Building Blocks of Murder

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  Lacy shook her head, remembering the sad sight of Joe Anton from the day she’d observed the trial. “He’s in jail, and he’s frail.”

  “Frailty can be an illusion. His body might be frail, but his will strong. Look at Charles Manson—the man probably weighs a hundred pounds wringing wet, yet look at the power he wielded. Maybe someone is working for Joe Anton.”

  “I guess that’s possible, but it doesn’t make sense.”

  “I thought today was about getting some answers, so let’s go get some answers.” He faced forward and put his hand on the ignition before pausing to turn to her again. “How do we get answers? Where do we start?”

  “I have no idea,” Lacy answered honestly. “I know I need to talk to Jason, but visiting hours aren’t for a couple of hours.”

  “Maybe we could talk to someone who can give us more information about the Stakely building,” Keegan suggested.

  Lacy brightened. “That’s an excellent idea.” She took out her phone and used it to look up an address. “We’ll talk to Shelia Whitaker. I don’t know if she’ll be home right now, but it’s worth a try.”

  They drove to Sheila’s house in silence. Lacy didn’t notice the silence until they arrived because she was busy thinking, her mind running rampant in a hundred different directions as she tried to assemble basic facts and make sense of the senseless. But then they pulled in Sheila’s driveway, and she realized Keegan hadn’t said a word in twenty minutes. She put her arm on his to stop him from leaving the car.

  “Keegan, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be a part of this. You can drop me here, and I’ll walk to the jail. It’s not far, and I walk a lot.”

  Keegan grinned, an irrepressible smile she was beginning to recognize. “Are you kidding me? This is the most fun and excitement I’ve had in ages. It’s just the distraction I’ve been searching for.”

  That wasn’t the first time she’d heard him mention needing a distraction. She wanted to ask him why he needed a distraction, but she didn’t. Now wasn’t the time or place, and she didn’t know him enough to push him over something he wasn’t willing to talk about. Later, she promised herself, she would try to talk to him about what was bothering him because something clearly was.

  “Ready?” Keegan asked.

  “Ready,” Lacy said. Together they stood on the porch and rang Sheila Whitaker’s bell.

  Chapter 12

  After ringing the bell three times, Lacy almost gave up hope, figuring that Sheila must not be home. Then the door was roughly jerked open and Sheila’s tall form filled the entryway and, by her red-rimmed eyes, it was obvious she had been crying.

  “Hi,” Sheila said. Her voice was tremulous. She pressed a tissue-stuffed fist to her mouth and sniffed.

  “Are you okay?”

  Sheila nodded. “A very dear friend died,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” Lacy said. “Now’s obviously not a good time to talk. We’ll come back.”

  “No, wait,” Sheila said. Her hand shot out and grabbed Lacy’s arm in a death grip. “I would like to talk to you because you knew him, knew what a great man he was.”

  Lacy had a sinking feeling, but she had to say the words anyway. “Who?”

  “Ed McNeil,” Sheila said the name on a sob. She let go of Lacy’s arm to cover her eyes.

  Lacy looked at Keegan, but of course he had no idea how shocking Sheila’s statement was because he hadn’t known Ed McNeil. But to hear the unsavory lawyer described as a good man was surprising to say the least. Despite her copious weeping, Sheila stood aside to grant access to her house. Lacy and Keegan awkwardly shuffled past her, stopping short when they reached the living room.

  “Please sit down,” Sheila said, attempting to pull herself together.

  Lacy and Keegan sat together on the couch while Sheila sat in a chair across from them and wiped her eyes once more. “I’m sorry, I’m just—it was such a shock. I appreciated your article this morning, Lacy. It was well written. I was sort of hoping you might consider writing a tribute to Ed for the paper, something that would tell what a wonderful man he was.”

  “Uh,” Lacy said, shooting Keegan a desperate look. Keegan gave her a helpless look in return and she realized she was on her own. “I’m, um, not sure I’m the best person for that. I tend to stick to fact-based stories when I write.”

