Deadly Diaries

by C. E. Waterman

  What made her dream such a strange dream? She laughed when she thought about the silliness of Lucinda and her against Jonathan and Edward. And what was the bluebird about anyway? Then she remembered her aunt’s diary. Didn’t she say something about seeing a bluebird at Lindy’s? A picture of the dream flashed through her mind. Jonathan twisting his head—wait! She didn’t say a bluebird; she said Bluebird. She and Maggie used to laugh about Jonathan being birdlike in his movements.

  Esther used to say he was light on his feet, and when he jerked his head, it was like a bluebird in her garden. Esther must have seen Jonathan at the luncheon, but he didn’t see her.

  And Lucinda said Edward was angry about some “mess” Jonathan had made three weeks ago. The luncheon was at least a couple weeks before that.

  Could it have been the same event? How could Esther have threatened Jonathan? If she knew something damaging, she wouldn’t have said, unless it had been criminal. If it had been, she would have told the police. And what else would be serious enough to get her killed, except something illegal?

  Did it have to do with the burglaries in the area? How did they fit in? She bit her lip. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe the killer used the burglaries to mask a calculated murder. The thought writhed in her brain and skittered down to her stomach. She needed to talk to Greg. No, wait. He was with Ginger. Plus, she couldn’t keep calling him. She’d call Mark.

  He answered on the second ring. “Maggie, is everything OK?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Are you at the station?”

  “No, I’m home keeping an eye on Allie. Is there something at the station you need?”

  Maggie paced in the small room. She didn’t want Mark to leave Allie for what might be nothing. “I just wanted to ask when I can get my aunt’s diary back.”

  “We didn’t find anything, so I don’t see any reason you can’t have it back whenever you want. You might want to check with Greg though. He’s the one examining it.”

  “Nice try. You’re as bad as your wife.”

  He chuckled. “Must be contagious. I can call him if you want.”

  “Never mind, I don’t need it right this minute. I’ll check with him tomorrow.” After she hung up, Maggie called the station. She’d feel better if she passed the information along. Then it would be out of her hands.

  “Lister.”

  “Officer Lister, this is Maggie Schreiber. My aunt’s diary is there at the station probably on Greg Williams’ desk, and I need a favor. Can you have someone look and see what day she and her friends had lunch? It’s mentioned near the last of the diary.”

  “Sure, but can you tell me why?”

  “Aunt Esther may have seen something that day. And I think Jonathan was there.”

  “If it was the day of the lunch, we investigated when we heard about Carla. It was the same day his fiancée, Stephanie Franklin, died. Jonathan was at his cousin’s place in Wyoming. Are you saying he wasn’t where he said he was?”

  Maggie tucked her hair behind her ear and chewed on her thumbnail. Should she start something? The Blakes were pretty powerful in Pinon Creek, to say nothing of Monica Tate. A false accusation against Jonathan would be the end of her career. And did she think Jonathan was guilty of murder?

  “Ms. Schreiber? Are you there?”

  She shook her head. It didn’t matter how powerful they were, if he was guilty, he had to be punished. “Yes, I’m here. There was something in Aunt Esther’s last diary about ‘bluebird’ being there. At the time I didn’t notice it, but then a friend overheard Edward tell Jonathan he should have to clean up his own messes, and she said they shipped him off the same day.” Maggie swallowed hard. “Bluebird was the nickname Esther had for Jonathan. I think she saw him.”

  “What else did your source say?”

  “She said it was a Tuesday, about three weeks ago. It would be about the right time, and she said Jonathan has a bad temper. I’ve seen firsthand what he’s like when he gets mad.”

  “OK, Ms. Schreiber, we’ll look into it. But we verified Jonathan’s alibi for the day of Esther’s murder. It’s unshakeable. He was playing tennis in a very public tournament. I’ll send this along though.”

  She stopped him before he could hang up. “Wait, Officer Lister, it’s probably my overactive imagination. Please be careful how you deliver this information, OK? My source trusted me, and Monica Tate can be difficult if you cross her. I don’t want to make any trouble for my source.”

