by Diane Morlan
“What are you doing tomorrow, Jerry,” asked Bernie.
Decker looked up from his phone. “I just got a text from Jacobs asking me to meet him for breakfast.”
“Really. Is he going to share with you what he’s found out so far?”
“I hope so. He knows I’m poking around. I promised him I’d share with him if we learn anything.”
“We? He knows I’m investigating, too.”
“No, he knows you’re snooping in that delightful way of yours.”
“And my snooping is useful to the Sheriff’s Department. Just like your investigation. Right?”
Decker gave me one of those cute, sexy smiles and said, “I plead the fifth.” Then he turned to Bernie and said, “Snoopy and I are heading home. Thank you for the lovely meal.”
I gave Bernie a hug and Decker and I headed out.
20
Bernie was waiting in her parking lot when I pulled in to pick her up for the memorial service on Thursday morning.
She waved when she realized it was me. Sliding into the vehicle, she clapped her hands. “Oh, I love it! It’s so roomy.” She started pushing buttons.
“Hey, we don’t need air conditioning on in October.” I pushed a button to shut it off. “I thought you liked your little car.”
“Oh, Jennifer, I do and I’m deeply grateful for the parishioners for giving it to me. The gas mileage is awesome. I just wish they had thought about how long my legs are. I just don’t fit in it. Besides, I love this heated seat. My rump is nice and toasty.”
“Good. Now get ready to get your rump out of here and into the funeral home—I mean funeral chapel. And keep your ears open; you might hear something useful.”
I parked the SUV and met Bernie just inside the front door. There were only about two dozen people in the room we were directed to. The sign on the door said “Reposing Room 1.” I didn’t see anyone reposing in this room. Whitney’s body was still being held by the county medical examiner.
I noticed Yvonne Jackson talking to some people near the front of the room. I told Bernie I’d catch up with her when the service started and made my way over to speak with Yvonne. Several people who were coffee customers stopped me to say hello. When I walked up behind her, the two men she was speaking with turned and walked away.
Before she could spot me and get away again, I came up on her left side and grasped her arm above the elbow. “Mrs. Jackson! I was hoping I’d see you here. Megan told me that you like the coffee I was serving at Charlie’s events, so I brought you a pound of my best blend. I’ll get it for you after the service.”
“Oh, well, sure. Megan told you that? I never told her anything.” I noticed the accent on the “her.”
“You don’t like Megan?” I asked.
“Like her? Sure, I like her; she’s a very friendly person. I just don’t approve of her relationship with my son. She’ll hold him back.”
“Back from what?”
“The governorship is just the beginning of his political career, my dear. He needs a wife who doesn’t have a half dozen ex-husbands and a houseful of kids.”
“Megan’s only had three husbands and her three kids are all grown up.”
“See, she’s too old for him. You had no business introducing her to my Charlie.”
“Yvonne, you need to get a grip. Megan Murphy was one of Charlie’s biggest fans when he was a rock star. She was the president of his fan club. He’s at least five years older than her. Besides, I didn’t introduce her to him. Do you really think she needs help in that department?”
“I guess you’re right. I just want him to win this election so much. He deserves this. It would make everything okay.”
“Yvonne, he’s succeeded at everything he’s attempted. His band made him a rock star and now he’s a real estate mogul. Why would you think he won’t succeed in being elected governor?”
“I suppose . . . I mean, you know, oh dear.”
“What do you mean, it would make everything okay?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing, dear.”
Dear? When did I become dear to her? As long as I was apparently in her good graces, I asked, “Yvonne, how well did Charlie know Whitney? I’m surprised he isn’t here today.”
“He’s hoping to get out of his meeting in time to be here. Wait, what do you mean how well did he know Whitney? Are you insinuating that he had something to do with—? Get away from me you horrible person!” She turned and walked toward the back of the room. Just then Charlie walked in and Yvonne linked her arm in his and began talking to him, smiling and laughing. Guess she wasn’t talking about me.
