by Tim Myers
“No, I mean nothing was there. He had a bed, a kitchen table, and two chairs. That was about it.”
“Did you ever ask him about it?”
She stared at the fountain a minute, then said, “He claimed he spent so much time on the road it didn’t make any sense to have a nice place, but I got the feeling he was hiding something.”
That might be worth looking into. Was it possible that Jerry had rented the place he’d taken Louisa as a dodge? Was he hiding something from her, like maybe a wife somewhere else on his route? Molly would know, but I didn’t have a clue how I could ask her. I said, “Is there anything else you can think of that might help?”
“I know he liked to hang out at Dying to Read—we went there a few times together—but that’s about it. Jerry didn’t like to eat out, and I ended up cooking for him in his apartment most of the times we went out. He really had me going. I’m sorry, Ben.”
Jerry Sanger sounded like a real prince all the way around. At least Louisa had told me one thing that I could follow up on myself. Dying to Read was a mystery bookstore that had recently opened in Harper’s Landing. In the six months since they’d been in business, I’d visited the shop three or four times. I’ve got a weakness for mysteries, but I’d never run into Jerry Sanger there. I was sure Molly had his apartment covered—what little there was to see there, anyway. That left the bookstore for me.
“Listen,” I said as I stood. “I’ll do what I can, but don’t let this get you down if you can help it. Louisa, we both know you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Nothing criminal, anyway. I should have used better judgment choosing my dates. Next time I’m going to listen to Kate.”
I knew Louisa was feeling low if she was willing to admit that. “Hey, nobody’s going to arrest you for being human. Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ll manage. Where are you off to?”
“I’m going to go look for a good book,” I said, hoping I could turn up some kind of clue at the mystery bookstore about what had really happened to Jerry Sanger on the steps of my shop.
Chapter 4
It was wonderful having a small, independent mystery bookstore like Dying to Read in our town. As I walked inside the cozy space, I could smell the coffee even before I could shut the thick oak door behind me. I surveyed the overstuffed couches spread amongst the wooden cherry shelves as soft music played in the background. Embedded in the hardwood floor mosaic at the entrance was the outline of a body, done in dark red mahogany inlaid in a field of white oak planking.
“Hi, welcome back,” the clerk said, a college-aged young man with a full beard and jet-black hair pulled back into a ponytail. His badge said his name was Rufus, and it sported vivid drops of what I was certain were meant to be red blood below his name. The IDs were new, and catching to the eye.
“Thanks,” I said as I looked around the crowded room.
The place was doing very well for itself, if the attendance at the moment was any indication.
“Something I can help you with?” he asked.
As I approached his position behind the cash register, I said, “I’m looking for the manager or the owner.”
He smiled. “They’re both the same lady. Hang on a second.” He picked up the phone and said, “Diana, there’s someone up front to see you.”
He put the phone down and said, “She’ll be out in a second.”
I moved away from the desk as Rufus waited on a few customers. I looked over the display table where that month’s best sellers were stacked and glanced at some of the covers. I was studying the crazy image of a lighthouse in the middle of a mountain range when someone said, “Excuse me, but were you looking for me?”
The owner was a tall, solid woman, matching my six-foot height exactly. Her long brown hair was pulled away from her face, and she appeared to be somewhere in her early thirties. She had big brown eyes, just like a deer’s, and one of the noblest noses I’d ever seen on a man or a woman.
I offered my hand, and she took it in her steady grip for a moment before releasing it. “Hi, my name’s Ben Perkins. I need to ask you about one of your customers.”
“I’m Diana. May I ask what this is about?”
Here we go again, I thought to myself. I took a deep breath, then said, “A man named Jerry Sanger was murdered today, and my sister is one of the police’s main suspects. I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me prove she didn’t do it.” I still didn’t like the way it sounded—announcing Sanger’s demise like that—and I’d echoed the words enough lately to last me a lifetime.
She touched my arm as she lowered her voice in a conspiratorial fashion. “Why don’t we go back to my office? We’ll have some privacy there.”
I followed her through a door marked staff only and found a tight office jammed with enough paperwork and books to drive me crazy if I had to face it every day.
Diana said apologetically, “Excuse the mess.” Then a smile appeared briefly. “I don’t know why I always say that; this place is constantly a wreck. It’s an occupational hazard. Believe it or not, I can lay my hands on just about anything I need to with things organized this way.”
As she moved a stack of books from her visitor’s chair, I said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t know where else to look.”
“Honestly, it’s no trouble at all.” As I sat down, she said, “You know, I’d almost forgotten the color of the material on this chair. There, that’s better. We can talk in here. Now what’s this about a murder?”
“First off, I want you to know that you’re not under any kind of obligation or anything to talk to me, but I honestly could use your help.”
Diana said, “I’ll do what I can, believe me. Ben, I wouldn’t have opened a mystery bookstore if I didn’t enjoy my share of amateur sleuthing.”
“Diana, with all respect, this is real life. I found the body myself, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.”
She nodded. “Of course, you’re right. It’s just sometimes you get so inured to bodies in my line of work, when it really happens, it loses some of its edge. Do you have a picture of this Sanger? His name doesn’t ring any bells.”
