by Curry, Edna
But they’d all been prescription bottles, I’d seen that much. Had her husband deliberately locked the pills up because she took too many? Or was he an abusive husband who kept needed medication from her to control her in some way?
Or did I have abusive husbands on my mind because of Frank Johnson? I sure hoped Martha and her little daughter, Sally, were okay.
Had Roger’s threat of an arrest helped keep Frank in line?
***
That night I decided to grab a hamburger at the Lilliput Bar for supper. With onion rings. I hadn’t had onion rings in ages, fearing the extra calories, but was really craving them, so it was time to splurge.
I grabbed a booth towards the back and ordered my food and a screwdriver. I’d just gotten my food when Chance walked in. He glanced around and saw me, then headed for my booth. “May I join you?”
“Won’t Ben object?” I challenged. “There are people we know here who might tell him or others that we were seen together.”
“Right now, I don’t care,” Chance said, sitting opposite me. “Ben is being a pill.”
“Oh? How now?”
Chance shook his head. “He wants me to get DNA samples from every suspect. You know how many people I’m going to piss off asking for those?”
I laughed. “You’re welcome to mine, Chance. I can’t wait to see Ben’s face when mine don’t match whatever he has to compare them to.”
“Really? You’ll give me a sample and won’t be mad at me?”
“Nope. DNA proves innocence as often as guilt. You should know that.”
“I do,” Chance said. “But usually the public doesn’t.”
My lips twisted in a wry smile. “I’m not the public, Chance.”
“You sure aren’t. You’re something special, Cassie.” He puckered his lips and sent me a quick air-kiss across the table.
A waitress hurried over, giving Chance a special smile. He ordered a hamburger and black coffee, explaining, “I’m working, just on break.” The waitress nodded and took his order over to Jack who was manning the grill along the opposite wall.
Just then a blonde, wearing such a tight Tee shirt she almost burst out of it, strode into the bar and walked back to Jack. She perched on the bar stool closest to him and waited for him to notice her. He glanced up, glared at her and continued flipping burgers. Ignoring her, he reached up, grabbed a couple more buns and slapped them onto the grill to heat.
“Damn it, Jack, quit ignoring me,” she screamed at him. Her high-pitched voice carried over the murmur of voices in the crowded bar and the sounds of the two TVs tuned to a cable sports channel.
“Go chase the new guy, if you’re so hot for him,” Jack shot back at her.
“I only went out with him a few times to make you jealous, Jack, Sweetie,” she whined. “You know you’re my all-time favorite.”
“Huh,” Jack said over his shoulder. “Maybe I don’t want to be your favorite. I want to be your only. But you don’t know how to stick to one man, do you?”
“Jack, honey, you’re making a scene in front of all these nice people,” she said, looking around the room, which had quieted a bit. Some people watched out of the corner of their eyes, others watched openly, grinning.
Jack faced her. “Get lost. I’m busy.” He turned back to his work.
She burst into tears and rushed out of the bar.
Chance looked at me, “What do you make of that?”
I shrugged. “Sounds to me like she is seeing someone else along with him and he found out about it.”
“Yeah.” He eyed Jack, who didn’t seem upset that his girlfriend had left in tears. “Maybe they’re not as close as I thought they were. I think I’d better find out who the new boyfriend is,” he said, half under his breath.
“So did you discover new clues, today?”
He shrugged. “I learned lots of details about the people connected to my case. But I have no idea which of them may prove to be useful.”
“I see.” I eyed him over my drink. “Including me?”
“Sure.” He grinned, obviously enjoying my reaction.
I snarled back at him. “I’m glad you find embarrassing me fun. What did you learn that was so interesting?”
“You don’t date much, so I don’t have a rival like Jack does.” His brown eyes twinkled at me.
I swallowed. Was he really flirting with me? “And?”
“You went to the University of Minnesota, majored in English, then took a course in lock-smithing when you didn’t want to teach English and couldn’t make a living writing novels.”
