“That’s a big accusation, Laney.” I wondered if she was simply upset and in shock, like Sterling.
“It’s not an accusation. He’s been threatening the Wizard for weeks now. I’ve told the police about it, but they said there was nothing they could do unless the Wizard agreed to talk with them. He wouldn’t. You know what he’s like—what he was like.” She buried her face in her apron.
“Oh Laney, I’m so sorry.” I hugged her.
She gulped back tears. “He was a wonderful man, Juliet. He had a heart of gold. I can’t believe Hunter killed him. Why? Why? Just to make sure that his fancy bike shop attracted rich tourists?”
I let her vent.
“I told the police this dozens of times. Now, maybe they’ll look into Hunter’s shady practices. They could have stopped this though. They could have saved the Wizard. I blame them as much as I blame Hunter.” She broke down.
I felt terrible for her. I knew how disturbing it was to see someone come to harm. “It sounds like you really cared for him. He was lucky to have you as a friend.”
My words didn’t appear to bring her any comfort. That comment made her cry harder.
“He was a tortured gentle soul who didn’t deserve to die. Not like this.” She looked in the direction of the tracks.
I was about to suggest that she come sit down with Sterling in the garden, but Detective Kerry came up to us. She was tall and thin with long red hair and wide green eyes. Unlike Thomas and the Professor, who tended to dress casually, Kerry wore tailored black slacks, a matching black jacket, and heels. “Can I have a word, Juliet?”
“Sure.” I turned to Laney. “Are you good?”
Laney brushed tears from her eyes with her apron again. “No, but there’s nothing more I can do. I need to go wash my hands and clean up. I guess I might as well get lunch prep finished. Not that I want to cook, but at least it will give me something to do. And I’m going to need to air out the truck before customers start to arrive.”
“I’ll check in once I’m done chatting with Kerry,” I promised, giving her another hug.
Detective Kerry pulled me over to the side of the half-stained fence. “Doug wants me to take your statement. I know you already spoke with him on the phone, but we need to get it written down.”
“Of course.” I told her everything I remembered.
She took notes on a legal notepad, meticulously surveying the space around us while I relayed the chain of events.
When I finished, I glanced to the tracks where the ambulance was pulling away. “Is it true that he was murdered?”
Detective Kerry kept her face neutral. “I’m not at liberty to answer that, but I can tell you that we will be pursuing multiple leads.”
Was that code for yes?
I knew it was futile to press her. She was a locked vault. It was one of the many reasons that the Professor had hired her and was preparing her and Thomas to take over the department in the coming years. I couldn’t blame Detective Kerry for doing her job, but I was more than curious to know if Laney was right about Hunter and Lars. Was his death an accident or could someone have killed him?
Chapter Seven
By the time I returned to the garden, I found Sterling and Andy nursing coffees and eating club sandwiches. “You look better,” I said to Sterling.
“Yeah, this guy always has my back.” Sterling gave Andy a weak smile.
“Don’t thank me. This is from Marty,” Andy said offering me a sandwich. “I gave everyone a brief recap and Marty immediately packed up sandwiches. He told me to tell you and Sterling that stress burns calories and the best way to counteract that surge of adrenaline and to feel normal is with a protein sandwich like this club. It’s got layers of turkey, ham, cheese, bacon, lettuce, tomatoes … and Marty’s secret sauce. He also wanted me to tell you that everything is under control at Torte and not to worry.”
I sat down and took half of the giant sandwich. Never had I been more grateful for my staff. Not only was Marty’s sandwich the fuel I needed, but worrying about Torte hadn’t crossed my mind. It was such a gift to know that the bakeshop was in capable hands.
“What’s the word, boss?” Andy asked. “Thomas took my statement, but unfortunately there wasn’t much to tell. We only saw the aftermath. Was the guy already dead?”
“They’re not saying at the moment.” I poured myself a cup of steaming coffee.
