GG01 - Sudden Anger

by Jack Parker

  There were three girls in the pool when he walked out onto the patio. Ken called out and waved, and they pulled themselves out of the water and came running up. He was glad they wrapped towels around themselves before they sat down, it would make it easier for him to concentrate.

  "Lieutenant Freeman, these are my friends Shawna and Cheryl," Gracie said as she pointed to each in turn. "And this is Lieutenant Freeman, the one I've talked about so much."

  Ken shook hands with the two friends and said it was nice to meet them. The girls giggled. "So you ladies know all about me," he said, winking at them.

  Cheryl said, "Gracie's told us all about the investigation. Your name did come up a few times."

  "Well, that's why I'm here now," Ken told them. "I thought Gracie would want to hear what I've found out today. Gracie's been asking some good questions, I gather she's been sharing with you as well."

  Cheryl nodded while Shawna said, "Absolutely! She's gonna help you solve the case, and we're helping her."

  Gracie dipped her head, suddenly a little bashful. "I just thought I might be able to find some clue, or make sense of one you found, that's all."

  "Gracie." Ken waited until she'd made eye contact with him before continuing. "Don't sell yourself short, young lady. It never hurts to have someone else think about a problem. And you're absolutely right, you might see something that I've overlooked. You know your father very well, and I've got to rely on what everyone else tells me about him. What I'm trying to say is, you might see something that's out of place with his character where I'd overlook it."

  "She knows the other suspects, too," Cheryl put in.

  "Unless it's a stranger. What do you think, Lieutenant?" asked Shawna.

  "I'll be honest with you – I don't know what to think yet," Ken told them. "As I'm sure you've discussed among yourselves, nothing seems to make sense. Yet. I cannot see how someone could make three attempts at murder and not leave us something to go on. We either haven't found the right clue yet, or we're not seeing the one we have. So, would you like to hear what I've learned today?"

  "Yes!" they all said in unison.

  "Well, first I spoke to your father's attorney, Gracie. Your father had signed a pre-nuptial before he married his current wife."

  Three heads nodded knowingly. "I thought so," Gracie said.

  "What's she get?" Shawna asked boldly.

  Ken grinned and shook his head. "You know I can't tell you that! But I can say that she will inherit more money under the terms of the will than if she'd divorced him."

  "But she couldn't have done it!" Cheryl cried.

  "Not without help," Shawna reminded.

  "I understand that you can't give me the details, that's private stuff," Gracie began.

  "'Privileged'," Shawna corrected.

  "Yeah, 'privileged'. I guess my brothers and I will inherit something. Does anyone else? I mean, it would give them a motive," Gracie said.

  "Let me just say that your Aunt Jeanine won't be pleased with her inheritance," Ken said wryly.

  "Well, duh," Gracie said. "If you gave her a million dollars she'd just be mad 'cause she didn't get two. What about Bill? He and Dad have been friends forever, did he get anything?"

  "I'm not at liberty to say." Ken was pretty sure Gracie was smart enough to figure out that meant 'no'. "Do you have reason to believe he thought he might receive a bequest from your father?"

  "No," Gracie answered. "He never said anything about it to me. I know he's not in great financial shape, but he didn't talk to me about it. Mostly Bill and I talk about environmental stuff."

  "Speaking of money, I did some research into everyone's financial background. I assume you know your aunt is in bad shape," Ken told her.

  "She's always whining about not having enough money, but is she really in trouble?" asked Gracie.

  "She buys those silly fake fingernails but dresses like a bag lady," Shawna said. "If she had any extra money she'd at least buy new tacky pantsuits!"

  "I'm afraid so," Ken told her. "I don't want to worry you, but her rent's past due."

  "Again, probably," Gracie said.

  "And she spends the day playing bingo?" Cheryl asked incredulously.

  "She's convinced she'll hit the jackpot and her troubles will be over," Gracie responded.

  "Gracie," Ken began. "Do you think she really was playing bingo on Tuesday?"

