The Maude Rogers Murder Collection

by Linda L. Dunlap

She lay upon the chaise as early morning sunlight filtered through the border of trees on the east side of the house and sent its rays through the thin window screens. Rising early was a pleasure for Anna; she liked the feel of air freshly cleaned by night’s coolness. Her life was orderly, with no room for clutter or anything soiled. Thinking of just how much of her time was spent in the open breezeway of the house brought a smile to her full lips. What Wallace didn’t know made everything simpler. Remembering the last time she had a visitor lying upon the same chintz-covered lounge made her smile broaden into a laugh of delight. Let’s see, that was five, no, seven days ago, she thought.

  “What’s funny?” Wallace asked, curious at her outburst.

  “Oh, the silly questions the detective had for me, they were really quite comical at times. A mix-up. That old lady detective thought I said I worked at the shop with you, and she sent her good-looking young helper to find out what days I was there. He wanted to know if I was working the day your helper was killed.”

  “How good looking is he?” Her husband was reading the newspaper and glanced her way.

  “Quite handsome,” she said, “dark hair and green eyes. No more, please; the subject is tiresome.”

  “If you say so,” Wallace remarked, returning to his paper. “Perhaps I should have a word with their supervisor. If they annoy you again, I will definitely put a stop to it.”

  “Thank you, darling,” she said, the smile now hidden. Remembering Ronald’s excited groans and grunts stirred her body’s response. He had been a passionate lover. “I’m going to miss him,” she whispered to herself.

  “Say something, love?” Wallace asked.

  “No, nothing. Just enjoying the lovely morning.” Anna closed her eyes and slept, her breath a purr of contentment.

  Chapter 13

  Maude reconsidered the relationship between the deceased Marlin Thompson and Ann Avery, looking for angles. She thought about bouncing a few facts and suppositions off Joe after he had slept, wondering if he was still convinced the young woman was hiding something.

  “Joe, about this woman, how do you think she figures into the murder?”

  He took more than a minute thinking then offered up, “Can’t say yet. Maybe jealousy or revenge. He might have been coming on to her.”

  “She’s a pretty young woman; no doubt any man would be attracted to her.” She glanced away at some construction on the highway. “There is a possibility she knew him before. Maybe he threatened to tell on her.”

  “Possible,” Joe said, thinking. “When did he get out of prison?”

  “Let’s see,” she said, looking in her book. “Records show he was released in January of this year.”

  “So…eight months or so.” Joe nodded. “If he went to work at the pawnshop four months ago, wonder where he spent the first four months after he got out?”

  “Maybe in Waco, where he was released for good behavior. His parents live south of there.” Maude thought about that for a minute.

  “A retirement home for old people?” Joe asked. “That what we’re doing, scouting out your next residence?” He got a stare for his trouble, just enough to keep the smirk planted on his lips.

  “Yeah, and no. I’m going to retire and move in with the last partner I work with,” she said. “Anyway, the parents aren’t that old.”

  Joe chuckled. He liked getting a rise out of Maude. “Seriously, aren’t we looking at Anna today?”

  “Well, you see, that’s the thing. Her last known relative lives near Waco also. A little too coincidental, don’t you think?”

  Joe cocked his head and nodded. “A little too.”

  “Marlin Thompson, a.k.a. Ronald Marshall, was married before he went to prison. His wife divorced him. Anna Avery used to be Anna Marshall. That’s how an ex-con got the job in a pawnshop: she forged his papers and convinced her husband to hire him.”

  “Why didn’t we just ask Avery about hiring Thompson?”

  “I did,” Maude countered. “He told me an employment agency sent Thompson over. Said he had good references, passed the examination, and got his license.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie about that? Unless Anna set it all up just so her ex found work near her. Still, that doesn’t wash either. She’s not the kind of woman who wants last year’s model unless there’s a good reason.”

  “A darn good reason,” Maude agreed. “I suspect she lives by the saying keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

  “Where to first?” Joe asked, passing the city limit sign for Hewitt, Texas, population 1,351. The town was small, good for lying low for four months.

