“I was getting ready to call you,” she told him.
“I have the results back on the burlap bag and nail the boys found in Andrea’s shed.”
“And?”
“The body belonged to Hank Johnson. He died from some sort of blunt force trauma. He had a skull fracture and a broken rib. And that nail that you found?”
“Yes?” Gloria sucked in a breath.
“It had pierced the back of his skull.”
Gloria walked over to the kitchen window and stared out. “That’s what killed him?”
“The medical examiner isn’t sure. The skeleton is old and it’s not like we have state-of-the-art equipment over here,” he admitted. “It’s possible that the nail didn’t kill him, although it certainly could have. Or it could’ve been the skull fracture. The guys down at the lab have different opinions. One thinks it was the nail and the other thinks it may have been a deadly fall.”
“What will happen to Doc Decker?” she asked.
“I’m running by his place here shortly,” Paul told her.
Gloria hung up the phone. She called Andrea first.
Andrea juggled the cell phone against her head as she let Brutus in through the front door. She followed him inside. “Wow! Can you believe that?”
Gloria hoped the death had been an accident. She remembered the journal. “Remember what Barbara Johnson… I mean, Sofia Masson wrote in the journal? It’s possible that his brother killed him during the heat of an argument and not knowing what to do, he called Doc Decker.”
“But why would Doc Decker keep silent about it?”
That was a very good question. A question that Gloria herself hoped to have answered soon.
Gloria spent the rest of the morning calling each of the girls and relaying the autopsy results. All of them agreed that it was possible that Abe had killed his brother but somewhere along the way, Doc Decker became involved.
Gloria picked up the picture of the mill and the men out front. She slipped on her glasses and studied the woman. The more she looked at it, the more she was convinced that the woman in the picture was not her mother.
She pulled the photo close and held it up to the light. Her mother was tall. Tall like Liz. The woman in the photo was short. Short, as in almost the same height at Martha Decker. Doc Decker’s wife.
The kitchen chair scraped the worn linoleum floor as Gloria slid it from under the table. She sank into the seat and leaned forward, tapping a fingernail on the kitchen table.
The nail in the skull. A construction nail. Gloria remembered hearing that when Doc Decker bought the drug store, he remodeled the back half so that he and Martha could live there.
She picked up the phone and called Paul. “I think Doc Decker was involved and here’s why.”
Paul hung up the phone. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. His first stop was Gloria’s farm to pick up the old picture. His second stop: Doc Decker’s house.
Gloria was in the garden watering what was left of her plants when Paul pulled in the drive. She was so engrossed in making sure Mally wasn’t tromping over the top of the tomatoes she didn’t hear him sneak up behind her. She jumped when he reached around and hugged her tight. “Oh! I didn’t hear you coming!”
She shut the hose off and hung it on the hook nearby. “C’mon Mally.” Paul and Mally followed Gloria up the steps and into the house. Gloria had left the photo sitting on the edge of the table.
Paul picked it up and studied the faces. He pointed to the woman on the end. “You think this is Doc’s wife, Martha?”
Gloria nodded. “Doc tried to tell me it was my own mother.” She wrinkled her brow. “I think he was trying to throw me off.”
She followed Paul out onto the porch. “You’re going there now to talk to him?”
Paul nodded.
Gloria’s eyes fell on the photo. “Are you going to arrest him?”
Paul shrugged. The evidence was inconclusive. In fact, the report came back stating it was inconclusive. He would wait to see what Doc Decker had to say.
Gloria said a small prayer for Doc as she climbed the porch steps and headed back inside. The man had to be in his 80’s or 90’s by now. He’d never survive prison.
Chapter 17
Paul eased into the paved drive and parked to the left of the two-story home. The first thing he noticed was that there was no car in sight. The second thing he noticed was the morning newspaper, still in the drive.
