Murder at Moonshiner Days

by Michelle Goff

  Gritting her teeth, Maggie said, “We’ve exhausted the issue of time.”

  Seth held up one finger, “Let me finish. The assailant would have needed time to commit the homicide, time to go through the house, and time to transport the stolen goods from the house without bringing attention to themselves. Delphene could have done that. She was there every day. Nobody would have thought twice about seeing her at Jennifer’s.”

  “Okay, so there’s no possible way it could have been a carnival worker. None,” Maggie said while raising her arms with a flourish. “What about vendors? They wouldn’t have opened for business until the following morning. So, a vendor would have had time to make a couple trips to Jennifer’s house to grab those TVs and purses.”

  Seth rubbed his eyes until the freckled skin around them turned red. “I know you can’t always apply rational behavior to criminals, but a murderer most likely will not keep going in and out of a crime scene. The longer they hang around, the more they risk getting caught.”

  “Even at night?”

  “Even at night. They’re going to grab what they can and hightail it out of there.”

  “So, if the killer didn’t keep going in and out of the house, how did one person transport the stolen items in one trip? Are you suggesting that the killer had several arms?”

  “Don’t be cute, Maggie.”

  “Okay, how about an accomplice?”

  Seth craned his neck until it popped. “I’m not suggesting the killer had an accomplice, but I’m – we’re – also not ruling out that possibility. We’re not ruling out any possibility.”

  “Except that it’s not a carnival worker or a vendor.”

  “I never said that.”

  “It sure sounded like it to me.”

  “You’re awfully testy today,” Seth said. “Did you not get your required ten hours of sleep last night?”

  “How much sleep I get is none of your business. Are you going to answer the question?”

  Throwing up his hands, Seth said, “I don’t even remember what the question was.”

  Tyler, who had been silently following Seth and Maggie’s spirited exchange like an anxious fan at a Ping-Pong match, said, “How about we look at this from a different angle? What is the police’s theory of how the crime transpired?”

  “We theorize that an unknown subject entered Jennifer Wagner’s home, murdered her, and burglarized the house. We then believe the murderer carried out the stolen goods, placing them into a car and driving away from the scene.”

  In a much more conciliatory tone, Maggie asked, “Why do you think the killer left in a car and not by foot?”

  “For starters, they had all that stolen loot to pack. But, also, a neighbor walking her dog reported that the dog used the bathroom on the tire of a car parked down the street from Jennifer’s house. She couldn’t identify the make or model of the car. She did say that the car was still making settling noises, so she didn’t think it had been parked there for long. She and the dog went for what she estimated to be a fifteen- to twenty-minute walk. When they came back down the street, the dog pulled her over to where he had used the bathroom, but the car was no longer there. We checked with every person who lived on that block and the adjacent streets, and none of them reported coming home around that time and then leaving shortly thereafter or receiving visitors during that time frame. What’s more, this time frame corresponds with Jennifer’s estimated time of death.”

  Seth continued, “Like I said earlier, in regards to carnival workers and vendors, nothing suspicious came up during the course of the investigation. Jennifer’s house might be in relatively close proximity to the carnival, but it’s several blocks from the closest vendor. There are other houses in the neighborhood and no one reported attempted break-ins. So, for it to be somebody associated with Moonshiner Days, they would have had to wander down the street until they came to Jennifer’s and then somehow make their way into her house. You have to ask yourself, why her house? Why Jennifer?”

  Maggie shrugged. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

  “I see what you’re saying, Detective Heyward,” Tyler said. “Delphene makes sense, but I’ve met her. She doesn’t seem like a killer.”

  “Who does seem like a killer, Tyler?” Seth’s eyes met Maggie’s. “Did you think that any of the murderers in your previous investigations seemed like killers?”

  Maggie didn’t answer, but Tyler said, “Where does the investigation stand as of now?”