“Is that how you do all your snooping? Do you have any friends left?” I turned to look at Megan Murphy.
“I sure blew that, didn’t I?”
“No, Yvonne is totally overprotective of Charlie, who doesn’t need her protection.”
“How much did you hear?”
“Charlie dropped me off before he parked the car. I just heard the part about you being a horrible person. What the heck did you say to her?”
Before I could answer, Charlie came over to us, flanked by Yvonne and Bernie.
Bernie said, “Let’s take a seat. I think they’re getting ready to begin.”
Bernie and I sat at the end of the second row while Charlie, Megan and Yvonne took the seats directly behind us. Megan carefully maneuvered them so that Charlie sat between them.
“What time are you meeting Pamela Frey?” Bernie asked me. “Do you think she can tell you anything about Whitney?”
“I don’t know, but she’s Whitney’s cousin, so she might have some insight that her friends don’t have.”
Piped in organ music cut into our conversation. The service was brief and befitting for a woman who died so young and so violently. There were no eulogies by her friends and relatives. The minister spoke of her being in a better place. I’ve always thought that it was stupid to say that to someone who just lost a family member. The best place for a loved one is with the people who love her.
I was sure that Whitney was loved by her mother and others even though she wasn’t an easy person to like, much less love.
After the service, Charlie and Megan were the first in line to offer their sympathy. Then they were out the door. When Bernie and I had paid our condolences to Henrietta, we decided to grab some lunch at Chin’s Chinese before I dropped her off at her office.
With our plate heaping with beef and broccoli over fried rice, Bernie and I discussed what had happened at the funeral home. “Do you think Yvonne has always been so overprotective of Charlie? She went ballistic when I asked her if Charlie had ever had a relationship with Whitney.”
Bernie took a sip of water and said, “I’m not sure, Jennifer. I know she loves to brag about him and she’s supportive of his decision to run for public office. She once said to me that she felt it would redeem him from his folly of being a rock ‘n’ roller. Her words not mine.”
“You would have thought that his real estate business would be redemption enough. What a weird choice of words. Redeemed from what?”
Waving a forkful of beef, Bernie said, “I think she’s referring to his standing in the community. She’s sort of obsessed with what others think.”
“Do you think Charlie could have had anything to do with Whitney’s death?”
“Oh, I hope not, Jennifer. He’s so popular and he’s such a nice man. He’s very generous to our organization.”
We were both lost in our own thoughts while we finished our lunch. For Megan and Bernie’s sake, I hoped that Charlie hadn’t been involved with Whitney. However, his name was on the list.
After I got Bernie back to work and turned off all the buttons she had turned on in my car, except for the one that warmed my seat, I stuck my Bluetooth earpiece in my ear so I could talk to Decker while I drove over to the library. I couldn’t wait to find out what Jacobs had told him.
Decker answered on the second ring. Before he would tell me what he had l
earned at his meeting with Jacobs, he wanted to know what I’d learned at the memorial service. I told him about my encounter with Yvonne Jackson. “I don’t know why she got so upset with me. He’s single and so is Whitney. So what if they had a relationship? He’d only been seeing Megan for a couple months, so he wasn’t even cheating on her. Do you think he could have had something to do with Whitney’s death?”
I heard Decker sigh. “I don’t know, Jennifer. Jacobs checked further into his alibi and it seems that he hasn’t been completely honest.”
“He lied? What did he lie about?”
“Hey, everybody lies. Didn’t you learn that last summer? He said he went from the press conference to dinner with some businessmen who were supporting his candidacy. Turns out, he was seen leaving the press conference at the Shining Star hall about three-thirty. His dinner meeting at the Schnitzel Haus was at five o’clock. The hostess there said that Charlie rushed in about five minutes after all the other men and women had arrived. According to the hostess—her name was Marge—his clothes were a little disheveled. He ran his hands through his hair and straightened his tie before he asked her in what room the meeting was being held.”