  Officer Lister agreed, and Maggie hung up feeling better. At least, she’d passed on the information—if there was something to it, Mark and Greg would figure it out. Either way, she could trust them to protect Lucinda.

  Saying Greg’s name brought a strange feeling to the pit of her stomach. Maybe she was hungry. It was already six o’clock. She could order room service. Boy, she would owe Robin a lot when this was over.

  Dinner came, and the hamburger she ordered was good, but she began to wish she had Ginger with her. Even her nonstop chatter would have been better than the hollow echo of her thoughts. She flipped on the TV and watched a silly sitcom while she ate. It wasn’t too late. She could still call Robin to pick her up.

  What was the matter with her? Being alone never bothered her before. She’d finish dinner, watch some television, and go to bed early. Things would look better in the morning. Things always looked better in the morning.

  28

  Greg followed David inside the house, both with their guns drawn. A faint scent of cigarette smoke mixed with the more powerful, new-paint smell. It appeared everything had been moved out, and the house remodeled for a quick sale. Greg wondered if the flipper had been smoking in here, or if it could have come from the elusive Grady.

  The living room was empty, and David’s footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor as he headed for the kitchen. Greg chose the second floor and took the stairs two at a time. The bedrooms were empty, new carpet softening his footsteps. He inspected every cabinet and closet, hoping to find evidence of an unlawful resident. He could hear David doing the same downstairs.

  A door in the middle of the hallway revealed a narrow set of wooden stairs leading to an attic. He tried to quiet his footsteps as he ascended, but the treads creaked. The stairway opened up to an unfinished space. Plywood flooring spread beneath drywall-less wall studs with pink insulation puffing out between.

  A sleeping bag was nestled near the window, along with a kerosene lantern and some binoculars.

  Greg skirted the bag and looked out the window, knowing what he would find. Sure enough, a clear shot of Maggie’s two-story rose over the ranch-style house next door. He returned to the second level and called down to David.

  A few minutes later, David popped above the floor line. “Jackpot!” he said as he strolled to the makeshift bed. “It has all the comforts of home, right? Even some snacks.” A bag of small candy bars lay open on the floor next to the lamp. “He’s lucky he didn’t set this house on fire, too, with the wrappers so close to the kerosene.” He nudged the bag with his foot. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Yep.” Greg grinned. “Stakeout.”

  David hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “Since you’re so excited about it, you ought to sit in this hot attic while I take the back in my air-conditioned car.”

  “Not so fast.” Greg plucked a quarter from his pocket and flipped it. “Call it.”

  “Tails,” David chose as it hit Greg’s palm, and he flipped it onto the back of his other hand. He glanced down. Tails. Greg groaned and lifted a hopeful brow. “Two out of three?”

  David laughed. “No way, loser.”

  Greg left to tell the officers in the alley what they’d found while David called it in. When Greg returned, David had a rueful grin on his face. “It looks like we both lose. Boss says he wants double on this one because of the severity of the crime. He wants us inside, and the two guys in the alley to stay there.”

  Greg grinned. “I’d gloat, but it’s too hot up her
e. Let’s wait downstairs.”

  David had his whiny face on. “It isn’t much cooler down there. I don’t see why Donovan decided there had to be so many of us. It’s not like it’s a gang or anything. You should be able to handle one guy on your own.”

  Shrugging, Greg started down the steps. Not arguing was the best way to deal with David when he didn’t get his way.

  David slammed out the back door to inform the other officers.

  Greg imagined they’d get an earful of his grievances. He dropped the key into the lockbox, and when David returned, they settled in to wait.

  At dusk, the call came in. “Subject entering the alley on foot,” the voice said. “He should be heading your way in the next ten minutes.”

  At this time of day, between light and dark, shadows lurk everywhere and even with a light making out features was difficult.

  Greg grabbed the gun out of his holster, and he and David stood, poised and ready on either side of the door, waiting until Greg wondered if Grady was out there or a neighbor had gone out for a walk.

  At last, they heard a footstep.