  “The address for the parents is 330 Rural Route 3, a little north of Hewitt. I guess it isn’t a retirement center. Let’s hope we can get some answers to our questions.”

  As always when entering a city on police business, Maude made contact with law enforcement agencies. It was good politics to meet and greet the people you might need to depend upon. The dispatcher was the only one on duty at the station. She said everybody else was out, but she could radio the chief. The town was progressive, with two Starbucks near the freeway. Chief Tom Bradley agreed to meet them at the one nearest the station. They arrived first and waited, sipping the hot, strong coffee at a table. The barista behind the counter had smiled and worked quickly, eying Joe all the while.

  Chief Bradley was a graying man in his forties, lean as a pencil, and sharp too. He acknowledged their presence in town, and directed them toward the Marshalls’ address. Said they had lived there for a few years and he remembered when their boy went to prison over the incident.

  “The folks insist it was an accident, but the young man was found guilty of assault.” Bradley seemed sad about the murder, but it wasn’t news to him; he’d been the one who told the parents about it.

  “Chief, did you know Ronald Marshall’s wife?” Maude asked, admiring the taste of the brew before her. It reminded her of those little cups that came in boxes.

  “No, I never met her, but I understand she dropped him flat when he went to prison. The Marshalls were somewhat bitter against her for a while.”

  “They changed their minds?” Joe asked.

  “Well, after Ronald got out, he came here and stayed, then next thing you know, he was gone. They said he got a job in Madison, said she helped him. Damndest thing. Just about the time things worked out, and those folks got on with their lives, somebody killed their son. That’s just too wrong. I hope you catch whoever it was.”

  “Thank you, chief. We hope so too. We’d better get on over and see them before it gets any later. Should we call first?” she asked.

  “Probably not necessary. They’re home folks. Reason I know them well, they’re friends of my sister. We’ve come in contact a few times.”

  Goodbyes said and coffee finished, the detectives headed northeast, toward Route Three. The road’s name had been changed to Mercer Street by emergency services, but most people, according to Chief Bradley, still called it Route Three. Two miles down the narrow pavement, they drove into the yard of 330. A red pickup was in the carport of the small orange brick house, and in front of it, protected by the overhang, sat a Mustang of sixties vintage. Joe slavered over the dark green paint job, wishing he could see inside the car.

  “Can I help you folks?” The polite voice came from behind the screened door. Maude had no doubt a double-barrel shotgun stood near the speaker. She would expect it from a man whose son had been recently murdered.

  Joe nodded at Maude and she stepped forward, taking the lead with the older man.

  “I’m Maude Rogers, Mr. Marshall, and this is my partner Joe Allen. We’re homicide detectives from Madison. We’ve come this distance to speak to you about your son.”

  “My son is dead, detective. I don’t know what I can do to help.”

  “We know, sir. I’m sorry for your loss. May we come in?” She was filled with sympathy for the man, but dreaded meeting his wife. Jeez, I hate talking to moth
ers about their dead sons. Something about that connection makes it harder for women. Maude’s memory tried to pull her from the present, but she held on, refusing to backtrack to the time she’d lost her own son, before he could be born.

  “Yes, come in, detectives, pardon my manners. Elizabeth would scold me for keeping a lady outside on the steps.”

  Maude immediately liked the gentlemanly charm of Edwin Marshall. Two padded straight-back chairs sat in a half-circle, along with a recliner and small wicker love seat. A gray-haired woman with stooped shoulders sat there, her small frame taking only a small section of the love seat. She was staring straight ahead at the television screen, where Lucille Ball, in black and white, played to canned laughter. Maude spoke to the woman politely, but received no indication she was heard.

  “Elizabeth isn’t here most of the time since our boy died. Doctor says, ‘Be patient, emotional wounds take time to heal.’” Edwin seemed sad, resigned to loss. “What would you like to know, detectives?”

  Joe began: “Mr. Marshall, We understand your son stayed with you after he was released from custody. Did he seem frightened, as if he was hiding from anyone who wanted to harm him?”

