Prudy's Back!

by Marja McGraw

  The two men talked for another minute and then we left. “Sandi, you know this situation is out of control. Why don’t you let it rest? Let Rick take care of it.”

  “If Balesmon hadn’t called me, or I hadn’t had Stanley call him, maybe he’d be alive right now.”

  Pete frowned. “How can you know that? How could the killer know he was talking to you?”

  “Okay, so maybe it was just bad timing. Coincidence. But I believe that his death has to do with Matthew’s murder. And I plan on figuring this out. With or without your help.”

  “Of course I’m going to help you. Let’s go back to the office and discuss what you’ve uncovered so far. I’ve got plans for the future, and it sure would be nice if you were here to share them with me since they include you. I don’t need someone taking you out just when life feels so good.”

  My mouth dropped open. Plans? Life is good? Peter Goldberg had been doing some thinking, and it involved me! I closed my mouth and smiled.

  “What kind of plans?” I asked.

  “We’ll leave that discussion for another time. Right now, let’s get this Bremmer case cleared up.”

  “But – ”

  “Not now. Soon, but not now.”

  We arrived back at the office and found Stanley engrossed in something on the computer.

  “Hi,” he said. “I took another look at Hector while you were gone. I found some pretty interesting information. Say, what happened to Elmore Balesmon?”

  “He’s dead,” I said. “Someone hit him over the head and killed the ol’ guy.”

  “Do you believe it might be pertinent to your investigation?” We had Stanley’s attention. He turned away from his computer and leaned back in his chair.

  “I think so,” I replied. “He said there’d been an attempt on his life some time back when he was looking into Bremmer’s death, and now I contact him about Bremmer, and he’s dead.”

  “Oh dear,” Stanley said. “You know, I did leave a message at his home when you asked me to call him. Maybe someone overheard him listening, or maybe he contacted someone after hearing you’re looking into the case.”

  “We may never know,” Pete said.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have left the message, or maybe – ”

  I didn’t want to hear him beat himself up. “Stan, it wasn’t your fault. You had nothing to do with Balesmon’s death. Trust me, your phone message wasn’t the deciding factor here.”

  “What did you find on Hector?” Pete asked.

  “Oh yes, back to Hector. I printed up some material.” Stanley picked up a few pages and tapped the edges on his desk, straightening them. He handed them to Pete while speaking to me.

  “Mr. Brown has quite a long criminal history. Armed robbery, assault – he seems to stop just short of murder. With the Three Strike Law in effect, if he’s put in prison one more time, he’ll probably become a permanent resident. Most of his crimes were committed long before that law came into being, but not all of them.” Stanley had a way of speaking that was usually rather proper. Using terms like the Three Strike Law seemed to make him feel earthy, and yet professional.

  If a criminal is convicted of two violent crimes, including things such as attempted murder, rape and child molestation, just to name a few, and he’s convicted a third time on any felony charge, then at the judge’s discretion he can be imprisoned for twenty-five years to life. California isn’t the only state with the Third Strike Law. Apparently Stanley had been reading up about this.

  “What does it say, Pete?” I asked, watching him read the papers Stanley had handed him. “Anything else?”

  “No, it’s pretty much what Stan told you. He has felony charges dating back to the early 1950’s. Guess he never got caught before then. This is one bad ol’ boy. You want to be careful around him, Sandi.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Stan agreed. “Did you see any indication of his criminal tendencies when you interviewed him?” He watched my face expectantly.

  “Yeah. There were a few red lights flashing when we talked, not to mention his prison tattoos. Can’t say I noticed any redeeming qualities. He wasn’t even very nice to his elderly mother.”

  “Would that be the same mother who attacked a police officer and bit him when they tried to arrest Mr. Brown about ten years ago?” Stanley had a strange expression on his face.

  “No! You’re kidding! That little old lady? I mean, she had a mouth on her, but she seemed so sweet.”

