“Will do. See you in the morning if not before.”
“Roger that. Oops. Poor choice of words.”
Chapter Seventy-Two
Inside Dixon Browne’s building, Sergeant Byrdswain caught a whiff of fresh-brewed coffee. He knocked forcefully on Dixon’s door. “Palmdale Police. Open up.”
Seconds later a misshapen eye filled the peephole. The sergeant simply held up his badge.
Dixon Browne swung the door inward. He had a bath towel in hand. “I was expecting you,” he said, tossing his towel on a chair.
“You were? Why?”
“C’mon Sergeant. It’s obvious. The owner of the building is killed. I’m the manager and you’re a detective. Just makes sense.”
Byrdswain nodded. “I understand you got a close look at the body.”
“Yeah, but there wasn’t much I could do, and I was sweaty, so I decided to take a shower while I could.”
“I see.” Byrdswain sniffed at the air, then pointed to the kitchen. “I don’t suppose I could bother you for a cup of that coffee.”
Dixon snickered. “Serve yourself.”
Byrdswain seized a mug and filled it. He stared at Dixon, sipped down some coffee and raised his cup. “Now, that’s what I needed.”
“I’d offer you some creamer and sugar but you ain’t staying that long.”
“That’s a nice shiner you’ve got there. I suppose you ran into a door?”
“Something like that.”
Byrdswain took a couple steps down the center hall. “You mind if I look around?”
“My apartment? What for? I ain’t got nothing of interest to you.”
“I just might find a baseball bat with the victim’s hair on it. Or blood in your tub. You got anything to hide?”
Dixon waved his hand. “Why would I have those things?”
“Seems a little odd that you’d leave a crime scene just to take a shower. You sure you’re not destroying evidence? We can find traces of blood in the tub you know.”
“Nothing like that, Sergeant, I assure you. I went for a walk, worked up a sweat and simply figured it’d be a long night.”
Byrdswain moved down the hall, glanced in the bedroom, bathroom and Dixon’s office before he returned to the living room. “Nice trophies.”
“Just lucky.”
“I didn’t see any signs of a woman.”
“My wife bailed on me. Is that a crime?”
“If it was,” Byrdswain snickered, “we’d all be in jail.”
Dixon pointed toward the courtyard area. “How’s it look out there? Any clues?”
“Just the dent in Kraft’s head. Did you see it?”
“Sure didn’t.”
“Where were you between seven and nine o’clock?”
“Like I told you, I went for a walk.”
“Can anybody verify that?”
“I didn’t talk to anybody, if that’s what you mean.”
“I see. When did you first hear about the victim?”
“When I came back from my walk. There were already some guys standing near the body. I saw he was dead and came inside to call the cops. Then I jumped in the shower.”
“What time was that?”
“Around eight-thirty.”
“How many people live in this complex?”
“Never really counted them, but I’d guess there’s a couple hundred. Why?”
“Do you know all of them?”
“Makes the job easier,” Dixon said, sarcastically.
“It must give a guy a feeling of power to be in charge of so many people,” Byrdswain slid his cup on the counter.
“It’s just a job.”
“But an important one, nonetheless. Must piss you off when things don’t go your way.”
Dixon shrugged. “Not as much as when people don’t rinse out their dirty coffee cups.”
Byrdswain grinned. “You’ll get over it. Your job must pay pretty well to own a Cadillac.”
Dixon scoffed. “What are you getting at, Sergeant? We both know you don’t give a damn about what car I drive.”
“True, but I’ve always put a lot of faith in instincts, first impressions. If you’d lie about a car, you’d certainly lie about killing somebody. I’m wondering if your boss caught you with your hand in his cookie jar and threatened to turn you in so you ballpeened him to keep him quiet.”
“I’m afraid you’re fishing in an empty lake, Sergeant.”
“We’ll see. One more thing. I need you to put together a list of any troublemakers around here, anybody who’s been arrested, people who argue a lot or have aggressive visitors.”
“Why would I do that?”
Sergeant Byrdswain stared in Dixon’s eyes. “Because it makes me think you’re trying to help rather than trying to get away with murder. That’s why.”
“Fair enough. I guess I can put in a few minutes for my friends at the almighty Palmdale Police Department.”
“That’s better. If I find you left anybody off the list who should have been on it, it’ll mean I can’t trust you and you don’t want that. Got it?”
“Now why would I do that?”
Chapter Seventy-Three
The next morning at school, Stump slouched down in his seat. Filled with sad thoughts, he found it difficult to concentrate. Then the heavy door at the front corner of the classroom swung open and the Assistant Principal approached the teacher who quickly looked in Stump’s direction. “Neal. It looks like you need to go with Mr. Dunlap.”
Stump shrugged and made his way to the front and then out into the hallway where Myles and Grandma Pauline were waiting. “Sergeant Byrdswain wants to see you,” Myles said.
“Is it about Mr. Kraft?”
“I think so. We’d better get going.”
At the truck, and almost by habit, Stump slid behind the wheel. “I’m glad you brought Grandma Pauline.”
“Had to. Katherine had a doctor’s appointment.”
“Is Detective Sanchez going to be there, too?”
