"Sleeping it off at his folks' house. In case you’re wondering, they're both Sweathog alums and donate to the college."
"They said Sweathog?" she asked.
"Of course not," Mahan said.
“So, you couldn’t talk to him?”
“They literally led us to his bedroom. He was snoring and reeked of booze.” Calderone yawned. “They also said at the time Ben was murdered he was doing the same.”
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. "I can't imagine Monty having the coordination to match his rage with maneuvering a weapon in Ben's direction."
Mahan shrugged. "I can see him being on the floor to do it."
"Good point," Elizabeth said. "We’ll have to talk to him more directly later. Still can't rule out anyone."
"Maybe rule in Wessley?" Calderone asked.
Elizabeth thought for a moment. "Despite Nick's point that Wessley wouldn't want to get his hands dirty, I think he really wanted that money. If he’s done, or knows anything, he may be looking for a deal."
"He'd be looking for the money," Calderone said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ELIZABETH HADN’T WANTED to tell Beals that she, Calderone, and Mahan had already discussed planting the idea that money was hidden in the diner. They'd considered having people mention it while eating at the Weed and Feed or one of the town's two coffee shops.
However, Beals' idea of the wake presented a more immediate option, and it certainly related directly to Ben. Maybe she would put in a good word for Beals with the prosecuting attorney.
Most of her officers and their families were at the funeral home Sunday night. Everyone knew Ben even if they didn’t eat at the diner. Most people knew he had little family – and none who would be in town.
Usually Elizabeth stayed five or ten minutes at a funeral home visitation. Not tonight.
Leaving the Farm Funeral Home was a typical small-town facility. It once was an elegant home. Many clapboard homes built in the 1890s had deteriorated because of the cost of painting them or replacing the huge roofs.
This one might have, too, but it was converted to the town funeral home in the 1920s, with additions for garages and embalming facilities added through the years. Its broad porch was graced with two-story columns and white wicker furniture, giving it almost an antebellum appearance.
Tonight Elizabeth sat in one of the ten rows of pews in the main viewing room. She chatted first with Squeaky and Doris.
Squeaky mopped his brow as he sat next to her. “This may not be the time, Elizabeth, but have you learned much?”
She shook her head. “We have several ideas, most of them centering around any…extra money Ben may have had in the diner or his apartment. But so far no luck finding any. Could mean it’s still there, could mean Ben’s killer took it.”
“Gosh. I guess that’s one notion.”
Doris leaned across Squeaky to focus on Elizabeth. “I think a person passing through killed him. Otherwise, somebody would have said something.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Not sure a killer would be blabbing when they bought cookies, Doris.”
Squeaky stood, and Doris followed suit. “You’ll let us know, right Chief?”
“Of course.”
They hadn’t made it to the exit when Skelly sat in a pew behind her. “You don’t talk about cases in public.”
She turned and lowered her voice. “I do if I want someone to play their hand.”
He grinned. “A poker hand?”
“That’ll do.” She faced the front again.
Skelly leaned on the back of Elizabeth’s pew so that his face was only a few inches from her left ear.
“I’m halfway serious. What are you up to?”
Elizabeth smiled but didn’t face him. “I hope someone decides they want to check out the diner again. Maybe the killer didn’t get what he or she wanted.”
“You honestly think it’s someone local?”
“Not sure. If it was someone passing through, they’re long gone and we’ll never know, will we?”
He frowned. “I might prefer that.”
A sob reached them from near the door that led into the viewing room from the funeral home lobby. Alice more or less stumbled between Gene and Jen, and held a tissue to her nose.
Elizabeth faced the front again. Though they were in a public place, she regarded Alice’s grief as private. Skelly leaned back in his pew.
The trio made their way to the front of the room to stand before the casket. Thankfully, John Stone, as Ben’s executor, had made the decision to keep it closed.
Gene, whose biceps looked as if they’d been stuffed into a white dress shirt, guided Alice to the small prayer kneeler in front of the dark wood casket. She knelt and bowed her head.