  “It’s still an ongoing and open investigation,” Seth said. “There’s never a perfect murder. There’s somebody out there who knows something or who saw something. We’re hoping the anniversary of the murder jogs their memory. We appreciate you guys for devoting time and newsprint to the story.”

  Tyler wrapped up the interview and as the two men shook hands, Maggie said, “Seth, do you have a minute? I have a couple follow-up questions. Tyler, could you let Joe know I should be finished in just a bit?”

  As soon as Tyler closed the door behind him, Maggie said to Seth, “I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “You mean when you badgered me about answering your question or when you ordered me to tell you why I was here?”

  “Don’t make me rescind the apology.”

  “So, does this mean you’ve taken on a new case?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t planned, but Tyler tricked me into sitting in on his interviews with Delphene and Blake. I still had no plans to pursue an investigation, but,” Maggie bit the inside of her mouth, “Blake came back afterward and told me something she hasn’t shared with anyone. I won’t lie to you, it piqued my interest.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “That on the day Jennifer was murdered, she fired Delphene.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Is that all you have to say, ‘Hmm?’ Does that mean you’re surprised or not surprised?”

  “Well, it adds to the evidence against Delphene and gives her motive, but Jeff Little called us after Jennifer’s funeral and told us that Jennifer hadn’t paid Delphene in months.”

  “So if you’re not getting paid, why do you care if you’re fired?”

  “That’s one way of looking at it, but maybe she expected back pay. Maybe Jennifer firing her made her realize she wouldn’t be getting the money owed to her.”

  “But she told me she offered to work for Jennifer for free,” Maggie said.

  “Can anybody corroborate that?”

  “Probably not. Delphene also said Jennifer was coming into some money.”

  “Really?” Seth leaned against the conference table. “Tell me more.”

  “I don’t know much more about it. Jennifer did have property she was trying to sell. Didi wouldn’t meet her price, though, so maybe the money was coming from somewhere else.”

  “Didi? The sister-in-law? I guess you’ve spoken to Jennifer’s nearest and dearest. Anything else you want to share?”

  “I told you what Blake said about Jennifer laying off Delphene, and about the mystery money. Otherwise, there’s not much there.” Recalling Scootie questioning her mom’s alibi, Maggie added, “It’s hard to know if people are lying or if they’re confused or simply weird. And while I agree with Tyler that Delphene doesn’t seem like a killer, experience has taught me that you can’t always pick a killer from a crowd. Then again, someone doesn’t become a meat thermometer-wielding murderer in her early seventies.”

  Seth looked Maggie in the eyes, “Can we go off the record?”

  “We’ve never been on the record. This isn’t work. I’m on break.”

  “Only you would interview somebody on break.” Putting his hands in his pockets, he said, “The police department wanted to arrest Delphene and take the case to the grand jury. The prosecutor disagreed. She said we needed more evidence, especially in light of the fact that even Jennifer’s family didn’t believe Delphene had anything to do with her death. And the next thing I’m going to say is so far off the record that you’re not even hearing
it.”

  Maggie felt her torso tingling with excitement. “What is it?”

  “Publicly, I toe the department line about Delphene being a person of interest. But everybody in the department knows that I have my doubts.”

  “Really? Why? I mean, I have my doubts, too, but what are your doubts based on?”

  “The truth? My gut. Don’t get me wrong, based on evidence alone, Delphene looks good for this murder. Something seems off, though. I mean, besides the fact that there’s nothing in her past that suggests she’s going to kill somebody she cares for, then rob her, and leave her body where somebody else she cares for – Blake – could find her. Yeah, I know what I said earlier about returning to the scene of the crime. And maybe that’s what happened. She killed her and went back to the house because she couldn’t stand the thought of Jennifer lying in the kitchen floor. On the other hand, what kind of person walks back into that kitchen knowing what she’s going to find? A hard-hearted person. Delphene is not hard-hearted. Everybody loves her for a reason. My mom was the sweetest woman I’ll ever know. She jumped all over me when she heard Delphene was a person of interest. She let me know in no uncertain terms that Delphene Fugate no more killed Jennifer than she did.”