He stepped up onto the porch and rang the bell. He could hear shuffling inside, just moments before the door opened wide enough for a woman’s face to peer out around the edge. “Can I help you?” Her eyes traveled from his face down to his police uniform before coming to rest on his nametag.
“Officer Paul Kennedy. I’m here to have a word with Henry Decker,” he told her. She swung the door open and stepped aside. “He’s in the kitchen. Follow me.”
Paul followed the tiny woman through the living room and into the kitchen. Henry “Doc” Decker was at the kitchen table. Judging by the expression on his face, he was expecting the visit.
He rose from his chair and extended his hand. A small smile turned the corner of his lips. “I finally get to me the infamous Officer Paul Kennedy,” he said wryly.
Paul took his hand. The hand was old and worn, but the grip was firm and steady. Their eyes met and Paul knew Doc Decker was ready to talk. He waved to a nearby chair. “Have a seat,” he told Paul.
Paul eased into the chair and rested his hands on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry to come unannounced. I was hoping you would have a few minutes to answer some questions.”
Doc Decker nodded. “About Hank Johnson.”
“And the night of his disappearance,” Paul finished his sentence. He set the photo Gloria had given him on the kitchen table and slid it in his direction. “Have you ever seen this picture before?”
Doc picked up the picture and brought it close to his face. He slowly nodded. “I have.”
Paul pointed to the woman in the photo. “Do you recognize the woman on the end?”
Doc paused. His eyes wandered to his wife, who was standing in the corner of the kitchen. His eyes never left hers. He slowly nodded. “Yes. That’s my wife, Martha.”
Paul leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he studied Doc Decker’s face. “Tell me about the night Hank Johnson disappeared.”
Doc rubbed his chin. He took a deep breath and started to speak. “I remember that night like it was yesterday…”
Henry Decker nailed the framing board in place. He wiped his forehead with the front of his arm. The back door of what would soon be his home was wide open. It was late summer and the air was hot and humid. Even the slightest of breezes would be a welcome relief.
It was late Friday afternoon. Henry, or “Doc” as everyone called him, had worked all day in the pharmacy. Business was good. Even folks from neighboring towns like Lakeville and Fenway were coming in to shop and pick up their prescriptions. The drug store was part pharmacy and part store. The front part even had an ice cream shop, complete with an old-fashioned soda fountain.
He glanced around. The back of the place was shaping up quite nicely. It wasn’t large, but he and Martha were just starting out so they didn’t need much. The room boasted a small eat-in kitchen with a living room off to the side. Tucked back in the corner on the other side of the space was a bedroom and small bath.
Doc’s father had been a carpenter by trade and had taught Doc everything he knew. He nodded, satisfied with the progress. Yes, things were coming right along, he decided.
Doc picked up his hammer and reached for a nail inside his apron when heard a small commotion coming from beyond the kitchen. He turned to see Martha shuffle through the front of the building. He noticed the red splotches on her face and could tell she’d been crying. He dropped the hammer. “What’s wrong?”
“That Hank. He came back from lunch and I could tell right away he’d been drinking. He got into a fight with
Matt Whittaker, right there on the office floor.”
Doc took off his work apron. He pulled Martha into his arms. “You need to quit that place today. If Abe can’t get rid of that scum, then you don’t need to work there,” he told her. “Plus, I can use you here at the drug store. Business is really picking up.”
Martha nodded. Her shoulders sagged. She wanted nothing more than to quit that job!
Martha pushed back a stray hair and looked into Doc’s determined eyes. “We can make ends meet, even without that job,” she vowed.
Martha changed out of her good clothes and got to work, helping Doc on a few small projects around the house before they stopped for dinner. Martha had made homemade beef stew the night before and they finished eating the leftovers.
They had just finished dinner and Martha started to clear the table when they both heard a loud thumping noise. It was coming from the front of the store.
Martha eyed the front warily as Doc hustled through the door that connected their apartment to the pharmacy out front. It was dusk now, but he could still see clear as a bell through the front store window. Out front on the sidewalk were two men and they were shoving each other.