  The man seemed grateful for the opportunity to talk. “Yes, he was here for a while. Ronald, or Ronny, as we always called him, was a good boy growing up. He liked fixing things, even when he was little. Break his toys; he’d have them torn apart, seeing what was wrong. High school, he got involved in student council, hoping he could fix some problems in the school. He was elected their president, over and over. We lived in Marlin then, east of Waco. Ronny finished school there, and got involved with some activist group looking for better wages at the chemical plants. He really liked doing that. Some of his people were starting up in Detroit, thinking they’d boycott the car industry. They…convinced him to go. You know the rest. Ronny was a good boy, a good son.” Toward the end, Edwin’s voice broke, but he quickly controlled his emotions.

  “What about his wife, Mr. Marshall?” Maude asked. “We know he was married then. Did he see her after he came back?”

  The man’s expression changed, becoming harsh. “She was nothing but bad. Ronny met her in Marlin, fell for her. Pretty girl, she wanted him, though I don’t know why. She left him when he was arrested. Said she didn’t need no ‘jailbird husband. So no, she never came here.’”

  “You say she was bad. Can you explain what you mean?” Joe thought he knew, but needed to hear it from the man.

  “Something in that girl is rotten. Always wanted the best, even the wedding she demanded. Her parents put themselves in deep debt to make her happy, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t to her liking. Ronny was disturbed over her behavior, but he was in love, couldn’t see the selfishness in her, at least not till later, when they moved to Detroit. He told us she wanted him to get money, no matter how he had to do it.”

  “How long did he stay with you and your wife before moving to Madison?” Joe asked.

  “Well, you see, we moved here after he graduated. Got a good deal on the place. Elizabeth had been in school here and had friends. When Ronny came to us, he stayed in the spare room, kept to himself, didn’t have any friends. After a couple of months, he found a job at a mechanic shop, fixing lawn mowers, but he wasn’t happy. We could tell. He wanted that woman back. Mentioned her name a few times, wondering about her. Said she had remarried. ‘Thank God’ is what I said, of course, not where he could hear me. Wasn’t long before he was going out, meeting people, starting a new life. Then she called him, said she wanted to see him, catch up on old times. Next thing you know, she got him a job in Madison. He said it was in a pawnshop. Said she fixed things where he could work there. ‘Lots of money to be made,’ that’s what she told him. He left, and we never saw him alive again. That was over four months ago.”

  “Did you talk to him much after that?” Maude asked, eying Elizabeth, observing her trance.

  “Yes, my Ronny called home every Sunday. He was a good boy.” The woman seemed to come awake from a deep sleep. Her face animated, she kept talking about her son. “Mother’s Day he sent me red roses. My, wasn’t that a nice thing to do?”

  “Mrs. Marshall, what do you think of Anna?” Maude hoped the woman knew something about her ex-daughter-in-law that would be helpful.

  “Don’t care much for her. Never did. She was older than my Ronny. But he was always a good son. Always loved his mother. Just ask him, he’ll tell you. Ronny, Ronny,”

  she suddenly yelled, “come out and meet these folks.”

  Edwin stood and went to his wife, shushing her. He looked over at the detectives and shrugged. “Sorry, you’ll have to let yourself out.” Elizabeth had begun screaming hysterically to her dead son, demanding that he come into the living room.

  “Thank you,” Maude said, rising from the chair, motioning to Joe that they should leave. “We appreciate your help.”

  They drove for a few minutes, and Maude checked the guidance system for Marlin, Texas, thirty-five minutes away. “How about we have lunch and go see Anna’s parents—the last I checked, they still live in Marlin. Makes us a little later getting home. If you get tired of driving, let me know.”

  Joe glanced over, smiled, and nodded. “I will do that, ma’am. I will do that.”

  “Tough scene back there. I hope she gets better.” Maude stared out the window, sorry she hadn’t taken time for her second cigarette of the day. Nicotine helped calm the animal.

  “Yeah, hell of a note. The old man loses both of them. You get anything out of all that?”

