“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”
“What’s your name?” she asked him, a little more subdued.
“Steve Sanborn,” he said quickly. “Are you going to turn me in?”
“We’ll see,” Maude said shortly. “We’ll see.” She left the officer in his worries, and entered the building through the back door, the employee entrance. By the time she reached the office, her good humor was taking over, making her see the comedy in the young officer’s expressions. He was worried, and it would do him good to have that lesson reinforced. Rudeness from a city employee was a dish that taxpayers shouldn’t be served, but she had no intention of ratting him out to his supervisor; that would be unfair after the ripping she had given him.
The incident with the new officer had the effect of clearing her head and putting her job in perspective. She needed to be at her best to find the woman’s killer and bring him to justice. A quick trip in to see the boss had Maude retelling the weekend action and turning over the time sheet for him to sign. Her coworkers, Detectives Eberhart and Wheeler, waved a good morning before getting back to the serious business of donut eating.
“Morning to you,” she acknowledged, wondering why Fat Frieda, also known as Detective Wheeler, a rotund Irishman with a tendency toward obesity, continued eating the carbs that made him fat. Eberhart was a lean black man who was handsome, even with his bald pate, but his wife kept him on a strict diet, avoiding any extra pounds like those his partner had acquired from eating a highly caloric diet. Maude could understand the need to nibble sometimes. What the heck, she thought, I have my weaknesses too. Who am I to say anything?
About that time, one of the sergeants passed through the office and yelled out, “Frieda, uh, Wheeler, what do you have there? Calorie-free donuts. Who woulda thunk it?”
Wheeler looked down for a minute then raised his eyes, red in the face. Maude almost felt sorry for him. Almost, that is, until she remembered all the snakelike things he’d pulled on the job. Wheeler was a guy who cried over his ethnic status, blaming the department for bias, then the supervisors would remove him from a tough case that had no glory and shift someone else into it. Bob Eberhart, on the other hand, was a decent guy who treated Maude and everyone else fairly and did his share of the workload. How he could put up with Fat Frieda puzzled her. Wheeler had earned his nickname early on from a patrol officer who saw Wheeler eating a large meal at lunch, and named him for his size and his first name, Alfred. The moniker had stuck, and even become one that some officers used when they spoke to him. The detective always blustered to the boss about it, but so far nothing had changed. He was still Fat Frieda to the boys in blue.
“So, boss,” she said to Patterson, “okay for me to run down to Bisbey, question the sister? I’d like to get an early start, get back home before too late. How about Joe going too?” In for a penny, in for a pound, she always heard. “Nothing going on but this case, and from the looks of the two donut eaters outside, they aren’t too busy to take care of anything might happen.”
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” Patterson said distractedly. “Just don’t dilly-dally. Get back as soon as you’re done.” He had to say it, even though Maude and Joe gave more time than they frittered away. No complaints about their work schedule. Joe Allen had proven himself to be a good detective, even though his beginning was a joke that went sour. The captain at the time had disliked Maude for his own reasons and had made her life difficult when he could. He ordered Patterson to give her the worst that came along, hoping she would quit. Finally, her partner before Joe left the department, and the captain thought it would be the end of Maude to saddle her with a rookie. She proved him wrong, though, and Joe had been a good addition to the section.
“You just never knew where the next blessing will come from,” Joe’s grandmother was fond of saying. She was right about the Rogers/Allen team. They were still there, and the previous captain had taken early retirement after the commissioner found out about some deals made under the table in the captain’s office.
Joe came in, beating the clock by a minute, and noticed there were donuts left on the table. “Hey,” he said, “can I have some of these?”
Eberhart nodded, but Fat Frieda looked sad for a minute, then nodded too. “Go ahead,” they said.
“Afternoon, Detective Allen. You decide to come to work for the last half of the day?” Maude asked, gathering up her gun and equipment for the road. “Would you like to take a drive to Bisbey, see the sights?”