  Gracie glanced at her friends for confirmation, then looked back to Ken. "Yes, I do. It's in her character, like you said a few minutes ago. It's also in her character to beg for a loan. It's not like her to get money by doing anything more than just talking. And in spite of the way she talks, she's real big on family; I can't see her hurting her brother, except maybe with words."

  "Can I be honest with you, Gracie?" Ken asked. At her nod he continued. "I can't picture your aunt doing anything quietly! If she had shot at him she'd darned well be telling him why at full volume. The neighbors might not have heard, but anyone in the garage would – and I'd bet that Bixby's staff would've heard the commotion all the way up to the big house. Someone would have told us about a loud argument."

  Everyone laughed at that.

  "Unfortunately it doesn't mean she's not still a suspect. Desperate people can do things out of character," Ken told them. "Your step-mother was totally dependent on your father. She will inherit some money, but of course that gives her a very good motive."

  Ken paused, trying to figure out how much to say. He did his best to keep people's secrets, well, secret if he could. If it had no bearing on the case he'd rather not embarrass them.

  "Which gives Cindy the same motive," Gracie said into the silence.

  Ken looked at her in surprise. "You knew about them?"

  "Not for sure until just a little while ago," she said. "I thought I'd figured it out Tuesday night. But when we got here today Jennifer was going on about how lonesome she was here in the house, so I suggested Cindy stay for a few days and eventually we just all admitted we knew what was going on."

  "I apologize, Gracie. I wasn't trying to hold out on you, just didn't want to embarrass her. So, yes, that gives Cindy motive also. She keeps her bills paid, but that's about it. She would seem to benefit from Jennifer's inheritance."

  "'S OK," Gracie said. "So, who else did you check up on?"

  "Your mother, of course. She's doing well, by the way. The friend, Conover, could stand an infusion of cash but isn't in any financial trouble. And your mother's boyfriend is in good financial shape, too. But his daughter has some serious money issues."

  "It doesn't surprise me that Candy would need money," Gracie said. "I've met her a few times, all she can talk about is the latest styles – and boys, of course." She looked at Ken as if wondering whether to say something. "I think she drinks quite a bit. I know Clay's worried about her. But I can't see what motive she'd have; as far as I know she's never met Dad."

  "Of course he's worried," Ken replied. "That's what fathers do."

  "Too much sometimes!" Shawna said darkly.

  "So, what else did you find out?" Gracie asked.

  "Well, I looked over your father's car. Besides the two bullet holes there was a long scratch down the passenger side. Would you happen to know if that had happened before Tuesday?"

  Gracie shook her head. "Dad's car was in the garage for the party, and..." she stopped suddenly, a tear leaking from her eyes. "That was the last time I saw him."

  Cheryl reached over to pat Gracie's hand.

  Gracie sniffled and continued in a slightly choked voice. "Dad kept his car spotless. If he'd scratched the paint he'd have had it fixed, that same day if possible."

  "So if he'd spilled something on the seat would he have cleaned it up immediately?" Ken asked. "Would he maybe have waited until he got home to do it?"

  "Immediately," Gracie said. "He'd pull over and take care of it. Or make whoever spilled it clean it up. We've all had to do that more than once. What did he spill?"

  "Just some coffe
e and pastry crumbs. They were on the passenger seat, like maybe he'd put a bag there and it leaked. If he's that particular I'm wondering if that was why he'd come home that morning, to clean the car seat," Ken said.

  "I doubt it," Gracie told him.

  The patio doors slid open and Justin and Zack exploded out of them and onto the patio.

  "Ooh, a little girl talk?" Justin asked sarcastically. "Can we listen in?"

  Zack spotted the policeman and stopped suddenly. "Oh, hi, Sir," he said.

  Justin's head whipped around, and for just a second his eyes got big as he realized who the 'sir' was. He turned back to Zack and said, "Don't mind us, we were, uh, just going swimming."

  Zack said, "Yeah, right. Swimming."

  The boys turned to their right and dashed to the changing room as of afraid Ken might stop them.

  Ken thought about telling Gracie he'd found her brother's marijuana right where she said it should be, but decided against it. "I did find one important clue."

  "What?" the three girls asked breathlessly.

