Justice in Mystic Grove

by S F Bose

  “It’s a good thing you were here later than usual,” I said and smiled.

  Aggie blushed. “To be honest, I was also working on different versions of my resume and printing off copies here. I did that after I was done with my work. My boyfriend and I are moving to Boston and I want to get a job as soon as I can.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get a great job,” I said. Aggie rewarded me with a smile that lit up her face.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  I turned off the voice recorder and stood.

  “Here’s my business card, Aggie. If you think of anything else, please call me,” I said.

  She took the card and nodded. “I will.”

  Sam and I gloved up and Aggie opened Meagher’s office. Newmont said he’d wait in the reception area.

  Meagher’s office smelled musty. It was a windowless room with an oak desk, a high-backed leather chair, and two guest chairs. A wooden bookshelf and two gray file cabinets lined up against the wall. A model sailboat rested on top of the bookshelf. Framed photos of sailboats hung on the walls. In the corner, a small desktop printer sat on a table. There was another door on the right wall.

  “Does that door lead to another office?” I asked.

  Aggie unlocked the desk and file cabinets. She looked over at the door. “No, that’s a small closet. It’s not locked.” Then she left the office.

  I sat in Meagher’s chair and opened all the desk drawers. “No computer that I can find. The deputies must have taken it. Desk calendar is gone too,” I said. Sam grunted. He was checking out the closet.

  “What a mess,” he muttered. I looked over and saw a few jackets hanging in the closet. Stacks of boxes and books sat on the floor. A blanket, some old hats, and other things were on a shelf on top. Sam started emptying everything out of the closet.

  I concentrated on the desk and went through the drawers methodically. I found the usual pens, pencils, ruler, paper clips, throat lozenges, and breath mints in the top middle drawer. The top right drawer was filled with blank notepads and a roll of brown electrical tape. Boxes of pens, paperclips, staples, and rubber bands filled the middle right drawer. When I found more blank notepads in the bottom right drawer, I groaned. I pulled them all out and put them on the floor.

  Then I saw a strip of brown electrical tape on the front edge of the drawer bottom. When I peeled the tape off, I felt the drawer bottom move. I also saw a finger hole that the tape had concealed. I slid my forefinger into the hole and lifted the drawer bottom. It was a false bottom!

  “Sam, I found something.”

  I put two 9mm handguns and some clips on top of the desk. There was also an oversized manila envelope in the bottom of the drawer.

  “Bonanza,” Sam said and smiled. “This was in a drawer?”

  “He fitted the bottom drawer with a false bottom. Pretty slick,” I replied.

  Sam checked the two handguns to make sure they were unloaded and set them aside. Then he pulled up a chair across from me.

  I opened the manila envelope and dumped the contents on top of the desk. There were three stacks of hundred-dollar bills, a small notebook, some keys, a photo of a woman and two small children, and several legal-sized envelopes.

  I picked up the photo. “This is Sharon Meagher. I recognize her from the photos at Sue Barlow’s house.” I stared at the woman with the shy smile and her two young children.

  Sam opened one of the legal envelopes and extracted a document. After a minute, he whistled.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s Steven Meagher’s last Will and Testament.”

  “No way! Really?”

  “I kid you not,” he replied and quickly read the document. “It’s dated 1993. He left his entire estate to Sharon Meagher with cash bequests to his two children.”

  I opened the second envelope. “Is this the same Will?” I asked.

  Sam compared the two documents. “They’re identical and have the same date. Two legal copies of the same Will. That’s strange.”

  Then I opened the notebook. The first page said, “Rainy Day Fund.”

  “Looks like a ledger of some sort. Dates, code names, some sort of number key, and a dollar amount. I flipped through the notebook and went back to the page in back with the most recent entries.

  “Mar 2, 15 MB Lg B6205408020521 $100/m

  Feb 15, 15 CS Sc S3501209067502 $20/m

  Jan 4, 15 BM Th M3000607701254 $30/m

  Nov 29 14 GR Re R4007208484303 $80/m

  Sep 5, 14 DR Dc R3001608609705 $60/m”

  I handed the book to Sam. He flipped through the pages and examined some of them closely.