  “But it would be fact,” Sheila said, her tone suddenly vehement. “Ed was one of the best…Did you know he was one of the biggest donors for the Society of American Downtowns?”

  Lacy hadn’t known that, and it didn’t make any sense. “But, Sheila, he put a stop-work order on the Stakely building to try and stop me from fixing it.” Lacy tried to say it gently so as not to disillusion Sheila about the man, but she needn’t have bothered.

  “I’m sure it was because he was making sure your motives were pure where the Stakely building was concerned,” Sheila said. “He was a staunch supporter of our cause, and he had been managing the property for the city. He was such a good man.”

  “You had been friends for a long time?” Keegan asked. His tone was gentle and laced with none of Lacy’s incredulity. He sounded like Tosh when he was in full pastor mode.

  Sheila nodded, her eyes tearing up again. “He helped me through a very difficult time in my life. We were, um, very close for a while.”

  Lacy didn’t need to use a lot of imagination to understand Sheila’s hidden meaning. Obviously Sheila and Ed had been more than friends at one point. Lacy had to hide her grimace of disgust. Really, Sheila? Because you could have done better. It was probably best to keep those thoughts to herself and not add to Sheila’s misery, but the thought of anyone finding Ed McNeil attractive was unbelievable.

  Absently, she thought of Pearl and her devotion to Ed McNeil. What was it about the man that made the two women so blind to his faults? Lacy thought maybe it wasn’t coincidence that Pearl and Sheila shared more than a passing resemblance. Was Ed McNeil’s wife a large, masculine woman? If so, then he definitely had a type.

  Sheila cleared her throat and tried to get her emotions under control. “I’m sorry. I thought I was all cried out, and then I saw the article this morning and I just…” She paused, clearing her throat again. “What did you want to speak to me about, dear?”

  “It’s really not important,” Lacy said. “It can wait. Clearly this isn’t a good time for you.”

  “To be honest, I would enjoy the distraction,” Sheila said.

  Distraction was the word of the day, apparently, so Lacy plunged in. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re something of an expert on the Stakely building. I was wondering if you could tell me a little more of its history, specifically around the time that it closed.”

  “It closed because of a murder,” Sheila said. She leaned forward, clenching her hands in her lap. “Did you know that?”

  Lacy nodded. “I just learned that this morning when I read it in the paper. You can imagine that it’s shocking to find out there was once a murder in a building I now own.” Although, technically she now owned two buildings where someone had been murdered if one were to count Barbara Blake’s house. Lacy pushed that unnerving thought aside for further inspection later.

  “I can’t believe all this is being rehashed again,” Sheila said. She pinched the bridge of her nose, squinting. “Not now, when everything else is so…” She paused again, sucking oxygen the way Lacy’s yoga instructor had showed her to try and calm herself. In Sheila’s case it seemed to work because she sat back, slightly more subdued. “I’m not sure what more I can tell you than has already been reported. For so many years the case remained unsolved, and then Joe Anton was arrested and it was over. And now it’s open again.”

  There was something in her tone, something that made Lacy think she was well-acquainted with the case. “Do you think Joe Anton is guilty of the murder?”

  “I did believe that, but Ed was so certain that he was innocent. Ed has always believed in his innocence, from th
e very beginning. He was devastated when he lost the case the first time. He was positive he was going to be able to overturn the conviction this time. Now I don’t know what to believe. I can’t believe this is happening. All the old wounds are opening again, and now Ed is gone.”

  “Sheila, I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I think I’m missing something. You seem to be somehow connected to the original murder case. Was Susan Pendergast a friend of yours?”

  “No, Susan was my sister,” Sheila said.

  Lacy had to let that information assimilate a few beats, so she was glad when Keegan asked the question she was thinking. “Didn’t it bother you that Ed McNeil defended the man who supposedly killed your sister?”

  “Ed believed strongly that everyone was innocent until proven guilty,” Sheila said. “He truly believed Joe Anton was innocent, and he wanted to find Susan’s true killer.”

