Prudy's Back!

by Marja McGraw

  “I don’t understand why someone would want to beat a helpless old man to death,” Dolly said.

  Pamela had turned back to drop off some forgotten straws and her brows raised another notch before she walked away.

  “I never could figure that out either,” Prudy said. “Matthew really wouldn’t have hurt anyone. His bark was a bit loud sometimes, but the kids brought that on themselves. That’s what got me to thinking about Hector. He wanted the money he thought Matt had, in the worst way. The problem is that he really wasn’t the violent type. He might steal, but I think he would have just run away if someone had confronted him, including Matthew. Of course, I could be wrong.”

  “Sometimes it’s the least likely person who commits the crime,” I said. I’d had a case or two in my time that surprised me. “You never know what might motivate someone to do something that’s out of character for them. Although, I personally believe that greed is behind many criminal acts. Well, that and passion of one sort or another.”

  “Crimes of passion are high on my list,” Dolly said. “I read a lot of books, and passion is right up there at the top on the list of motives.”

  “Well, you just let me get my hands on whoever killed Matthew, and they’ll be lookin’ at the wrong end of a gun! I’ll show them passion.”

  “Now, Prudy, you’re not going to shoot anyone,” Dolly said, trying to sooth the old woman.

  Pamela had arrived with our sandwiches and her eyebrows were off the charts. She looked at each of us in turn and slowly lowered her brows.

  “Oh, I get it. Dolly’s been reading another mystery. She’s telling you about her latest story.”

  “Uh, oh yeah, that’s it.” Prudy put on her sweetest smile. “Uh huh, she’s been giving us the plot. And I just told her what I’d do if I was in that story.”

  Pamela walked away slowly, obviously mulling over what she’d heard, not quite sure whether to believe Prudy or not.

  I glanced from Dolly to Prudy. “Now, look ladies, I know this is great fun for you two, but you can’t talk about this in public. After all, we are talking about a murder here. And we should keep this quiet and between us. We don’t need people making something out of what we’re doing. This is an investigation, and you, Prudy, should know better than anyone else that it needs to be kept quiet.”

  Prudy turned on me with her lips pursed and her eyes squinty. “Listen, Little Missy, I was investigating long before you were even born! And I…” She stopped cold, turning to Dolly. Her expression softened. “Sandi’s absolutely right. I should know better. Guess I’m out of practice. Sorry, Sandi.”

  “Okay. I know it’s an old case, but we still need to keep things low key. Now let’s discuss what we want to ask Stretch when we talk to him. And let’s do it quietly.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d thought for a moment that Prudy was going to show a side of herself that I didn’t necessarily want to see.

  “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.”

  I looked up to see a woman around my own age standing next to our table. Her long brown hair had been loosely permed and she wore a casual style. She was holding a pad of paper and a pencil, and she pushed up her glasses when they began to slide down her nose. I wondered what this was all about.

  “My name is Sharon Stone, no relation to the actress, and I’m a reporter. Can we talk?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t know what you want to talk about.”

  “Like I said, I couldn’t help but hear your conversation. Are you really working on an old murder?”

  “What if we are?” Prudy asked suspiciously.

  “Well, this might make a good story. Any chance we can discuss it? When did this murder happen?”

  “It happened in 1943,” I supplied, “and your readers wouldn’t be interested.” Okay, we needed to get rid of this woman.

  “Au contraire,” she said. “This would make a great piece. People love cold cases these days.”

  “I’m sorry, but we have nothing to say on the matter.” I turned my gaze pointedly toward Prudy and Dolly. “We don’t have enough facts yet and I don’t want it publicized.”

  “Well, here’s my card, in case you change your mind.” The reporter held out her business card. When I didn’t take it, she set it on the corner of the table. “You know, a story like this might bring someone out of the woodwork who has information. Someone who wouldn’t know to come forward without reading about it in the newspaper.”

  “You’re grasping at straws, uh, Sharon is it? There’s no story here for you.” I took a bite of my sandwich.

