Death by Nostalgia

by Andrew Stanek

  “Mrs. Hamilton, please, sit down and try to stay calm,” Alders said quietly. “We’re going to go take a look around your house. We’ll speak to you in a few moments.”

  One of the police officers guided Mrs. Hamilton gently back back down into a chair and offered her something to drink; a nearby paramedic was trying to take her pulse.

  “Later,” Alders murmured to Felix who’d taken a step towards her. “Give her a few minutes.”

  They looked around the house with interest, navigating through the kitchen and the living room without results. When they came to the study, however, Felix started to look around with interest. It was a fairly tidy room with a long carpet sweeping out to the side. Two bookshelves sat on either end of a large desk near the far side of the room, which faced away from a single panoramic window behind it. One wall had a bulletin board with many pins stuck into it, a filing cabinet beneath it. A large object, a bit like a walking cane with a round metal disk on the end and wires looping around it, was leaning against one of the bookshelves. Alders approached it and looked at it dubiously.

  “What is this?” he asked, examining the object. “Looks like some sort of radio antenna.”

  “It’s a metal detector,” said Felix with a glance at it.

  “What would the Hamiltons want with a metal detector?”

  “Some people are hobbyists. They use it to look around for things. Ah, yes...”

  He opened a small box on the desk to find several rows of old coins, sitting on a bed of velvet.

  “This is a coin collection, unless I’m much mistaken. If I had to guess I’d say it’s Mr. Hamilton who’s the collector, not Mrs. Hamilton. This looks like this is his room rather than hers.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Felix gestured towards the bulletin board on the wall. “These are all clippings about real estate development plans. Filings with the city planning commission, information about sites. Look, here’s the old apartments.” He indicated a diagram of the 20th Street housing projects on the wall. “I wonder...” Felix opened the filing cabinet and began to rummage through, eventually drawing out a rather old and musty file. He slapped it down on the desk and opened it.

  “This is the file on the apartment complex?” Alders asked with some interest.

  “Yes. Look, here’s plans for new development on the land. Ah... it seems our Mr. Hamilton wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to redevelop this area. He has a list of investors already lined up to back a new construction project in the area.”

  Felix removed the schedule of investors from the file and began to flip through it. His eyes lit up briefly near the end, and a smile broke over his face.

  “That Hamilton was a wily one. He’s already raised millions, but he’s promising a huge payoff to these investors. He thinks he can buy the land from the government for a song and he’s speculating that property prices will rise sharply after the low income housing is destroyed. These investments he’s been collecting aren’t just for the projects buildings; they’re for all the nearby properties. Hamilton stands to make quite a lot if his speculation pays off.”

  “I see. It does seem a bit ungrateful of him, knocking over the place for profit,” Alders added.

  “Ungrateful, perhaps, but not illegal.”

  “You don’t think he might have killed Adriana for opposing his plans to tear down the apartments?”

  “No. That wouldn’t make sense. I said it before - why kill her for opposing the demolition as the demolition is taking place? He’d already won by the time Adriana died.”

  What’s that?” asked Alders, tapping something in the file. Felix put down the investment information and peered at the item Alders was touching.

  “It looks like a newspaper clipping.” He drew it out. “No, I’m wrong. It’s a picture of a much older clipping.”

  The small cutting appeared to be a print-out of a picture of an old newspaper article. Whenever the article had been written, it was clearly ancient at the time the picture was taken. Reddish brown blotches spotted the yellowing newsprint, with the edges of the paper curling with age. Nevertheless, the text was quite readable. The title was not visible, and the picture apparently contained only the middle of the article. Alders began to read it aloud.

  “‘-buildings damaged in last week’s earthquake included the 20th Street Army Depot, which was totally destroyed by the disaster. A spokesman for the Army said that all personnel had evacuated the depot with only minor injuries, but a significant amount of materiel was lost and remains buried in the rubble. Of particular note was a small shipment of gold bullion being stored at the depot overnight on its way to a treasury depository in Kentucky. The US Treasury has offered a $50 reward for the safe return of the gold shipment.’ That’s the end of the article. The words ‘shipment of gold bullion’ are unlined here.”

  A smile crept over Felix’s features.

  “Do you think we should claim our $50 from the treasury?”

  “Very funny,” Alders snapped back. “But I think I’m starting to see the shape of things here. This newspaper clipping is from 1918, right after the earthquake. That alcove must have been some kind of safe in the back of the armory, and that’s where they were storing this missing bullion. Judging from the metal detector, Mr. Hamilton was a treasure hunter. He probably wanted to find this bullion. But that doesn’t explain why he killed Adriana Kettering.”

  “Maybe he didn’t,” Felix said quietly.

  “What do you mean, ‘maybe he didn’t?’ He was the one in the room when Adriana Kettering died, wasn’t he?”

  “I believe he was, but that doesn’t prove he killed her. What if the real killer escaped down the passageway on the other side before Davey arrived? Davey would have been too late to see the killer, but Mr. Hamilton - if he’d been secreted in the alcove all along, looking for the treasure - perhaps trying to force the lock...”