  Lacy couldn’t wrap her mind around the two versions of Ed McNeil, the one she had met who seemed to care about nothing more than the almighty dollar, and the one Sheila Whitaker described, the one who was a defender of the weak and downtrodden. Whichever was the true man didn’t matter right now because Lacy’s sorrow for Sheila was genuine. Not only had she lost a friend, but now her sister’s case was being reopened. That seemed a little too coincidental to Lacy.

  “Do you think the two cases are connected?” she blurted.

  Sheila’s mouth hardened into a thin, angry line. “Yes, they’re definitely connected. The person who arrested Joe Anton is the same person who killed Ed McNeil.”

  So much for believing in innocent until proven guilty. “Sheila, Jason Cantor is a good friend of mine and an excellent officer. There is no way he killed Ed McNeil, and there is no way he manipulated evidence to arrest Joe Anton. He’s one of the best and most honest men I’ve ever met.”

  Sheila looked dubious. “With the kind of family life he had growing up? How could any good come out of that?”

  Those were fighting words. Lacy could feel the cap on her temper flip open, but before she could blast Sheila with whatever was about to come out of her mouth without first being run through her brain, Keegan grabbed her arm and pulled her to a standing position.

  “Thank you so much for your time, Miss Whitaker. I’m sorry things are painful for you right now. You’ve been helpful and informative.” He shook her hand with the one that wasn’t holding on to Lacy, and then he turned and marched Lacy toward the door, not letting her go until they reached his car.

  Once they were safely in his car, Keegan turned to her and spoke. “She’s grieving, and not just the loss of her friend, but also the renewed loss of her sister. Of course she’s going to say stupid things. It’s probably easier for her to blame your officer than to find any other outlet for her emotions.”

  Lacy took a breath and allowed her anger to drain away as she exhaled. “Tosh does that, diffuses my anger that way. Must be a family trait.”

  “It’s a gift,” Keegan said, grinning as he started the car. “Where to, Miss Marple?”

  “I’m sorry, did you really just make an Agatha Christie reference? When did you turn into an eighty-year-old woman?”

  “What can I say? I enjoy the classics.” There was a pause in conversation while he drove through their town’s only coffee shop, ordering a coffee for Lacy to take to Travis.

  Lacy resumed making fun of him once they were back on the road. “Do you have lace antimacassars covering your overstuffed armchairs? Do you knit one, purl two?”

  “And if I did, would you hold it against me?” He turned to smile at her in a heart-stopping way. He really was very handsome. So handsome, in fact, that Lacy had to go over her mental list of why she wasn’t interested in him as more than a friend.

  “Then it would simply be a blip in your otherwise perfection. Seriously, Keegan, how is it that you don’t have a girlfriend?”

  His smile dimmed as he faced forward again. “I’ve been busy. How is it that you don’t have a boyfriend? Oh, wait, that’s right. You’ve got too many to choose from.”

  “They’re…”

  “If you try and insist they’re just friends one more time, I will swerve this car into a tree. Wake up and smell the testosterone; you’re way more than friends with both of them. Let me tell you that, from an outsider’s point of view, it’s as painful to watch you try and vacillate between them as it is to see them pining for you.”

  “No one is pining,” she insisted. “They both know where I stand, and I’m not vacillating. I’m not ready for a relationship. Why are we talking about me? I thought we were talking about you.”

  “Did you?” he smiled at her again and she knew the conversation was over, not least of which because they had arrived at the jail.

  “You don’t have to wait here,” Lacy said. “I can call my grandfather for a ride.” In truth, she didn’t want him to go in with her, knowing that it wouldn’t go over well with Jason. He would keep up his guard and refrain from telling her anything.

  “I’ll wait,” Keegan said. “Out here,” he added as if he could read her mind. “I brought a book.” He reached to the back seat and pulled out a backpack, stuffed to overflowing with books.

  “Agatha Christie?” she guessed.

