innocent wonder.
Reynolds offered to pick her up shortly before Alice and Joe traveled to Bixby Knolls. Docile as a child, she had gone with him. Alice wished she could have seen the reunion with the handyman. Judging by his protective stance beside Mrs. Evans and the relief in his eyes, their meeting would have been a sight to behold.
“Who are they saying killed Stanley if she didn’t?” Edna Jeffers’ arms flexed belligerently in the cap sleeves.
“That is what we expect to discover this evening, Miss Jeffers,” Reynolds said. “Are there any other chairs about the house we can use? A lady shouldn’t be left standing.”
The housekeeper breathed heavily for a moment before she said grudgingly, “There’s three chairs in the dining room if you care to move ‘em in here.”
Pierce didn’t move and Laughlin appeared loathe to leave Mrs. Evans, but Reynolds and Joe sprang into action. Moments later everyone but Pierce was seated.
Alice admired how Joe arranged the group. He shifted her to the sofa next to Mrs. Evans, and the poor woman seemed to relax having Alice close by. With Laughlin on the other side of the settee next to Mrs. Evans, Joe flanked her with people that made her feel safe. He set Miss Jeffers in a chair backed to the fireplace. She was close to the sofa, and Alice saw it made the housekeeper nervous. Maybe she thought Mrs. Evans still capable of murder.
Reynolds nabbed Alice’s vacated chair. It was close to the kitchen doorway. Joe sat on a dining room chair that would block any stampede to the front door. Joe did leave the last chair by the window, but Pierce ignored it.
“Now that we’re all settled …” Reynolds nodded at the players in his small theater with a satisfied smile. “Let’s see if we can discover what really happened the night Stanley Evans died.”
Miss Jeffers moved but said nothing. Hearing Mrs. Evans swallow nervously, Alice patted her hand. She stole a furtive look at Pierce. No one could look as criminal as he did. It shouldn’t take Joe or Officer Reynolds long to prove it.
“Police consultant Joe Finnegan questioned several of you today … maybe even all of you. He felt the answers to four questions would resolve the three murders.”
Alice felt the sofa rumble under her as Gordon Laughlin leaned forward. He darted looks at Joe, Miss Jeffers, and at Pierce behind him. Looking as if he expected to be blamed, he slouched sullenly next to Mrs. Evans.
“First question.” Reynolds made a show of consulting his notepad and several of his players squirmed. “Who took delivery of the gravel?”
Miss Jeffers directed an accusing look at Laughlin. Reluctantly, he rose.
“That’d be me, sir. Miss Jeffers said the master wanted it in the basement as he thought it would clutter up the gardening shed. He weren’t around for me to argue about it. Moving it down there was a job and a half.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “For sure I didn’t know I was covering his body with bags of gravel. Weeks later, they found his body under the pallets where I piled the sacks. I
wouldn’t have put ‘em there had I known.”
“I’m certain that’s true.” The policeman appeared to be paying little attention to the answer or his less-than-soothing response. Except for a quick, charged look at Joe, Reynolds’ attention remained on his notepad.
“Second question. Who told the household and others that Mr. Evans was visiting his sister?”
Mrs. Evans timidly raised her hand. “I did. My husband told me the night he went missing that he wished to see his sister. When I did not see him the next day, I thought he decided to leave without discussing it further. He sometimes avoided arguments, avoided me, by suddenly doing a thing with no warning. I see now that I should have called his sister and confirmed that he arrived safely, but I was peeved thinking he’d abandoned the household with no warning or instructions.”
She accompanied her long speech with sniffs and many recourses to her handkerchief. Alice who had been subjected to her high, wavering voice most of the afternoon, fixed a smile on her face. She quivered with relief when the frail woman squeaked to a halt.
Others may have felt the same. She heard a measured exhale of breath from Pierce behind her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Evans.” Again it seemed that the policeman merely ticked off the query on his notepad and cared little what the response might be. She stole a glance at Joe, who only returned it with an attentive one of his own. Sighing, she returned to taking down every word of the responses.
“Third question. Who took delivery of the contraband liquor?”