  “-and then he hears the gunshot, comes out of the alcove, and sees the killer?” Alders suggested.

  “The killer flees, then comes back the next day to silence him so he can’t tell anyone else,” Felix finished.

  “But why wouldn’t he have told us?”

  “Because then he would have had to tell us about the gold bullion. If Mr. Hamilton hid in the alcove yesterday, then he certainly found the gold. He’s a treasure hunter. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to give it back. The US treasury would probably take the gold in a heartbeat. I doubt they’d even honor their offer of a reward.”

  “Of course, he might just have killed Adriana himself,” Alders added. “But I think that within a community like this, two murders in two days by two different people is unlikely. We have a circle of seven people. How likely is it that they have two killers in the bunch?”

  “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility,” Felix commented, his hand lingering over Mr. Hamilton’s coin collection. “People are funny.” As Felix’s fingers brushed an old silver dollar, Alders made an exasperated noise and slapped Felix’s hand away from the coins.

  Another half hour or so passed as they searched the remainder of the house, but they found little else of particular interest. When they’d finished combing through the bedroom, Alders finally suggested that they return to interview Mrs. Hamilton.

  Mrs. Hamilton was sitting heavily in a chair in the kitchen, her previously matronly face now stained with tears. Her color had changed from blotchy to pale white since last they saw her.

  “Detective?” she asked feebly. “Do you have any idea who might have done this?”

  “We’re still investigating, but we think yesterday’s murder and today’s must have been linked. Do you feel as though you can answer some questions for us?”

  She nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “Can you describe for us, in your own words, what happened?”

  “I don’t know. I came home from the store and our front door was open... I had the most horrible feeling that something was wrong, and when I walked
in the door... there he was... lying there... I’ve already told the other officers all this.”

  “You didn’t see or hear the murderer, or hear a gunshot?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Felix walked behind Mrs. Hamilton and gave her a comforting sort of pat on the shoulder.

  “Can you think of anyone who’d want to do your husband harm?”

  “Harm William? It’s unthinkable! He was such a loving, caring man.”

  Unseen by Mrs. Hamilton, Felix shot Alders a skeptical look.

  “Did you husband have any unusual hobbies?” Alders continued steadily.

  “Hobbies? Well, he collected coins and other trinkets. He looked for them on - on the beach and so forth, with that old metal detector. It’s around here somewhere.”

  “Would you describe him as a treasure hunter?”

  “I - I don’t know. He certainly has - had - a fascination with treasure. He had some old books on the subject. Why?”

  “Just an idea that occurred to us.”

  However, Mrs. Hamilton did not look reassured. On the contrary, she appeared flustered. “You don’t think he found anything really valuable, did he? Was this all some sort of robbery gone terribly wrong?”

  “Have you noticed anything missing, Mrs. Hamilton?”

  “No, but I didn’t look through his things-”

  “His coin collection did not appear disturbed when we examined it,” Alders said firmly. “Now, we’ll you need to come down to the station-”

  Alders concluded the conversation by giving her a combination of reassurances and instructions for what she should do in the aftermath of her husband’s death. He turned to walk away, but Felix lingered for a moment.

  “Mrs. Hamilton, may I ask you a few more - somewhat unrelated questions?”

  “Go ahead,” she said, though her voice quivered slightly.

  “You don’t have any children?”

  Her whole body shook. “No.”

  “Whose idea was it to move into the apartments on 20th street? Yours or your husband’s?”

  She looked momentarily surprised, even through her grief. “That was a long time ago. I suppose - I suppose it must have been Will’s. I think he came to regret it, though. He never much liked the building.”

  “I understand you are a teacher?”

  “Yes. I teach at Marian High School - it’s a charter school in the county.”

  “And what do you teach?”

  “Performing arts.”

  “Is it true that your employment at a local school was terminated some years ago due to suspicion you were involved in a cheating scandal?”

  Mrs. Hamilton breathed in sharply. “Yes,” she said after a pause.

  “How is it possible to cheat on a performing arts exam?”

  “I used to teach English and language arts as well. I - I don’t any more.”

  “I see. And do you have any idea how the district found out about your - involvement in this cheating scandal?”

  “No.”

  Felix nodded his head. “I see. Thank you for your patience, Mrs. Hamilton. If it is any comfort, I am quite certain that we will catch your husband’s killer.”

  With that, he swept out of the room.

  “What was that all about?” inquired Alders in the foyer.

  “I had a few questions about her record as an educator. She denies knowing anything about Adriana’s alleged involvement in her dismissal. Where are we going now?” Felix asked as they ducked back into Alders’ car.

  “Back to the station,” replied the other. “I need to think this through a little. One thing’s for sure: Chief won’t be able to ignore two murders. He’s bound to put more people on this investigation now.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Felix muttered.

  Alders shot him a sharp look but got no further explanation. As they were driving, Alders started to shake his head.

  “No sign of the murder weapon this time, but the responding officers told me it was a large-caliber rifle. Sound familiar?”

  “Indeed.”

  “And there can’t be any mistaken identity this time,” Alders added as he drove. “Will Hamilton was murdered in broad daylight by someone who came to his door. He was definitely the intended target. But who would want to kill Will Hamilton?”

