by S F Bose
“You were great. Seriously. This will really help us,” I assured her. Sam’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. Angela gave us a relieved smile.
“One thing,” Sam said and we both looked at him. “There’s a good chance this man wasn’t the killer. Don’t stress out too much about that. It doesn’t sound like he was even aware of you.”
Angela gave Sam a probing look. “Thank you,” she said finally. “I have been worrying about that.” She looked more relieved.
I turned off the recorder and thanked her for talking to us. Sam gave her a business card in case she remembered anything else. After shaking hands with her, we walked out of the dining room and turned right toward the cash register.
“Everything okay?” Abbie asked.
“Yes. Angela was a big help. Thanks for introducing us,” I said. Abbie smiled.
When Sam paid the bill for our lunch, he asked, “Can you put Angela’s lunch on my tab and I’ll pay it tomorrow? She deserves a break.”
Abbie’s eyes softened. “You bet, sweetie. That’s nice of you. But she usually has just pie and coffee.”
Sam hesitated. Then he looked at Abbie. “Can you give her a whole pie to go or something?”
Abbie laughed. “I sure can, Sam. I’ll do that.”
It was nice of Sam, I thought. I smiled as I followed him out of the Farmhouse Café. He was growing on me.
Chapter 21
When we returned to the office, I saw an envelope stuck between the door and the frame. “Wonder why they didn’t use the mail slot,” I said, pulling the envelope free. Each office door had a secured brass slot that the mail carrier used. Mail dropped into a lock box on the inside of the door.
I glanced at the printed address label. It said, “Sam Nolan Investigations” on the front. I handed it to Sam and unlocked the office door. Sam followed me in and entered the code to disable the alarm. Then he headed to his office.
“Give me five minutes and we can chat,” he said.
“Okay.” I hung up my coat in my office and sat at my desk thinking about Angela Apstead. She seemed credible and while she hadn’t exonerated Ben, she also hadn’t nailed him as the fleeing man either. I grabbed my notebook, made a cup of caramel cappuccino, and returned to Sam’s office. He sat behind his desk, frowning at a piece of paper lying on his desk.
“Check this out,” he said, sliding it over to me by the edge. “Better to not pick it up.”
I set my coffee cup on a coaster on Sam’s desk and looked down at the letter. It was typed on white paper and unsigned.
I leaned down and looked closely at the text. Then I read the note aloud. “Damian Fletcher was at the Emporium the day of Justin Church’s killing. He met with Justin Church. You need to investigate him.”
I looked up at Sam. “Is the envelope any help?”
“No. It’s a standard business envelope. The name is typed and nothing else inside.”
I looked down and scanned the letter a second time. “My first thought is Finnegan. Casting suspicion on the man he hates.”
“That was my thought too. Maybe setting up Fletcher is the plan he had in mind,” Sam said and paused. “But what if it’s true?”
“Damian Fletcher? That’s pretty far-fetched.”
Sam’s shoulders rose and fell. “I’m not saying Damian had anything to do with the murder. But what if he did stop by the Emporium that day?”
“You’ve seen Damian recently. Does he have a white beard and mustache?” I asked.
“It’s more gray than white. Neatly trimmed.”
I made a face and looked down at the letter. “Well, we could show the letter to him and see how he reacts. He also might know if Justin had any business deals with Sweet or someone else.”
“I’ll set up a meeting. We’ll take a photocopy, though. We need to turn the original over to Chief Durand.”
“Sounds good. So what did you think of Angela?” I asked, sitting down on the guest chair and cradling my coffee mug.
“Very credible. She has a great eye for detail. Did anything leap out at you?” he asked.
“I thought she was credible too. Although I had hoped she’d identify Mark Sweet as the man leaving the Emporium. One thing, though. Ben lives in blue jeans and tee shirts. He’s partial to an old, olive-green field jacket he got years ago. When the weather gets down to freezing, he wears a black parka. I don’t think he owns a long, dress coat or dark pants. He sometimes wears an old trapper hat in the winter, but I’ve never seen him in any type of brimmed hat.”