I blushed. Few people in the area knew I wrote novels on the side. Who had ratted me out? “How did you find that out?”
He grinned and accepted his coffee from the waitress, waiting to answer until she retreated. “I had lunch with your friend Ardis at the Corner Café today.”
“I’m going to kill her,” I muttered under my breath, and sipped my drink.
“Don’t use that expression when you’re sitting with a cop,” Chance said, frowning at me. “Especially when you’re already a ‘person of interest’ in a murder investigation.”
I blushed again, chastened. “I couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Then don’t say otherwise. Also, the house you bought and plan to someday remodel, is seventy years old. And you don’t make much money, but you squeak by each month.”
I cast him a dirty look. “You didn’t need to snoop into my finances.”
“I didn’t really. I was only joking. I guessed that part because Deputy Tom told me you’d said to call you for lockouts, even if they were at night, and the sheriff had said not to call a woman then. Still, I hear you turned down the job of rekeying this bar today.”
“Don’t remind me that I turned down good money,” I said morosely. “So, what did you learn about Mildred’s past?” I asked, thinking it past time to change the subject. “Nobody around here knows much about her. She and John Weeks said they were from Ohio and had found the bar through a real estate site online and came here to check it out.”
“That’s what I found, too,” Chance said. “She’d worked in various bars in Ohio and met John there when they worked in the same bar. They decided they could run one on their own and had enough savings to buy the Lilliput. So they moved here about ten years ago. Their only son, Bob, was already in college in Chicago.”
“What about Frank Johnson, the second son we learned about at her funeral?”
“As far as I can tell, she had him as an unmarried teenager and gave him up for adoption through a church agency.”
“And now she decided to acknowledge him? How did she find him?”
“According to her lawyer, Frank found her through some group that helps kids find their birth parents. He claims to have had a hard life with his adopted family. He ran away when he was sixteen and has been on his own since.”
“And he and Mildred didn’t get along, either, so that’s why she never told anyone here?” I guessed.
“Apparently. But she felt guilty that he didn’t have the good life she’d thought he would, so she put him in her will and told the lawyer to release the information after her death.”
The waitress brought our food and left again, appearing miffed that Chance wasn’t paying her any attention.
I glanced around, but no one was paying us any attention, either. I leaned close and asked, “Can I tell you something off the record?”
“Depends,” Chance said cautiously. “Does it pertain to this case?”
“Not that I know of. I usually don’t discuss my work, worrying about privacy laws, but this afternoon’s event is bugging me.” Darcy and Ardis wouldn’t understand, but Chance would, I felt sure. But could I trust him with the info? Would he feel obligated to investigate it? I hesitated, chewed an onion ring and sipped my drink.
Chance snitched an onion ring from my basket, commenting, “I love these things. So, give, Cassie. What’s bugging you?”
“A weird job t
oday.” I told him about the woman so desperate for her pills, she’d had a panic attack and smashed her safe’s dial before I got there. And how she’d grabbed the pills, taken some, then paid me and rushed me out the door, saying she didn’t want her husband to know. “Doesn’t that sound odd to you?”
I ate another onion ring, then sipped my drink, while I watched him chew his hamburger and think about it.
“Yeah, it does sound peculiar,” Chance admitted. “But you’re sure they were prescriptions?”
“Well, the pills were in prescription bottles. I suppose the bottles could have contained something else. I didn’t get a look at the date or name of the drug, but did see her name on at least a couple of the bottles. But why would someone lock them in a safe?”
“Maybe she’d overdosed before? Or someone was controlling her by withholding them? If you give me her name, I could check out her past.”
I chewed my lip, debating. With a sigh, I shook my head. “I’d better not. I’d be violating her trust in me.”
“Okay,” Chance said. He sipped his coffee. “Your call.”
“Yeah,” I said, savoring another onion ring. “Want another?” I offered him the half-empty basket.