  He held up the title for her to read. ”Orthodoxy, by G.K. Chesterton. Wow, that’s some light reading. Enjoy.” She escaped the car, his chuckle echoing behind her as she closed the door and walked to the jail.

  Chapter 13

  “How long have you been here?” Lacy asked Travis as she handed over his coffee.

  “What day is it?” he asked, and she wasn’t sure he was kidding. “Two more hours, and I’m free. Free to go home and sleep, that is. You know what other twenty-one-year olds are doing right now, Lacy? Not delousing people, that’s for sure.”

  Lacy winced, not just for Travis who was obviously exhausted, but for Jason, too. “Jason didn’t have to be deloused, did he?”

  Travis wouldn’t quite meet her gaze. “It’s procedure. It wasn’t any fun for us, either, though.”

  “I know,” Lacy said. “I’m sorry, sorry about all if it.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to walk into my sergeant’s office and hand in my resignation when they brought Jason in. This is just such a load.”

  “You’ll feel better after you get some sleep,” Lacy said. “And this Jason thing isn’t going to last. We both know he didn’t do it. This is only temporary until the ballistics test clears his name.”

  Travis didn’t reply as he buzzed her through. She walked to the now familiar visitation room where she sat waiting for Jason. There was a moment of trepidation as Lacy wondered if he might not come. She couldn’t help but remember when she had visited her grandmother for the first time, and her grandmother had refused to see her. Her connection to Jason was even more tenuous and emotionally charged.

  After a few minutes of waiting, the heavy metal door buzzed open and Jason walked through. He looked grim as he sat and picked up the phone. Lacy picked up her phone, waiting to see what he would say. Would he tell her how bad he was obviously feeling about everything?

  “You’re using the fact that Len wants you to write about this as an excuse to investigate, aren’t you?” were his first words, and Lacy realized Jason wasn’t grim because of his ordeal but because he was irritated with her. Again. Or maybe still. She wasn’t sure how to respond, but he didn’t give her much of a chance. “So are you here in an official capacity to interview me? Let’s go, Miss Steele, what do you want to know?”

  “I think it’s uncanny the amount of connections between this current case and the Joe Anton case,” Lacy said, hoping to shock him out of his grumpiness.

  “What?” he said, gripping the phone tighter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’m not. Ed McNeil was his attorney then. You were the arresting officer.” She took another breath to tell him about the Stakely building, but couldn’t bring herself to tell him abo
ut the ominous note she had received that morning, knowing he would worry himself to death. “There are a lot of connections,” she finished lamely.

  “There are two connections, and it’s just coincidence, Lacy. The Joe Anton case was a slam dunk, so much so that I can’t believe it took the detective division so long to figure it out. The signs were all there, and I went where they led. The case was airtight. Ed McNeil defended a lot of people, and I’ve arrested a lot of people. Cases are bound to overlap in a small town.” He took a breath and consciously relaxed his grip on the phone. “I know it’s hard for you to wait around and do nothing, but I’m asking you to back off and wait for the ballistics to clear me. The test is failsafe, and it will prove the bullet didn’t come from my gun. We simply have to sit tight and wait for that to happen.”

  “If you didn’t kill Ed McNeil, then who do you think did?” Lacy asked, her heated tone revealing her frustration. Sit tight. Back off. As if. Lacy knew if the situation were reversed, Jason would be turning over every rock to clear her name. How could he expect any less from her?

  “I have no idea,” Jason said. “But there were tons of people with motive, his client list for a beginning. He often defended the lowest of the low, people who didn’t exactly stick to any sort of code of honor. I don’t know for sure, but there have been rumors swirling about him for years. If the rumors were true, then Ed wasn’t exactly the upstanding citizen he claimed to be.”

  “Who saw him as an upstanding citizen?” Lacy asked.

  “Everyone he wanted to. He was a game player, a big campaign contributor, and involved in several civic activities. He fooled a lot of people into thinking he was a great guy.”

  “Sheila Whitaker certainly seemed to think so.”