I’d gotten the only photo Louisa had of Jerry. She had squirmed a little as I’d folded it in half lengthwise, but I wasn’t about to parade a photograph of my sister across town beside a dead man if I could help it. I’d wanted to cut her out of the shot completely, but she’d thrown such a fit I’d decided to just fold it instead. It was a shot of the two of them taken candidly outside. I recognized my sister Cindy’s ambush style of picture taking without needing confirmation. Louisa had told me that Jerry had been camera shy, and that she’d asked Cindy to snap something when he wasn’t looking. I had to admit, given the reluctance of the subject, she’d done a good job in capturing him.
Diana studied the photo, then nodded. “I feel sorry for your sister if she was seeing him.”
“Why’s that?” I asked as I retrieved the snapshot.
“He hit on anything in a skirt here. I’m not sure why he chose this place—maybe he liked mysteries a little—but he was here more for my female clientele than anything in print. What happened to him?”
“My guess is that he died from a broken neck, and then someone gave him a bath in lye,” I said.
“It sounds like something a jealous woman would do.” She shivered. “And you found him. How terrible that must have been for you.”
“Let’s just say it’s not something I’ll forget any time soon. Was there anybody in particular he talked to while he was here?”
She shook her head. “Not that I could tell, but then again, I spend more time buried back here than I do in front waiting on customers. Why don’t we ask Rufus?”
I followed her out of her office and we approached the front desk. Rufus was doing a crossword puzzle now that his line was gone, and he didn’t look the least bit embarrassed at being caught goofing off on the job. Diana told me, “Show him the photo, Ben.”
I did so, refolding the edge so most of Louisa’s face was obscured. Rufus said, “Yeah, I know him. That’s the shark.”
“The shark?”
Rufus just shrugged. “That’s my little nickname for him. He moved in for the kill faster than anybody I’ve ever seen before. It was like the dude was trying to prove he could do it, you know what I mean?”
Diana asked, “Was there anyone in particular he liked to talk with?”
Rufus was suddenly curious about our interrogation. “Why, what’s he done?”
“He was murdered,” Diana said simply. At least I hadn’t been the one who had to break the news this time.
“Cool,” Rufus replied, then looked sheepish about his response. “Sorry, I just never met anyone before who was murdered. What happened to him, did a jealous husband off him?”
Diana said, “We’ll talk about the details later. Think, Rufus. Did you see him with anyone in particular?”
Rufus shook his head. “Nope, not that I can remember.”
“Come on,” Diana said, “this is important.”
“There was one woman,” Rufus finally admitted. “He wasn’t at all happy to see her here, and they had quite a row.”
“Do you know her name?” I asked.
Rufus shrugged, then idly opened the photograph and stared at Louisa. “You’ve got a picture of her right there. They were arguing in the hard-boiled section last week. I had to ask them to quiet down or leave. It wasn’t pretty.”
That was a detail my sister had neglected to mention. I wondered what else she hadn’t told me. I asked, “Was there anybody else? Anybody at all?”
Rufus said, “No, sorry I can’t help. He never seemed to hit on the same woman twice, whether he was successful with them or not. It was like somebody was keeping score, you know?”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I appreciate your help.”
Diana walked me to the door. “Ben, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”
“I will,” I said as I headed out.
“Come back any time,” she added with interest, but I was in too much of a hurry to stay and chat, as appealing as the prospect would have been under normal circumstances. She was, after all, an attractive woman, and smart, too. There was no time to pursue anything with her, though. At the moment, I had a pressing need to find my sister Louisa. We were going to have to talk about what else she wasn’t telling me. Louisa had had every opportunity to mention her public squabble with Jerry to me, but she hadn’t breathed a word about it. As I drove to her apartment, I wondered if she’d wanted me to find out after all. Why else would she have mentioned the bookstore to me? It didn’t make Louisa guilty in my mind, not of anything more than bad judgment in not sharing everything with me, but if I was going to be of any use to her at all, I had to convince her that she needed to tell me everything, no matter how trivial it might seem to her. Though it was looking worse and worse for her, I still couldn’t see Louisa killing someone, even with justification. Halfway to her place, I remembered her promise to stay at Kate’s that night. It was in the other direction, but I figured I might as well keep driving to her apartment. Knowing Louisa, she’d probably changed her mind about staying somewhere else anyway. She had a will of her own that had been getting her into trouble her entire life.
When I got there, I immediately knew I’d been right in driving to her place first; the lights were blazing away in her apartment.
I could tell by her lack of a response that Louisa wasn’t in the mood for company, but I didn’t care. She finally answered her door the third time I leaned on the buzzer.
“Ben, what are you doing here? I was just on my way to Kate’s house. You don’t have to watch over me like I’m some kind of child.”
“Somebody’s got to,” I said. “Let’s go inside. You and I need to talk.”
She glanced at her watch. “Sorry, but I’m late as it is. Kate’s expecting me, and you know how she worries.”
“She’s just going to have to live with it,” I said. “This can’t wait.”