  “Confirmation. Anna is up to her neck in the murder. What a piece of work she is. Wake me when we get there.”

  Driving was soothing to Joe, always had been. He could think clearly when navigating open roads. Like then, the memory of Anna Avery came back, her actions, her words. He was even more convinced she’d done it. Whatever her reason, she’d killed her ex-husband. It was up to him and Maude to prove it. Joe hated admitting the attraction he had felt for the woman. She was beautiful—sexy beyond belief. He could see why Ronald Marshall was so enthralled. The difference was, he saw the trouble in her, and Marshall hadn’t. Getting out of her office that day, he’d felt relief to be gone, an unfamiliar emotion when it came to leaving gorgeous women. Even after Sheila’s drunken behavior, he’d had only disgust. But Anna was different. She carried violence within her as some carry pain. Always there, ready to take hold at any time. That was what he’d seen.

  Maude awoke from her nap as they drove into the city limits of the small town. Joe said he had enjoyed the drive, but she could see he was getting tired by the way his shoulders drooped.

  “What’s for lunch?” she asked. “It’s on the city.”

  “In that case, how about some real food if there’s an eatery here. Maybe a chicken-fried steak?”

  “Sounds good to me. Let’s drive around the square. Maybe there’s a good place downtown. Hey look, there’s a place called The Sisters, across the street. I’ll bet they’ll have what we’re looking for.”

  Joe parked the car and they walked to the restaurant, happy to be out of the car. They were seated at a table and ordered from a menu, taking time to appreciate small-town business. After a really good meal, the two detectives ambled back to the car as Maude lit her allowable cigarette. She had long since stopped smoking in the city car, a fact Joe was happy about.

  “Got the address?” he asked. “I’ll program it into the guidance system while you’re smoking. By the way, did I tell you how good you look today? Don’t know what you did, but you look healthier.”

  “Men,” she said. “Healthier? Women don’t want to look healthy. They want to look good.”

  Joe’s eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Sorry, you look good too.”

  “Thanks, it’s the haircut and a little color. A friend of mine used to say, ‘Any old barn looks better with a little paint on it.’ I guess she was right.”

  Driving away from downtown, they found the house where Casp
er and Mary Singleton lived, pulled into the drive, and got out, headed for the house. A huge German shepherd barked through a chain-link fence dividing the yard from the street. The Beware of Dog sign posted nearby was given credence by the deep chuff from the animal. Maude had always had a healthy respect for large animals with sharp teeth, but she didn’t let them keep her from the job. A quick knock on the door then silence as she waited for someone to come forward and greet them. Another knock and a woman of uncertain age, wearing a white apron tied in the back over a pink-flowered housedress, opened the door. A small chain stayed in place across the opening.

  “Mrs. Singleton? I’m Maude Rogers, Homicide, of Madison, and this is my partner, Joe Allen. We’d like to ask you some questions. We’re investigating the murder of Ronald Marshall.”

  Joe stepped forward and held out his hand, prepared to introduce himself. The woman stepped back as if frightened. He withdrew his hand from the door opening and nodded to Maude that maybe she should talk.

  “What do you want to know?” the woman asked.

  “Can we come in and talk?” Maude smiled, showing her badge at the same time. She realized the woman wasn’t accustomed to police officers at her door.

  “I guess it’s all right. Come in, officers,” she said, removing the security chain.

  “Are you Mary Singleton?”

  “No, I’m Mary’s sister, Gloria Adams. She’s out right now. I live here with her since Casper died last year.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry for your loss,” Maude said. “Will Mary be back soon?”

  “Yes, she’ll be back in a few minutes. Just a short trip to the grocery store. Sit down, please. Where are my manners?” Gloria added, directing them toward the chairs in a small living area.

  “Gloria, what can you tell me about Anna, your niece?”

  “You’ll have to wait until Mary comes home. She knows all about Anna.” Mary sat down for a moment then turned toward Maude. “Would you like some coffee?”

  Figuring it as a way to break the ice with the frightened woman, Maude said, “Yes, I would like a cup,” then followed as Gloria limped her way into the kitchen.