  “Looks like a collections book,” he said. “Must be hundreds of entries here. The dollar amounts are all written in pencil.”

  They called Newmont into the office and showed him what they’d found.

  “Shoot, I’m glad you did your own search,” he said with a scowl. “I’m going to have to talk to our people.”

  “Meagher did a good job hiding this stuff,” I replied, but Newmont didn’t look any happier.

  “I’d like to copy everything so we can research them. You’ll get the originals. Is that okay with you?” Sam asked.

  “As long as I can put the originals into evidence, that’s fine,” Newmont replied.

  I gave Newmont the guns, clips, money, and keys. Sam went to the copier in the main office and made three copies of the notebook. He also copied the photograph and two Wills.

  “You and I will each get a set of the copies,” Sam said. “We’ll have one set of copies for our case evidence box.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. Sam gave Newmont a Manila envelope containing the original notebook, Will, and photograph. He filled another Manila envelope with our copies. I put that in my messenger bag.

  After that, Sam finished going through the contents of the closet.

  “Nothing here,” he said and returned everything to the closet.

  We checked the file cabinets, all of the furniture in the office, the bookshelves, the photos, and the chairs. Other than dust bunnies, we found nothing more to help our investigation. Newmont gave Aggie a receipt for everything we took. Despite keeping her at the office an hour beyond her planned noon departure time, Aggie was much friendlier when we left.

  Chapter 15

  Sam and I stopped at the Tipsy Cow on our way back to the office. We planned to have lunch and talk to the owner about Steven Meagher’s last lunch there.

  We walked inside and stopped by the register. Four diners ate lunch at the front counter and one older couple sat at a table in the back of the dining room.

  Tony, the owner, hurried to the front. There was a big smile on his face. He was in his fifties, short, and gray-haired. Tony wore his usual uniform: a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and gray pants.

  “Liz, Sam, it’s been too long!” he said and shook our hands. Sam and I had been to the Tipsy Cow many times.

  “Good to see you, Tony,” Sam replied, smiling.

  “You’re looking good, Tony,” I added.

  Tony shrugged. “My wife has me on a diet.” He leaned closer. “No cake, cookies, or bread. It’s brutal.”

  “You’re getting back to your fighting weight, though,” Sam commented. As a young man, Tony had been an amateur boxer.

  “I’m getting there, thanks. You want a table or booth?” he asked.

  “Booth, please,” I replied.

  “You got it. Follow me.” Tony grabbed two menus and led us to a booth on the left. “There you go,” he said, placing the menus on the table. “Sissy will be right over to take your order.” Sissy was a long-time waitress at the Tipsy Cow.

  “Hey Tony, when you have a few minutes, could we talk to you about Steven Meagher?” I asked, sliding into the booth across from Sam.

  “Sure, sure. I can talk now. You’re working that case?” Tony planted his feet in a balanced position and folded his arms.

  I quickly turned on the voice recorder
application on my cell phone and put it down on the table.

  “We are,” Sam replied. “We heard Meagher ate lunch here the day he died.”

  “He did. He came early for lunch. I told the police all this but I can tell you too,” Tony replied.

  “How early did he get here?” I asked.

  “Around 11:15 a.m. Steve usually came in around 12:30 p.m. Sometimes later.”

  “How was his mood?” I followed up.

  “He seemed happier than usual. He even hugged Sissy,” replied Tony.

  “You called him Steve? You’re the first person I’ve met who didn’t call him by his last name,” I said.

  Tony’s eyebrows shot up and he shrugged. “A lot of people didn’t like Steve, but we got along. We both grew up poor and made something of our lives. I think we connected because of that.”

  “He told you about his childhood?” asked Sam.

  “Sure. Over the years we talked about a lot of things.”

  Sam nodded. “Did Meagher come in by himself that day?”

