‘Not saying that.’
Rocco sighed. ‘What are you saying, Mrs. Anderson?’
‘Boots was beddin’ them both.’
‘She was involved with Eddy and Skee?’
‘That’s what I’m saying. Boots always did like variety. She would kinda alternate them.’
‘Then who was the daddy?’
Eliza Anderson shrugged. ‘God knows,’ she finally replied as she looked at Rocco and Lyon. ‘Don’t matter none now, does it? And I wouldn’t pick one over tuther cuz I wouldn’t want Lister to think he shot the wrong man.’
Four
The young man with the broom wore a baseball hat with the bill turned to the rear, a Grateful Dead tee shirt and bleached cut-off jeans. He made lame broom passes at the mass of broken windshield glass that littered the used-car lot. A black motor scooter leaned against the wall of the office trailer.
Rocco parked the cruiser on the highway shoulder away from the car lot to avoid tire damage from the broken glass. He hitched his trousers and adjusted his long holster before he walked toward the sweeper. ‘Who’s the kid?’ he asked Lyon.
‘I’ve seen him around, but don’t recall his name.’
The lethargic sweeping slowed to a stop as the young man watched their approach with mild curiosity. ‘Lot’s closed,’ he announced.
‘Who be you?’ Rocco asked softly.
‘I work here.’
‘That might be questionable,’ Rocco said, ‘since I watched your sweeping.’ Rocco’s authoritative manner slipped into place. ‘What’s your name?’
The sweeper immediately detected the voice change. He reacted by imperceptibly straightening his posture and tightening the grip on the broom. ‘My name is Skee Rumford. I work here part-time.’
‘Do you know that the owner is dead?’
‘Yes, sir. Mrs. Rashish asked me to clean the place up. She wants to try and get a buyer after the windshields and tires are replaced. I told her I could replace the tires, but she’s got to get a glass guy to do the windshields. It’s going to cost her a friggin’ fortune.’
Rocco walked through the lot and stopped occasionally to examine a shattered windshield. The sweeper followed behind him. ‘You’re a friend of Boots Anderson, aren’t you?’ Rocco said nonchalantly without looking directly at the young man.
‘We were in high school together.’
‘You know she was also killed yesterday?’
‘I heard about it.’
The voice was familiar. Lyon remembered last year’s high school class. Skee sat directly behind Boots and exchanged what they obviously considered meaningful glances. Lyon suspected that he was also the culprit who spouted off about the sex life of the Wobblies.
Rocco turned away from his examination of Lister Anderson’s carnage. ‘Her murder got you off the hook, didn’t it, Skee?’
‘Huh?’
‘She’s dead with your kid.’
‘What are you talking about? I told you we were in high school together.’
‘Her mom says you two did more than share a little homework.’
‘I might have dated her a couple of times.’
‘Do you know what I think, kid?’ Rocco said. ‘I think you’ve been seeing Boots since the eighth grade and I think you’ve been making out with her since then.’
‘I date lots of girls.’
‘She was carrying your baby.’
‘I don’t know that.’
‘Her mom seems to think so.’
‘It coulda been Eddy’s.’
‘Boots’ body is at the medical examiner’s office right now. Suppose I just ring them up and get a DNA report on that unborn child?’
‘Maybe it was mine. I don’t know. She was fooling around with Eddy, too. That’s why her dad came out here and did what he did.’
Rocco slowly folded his hand around the broom handle and deliberately removed it from the young man’s grip. He tossed it aside. ‘I find it extremely interesting that you’re working for the guy who was making out with your girl. Did you both do her in the trailer over there? What I’m asking is, did you take turns?’
‘I don’t have to listen to that!’
‘Don’t you? Would you prefer we chatted in my lockup?’
‘No.’
‘Then how come you work for Eddy, who was playing around with Boots? I find that strange, kid. In fact, I find that downright weird.’
‘I didn’t know what was going on when he hired me. I needed a part-time job while I’m going to Middleburg Community College. I found out later what was happening between them.’
‘How much later?’
‘I began to have my suspicions,’ Skee said. ‘It got routine that when I came to work at the lot, Eddy would take off. I’d try to call Boots and she was never home when Eddy was gone. She worked the four-to-eleven at the market and should have been home.’
‘So what happened?’
‘The night before last we had it out. She told me Eddy hired me so he would know exactly where I was when they went together. Boots promised me that she was dumping Eddy. She said the relationship wasn’t going anywhere and he would never divorce his wife. She said she was sorry it ever started.’
‘So, she told you the night before she died that she was going to meet Eddy in the state forest?’ Rocco pressed.
‘She didn’t say where she was going to tell him.’
‘Do you know if Eddy had a gun? Maybe a small handgun?’
‘Lots of his customers paid weekly in cash. He was always afraid of robbery so he kept a pistol. It’s somewhere in the office.’
‘Let’s have a look,’ Rocco said as they walked toward the trailer. Lyon helped Rocco search the narrow office. They found a mass of pornographic magazines, stacks of various MVD forms, and bank loan papers from several institutions. There wasn’t any gun of any caliber.