“What’s so urgent?” Louisa asked as she moved out of the way so I could go into her apartment. My sister’s taste in art and furniture usually made me nauseous, and this trip was no different. I liked earth tones and impressionist prints, whereas Louisa went for brash colors and abstracts that gave me migraines every time I walked in.
I tried to keep my eyes diverted from the cacophony of color as I said, “I need to know what else you’ve been keeping from me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
How she managed to say that with a straight face, I’d never know. “Come on, Sis, why else would you steer me to Dying to Read? You wanted me to find out about your fight with Jerry. I’m betting you didn’t say a word to Molly about it, either. What kind of game do you think you’re playing?”
Louisa slumped down into a burgundy sky chair hanging from her ceiling. “I didn’t kill him, Ben, you’ve got to believe me.”
I wanted to feel bad for her, but she was driving me crazy. “Of course I do, you nit, but you’re not making it any easier for me. What was the fight about?” Before she could answer, I shook my head and said, “Please, just don’t tell me you already knew about his womanizing before that telephone call this morning.”
Louisa studied her hands, refusing to meet my gaze, and I knew I’d hit home. I said, “You knew before the phone call this morning, didn’t you?”
She tried to blow the question off, but I wouldn’t let her. “Louisa, tell me the truth.”
Finally, she said, “Okay, I’ll admit that I had my suspicions, but there wasn’t any real proof, not until I got the call this morning. I swear it.”
“Louisa, you need to call Kelly, and I mean right now. If you won’t tell me everything, you should at least tell her before Molly finds out on her own. It’s going to look ten times worse for you if you don’t volunteer the information.”
My sister snapped, “How is Molly going to know anything about it?”
I handed Louisa her telephone. “Come on, Molly’s going to find out, and it’s going to be sooner than later; she’s good at what she does, and you didn’t do all that great a job of hiding your argument. Half a dozen people probably overheard you two, and the second Jerry’s picture hits the papers, somebody’s bound to call the police.”
Louisa looked genuinely concerned as she retrieved Kelly’s business card and dialed the number on it. Good. She needed a good scare to get her to come clean.
After a few words, Louisa hung the telephone up. “She’s coming right over. She was going to a movie, but Kelly said this was more important. Ben, can you stay here with me until she shows up? I’m getting scared.”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a thousand things I have to do.” Honestly, there was nothing pressing, but I was still miffed at my sister for keeping something from me.
In a voice that reminded me of the child she’d been, Louisa said, “Please?”
I patted her arm. All of my hard feelings were washed away with her simple request. “Of course I’ll stay. Tell you what, why don’t we make some tea while we’re waiting? Are you still drinking that English stuff?”
“I’m trying Eastern Bud blends now, but I’ve got Lipton for you, don’t worry.” I was pretty pedestrian in my tea tastes, while Louisa loved the different exotic blends she’d found on the Internet.
The tea was ready by the time the doorbell rang. Louisa asked, “Go let her in, would you? I’ll make up a tray for us.”
I couldn’t believe my sister. “This isn’t a party—Kelly’s here on business.”
“Just get the door, Ben,” she said.
I answered the summons and found Kelly Sheer standing there with a briefcase tucked under one arm. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Instead of the suit I half expected to see her wearing, Kelly had on an attractive green print dress that brought out the emerald shades of he
r eyes and showed off her shapely legs. She was pretty in a way that was hard to describe, and I wondered why more folks didn’t think she was attractive. I’d heard her described as strong, even fierce when she was in court, and one of my customers had once called her a handsome woman, but I thought she was adorable, though I’d never tell her that.
“So that’s what lawyers wear to the movies,” I said as she walked in past me.
“I was dressed a little more appropriately for my plans this evening, but Louisa sounded desperate. Besides, I already had a sitter for Annie, so I was free.”
“Thanks for canceling your date,” I said. “You need to hear what Louisa’s been up to.”
Kelly explained, “It wasn’t a date; just a few friends getting together for a show. What’s going on?”
“I think you should hear it from my sister.”
Louisa came into the living room with the tray. “Thanks for coming, Kelly. Would you like some tea?”
“Later, perhaps,” she said as she put her briefcase down on the sofa. “Right now I’d like to hear this important news.”
“I’ll be going then,” I said as I moved toward the door. “You two don’t need me here.”
Louisa said, “You can stay, Ben. Honestly, I don’t mind.”
“Sorry, but maybe it’s a good idea if you do go, Ben,” Kelly said. “I don’t want anything to jeopardize the attorney-client privilege. Sorry.”
“That’s fine with me,” I said. “I’ll see you both later.”
I left them alone and headed home. There was nowhere I needed to be until morning, and I was worn-out from running all over my part of North Carolina looking for clues. My toe-dip into investigating had given me a lot more respect for Molly and what she did than I ever had before. I’d talked to five people so far, and at least three of them had lied to me, including my own sister. Digging into Jerry Sanger’s life was going to be a lot more difficult than I’d thought, but I didn’t have much choice. Even if I was willing to let it go, Mom wasn’t about to ease up on me until someone else was charged with Sanger’s murder. If I had to choose between nosing into the dead man’s life or getting grief from my mother, it was an easy decision; I’d rather track down a killer than face my mom’s nagging.