  Greg tensed as the lockbox banged against the door.

  A key clicked the lock, and the door swung open. Grady strolled in, stuffing the key in his pocket.

  Good way to keep people from surprising him. He should have done it when he was gone as well.

  “Police!” Greg shouted. “Let me see your hands.”

  Grady faced Greg while putting his hands up then bent his knees, ready to spring.

  David strode out from behind the door. “Don’t do it, Grady.” He cocked his weapon and tapped Grady’s back. “You got nowhere to go, man.”

  Grady straightened and held his hands in the air. “OK, OK. Don’t shoot me.”

  Greg held his gun steady. “Put your hands behind your back.”

  David holstered his gun and cuffed him. “Grady Hayes, you are under arrest.”

  “What for? I have permission to be here. I didn’t break in. I had the combination.” Grady allowed himself to be led away by Greg, who gripped his upper arm.

  David radioed the officers in the alley, and the three of them waited on the sidewalk for the car to come around.

  “It’s quite a list. You’ve been pretty busy, Mr. Hayes. You’re wanted for arson, burglary, assault and battery, and the murder of Mrs. Esther Campbell. To say nothing of unlawful entry.”

  “What? I didn’t do any of those things.”

  The car pulled up, and David spoke to Greg over Grady’s head. “How many times have we heard that one?”

  Greg laughed as he helped Grady into the backseat. “More than I can count. But it’s good to know criminals are consistent.”

  At the station, Grady clammed up. After receiving his Miranda warning, he chose to be silent and to have an attorney present. A lawyer finally showed up after midnight, conferred with his client, and allowed the questioning to begin.

  Greg and David sat in the interview room with Grady and his lawyer, Lyle Goodman.

  “Mr. Hayes,” Greg began. “I’m Detective Greg Williams, and this is Detective David Green. Do you know why you’re here?”

  “My client went to a house which was for sale, with the intention of buying it, when he was yanked in here and unjustly accused of things he did not do,” Goodman answered.

  David exhaled. “Save it for the courtroom, Counselor.”

  Greg leaned back and crossed his legs. “So, you were just looking at the house; you weren’t camped out there?”

  “No, of course not,” Grady replied. “I like the area, and my brother and I wanted to buy a house here. We don’t want to live in a place with a police department like this though.” Grady tossed his head.

  Greg wanted to laugh but he managed to keep a straight face. “How’d you get the lockbox code?”

  “I called the real estate office, and they gave it to me.”

  “They didn’t send anyone to go in with you? You aren’t a licensed real estate agent, are you, Mr. Hayes?”

  “No, and I thought it was kinda weird. But the lady on the phone gave it to me, so I thought it was OK to go in.”

  “Did you think it was OK to live there like a squatter?” David interjected.

  Greg couldn’t keep it in any more—he chuckled.

  Grady glared at him and shook his head. “I wasn’t living there.”

  “Your fingerprints were upstairs, Mr. Hayes,” Greg replied. “Why don’t you tell us how they got there when we arrested you before you could get past the living room.” He waited for Grady’s rehearsed speech. Might as well get his whole story instead of this game they were playing.

  Grady sat forward with his elbows on the table. “I called last week, and they gave me the code. So I went and saw the place. They say you’re supposed to see the neighborhood at all times of day, so I went back to see it in the evening.”

  “You weren’t sleeping there and stalking one of the neighbors?”

  “Stalking!” Goodman began to earn his fee. “Now wait a minute here. No one said anything about stalking. You’d better produce some evidence.”

  “Mr. Goodman, there was a sleeping bag in the attic with binoculars which had your client’s fingerprints on them.”

  “I saw them when I went in the first time, so I picked them up to take a look. The view’s nice, but that’s all. I don’t know who they belong to.”

  “Well, I can tell you who they belong to,” Greg said. “They were stolen from Mr. and Mrs. Castro when their house was burglarized last month.”

  “My client doesn’t know anything about any burglaries,” Goodman snapped. “Obviously, someone else had to have put the binoculars there.”