Alice’s long-sleeved black dress reached mid-calf when she stood, but hung over her shoes when she knelt. From the back, she could have been a nun in prayer.
Jen stood behind Alice, staring at the bookstore owner’s back. She had on a navy blue dress with white pearls, and wore large sunglasses. Kind of a classy mourning outfit, Elizabeth thought.
Elizabeth had expected Jen to replace Alice at the kneeler, but when Alice rose she sat in the front pew with Gene. Jen stared at the casket for several moments and turned, seemingly to leave.
After she had gone a few steps, she noticed Elizabeth. She paused, and then moved into Elizabeth’s pew to sit next to her. She leaned in and spoke softly, “This is even harder than I thought it would be.”
“I’m sorry, Jen. I know you were close.”
Jen turned her head to briefly look at Elizabeth, and then faced front again. “Alice keeps saying it can only start to be better when you arrest someone.”
“We keep working on it.” Elizabeth glanced right and left, acting as if she wanted to be sure they weren’t overheard. “You can tell Alice we’ve gotten information that someone may have been searching for money hidden in the diner.”
Jen turned her head abruptly to look at Elizabeth’s profile. “Oh my God.”
“Shhh,” Elizabeth said.
Jen faced the front again. “I’m sorry. Do you know who might be trying to find it?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No clue. But the theory is more than speculation.”
Jen took a deep breath. “Money. Alice could certainly use some of it. I almost feel as if…I guess it sounds awful, but that Ben owes it to her, even though he’s gone.”
“I guess if we find anything, it goes to Ben’s lawyer to handle with the estate.”
“But, haven’t you searched?”
Elizabeth spoke softly. “Yes, but we have a few new ideas. We’ll check on it after the funeral. I don’t want to call attention to it in the next couple days. If it’s there, the money isn’t going anywhere.”
Alice came toward them, leaning on Gene’s arm.
Jen smiled slightly. “Gene has been so good to her. Other people, too. Mayor Humphrey sent Alice a sympathy card about losing,” Jen’s voice caught, “her best friend.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Very thoughtful.”
Jen stood. “Good of you to be here, Elizabeth.”
Alice had reached the pew, and waved lightly to Elizabeth and then to Skelly. “Come visit me, Elizabeth.”
“Sure thing.”
As the trio left the room, Skelly leaned forward again. “Isn’t this what the police shows call entrapment?”
She smiled and whispered, “You mean am I inviting them to break into the diner?”
“Kind of sounds like it.”
“You know Steve Johnson well enough to tell him you heard a rumor about money hidden in the diner?”
“No, and if I did I wouldn’t help. Told you, no blue line stuff for me.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I shouldn’t have asked. Mahan’s going to plant the idea when he stops by the sandwich shop while Johnson’s working.” She glanced at her watch. “Right about now.”
Skelly lightly touched her shoulder. “Don’t get in
to the cloak and dagger stuff too deep. I don’t want to see you in the ER.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE PLAN SUNDAY NIGHT WAS to have eyes on Steve Johnson, Blake Wessley, and Jen Abernathy. Mahan thought Alice might try to get into the diner if she thought money was hidden, but Elizabeth had ruled out that option.
For one thing, she didn’t have the staff to cover another location. For another, if Alice were to show up at the diner, she probably wouldn’t know how to avoid being spotted.
In Elizabeth’s mind, that was all moot anyway. Alice would have turned into a puddle of grief and regret after stabbing Ben. She would have been caught on the scene. Or so Elizabeth believed.
Elizabeth was beginning to lean more toward Steve Johnson. His rap sheet, while mild compared to many, showed his temper could lead to violence. He seemed frustrated about his life after not getting his parents’ business. Then Ben got rid of the tipping policy, which had served Steve well.
Elizabeth didn’t think he would plan to murder Ben, but she could see it happening.
