The Silver Anniversary Murder

by Lee Harris

  “Yes. He made a copy. He asked something that I think got me in some trouble.”

  My heart did something funny. “What was that?”

  “He wanted to know where I worked. I told him about the bookstore, and he asked if there was anyplace else. I used to work for a drugstore in Chicago, just part-time behind the counter. I’m not a pharmacist.”

  “Did he tell you why he asked?”

  “To see if I had access to chloroform.” Her voice shook. “My mother was killed with chloroform. He thinks I stole chloroform last year and saved it to kill my mother.”

  She asked to go to the motel and I dropped her there. “Do you have your bill from the last time you stayed here?” I asked as she was getting out of the car.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Any phone calls you made would be on it. So if you called your accomplice, there’d be a record.”

  “I’ll find it,” she said. “I’ll call you later.”

  As I drove home, it occurred to me she could have made calls from the lobby, as I had when we were in Madison. Well, let the sheriff’s people get to work and check out every call made from the lobby during the time of her first visit.

  I called Arnold and caught him before he left for lunch. He groaned when I explained what had happened and assured me he would represent Ariana. Then I sat down and tried to think what had made Joe Fox suspect her.

  If she had an accomplice, her ability to prove she was in Chicago at the estimated time of the murders didn’t matter. In fact, she would have arranged to be there. She had a key to the Brinkers’ apartment, which she could have copied and handed over to the killer. Apartment keys were easily duplicated in any hardware store. She knew many of her parents’ secrets and could compromise them. She knew where her parents worked and might even have a key to their car.

  All of that had to do with means and opportunity and, taken together, it made me uneasy. But what would be her motive? From Joe Fox’s point of view, the Brinkers might have a ton of money stashed somewhere, perhaps legally in banks and locked boxes, and she wanted it. And since he had no idea that I had been with her when she uncovered the suitcase, he wouldn’t know what a surprise the find had been. To me it seemed unlikely that Ariana would have uncovered that treasure in front of me if she knew what she was digging up. Even if I had been sworn to silence, she would suspect that under oath I would tell the truth, given that I was asked the right questions.

  But Joe Fox knew nothing of this. He had two dead bodies, a daughter who hadn’t turned up for a few weeks after they died, and then, when she did, she had snubbed her nose at the police.

  Last night, Joe Fox had given me the name and apartment number of the person who had seen the Brinkers loading their SUV. I telephoned the number, got an answering machine, and hung up. I would go over there tonight.

  I called Jack and told him what had happened.

  “You know, the pressure’s on Joe to close this case. He has no one and then a daughter shows up. Why didn’t she come forward sooner? If she had some guy working with her, she didn’t have to be there. He can find all kinds of reasons to consider her a suspect.”

  “What’s your take on it?” I asked bluntly.

  He didn’t answer for a couple of seconds. “I don’t think she did it, Chris, but I’ve been wrong. I think Joe’s a damn good detective, but we’ve both seen him make a terrible mistake before. I would believe Sister Joseph over almost anyone else I know, and he gave her a hard time when that girl got killed a couple of years ago. Still, he can’t let Ariana off the hook just because she seems like a really nice young person who’s lost her parents.”

  “She worked for a pharmacy, Jack, a year or so ago.”

  “Shit.”

  “Why would they use chloroform on one and a gun on the other?”

  “Chloroform’s quiet and, as we’ve seen, sometimes undetectable. A strong guy could hold her mother down, but whether he could do the same with her father is questionable. And then there’s the question of noise. The killer may have come prepared to use more than one method, depending on the circumstances. He’d rather do it cleanly and quietly.”

  I heard shouting at his end. “Gotta go.” And he hung up abruptly.

  Before Eddie and I left for the pool, I called Ariana at the motel. “Will you join us for dinner?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said in a lackluster voice. “I’m not feeling very up.”

  “It’s your choice, Ariana. We’d love to have you.”

  “OK, yes. Thanks. You’re good for my spirits. I’m renting a car so I don’t have to ruin your life every time I have to go somewhere.”

  “You’re not ruining my life,” I assured her.

  “Even so. I think I know how to drive to your house.”

  “Six o’clock OK?”

  “Perfect.”

  20

  Ariana arrived with a small present for Eddie, a snow globe from the hotel’s gift shop. Watching her give it to him, I thought, How could this lovely young woman have killed her parents? She was filled with kindness and warmth. She was thoughtful and considerate. The whole situation angered me.

  After Eddie was in bed, the three of us sat around and talked. Ariana took her wallet out of her bag and removed some snapshots from a plastic sleeve. “I forgot I had this,” she said, handing a photo to Jack, who was closer.

  “Your parents’ wedding picture,” he said.

  “Mom gave it to me. I don’t remember when. If you look at the right side, you’ll see where it’s been trimmed.”

  He ran a finger over the edge. “Yeah, I see it. Either someone was standing next to your mother, or some other piece of identification was there.” He passed it to me.

  Once again the similarity between mother and daughter struck me. “How old was she when she married?” I asked.

  “A little older than I am now. And Daddy was older than that. Mom had worked for a while.”