  She smiled at me. “We’ll see.” She had her check in her hand and walked to the cashier’s desk. After paying her bill, she waved at us.

  “Uh oh,” Prudy said. “There goes trouble, walking out the door.”

  “Better out the door than sitting near us,” I said. “I don’t want to get a reporter mixed up in this. The people we have to interview are all older, plus Opal has a business to run. If they see their names in the paper, they may decide not to cooperate.”

  We finished our lunch without further incident and I told my friends that I wanted to stop at the office on our way home. Prudy wanted to see it anyway, so they were anxious to get moving.

  When we reached the office, Dolly scrambled out of the car and latched onto Prudy’s arm, ready to give her new friend the tour. Prudy pulled her cane along behind her. It was only a one-room office, so I held back a chuckle. These women were growing on me in ways I’d never expected. They were just so darned cute.

  Pete was on the phone and Stanley was busily working at the computer. The other line rang and I answered while Dolly pointed out the filing cabinets to Prudy.

  It was a wrong number so I was off the phone in seconds.

  “Stan, have you found anything on Sgt. Balesmon?” I asked.

  “I’m working on it right now. It would help if you had a first name for him.”

  “Sorry, but the notes I found only show his surname. I guess we could check with the police department. They must still have some kind of records on him. Especially if he’s still living and receiving retirement.”

  Stanley glanced at me briefly and turned back to his computer. “That’s if he stayed with the department long enough to receive retirement. He could have left and taken a different job before retirement.”

  He clicked on something and said, “Wait! Here he is.” He read for a moment without commenting.

  “Well?” I asked. “What do you see?”

  Stanley grinned. “After retirement, Sgt. Elmore Balesmon became a private investigator. And he wrote a book about his experiences.”

  Fourteen

  “He wrote a book?” My first thought was that maybe he’d included something about the Bremmer case. “When did he write this book?”

  “Let me read a bit further.” Stanley leaned forward and squinted through his thick lenses, studying the computer screen. “Well, now, it appears the book was fiction, based on fact, and he self-published it. It just came out a couple of years ago.”

  “Does it say anything else about him? Like where he is now?” I fought the desire to push Stanley out of the way and read for myself. “Or where we can find a copy of the book?”

  Stanley smiled at me. “You can order the book from the publisher and some online bookstores, and he still lives right here in L.A.”

  He stood up and I slid into his seat, anxious to read what else he’d found. But there wasn’t much more. Apparently someone had built a website for Sgt. Balesmon, and only information pertinent to the book had been included, along with a very brief biography of the man.

  Stanley returned with the phone book, holding his finger under a listing. “Here he is. I’ll write the number down for you.”

  Prudy walked over to us. “I remember Elmore Balesmon. He was a good man, but he didn’t have enough information. I recall that he was frustrated, and he worked with Brian during his off-duty hours. They bo
th wanted to solve the case in the worst way. My Brian had worked with Elmore before.”

  “You should have asked her for this gentleman’s first name,” Stanley admonished me.

  He was right and no response was necessary.

  “We had him over for dinner several times, and then he and my husband would disappear into Brian’s office to go over what little they had. Did I mention that Brian had an office at home in addition to his regular office? That made things easier for me because he could do some of his work at the house. Junior and I didn’t have to spend so much time alone.”

  Stanley was watching Prudy and had obviously figured out who she was. I made the necessary introductions and Prudy linked her arm through his.

  “Say, young man, do you think you could teach me how to use that contraption?” Prudy pointed at the computer.

  “Stan can teach you anything you need to know,” Dolly said. “He’s a very smart man.” Dolly took hold of Stanley’s other arm.

  There was a sense of pride in her voice and it made me glance at her in surprise. She and Stanley hadn’t always gotten along. There was a time when she thought he was a yellow-bellied chicken, but apparently she’d moved past that.

  “Okay, Prudy and I need to head over to see Stretch. Stan, would you please call Sgt. Balesmon for me and find out if he can see me? I have a lot of questions for him.”