“That’s standard procedure, right?” Sterling asked. His lips had lost their bluish tint and his hands were much steadier as he poured himself a refill. “I talked to Thomas too. He made it sound like they knew the guy was already dead.”
I wasn’t surprised that Thomas might have been more forthcoming than Detective Kerry. “Yeah, I’m sure they have to play things close to the chest until they get the official report from the coroner.”
“How do you think he was killed?” Sterling ripped off a hunk of his sandwich.
“I don’t know. Laney told me she felt a lump and a cut on the back of his head. I’m guessing that’s where the blood came from. But I can’t figure out the mechanics of that unless he fell backward onto the tracks.”
“Or was pushed off his bike, maybe?” Andy offered.
“Yes, but where’s the bike?” I sipped the coffee, tasting delicate notes of cherries and chocolate.
“Good question.” Andy adjusted his faded red baseball cap and looked around us, as if expecting to see the Wizard’s banana-seat bike propped against the gate.
“What about his friend?” Sterling asked, taking another bite of the massive stacked sandwich. “Sky, was that his name? The guy who fell this morning. What happened to him?”
“Another good question.” I seconded Andy’s statement. How long had it been since I’d seen Sky and the Wizard? Three hours? What had occurred in that short stretch of time to cause someone to murder the Wizard? If it was murder. And the bigger question was, what was the Wizard’s story? He had a name, a past, maybe even a family.
“Does anyone know who he actually was?” Sterling asked.
Had he read my mind? “I was wondering the same thing,” I said, cradling my coffee in my hands. “Laney seems to be the most connected to him. Once the shock of the morning wears off, I’ll try to talk to her again and see if I can find out anything more. She is really shaken up, understandably.”
Emergency lights flooded the garden as the ambulance and two police cars left the scene. A few minutes later, the Professor unlatched the side gate and walked toward us. He wore a pair of khaki slacks, a pale blue and green button-up shirt, and his signature tweed jacket. In one hand he held a Moleskine notebook and in the other a mangled set of handlebars secured in a large plastic evidence bag.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said with an attempt at a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “As the Bard would say, ‘Discomfort guides my tongue and bids me speak of nothing but despair.’” He placed the notebook on the bistro table and nodded to an empty chair next to Andy. “May I?”
“Of course,” I replied.
“Can I pour you a coffee, Mr. Professor?” Andy offered, reaching for the thermos.
“That would be much appreciated.” The Professor set the bag with the twisted handlebars on an empty bistro table next to him.
“Are those from the Wizard’s bike?” I asked.
Andy handed him a cup of coffee and passed him a sandwich.
“Many thanks.” The Professor ran his finger along the plastic evidence bag. “We do believe these belonged to the deceased. Although, it’s puzzling. They were found at Railroad Park. Not anywhere near the scene of the crime. At the moment we have found nothing more of his bike, but Thomas and Kerry and the rest of the team are searching a wide perimeter as we speak, in hopes that more will turn up.”
“Do you think he crashed?” I asked.
The Professor took a long sip of his coffee and exhaled. “Doubtful. The trauma to his head isn’t consistent with that kind of a fall. It appears more in line with blunt forc
e. We’ll have to wait for confirmation from the coroner, but I suspect he was bludgeoned on the back of his head with a heavy, solid object, like a baseball bat … or even these.” He looked to the handlebars.
“You think he could have been killed with his own handlebars?”
“Not necessarily, but at this point we have to pursue every angle.”
I let his words sink in. “So you suspect that someone killed him?”
Creases formed in the Professor’s eyes as his lips pressed together. “Indeed.” He paused. Everyone went quiet.
“Who would kill him?” Andy voiced what I knew we were all thinking. “He was just a lonely homeless guy.”
“I agree.” The Professor gave him a solemn nod. “Murder is always an intolerable act in every circumstance, but given the Wizard’s state of living and the fact that the only thing he could be accused of was bringing joy in the form of his rambling rants and sharing balloon art with children in the park, it seems incomprehensible to us that someone should wish to end that life. And yet that’s the line of work that has called to me for these many years. I fear that with the passing of time, I’m able to stomach the thought less and less.” He pushed his plate away.