  “Anyone else who potentially knew about the gold could see him as a rival for the payoff,” Felix suggested. “As for more specific motive...” He suddenly trailed off, then fell silent. “I’ve been thinking about this the wrong way. We need to view the murder of Will Hamilton in terms of expectations.”

  “What do you mean expectations?”

  “I mean what everyone involved in the case expects of each other. What they expect each other to do and to have done. What they know about the case and they know about each other.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Never mind. But in terms of motive, I don’t feel there are any particularly clear motives for killing Will Hamilton, except perhaps Reva Hamilton. If the blackmail theory is true, and Reva discovered Will was having an affair, Reva might have killed him in jealously.”

  “I don’t see her as the jealous wife,” Alders said, shaking his head. “Also, she seemed quite genuinely upset to see him dead.”

  “Ah... but Mrs. Hamilton is a performing arts teacher, which means she teaches acting.”

  There was a pregnant silence as Alders considered this.

  “Maybe, but I still don’t feel we have a strong case against anyone. Have we seriously considered the possibility that an outsider could be responsible for these killings? Someone that hasn’t come up in our inquiries might have a motive.”

  Felix shook his head. “That seems very unlikely to me. Already, the qualifications necessary to be our killer are so stringent that we are having trouble fitting any of the existing suspects into any plausible narrative. A killer would have to lure Adriana to exactly the right place at exactly the right time. He would have to know that weapons can be found in the back room of the bunker, and, lastly, he would need the motive to kill. No one has offered a plausible explanation for how Adriana came to be in the bunker at the time of the demolition, when it was most dangerous and inadvisable. No one has admitted to knowing the weapons were in the back room. No one has suitable motive for murder. We are completely in the dark.”

  “I think it must have been Mr. Hamilton. Maybe there was something to all this about the blackmail. Maybe Adriana was blackmailing him, so he decided he would kill her.”

  “The trouble then, is - of course - that we must solve the murder of William Hamilton. If we are prepared to accept that there are two different killers, one of whom is Will Hamilton, then who killed Will Hamilton? And how does the gold bullion fit into your idea that Hamilton killed Adriana over blackmail?”

  Alders shook his head, though his eyes remained fixed on the road as he drove. “Maybe he found the bullion previously and intended to use it to pay her off, or else the blackmail was bankrupting him and he located the gold, and decided he would retrieve it and end the blackmail in one fell swoop. Or maybe he used the bullion to lure her there somehow. I’ve got it - he found the bullion earlier and told her where it was in payment of the blackmail. She’s been transporting it out bit by bit, and on the day of the murder he intercepted her and killed her.”

  “No,” Felix said slowly. “That does not fit the facts. Actually, I do not believe Adriana Kettering was involved in any sort of criminal activity down in the bunker. She went out of her way to try to convince her friends to accompany her down to the bunker after it was suggested by Peter. I do not see why she would have done that if she’d been intending to accomplish blackmail or illicitly smuggle gold out of the alcove. She was, by all accounts, an intelligent young woman and such a thing would have been very foolish.”

  To this, Alders had no reply. He pulled into the station in silence. However, the silence did not last long.

  As they walked into the doorway,
a familiar voice called, “Detective!”

  Alders and Felix turned to see a young fair-haired man in a sergeant’s uniform standing in the lobby of the station.

  “Mr. Ulverson,” Alders greeted him. “What can we do for you?”

  “I’d heard that Mr. Hamilton had been murdered and I came straight here,” Peter explained breathlessly. “I wanted to know if there was anything else I can to do help.”

  “How did you hear about the murder?” Alders asked with a frown.

  “It was on the radio-”

  Alders’ frown became a scowl. “The Chief won’t like that. That’ll mean press conferences and media questions and all kinds of other inconveniences. There’s nothing you can to do help, Mr. Ulverson, thank you. You may wish to stay with a friend tonight, though, or on your base if you have one. I don’t wish to alarm you, but you may be a target of our killer as well.”

  Peter did not look remotely alarmed; on the contrary, he wore a steady but grim expression. He nodded and turned to go, but Felix suddenly called him back.

  “Wait, Sergeant Ulverson. You may be able to help in some small way by answering a few questions about the background of the case. I just need to fill in a few holes.”

  “Anything to help,” Peter replied politely. Felix escorted him to the interview room and Alders, looking bemused, followed them. When Peter was comfortably seated, Felix produced a small photograph from his pocket. The picture portrayed six children and two adults. Alders nearly fainted.

  “Felix, that photograph was from Adriana Kettering’s room!” he hissed, outraged.

  “Indeed. And it is highly relevant evidence, or so I believe.”

  “Highly relevant evidence my foot,” Alders muttered. “I ought to search you every time we leave a building.”

  Felix ignored him and pushed the photograph towards Peter.

  “Who is this person?” Felix asked, pointing to a tall, blond young man on the edge of the picture.

  Peter suddenly stiffened. “That’s my brother, Oscar.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  The request seemed to put Peter off-balance. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to know?”