His expression grew grim when he realized one of the men was Hank Johnson. Doc didn’t recognize the other person.
He unlocked the front door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Boys, if you don’t settle down, I’ll have to call the police,” he warned them.
“I’m gonna bust your chops!” Hank lunged forward.
The stranger took a swipe at Hank before he spun around and stalked off down the sidewalk.
Doc grabbed Hank’s arm and pulled him in the front door of the drug store. He could smell the whiskey on his breath.
Doc talked in a low, soothing voice, which only seemed to agitate Hank. Martha came from the back to check on Doc.
When Hank caught a glimpse of Martha, he yanked his arm from Doc’s grasp and staggered forward. “Well, if it isn’t the breathtaking Martha Decker. You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Doc tried to pull him back, which enraged Hank.
Hank suddenly swung back around, his arm raised. His fist connected with Doc’s face. Doc staggered under the blow. He grabbed his jaw, his eyes on fire.
Doc barreled forward and tackled Hank to the floor.
Hank was taller and thicker than Doc was.
Martha could see Hank was starting to gain the upper hand. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, searching for some sort of weapon. She darted into the back of the building and grabbed a 2x4 off the floor.
By the time she ran back into the front, the two men were rolling around on the ground.
Martha closely followed their movements. When she saw her chance, she lifted the board high above her head and brought it down on Hank’s skull with as much force as she could muster. The board connected with his head. WHACK!
The board splintered when it made contact with the back of Hank Johnson’s head. He pulled away from Doc, stunned. He stuck his hand on the back of his head. Martha glanced at the board and then the back of Hank’s head. There was a nail lodged in his skull. She could see it through the thin crop of hair.
“You’re trying to kill me!” Hank shouted.
Martha stood there trembling as she stared down at the broken board. Her eyes, filled with terror, met Doc’s.
By the time Doc scrambled to his feet, Hank had stumbled out the front door. He disappeared down the sidewalk and into the night.
Doc rushed over to Martha, who was still gripping the splintered piece of the wood. “I hit him,” she whispered.
“He deserved it,” Doc replied.
Martha’s shoulders shuddered. She dropped the board and stuck her hands over her face. She began to sob hysterically. Doc tried desperately to calm his young wife. Finally, when she’d calmed enough and the sobs had subsided, Doc grabbed his jacket. “I’m going to Abe’s house right now,” he told her. “He needs to hear our side of the story.”
Martha grabbed his harm. “Don’t go over there, Doc,” she begged. “Something bad is going to happen.”
Doc squeezed her hand. “I have to, Martha.” Martha watched as Doc slid his jacket on and grabbed his keys.
He climbed into his old truck and pull out of the alley as he headed to the mansion on the hill.
Doc pulled his pick-up truck into the Johnsons drive and parked behind Abe Johnson’s four-door sedan. The stately home was lit up like a Christmas tree.
For a moment, Doc almost changed his mind. He nearly backed out of the drive and headed back home. But he knew he needed to talk to Abe. To explain.
Abe would understand. He knew how his brother was.
Before he could change his mind, Doc slid out of the truck and made his way to the front door. He rapped on the metal knocker and waited. Seconds later, Abe Johnson opened the door.
The first thing Doc noticed was the wild look in the man’s eyes. The second thing he noticed was that he was breathing heavily.
Abe didn’t say a word. He motioned Doc inside and closed the door behind him.
Doc’s eyes scanned the room before settling on a body lying on the gleaming marble floor. It was Hank Johnson and he wasn’t moving.
Abe took a step closer and shook his head. “I think he’s dead.”
Doc sidestepped Abe and made his way over to Hank. He kneeled over the still figure and stuck two fingers on Hank’s neck. Abe was right. Hank was dead.
Abe shuffled over to Doc’s side. “We got into an argument. I punched him and he fell to the floor. He hit his head.”