I knew that the Professor had been yearning to retire for a while, partly due to his relationship with Mom. They had talked of traveling more. The job had worn on him. In the past months, I had noticed a shift. His resolve to bring justice to our community hadn’t faltered, but the emotional burden of carrying the weight of such horrific losses had begun to take a toll. I hoped that Thomas and Kerry were ready to take over soon.
“Do you know anything more about the Wizard?” I asked.
“Most likely as much as you do. He’s been a fixture in town for many, many years. Thomas and Kerry will be doing their due diligence. The coroner may be able to provide us with some answers as well. If the Wizard was ever in our system, we’ll potentially be able to match prints or dental records, but we won’t know for a while.” He flipped open his notebook. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to stop by. I know that each of you has already provided a statement—thank you for that—but I wondered if any of you happen to know more about the Wizard. Take a moment and think about it. At this stage even the slightest clue might be helpful. Consider where you’ve seen him around town, people you may have witnessed him interacting with, and so forth.”
We considered his words for a moment.
“He used to come by Torte,” Andy said. “I used to see him in the mornings when I’d open. Sometimes I’d give him samples of our daily specials. He’d kind of hang around the plaza by the Lithia Fountain. I think a lot of the restaurants looked out for him. I’d see him getting pasta from the Green Goblin and leftover sandwiches from Puck’s. The only person who ever harassed him was Richard Lord.”
I wouldn’t mind seeing Richard Lord behind bars.
“Yeah, now that you mention it, I used to see him at the skate park,” Sterling added. “He hasn’t been around there for a while, but last summer he would bike around the park. Most of the skaters were pretty cool with him. Except for Lars.” Sterling glanced across the street to Cyclepath.
“You know Lars?” I asked.
“Not really.” Sterling was thoughtful for a moment. “He hangs around the skate park a lot. I’m trying to remember when this was. Probably a month or so ago, Lars and a couple of his friends were really cruel to the Wizard one night out there. They were calling him terrible names and throwing stuff at him. Skaters get a bad rap, but a bunch of us banded together and kicked them out. It’s not cool to torment anyone.”
Sterling’s recollection matched what Laney had said.
The Professor took note of Andy and Sterling’s observations.
“It’s the same for me,” I said. “The Wizard has been a fixture around town. It wasn’t until we started this renovation project that I’ve seen him more frequently.” I went on to tell him about my conversation with Laney and her insistence that Hunter from Cyclepath was involved, as well as about Dean’s interaction with the Wizard and Sky earlier, and Addie’s refusal to help.
When I finished, the Professor made a final note and closed his leather notebook. “Very informative as always. I must bid you adieu for now, but if our discussion triggers any other memories, please be sure to reach out right away.” He picked up the journal and evidence bag and left with a half bow.
“What now, boss?” Andy was halfway through his second club sandwich. I’d barely been able to eat more than a few bites.
I looked around the garden at the partially stained fence. “It’s totally up to you two. I think I’m probably going to stick around and finish staining, but you are more than welcome to go home or do whatever you need to take care of yourselves.” It felt strange to continue our project as if nothing had happened and yet I knew that if I sat and stewed it would only make things worse. Color had returned to Sterling’s cheeks. Between the coffee, the sandwich, and our chat with the Professor, I was feeling slightly more relaxed too.
“I could move. I think I need to do something productive.” Andy jumped up and began clearing our dishes. It was interesting to observe how everyone handled stress differently.
“Do you want to take off early?” I asked Sterling, taking a final sip of coffee. “Andy and I can finish.”
“No. That would be worse. I need to do something too.” He gave me a knowing look. “I can remember a few times that you’ve come into the kitchen saying that you ‘need to bake.’ I get it now.”
