I sighed as I thought about what it was I really wanted and how much of a risk it would be for her if she obliged. “May I speak with you privately?” I asked.
“Sure. Let’s go to my office.”
We walked to her office situated just behind the payment counters that stretched across from one end of the room to the next. She shut the door and sat down after I was comfortably seated in the leather chair in front of her desk. Glenda was Manager of the local phone company and had spent the last two decades climbing the ladder from a customer service position all the way up to her current post. Throughout the years of my going there to take care of my phone bill, she’d shared with me her ups and downs, trials and triumphs. Her friendliness as a CSR in those early years and my loquaciousness as a customer are what connected us so well from the beginning.
“I suppose you heard what happened at my home several days ago,” I started.
“I did. What an awful tragedy it was! To think, I would’ve been right there if I didn’t happen to be travelling last weekend,” she said.
“Yep. I suppose you also heard that they’re holding David, Merlene’s boy.”
She nodded. “I heard that too. Do you think he killed that girl or was it just an accident?”
“He didn’t kill her. Maybe no one did. But I’m trying to see what I can find out because right now, his freedom is at stake.”
“What is it that you need, Lucille?” A more serious expression emerged on her face.
“I know what I’m about to ask you is putting your job on the line, but…”
“You wouldn’t ask me if you didn’t think it was really important,” she interjected.
“Uh huh.” I nodded.
“What is it?”
“I’d like a print-out of Sabrina Abram’s phone record—calls, texts. She’d been dating David for the past six months and maybe something is there that can help his case somehow.”
There were a few moments of silence while she obviously considered my request. “Two detectives were in here the other day making the same request. Do you really think David is innocent?”
“I do. I truly do,” I said.
“Well, that’s enough for me.”
She turned toward her computer and started typing.
“Thank you, Glenda. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it. Anything I can do to help.”
A large printer sat in a corner of the office behind her desk. As the pages were shooting out, I could see all of the transactions—possibly hundreds of them listed on the sheets. That was the first time anything quite like that had happened to me, apart from the other night when I saw listings in the phone book Sir Clement had blatantly placed before me. Something was happening to me which affected my psyche even more and I was now becoming convinced that it had everything to do with this case. I was beginning to feel like it was a calling for me to set things straight somehow for David’s sake. And even in some way for Sir Clement’s sake, since he’d obviously given me a clue that there, in that building, was where I should be. Glenda got up and retrieved the pages, then sat down again.
From my mental picture of the print-out, I could tell from David’s correspondence via text messages with Sabrina on May 9th, two weeks before her death, that he’d confronted her about possibly cheating on him and said if he ever found any proof of it, she’d live to regret it. Well, to me, that was the so-called details that Detective Lance said he couldn’t disclose. A load of weak circumstantial evidence he’d used to try to get David to confess. The manner in which David had conducted himself while annoyed at Sabrina seemed contrary to his gentle nature, but maybe she’d brought out the worst in him. Nothing else about the text messages between the couple appeared to have spelt murder. But something else stood out to me and did so in grand fashion. I had to ask Glenda right away and like rather recently, I couldn’t without possibly blowing my cover.
“What do you plan on doing with this Lucille, since…well, it’s not like it’s in braille.”
I crinkled my forehead. “Glenda, did you look through the record at any point after the detectives came and requested a copy?”
“No. It didn’t occur to me to do so. Why do you ask?”
“Whose number is 544-1661? You should see that listed dozens of times. It’s not David’s number.”
“I can find out who it’s registered to,” she replied, looking through the report. “It could be a relative or somebody close to her. I guess it only can be, considering the number of times they’ve communicated within the past four months.” She then looked at me. “Wait…how do you know about this number?”
I felt like I was a deer caught in headlights. I had to throw her off since my only concern right then was getting that information. “I’ll explain later. Just please…find out whose number that is.”
She returned to the computer again and in less than a minute, a red, rectangular block on her screen popped up.
“The number belongs to a Frederick Fairweather of Burrow’s Heights,” she revealed.
My heart sank. Suddenly, I had flashbacks of how nervous he appeared to be at my house during the group interrogation and then his odd behavior at the Recreation Center. I smelled a rat, for sure.
“Thank you, Glenda. Can I have that?”
“Sure!” She folded the print-out and tucked it into a white envelope, which I then transferred to my purse.
“Will you be all right?” I asked out of genuine concern.
“Do whatever you need to do with the print-out, Lucille. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got too much dirt on the powers that be for them to even think of bothering me if the you know what hits the fan. My job here is secure.”
I smiled with relief.
Glenda and I embraced before she walked with me out toward the exit.
Theodore and Nilla were waiting in the air-conditioned foyer. Nilla was comfortably stretched across his lap.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long,” I said to Theodore.
“Twenty minutes wasn’t such a long time.” He stood up. “Wanna go down to Frank’s Grub and grab some lunch?”
“Sure, why not?”