From the position of the body, Doc could clearly see the nail still in the back of Hank’s skull.
“I didn’t think I’d hit him that hard,” Abe said.
Doc nodded. Maybe he died from the nail in his skull. Or maybe from hitting the marble floor with force. Either way, Hank Johnson was dead. Doc looked up at Abe. “What should we do?”
Abe glanced at the stairs. “Barbara locked herself in the bedroom when we started to fight.” He looked back at Doc. “There’s only one thing we can do. We get rid of the body,” he replied.
Doc Decker finished the last sentence and looked over at Paul. “So we buried the body in the shed and hid his belongings in a locked closet in the basement.”
Doc continued. “When that young woman bought the old place and started fixing it up, I worried that the body would be discovered and it would open up a whole can of worms. When I drove by the place one day and saw the dumpster, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to get rid of Hank’s body.”
Martha Decker spoke for the first time. “I was trying to help Doc,” she explained. “I didn’t mean to kill him,” she whispered.
Paul nodded. “The autopsy was inconclusive. It appeared to be head trauma. Whether it was the nail that pierced his skull or the fracture from the fall, we will never know.”
Martha Decker stepped over to the table. She squeezed her husband’s shoulder. “Now what?”
Paul drummed his fingers on the kitchen tabletop. This was a bit of a conundrum. At the very least, Doc Decker was an accessory to the murder. At most, Martha Decker had killed Hank Johnson.
“I have to turn in the evidence.” Paul stood. “If I had to guess, I would say given the length of time since the crime was committed and other information, there’s a good chance you won’t be charged.”
Martha let out the breath she’d been holding.
“However, I can’t guarantee that,” Paul warned.
Doc nodded and rose to his feet. “We can always pray for the best,” he said.
Chapter 18
After lunch, Gloria settled in to watch an episode of Detective on the Side. She had recorded it the night before while she and the girls were on the stakeout.
She was nice and comfy in her recliner and was just about to doze off when the phone rang. It was Andrea. “We’re here!”
Gloria pulled the recliner upright. “I’ll be right down, dear.”
Gloria s
lipped into her sweater, grabbed her keys and headed to the car.
When Gloria pulled into the drive, she could see the top of Andrea’s head. She was out in the gardens. On her way to the garden, Gloria passed the sunroom. The construction crew was gone and the sunroom complete. She cupped her hands over her eyes and peeked in the windows. It was beautiful!
Gloria followed the murmured voices over to the fountain out back. She could see more of Andrea’s head now. It looked like she was talking to herself.
When Gloria rounded the side, she realized why. There, standing next to Andrea, was a short little woman. She was as big around as she was tall. Her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her hands were gesturing wildly as she spoke.
When Andrea spied Gloria, she waved her over. The little woman spun around, a wide grin covering her face. Her brown eyes were warm. The corners crinkled up. She grabbed Gloria’s hand.
“Ahh..Miss Gloria,” she spoke in a heavy accent. “I finally meet you!”
Gloria took an immediate liking to the woman. She prided herself on being a good judge of character and this woman was the real deal!
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Alice,” Gloria told her sincerely.
She nodded. “Yes! You call me Alice.” Alice winked at Andrea. “My real name is Anna, but Andrea - she always call me Alice,” she told her.
Andrea smiled brightly. “I almost forgot your real name is Anna.” She turned to Gloria. “When I was little, I loved the TV show, The Brady Bunch. Do you remember them?”
Gloria nodded. Her kids had loved that show. She had loved that show.
Andrea went on. “Well, I always wanted a big family and I loved Alice, the housekeeper, so I started calling Anna – Alice.”
Anna – uh, Alice - smiled. “She was lonely growing up. Her parents. They work many hours.”
Alice beamed at Andrea with pride. “She a good girl. No?”
“Yes. Andrea is a very good girl,” Gloria assured her.
Hope Callaghan - Garden Girls 06 - Magnolia Mansion Mysteries Page 14