“It’s true.” I walked my coffee mug to the sink, where Andy was washing dishes. “One more for you.” I handed him my mug, then I dropped my voice. “Thank you for getting coffee and sandwiches. That was just what the doctor ordered.”
“Boss, no worries. I’ve got you covered. And, I’m going to keep an eye on our poet boy.” He scrubbed the dishes with force.
“How are you doing?” I asked, studying his face.
“Fine. I think.” He plunged a coffee cup into soapy water. “I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet, so I’m just going to go with the flow for the moment.”
“Okay. Remember I’m here if you need to talk, and you don’t need to stay.” I wanted to wrap him in a hug, but instead I shot him a smile and returned to staining. The afternoon had warmed with the sun. Locals spilled into the neighborhood for afternoon bike rides, jogs, and leisurely walks. They were likely to be surprised by the sight of yellow caution tape and an active police presence.
The energy in the Railroad District was different than in the plaza. I recognized many familiar faces, some of whom stopped to ask what had happened when they passed by. Moms wheeling wagons filled with toddlers, bubbles, and snacks headed for play dates at Railroad Park. Businesspeople headed to lunch at the swanky Italian bar across the street from Cyclepath. Three doors down in the opposite direction I could smell litti chokha, Indian soul food, grilling at Kha. It was strange to see people going about their normal day when a gruesome death had occurred nearby.
A team of police officers in blue uniforms performed a methodical search of the area, as the Professor had mentioned they would. They emptied the dumpsters behind Cyclepath and stopped to question business owners and people passing by. Bright yellow evidence markers were placed strategically on the street. Every so often our work would be disrupted by shouts from one officer to another to get a better look at potential clues.
A long line had formed at Nana’s. I had a feeling it wasn’t only the scent of barbecued beef and Kalua pork that had attracted the crowd.
“You ready for second lunch?” Sterling caught me staring at the food truck.
“My rumbling stomach says yes.” I nodded at the line. “I’m going to bet that Nana’s is booming today so that people can get a closer look at the police activity.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“I can wait for a while.” We moved from section to section of the perimeter fence. The physical act of staining wasn’t as cat
hartic as baking, but I worked up a sweat as the afternoon progressed. Once we had finished the inside section of fencing, we gathered our gear and went to work on the exterior. Sterling laid a drop cloth on the sidewalk and covered the fence hardware with blue painter’s tape.
I had just begun staining the front gate when I spotted Hunter darting behind the dumpsters on the backside of Cyclepath. He didn’t notice me, but I kept close watch on him as he lifted the heavy green lid on the dumpster and tossed something inside. Before returning along the sidewalk to the front entrance of his bike shop, he glanced around in every direction to make sure no one was watching. Then he ducked his head and hurried back inside.
“Did you see that?” I whispered to Sterling, who had finished taping the hardware.
“No. What?”
“Hunter,” I hissed. “He dumped something in the garbage.” I pointed to the dumpster.
“So?” Sterling looked confused.
“Never mind. I’m sure I’m being way too paranoid. My mind is playing out crazy scenarios, like Hunter dumping the murder weapon.”
Sterling stared at the green receptacle. “There’s one way to find out.”
“I think I’ll leave it to the police. We’ve had enough drama for one day.”
My mind raced, though. Was I being unrealistic to wonder what Hunter was up to? Between Laney and Sterling, it sounded like Lars had been tormenting the Wizard. Why? Was he a kid in need of parental guidance or had Hunter been the driving force behind Lars’ treatment of the Wizard? And, could the violence have escalated? If Lars and his friends had thrown rocks and pine cones at the poor old man, what would have stopped them from doing more?
Chapter Eight
We finished staining the fence by late afternoon. The result was transformative. Scoops was starting to look warm and inviting with the red-hued stain, Andy’s fresh coat of paint, our banner, and the newly stained fence. We had made great progress. But there was still plenty of work ahead of us. For one, getting rid of the massive pile of ivy and weeds sitting in the middle of the garden.
Chilled to the Cone Page 7