  Tony shifted slightly. “He walked in by himself, but he met a woman.”

  “A woman? Did you know her?” I asked.

  Tony shook his head. “No, I didn’t recognize her.”

  “What did she look like?” asked Sam.

  “She was a blonde. I think she was in her thirties. It was hard to see her face because she wore a floppy hat and big sunglasses. She arrived first and sat in a booth over there.” Tony waved to the booths across the room.

  “They had lunch together?” asked Sam.

  “Not exactly. She drank some coffee. Steve came in and sat with her. They talked for a while. Then she got up and left. Sissy said Steve looked angry when he spoke to the woman, but I didn’t see that because I was up front. After he ate, he came up front to pay and we chatted. He was pretty jovial when he left.”

  “Did Meagher say anything about where he was going?” I asked.

  “No, not a word,” Tony replied.

  “Did he have his uniform on?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, same as always. You should talk to Sissy. She served him that day.”

  “Thanks Tony. We will,” I replied turning off the voice recorder.

  Tony stopped and talked to Sissy. She was a tall blonde in her forties. When she came to our booth, she agreed to talk to us after we finished lunch. We both ordered salads and once they arrived, we concentrated on eating.

  “That hit the spot,” I commented after cleaning my plate.

  “Sure did,” Sam agreed, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

  Sissy materialized at the side of the booth. “Dessert?” she asked.

  “No, thanks. Just coffee for me,” I replied.

  “Could I have a cup of hot water, please?” Sam asked.

  Sissy didn’t miss a beat. “You bet,” she replied and cleared the table.

  She returned with our drinks and placed the check in the center of the table. Then Sissy walked over to the older couple’s table. Sam picked up the check and put some money on top of it.

  “Lunch is on me,” he said and smiled.

  “Thank you, Sam Nolan. I’ve got the tip,” I replied and smiled back. I knew it was a business expense but it felt good to be treated to lunch.

  Sissy reappeared and picked up the check and money. “Change back?” she asked.

  Sam shook his head. “No, but I could use a receipt.”

  Sissy winked at him. “Sure thing,” she replied and went to the register in front. I got a five dollar bill from the wallet in my messenger bag and put it on the table.

  When Sissy returned with the receipt, we asked if she had time to talk about Steven Meagher. After a glance at the older couple lingering over coffee, she said, “Sure. What’s up?” I started the voice recording application on my phone again.

  “Tony mentioned that Meagher met a woman for lunch the last time he ate here,” Sam said.

  Sissy nodded and her dyed blonde hair bounced. “Yeah, he did. The woman arrived first and sat in the booth over there. She ordered coffee.” Sissy turned and pointed at a booth that was empty.

  “Did you know her?” I asked.

  “No, I never saw her before. She was a strange one, though,” Sissy replied.

  “Strange? How so?” I asked.

  Sissy struggled for words. “She looked like she was wearing a disguise. She wore a blonde wig, floppy felt hat, and big sunglasses. She kept the sunglasses on all the time she was here and it wasn’t exactly sunny in here. Her makeup looked heavy and she used bright red lipstick. She also wore those thin driving gloves.”

  “You’re sure it was a wig?” I asked.

  “Definitely,” Sissy replied. “I know a wig when I see one.”

  “She didn’t take the gloves off?” I asked.

  “No, she kept them on. Never took them off.”

  “Did she talk at all?” Sam asked.

  Sissy shook her head. “No, aside from ordering the coffee she didn’t say anything. I tried to make small talk but she didn’t reply. It was weird.”

  “Any jewelry?” I asked.

  “Not that I saw.”

  “So you couldn’t see if she wore earrings?” I pressed.

  “No, the wig hid her entire head.”

  “What else was she wearing?” Sam asked.

  Sissy frowned. “She wore a beige jacket, plain gray sweatshirt, and jeans. She had on running shoes of some sort.”