Initially the only response was a leaden silence. When Pierce stirred behind her, Alice stiffened.
“Would a secondhand answer be alright with you, sir?”
Alice had to control herself and not turn to stare. She had not heard more than a gruff word or two from the guard. It now thrilled her to hear a melodious voice come from that ruined face.
“Since no one else is speaking up, I’ll have to take it,” Reynolds said. “Long as we can verify what you say.”
“We cannot do that, seeing the one who told me is dead. Robbie Tauscher told me that till the last but two times, Mr. Evans took delivery of the package and left cash for it ‘neath the mat at the front door. Robbie always scoffed at that, saying Mr. Evans must have considered himself absolved of guilt by not handing money directly to a bootlegger.”
“And the last two times?” Joe asked.
Alice thought for a minute that Pierce wouldn’t answer Joe, causing her to wonder again what dispute festered between the two men. Finally he said, “We answered calls for a delivery like the other times, but neither man who took the call had talked to Mr. Evans previously. So now we cannot be certain it was him who placed the order. He was not present for the deliveries. Since the dough was ‘neath the mat, the package was left at the back door.”
Reynolds took back control of the interrogation. “Did Mr. Tauscher say anything about who was present?”
Pierce answered him readily, “Aye, sir, he did. Although he thought the grounds strangely quiet, he saw the Missus wandering in the woods on one occasion. Saw the handyman scrubbing the porch steps in the back, his shirt bloody and a wild look about him. Being a fan of the occult, this excited young Tauscher. The day before he went missing, although he’d not been called to make a delivery to the Evans’ home, he told another runner that he would take “a gander about the place.” Said it was his chance to do so with old man Evans out of the way.”
“Last words from a man now dead,” Reynolds said. “Even secondhand, we can’t ignore it.”
Miss Jeffers sniffed caustically.
“Last question.” Reynolds slowly looked at each of his players in turn. “I’ll begin by saying I find life insurance disbursements made in this manner very odd. I talked to Mrs. Shirley Sheldon, Stanley Evan’s sister, who assured me that it not an uncommon practice by this company and convenient for her.”
Again, not quite true. Alice talked to the sister and passed the information to Reynolds.
The policeman leisurely perused those in the room again. “So tell us, who submitted the household accounts to Walter Silver?”
Everyone turned to Edna Jeffers. Mrs. Evans clutched Alice’s hand in a death grip, her pale face grim with determination.
Jeffers’ lips curled. “Well, of course it would be me. Don’t I do everything around here? And paid a pittance for it, I tell you. No one can complain about my reports neither. Ac-cu-rate to the item and cost. I mailed them ever’ Friday without fail.”
“Mailed them?” Joe asked. “You never took them to Mr. Silver’s office?”
“Why make extra work for m’self?” She shook her head. “And who would take care of things here if I was off delivering the mail? That’s a job for the postman.”
Alice noticed that Miss Jeffers’ southern voice descended to strident and coarse as her complaints rose.
Joe nodded to Reynolds. “In our discussion with Miss Jeffers earlier, she did concede that she may have seen the insurance agent yesterday.”
Jeffers straightened. “I did no such thing! I said many folks come to the door and I always send them off. I conceded nothing about Walt.”
By the way she sneered saying the word, Alice suspected that the housekeeper didn’t know what “conceded” meant. When a small smile appeared on Joe’s face, she thought he suspected the same thing. But then she noticed a knowing smile on Officer Reynolds’ face. Had she missed something?
A fearful spasm ran through Mrs. Evans and shook the sofa under Alice.
“She killed my husband!” She pointed a trembling finger at Jeffers. “That Edna, she killed Stanley.”
Her accusation electrified the room. Alice missed most of it when the handyman sprang from the couch, his gaze fixed on Jeffers. Pierce stepped towards him, then froze, his attention fixed on Laughlin.
Feeling uneasy at having her back to the handyman and Pierce, Alice turned to face the rest of the room. She had to trust that Joe or Reynolds would protect her.
