by Kate Bell
“I see,” Alec said, and made a note.
Jane’s eyes went to the notebook. “What are you writing?”
“Details. Was there anyone that had a real problem with Todd?” he asked, pulling the notebook closer to himself.
“Yes. George Dillard. He’s the owner of the Gas and Go on Third. He came in a month or so ago and applied for a loan. His gasoline tanks had sprung a leak, and he needed the money to have them repaired. He didn’t get the loan, and he was mad!” Being able to shine a little light on someone else seemed to make her happy. She leaned back in her seat and relaxed.
“Did Todd make the decision on that?” Alec asked, making more notes.
“No, it has to go up the chain. But Todd can give his opinion on whether he thinks it’s a good idea to make the loan, and he told the loan department in Bangor that he didn’t think George was a good risk. Then he told George that he told the loan department that. George freaked,” she said.
“Why would he do that?” Alec asked, looking puzzled. “It seems like that would be confidential between him and the loan department. And foolish to say it.”
She shrugged. Her graying hair was long and curled and she pushed it back over her shoulder. I had always envied her hair, and I still did, even though it was graying now. The gray made her look distinctive.
“Todd was that way sometimes. You never knew what was going to come out of his mouth. When our lead teller, Patty Guzman, was pregnant with twins, he told her she was getting fat and she needed to lose weight or her husband would leave her. He knew she was pregnant. We had had a baby shower for her here at the bank. She went home crying.”
“Sounds like Todd really was a jerk,” I said. How could I have thought he was such a wonderful person? It just goes to show you that people aren’t always what they portray themselves to be.
She nodded, knowingly.
“Can you elaborate on George Dillard freaking?” Alec asked. I couldn’t believe he said that with a straight face.
She leaned forward in her chair. “He started screaming that Todd was a jerk. Well, jerk, was the nicest word he used to describe him. It was the noon rush hour, and we had a line of customers out to the front door, and George was in Todd’s office with the door open, and screaming. I was afraid he was going to have a stroke. George isn’t getting any younger. His face was beet red.”
Alec seemed to consider her for a moment before writing in his notebook. “Is there anything else you think we should know?”
She shrugged. “Nothing comes to mind. Just that Todd wasn’t what you thought he was.”
“Fine. Thank you for your time. Please send someone else in,” he said.
She left and Bob Payne appeared at the door. “I really don’t have anything to tell you that I haven’t already told you,” he said.
“Fine, come on in and have a seat,” Alec said.
I smiled at him.
Bob made a low groaning sound and came in and sat down. “This is a waste of time.”
“Can you tell me if there was anyone that had problems with Todd Spellman?” Alec asked, ignoring his comment.
“Like I said before, Todd was a jerk and no one that really knew him liked him.”
“So you’re saying that you had problems with him?” Alec asked, not looking up from his notebook.
“Look, I didn’t say that. I did my best to get along with the guy. He was my boss. But he had a way about him. He had one side he showed certain people, and another he showed to others,” Bob said. I could see small beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“Did you kill Todd Spellman?” Alec asked.
“What?” Bob said, his eyes bulging. “No! No, I never killed anyone! I swear! How can you think that?”
Alec smiled. “Calm down, Bob. No one’s accusing you of anything. It’s just a question I need to ask.”
Alec was having fun with Bob. I hadn’t seen this side of him before. It was all I could do to keep from giggling. Poor Bob didn’t find it humorous though. One of those small beads of sweat had morphed into a large bead and trickled down the side of his face. Alec had mercy on Bob a few minutes later and excused him.
After the fifth person had been interviewed, I began to have regrets about insisting I come with Alec. I was getting tired and hungry and everyone seemed to have the same story about Todd. He was a jerk. Shocking. He was always taking his ailing father everywhere with him and always seemed so engaged when he spoke to anyone.
“I hated Todd,” Patty Guzman said, and tears sprang to her eyes. “He was always making fun of me. He said I needed to shave. My face. Can I help it if I have hormone issues? I do the best I can to get rid of it!”
I handed her a Kleenex from the box on the desk and refrained from looking at Alec. She was number ten.
“I understand that he could be a difficult person to work for,” Alec said. “Can you think of anyone that might have wanted to hurt him?”
“Everyone!” she blurted out, dabbing at her eyes. “He was a terrible person! He called me three days after I gave birth and wanted to know when I was coming back to work! It was a Cesarean!”
I felt my eyes go wide. I was thankful I had never worked for Todd. I might have slugged him.
“I see,” Alec said and made more notes. He must have been close to getting writers’ cramp by that time.
Patty was our last interviewee. When we finished, I heaved a sigh of relief.
“Wow,” I whispered as we headed to Alec’s SUV.
“Wow is right. Like I told you, you never know a person like you think you do,” he said.
I got in the car and leaned back. There was a lot to process.
Chapter Twelve
“Here you go. You two enjoy yourselves,” the waitress said, setting two baskets of popcorn shrimp and a breadbasket down on the table.
My stomach growled as I reached for the breadbasket. “Sorry,” I said, and giggled.
“Food always tastes best when you’re hungry,” he said.
“That it does,” I answered. “So what do you make of what everyone said today?”
