"Where'd you get to?" whispered Bea.
"I went back to Gina Mae's room."
"How's Tucker doing?"
"Not good."
"Shit."
Exactly.
They turned their attention to the interviews and listened as the same answers flew into the acoustical ceiling and died. No, no one saw Tucker go into Gina Mae's room. No, no one heard anything. No, Tucker and Gina Mae weren't having any problems that anyone knew of. Most of the answers came between sobs. For Gina Mae and Tucker. Spenser was only half listening when two words caught her attention.
Planet Pizza? Did she hear that right? Amy was recounting her harrowing experience of last night, much to the chagrin of the interviewing officer.
"So," sighed the bored cop, "that's the last time you and Ms Soliven saw Ms Ambrose?"
"Last time," sobbed Amy.
"Thank you." The deputy crab-walked along the row of seats to the attendant.
Spenser handed Amy one of the secreted tissues she always kept in her pocket. Amy took it gratefully and blew her congested nose.
"You were with Gina Mae last night?" asked Spenser.
"Uh huh." Amy's sobs turned to sniffles.
"Me, too," offered Patty, not wanting to be left out.
“What were you guys doing?”
“Well,” answered Patty. “First, Gina Mae was reading us a story.”
"A story, huh?" asked Spenser.
"Yep," offered Patty.
"Planet Pizza?"
Patty's eyes were wide with wonder. "How'd you know that?"
"She's Tucker's aunt, doofus." Amy knew these things.
“Oh,” Patty nodded her head. “It was super scary.”
“Then what’d you do?” asked Spenser.
“Then, we went to our secret hideout.” Patty clamped her hand over her mouth, that horse already out of the barn.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” moaned Amy.
“Ooo, secret hideout. Where’s that, then?” asked Bea.
“Nowhere,” answered a secretive Amy.
“Yeah, that’s right,” affirmed Patty. “Nowhere near the pond neither," answered a smug Patty just before Amy walloped her arm. "Ow."
Amy rolled her eyes and shushed her chatty friend.
"Was Tucker with you?"
Patty snorted. "No way." She was indignant that Spenser would even suggest such a thing. "It was just the exative board of the Sunflower Decktive Ajee-cee."
"Shut up, Patty," whispered Amy through clenched teeth.
Bea's curiosity was piqued. "Oh, heck, yeah, the Decktive Ajee-cee. You remember, Spenser. Gina Mae told us about that a long time ago."
"Did not," sneered Amy.
"Ya huh," countered Bea. "She told us you guys always got together every Friday night at the pond."
Amy’s and Patty's mouths fell open in disbelief. The secret meetings of the Executive Board of the Sunflower Detective Agency was, well, secret, darn it.
Spenser decided to cast out her own line. "So, the pond is off limits?"
"Yes," answered a guilty Amy.
"How come?" baited Bea.
"'Cause we'd get in trouble," answered Patty.
"What kind of trouble?" tried Spenser.
"Well," Patty just couldn't help herself. "We're not supposed to be in the woods, 'cause it's close to Mr Overoye’s tool shed and he don't want us near it."
"Shut up, Patty." Amy was sowing hints on infertile land.
"He get mad?" asked Bea.
"Real mad. And he yells real loud." Patty's voice quavered in fear. "Once," she added conspiratorially, "he hit Lenny over the head with a hammer and threw his wheelchair in the pond."
"He did not." Amy rolled her eyes.
"Did so." Patty knew.
"He did not," countered Amy more emphatically. "If he'd a hit someone in the head with a hammer they'd be dead, you dork. And Lenny ain't dead."
"Almost was," challenged a very certain Patty.
"So, you guys are on a special case?" asked Spenser.
"Yep. We're gonna catch a thief," Patty proudly stuck out her chin.
"Thief?" asked Bea. "Someone's been stealing?"
"Yeah," answered Amy. "First it was just Denise's brooch, whatever that is, but then it was Amos's daddy's watch."
"And Barb's gold hair clip. But it ain’t really gold," added Patty.
"And..." Amy looked even sadder. "Pam's emerald bracelet."
Spenser was stunned. "Pam?"
"Okay..." The deputy had finished questioning the attendant. "You three can go. I'll be right with you two." He addressed Spenser and Bea then turned to speak to another deputy just two rows away.
"C'mon, Patty." Amy grabbed her friend's arm and lifted her bodily from the seat.
Spenser was deep in thought when her attention was drawn to the stage. Ival Overoye strode cockily through the back entrance with two deputies in tow. He seated himself at the light board, scanned the audience, and caught Spenser's eyes. His grin was malicious. Bea followed her friend's gaze to the stage. She had a feeling she knew exactly where Spenser's thoughts were lighting.
"Just because he's an asshole doesn't mean he's a thief and a murderer."
"What?"
Bea found it hard not to stare at Overoye. It was kind of like watching an accident happen. You're repulsed but intrigued all at the same time. "Tucker's story. Ival Overoye. The pirate named One-Eye. And yes, he does look like he's wearing an eye patch."