Her eyes stony as ever, Jeffers rose. She stared at the room with a haughty air. “Some fool doctor may have released you from the loony bin, Doris, but everyone knows you killed Stanley yourself. You didn’t like the attention he paid me so you stuck a kitchen knife in him and stowed him in the basement. Little as you are, I don’t know how you did it.” She threw a contemptuous look at Laughlin. “Probably had help. Gordy was eager like a hound to do your bidding.
“And since the po-lice and their high ‘n’ mighty con-sul-tant …” Again Jeffers’ voice grew shrill, elongating the syllables as her rage intensified. “As you need someone to say what is plain to the rest of us, I’ll explain what happened.”
“If you would be so kind, “ Joe said politely. Jeffers acted as if she didn’t hear him, and her voice boiled over his.
“Gordy took that delivery from the bootlegger. And that bootlegger, that Robbie Tauscher, told him he knew what Gordy did. He knew Gordy killed Stanley. Heard Stanley hollering when he got stuck and saw him dragging the body from the back porch to the basement stairs.” Jeffers paused, her chest heaving in the tight dress, her hooded eyes smoldering. Alice didn’t dare look at Laughlin but his hands clenched on the back of the sofa as he stood behind Mrs. Evans.
“Then Robbie tried to blackmail him, but Gordy had no money,” Jeffers said. “Told him to come back later when he got some. When the bootlegger come back, he tried paying him off with cash he’d scrounged from selling off stuff in the house. But Robbie said it weren’t enough and offered to take the rest in trade. That’s when he pulled out a pigsticker and taunted him with it. He didn’t know that ole Gordy had moves of his own and killed him with his own knife.”
“Sounds like self defense to me,” Joe said.
Jeffers had become so involved in her story, that she started at Joe’s voice. “Yeah, self-defense. Maybe,” she said uncertainly.
Then her face hardened. “Nah. Gordy meant to kill him. That Robbie was a rat, taking advantage of a poor woman’s
troubles like he done. He deserved what he got.”
Alice was confused. What poor woman? She looked to Joe for help, but his gaze remained on the housekeeper. She risked a look at Gordon Laughlin. Mrs. Evans had a tight grip on his wrist as he clasped her shoulder, but he bowed his head so Alice couldn’t read his face.
“And the insurance agent? Did he deserve to die, too?” Joe asked.
Jeffers gripped the fireplace mantel. “Walt? The man was unrelenting, threatening to report any little thing he thought out-of-order. Rules, rules, rules. He had hundreds of rules and expected me to follow each one. Harassed me all hours. Forms, pages of ‘em, had to make four copies of each. Make sure you align those carbons, Miss Jeffers. No erasure marks, neither. And don’t crinkle the corners again, Miss Jeffers.”
She huffed to a stop, spittle at the corner of her mouth. His hand on his nightstick, Reynolds studied her keenly.
“That would drive me mad, Miss Jeffers,” Joe said kindly. “Did you kill him?”
Mrs. Evans sucked in her breath with a little squeak, Alice blotted her steno pad, and Laughlin snapped to attention. Jeffers’ gaze drifted to her former employer, to Gordon, and then back to Joe. “Me? Of course, not. Women like me bear those things. We have no money and no power to do anything ‘bout it.” She nodded at Pierce.
“But he does.”
This time Reynolds spoke. “What does he have to do with it? You ever see him with Mr. Silver?”
Alice darted a look at Pierce. She’d felt since meeting the Admiral that his crime syndicate had something to do with the murders. Yet something felt off about the housekeeper’s accusation. Did their organization go beyond smuggling and selling illegal substances? She’d heard about mobsters taking “cuts” of any transactions within their territories. Did that extend to life insurance too?
“I don’t know him,” Edna Jeffers said sullenly. “But you got him here, so I figure he’s guilty of something. You can tell by how his face is cut that he’s been in a knife fight or two. And that insurance fellow was stuck with a knife like the bootlegger, right? Yonder man holds himself like a soldier. Bet he knows how to use a saber, just like all them soldiers do.” Her gaze flitted to Laughlin. “Gordy was in the army. He knows what I’m talking about. Maybe he did both of them. The bootlegger and the insurance fellow.
The Admiral of Signal Hill Page 5