He gave a quick shake of his head. “That Todd was something else. But lots of people are ugly and mean and it doesn’t get them killed.”
“I guess it depends on if you come across the wrong person when you’re being mean. That can get you killed,” I said. And Todd had done it. I shuddered when I thought about it. It could have been someone I’ve dealt with at the grocery store or the bank or any other place.
“That it can,” he said. “Hopefully we’ll get something back from the lab in the next couple of days. We couldn’t come up with any clear fingerprints, but maybe there’s something else with the materials we sent to them.”
The shrimp was steaming hot and the best I had ever tasted. Alec was right about food tasting better when you’re hungry. Stan’s Crab Shack was filled almost to capacity. The Christmas shopping season was upon us and shoppers were taking a few minutes to rest in between stores and get something to eat.
“So tell me, how’s the blog coming? I haven’t heard you mention it in a while,” he said.
I looked up from my food. “Well,” I said slowly. “I think I might be done with it.”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “What do you mean, done?”
“I don’t know. I think Lucy might be right. It might be keeping me in a state of grieving. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. The only thing is, I’m not sure how to end it. I haven’t written anything substantial in several weeks and I feel like I’m abandoning people in their time of need.” There. I had said it. I felt guilty about ending the blog.
“Well, I can see how you might feel that way. After all, it’s been eight years, right? That’s a long time to do anything,” he said, sitting back in his seat. “Maybe you should take time to think it over?”
I nodded, thinking about it. “I suppose I can. But if the truth be told, I do feel like it’s time to end it. I’ve made a lot of online
friends through the blog. I feel like people need an explanation and I’m not sure how to give it.”
Maybe I had abandonment issues. But it felt like walking away from people that needed me. How could I do that?
“Maybe you could let them know ending it is a part of the process? Moving on is a part of the process, right? It isn’t healthy for anyone to stay in grief indefinitely,” he observed.
He was right. I knew he was. I needed to find a way to get over feeling like I was letting people down. “True,” I said.
“Hi, Allie!” I heard called from across the room.
We both looked up and saw Rebecca Holding waving at me. She had her six-year-old daughter, Sarah, in tow. I waved back as they wove their way around people to get to us. I got to my feet and gave them each a hug in turn and introduced them to Alec. I had babysat Rebecca when she was Sarah’s age and Thad had dated her sister in high school. Small towns.
“I don’t want to interrupt you two, but I saw you over here and thought I’d say hi. So, hi!” she said and giggled.
“Hi,” I said, and looked at the shopping bags on her arm. “Looks like you’re getting your Christmas shopping done early.”
“Oh, I try to every year, but it seems like I always forget something and end up in a rush on Christmas Eve,” she said. “Say, I heard you were at the Turkey Trot when Todd Spellman was shot. Wasn’t he the manager at the Bank of Maine?”
“Yes, he was,” I said and introduced her to Alec. “We were both there, as well as Thad. He was visiting with his new girlfriend for Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, tell him hello next time you see him. That must have been terrifying,” she said, shaking her head.
“Yes, it was. Poor Todd,” I answered.
She glanced over her shoulder quickly and then turned back to me. “Listen, Allie, I don’t mean to be a gossip or a snoop, but I heard Rudy Gallo was over at the Brass Rail, laughing it up over Todd’s death. Not that I would ever go to a bar, mind you, but occasionally my husband Bill stops off and has a beer there. He said Rudy said that Todd got what he deserved.” She leaned in toward me. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone deserves to be murdered, but if someone did, it would have to be Todd. He could be the nicest person or the meanest, depending on his mood.”
It took everything I had not to give Alec a look. “You know, I never experienced that with Todd, but I sure have heard the same thing. Did Rudy give any reason why he thought it was funny that Todd was murdered?”
“He told Bill that Todd had refused to give him a home loan. Laughed at his credit score, he did,” she said. “I guess he’s still bitter.”
“Wow. Yeah, I can see where that would make a person mad. But mad enough to murder someone?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Who knows with people these days. Not that I actually think he did it, mind you.”
“That’s true,” I agreed. “It’s going to take some time for the police to sort this thing out.”
She smiled at me. “Well, I’ve got to go. I think my order should be ready. I’m beat from all this shopping and I’m going to take an order to go. Bill’s at home and he has got to be starving by now.”
“I’ll see you around, Rebecca. You too, Sarah,” I said as they left.
I turned my head back to look at Alec so fast you’d have thought I’d have gotten whiplash. “Small town!” I whispered.
A small smile played on Alec’s lips. “Small towns are very different from larger ones, aren’t they?”
I nodded. “I don’t know how I missed the fact that Todd was hated by so many people. He always seemed so nice.”
“Some people are masters at making you think what they want you to think about them. Who is Rudy Gallo and do you have any idea why he wouldn’t like Todd Spellman?” he asked. “Besides being laughed at for having a low credit score? That sounds kind of flimsy.”
“Rudy owns the plumbing supply store on Main Street. You have to take small town gossip with a grain of salt sometimes. Are we going to go talk to him?”
Alec had that pen and notebook out again. I swear it was attached to him somewhere and appeared the second he thought about making a note. He wrote Rudy’s name in the book and closed it.