  “See if he’ll meet with us,” Prudy said, correcting me.

  “Will do,” Stanley replied.

  “Dolly, I’ll drop you off at home on our way to see the doctor. Let’s go, ladies.”

  Pete hung up the phone and turned to me. “Leaving already?”

  “We have to see Stretch, and he’s not going to wait for us if we’re late.” I didn’t want to miss my chance to meet with Dr. Framer.

  “Okay, I’ll pick you and Prudy up around seven o’clock tonight. That should give us plenty of time to make it to Opal’s on time.”

  “I’m amazed that we’re finding most of these people and meeting with them so soon,” I said. “It almost seems too easy.”

  “Watch out for too easy, doll.” Prudy shook her head. “If it seems that way, then something’s usually out of whack.”

  I drove Dolly home and checked my street map to be sure where the doctor’s house was located.

  Finding the address with no trouble, I discovered that Stretch lived in the same neighborhood as an underworld figure Pete and I had once confronted. Extremely nice homes, lots of money in the area.

  I walked around the car to help Prudy out, but she shooed me away. “I’m not old and helpless yet, Missy. I can get my own self out of this car.” She rocked a bit to gain momentum and stood up. “Now hand me that stupid cane.”

  “Prudy,” I said, “lose the attitude before we see Stretch. We want his cooperation. And do not, I repeat do not, call him Stretch. He hates that name.”

  “Why, my dear,” she said sweetly, “Dr. Framer has nothing to worry about from me.” It was the evil grin that belied her words.

  We slowly climbed a few steps and made our way up the walkway to the porch and front door. I rang the bell. Although I could hear faint noises inside, no one answered. I rang again. And we continued to wait.

  “You understand his game, right?” Prudy began to tap her foot. “He’s making us wait. That disgusting little brat is leaving an old lady to stand on the porch. Why I’ll have his – ”

  Prudy stopped talking as the door slowly opened. “Why, Stretch, is that you? My how you’ve changed.”

  She’d called him Stretch! I held my breath while studying the man standing in the doorway. He was tall and stood ramrod straight, and he obviously ate well. His paunch was not well-hidden. His white hair was combed straight back and had been expertly cut. I didn’t see much of the old Stretch in this man. He clenched his jaw and appeared to be ready to slam the door in our faces.

  “Dr. Framer,” I said quickly. “I’m sure you remember Prudy Lewis, and I’m Sandi Webster. Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with us.”

  He opened the door wider and stepped back. I latched onto Prudy’s arm, pulling her through the doorway before he could change his mind.

  “You have a beautiful home,” I said, glancing around. Best to move to his good side as quickly as possible.

  Ignoring my comment, Stretch turned and walked into a very large living room, apparently expecting us to follow him. I noticed a slight limp and remembered that he’d had polio as a child.

  “I don’t have much time, Ms. Webster. Let’s take care of this and we’ll all go our separate ways.” Stretch sat down and crossed his legs, fingering the crease in his pants.

  “What do you recall about the night Matthew Bremmer was murdered?” I asked. Might as well jump in with both feet.

  “Nothing,” Stretch replied. “I was in bed asleep at the time of the incident.”

  “Let me rephrase that.” He wasn’t going to offer any information without a struggle. “Is there anything that happened during your waking hours that stands out in your mind? Maybe something you saw or heard the day prior to his death? Any incident that was out of the ordinary could be pertinent.”

  I recognized the look in his eyes, because I’d seen the same expression on Prudy’s face. He was peering into his past.

  “I recall something that happened that day.” Prudy appeared to be pleased with herself.

  Stretch scowled at her. “I’m sure you do. But I’ll tell this story myself. You’d color the picture, Mrs. Lewis.”

  Okay, so there was something that I was as yet unaware of and he was about to enlighten me.

  “Go ahead, Stretch, spill your guts.” Prudy wasn’t helping.