  “So she sat drinking coffee and then Meagher arrived?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Steve was earlier than usual. I was up front when he came in. He was in a great mood. He chatted with us up front. Then he went back to the booth and sat opposite the woman.”

  “Did Meagher and the woman act like a couple?” I asked.

  Sissy shook her head and glanced at the older couple again.

  “No, I didn’t get that impression at all. In fact, I don't think they liked each other. I could feel...tension when I took his order. They just sat there sort of glaring at each other. And later they seemed to be arguing, but in low voices. No yelling, you know?”

  Sam and I both nodded. “Did you hear anything they said?” asked Sam.

  “Not exactly. I was bringing Steve his burger and fries when I heard his voice, but it sounded like a recording. When I reached their booth, they both looked angry and the woman was talking in a low voice,” Sissy replied. “I walked up and put his order and the check on the table. The woman stopped talking and Steve thanked me. I walked a couple of tables over and heard the woman talking again. When I turned to look, she got up and walked out fast. Steve’s face was red and if looks could kill, that woman would have been dead.”

  “She left without paying?” Sam asked.

  “Oh no. I brought the check after I poured her coffee. She left a five dollar bill on the table,” Sissy replied. “It was more than enough for the coffee and tip.”

  “How tall was she?” I asked.

  “I’m 5’6” tall and she was shorter than me. I’d say 5’3” or 5’4” tall,” Sissy replied.

  I nodded. “You have a great memory, Sissy. What happened after she left?”

  “Let’s see. I remember Steve ate part of his lunch. Then he talked on his cell phone. After that, he finished his burger and walked up front. He chatted with Tony for a while and then he left.”

  Sissy paused and then sighed. “It’s kind of sad. That day was probably the happiest I ever saw Steve. When he came in, he hugged me. Then when I checked his booth, I found money for his lunch. But he also left me a forty-dollar tip. He was a good guy but he never tipped me that much before.”

  “Anything else happen that was unusual?” I asked.

  Sissy nodded. “A couple of things. I walked up front when Steve left the restaurant and could see him through the window. He walked to an old white cargo van, which was odd. Steve was Mr. Flashy and normally drove a red Lexus. I even pointed it out to Tony.”

  “What was the other thing?” Sam asked.


  “Right after that, I went to get my glasses from my car. My contacts were bothering me and I wanted to pop them out. So I hurried out the front door and around to my car. I always park it in a spot on the side toward the front. Two things happened. I heard a car engine running across from me. I also saw Steve leaving the lot and turning left on the highway.”

  “What happened then?” I asked.

  “A silver Chevy backed out of its spot across from me. I only got a quick look, but it was the woman who met Steve. Same sunglasses, hat, and blonde wig. I watched her drive fast to the front of the lot and turn left on the highway. It looked like she was following him.”

  “The woman didn't see you?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t think so. At least, she never looked at me.”

  I felt a surge of hope. “Did you get a plate number on the Chevy?”

  “Of course not. It happened too fast,” Sissy replied.

  “What kind of Chevy?” Sam asked.

  Sissy’s eyes lit up. “A 4-door SUV. It was one of those smaller SUVs for women. Very nice looking.”

  “Sissy, did you call the police once you heard Meagher had died?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No. We first heard about Steve’s death from some customers the day after he passed. They said he’d been found dead at his cabin, but nobody knew how Steve had died.”

  “How did the customers learn about his death?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

  Sissy sighed. “They found out about it through the Mystic Grove rumor mill. There was nothing in the newspaper, so Tony called a sheriff’s deputy he knew and confirmed the death. But he still couldn’t find out how Steve had died. Tony and I talked about it later. We thought Steve might have had a heart attack or an accident. That Friday we learned it was a suspected homicide so Tony called the cops. They talked to him on my day off and he never mentioned me. I was happy because I didn't want to get involved with the cops.”

  “Why did you agree to talk to us?” Sam asked.

  Sissy shrugged. “You’re regulars and Tony vouched for you. He said you weren’t cops. Also, a part of me wants to help Steve.”