"Ergo," confirmed Spenser. "And what about the fact that Pam's bracelet was stolen and she's dead?"
"That's stretching it a bit, Spense. You're trying to go from point A to point C without a parachute. Can't be done."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Bea tried to be patient. "Just because you think Planet Pizza implicates Overoye in some bizarre comic book thievery..."
"The man is evil."
"...you can't just leap tall absurdities in a single bound and say he killed Gina Mae."
Spenser wasn't listening. "I wonder where Planet Pizza is?"
"Somewhere near Planet Mongo, I imagine. Spenser, you're obsessing."
"Bea, Tucker's stories are almost always autobiographical. There may be something in that blue notebook that could point to Overoye’s involvement."
Bea wrinkled up her forehead, Spenser's theory sounding dubious at best. “In Gina Mae’s murder or in the thefts?”
“Both.”
Bea was unconvinced. “Right.”
“Gina Mae was reading to Patty and Amy from the book last night at the pond, near Overoye’s tool shed.”
Bea shrugged. “So...?”
"Remember what Tucker said was in the cave?" asked Spenser. "Hammers, shovels. Stuff that you would find in a tool shed. Like Ival Overoye's tool shed."
"Earth to Spenser. He also said Chloe was walking and there was a treasure chest with gold and stuff.” She held up her hands, palms up as if weighing her words. “I'm having a problem with the logic, Spense. Explain to me why Evil Ival would kill Gina Mae anyway."
Spenser glanced stageward. Overoye was still staring at her, his one good eye slicing a hole into her very core.
"I don’t know. The book? A burglary gone wrong? Overoye goes into Gina Mae’s room looking for anything valuable, Gina Mae interrupts him, he kills her...”
“That’s just crazy, Spense.”
Spenser has a sudden thought. “Or... remember what Patty and Amy said... Gina Mae was playing detective. Maybe she actually saw Overoye looting Chloe’s room. And he saw her.”
“I don't know.”
“All right, how ‘bout this,” Spenser barreled on. “Overoye accidently screws up Pam’s ventilator for instance. I mean, come on, the man is totally incompetent, right? And she dies. Oh dear, so sad. But well, it was an accident, sort of. So he figures, hell, since she’s already dead I’ll just grab me a bracelet while no one’s watching. And then, he’s like, wow that was easy. I could probably get away with th
is again.”
Bea’s look of skepticism was lost on her chum.
“So he kills Chloe too, accident or not, and steals whatever she has that’s valuable. Gina Mae sees him, but isn’t sure what it is she’s seeing.” Spenser looked expectantly at her friend. “Overoye has to silence Gina Mae.”
“Didn't you tell me that Kanesha said the items were just missing?”
"Yes, but..."
"And wouldn’t she have called the cops if she suspected anything illegal?"
“Maybe there isn't enough proof. Yet. That's why I'd like to find Planet Pizza. Just in case there's something in it."
"I don't know, Spense."
A familiar voice interrupted the discourse. Spenser and Bea rose and joined Brianne at the audience doors.
"How's Tucker doing?" asked an anxious Spenser.
"Good as can be expected, I guess. He's still not entirely lucid." Brianne bowed her head and continued softly, "and he keeps asking for Gina Mae." Damn, she was tired. Every bone in her body was tired. She half sat half leaned on the edge of one of the seats and cupped her weary head in her hands. When she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes. "They've taken him to the Sheriff’s station."
“They’ve arrested him?" Spenser was worried.
"Detaining him for questioning is how Youngquist put it."
"Damn," was all Bea managed to say.
"When I talked to Constance Clementine she said she'd ask a Mr Moran to take her to the Sheriff's Office," continued Brianne.
CC. What she must be going through. "They're not even going to look for anyone else, are they?" Spenser's question sounded more desperate than she had intended.
"I don't know if there is anyone else to look for, Spenser." It was the hardest thing Brianne had ever said.
"Maybe we should go to the Sheriff's Office, Spense, as soon as we're done here." Bea placed a consoling arm around her best chum's shoulders. "CC's gonna need our support."
"Yes." Spenser shot a look stageward at the cold piece of shit called Ival Overoye. Overoye sat quietly, holding her gaze, his mouth twisted in a contemptuous smile. I'll be back for you. Spenser hoped Overoye could read her thoughts.
She turned to Brianne. "Thanks for letting me be with Tucker earlier."
"He needed a friendly face." Brianne rose slowly, walked out of the theatre, and headed for her office.
Bea and Spenser went back to their seats and, like everyone else, answered the deputy's questions with a half dozen ‘no’s, gave their addresses and phone numbers, and a promise to be available for further questioning. Then they walked silently out of the Sunflower.
Spenser lifted her face skyward amazed at the strange atmospheric phenomenon known as weather in the Southland. The climate had changed appreciably. It was dark, cloudy, cooler. There's an old saying in Southern California, if you don't like the weather, wait a minute.