  “Doing what?”

  “She may have taught. I’m not sure she was ever clear about it.”

  Once again a curtain veiled her mother’s past. “Ariana, why did it take so long for you to come to Oakwood to look for your parents?”

  “I—I was busy.”

  “Doing what?” Jack asked.

  It was obvious she didn’t want to say. “There was a guy in my life.”

  “And?” You don’t get a gold shield accepting an answer like that.

  “And we were, you know, engrossed in each other.”

  “For how long?”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “Can you give us his name, address, and phone number?”

  “I can’t.”

  We both sat looking at her, saying nothing.

  “I can give you his name,” she said. “But I don’t know where he is. He took off for South America and I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “What’s in South America?” Jack persisted.

  “It’s an archeological dig in Guatemala. He’s an interesting guy and I was really taken with him. I knew he was going away, but we, you know, got involved.”

  And time just passed, I thought, and she didn’t think of her parents.

  “Did he room with anyone?” I asked.

  “He had a roommate, but not on a regular basis.”

  “Is he coming back to that apartment after the dig?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know if he knows.”

  “Give us his name then, and his last address,” Jack said.

  She took a little notebook from her bag and wrote on a sheet of paper. She handed it to Jack, looking a little embarrassed.

  “What day did he leave?” he asked.

  She gave him an approximate date.

  “Then you came here soon after,” I said.

  “I kind of came back to my senses after he left and I realized I hadn’t heard from my parents for a while—since just before their anniversary. I started calling and they never answered. I got sca
red, especially because it was so long since the last time Mom had called.”

  “Do you mind if we check this out?” Jack asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m innocent. Why should I mind?”

  “Can we keep this picture of your parents?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. It’s my only copy. There’s a camera store near the motel. I went inside and they have one of those instant picture machines. I’ll make you a copy tomorrow.”

  I had used a machine like that once and I was impressed with the quality of the copy. “And a picture of yourself?” I said.

  She was on her guard. “What for?”

  “Just in case I need it.”

  “OK.”

  I looked at my watch. “I want to go over to the apartments and see if the man who saw your parents loading the SUV is at home.”

  “May I come, too?”

  “Sure, if you want to.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  I was pleased she had offered. It meant she wasn’t afraid of being recognized by this man, probably because she hadn’t been here. We took my car and drove over.

  The name Joe had given me was George Benson. I found his entrance and we went up a flight of stairs. A woman opened the door. I made the introductions, reminding her of the disappearance and murder of the two tenants.

  “The Mitchells, yes. I used to say hello to them. Come in.”

  The apartment was the same floor plan as the Brinkers’. We sat in the living room while Mrs. Benson went to fetch her husband.

  “Mrs. Brooks, hello,” he said, coming to join us. “I’m the one who saw the Mitchells loading their SUV. What can I do for you?”

  “This is Ariana, the Mitchells’ daughter.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Mr. Benson said soberly.

  I took out the sketches and a recent snapshot of her parents Ariana had found in her wallet. “Are these the people you saw loading the SUV?”

  He put his glasses on, sat on the sofa, and inspected the pictures. He nodded. “That’s her. I’m sure of it. I can’t be sure about the man. It was dark, remember, and I knew her a lot better than I knew him.”

  “How is that?”

  “We often left for work around the same time in the morning, and I’d see her getting into the driver’s seat. He was usually in the back. Sometimes he’d give me a wave, but I think he was more interested in the paper than in being social. Let’s just say she was more outgoing.”

  “So you’re only sure of the woman.”

  “I’d have to say so.”

  “Do you remember what you said to each other?”

  “Hmm. Something light. We were neighbors, not friends. And I’m always on the move. I don’t spend a lot of time making small talk. I must have come home late that night, and I was in a hurry to get upstairs and have some dinner. I probably said something about loading the furniture. No. Wait. You know what? I saw they were having a tough time with whatever they were putting in the back and I asked if I could help. She said, ‘That’s all right. We’re doing fine.’ That’s what we said. I remember it now.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I just continued on my way. I don’t think I ever saw them again.”

  Mrs. Benson had nothing to add. She knew who they were too but had never said anything more than hello to them. She said that to everyone, she told me. She tried to be friendly.

  We drove home. I returned the picture of Ariana’s parents and she agreed to have a copy made of that, too. The photographic paper on which copies were made had ample room for several snapshots. When I pulled into the driveway, she said good night and got in her rental car. Tomorrow she would take the train into the city and talk to Arnold Gold. We would talk when she got back to the motel.

  “I made some phone calls while you were gone,” Jack said. He flicked off the television set as I sat down.

  “To Chicago, I bet.”

  “No use waiting. This phone number Ariana gave us has been disconnected.”

  “This is the boyfriend who went to Guatemala?”

  “And his sometime roommate. Well, they’re both out of the apartment. There’s a forwarding number somewhere in Michigan. I tried that. The guy exists. I talked to his mother. As far as she knows, he’s in Guatemala.”

  “So Ariana really knew him.”