  Maggie smiled at the mention of Seth’s mom, who had died during Maggie’s investigation into Jay Harris’ disappearance. “How are you doing?”

  “I think of her every day. I miss her every day. Everybody says it gets better, but I haven’t gotten there yet. Dad said you’ve been by to see him a couple times. He said you brought him a graham cracker and apple butter cake. He left a couple pieces for me. It was good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Isn’t that the cake you and Lena call lazy woman’s cake?”

  “Yeah. Mom took one of the cakes to a family reunion years ago and that’s what someone referred to it as, with a generous amount of derision I might add. Apparently, the cake critic didn’t recognize the amount of effort it takes to place alternating layers of graham crackers and apple butter on a plate. It’s exhausting.”

  “Well, Dad and I appreciated your effort.”

  “Good. You can reimburse my time and effort by answering another question for me. Jeff said Jennifer’s missing engagement ring cost more than fifteen grand.”

  “That’s what we’ve heard.”

  “Has it been found?”

  “Nope. We put out feelers to area pawn shops and jewelry stores, but haven’t gotten any hits.”

  “Those feelers will only come into play if Jennifer’s killer is local,” Maggie said. “I know what you said about the dog and the noisy car, but if a Moonshiner Days worker killed Jennifer, that ring could be anywhere.”

  Chapter Nine

  Maggie smiled when she saw Sylvie Johnson’s old pickup truck parked in her parents’ driveway. She didn’t know what business Sylvie had in the head of Caldonia Road, but she hoped it lasted long enough for her to walk her dog and change clothes. She hadn’t seen the older woman in weeks, not since they had gone to Gentry Harris’ house for homemade chili. Back in December, Sylvie had introduced Maggie to Gentry with the hope that Maggie could find his missing grandson. After chatting with the lonely old man, Maggie had agreed to look into Jay’s disappearance, eventually learning his fate. Sylvie had also played a role in Maggie’s other investigations and, as she walked Barnaby up and down the road, Maggie amused herself by wondering if Sylvie had known Jennifer Wagner.

  After Maggie safely returned Barnaby to her fenced-in back yard, she walked the short path to her parents’ house. She entered the kitchen and eavesdropped as her mom and Sylvie engaged in a serious conversation about quilts.

  “This is just about the most beautiful Basket of Flowers I ever seen,” Sylvie said.

  “Now, Sylvie,” Lena countered, “I know you’ve seen better. I’d say you’ve quilted better.”

  “Not as beautiful as this one.” Pointing to one of the hexagonal quilt blocks that comprised the flower garden, Sylvie said, “I love this shade of green. Is that what they call forest green?”

  “I don’t know what they call it,” Lena said, “but I’ve had that material for years. I bought it when the children were little.” She pulled out a quilt that featured repeating profiles of a bonneted-girl. “I made this Little Dutch Girl out of some of Maggie’s old clothes.”

  Maggie couldn’t recall every piece of clothing that had yielded the fabric that now clothed the quilt’s sixteen Little Dutch Girls. But she didn’t have to look at the quilt to visualize the pale pink material with tiny yellow flowers that one of the girls wore. She remembered the day her mom bought the fabric and how she watched her spread it across the table and cut around the crinkly pattern, creating what would become the ruffled dress Maggie wore on picture day in second grade. Maggie had cherished the dress and, nearly three decades later, she still considered it the loveliest one she had ever worn. Of course, she also remembered how impatient she had behaved while Lena pinned the pale pink material and crinkly pattern on her and how Lena had put an end to that impatience by sticking her with a pin.

  Walking into the living room, Maggie asked, “Hey, Sylvie, what do you think of my quilt?”

  “Your quilt?”

  “Yeah, my quilt. Mom made it for me. I’m lending it to her so she can enter it in the Moonshiner Days quilt show.”

  “We’ve just about decided that I should enter the Basket of Flowers instead,” Lena said.