I felt especially good knowing I’d discovered something that the police had obviously chosen to overlook. What their reasoning was, I’d find out sooner or later.
17
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The next morning, I showed up at Debbie Anderson’s door, alone. I’d barely slept the night before due to the constant flashbacks that flooded my mind. Scenes from the party—greeting guests at the door; Frederick Fairweather’s suspicious behavior, Sir Clement and the others encircling Sabrina’s dead body on the ground in my back yard; the print-out from the phone company.
“Hi, Lucille,” Debbie answered the door. Judy was close by in the living room.
“Good morning, Miss Pfiffer!” Judy exclaimed.
I always appreciated the child’s cheerful demeanor. Angela, the housekeeper, entered the adjacent dining room with a broom and dustpan in hand.
“Good morning, everyone,” I said. “Sorry to be coming by so early.”
“That’s all right, Lucille.” Debbie invited me in.
I went inside, but declined her offer to sit down. Gary hurried down the stairs, gave me a quick hail, then was out the door. Always on the go—the story of his life.
“I came to see Angela,” I said.
Debbie looked confused.
“Me?” Angela stopped her sweeping.
“Judy, can you excuse us for a few minutes?” I asked.
“Okay!” She immediately dashed up the stairs.
“She’s gone,” Debbie advised. “What is it that you need to see Angela about, Lucille?”
“Debbie, remember at the party after you all arrived, you mentioned your housekeeper had forgotten her purse and you left the door unlocked for her to enter and get it?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“What time did you arrive back
at the house, Angela?” I asked.
She suddenly seemed nervous. “A…A little after eight o’clock, maybe.”
“Did you go up to the balcony that night for any reason? The one that overlooks my back yard?”
“No!” she quickly retorted. “I never went out to the balcony that night. I got my purse and left.”
I slowly approached her. “Tell the truth, Angela. It’s very important.”
“I am telling the truth!” She looked Debbie’s way for support.
“Why are you afraid, Angela?”
“Lucille, what is this about?” Debbie asked.
“Angela knows who killed Sabrina. Yes, I said killed.”
Debbie was aghast.
“Someone pushed her over the rail and your housekeeper here witnessed it.”
“That’s not true! She’s a liar!” Angela shouted.
“You know I’m telling the truth,” I said. “The killer didn’t see you, but Nilla did.”
“Your dog?” she scoffed.
“That’s why she constantly barks and behaves erratically whenever she sees you. She was staring up at the balcony of this house overlooking my yard when we discovered Sabrina’s body. No one except you and Nilla knew when she landed on the ground due to the loud music playing that night and you saw who pushed her.”
She went to Debbie with desperation in her eyes. “Please make this woman leave. She’s accusing me of something I have no knowledge of!”
Debbie lowered her head slightly. “I saw Nilla’s reaction toward you the other day. She’s always been a keen dog. Angela, look me in the eyes… did you see what happened to that young woman who died?”
Angela was quiet. To me, it was confirmation that my suspicions were correct.
“I am only an immigrant in this country,” she said. “I have waited twelve years to be able to come here and have a good, decent life. I cannot be involved in any murder; I cannot take that chance. I don’t want to be sent back.”
Debbie took her hand and squeezed it gently. “They can’t send you back for testifying as a witness to a murder. Your willingness to help convict the guilty party might actually help you to get permanent status here.”
A load seemed to suddenly be lifted from Angela’s face. “Are you sure?”
Debbie nodded. “I’m sure. Please tell us what you saw.”
I finally took a seat while Angela explained what she’d witnessed from her employers’ balcony that night. At the end, I made a phone call to Mickey Carey, who advised me to have Debbie bring Angela to his office right away where she’d make a sworn statement before he contacted the Sheriff—the only one he trusted in the Department.
Next, I rang Merlene’s number. “Meet me at Mickey’s office,” I said. “I have something to tell you urgently.”
Debbie, Angela and I headed to Mickey’s office where Angela gave her statement and signed the affidavit. I handed over the print-out to Mickey from the phone company as well. His suspicions were just as good as mine concerning the number that belonged to dear, old Freddie.
Evidently, Mickey was having an easy run after all, for whatever his legal fees were about to be, considering I’d done just about all of the leg work.
Merlene arrived at the firm shortly after we did and I filled her in on everything.
“My goodness, Lucille! Why didn’t you tell me you were doing any of this?” she said, as we sat alone. “You took it all on by yourself. I could’ve helped in some way.”
“No. You had your hands full already. And furthermore, you would’ve only gotten in the way.”
She managed a smile, then came over and gave me a great, big hug.
“You’re the best friend a person could ever have. I can’t express to you how grateful I am to call you not just my friend, but my sister,” she said.
That touched me. I always wanted a sister. For her to call me that, I guess was a good substitution for the fact that I never had a blood one.
We all waited for Sheriff Cooke to show up and in the end, a plan was set in motion that mostly involved me. Hopefully, if we pulled it off in a couple of days, David would be released and charges never filed against him.