“We can confirm that when we talk to Ben tomorrow. Does Mark Sweet wear glasses?”
I thought back to Christmas when I had seen Mark at the B&B with his wife. “Yes, but I couldn’t tell you what kind. Ben wears black wire rims.”
“Okay, we have Sweet and a mystery man as possible suspects. It helps Ben if we can increase the suspect pool,” Sam said.
“But Angela didn’t think Sweet was the man she saw,” I pointed out.
“No, she said she couldn’t swear either way. She had a quick encounter with a bearded man who kept his head down. She didn’t identify Sweet but she didn’t eliminate him either.”
“You’re right. That’s a good point,” I agreed, looking down at my notebook.
“Now, what exactly am I walking into with your mother tomorrow?” he asked.
I looked up in surprise. His eyes locked on mine and I felt my face heat up.
“Like I said earlier, she’s Type A. She’s driven, impatient, controlling. Likes things done her way. Very direct.”
“What kind of mom was she?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I heard the edge in my voice.
“It’ll help me understand her,” Sam replied.
I took a deep breath to calm myself. “She was always more focused on Brian and Becky, my older brother and sister. I heard Grandma Addie say once that Mom wanted to expose them to everything. She brought them to all sorts of activities like ballet, skating, and other sports. They had to do well in school, of course. By the time my younger sister, Katie, and I came along, I think she was more relaxed about parenting and also less interested.”
“Less interested in the two of you?”
“Not so much that. I think she was just busier with her job and didn’t want to go through the same process with us. She signed us up for sports and activities, but rarely drove us there. Addie and Nana Anna were always home and drove us to sports and events. Then Aunt Grace moved back when I was ten years old and she helped too.”
“And your dad?”
“Much more kid-oriented. Liked to play with us and talk to us. But he was away at work a lot.”
“Okay, tell me about your mom’s relationship with Ben,” Sam said
I shook my head. “Weird. When Mom’s father died, she and her sister inherited some money and property in Austria. Mom and Dad had already divorced and she was dating Ben. After the inheritance, she retired early from the University and moved in with Ben.”
“What’s weird about that?”
“They’re polar opposites! Mom is like the perfect tornado and Ben is like waves gently lapping on the beach. She’s tense, hyperactive, and always thinking three or four projects ahead. He’s usually very calm and relaxed. Mom loves to travel abroad. Ben refuses to go with her anymore. His idea of a vacation is kayaking down a river and camping in a tent. Mom likes to buy presents for her grandkids. Ben is a skinflint. He’d much rather see her make stuff for the twins. It goes on and on.”
“Was Ben ever married or have kids?” Sam asked.
“No marriage that he’s ever mentioned. He’s had women friends. No kids that I know about.”
Sam shifted in his chair. “Interesting. Okay, so Ben and your mom are polar opposites. No common interests at all?”
“Oh they have common interests. They both like bowling, hiking, skiing, kayaking, cycling, and gardening. They both read and watch movies. They love to debate issues. Ben likes being w
ith our family. Mom’s a gourmet cook and Ben loves to eat whatever she makes. Their latest obsession is pickleball.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Pickleball?”
“Yeah. It’s a racquet sport with small paddles. There’s an outdoor court at a park near them. They’re crazy about it,” I said and sipped some coffee.
Sam chuckled. “Never heard of it. Is Ben retired too?”
“No. He’s an inventor. I don’t think he’ll ever stop tinkering and inventing. He built a separate building that he calls his laboratory. He spends a lot of time in there. Sometimes he works on joint projects with one of his college buddies, who’s also an inventor.”
Sam looked interested. “Has he invented anything I’d recognize?”
I shook my head. “No idea. All I know is he has all sorts of patents and makes money by licensing them.”
Sam spun his pen around his middle finger and then nodded. “Okay, let’s go back to Ben and your mom. Is she the dominant person in their relationship?”
I laughed. “She’s the louder of the two. But Ben has more influence over her than she has over him.”
“How so?”