“Sure,” he said, with a mouthful of powdered sugar. “Let’s go.” After grabbing another donut, Joe handed over his time sheet to the boss and headed to the door with Maude.
“Remember what I said. Get back here.” Patterson waved them out of the room, intent on the figures he was adding on paper.
“Yes, sir,” Maude answered. “We’ll do just that.”
The ride to Bisbey was pleasant, with Joe driving and Maude kicking back, enjoying the scenery. She glanced over at her partner, smiling to herself, looking at the young detective. Joe was a handsome man, his dark hair and green eyes sure attractions for the female population. He was aware of his appeal, and sometimes used it to make the job easier. He can certainly get more information out of women than I can, Maude thought. Getting back to the case at hand, she mulled over what they knew about Eve Devine, most of it what she had learned from the woman’s supervisor at the grocery store. Kurt Graham had worked for Wranglers Grocery for five years, two as a clerk, and the last three as the day shift supervisor.
Before they left town, Maude asked Joe to take a side trip to Wranglers Grocery, where they found Graham, a man of German descent who displayed the American flag in the corner of the store, visible to all his shoppers. Graham was in his fifties and had immigrated to America when he was ten years old, making the move with his grandparents after mother and father were killed in an explosion in the Dithmarschen District, an area famous for its cabbages. Kurt was adopted by his maternal grandfather, and grew to love the country that took him in. The grocery business seemed his rightful path, ‘because of the cabbages’, he liked to say. He had come from millions of pounds of the green, leafy vegetables.
Graham invited them into his office and pulled the record on Eve Devine, seeming saddened by the information they brought. The news hadn’t released her name, but Graham said he had a firm suspicion when his employee hadn’t returned to work since Friday and he heard about the woman killed by the train. He seemed truly upset.
“Mr. Graham, what can you tell me about Eve Devine? Her friends, likes, dislikes, anyone she talked about from home.”
“Yes, of course, but Eve was a very private lady. She talked of nothing much except her job. You need to speak to her friend Marta Ruiz. They talked often.”
“Would you ask her in, Miss Ruiz?” Joe had spoken up only once before. He looked at Maude, who nodded. Sometimes Joe was the better interviewer with women. They seemed to trust him.
The door opened, and Marta Ruiz entered the room, frightened because the police were there, and saddened over the death of her friend, Eve. Ruiz told Joe, “Eve and I didn’t pal around much, because Eve stayed home alone, with her doors locked. She was afraid of someone but never said who it was.”
Ruiz went on to say that she knew there was a sister in Bisbey, a youngish woman, about twenty-eight years old, who had muscular problems. The doctors said she was never going to heal but might get better with medical help and rehabilitation. Eve sent all her money to the rehab center to pay for her sister’s part, but Ruiz had never seen her. Just heard it from Eve Devine.
“Thank you, Miss Ruiz. You have been a great help. Can you give me the name of the sister?” Joe was at the top of his game, firing the questions to Marta Ruiz, but not seeming to hurry.
“Yes, it is Wanda May Wilson, or so Eve said. I remember because I thought the name sounded kind of…you know.”
“Redneck?” Joe asked. “Is that what you mean?”
&nb
sp; “Um, yes. I don’t want to sound uppity, but it seemed that way to me.”
“Anything else you can think of?” Joe asked.
“Well, I don’t know if it matters, but Eve went a little loco if I ever talked about where she worked before. She didn’t ever want to talk about it, so I never knew. But I think something went wrong at her other job. Something bad.”
At that point, Maude looked sharply toward Kurt Graham, but he shrugged and said he knew nothing about that. “Eve told me she had worked out of state in a refinery up near the Oklahoma border, but she was part-time and I could never check it out, couldn’t find anyone at the company who knew her.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Maude said quietly. “Sounds like Eve Devine had a past. Maybe it caught up with her. Miss Ruiz, did Eve ever talk about her son?”