‘Where do you suppose Eddy put that gun you told me about?’ Rocco asked Skee.
‘I don’t know,’ Skee said in a subdued tone that bordered on obsequiousness. Any trace of his initial belligerency had disappeared.
‘Where were you yesterday morning?’ Rocco snapped.
‘I was in school. I had classes all morning at Middleburg Community College. They’re very particular about taking attendance. You can ask them at the administration office.’
‘I will,’ Rocco said. ‘You may rest assured that I will.’
The governor of the state of Connecticut began to cry.
Bea Wentworth sat uncomfortably before the desk in the governor’s study at the mansion on Hartford’s Prospect Avenue. While the state’s chief executive fought for composure, Bea turned her attention to the books that filled the cases along three walls. Lyon’s Wobbly books were there, along with hundreds of other volumes written by Connecticut authors. Writers were a breed that seemed to sprout throughout the Nutmeg State. She was never certain if this was due to pleasant rural areas or proximity to the publishers of New York City.
‘Forgive me, Beatrice,’ the governor said as she stuffed her hanky into a skirt pocket. ‘It hurts. Oh, God, his going hurts. I remember years ago, when we served together in the legislature, that you and your husband suffered a terrible loss. You lost your little girl, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, on her birthday,’ Bea answered.
‘How did you stand it? How did you find the strength to go on?’
‘I don’t really know, Margaret,’ Bea said. ‘You just go on because … Because you have to.’
‘Perhaps it’s like the old saying that time heals all wounds.’
‘It never gets better. You just don’t think of it quite so often.’
‘You heard where he died, didn’t you?’ All traces of prior tears disappeared as the governor leaned toward Bea conspiratorially. ‘The Millrace Inn. The owner told the paramedics that Bill drove his car into their parking lot and said he didn’t feel well. They escorted him upstairs to one of their rooms. He went before a doctor could arrive.’
‘I wonder what he was doing in that part of the state? It’s not even near his own district. The inn is near your home, isn’t it?’
‘It’s directly across the river from Nutmeg Hill,’ Bea answered.
‘Interesting. We go back a long way together, don’t we, Bea?’
‘A long way, Margaret.’
‘You were one of my first supporters when I ran for statewide office.’
‘I’ve always had faith in you.’
‘I’m the first Jewish woman governor, Bea.’
‘You were a logical choice after we had our first Jewish governor and our first woman governor.’
‘I’m the first Jewish woman governor, Bea. I didn’t get this far by being dumb. You don’t win elections in a state like Connecticut without being a pragmatic politician with a ton of survival savvy.’
‘You’ve always been a survivor, Margaret,’ Bea said. ‘That’s why you’ll eventually get over Bill.’
‘Oh, I expect I will. Of course, I’ll always miss the rat,’ the governor said. ‘Did you know he lived in the Watergate while Congress was in session? He ate in a restaurant near there called Blinkers. You know the kind of place. Young flirty waitresses who wear short-shorts real tight. His regular waitress was a nubile twenty-year-old called Bambi. Evidently Bambi was personally responsible for delivering Blinkers’ venison to Bill’s apartment. When I investigated, I found out that Blinkers doesn’t even have takeout. It would seem that Bambi was his appetizer, entrée, and dessert.’
‘Margaret, you’ll only make yourself more upset.’
‘Of course, I’m even more unhappy when I consider that when Bill died he was—as they would say down in the pool hall—in the saddle. Which is rather fitting since that’s the way he would have wanted to go.’
‘Drop it, Margaret.’
‘Oh, I’ve known about his sex games for years. For several reasons I chose to ignore them. There are certain things I needed from my marriage and discretion was one of them. For the most part he tried to be discreet. However, there is a major question that is troublesome. Who was Bill with when he so rapidly departed us? Now, the Bambis of this world don’t bother me. They are non-threatening fluff. They aren’t my competition. A woman of substance and intelligence would be a different matter. A woman of accomplishment would be very threatening to me.’
‘It could have been like they said. He felt ill and pulled over to—’
‘Don’t be condescending, Beatrice! That inn was a favorite trysting place for Bill Tallman when he was in your section of the state. I’ve known that for a year. You live right across the river, don’t you?’
‘I just said that I did, Governor. You’ve been to my home half a dozen times. You know where I live. I’m not altogether certain that I’m comfortable with the direction of this conversation.’
‘I’m not interested in your comfort. I also know that you had a luncheon reservation at the inn the day Bill died. Now isn’t that another coincidence?’
Bea stood. ‘Let me explain.’
The governor also stood, her grief replaced by anger. ‘You will explain nothing. Bill always joked that he’d have you one day. He said he’d get by your airhead husband and conquer Miss Liberal Arts. I obtained a copy of the paramedics’ report. It states that an M. Maresca and a B. Wentworth were present with the body when they arrived. How neat, Beatrice. I’m glad for his sake that you joined him on his last ride, but I’m not glad for you, Senator. My hurt for that raunchy rat will be replaced by my hatred for you. I will see you ruined. As you well know, I have a lot of ammunition and power to accomplish that end. Think about that today, tomorrow, and the next day. Now, get the hell out of my office before I call my state troopers.’