  “Looks like it, but Joe Fox could make a case that it was someone she knew couldn’t be contacted so she gave us this number.”

  “Jack, Joe Fox can make a case for any imaginary situation he chooses to cast doubt on. She gave us the name and number readily when you asked for it. And I can tell you the people we saw at the apartments definitely didn’t recognize her. I’m going to figure this out, if only to get her off the hook.”

  “You sound angry.”

  “I’ve been fuming since Joe intimated Ariana was a suspect.”

  “So what’s next?”

  “Ariana’s seeing Arnold tomorrow. She said she can get herself into the city and back. She’ll call when she’s back at the motel.”

  “And you?”

  “Do you remember your son is graduating from kindergarten on Wednesday?”

  “I sure as hell do. I’m taking the day off, remember.”

  “Good. And your folks are coming out.”

  “With a camera and tripod and video thing.”

  “Life has changed,” I said.

  “You bet it has.”

  21

  I heard from Arnold before Ariana called. As circumspect as ever, he told me only that he was going to represent her and that if she was called to talk to anyone official about the deaths of her parents, she would do it only when he was present. He did not anticipate that she would ever be charged, which relieved me greatly. I had no idea how much she had told him, but I knew how to be as circumspect as he and I added nothing to what he already knew.

  On Tuesday after lunch I called Jessie Brinker. She had nothing hard to report although she had made many phone calls.

  “Jessie, can you access old local newspapers? They may be on microfilm in the library or at the newspaper building itself. And I guess it’s possible they’re on-line as well.”

  “What do you need?”

  “A wedding announcement for Elaine Lysaught and Ronald Brinker. Maybe there’s even an article written about them that would mention names.”

  “I’ll look into it.”

  I gave her the date of the wedding and warned her that an announcement could appear in the issue of the day before or after, as well as on the date of the wedding. Maybe, I said, there was mention of a maid of honor or even a list of ushers and bridesmaids, if it was a big enough wedding. Some of those people might still live in the area. I hoped.

  I had intended to check the papers myself when we were in Portland, but we had rushed back to Madison after we heard the SUV was found there and I hadn’t had the chance. Now I would have to rely on secondhand information, but Jessie seemed sharp and eager to help.

  Ariana came over in late afternoon looking much better than when she had come out of Joe Fox’s office yesterday. Her smile was back. Arnold was wonderful, she said. He believed in her and had warned her not to say a word to the police if she wasn’t in his company.

  “And here are the pictures,” she said. “I had them made when I came back. You can cut them if you want. I can’t tell them from the originals.”

  I couldn’t either. I cut them carefully with my kitchen scissors. There were wide margins between them and I left them that way. I didn’t want to lose even the tiniest scrap of information.

  I told her about my conversation with Jessie.

  “That’s a great idea,” she said. “You know, I bet there was an article when my folks got married. My father’s parents were pretty important in the salmon industry. That’s the kind of thing that gets some notice in the papers.”

  “You’re right. Let’s see if Jessie comes up with something.”

  We talked about Arnold over
dinner and then, when Eddie seemed bored, we switched to his graduation. He had a new pair of summer pants and a short-sleeved shirt he could wear without a tie. He also had a new leather belt he had been saving for the event. Grandma and Grandpa were coming and would take us to lunch when the event was over. A graduation ceremony seemed more appropriate to eighth grade than kindergarten, but that’s the way it is now.

  Joe Fox called after dinner and said his investigators had located a U-Haul that had rented out a truck around the time I received the original phone call. A man came in, gave a cash deposit, and returned the truck several days later, paying cash. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but it could have been the killers. Only about a hundred miles had been clocked.

  “Did they respond to the sketches?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately, the person who rented out the truck moved away, so there was no one there who would recognize it. Not that they’d remember one face so many weeks later.”

  Big deal, I thought. Someone rented a U-Haul for a few days and paid cash. “Any more furniture turn up?”

  “We think a few pieces may have been dumped in an area where some homeless people congregate. Someone definitely dropped off a lot of clothes and they’re gone. No surprise there. You talk to the guy in the apartments who saw them loading that SUV?”

  “I did and I didn’t learn anything. He couldn’t even identify the man—said it was dark and he didn’t know him well.”

  “About what we heard. Keep me in mind if anything new turns up.”

  I said, “Ditto,” and hung up.

  The big graduation day arrived, along with my in-laws. As Jack had predicted, they came with enough photographic equipment to cover a huge wedding. We all sat together and I watched as parent after parent jumped to his feet as a child took the stage to perform. When Eddie came on, both Jack and Grandpa Brooks leaped up and began filming. I felt vaguely embarrassed. Jack took several still shots and sat down, but my father-in-law stood during the entire rendition of “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.” Eddie had a sweet soprano voice, and we had picked this Irish tune for the benefit of the grandparents.

  There were plenty of smiles and hugs when the ceremony was done. Every child came away with a certificate, and there were cookies and punch to enjoy. I was glad to have the opportunity to introduce Jack to the mothers I had met during the year. He had heard about them, as I heard about cops in his precinct or office, and I could see he was pleased to put faces to the names and stories.