by Marja McGraw
I hurried next door, but Dolly wasn’t home. Maybe she was out with her granddaughter again, which reminded me that I needed to pick up a gift for her great-granddaughter. Then I hurried home to see how much damage had been done to the house.
It didn’t look too bad. A few things out of place, but that was about it.
“Most of the searching was done in your office,” Pete said, watching me survey things.
“Oh. You mentioned that, didn’t you?” I hurried to my home office – I seemed to be doing a lot of hurrying – and saw that it was a mess. Papers were strewn around the room, drawers had been opened and emptied, and the guest daybed I kept in the office had been stripped and the mattress was on the floor. Someone had searched thoroughly.
Returning to the living room, I told Pete I’d be back shortly. The broken window was on the opposite side of the house from Dolly’s place. Maybe my other neighbor had seen something, if she was home.
She wasn’t home either, and I knew the people across the street had gone on vacation.
I walked back to the house, trying to think logically. Who was so interested? It couldn’t be any of the elderly people we’d been talking to, and Ollie was busy taking care of funeral arrangements, I was sure. Marcus was too full of himself to be involved in something like this. It would be beneath him, so to speak.
Of course, I didn’t know if there were more relatives involved with the seniors. There probably were. I’d have to start asking more questions.
I knew Marcus had a sister and, of course, there was his mother. His sister was out of the country, and I certainly couldn’t picture his mother doing something like this. Did Rusty have other kids? I shouldn’t call them kids. They’d be older than my mother.
Did Ollie have siblings? Were there grandchildren in the family?
I hadn’t asked if Estelle had any relatives. I’d ask Stanley to research her a little more. Maybe he already had, knowing him.
Was there anyone left to speak to? I had no idea. Stanley was still looking into that.
You’d think trying to solve an old murder would be easy peasy. The facts were all there, you just had to find them. Easy? Not true. If you looked at family trees, there were usually a number of people that might want to stop the investigation for all kinds of reasons.
I was getting a headache and decided to forget it for the moment and work on cleaning my office.
When I entered the house, I didn’t see Pete. Maybe he was in back with the dogs. I walked straight to my office where I found him sitting on the daybed, talking on his cell phone. He’d put the bed back together for me.
“Thanks,” I mouthed, not wanting to interrupt him.
“Okay,” he said. “See you in half an hour.” He pushed a button and hung up.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Rick. I’m going to meet him today for lunch instead of waiting until tomorrow. I want to update him and get his input on all of this.”
“Good. While you’re gone, I’ll work on sorting this out.” I glanced at all the papers on the floor. “Tell him I said, ‘hi’.”
Pete stood, ready to leave. “I’ll be back in a while. In the meantime, lock the door.”
“Oh, like that’ll do a lot of good with the broken window.”
“I already called someone to come replace the window. He should be here soon. It’s the same guy that replaced Eloise’s broken window.”
“Did you call Eloise to get his name? Did you tell her what happened?”
He’d been a busy boy while I’d been trying to track down neighbors.
“Yes and yes.”
“What’d she say?”
“She wants to go to the shelter on Monday to look for a dog.”
“Figures. She wants both companionship and protection.”
Pete left and I locked the door behind him. It couldn’t hurt, after all.
I had to sort through a lot of papers. I hadn’t realized how much I kept at home. I bundled things up, realizing these should be in file cabinets at the office.
I was almost done when Stanley called.
“I have another lead for you,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Diaries.”
“Diaries? Whose?”
“Officer Humin’s wife kept diaries. I spoke to his granddaughter, Rhoda Purty, and she said she has several. She said that her grandfather used to tell her grandmother everything that was going on, and her grandmother chronicled all of it. She said she’s never sat down and read them, but she’s browsed through them and there are entries about the old speakeasy.”
“Amazing that she’s kept them for all of these years.”
“What’s even more interesting is that Officer Humin took a personal interest in the murders we’re investigating. In addition to the diaries, Ms. Purty has notes he made at the time and throughout his career.”
“Did you set up a meeting with her?” I asked.
“She’s bringing everything into the office,” Stan replied. “She should be here around three o’clock, after she runs an errand nearby.”
“I’ll let Pete know about this before I come in. I’ve got a lot of papers that need to be filed, too.”
We hung up and I called Pete.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“There’s a lot to talk about. Do you need something?” Right to the point. That’s my Pete.
I told him about the call from Stanley.
“I’ll be in the office by three,” he said. “Now I’ve got to get back to Rick while things are still fresh in my mind. He’s actually pretty interested.”
I heard Rick laugh in the background. “Tell Sandi to watch her back.” He’d stopped laughing when he spoke.
We hung up, I put all my papers in the car, and I waited for the window guy to arrive. I was impatient. I wanted to finish up with repairs and get to the office.
The window was replaced and I was on my way to the office in about an hour and a half. I’d have a little time to spare before Rhoda Purty arrived.