“Ben is usually calm and logical. When Mom goes on a rant about something, he just stays calm and wears her down. For example, he wanted to get some goats so they could have goat’s milk and make cheese. Mom was totally and loudly opposed to it. Ben kept promoting the idea, took her to goat farms, and six months later she caved. Now they have two or three milk goats.”
“Got it,” Sam said. “Goats are kind of neat.”
I looked at him and he just smiled. “Okay, how does all of this help you?” I asked.
He leaned back in his chair and yawned. “I know their back stories now. I won’t be meeting total strangers. However, to both of them, I’ll be an unknown quantity. It can help,” he said.
A light bulb went on in my head and I grinned. “It gives you an edge,” I said and he smiled broadly.
Chapter 22
After the meeting with Sam, I spent time catching up on email, phone calls, and other paperwork. After reviewing the completed background checks, I did a summary, and emailed those to Sam.
Then I opened a new online case file for Ben Katz. Sam had trained me in the online case system my first week at the agency. I entered a summary of the information we got from Angela and uploaded the voice recorder audio file. I also entered some of the impressions I’d picked up from Abbie and my cousins. Any time Sam or I updated the case file, we’d both get an email and text message. I wouldn’t do a full profile for Ben until we had a signed contract. If Ben and Mom didn’t hire us, I’d just delete the file.
I was brewing yet another cup of coffee in the kitchenette when I heard the front door chimes. When I got to Sam’s office, Newmont and Joyce Tani were chatting with him.
“Hi y’all,” I said and they greeted me.
Ron was in jeans, turtleneck sweater, and winter field coat. He wore a black felt cowboy hat with a thin, silver band and a decorative feather. With his chevron mustache, he really did look like a cowboy. I half expected to see western boots, but he was wearing heavy hiking boots.
Next to him, Joyce wore a winter parka over a crew neck blue sweater, black pants, and winter boots. She was 34 years old and of Japanese heritage. They were a study in contrasts. While Newmont was routinely serious and reserved, Joyce was usually cheerful and outgoing, Physically, Newmont was a big man, and Joyce was very petite. I noticed the quick looks they exchanged and smiled. They made a nice couple.
“Let’s go to the conference room. We can spread out more,” Sam said. I led the way.
“Would you like some coffee or anything else to drink?” I offered.
“No, I’m good, thanks,” Newmont replied.
“I’ll take any coffee you have,” Joyce said with a smile.
“Would you like caramel cappuccino?” I asked and her eyes lit up.
“Are you kidding? Do cats like tuna? Yes!” Joyce replied and I laughed.
“Be back in a flash,” I said.
“Can I help you?” Joyce asked.
“No, it’s just next door. Have a seat,” I called back.
I returned with two steaming cups of caramel cappuccino and put one on the table in front of Joyce. Sam jumped up to get us coasters. Joyce and Newmont sat on one side of the table and Sam and I sat opposite them.
Joyce and I both sipped our coffee and murmured appreciatively. “Can’t beat caramel,” she said and I nodded.
I saw a look pass between Sam and Newmont and said smugly, “You two don’t know what you’re missing.” They both chuckled.
Newmont put his hat on the table and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. Joyce shrugged out of her parka and they both looked at us expectantly.
“Thanks for stopping by,” Sam said. “We’ve been approached by a potential client who Matt Durand considers a person of interest in Justin Church’s murder. I know there are things you can’t tell us. However, we’re hoping to get a better idea of what happened that day, before we meet with the possible client and his family.
“This is off the record?” Newmont drawled. His blue eyes locked on Sam.
“Completely confidential. And if we uncover evidence pertinent to the case, we’ll give it to you immediately.”
Newmont nodded and folded his big hands on the table. “Okay. Well, we’ve confirmed that Peter and Martha were in Madison from Sunday afternoon until they returned late Monday.
“What was going on in Madison?” I asked.
Newmont’s eyes shifted to me. “Sunday night they had dinner with some old friends. On Monday, they had a luncheon meeting with a possible buyer for some Civil War stamps they brought with them. After that, they spent time with their daughter, who lives in Madison with her children.”