“Her son? No, she had no children. That’s one thing I know for sure. She told me that she had never married because of taking care of her sister after the parents died. She said she never had children for the same reason.”
Graham shook his head and said the subject was not one he had ever discussed with Eve, but he maintained Eve had never mentioned a kid. When he reiterated his Friday night denial, Maude was inclined to believe she had been snookered. There was no boy whose mother was Eve Devine. There was, however, a cold-blooded killer on the loose, and he was on her list.
“Joe,” she said, “ready to go? I think we have everything for now.” She rose to leave, inwardly groaning from the pain in her hips, the arthritis affected by long spells of sitting. “We may have to come back to clarify some information as time goes on. I’ll try to call first,” she said to Kurt Graham.
“Fine, Detective Rogers. Any way I can help, just let me know.”
“I’ll do that, you can bet on it,” Maude said as she walked out the door.
Graham watched intently as the detective closed the door behind her, then picked up the phone and made a quick call. “Hello, are you there? She’s suspicious, doesn’t believe that’s all there is to it.” The phone died in his hand, the party on the other end disconnecting without saying anything. “But that’s how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?” Graham said to dead air. He leafed through the envelope of money and figured he’d take a short vacation, maybe see the coast.
Chapter 6
Maude’s city vehicle had a guidance unit built in, its maps a must on trips such as the one they made to Bisbey. For a small town, the population was scattered, in Maude’s words, “from hell to breakfast,” making it difficult to find businesses. The Bisbey Memorial Rehabilitation Center was medium sized, stuck back off the main road about five miles, surrounded by a new housing addition where an affluent neighborhood had grown up. Joe found the business and drove into the parking lot next to a 1959 Ford. His tongue was nearly hanging out over the vintage car, but to Maude, it was a has-been somewhat like herself, and not at all attractive. The door to the rehab center was unlocked, but visitors had to pass through the front patio with its several rocking chairs, small round table, and matching set of gliders before entering the building. The whole area was tree-shaded and quaint, somewhat like the Ford in the parking lot. They opened the double doors with squeaking hinges needing oil, and entered the musty-smelling building. Joe signed their names at the top of the visitor pad and stated that their business was to visit Wanda May Wilson.
The detectives showed their badges and were given quick access to the corridor where Eve’s sister lived. She had a semi-private room with another female, who was watching television when Maude and Joe walked in the door. They closed off the curtains and proceeded to introduce themselves to the woman in the bed. At first Wanda May was reluctant to listen, fearing bad news, and later, she cried hysterically when they told her about her sister. The chaplain was visiting the halls at that time and Maude offered to go get him for Wanda May, but she refused, spitting out words of dislike for the man and his religion. Maude was concerned for her, but hopeful they might ask her some questions before the day grew too late. She really wanted to get home on time and go to bed.
“Wanda May, I need to ask you some questions,” Maude said, and gave the woman a moment to prepare herself. “I know that’s the last thing you want to do right now, but we need anything that might help us find the murderer of your sister. Anything at all.”
“What do you want to know? I’m stuck in this bed and can’t get up, but I’ll help any way that I can to find the horrible person who hurt my sweet sister. What kind of maniac would harm her, detective? Eve was good and kind, never hurting anyone. Oh, I can’t imagine life without my big sister.” She was gone again, into a sobbing hysteria that Maude had seen too many times. God, she hated telling people the sad news of the loss of a loved one.
Patiently they waited for Wanda May’s composure to return. “Okay, detective, ask me what you need to know that might help you find the psycho who killed her.”
“Did Eve come to see you on Friday?”
“You mean the day she died? Why no. I haven’t seen her since two weeks ago.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Maude said. “Someone pretended to be her, all the way down to buying a ticket to Bisbey.”
“But why? Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. It’s a bizarre case. We know your sister told her supervisor she was coming to see you and never made the trip.”
“But why would she say that when she never had any intention of coming here? Eve wouldn’t surprise me; I have too many appointments. I might not have been here.”