  “Obviously.” Greg changed the subject. “Tell me, Grady, why did you set fire to Ms. Schreiber’s house?”

  Goodman placed a hand on Grady’s arm. “My client doesn’t know what you’re talking about. Was there a fire?”

  Greg stared hard at the man in front of him, wanting to shake the truth out of him. “The house Mr. Hayes was casing through the stolen binoculars belonged to Ms. Schreiber. Her house was doused with gasoline and set ablaze. You might want to know we found gasoline on the clothes in your truck.”

  “I ran out of gas and had to take a can to the gas station. I dripped some gasoline on my clothes, and that’s the truth.”

  Goodman held up his hand.

  Grady quietened.

  “You don’t have enough to charge him, detectives,” Goodman smirked.

  “We know you were part of a burglary ring operating in Pinon Creek for the last few months. Someone identified you.” Greg leaned forward. “But the worst part is, we believe in the course of a burglary, one of the homeowners wouldn’t cooperate, and you killed her.”

  Grady jumped to his feet. “No way! You’re not pinning it on me. I didn’t have anything to do with it!”

  Goodman grabbed his arm. “Don’t let them get to you, son. Just calm down.”

  Grady flung himself down in the chair, nearly tipping it over. “OK, but I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “We know you wanted to burglarize Ms. Campbell’s home,” David spoke up, “because your brother asked his girlfriend to leave the door open. When she didn’t, Cameron rang the doorbell and the two of you went in and argued with Ms. Campbell. When she threatened to call the police, you killed her.”

  “No, we didn’t! We never went in the house.”

  Goodman made calming gestures with his hands, but his client was shaking, and his eyes were wild.

  Greg stuck his hand up, palm out, and spoke in a conciliatory tone. “OK, calm down and tell me where you were Saturday, the third. Maybe we can take murder off the table.”

  Grady got control and sat back, lifting his gaze to the ceiling.

  Greg couldn’t tell if he was trying to remember where he was, or trying to come up with a plausible alibi.

  Grady leaned over and whispered to his attorney. Goodman addressed the two detectives. “My clien
t respectfully requests to continue this tomorrow. It’s very late, and he’s exhausted.”

  David snorted. “Respectfully, huh? You probably need time to concoct an alibi. Fine by us. Maybe a night in lock up will help you figure it out.”

  29

  Maggie woke the next morning confused about her surroundings. It all came back—the fire, the hospital, and the trip to the hotel. She lay there picturing her house. The dread she expected didn’t materialize. The kitchen and part of the dining room would need to be rebuilt. The drywall in the rest of the house might have to be replaced, unless the professionals Greg called could salvage it. The whole house would need to be repainted, and she was picturing the colors she’d use. If she looked at this as a project, it would be all right.

  She called Robin and jumped out of bed, ready to start her day, almost as if a switch had been thrown in her psyche last night. Her house wasn’t what made her feel safe, because even though it looked pretty destroyed, it could be fixed. The people in her life made the difference. Aunt Esther, whether she was related to Maggie or not, had been important to her. And Allie. How protective she felt now surprised her. She didn’t want her to go back to her dad and then never see her again.

  And, of course, Greg. Not seeing him…not talking to him…was making her feel isolated. Why had she tried to weather Aunt Esther’s death alone? Had she thought shutting Greg out would somehow make her stronger?

  The way she used to want solitude wasn’t the same anymore. She’d proved it to herself last night. Maybe they could meet for lunch. A smile teased at the corners of her lips. First, she had to see if her purse was intact so she could pay Robin back. Then she’d go through her house and decide what could be salvaged.

  She pulled a green tank top out of the sack and put a white shirt on over it. Robin hadn’t packed any shorts, so she slipped on the jeans she wore yesterday. Robin called from the lobby, and Maggie crammed her belongings into the sack and headed downstairs. “I have to check out because I added dinner to my room last night. I’ll run by the bank as soon as I can and pay you back. I hope my purse is still there. I guess leaving it wasn’t a very good idea since the place is open. What was I thinking?”