“Thanks,” he said, taking one and downing it in two quick bites.
The door burst open with a loud bang, making everyone turn toward it. Mildred’s son, Bob Weeks, strode in, a huge scowl on his face. He glanced around the room, then headed for Jack, who was manning the grill along the far wall.
“Oh, oh,” I said. “Looks like trouble.”
“Yeah. Stay put.”
“Don’t worry about that. I avoid trouble whenever possible,” I said.
Chance put down his coffee cup, obviously ready for action. He watched Bob confront Jack across the counter. Jack stood almost a head taller than Bob, making me think there’d be no contest if this turned physical. But Jack’s size didn’t seem to matter to Bob. The hum of conversation in the room had stopped, leaving only the background noise of the TVs up on the wall. All heads turned to watch the two men.
Bob yelled, “What’s this I hear about you trying to buy the bar?”
Jack scooped the hamburger patty off the grill and onto the bun. He handed the plate to Kathy for the finishing touches, and laid aside his spatula. Kathy scurried out from between the men, casting Bob a fearful look.
Jack turned to Mildred’s son and said mildly, “This isn’t the place to discuss business, Bob. We can talk at Mildred’s lawyer’s office, where the whole town won’t hear.”
“I want to know what you’re up to, damn it! Now!”
“I only put in an offer to buy the bar. You don’t own this place yet, Bob. And according to the lawyer, when and if you do, you’ll be only half-owner. So don’t come barging in here, bossing me around. I’m the temporary manager and I have a perfect right to throw you out until the lawyer tells me otherwise.”
“Which will be very soon, you big ape!” Bob thrust his chin forward and glared at Jack.
Jack merely smiled. “If it happens, you’ll have my resignation along with the keys to this place. So you’d better start looking for my replacement if you want to keep it open.”
“Good idea!” Bob said, blanching a little and looking less confident.
“Can you cook?” Jack asked, pushing his advantage.
“No, but there are plenty of people out of work who can,” Bob said, his voice less belligerent now. “I’m sure I can hire somebody.” With that, he turned and stomped out the door.
The customers resumed talking and eating. A couple of guys chortled and said, “Atta boy, Jack!”
Obviously, they were hoping Jack stayed. Not surprising, because they knew and liked Jack and had only just met Mildred’s son, who’d seldom even visited here.
I looked at Chance. “I guess the show’s over.”
He’d visibly relaxed, now that Bob had left. “Yeah, looks that way.” He gulped the last of his coffee. “I’ve got to get going. You’ll stop by and give me a DNA sample tomorrow then?”
“Sure,” I agreed. I watched him leave and finished off my food, then headed home, fatigue making me ache all over. The day’s stresses had caught up with me. I wanted a hot bath, some aspirin, and sleep.
***
Two days later, when Chance strode into the sheriff’s office, he found Ben hunched over his desk, reading some papers.
Ben leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “I hear you had supper with Cassie at the Lilliput the other night.”
“Yeah,” Chance said, helping himself to coffee. He dropped into the chair opposite Ben.
“Didn’t I tell you not to fraternize with our suspects?”
Chance gritted his teeth. “I went in for a burger, and she happened to be there. It wasn’t a planned date or anything.”
“Are you still upset that we have Cassie on the suspect list? I think you’re getting sweet on her.”
Chance glared at him. “So what if I am? You’ve known her a lot longer than I have. You know damn well she couldn’t kill anyone. Besides, why the hell would she? You don’t have a motive.”
Ben shrugged. “Her motive would be robbery, same as the others on your list. She’s always short of money. Behind on bills a lot, I hear, isn’t she?”
Chance sipped his coffee. “No more than anyone else around here. Everybody running a small business puts in long hours for very little profit. You know that as well as I do.”
“Sure. But she was on the scene at close to the right time. Dispatch sent her there and the bakery driver saw her van, too.”