Today was living up to that axiom. There were even threatening storm clouds on the horizon.
Spenser drove to the Sheriff's Substation in Walnut, a bedroom community bordering the usually dry San Jose Creek. Not a word was spoken. Bea understood her friend's need for quiet contemplation. Of course, entertaining herself without talking was a novelty, but Bea made the most of the situation. She recited, mentally, the entire libretto of her favorite musical "The Pajama Game". It was a tremendous challenge curbing her natural instinct to belt out one or two of the songs. But it was a whole lot easier than trying to figure out who killed Gina Mae Ambrose.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Saturday - early evening
The Sheriff's Substation was practically deserted. Spenser and Bea walked into the quiet lobby and found CC, stiff backed in her wheelchair, holding the supportive hand of Mike Moran. When CC saw Spenser, she allowed her shoulders to drop slightly, but not her head. Spenser bent down and hugged her friend. CC's arms were strong as Tucker's and Spenser welcomed the crush.
"Thanks for coming, Spenser, Bea." CC's voice cracked.
Moran nodded somberly.
"What's going on?" asked Spenser.
"I wish the hell I knew." CC was beside herself with anguish. "That sweet lawyer you called, Jesse? She’s in there with Tucker. But I ain’t heard nothin' yet."
The substation lobby was quiet and smelled of Lysol. A laminate counter stretched from east to west, a window, probably bullet-proof, thought Spenser, bisected the glass wall. A uniformed officer crouched behind the window busying himself with paperwork. The activity beyond his cubicle was minimal.
"They been in there 'bout an hour now. He's probably so scared." CC continued, blinking her eyes rapidly, trying her best to hold back a gush of tears.
Spenser felt absolutely helpless. An agonizing half hour passed before Lt Youngquist rounded the reception desk with Jesse Day in tow. Spenser nodded to Jesse then she and the lieutenant sat on either side of CC's wheelchair.
"Mrs Watts," began a tentative Jesse.
"How's my son?" CC cut her off, her usual Southern politeness the victim of worry.
"He's fine." Youngquist was civil, but distant. "I wanted you to know what's going on."
"It's about bloody time," croaked Moran.
Youngquist ignored him. "Tucker's statement was rather incoherent..."
"Gee, having just suffered a grand mal seizure, go figure." Spenser's sarcasm had the desired effect as the young cop closed her eyes briefly and sucked in air. Spenser could almost hear her counting to ten.
"He remembered," she continued, using every muscle to refrain from handcuffing Spenser, "looking for Gina Mae, finding her in her room and pretty much nothing after that."
"Bein’ in her room don’t mean he done it.” CC jutted out her chin.
Youngquist felt the strain of emotions coming from the mother and spoke quietly. “Does Tucker own a Special Olympics medal, Mrs Watts?"
“Special Olympics medal?” CC was confused by the question. “Yes, yes, he does. Second place, hundred-yard breast stroke.” The significance of the detective’s words hit CC like a sledge hammer. “Oh, my god. No.” CC's frail composure was starting to crack.
Spenser was incredulous. “That was the murder weapon?”
The lieutenant ignored her, again. It was becoming a habit. "The DA will be interviewing your son shortly, Mrs Watts."
"My son would not hurt anyone, Lieutenant. Let alone Gina Mae." Her lower lip began to quiver. "You've talked to him. You can see how gentle he is."
"That’s not for me to decide.”
Jesse spoke up. “Everything I've heard so far is rather circumstantial.” She purposefully spoke the words directly to Youngquist. She placed her hand on CC’s shoulder. “I won’t let anyone talk to Tucker until we have all the facts.”
“Does that mean he’ll have to stay locked up?” asked CC.
“For now, yes, I’m afraid so. Until he sees the magistrate and bail is assigned. If bail is assigned,” amended Jesse sadly.
The Texans' voice was low, rough, barely audible, almost defeated. "I'd like to see my son now."
Youngquist turned to the desk sergeant. "Drake, please take Mrs Watts to room four."
Spenser watched as Drake maneuvered CC's wheelchair around the lobby and into a long corridor.
Jesse turned to Spenser but kept her eyes on Youngquist. “Don’t worry, Spenser, I’ll make sure Tucker’s not railroaded.” The lieutenant wanted so badly to respond, but knew better. Jesse smiled at Spenser, turned, and walked down the hallway to join CC.
Spenser watched as CC and Jesse entered the interrogation room. "He didn't kill her." Spenser spoke directly to the lieutenant.
"That's not up to me." Youngquist was adamant.
"There have to be other suspects."
"Who?" The young cop sounded as exasperated as Spenser felt. She prided herself on a kind of sixth sense and trusted a little voice deep inside herself that told her the truth of a situation. It had engendered many a snicker from her colleagues, but it had never let her down. Until now. All t
he evidence pointed to Tucker Watts, dammit. It was circumstantial, but compelling. So why was she unconvinced? Because that damn little voice was not just talking to her, it was practically screaming at her.
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