An Ear for Murder

by Diane Weiner

  “And Forward Fitness has lockers?”

  “Yeah. You pay extra to rent one, but it’s worth the convenience if you’re exercising on the way to or from work.”

  Sara did that herself back home. She’d use the gym before rehearsals. Make that used the gym. It’s been over a year. “Thanks. You’ve been very helpful.”

  She raced over to the gym and pulled in next to a Jaguar. Given it was the middle of the afternoon, she had her pick of places, but since the Jaguar driver had parked diagonally, hogging two spots, she felt compelled to park within inches of it. She had a six-year-old Nissan Sentra sitting in her own driveway back in San Francisco. She admitted to a slight pang of envy looking at the slick, sexy car.

  The modern gym was entirely metal with big glass panes. Through the glass she saw members lined up like mice on a row of treadmills. As soon as she opened the sleek, chrome door she was bombarded with pounding techno music. She instinctively covered her ears to shield herself from hearing loss. The reception desk was unmanned. This is my lucky day. She followed the arrow on the wall and the scent of chlorine, then slipped right into the small locker room.

  That was incredibly easy. Now what? Try every key? The rows are three deep in lockers. Thankfully, the majority have combination locks. She listened. No chattering. No water running in the showers. Here goes.

  She worked fast, silently, and methodically, with her ears on high alert in case someone entered. After she’d gone through half a dozen locks, most of which didn’t even come close to fitting with the key, she made her way to the bottom row. Voices. Coming from the pool entrance. Flip flops slapping against the tile floor. Her pulse quickened.

  “So, how many laps did you do today?”

  “Enough. I’m still sore from yesterday. Wish I could go home instead of back to work.”

  Sara ducked into the changing stall, holding her breath. She could have pretended she was simply a member opening her locker, but this was a small gym and she was afraid they’d notice hers wasn’t a familiar face. It can’t take long for them to change if they have to be back at work. When she heard water running in the showers, she came out of hiding and finished her mission. Nothing.

  What if this isn’t her locker key, but Preston’s? I should check the men’s locker room! Wait, am I crazy? But this is probably my only chance. Maybe there’s a hint to where he’s hiding out after fleeing the cabin. Her heart thumped like a bass drum. She followed the wet footprints to the pool entrance. If she went in through the pool area, she’d eliminate the risk of being seen if the front desk person had returned.

  She poked her head through the metal door and seeing the coast was clear, stepped inside. The sticky chlorine-infused air stuck to her skin and irritated her nose. She eyed the men’s locker room across the pool, and quickly scooted over. Not a soul taking advantage of the heated pool in the middle of winter? Insane. She opened the door, listened, and convinced herself it was safe to enter.

  More combination locks, fewer padlocks than in the other. Finding a rhythm, she quickly weaved her way through the aisles. Nope. Not this one. Definitely not. About to give up, she surprised herself when one of the lockers clicked open. Her heart pounded faster as she opened the door. A black gym bag was squished inside.

  Do I take this out, or just grab a look inside? From the crime shows she’d watched, she knew she could blow the case if there was anything of value and it wasn’t obtained following the letter of the law. She pulled her gloves back on, and unzipped the bag, still listening for signs she wasn’t alone. She stuck her hand inside and felt around. Gym shorts, a tee shirt, and yuck, a pair of white boxers. Please God, let these be clean boxers.

  Then, she felt something in the bottom of the bag and pulled it out. Bingo. It was a ring. A big, gaudy diamond ring!

  Chapter 19

  She shoved everything back into the bag and slipped out of the gym. How do I get Phil to put this together and search the locker? She drove across town to the police station.

  “Can I see Detective Lambert?” She’d barely finished asking when Phil came out of his office.

  “Sara, what a nice surprise.”

  “Phil, can I talk to you?”

  “Sure. Come in.”

  She’d never been a good liar in the past but she’d been honing her skills daily since arriving in town. “I found a key in Ellie’s kitchen drawer. I knew it looked like a key to a gym locker––yeah, right. I just knew it. It occurred to me that Ellie loved the gym, and her co-worker mentioned that they worked out together, so I think you should go over there and investigate.”