  "It seems your neighbor..." Ken nodded towards George's house to the east. "Made a complaint about 'some boys' shooting at squirrels over here last year. I sent an officer to see if he could find any of the slugs, and he managed to dig a couple out of the tree trunk."

  All three girls were leaning forward in their chairs, knowing he was drawing the story out and eager to hear the end.

  "They were a match to the fatal bullet, and the three bullets fired in the attempted murders." He'd tried to say it in a steady tone, but didn't quite succeed.

  "Are you saying my father was shot with his own gun?" Gracie asked in a stunned voice.

  "It does appear that way," Ken told her. "Remember that the gun was missing when your step-mother reported the burglary. My guess – and that's all it is right now – is that the thief used the gun to shoot at your father, then took it with him when he fled the scene. He (or she) tried again at the garage, and again out at Bixby's."

  "But you're no closer to knowing who took it," Shawna remarked.

  "I'm afraid not," Ken said. "But that doesn't mean I won't find out. You ladies have a good weekend, I'll keep in touch."

  CHAPTER 18

  Gracie and her friends were talking about the new info when Justin and Zack emerged from the changing room in their swim trunks and ran, yelling, to the pool. Boys and girls did their best to ignore each other. But the girls weren't getting anywhere solving the crime, and eventually the noise was too much for them.

  "I can't hear myself think," Cheryl declared.

  "And for sure I don't want to go back in the pool now, it's full of Zoo Time cooties," Shawna said with mock disgust. "I think it's time to go. Want me to take you home, Gracie?"

  Gracie thought about it for a minute before telling her, "Nah, I still need to talk to Justin. I'll call Mom to come get me, then I can tell her I did it. But I think I'll go ahead and change, I don't feel like swimming any more either."

  They got up and went to the changing room. Realtor George next door would've called it a 'half bath' since it had a lavatory and toilet as well as storage for suits and towels, and pegs along one wall to hang wet clothes on. It had been designed to keep people from tracking water through the house when they needed to dry off, or use the bathroom. It wasn't small as bathrooms went, but with three teenagers it was a bit crowded.

  Cheryl scooted closer to a wall to make room. In the process she stepped on a pile of jeans left on the floor. "Eww!" she said.

  Shawna stooped to pick the jeans up, carefully using only the tips of thumb and finger. "They're Justin's," she informed the others as she held them up. "See the ripped knee? But, icky, what's on the pocket?"

  Gracie moved closer to look. The front pocket had been pulled partially out and there was a dark smear on the white fabric. She shrugged. "Pocket's torn, too. Something disgusting, who knows? Give 'em to me, I'll hang 'em up."

  Shawna made a show of throwing the jeans away from herself, with the result that they hit Gracie in the face. "Oh, P-U," Gracie cried. "Whatever that is stinks."

  "Sorry, Gracie, didn't mean to hit you," Shawna said contritely. "It's probably grass. Your dumb brother probably put a half-smoked joint in his pocket so he could finish it later."

  "Doesn't smell like pot," Gracie told her. "It smells sharp and bitter. Grass smells sweet."

  "Well when you talk to your brother be sure to tell him he's a slob," Cheryl said.

  Gracie hung up the boys' clothes and they changed out of their suits. Cheryl and Shawna left and Gracie sat on the patio thinking. Now that her friends were gone Justin and Zack decided it was safe to come out of the pool. Gracie managed to catch Justin and tell him about the funeral. He told her he'd rather Mom picked him up, he didn't want to ride with Jennifer. And he whined about having to wear a suit, but agreed he'd be ready. Then he and Zack disappeared somewhere, Gracie didn't really care where.

  Probably up to his room to get stoned, she thought. They were likely going out to the pool house for the same reason, at least until they saw the lieutenant sitting here. I hope he had half a joint in that pocket and flushed it down the loo when he saw the cop. Serve him right!

  That black smear had looked like something burned, but that torn pocket hadn't smelled like pot. Her mother was right, the smell was distinctive. Why would you put something burned in your pocket? She realized she was equating 'burned' with 'hot', but that didn't have to be the case.