Stanley helped me file the papers I’d brought with me while we waited. Felicity stopped in and helped.
“Thanks, Fel,” I said.
“Any time. I don’t have any jobs lined up this week and it was a choice between shopping, staying at home or coming in here. You know, I could do this part-time.”
“Solve murders? Do detective work?” She’d taken me by surprise.
“No, no. I mean help out in the office. I can be your errand girl, and I can research almost as well as Stan after helping him out so much.”
“What about modeling?” I asked.
She was quiet for a moment. “I think I’d rather retire from modeling before they tell me I’m too old for the work.”
I glanced at her and she had a funny little smirk on her face, making her dimples stand out.
“Is that really what you want?”
“I think so. I’ll give it more thought, but I have fun when I’m working with you and Stan and Pete.”
“Fun?” I laughed. “You’ve unofficially helped me a few times. You know what we’re all about. And you call that fun?”
“I do. Besides, I – “
The door opened and a woman whom I assumed was Rhoda Purty walked in carrying a large box.
Stanley hurried over and took the box from her.
“I hope you people like a good mystery,” she said.
Chapter Twenty
“There’s nothing we love more than a good mystery,” Stanley said. “We’ve got a doozy this time, and your diaries and notes may help us solve this one.” He set the box on my desk.
Rhoda patted the top of the box. “You can keep these for as long as you need them, but I would like them back. My grandfather was so involved in trying to solve this old case that it’s always fascinated me.”
She paused.
“I wish I’d had more time to look these things over, but with working and raising my kids by myself, well, you k
now how it is.” She grinned. “Thank heaven the boys are grown and out on their own now.”
I couldn’t relate to her situation, but with the type of work I did, I understood about time crunches.
She seemed to feel the need for more explanation. “My ex left after my second son was born and then disappeared. I guess he didn’t really disappear, but he moved to Mexico and we never saw him again. He never helped out financially, either.”
She turned to me.
“Anyway, I hope the things in that box help. Okay, when I was younger I once sat down and tried to put the pieces together, but I didn’t know enough about Grandpa’s case to figure it out. It was frustrating and I gave up.”
“You never had the chance to ask him questions, did you?” I asked.
“No, he was killed before I was born. My grandmother told me a little, but she said, ‘Read the diaries if you want real answers. I wrote down everything your grandfather told me.’ And, of course, she told me to read his notes, too, if I was interested. I’ve always loved a good mystery. I just don’t know how to solve one.”
She shook her head.
“Well, I’d better be going.” She handed me a piece of paper. “This is my address and phone number. When you’re done, let me know and I’ll pick everything up from you. And if you find out anything, I’d be interested.”
I walked her to the door and thanked her for her help. “These diaries could be invaluable to our investigation.”
She surprised me and gave me a hug before she left. Some people are just natural born huggers.
When I turned back toward my desk, Stanley and Felicity were already going through the box.
Stanley whistled. “This is going to take some time.”
He glanced at his wife.
“I can help,” she said. “My timing is perfect, isn’t it?” She sounded hopeful.
I smiled at her. “Please. Sit down behind my desk and start reading.”
The front door opened and Pete walked in. “Sorry I’m late, but Rick and I started bouncing ideas off each other and I lost track of the time.”
“Did you come up with anything?” I asked.
“Just a lot of suppositions. I think Rick needed a break from the everyday routine, and something happening in the thirties seemed to do the trick. An old crime is like something happening off stage instead of right in front of you.” He pointed at the box on my desk. “Are those the diaries?”
“Yes, and Officer Humin kept notes, too,” Stanley said. “Apparently the case always bothered him and he kept working on it.”
“Rick and I talked about Humin. The fact that he kept working on the murders, and he was called out on a bogus call makes us think he was murdered for just that reason. Maybe he was finally getting too close.”
“But it was about thirty years before he was killed,” I said. “That seems like a long time to wait to take him out.”
“Not if the killer thought he was safe. Killing a cop was probably the last thing he, or she, wanted to do. I’m anxious to read what his notes have to say.”
“Stanley and Felicity are going to go through them,” I said. “Fel wants to work for us on a part-time basis.”
Pete raised his eyebrows. “What about your modeling?”
“I think I want to retire,” Felicity explained. “It sounds glamorous, but it gets tiresome sometimes.”
Pete nodded. “Okay, start reading.”
Stanley looked surprised and Felicity laughed, saying, “On it boss.”
Pete pulled the chair from his desk over for the little munchkin. She’d already started reading, and sat without a word.
“The diaries are dated,” Stanley said, “but they’re not in chronological order in the box. I’ll divide them by year and that might make things less confusing.”
“Good idea, Teddy bear,” Felicity said.
Pete cringed at the endearment.
“What about his notes?” I asked, wandering over to look at the contents of the box.
“Each year is in a separate envelope, so those will be easy to sort.” Stanley picked up an envelope and set it on my desk in front of the diaries.
I studied the volume of paperwork on my desk. “It’s hard to imagine Humin did this much work and never came up with a solution.”