“I would imagine I will at some point,” he said. He looked across the room and narrowed his eyes.
I turned in the direction he was looking and saw Sam Bailey had just entered the restaurant. Alec hadn’t mentioned having any issues with Sam, but if I had to guess by the look on his face, he did.
Sam looked in our direction and waved and made his way over. He was still in uniform, his belly hanging over his belt, and maneuvered around the people waiting to pick up takeout meals at the register. Sam had been the chief of police for fifteen years, but he still wore a uniform like the rest of the officers in patrol cars. I wasn’t sure why, as the uniforms didn’t look terribly comfortable, but I couldn’t remember him ever wearing anything else.
“Alec,” he said nodding at him, then turning to me. “Hello, Allie, how are you doing?”
I smiled at him. Sam had always been pleasant to me. Jennifer and his daughter had been best friends in junior high, but had drifted apart in high school. “I’m fine, Sam, how are you?”
“Very good. The weather has changed and is a little warmer than it should be for this time of year,” he said. He glanced at Alec, but kept speaking to me. “How’s that blog you’re writing? It’s a blog, isn’t it? I seem to forget what all people are doing these days.”
“Yes, it’s a blog on grief,” I said. “It’s doing well. I’ve enjoyed writing it.”
He nodded. “You know, I’ve had some reports that I’ve had a woman police officer accompanying my detective on interviews, but I haven’t had a woman police officer since Michelle Smith retired last year. I’m not sure who they could be talking about.”
I sensed Alec stiffen, more than saw it happen. I smiled at Sam again. “That is odd, isn’t it?” My heart pounded in my chest, but I wasn’t going to give Alec away.
He smiled back at me. “I’ll have to check into that.”
“How did you like the popcorn balls I dropped by the station last month, Sam?” I asked. Sam had a sweet tooth as big as his head and maybe a reminder of my wares would smooth things over. It was always at the back of my mind that Alec might get into trouble by allowing me to ride along with him, and it looked like this might be it.
“They were the best popcorn balls I’ve ever tasted,” he said with a smile.
“You know, I’ve had you on my mind, Sam. I was thinking about making you a batch of persimmon cookies. No one makes persimmon cookies like I do. I’ll have to bring you a batch,” I said. The way to a man’s heart is his stomach and if I could get him to feel favorably toward me, maybe it would keep Alec out of trouble.
Sam gave me a genuine smile. “Well, that’s real thoughtful of you, Allie. I would appreciate that.”
“Well you be expecting to see me stop by real soon with those, then,” I said cheerfully.
“I will. I’ve got to be going now,” he said, and straightened up. He glanced at Alec. “Alec,” he said, and then sauntered off.
We both watched him go. I turned to Alec once he was at the cash register giving his order, and out of earshot.
I sighed loudly. “I’m sorry. I knew there was a chance you would get in trouble for letting me tag along.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have allowed it.”
“Maybe persimmon cookies will get you off the hook,” I said, and gave him a cheesy grin. But he wasn’t cheering up. Something told me he was having trouble at work and didn’t want to talk about it.
We finished our meal, keeping conversation to lighter topics.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, I baked persimmon cookies after my run on the treadmill. It was time to call it winter and call it quits for running outside. The previous three days, my nose had frozen so solidly, I had been sure it would snap off if I
touched it. I had finally settled on running a marathon in Sanford in May. It would be a little bit of a drive, but Alec and I could make a weekend of it.
I had frozen persimmon pulp two months ago and had thawed it in the fridge overnight. I was going to outdo myself and make twelve dozen cookies. Sam Bailey was going to get three dozen. Hopefully that would keep him happy for awhile and he wouldn’t interfere with me going along with Alec to talk to people. I had visions of having to bribe Sam with baked goods every time I wanted to ride along with Alec, but that was a small price to pay.
I was giving Alec a dozen cookies, plus a couple dozen for the other officers, and I was going to take some to Connie and Terrence and Mr. Spellman. I wanted to check up on Mr. Spellman anyhow and see how he was doing.
Persimmon cookies were some of my all time fall favorites. I added chopped walnuts and raisins as well as a hefty helping of spices. The cookies were so soft, and moist, they were almost like cake.
I had an assembly line going with the cookie sheets. My husband Thaddeus had put in a double oven for me when we remodeled our kitchen ten years ago, so with the cookie sheets turned long ways, I had eight dozen cookies baking at once. Don’t mess with me, I’m a professional.
I texted Alec while the cookies baked.
Hey, I’ll be over around 10:30 with persimmon cookies
Maybe you shouldn’t come?
Why? I told Sam I was bringing him some cookies
I don’t want to get him started up
It will be fine. See you at 10:30
Alec needed to relax. I would butter Sam up and all would be fine. He just needed to trust my Southern charm.
***
I pulled into the police station parking lot at 10:32. Perfect. I had packed the cookies in wax paper lined Christmas gift boxes and got them out of the trunk of my car and headed in.
“Early Christmas present, fellas,” I said to Yancey Tucker and George Feeney. Their desks sat behind a counter that separated the lobby from the rest of the police station.