“Oh,” Myles said lifting his hand off his lap. “I didn’t know you remembered her.”
“I saw her at work one day but couldn’t remember how I knew her. But then James and I drove past the police building and saw your truck. I still didn’t put it all together until last night after I spoke with Sergeant Byrdswain. I can tell you one thing. She’s hot.”
“I use to get hot flashes too,” Grandma Pauline said.
Both Stump and Myles grinned.
“It’s a weird coincidence,” Stump said.
“What is?”
“What are the chances Detective Sanchez would be living at the same building where I work and where a murder took place?”
Myles sighed. “It’s no coincidence, Stump.” For the reminder of the ride, Myles filled Stump in about Detective Sanchez’s investigation of Dixon for rape. Finally, “And that’s why I tried to get you to look for another job. Now it looks like you’ll have no choice.”
Stump thought about Mr. Connors’s offer, but there’d be plenty of time to kick that around later. For the moment he wondered what the meeting with Sergeant Byrdswain might be like. He hoped he wouldn’t have to say anything about him and Maria hiding out in the maintenance room. “What have they found out so far?” he asked.
“All I know is Sergeant Byrdswain has been working on-site and Detective Sanchez is lying low.”
“Mom used to say life is short. Now I know what she meant. Even though Mr. Kraft was ill, I didn’t see this coming. Now I hate Dixon even more for causing me to miss that last City Council meeting.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Your mom would be very proud of your effort.”
“Effort? What good is effort, without results?”
“We should mind our own business,” Grandma Pauline said.
Stump almost grinned. “Thanks, Grandma. I’ll try to remember that.”
They made their way to the lobby of the police building. “The conference room is upsta
irs,” Myles said, heading for the elevator.
“I’m taking the stairs,” Grandma Pauline said. Myles and Stump looked at each other and followed her just in case she lost her balance.
At the top, Myles pointed off to the right. “You guys go in the conference room. I’ll tell the others we’re here.”
Stump and Grandma Pauline took seats at a large table where she pointed to a picture on the wall. “Oh, look. That’s my neighbors’ house.”
Stump’s eyes flashed to the picture. “In Oklahoma? I don’t think so.”
“Oh, yes it is. I recognize those windows.”
Stump rose, examined an engraved brass plate attached to the bottom of the frame and read it out loud. “In appreciation of Gregory and Wilma Wellstone for donating their family farm to the City of Palmdale. The Wellstone raised four of their own children and countless foster children on this site.”
Grandma Pauline shook her head back and forth. “They’re wrong. That’s Sheila and Ted’s house, after they got their money from the county.”
“Look who’s here.” The voice came from over Stump’s shoulder. He pivoted. “Hello, Detective Sanchez.”
She smiled at Stump as she and Myles took a seat. “How’ve you been?”
“Sad, but okay. I saw you a while back, but didn’t recognize you at first, but now that I think of it, Mr. Connors said somebody else was investigating at his building. That must have been you too, investigating the same scams.”
Grandma Pauline waved at Detective Sanchez and said, “Did you know Myles is my son?”
Detective Sanchez smiled. “Yes, ma’am. He told me that.”
“Do you know Ted and Sheila? That’s their home on the wall after they got their new windows.”
Stump sighed.
“No, I didn’t know them,” Detective Sanchez said.
Stump addressed Detective Sanchez. “Did Dixon kill Mr. Kraft?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. A killer must have motive, means and opportunity.”
“A MOM!” Stump said.
“A mom? What’s his mom got to do with it?”
“I just made it up. If you rearrange those three words so that it’s motive, opportunity and means, it’s an acronym that says MOM. Every killer has to have a MOM.”
Myles and Detective Sanchez traded glances. “Clever,” she said. “I never thought of it that way.”
Just then, Sergeant Byrdswain came in and sat down. “Hello, everybody. You can ignore me. Just go on with your conversation.”
Detective Sanchez turned back to Stump. “You were talking about Dixon scamming people. What scams?”
“Lots of ’em. He charges tenants money, off the record, for getting them jobs or for doing favors for them. Stuff like that.”
“What makes you think so?”
Stump certainly didn’t want to admit that he had Juanita steal Dixon’s notebook. Maybe a different truthful answer would work. “I discovered it before I started working there. My dad and I considered buying the property and when we looked around, I saw a suspicious receipt book.”
Detective Sanchez nodded. “Okay. Did you ever say anything about these discrepancies to the owner?”
“I mentioned them, but Mr. Kraft had known Dixon for a long time and I didn’t want to make waves and risk losing my job.”
“What about after you started working there? Did you see more examples of Dixon cheating people?”
“Not exactly, but I knew he was doing it.”
Sergeant Byrdswain shuffled in his seat. “Did Dixon just confess to you?”
Stump’s stomach tightened. He’d hoped that he wouldn’t have to discuss everything he discovered and some of the follow-up investigating he did, but now that the cops were involved anyway, this could be his chance to get them to take over his own Case of Did He or Did He Not? “My girlfriend suspected that Dixon might have raped her mom, and she wanted me to find out if he’d done anything like that to anybody else. Then we could turn him in without her mama having to talk to the police.”