  “Over where?”

  “Forward Fitness. It’s by the hospital.”

  “I know the place. You have the key?”

  “Yes, here it is.” She placed it in his palm. “Maybe there’s a clue as to where Preston went.”

  Her mother knocked and came in. “Sara, what are you doing here? I was in the bathroom and guess I missed you coming in.”

  “Just visiting.” She saw her Mom’s eyes twinkle.

  “Detective, I have paperwork for you to sign. Mrs. Montague is insistent about getting a police report detailing the stolen engagement ring so she can submit it to her insurance company.”

  Sara’s heart paused. “Maybe you shouldn’t sign that just yet.”

  “Why not?” Both Phil and her mother looked confused.

  “I don’t know. Maybe something will turn up. You were on the way to search his locker, right?”

  “Yes. Put the paperwork on my desk for now, Patty.”

  “Will do. Talk to you later, Sara.”

  “Phil, how sure are you about Jailyn Peter’s alibi?”

  “I told you she was working at a clinic across town. Her colleagues verified it. Are you still on that?”

  “I just have a gut feeling she’s not being truthful. She had motive to kill Ellie.”

  “What motive? We’ve already been through this. Jealousy over her ex-boyfriend’s ex-fiancé? Ellie had already dumped Preston. She didn’t have a reason to kill her.”

  “I guess you’re right. It’s just, I don’t know. She seems to have a mean jealous streak. Maybe she was getting back at Ellie for hurting Preston?” And the ring motive is off the table.

  “Sounds like grasping at straws. Besides, I told you multiple times she has an alibi.”

  “Yeah. You’re right.”

  “Can I pick you up for dinner?”

  She weighed the options. Restaurant dinner with intelligent conversation or eating with Panther in front of the TV. “Sure. I’d love to.”

  “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

  Maybe by then he’ll have found the ring. She headed back to Ellie’s. What am I missing? There has to be a clue somewhere in this house.

  She had just kicked off her shoes and grabbed the Mint Milanos she’d impulse bought at ShopRite when her phone rang.

  “Sara? This is Camaya, Ellie’s coworker from Medivision.”

  “Hi, this is Sara.”

  “Look, after you left, I remembered something. I was outside on lunch break after a board meeting. I heard Preston talking to Ellie. I guess I was hidden by the trees because they didn’t notice me. Ellie was saying he should do the right thing and how she would ‘blow the whole thing apart’ if he didn’t.”

  “Really? I wonder what she meant.”

  “I don’t know, but then Preston’s voice got really serious. He told her if she even tried, she’d be sorry. It’s the way he said it, like he was threatening her.”

  “When was this?”

  “Right before she called off the wedding. I’d forgotten all about it until you asked about Preston earlier. It may be nothing, but I figured I’d let you know.”

  “Thanks, Camaya. It could prove to be important. Call me if you think of anything else. Anything at all.”

  She finished her cookies, plotting her next move. Ellie’s phone was never found. Was there a chance it was still in the house? She’d turned much of the h
ouse upside down looking for the ring already. If it’s not in the house, maybe it’s in the garage. Ellie’s car! That’s one place she hadn’t thoroughly checked.

  She put on her shoes and opened the garage door. The car was unlocked, as it was left. Sara checked the trunk, rummaged through the overnight bag, and felt along the back seat. Nothing.

  She checked the glove compartment and under the passenger seat. When she reached under the driver’s seat she found it. Ellie’s phone.

  Sara grabbed her charger and plugged it in. What do I do about a password? She tried the most common ones. 1234; 0000. Nope. Her birthday. After all these years she hadn’t forgotten Ellie’s birthday. Month and day? Nope. Day then year? Nope. What about the year she was born? She was the same age as Sara. Wait. I saw a pocket calendar in the junk drawer. That’s where I write my passwords.