“Yeah, right. She jumps out of her nice warm bed at two in the morning in answer to a call from your own dispatch, for Pete’s sake. She goes out in the cold rain, drives to the next town and decides to shoot Mildred. Great logic, there, Ben.”
“She could have seen an opportunity for quick money and taken it.”
Chance felt heat rise up his neck. “Oh, right. So, then, if she robbed Mildred, why doesn’t she suddenly have enough money to pay all her bills?”
“Huh.” Ben looked thoughtful.
“And where’d she get the gun? She doesn’t have a permit, I checked. Did you find one?”
“No,” Ben conceded. “At least not yet. Did you search her house?”
“Of course not. Do you have probable cause to get a warrant to do that?”
Ben reluctantly shook his head, rubbing the side of his bony, crooked nose. “She’s had plenty of time to get rid of it, since the murder.”
“You’re impossible. I suppose she made up the client, too?” Chance challenged, frowning at Ben over the rim of his cup. “Where’d she get the license number? It was a legitimate number, remember. What about him almost hitting the bakery van with his car? I suppose Brad was just seeing things? His description of the car matches hers.”
“There is that,” Ben conceded. “But she still could have gone to the bar earlier.”
Chance shook his head. “Nope. The time doesn’t fit. No time between when dispatch called her home landline and when Brad saw her van in the parking lot as the car came racing out.”
Ben scowled back. “Or she could be covering for someone else.”
Chance tipped his head in disbelief. “Now we have a conspiracy to kill Mildred? With Cassie helping someone? Or is she the ringleader and someone else helped her? I suppose she hired a guy to pose as being locked out of his car. Why? And, if so, why didn’t he call her instead of 9-1-1? Why would he risk bringing the cops to the murder scene before he got away?”
Ben sent him a scowl and got up to refill his cup. “I’m not saying it makes sense, I’m just trying to explore all the possibilities here. Don’t get hot under the collar. It’s possible, you know.”
“Yeah, right. You’re letting your imagination run away with you. Use a little common sense, here, Ben.”
Ben sat, then shifted in his chair. “I am. She’s a locksmith. She could have gotten into the bar without a key.”<
br />
“You’re forgetting the alarm system. Cassie doesn’t work on alarms. She doesn’t know the code,” Chance said.
“But the bar employees all do.”
“Turn that around, Ben. Any of those employees or the bakery van driver could have done it or given the code to an accomplice.”
“That’s true.”
“Did you also hear about Bob yelling at Jack for wanting to buy the bar?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Looks like those two had more than one motive. So, give it up on Cassie, will ya?”
Ben shook his head. “Can’t do that, yet, Chance, and you know it. Now get out of here. And no shenanigans with Cassie, at least where anyone in town can see you. I’m getting heat from the county board already about getting this case solved. I don’t need any gossip about my detectives being sweet on a suspect.”
He’d never even asked her for a date and already the sheriff was ordering him away from her. “And if I don’t stay away from her?”
“I’d hate to lose you. But you know my choices, Chance.” Ben’s voice had hardened, but carried a note of regret.
Chance rose, tossed his Styrofoam cup into the wastebasket and stretched for a moment, staring out the window. Rain splashed against the window pane and slid down the glass. “Yeah,” he grunted. “I know your choices.”
Should he throw in his job right now? He itched to do just that. To swing around to face the sheriff and tell him to take this job and shove it where the sun don’t shine. Yeah, that would give him great pleasure.
But then, Ben would have to turn this case over to someone else who probably would really botch the job. Somebody with a whole lot less experience than he had. Somebody who wouldn’t know how to dig as deep as he would for the truth and maybe even arrest Cassie on Ben’s say so. The very thought made his stomach churn.
No, he had to see this case through. Find the real killer. That sure as hell wasn’t Cassie. He knew it deep in his gut. But knowing that wasn’t enough. He had to prove it.
Chapter 5