On the security video, Ben had seemed glad to see someone who came into the diner not long before he died. That could have been Alice or Jen. It could also have been Steve. If Ben had fired him, he might have been pleased to see that Steve was still willing to be friendly.
All of the plans to watch Jen, Steve, and Blake Wessley could be for nothing. She had nothing to lose by trying, except an extra chunk from her overtime budget.
Elizabeth had planned to sit outside Steve’s small bungalow, but Mahan and Calderone had essentially overruled her. They had a list of reasons for why she should take Jen – she might relate better to you, she’s already mad at Calderone for upsetting Alice – and none of them were “we think the men should handle the big man.”
She smiled. Whatever. She’d taken down far more criminals than they had, but if it made them feel better if she watched Jen, fine.
It probably didn’t matter. The odds of any of the three trying to break into the Bully Pulpit the night of Ben's visitation seemed low. However, there’d been no point in planting the seed of unfound money without keeping an eye on the people who might go after it.
Grayson was going to drive through town, making deliberate detours by the diner. He’d be there for back-up, and if an unanticipated break-in candidate appeared, he’d be on the spot. Grayson wanted to sit in Gene’s tattoo parlor, which was closed on Sundays. Elizabeth put down that idea without bothering to tell him she didn’t trust his sleeping habits.
Elizabeth sat outside Jen’s apartment in her personal car, a small Ford. The Crown Vic was a lot more comfortable, but would have been out of place on the quiet street.
After an hour, Elizabeth was tempted to use her smart phone to read the news, but its bright screen would alert any passerby to her presence.
The porch light was still on at the prairie-style house Jen lived it. Its conversion to apartments had been done carefully, with added entrances on the side.
Other converted houses had parking areas behind them, but the owner still lived in this one, a rarity, and she had a large garden and fish pond in the back. Jen would have to come out to the street to get her car.
The porch light went off at eleven, which Elizabeth took as a good sign. Jen, if she were to go out, would wait for her landlord to go to sleep. Slumber must be coming.
Elizabeth yawned. She wanted to be in bed with her cat at her feet. Or trying to curl around her head.
Just before midnight, Elizabeth saw the crack of light at the front door before she saw Jen slip out. On the dark porch, she gripped the side rail as she crept down the steps.
Jen moved quickly to her aging Corolla, got in, and started the engine without turning on the headlights. Still, running lights had come on automatically, which would make it easier to follow her car down the road.
Elizabeth had parked two cars down from Jen. After Jen drove halfway down the block, Elizabeth pulled into the street, also with headlights off.
When Jen turned left on Combine Street, she turned on her main headlights. Elizabeth kept hers off.
She pushed the pre-programmed three-way call function on her phone to reach Calderone and Mahan on their cell phones. “Looks as if Jen is driving toward the Bully Pulpit.”
“Can’t you say something like book lady on the move?”
Mahan’s laughter joined Calderone’s.
“I’d say grow up, but you guys are old.”
“Get that knife out of my back, would you Mahan?”
Elizabeth smiled to herself. Apparently night shift banter was less formal than day-shift repartee.
More serious, Calderone said, “We’re each about the same distance from the diner. We can park a block away, near the square, and walk down the side of the street without street lights.”
Elizabeth was thankful for the network of alleys behind many of the downtown buildings. “I’ll park in the alley opposite the Bully Pulpit and cross the street so I can see behind the diner.”
Elizabeth parked behind Squeaky’s dry cleaning store and moved two stores down so she could cut through to Combine Street. Then she crossed to the side of Ben’s old place so she could get to the alley behind it.
She peered around the corner of the building. Jen had not been there long, and seemed to be struggling to slide her key in the back door. She tried several times, and then leaned her head against the glass in the door.
Elizabeth pushed Calderone’s number again and whispered, “She’s in back.”
In a more normal volume, he said, “We’ll stay in the doorway at the tattoo place and keep an eye on the front. She won’t see us.”