“Wow. He sure had enough time to kill Whitney. I got to Trudy’s at about three-fifteen. Our class is for two hours so it must have been about quarter to five when Harold came in yelling about Whitney sleeping.”
“Charlie could make it from Itzig to Hermann in less than fifteen minutes. However, if he did drag her into the woods, then walk to wherever he had parked his car, he could have arrived at the Schnitzel Haus close to five-oh-five. Yep, timeline fits. Damn! I was hoping we had eliminated him as a suspect.”
“Is Jacobs going to arrest him?”
Decker said, “No, Jennifer. He doesn’t have anything to warrant an arrest. The deputies are checking with people in Itzig to see if anyone noticed him or saw his car parked around there. He could have walked from anywhere in Itzig to the group home in just a few minutes.”
“Jerry, what about the list? Maybe Whitney didn’t have an affair with Charlie. Maybe she knew about a child that he had with someone else—a child who might become an embarrassment to him and jeopardize his political career. Should I tell Megan?”
“No, don’t do that, Jennifer,” Decker said. “She’s better off not knowing anything about it. Keep it to yourself for now. Jacobs is looking for some evidence and he’s also checking into the love child thing.”
“Well, okay, but I don’t like it. Megan should know that Charlie is a suspect.”
“She probably already knows that. You just keep snooping around and see what you come up with. Stay away from Charlie and his mother. She might tell Charlie that you’re snooping and that could put you in danger. So keep it on the down-low, okay?”
“I guess so. I’m in the library parking lot right now. I’m meeting with Pamela Frey in about twenty minutes. I’m going to go in and poke around through some old newspapers and yearbooks. I don’t know how it will help, but maybe Whitney’s friends from high school will have some information for us.”
“Okay, call me later and we’ll get together. Your place or mine, Sweetheart?” He sounded like Humphrey Bogart.
“You letch! I can practically see your eyebrows wiggling! My place. Bring food!” I hung up laughing.
I took the earpiece from my ear and tossed it in my purse. I might still have a little time to get in some research before I met with Pam Frey.
The plaque set in the bricks of the Hermann Public Library stated that it was built in 1957. Like many buildings of that era, it was a red brick rectangle with high windows and glass doors at the entrance. Upon entering, I saw a sign that informed me that the Children’s Library was downstairs. I could get there by the stairs or an elevator that was located across from the staircase.
The first thing I did was to find where the back issues of the Maron County Herald were located. They only went back a few months. After a few minutes of looking around aimlessly, a tall skeletal man, wearing black jeans and a bright western shirt asked if he could help me find something. He then showed me how to find the right roll of microfilm. He reached into his pocket, took out something red, and popped it into his mouth. His name tag reading, “Mort Kelley, Reference Librarian.” His name may have been Irish but he had an olive complexion and dark brown hair. I suspected he was at least part Native American.
The next time he reached into his pocket, I watched him pull out a green peanut M&M and slide it into his mouth. I thanked Mort for helping me and watched him return to the reference desk. Unlike many tall people, Mort didn’t slouch. Although he was at least 6’2”, his posture was perfect and the bearing of his head and body were as straight as a yardstick.
I spun the roll of film until I figured out the right speed to peruse the old newspapers. I wondered how long it would be until all this was on the internet and these old machines would be put out to pasture. For now, this was all I had and I was looking for something special.
Hermann is still a small town, even with the recent addition of several small subdivisions that stretched the city limits. The editor of the paper knew that regional, state and national news was covered by the media from the Twin Cities. Therefore, the Maron County Herald only printed all the news that was fit to print about people and events in Maron County.
I looked through the issues from six years ago trying to find the photos from the Senior Prom. Usually a reporter is there taking candid shots of the kids dancing and having a good time in the high school gym.