Joe sat quietly, thinking of the conversation between the women, then he asked a question. “Wanda May, did Eve ever talk about any of her enemies? Or anyone she might have had difficulty with in the past?”
Wanda May got very quiet and looked away, not meeting Joe’s eyes. “No, not that I know of,” she said distantly. “At least, nothing I can be sure of.”
Wanda May was a thin woman; her body had deteriorated from spending too many years in a bed or confined to a chair. She had brown hair that hadn’t seen a full shampoo in a while, and her complexion was suffering from medications with side effects. Her saving feature was a pair of dark blue eyes under thick lashes that didn’t require mascara. The rest of her was unremarkable. She gave the impression that she lived in fear most of the time, and Maude could understand the reasons. Being dependent upon others for your survival took away self-confidence. Wanda May was a woman afraid to live.
“You see, Eve knew some people a few years back who helped her find a good job working as a hospital nurse,” she said hesitantly, after getting control. “Eve went to school and got the training, hoping she could help me as well. The problem was, she could only find work at one place, that hospital for the crazy people. She went to work there and stayed for about a year, then she quit one day and never went back. I asked her why she did it that way, but she wouldn’t tell me. At least, not for a long time. When she did talk about it, she kept looking over her shoulder, like someone was chasing her.
“She said they brought in this man who was in a coma, and he never opened his eyes or acted like he was even alive. Eve had always asked to work with the children in the building, but when that man got there, they put her to work on his floor, helping with his care. She got real scared because she saw something. It was about six months after he arrived. She was giving him injections because he couldn’t take pills, when he opened his eyes and looked at her. Just looked, not trying to say anything. Then he closed them again. But Eve got scared, because she told me he was pretending to be like that, but he was really conscious. She saw it when he opened his eyes. She knew he had done terrible things to women before he was locked up in the hospital, and her fright was because he knew she knew. She left there, and didn’t tell anyone where she was going. Just dropped out, went to Madison, and got a job in the big grocery store. Eve told me that it was okay, she just didn’t want to work in the hospital anymore, but I could see she was scared real bad.”
Maude had stood all the while, staring out the small window in Wanda May’s room, dreading to hear the story, but knowing she must. Outside a storm was brewing, and rain would be beating down on them on the trip back to Madison. Summer rain was usually nice, but not while you were traveling. Maude needed her third cigarette badly and wished for a bottle of cold gin, but neither was available at the time. Her worst fear had come alive: Robert Dawson was alert again and manipulating people to get what he wanted. She had known for some time that the halcyon days of his comatose condition was over. The day she went to the hospital with her lieutenant and saw Dawson’s doctor, she knew the man was hiding something, but couldn’t believe it would be so drastic. Robert Dawson, the Heartless Killer, was back in business.
“Did Eve ever have any contact from the hospital after she left work?” Maude asked, still with her back turned.
“No, I don’t think so. She said she had made one friend there but wasn’t going to tell her where she was. The last time I saw Eve, she seemed far away, her mind somewhere else. My sister was really afraid. That man must have scared her badly.”
“Do you remember the name of the friend at the hospital?” Maude continued absently, her mind on the monster.
“Yes, I believe so. Ellen Goodrich, I think. No, not Goodrich. Goodbody. She was a nurse there. Been there a long time, Eve said.”
“We appreciate your help, Wanda May. By the way,” Joe said, “if it isn’t too personal, what do the doctors say is wrong with you? Can you walk?”
“They don’t know. Some kind of muscle deterioration started when I was little. I used to be able to walk, but that was a long time ago. Now I get out in a wheelchair sometimes, but my hands and arms don’t work very well. Most of the time, I stay in bed or go to the pool for rehab. I keep hoping that someday I’ll get better.” Wanda May started crying again, sobbing against her pillow. “What will I do without Eve? You have to find the person that killed her. She deserves that.”
The Maude Rogers Murder Collection Page 57