  She found the shiny day runner and flipped to the back. Birthdays, phone numbers, passwords! She ran back to the garage and tried the one next to ‘phone.’

  Bingo. The phone came to life. Texts galore. Ellie begging Preston to make things right. Preston telling her to keep her mouth shut.

  Ellie: If you don’t come forward, the engagement is off.

  Preston: Over my dead body.

  Ellie: Lives are at stake.

  Preston: Open your trap and you’re dead.

  Then, the messages stopped. Until the day Ellie died.

  Preston: It’s over. Watch your back. I’m coming for it.

  His voice was different. Not threatening this time, more like…nervous. Didn’t he mean coming for you? It? What’s it? The ring? It had to be more than that. Was Preston Montague still in town?

  She looked at the time. Before she knew it it’d be time for her…date. She listened to the phone messages one more time. Wait. A sound in the background. It sounded like church bells on Preston’s end. Was he hiding in a church? She’d have to turn the phone over to Phil. Maybe he’d have an idea.

  A quick shower, make-up, and her comfy jeans. She’d told Phil she’d prefer a casual dinner, and, in fact, was craving pizza. He rang the doorbell at exactly 7 p.m.

  “You look pretty. I like your hair pulled up like that.”

  “Thanks.”

  “By the way, we found the ring! Right where you thought it would be, in Preston’s gym locker. We picked up his mother and it didn’t take much to get her to confess that Preston had it all along. She was turning it into an insurance scam, claiming it was stolen.”

  “I knew it. Ellie wouldn’t have kept that ring. Even her coworker said Ellie called the ring gaudy. Hey, before we go, I have to show you something.” She grabbed Ellie’s phone from the coffee table. “Listen to the messages.”

  “Ellie’s phone? Where’d you find it?”

  “It was in her car. Here.” She played the messages.

  “He’s clearly threatening her.”

  “Listen again. To the background noise when Preston is speaking.”

  “It sounds like chimes.”

  “Exactly. Do you think he’s hiding out in a church?”

  “There’s only one church with those elaborate chimes. It’s on the way out of town.”

  “Is it anywhere near the restaurant?”

  “No, but we can swing by and then head to Antonio’s. Get your coat.”

  The road to the church was the same one she’d taken into town from the airport. In fact, she pointed out the spot where her car had skidded. They passed Cusa farms, a Christmas tree farm, and an abandoned fruit and vegetable stand. Few houses appeared along the route—even less when they turned onto a gravel road. She could see the steeple well before they parked in the church lot.

  “Here we are. Come on.” He took a flashlight out of the glove compartment.

  She followed Phil into the deserted, dark church. They marched through the pews and up into the musty choir loft. Nothing.

  “What about the rectory?”

  “Two elderly priests live there. I don’t want to disturb them at this hour. I can guarantee you they’d have nothing to do with harboring a fugitive.”

  “What about the area behind the altar. You know, where the priests get dressed?”

  Phil led the way. Sara moved aside a pile of robes. She found a black, leather glove. “Phil, look. It has his initials embossed. PM. Has to be…”

  “Preston Montague.” He wrapped it in a paper towel he’d pulled from a roll on the table housing the robes.

  Sara continued searching the room. “Look! A phone charger. It’s still plugged into the wall. I’ll bet Preston Montague was hiding in here but why? He must have made that last phone call from here while the chimes were ringing.”

  “I’ll take that, too. Good eye! And kudos for recognizing the chimes on the message. Otherwise, we’d never have come here.”

  “Has he left town? You’ve got people covering the airport, right?”

  “Been covering the shuttle and limo services to the airport, the train station, even the bus terminal since shortly after the murder. No sign of him. No purchases on his credit cards either.”

  I should have told him about my encounter with Preston. “You checked his parents’ place?”

  “Of course, we did. And we have a patrol car keeping an eye on it. You have to stay out of this, Sara. We’re getting closer and it’s getting more dangerous now that the stakes are higher. Trust me to do my job. Promise.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll back off.”