With two of them, Elizabeth wasn’t so sure. Jen probably would not go out the front, so it really didn’t matter.
Elizabeth had stayed beside the Bully Pulpit while she talked, so she didn’t see Jen break the window on the back door. The tinkle of glass hitting pavement or floor was notice enough.
She peered around the corner and saw Jen reach in to flip the deadbolt. Jen peered down the alley in the opposite direction of Elizabeth, who just had time to pull her head back before Jen looked her way.
In the stillness, Elizabeth heard the diner’s back door open and shut. She called Calderone. “She’s in.”
“How long you want to wait?”
“Let’s give her about two minutes. If she knows about the door under the booth, that’ll give her time to get it open, but probably not shut.”
Mahan’s voice carried to Calderone’s phone. “And if she doesn’t know?”
“We get her for breaking and entering. I don’t think she knows, or she would have been in there earlier.”
“Agreed,” Calderone said.
“I have a key, but I didn’t hear the lock click on the back door, so I think it’s open. I’m going to wait one minute and go in. Why don’t you guys move across the street, so you’re near the front door if she comes out?”
“Sure thing.”
“And you two have the copy of the new front door key if you need it.”
“Yes, Chief,” Mahan said.
At something close to a leisurely pace, Elizabeth walked to the Bully Pulpit’s back door. Because of the hole in the glass pane, she could tell Jen was not in the kitchen.
To minimize noise, Elizabeth turned the handle slowly and pushed the door in. She glanced at the floor and stepped over the glass. No sense announcing her presence with a crunch.
She moved quietly across the kitchen and stood a few feet behind the large pass-through from the kitchen into the customer area. The booth space was lit somewhat from streetlights filtering through the blinds.
A flashlight’s beam bobbed to the right of the pass-through opening. Something metallic crashed to the floor. Judging from Jen’s position, it sounded like the toaster that usually sat there.
Elizabeth moved to the edge of the kitchen and glanced right. Jen appeared frantic as she shoved a bunch of salt and pepper shakers to the floor fr
om their narrow shelf under the customer counter and ran her hand along the empty shelf.
Elizabeth spoke in a low voice. “Jen. What are you doing in here?”
Jen’s back had been to Elizabeth, and she whirled to face her. “What…I…I mean I’m…” Her voice trailed off.
Elizabeth spoke more loudly. “What are you doing in the diner?”
Jen leaned on the counter and slowly placed her head on it, shoulders stooped.
“Do you have a weapon?”
Her head popped up. “A weapon? No, of course not.”
Elizabeth went to the diner’s front door, flipped the dead bolt, and opened it. “Come on in guys. It’s clear.”
Calderone and Mahan entered and Jen looked at the three of them. “You, you knew?”
Elizabeth took the handcuffs off her belt. “We’ll go to the station and discuss it.”
JEN SAT, UNCUFFED, IN the police station conference room, staring at the steaming mug of tea in front of her. She wore a navy blue turtleneck and dark jeans.
Dressed for a burglary, Elizabeth thought.
Calderone and Elizabeth had left her alone for several minutes, but now sat across from her. Mahan had the morning shift, so had gone home to get a few hours of sleep. Grayson was back on his usual night patrol.
“Jen.” When she looked up, Elizabeth said, “It would be good if you talked to us.”
“I know I’m in trouble.”
“And we read you your rights. Are you sure you don’t want to call a lawyer?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
Even though she was wearing a confused girl expression, Elizabeth thought Jen was a shrewd woman. She wanted to see what the police knew.
Elizabeth picked up a small digital recorder. “I think we may be able to help you. Do I have your permission to record this interview?”
Jen nodded.
“I need you to say it out loud.”
Jen lifted her chin higher. “Okay. Record it. It’s not a big deal. None of it is.”
Elizabeth nodded and pushed the button on the recorder. She named the three people in the room, the date and time, and asked Jen to repeat her permission to tape the interview.
Tip a Hat to Murder Page 16