“So they’re in the clear,” Sam said.
“Right,” said Newmont. He took his small notebook out of his coat pocket and flipped through it. “They left Justin in charge and he was supposed to open the Emporium on Monday, but he never did. We haves a witness who saw a bearded man exit out the back door of the Emporium at 4:54 p.m. She didn’t recognize him but thought something was off. When he walked fast toward Founders Road, the witness followed him but he disappeared.”
“Any chance it was Mark Sweet?” I asked.
Newmont shook his head slowly. “No, the timeline would be off, unless Sweet lied to us. The witness couldn’t say whether it was Sweet or not.”
“And nobody has come forward about gunshots?” asked Sam.
“No. The shooter must have used a suppressor,” Newmont replied.
“I don’t suppose Martha and Peter have a security camera inside the Emporium?” I asked.
Newmont clicked his teeth. “They have motion-activated cameras in some of the second floor rooms where they have items for sale. They also have a monitor in their office. Those cameras have digital recorders. We reviewed the footage and there was nothing helpful from Monday. Unfortunately, there aren’t any cameras on the first floor. Then they have an alarm system, but that was off when we arrived.”
“No help there,” said Sam and pushed his Irish cap back on his head.
“Okay so we have a mystery man exiting at 4:54 p.m. What was Sweet’s story?” I asked.
Newmont shifted in his chair. “Mark Sweet said he stopped at the Emporium to talk to Justin Church about a business deal. Before you ask, I still don’t know the nature of the business deal. Sweet was reticent about those details. He didn’t have an appointment and when he arrived at the Emporium, it was closed.”
“What time did he get there?” I asked.
Newmont checked his notes. “He said he thought it was sometime after 4:45 p.m. He knocked and rang the doorbell and got no response. Then he called Justin’s cellphone and got no answer. He called a second time and left a voicemail message. He made a third and final call but didn’t leave a voicemail. He offered to show us his cellphone call log and we took him up on it
after having him sign an authorization. He had three outbound calls to Justin’s cellphone. The first call was at 4:50 p.m. Sweet hung up and didn’t leave a message. The second call was at 4:52 p.m. Sweet left a voicemail and the call duration was one minute. The third call was at 4:55 p.m. He said he let that call ring three times before hanging up.”
Sam and I grunted at the same time. I added to my notes.
“You checked Justin’s phone?” I asked.
“We did,” Newmont replied. “He didn’t have password protection on his phone. He had the inbound calls in the log, of course. In the voicemail, Mark Sweet said he was outside the Emporium and wanted to talk to him about a new business opportunity.”
“Business opportunity,” Sam repeated.
“Before you ask, we still don’t know the nature of the business arrangement,” said Newmont.
“Okay, after the calls what did Sweet do?” Sam asked.
Newmont leaned forward. “Sweet said he thought Justin was ducking him. So in between the first two cellphone calls, he pounded on the door and rang the doorbell for several more minutes. After the third call, he kicked the door and went around back.”
“Persistent guy,” Sam said.
Newmont flipped to the next page of his notes.
“Mr. Sweet said he was very upset at that point. He was sure Justin or his parents were in the Emporium and ignoring him. When he went around the side of the house, he saw the lights on in one room, which made him even angrier. At the rear of the Emporium, he found the back door was slightly open. Sweet entered the Emporium, calling Justin’s name. He said the back of the Emporium was pitch black. He headed toward the front of the Emporium and saw light coming from a room on the left, which he knew was the parlor,” said Newmont.
“He knew it was the parlor?” I asked.
Newmont looked up from his notes. “Yes. He said he’d been to the Emporium many times.” Clearing his throat, he continued,
“Sweet went into the room and found Justin on the floor. He stopped when he reached the first chair. He saw that Justin’s eyes were wide open and there was blood. Then he panicked. He thought the killer was still in the Emporium, so he ran out the back door. He waited outside for a bit to calm down. Then he came back toward the Emporium and called the police.”