“Maybe he did. Maybe that’s why he was killed,” Pete said. “Like I said, maybe he was getting too close.”
“Then I hope we’re as smart as he was,” I said.
Pete took hold of my arm. “I didn’t have dessert. Let’s go get a piece of pie and coffee and talk about what we know so far.”
Pie sounded pretty good, as long as it was chocolate cream pie. I let Pete lead me out of the office and down the street to our favorite diner.
“You’re not really a dessert person,” I said, taking a bite of my favorite pie. “Why did you want to come to the diner?”
“Things have been busy. I wanted a few minutes for us to be alone.”
I smiled at him.
“I was thinking,” he said. “When this is over, why don’t we take a break and go stay at the house in Battle Ground for a while?”
My smile grew. “That’s a good idea. We can have some real alone time. Stanley and Felicity can cover the office for us, and Washington is such a beautiful state.”
“I’m tempted to move there permanently,” Pete said, tentatively.
“We’ll talk about that sometime.” I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.
“Changing the subject, but why do you think Felicity wants to retire? She’s making good money, right?”
“It’s not all about money, sweetie. She’s made some good investments and she’s socked money away. She talked to me about it once. They’re pretty well set, no matter what she does. I think she’s just tired of the life of a model. I could be wrong, but actually I think I’m right. She’s made a few comments about being disillusioned and wanting a so-called normal life, whatever that is.”
“I don’t think Stan would want to live on her money, though.”
“Probably not, but he makes a decent living working for us. Well, we won’t make him rich, but he can pay the bills – as long as we keep bringing in clients.”
“I guess it’s none of our business.” Pete pushed his coffee mug away. “Okay, let’s get back to work.”
We walked back to the office and I realized we’d never discussed Horace and Harley. I guessed that Pete had just wanted a break, and we both seemed more relaxed. It had worked.
When we returned, we found Stanley and Felicity deep in conversation. They saw us and clammed up, making me feel that they’d been discussing something personal.
“Have you found anything?” I asked, not wanting to butt in.
“I think there’s a lot to be learned here,” Stanley said, indicating the stacks of diaries and papers.
Yes, there were several diaries, not just a few.
“It appears that Officer Humin was obsessed with Horace’s death. Of course, he didn’t know that Harley and Loretta were deceased, too, but he seemed to have a feeling that all wasn’t what it appeared to be. He didn’t believe that Harley was a killer, and he didn’t have a clue about where Loretta had disappeared to. From the few things we’ve already read, he didn’t participate in the theory that the two had run off together.
“By the way, his wife’s notes are quite precise. It appears they discussed the circumstances of Horace’s death in great detail.”
Felicity smiled. “I think he and his wife worked together like you and Pete do. She wasn’t a police officer, but she talked to people and researched a lot for him. That’s obvious from the very beginning.”
“Are all of the diaries about his work?” Pete asked.
“No,” Fel replied, “the first diaries are her personal thoughts and things like that. We’ve figured out which diary she started writing in that might help our investigation. Initially, she talked about what she’d fixed for dinner and which butcher she visited. I t
hink they were a product of the Depression because there were times she fixed breakfast for dinner, trying to save a penny here and a penny there.”
“My grandmother talked about my great-grandmother doing that,” I said. “She even raised her own chickens.”
Felicity nodded. “Anyway, we’ve figured out which diaries are personal and which began her husband’s longtime investigation. We put her early ones in the box.”
“Back to the original question,” Pete asked, “have you found anything?”
“She mentions the people you’ve already spoken to, and a couple of men we weren’t aware of, like Prescott Strong and someone she calls Water Boy. So far we haven’t come up with a name for Water Boy. Maybe we’ll figure it out after we read more. That’s an odd nickname, isn’t it?”
Stanley raised his index finger for attention. “I read what was in the diary about Water Boy and I think he may have been a custodian or clean up man. Maybe Estelle knows who he was. Humin seemed to think he was a suspicious character.”
I raised my own index finger. “I’ll call and speak to Margaret, the nurse. She can ask her if she knows who Water Boy was.”
Chapter Twenty-one
I called Margaret and posed my question about Water Boy’s identity.
“Estelle is sleeping right now. When she wakes up I’ll ask her about this water boy and call you back.”
“Remember,” I said, “Water Boy was a nickname, not a profession. At least, I don’t think it was his profession.”
“Got it. I don’t know much about what’s going on, but Estelle is pretty excited. She’s hoping you’ll come see her again.”
“Oh, we will. She can tell you what we’re working on if she wants to.”
“I can’t help wondering if she’s getting a little confused,” Margaret said. “She said you were solving three murders.”
“Unfortunately, she’s correct. That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“Should I be worried? Does this have anything to do with the home?”
“No, these deaths happened back in the thirties. It’s nothing current.”
“Thank goodness.” The nurse sounded relieved. “That puts a whole different light on what I thought were ramblings.”