  With all the talk about guns lately she had them on her mind, and 'hot and burned' applied to them too. She always thought of them as being hot immediately after they were fired, and the cops on TV always talked about the burned gasses that firing a gun produced. The proverbial smoking gun. The bad guys in the movies would shoot at the good guys and then stick their gun down the front of their pants. Wouldn't that be uncomfortable? If you didn't have a handy holster (and the crooks never seemed to) wouldn't it be better to put the gun in your pocket?

  Suddenly Gracie sat up straight in her chair. Would a gun – even a small gun – fit in a pocket? It had that loop around the trigger that might get in the way. If you jammed it in quickly might it not tear the pocket? And if it was still smoking wouldn't that escaping gas get all over the lining? She had no idea what that gas might smell like, but from what she'd heard it stunk. Could Justin have shoved a smoking gun in his pocket?

  "That's crazy," she told herself. Justin wanted to get Dad's attention, not kill him. Well, Dad did seem to think he'd been taking money from the office. She remembered the conversation she'd overheard about the trap. Had Dad caught him red-handed and Justin grabbed the gun to shoot at him? Maybe just to scare him off?

  That would mean the shot would've been fired in the office though, not the den. Maybe Justin had taken the gun when he stole the cash. Probably wanted to kill some more squirrels. When Dad came home he'd found money and gun gone and Justin home. There would've been a big fight, for sure.

  But Justin was at school all day Tuesday. Or was he? Another memory surfaced; another message she was supposed to give to her brother. Tina had said Justin had promised her some weed if she'd tell Zack she'd gone to lunch with him on Tuesday. To make Zack jealous? To make Justin sound like he wasn't a loser? Or because Justin needed to prove he hadn't been at home during lunch?

  Gracie had seen Justin talking to Tina after his lunch hour, he might very well have realized he could use her to provide himself with an alibi. Tina had seemed to think it was Zack she was supposed to tell, but what if Justin had meant it to get back to the police? Justin would tell the police he'd been at lunch with Tina and Zack would say she'd told him the same thing. It would likely cost Justin some more marijuana, but Tina would doubtless lie to the cops too.

  Except that Dad had just been unconscious and Justin hadn't needed the excuse. It made perfect sense; now that he didn't think anyone cared where he'd been he'd reneged on the deal and hadn't paid Tina off.

  The pieces were starting to fit
together in Gracie's mind. Justin had come home during lunch so he could steal some more cash from Dad's desk drawer. Since Zack was driving him to school these days that meant he had to walk home, and the neighbors wouldn't have seen a car in the driveway. Even if they'd seen Justin they wouldn't have thought anything about it, and might not even remember seeing him because it wasn't unusual.

  Dad had come home unexpectedly, he must've wanted something from his office. Didn't matter what. He saw the paperclip had been moved and knew Justin had taken the money.

  Wait a minute, Gracie thought. Was she positive Justin had taken the cash? Jennifer wasn't his mother, she wouldn't care if he was stealing; why had Dad told her about the trap? Did he suspect she was taking money too? Well, it wouldn't be any big surprise if she was. Saving it up, or just giving it to Cindy. Dad was cagey, he'd want to know who it was for sure. So he'd have set two traps and only told Jennifer about one, maybe told Justin about the other. Which meant that he would've known that Justin was the thief, at least this time.

  OK, Dad comes out of the office to find Justin at home, maybe in his room. They had a big hairy fight; no matter where it started it had ended up in the den. Justin had all he could take – and he had the gun. He fired it at Dad, but Gracie still couldn't believe he'd meant to hurt him.

  So what had happened next? The bullet hadn't hit Dad, it had gone through that book. Oh, yeah – the coroner had said there was a big bump on Dad's head. He'd dodged the bullet and somehow fell, hit his head and been knocked out. Justin must've been scared stiff, maybe even thought he had killed him.

  He'd stuck the gun in his pocket and – but wait, he was in school later that afternoon so he couldn't have fired those other shots. Thank goodness! He must've put the gun down after he realized his pocket was torn (maybe the gun fell back out?), and she hoped he'd had the smarts to wipe his fingerprints off first. Though of course it turned out not to be necessary in the end.