Byrdswain shook his head. “Why would they tell you something like that as opposed to reporting it to us?”
“Simple. They’re scared of both Dixon and the cops. Everybody around there avoids you people because they don’t want to risk being deported. Besides, if you started asking Dixon questions it could piss him off. He could make things even harder on Maria and her mother, just like he did to me when I wanted to talk at the City Council meeting.”
“So you spied on Dixon?”
Stump nodded. “I learned a few simple things and then I heard about his secret notebook.”
Byrdswain and Myles traded glances.
“What notebook?”
Stump sighed. “Dixon kept it in his desk. He ripped off so many people he had to keep track of them all. That’s why I agree with Manuel. Mr. Kraft must have figured out that Dixon was stealing from him and Dixon killed Mr. Kraft to stay out of jail.” Stump was pleased with himself for getting that idea on the table without revealing he and Maria were hiding in the maintenance room when Mr. Kraft and Dixon were arguing about this very topic.
“Where’s this notebook now?”
“I copied it and threw it away.”
“Where’s the copy?”
“At school. It’s in code, but I figured it out.”
“I’m going to need that notebook.”
Anxious to end the meeting, Stump rose. “Okay, I’ll go get it.”
Byrdswain pointed at Stump’s chair. “I didn’t mean right now.”
Detective Sanchez asked the next question. “Did Dixon admit in that notebook that he raped Maria’s mom?”
“No, but it said he was Maria’s real dad and that he had over twenty thousand dollars hidden away for her.”
Myles sat back and crossed his arms.
Grandma Pauline pointed to the wall. “That house is Sheila and Ted’s after they got their grant from the county.”
Myles placed a finger on his lips. “Shh.”
Sergeant Byrdswain tapped at the table. “So you were messing around with Dixon’s daughter, and Dixon must have found out his notebook was missing. Did he confront you about these things?”
“Yes, sir, but I denied knowing anything about it. That’s when he let the air out of my tires and almost killed me and made me miss a meeting with the Mayor and the City Council. Now a whole neighborhood is dangerous because of him.”
“I thought the City Council had another meeting coming up?” Detective Sanchez said. “You could try again.”
“It’s the day after tomorrow, but I can’t go back because they think I’m a flake.”
“We’re getting off track here,” Sergeant Byrdswain said. “Let’s get back to last night and our victim. Where were you from seven-thirty to eight-thirty?”
A bolt of adrenalin raced up Stump’s spine. “Am I a suspect, cause I don’t have a motive and I liked Mr. Kraft. He was like a grandpa to me.”
“Grandpa? Is my husband here?”
Myles shook his head. “No, mom, we’re talking about somebody else.”
“But you were at the building earlier in the evening?” Byrdswain continued. “True?”
“Yes. I got my driver’s license and my dad let me take his truck over there.”
“What time was that?”
“I worked until seven.”
“Then what did you do?”
Ugh! Stump didn’t want to say he took Maria to the maintenance room or the flower shop. “Maria and I went for a very long walk. She can verify that.”
“We’ll ask her. What time did you get back?”
“Just about five minutes before you got there. I saw you park on the sidewalk.”
“So you didn’t see or hear anything between seven or so when you left the property until you got back, at the same time I arrived?”
“We weren’t there when Mr. Kraft was killed, if that’s what you mean.”
“Alright, that’s enough for n
ow. But in the future, I want you to call Detective Sanchez and me before you go sticking your nose into police business. Okay?”
Stump sighed. “I wanted to.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
The next day, Stump dragged himself to school and got drawn into more conversations about the murder. Yes, he knew the victim. No, he wasn’t there when it happened. Yes, he saw the body. Yes, he’d missed a lot of school lately.
Then at lunch, he sneaked into the restroom and hid in a stall, just to have some peace. He pulled out his iPhone and sent a brief “I miss you” text to Maria. Then he remembered the notes he’d previously left himself. He checked out Maslow, party lines and Jack Ruby. He found it interesting that Grandma Pauline knew so much about a mobster from decades earlier but could easily forget where she was at any moment.
Another note regarded the comment Grandma Pauline made about her neighbors in Oklahoma. He couldn’t take anything Grandma Pauline said at face value, but she seemed pretty certain that her friends got a grant for their windows. He wondered if other places, such as Palmdale, had anything like that. He tweaked the key words a couple times before he nearly fell off the stool.
Rebuilding Together
Through our Home Modification Program,
we aim to improve safety and accessibility within
and around the home for Seniors, Disabled People,
Veterans and Low-Income Families.
Holy shit. Words like low-income families and safety sounded perfect for his old neighborhood. He quickly dialed the number and worked through several prompts before a real person came on. “Rebuilding Together. Help you?”
“Yes, please,” he said drawing on his earlier experience about sounding mature on the phone. “My name’s Neal Randolph. I’m in Palmdale. We’re wondering if you guys have any grant money to fix houses.”
“I’m sorry. Where’d you say you are?”
“Palmdale, California.”
“We’re in a hundred and sixty places. Let me look it up.”
A hundred and sixty places? Wow. That was good odds.
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