  “If you want to hear what really happened that day, then keep quiet!” Stretch was losing patience with my elderly friend.

  I couldn’t blame him in a way, but maybe Prudy’s pushing would actually help, as long as he didn’t kick us out of his house.

  I patted her knee. She turned and winked at me, a tiny smile curving the corners of her mouth. The old woman was craftier than I gave her credit for. She knew how to push his buttons.

  “It was like this,” Stretch began. “My little brother was an idiot, but he was still my little brother. He was walking home from school and some bullies were picking on him. I saw what was going on and stopped them. It’s as simple as that.” He stopped there. End of story.

  “Keep going, Stretch. You know there’s more to the story than that.” Prudy wasn’t going to let him off the hook.

  “Please stop calling me Stretch. It’s Dr. Framer. I know I was a rotten kid, but things have changed. I worked hard to get where I am now. How about a truce? I’ll tell you what you want to know, but show a little respect. If you can’t deal with the title, then why don’t you just call me Walter?”

  Prudy laughed. “Dr. Framer, it was lovely watching you step down off your pedestal, and I think maybe I even like the new Stretch a little bit. Sorry, I won’t call you by that nickname again. But please do tell Sandi the rest of the story. We need facts, young man, or we’ll never solve this case.”

  The dynamics between these two were confusing. Prudy now sounded friendly toward the man, and his face softened as he studied her. He glanced down at her cowgirl boots and almost smiled.

  “Mrs. Lewis, you were always after us kids. Making us tow the line when you were around. Bet you never knew I had a grudging respect for you, did you? You made me stop and think about the things I was doing. And it was that thinking that made me stop and look toward my future. I have you to thank for going to dental school. No one else ever gave a damn about what Slim and I did. That little talk you had with me after Matthew’s death made a difference. Oh, not right away, but after I calmed down I realized that you actually had faith in me. Although, I try very hard not to think about that time in my life.”

  “Let me tell you why I call you Stretch, Walter. It’s because I knew there was something inside Stretch that could be saved. I
didn’t know Walter at all, but I knew Stretch had a future, if only he could see it for himself. When I call you by your nickname, it’s an endearing form of respect, if that makes sense. Believe it or not, I really did have faith in you.”

  Stretch beamed. “Ma’am, you call me whatever you want to, and I’ll help in any way I can.”

  I’d never seen brick walls tumble the way they had from around Walter Framer. The sullen old man had turned into a boy right in front of my eyes, thanks to an old woman whom I thought had totally disliked him. Life was full of surprises. That’s when I realized there’s a lot more to Prudy than meets the eye. But this didn’t mean that Stretch couldn’t be the killer. I had to keep that in mind while I listened to these people talk.

  “Alright, let’s get down to business. Let me tell you about the argument I had with Ratty Matty, sorry, Matthew, and why it happened. I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Stretch had that look on his face that people have when they really want to be believed. Was he about to make a confession?

  Fifteen

  “I was pretty angry about the kids who were picking on Slim. They were bigger than he was, and I felt protective toward my younger brother. They were cracking wise about him being skinny, calling him names and pushing him.

  “He always tried to act tough, but I could see the fear on his face that day. Those boys were going to push it to the limits and he was scared. So I stepped in.

  “While I was reading those guys the riot act and asking them if they wanted to fight someone their own size, Bremmer came out of his house. The boys had backed Slim into his yard, and Bremmer began yelling at them to go away. He should have seen what was happening and brought Slim into his house until those rowdies left.”

  I could see the contempt on Stretch’s face as he recalled that day. He wasn’t giving Matthew Bremmer any benefit of the doubt. Matthew was an old man who probably hadn’t realized what was happening. He’d more than likely thought they were trespassers.

  “Well,” Stretch continued, “those boys took off like a shot when they realized they’d have to come up against me. I had a reputation, and it wasn’t a good one.” His expression didn’t appear to be one of contrition over that reputation. “I yelled at Slim to go home, and then I turned on Bremmer.”