Yes, we still hold our proms in the high school gym. The prom committee looks into having it at a hotel each year, but they always end up in the gym. The cost is lower and everyone can afford to go.
For the past couple years, the senior girls held a gown exchange. Girls brought in gowns they wore in previous years and anyone could use them for the prom. After the prom, the girls had the gowns cleaned, then returned the dresses to be use the next year. They may not have been haut couture but they were high style in Hermann.
Because the Herald was a weekly paper, it didn’t take very long to find the prom issue. There were two pages of photos, with captions. Several overviews, taken from the balcony, showed the kids dancing to fast and slow songs, while others were if teens at the refreshment tables. I was glad I didn’t cater the proms; that would be a huge headache.
I was checking the pictures of groups who posed for pictures. Most were of couples, two or three to a shot. There was one of six guys all making faces at the camera. There were several with just girls. I recognized Whitney and her friends from the yearbook picture. One picture was almost identical to the yearbook photo except there were four girls in prom dresses instead of three. I read the caption under the picture. Left to right: Kimberly Adler, Gina Lang, Whitney Wentworth, Pamela Frey.
It appeared that three of the girls were at the Prom without dates. At least, I could only find one picture of Gina dancing with a tall blond guy. Odd. I thought that cheerleaders dated the big handsome football players. Shows how much I know. I hardly knew anyone in my senior year in Illinois. I hadn’t even attended my senior prom. On the other hand, maybe Natalie was right about Whitney’s sexual preference.
I had forgotten to bring along the yearbook that Whitney’s mother gave me. I went up to the reference desk and asked the librarian if they had the high school yearbooks. The librarian showed me where they were and I pulled out the one from the year after Whitney’s class.
Paging through the book I found Pam. She was the stunning brunette, standing next to gorgeous Gina, who was the prettiest girl of the four. The only information that was under Pam’s name was “German Club” and “Choir” and the two years she participated. It looked like in her senior year all she did was attend classes. She didn’t belong to any of the clubs nor did she participate in any sports. Unlike the other three girls, she wasn’t a cheerleader.
Continuing my search through the yearbook, I located the section with pictures of the
faculty. Under each name was a little blurb about each teacher. The yearbook editors were too polite to say anything nasty, so it took a little time to figure out the students’ favorites.
I found two young women who appeared to be in their first year of teaching—Mrs. Mary Kingston and Ms. Bobbitt Murphy. Wait a minute, I knew the second one. Bobby Murphy was Megan’s cousin. Blond, petite and cute as a button, she was sure to be the favorite of most of the girls in her class. I never thought of her as a teacher. She was perky and bouncy and drove me to distraction whenever I attended one of Megan’s family parties.
The Murphys loved family get-togethers and they were a noisy and happy family. I loved the way they all hugged each other. My family was so reserved we barely shook hands with each other. Not the Murphys. Hugging, slapping on the back, big sloppy kisses on the cheek. They were so alive. They always had a drink in hand. Beer and wine for the adults, soda for the kids. They all seemed so happy to be with each other.
Bobby would always come over and talk to me, not that she ever seemed interested in what I said in answer to her inquiries about my health, business or love life. Bobby would ask how I was, and then look around to see who she could go talk to when I shut up. I learned early to just tell her I was fine and let it go. One time I told her that I was working part-time in a brothel. She just nodded and said, “That’s nice” before she took off waving to a good-looking guy who had just walked in.
I knew that she was still teaching at the high school. The last I heard, Bobby taught junior and senior English and was the faculty advisor to the Hermann High newspaper staff.
Maybe Megan could find out what Bobby knew about these women when they were in high school. I pulled out my cell phone to call Megan. Mr. Kelley snapped his fingers at me. When I looked up, he shook his head and waved his finger back and forth. Oops! Guess I couldn’t use my phone in here. I’d have to remember to call Megan about Bobbie later. I took a few notes and printed out the picture of the four girls at the prom. It turned out grainy and not very clear, still it would do for my purposes.