18
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“Why in the world is he still being held?” Merlene demanded an answer from Cooke as we stood inside his office. The place reeked of cigar smoke.
“I thought we went through this, Merlene! David’s good with it; he understands what we’re doing. What is it that you don’t get?”
Cooke was clearly agitated. I had a hunch he hadn’t tackled too many of these types of investigations and needed his focus to remain glued to the task at hand. Merlene was proving to be a distraction and I knew it wasn’t a good thing.
“I don’t trust you people!” she replied. “When this is over, I have a thing or two to say to you and your detectives.”
“Okay, that’s fine!” Cooke raised his hands. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have to get a move on.”
He looked at Theodore. “Are you ready, son?”
“Surely am,” Theodore said.
“Well, get her there and then get out of the way like we discussed, okay?”
Theodore gave him a thumbs up.
I turned to Merlene. “Stay calm. Remember, this is for David’s benefit; just keep that in mind, all right?” I spoke softly.
“All right.” She nodded. “But I meant what I said.”
“I know you did.”
She remained behind with Cooke as Theodore and I headed out.
“Are you scared?” Theodore asked after we left the parking lot.
“Of who?” I pretended not to know.
“Of the people you’re going to see.”
“Why should I be scared? Okay... no, I’m not,” I assured him.
It was a quarter past eleven, but already it seemed like I’d been awake for an entire day. I don’t think I ever settled down since certain things were unraveled two days earlier. Anthony couldn’t come along, but he was uptight about the whole matter; not feeling confident that I should’ve gotten so deeply involved in something he felt could backfire in the worst way. I never knew he cared about me so much and I was deeply touched.
Theodore pulled up in front of the main office of the Pichton Pet Society. I got out of the car and he saw me inside before pulling off.
The receptionist gave me an exceptionally warm welcome the moment I arrived and immediately took me to the conference room at the end of the hallway. Whomever the interior decorator was for the main offices of the compound deserved an award for creative excellence. The place looked rich with brown marble tiles both on the floors and midway up the walls, and the remaining section of the wall had been painted a light tannish color. A large flat screen TV had been braced to the wall in the conference room and tall, clear vases decked with colorful floral arrangements sat on round, glass side tables.
Recess lighting brightened the space and gave the room an exotic feel.
A few minutes later, Claire Fairweather entered the room with a smile stretched across her narrow face.
“Lucille, thanks for coming in! I must admit I was quite startled by your phone call. Can I offer you anything to drink?” She rested her briefcase and cell phone on the large, oval desk.
“Do you have champagne?”
“Um…sure. Sure, we do, and the finest, I might add.”
She opened the door and summoned the receptionist. “Tamara, please bring two glasses of the finest champagne we have.”
“Just two?” I asked. “Isn’t your husband, Freddie, coming to join us and any of the other board members?”
“Unfortunately, no other board members are in, but Freddie is here. He usually oversees everything around the compound. I’ll give him a call and ask him to run right over.”
She picked up her cell and made the call, then she sat down on the opposite side of the table.
“This is so exciting, Lucille! How wonderful of you to offer to help out in s
uch a grand way,” she said.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
The champagne arrived a few minutes later and I wasted no time indulging in its light, fruity essence. I realized it would’ve been proper for me to wait for dear Freddie so that we all could make a toast, but it wasn’t every day I felt like being proper.
Freddie walked in and sat next to his wife. Although he tried to hide it, it was obvious that he did not want to be there. Maybe there was something about me that made the poor guy nervous or anxious, or whatever he was. His demeanor was cold and edgy and just being around the guy made me a bit perturbed.
“Mrs. Pfiffer…” He managed an even hail.
“Freddie…” I replied in like manner.
“Well, I’d like to propose a toast!” Claire was as prim as a peacock. “To Lucille Pfiffer for being an active, extraordinary member of the Pichton Pet Society!”
We all raised our glasses. The modest me would’ve shied away from such praise, but I never denied the fact that I do relish attention.
After we all took a collective sip of our champagne, I reached into my purse, retrieved a white envelope and placed it on the table in front of us. “This is for the society,” I said. “I hope it will do a lot to save the animals out there.”
Freddie picked it up and handed it to Claire. She immediately slid the check out of the envelope. “Twenty-five thousand dollars!” she said with pure delight twinkling in her eyes. “My goodness, Lucille! When you said this morning that you had a donation, I never imagined it would be so huge! Thank you so very much.” She was smiling from ear to ear and Freddie managed to crack a smile as well. “Isn’t this wonderful, dear?” she said to him.
“Yes, dear. It’s fantastic.”
He was gradually appearing more at ease.
“I’d better be on my way, but before I go, I must ask you a question. And to be quite frank with you, your answer depends on whether or not you’ll be able to cash that check.” Suddenly, a puzzled expression emerged on both of their faces as they glanced at each other.
Lucille Pfiffer Mystery Series Box Set Page 10