  “Good. Come on, let’s eat.”

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, Sara woke drenched in sweat, heart pounding. She’d been jogging through Cusa farms and came upon an abandoned barn. She knocked on the warped, wooden door. Animal cracker animals poured out of the barn and ran into the wilderness. Behind them, Preston Montague, laughing and saying, ‘you can’t catch me; I’m the gingerbread man.’

  Either I’m losing my mind, or that dream is a message. Wait! Travis said the Montague family owned the business, and gave it to their new son-in-law. It was a farm business, but in the winter it appeared abandoned. I’ll bet no one has thought to search there for Preston.

  Maybe I should call Phil. Just last night he discouraged her against pursuing the case. Even made her promise to stay out of it. Better to have evidence before alerting him so I won’t have to eat crow if I’m wrong.

  Plan B. She looked out the window, hoping to see Travis’s car in his driveway. She wished he’d told her when he’d be back. It’s broad daylight. I can drive to Cusa farms and just nose around—see if there’s any sign of Preston there. Maybe it wasn’t a dream, but a premonition that woke me up.

  Sara took a quick shower, fed Panther, and jumped in the car. Cusa farms was on the way to her parents’ house. Travis pointed it out the night they went over for dinner.

  She easily found the entrance to the desolate farm. A chain blocked the dirty, snow-covered road through the orchards. Glad she’d worn boots, Sara parked the car and proceeded on foot.

  The sun reflected off the snow and was at work melting the path through the orchards. The sky was a bright, robin’s egg color blue, so rare during these winter months. It’s a sign. I’m on the right track.

  Her legs ached. She’d trekked quite a while before spotting the warehouse. Along the way, she searched for a sign that Preston was on the premises. The snow squished under her feet as she approached the warehouse.

  It certainly looks like it’s boarded up for the winter. She fingered the rusty padlock chaining the door shut.

  She walked around the outside of the building, trying to peek into the few barred windows, but even stretching on her tip toes they were too high to reach. No trucks, no cars…no sign of Preston Montague or anyone else. I was so sure. All this effort has to pay off in the end. Or does it? She turned back feeling defeated but aware of a schedule-less day stretching in front of her. Dad’s killing himself trying to catch up on work. Might as well do something useful. The morning was a waste of time.

  She got
back in her car and drove to her parents’ house. She checked inside first. Empty. Then she went around back to the shop where she found her father at work. She was proud of his skill, his work ethic, and his creativity. Proud that she’d inherited those traits.

  “Dad?”

  “Sara? I didn’t realize you were coming in today.” Her father was hunched over his desk, measuring and drilling the beginnings of an oboe. The smell of fresh wood shavings brought back memories.

  “I thought you could use a hand.”

  “Yeah. Your grandfather went out to lunch with your Mrs. Capelli. He reeked of cologne and had even combed back his hair. You may have a step-grandmother one of these days.”

  Sara laughed. She was pleased as punch that those two were spending time together. Any signs of early dementia seemed to disappear when he was with or talked about Mrs. Capelli.

  “I’ll continue the repairs if you want.”

  “Yeah, and afterwards, I’ll give you a refresher course in drilling tone holes. I have to get moving on this backlist before I lose customers. These oboes are great, but who can afford to wait a decade to get one?”

  She felt a bit excited about helping. Although there was a process and it involved accurate measuring, definitely in her skill set, instrument making was creative in its own right. Taking your stored experiences, connecting the dots, making something from nothing…the process was familiar even when transposed to a different activity.

  The repair she was working on required a seldom-used tool. She opened the drawer where she thought she’d seen an assortment earlier. It must not have been this drawer. This drawer was where her great grandfather had stashed the logbook.

  She opened to the page of numbers and examined them again. Some are darker than the others. Does that mean something?

  “Dad, can you toss me a pen?”

  “Catch.”

  She traced the outline made by the darker numbers and a shape emerged. If she flipped it sideways, it looked like a narrow cone. She leafed through the logbook looking for a reference or any clue as to what this could be.