  “Yes, that sweet little old lady bit the arresting officer for trying to take her baby back to prison. She was charged with assault and interfering with an arrest, but the judge let her off with a warning. I mean, she’s just a senior citizen, right?” I almost grinned. Stanley was being earthy with a little sarcasm thrown in.

  “I never would have guessed she had it in her.” I couldn’t get an image of Esther giving a cop the vampire kiss out of my head.

  “See what I mean?” Pete was shaking his head. “Sandi, you know better than to judge a person by their appearance. But then, you always did have a problem with that. And names. Remember when we first met? You were expecting someone Jewish because my name is Goldberg. And when you found out I was Italian, you fell all over yourself trying to pull your foot out of your mouth.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t help myself. I try, but Pete, other than her language, which wasn’t all that bad, Esther seemed so… So elderly, so helpless.”

  “The key word there being seemed.” Pete threw my word back at me.

  I looked at him, and at the floor. I glanced Stan’s way, turned my head toward the ceiling, and gazed at the floor again.

  I sighed. “If I have to meet with Hector or Esther again, I’ll watch myself. Or maybe I’ll take one of you with me.”

  Stanley appeared uncomfortable when I said that. I knew he’d go with me if I needed him, but it wasn’t high on his list of things he wanted to do. Hector wasn’t his type, so to speak.

  Pete, of course, appeared to be pleased with my statement. I was pretty sure if I had to meet with Hector Brown again, he would offer to accompany me.

  “Okay, let’s talk about what you’ve come up with after talking to these people.” Pete pulled a chair up to my desk and waited for me to sit down.

  “In all honesty, it’s really sounding like Nick Stanton killed Matthew.” I sat down and pulled out my notes.

  “And what leads you to that conclusion?” he asked.

  I thought back over all of my interviews. I didn’t really need my notes. “Nick’s name and actions have come up in almost every conversation I’ve had with Prudy’s old neighbors.

  “First, Stretch had an argument with Matthew the day before the murder because of a situation between Slim and some bullies. He was angry, thinking that Matthew should have helped Slim, and he pushed the old man. While this was going on Slim saw Nick start across the street. Apparently he had second thoughts and went home to watch from his yard.

  “Secondly, Opal said that Nick went out the night before the murder and came home drunk and belligerent. Remember? I asked if he went out again that night and she said not to her knowledge. I think she was covering for him.

  “And Matthew was killed during the early morning hours of the next day. So if Nick came home late, and drunk, he could have left again and killed Matthew.”

  “Since Stanton is dead, why would Opal cover for him? It shouldn’t matter now.” Pete wasn’t coming at the situation from the right angle.

  “Because she has to protect her company, and in doing that, she needs to protect Nick’s reputation.” I was sure I had it all figured out.

  “And Slim said that he heard Nick ranting at Opal. Nick told Opal her mother was a whore and she probably wasn’t even his child. Can you imagine saying something that mean to a nine-year-old child?

  “So between Slim and Opal, we know that Nick was angry that night. And an angry drunk can lose control in a hurry. Maybe he stewed over Matthew and decided to av
enge his daughter for something that the old man didn’t even do.”

  “Okay, I’m with you so far.” Pete leaned forward. “What else? There must be more than that for you to believe Stanton did it.”

  “There’s more, alright. Hector and his buddies were at a bar that night, and so was Nick. Hector overheard Nick telling a friend that he believed Matthew had tried something with Opal and he was going to get even. He even talked about Brian, saying that Prudy’s husband couldn’t always be there to protect Matthew. Hector said that Nick had boasted about maybe taking Brian out, too.”

  “You’re right. Things don’t look too good for Stanton. It’s all circumstantial, but you could be right.”

  “There’s just one thing that’s bothering me,” I said.

  “What’s that?” Stanley asked. He’d pulled his chair over and sat listening to our discussion.