  “Why can’t you enter both?” From the way Lena and Sylvie looked at her, Maggie knew she had committed a verbal mistake. “What did I say?”

  “They’re charging five dollars apiece for every quilt you enter,” Lena said.

  Shaking her head, Sylvie said, “That’s just highway robbery.”

  “If you can’t afford the entrance fee, Mom, I’ll give you five bucks.”

  “I have five dollars, Maggie. I even have ten dollars for both quilts. It’s the principle of the matter. I should not have to pay to take part in a community quilt show.”

  “They use the money from the entrance fees to cover the prize money, so they have to charge something. And five dollars is not an unreasonable sum.”

  Maggie’s explanation did not placate her mom and Sylvie, who continued referring to the entrance fees as a racket. In an effort to change the subject, Maggie asked Sylvie what she planned to enter in the quilt show. She quickly chastised herself for once again opening her mouth.

  With disgust dripping from her words, Sylvie said, “I ain’t allowed to take part in their ole quilt show.”

  Although part of Maggie’s brain wanted to let the matter drop, the part that regulated her curiosity compelled her to ask, “Why not?”

  “Because she’s too good, that’s why,” Lena answered. “They came up with a rule that anybody who had won the quilt show at least five times couldn’t participate in another one. Well, there’s only one woman who’s won that many times and she’s standing right here in my living room. This is America. Anybody should be able to enter as many quilts as they want for as many years as they want. And they shouldn’t have to pay five dollars for every quilt, either.”

  “You won’t get no argument from me, Lena.”

  The quilt show discussion had, to a point, amused Maggie, but she knew amusement could quickly turn into exasperation. “I saw fried potatoes and meal gravy on the table,” she said. “Are we waiting on Daddy to eat?”

  “No, he already ate,” Lena said. “He went somewhere to see a man about a hog.”

  “Oh. Are you staying for supper, Sylvie?” Maggie asked.

  “I wasn’t planning on it, but if the offer’s made, I won’t turn down fried taters.”

  Sylvie’s remarks notwithstanding, the older women made no effort to move toward the kitchen, and Maggie feared they would devote several more minutes to discussing quilts, extortion, or whatever subject crept into the conversation. With the supper cooling by the second, Maggie said, “Well, then, let’s eat.”

 
; Sylvie and Lena followed her into the kitchen and, to Maggie’s delight, the three women soon settled around the table. Maggie had taken only a few bites of her meal when Sylvie said, “You know, I never heard tell of meal gravy until I married that no-count husband of mine. I allow meal gravy was the only good thing that come from that marriage.”

  “Wonder what made the first person substitute cornmeal for flour in gravy?” Maggie mused.

  “I don’t know, why don’t you look it up on the Google or do a story on it?” Lena said.

  Maggie closed her eyes and counted to ten. She had made it to eight when Sylvie said, “Maggie, Lena tells me you’re looking into that Jennifer Wagner’s death.”

  Between bites, Maggie said, “Don’t tell me you knew Jennifer, Sylvie.”

  “Well, not exactly, but one day when I happened to be there, she come into that fancy dress shop I do alterations for.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Maggie said. “You know everybody, Sylvie.”

  “Now, you know that ain’t right. There ain’t no way one person can know everybody. But when you’ve lived as long as I have, you’re apt to have met a few people.”

  “What do you remember about Jennifer?” Maggie asked.

  “Not much. She had brought that girl of hers in for a prom dress. That was a bad idea.”

  Crumbling cornbread into her second helping of meal gravy, Maggie asked, “How so?”

  “That girl wanted to go to the prom about like I did. A blind man could have seen she was uncomfortable. You know, she’s a tall girl and big-boned. Not fat, but a little fleshy. And that Jennifer picked out these sleeveless dresses for her to try on. I’m here to tell you, some people ain’t made to wear sleeveless clothes. Of course, that don’t stop them. Just the other day, I saw a woman at the store with arms as big as tree trunks. And they was flabby arms, too. And her in a tank top.”