  “Who’s threatening me? Nick’s dead, so it’s not him. Opal may want to save his reputation, but at the risk of getting herself in trouble? I don’t think so. Slim and Stretch don’t seem to have a reason, and Hector wouldn’t be so subtle. He’d probably just slap me upside the head.”

  “Hmmm. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, does it?” Pete said, more to himself than to me.

  “Good question. Who might be threatening you?” Stanley tapped his chin.

  Twenty-seven

  “It’s a puzzler. Obviously, I don’t have all the facts yet. And I need to find something concrete, whether the killer is Nick or someone else.” I leaned my elbows on the desk and rested my head on my folded hands, contemplating life. If nothing else, I’d been meeting some interesting people during my interviews.

  We sat quietly for a few minutes, each looking thoughtful and no one coming to any conclusions, other than I decided I didn’t care for old cases. Not enough to work with as far as I was concerned. And there was always the problem of faulty memories. Who knew how much of what I was hearing was factual?

  “Have you taken a look at Brian’s notes yet?” Pete asked.

  “No, I haven’t. And now that you mention it, Prudy seemed to think there was a clue in those notes. Balesmon thought Brian might be onto something, too. I’m falling down on the job. The first thing I should have done was read Brian’s notes.” I was thoroughly disgusted with myself. There they were, sitting in a box at Dolly’s house just waiting for me.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Pete stood up. “Why don’t you go take a look at the notes before we go out to dinner tonight?”

  “I’m on my way home right now.” I picked up my backpack and headed for the door. “If Rick calls with anything about Balesmon, will you please give me a call at home?”

  “Will do,” Stanley said.

  “Yeah.” Pete had already sat down at his desk and was dialing the phone. “I’m calling Rick right now. I’ll let you know if they have anything yet.”

  Driving home, I mentally kicked myself. I could have possibly saved myself several steps if I’d read Brian’s notes before my interviews.

  I was in for more frustration when I arrived home. Dolly and Prudy had gone out. Neither one of them drove, so I didn’t know where they could be.

  Dolly had put Bubba in the backyard, and I found him sniffing around the trash can again. Another reminder that I hadn’t gotten rid of the rat yet.

  Calling to Bubba, I asked him if he wanted to go for a ride with me. He did a little dance, although in a dog his size, it wasn’t too cute. I should have left him at home since he was the reason I had to do what I had to do. I thought there might be a rule against what I had planned, and even if there wasn’t it could prove embarrassing if I were caught. Somehow I knew having Bubba in the car with me would give me strength.

  I drove past a few convenience stores until I found one with a full trash receptacle. I knew that meant the collector would be by soon to empty it. I drove up to it, and with the car running, I climbed out and opened the trunk, pulling out the bag. I glanced around to be sure no one was watching and made my disgusting deposit. If I’d broken any rules, well, too bad. The stench that wafted up when I lifted the top was punishment enough. Sometimes I felt like I was too honest, except when it came to obtaining information on an investigation. That was a whole different story.

  Feeling guilty about using the convenience store’s receptacle and about the gift I’d left for the collector, I pulled up to the store and went in to buy a soda. The purchase of a drink only assuaged my guilt a little, so I added some chocolate to my short list. Chocolate always erased bad feelings. With that thought in mind, I picked up a second candy bar and a bag of chips. Pete didn’t understand the chocolate concept, but I didn’t care. Comfort food worked.

  I drove home, but Dolly and Prudy weren’t back yet. I wondered where they could be. Maybe they were visiting a neighbor.

  I retrieved a lawn chair from the side yard and sat on the front porch, once again going over everything I’d learned about Prudy’s old neighbors. My last thought was that seniors could be a little nutty when they wanted to be.

  The sound of a car door slamming made me realize I’d nodded off. Opening my eyes, I glanced at my visitor and groaned.

  “I heard that. I don’t usually make people groan that loud.” Sharon Stone was on a mission and walked rapidly up my walkway.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I just thought I’d come over and see how you’re doing with your murder investigation. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “You know I do.” My little nap had left me cranky. The last person I wanted to see was Sharon. Well, she was one of the last people.

  “Oh, come on. I’m just trying to do my job and you know it.”

  “Sharon, the last I heard, and this was from your own lips, your job is to write fluff pieces. Not work on a murder case.”

  “I told you why I’m interested. This story could help me make the leap from fluff to the meaty stories. I have an awfully strong craving for meat.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” I mumbled, sounding far less sarcastic than I was feeling.

  She heard me, but chose to ignore my comment. “Well? Anything new?” She had no problem coming right to the point.

  “Nothing I can tell you. I said I’d give you an exclusive if and when I find the killer. And that hasn’t happened yet.”

  “You must have something you can give me.” Miss Delightful was being pushy.

  “Not yet. Now go away.”

  “Nope. Not unless you give me some little tidbit that I can pass on to my boss. I need something I can take to him and make it sound like I’m on to a real story, which I am.”

  “Other than some phone calls – ”

  “Ha! You do have something.”

  Me and my big mouth! I wished I hadn’t fallen asleep. I really wished I’d awakened feeling sharper than I did at that moment. I sighed, still my favorite pastime. “Okay. I did receive a couple of threatening calls. But they were nothing for you to get excited about.”

  Ignoring that, she moved on to the real reason for her visit. “What about that murder you were involved in this morning?”

  “What? How did you…?” I was close to stammering, not something I do often.

  “I’ve been checking. I know that you were questioned about a murder this morning. And, interestingly enough, the man who died was a little old man. A senior citizen. One of the old people in this town. A one-time cop. Now, let me see. As I recall, you’re working on a very old murder. Do I see a connection here? I think so. What do you have to say?”

  I glared at her. “You’ve been following me, haven’t you?”

  “No.” She answered too quickly, and her red face gave her away.

  “Well, stop it. I’ll be watching for you from now on.”

  “Do you have another chair? I can sit down and we can have a little chat.” Sharon was glancing around, looking for a place to sit, trying to ignore the fact that she’d been caught. When I didn’t offer to help, she started to
lower herself onto one of the front steps.

  “Don’t bother to get comfortable. Take a hike, Sharon, and don’t come back unless you’re invited. I have nothing to say to you.” I clamped my lips together, trying hard not to say another word, because the word I had in mind wasn’t very ladylike.

  She remained standing, but kept talking. “And what about these calls you’re receiving? Is someone threatening you? Or do you have a Deep Mouth offering you information?”

  “That’s Deep Throat if you remember your history, and no. No to everything you might want to ask me. We’re done here. Turn your little self around and walk back down my walkway. And be quick about it.”

  I turned to Bubba, remembering he’d made Sharon feel uncomfortable when she was in my office. I didn’t mind using him in these circumstances.

  “I can have Bubba escort you to your car, if you’d like.”

  “Okay.” She sounded disgusted, but threw Bubba a worried glance. He grinned at her. She flinched, not understanding. “I’m going. But I’ll be back. You owe me – ”

  “What? I owe you nothing. I don’t even know you. You just forced yourself on me after eavesdropping on a conversation in a restaurant. Not a good way to win an ally, eavesdropping that is. Actually, being pushy isn’t going to further your cause either.”

  Sharon glared back at me before turning and stomping down the walkway. She opened her car door, but before climbing in she had one last thing to say. “We’re not done, Sandi. I’ll be back, and you’ll be glad to see me.”

  “Right.” Like I needed this kid driving me nuts. I wondered if all reporters handled things the way she did. No, I knew better than that.

  I expected Sharon to lay a little rubber when she left, but surprisingly she drove very sedately, observing the speed limit.

  I watched her car until it turned the corner. What a pain in the neck she was turning out to be. How did she find out about Balesmon? Had she really been following me? If so, she was good. I could usually spot a tail in nothing flat. I’d had lots of experience.