Lyon leaned against the police cruiser as a deeply thoughtful Rocco carefully paced the perimeters of the used-car lot. He walked with a lowered head as if expecting to discover the footprints of some prehistoric predator. The car radio cackled. Rocco waved. It was an obvious gesture that signaled for someone to answer the call.
Lyon slid behind the wheel and snicked the hand mike from its clip on the dashboard. ‘Murphysville One,’ he answered before he pressed the receive button.
‘Tell the chief that Judge Styles had another one out at the supermarket parking lot. Over and out.’
‘Styles had another something or other at the supermarket,’ Lyon yelled over at Rocco, who was slouched against the office trailer.
Rocco pounded a fist into a palm. ‘Damn! And it’s important that we hit Eddy’s house while the lab guys are doing their thing.’
‘As a matter of curiosity, what has the judge had another of?’ Lyon asked. ‘I’ve always thought he was a harmless old man.’
‘He’s got a short-term memory of about ten seconds,’ Rocco answered. ‘The judge has reached a point where he makes Spook sound like an oracle of clarity. However, the good judge does not live in a tree house, but in that Victorian gingerbread monstrosity behind the green where he is zealously guarded by a stubborn daughter. Which still might be OK if he wasn’t in the mid stages of Alzheimer’s and still in possession of a valid driver’s license. I’ve talked to the daughter, but she refuses to admit anything is wrong. She won’t do anything about it. She doesn’t understand that the judge is a traffic menace as he tools that ancient Lincoln around town. One of these fine mornings he’s going to lose control and run down a bunch of kids waiting for a school bus. This is the final time! I’m going to yank his driver’s license one way or the other. You’re going to have to go out to Eddy’s house and talk to the wife.’
Lyon shook his head. ‘I’m not getting involved any further.’
‘All you have to do is interview Eddy’s wife—what’s her name?’
‘Mildred. If you’re too busy, turn the case over to the state police.’
Rocco glared. ‘The commander of the local state barracks would be in charge.’
‘So, that keeps everything in the family. Captain Norbert is your brother-in-law.’
‘You know what a horse’s ass Norbie is. I will never give jurisdiction to that martinet. Besides, you’ve got a finely tuned criminalist mind.’
‘You have a whole police department to call on.’
‘Jamie Martin is the only cop I could rotate on to this assignment and his results would boggle your mind.’
‘May I remind you that I am not a sworn police officer?’
‘You’re still a town constable.’
‘That was done years ago as sort of an honorary thing.’
Rocco raised Lyon’s right hand. ‘Puff! You are now sworn. That makes you an official—unpaid, mind you—member of the Murphysville Police Department. I’ll drop you off at the Rashish house on my way to beard the judge.’
Later, Lyon sat on the couch before the coffee table in the Rashish living room. Mildred sat across from him in a wide easy chair. She smiled with a menagerie of teeth that seemed to be more than the normal complement. A loud thump from the upstairs front bedroom startled him. He knew that the state forensic team had obtained the necessary legal documents and also had Mildred’s permission for the search, but it still reeked of a gross invasion of privacy and a violation of a family’s most intimate space.
Mildred Rashish seemed extremely self-possessed. She was fortyish, with bright hair-salon blonde hair divided by a slender streak of silver grey. She wore an expensive, tailored but incongruous for a recent widow, red pants suit which accentuated a full-figured body.
Lyon smiled across the coffee table as another series of thumps sounded along the upstairs hall. He knew the team was now testing for hidden locations within the walls. ‘I’m sorry about this, Mildred. There are certain procedures that must be followed.’
‘I’m surprised they want to search the victim’s house,’ she replied in a well-modulated voice. ‘I’m aware that under different circumstan
ces even the wife might be considered a suspect, but everyone knows that Lister Anderson killed Eddy in the car lot.’
‘That’s a fact,’ Lyon replied. ‘I believe the search has to do with the death of Miss Anderson earlier that day.’
Her eyes flickered nearly imperceptibly.
Lyon was well aware of Mildred’s reputation. She was the top salesperson in the Seven Sisters Real Estate Agency. The other agents referred to her as ‘superlady’ to her face and ‘the shark of Murphysville’ behind her back. Her lack of popularity stemmed from a compulsive need to steal prospects and listings from other brokers whenever possible. Once she had a live prospect, of her own or stolen variety, she engaged in a feeding frenzy equal to any school of predators. She would close a deal even if it turned out to be a one hundred percent financed mobile home with a split commission marketed through multiple listings.
Lyon wondered what type of sales negotiations might have occurred in that upstairs bedroom. When ‘pay here every week Eddy’ bedded with ‘the shark of Murphysville’, who did what? He let the thought drop, but it was an interesting speculation.
‘You had better explain what the authorities think about the relationship between Eddy and the Anderson girl,’ Mildred said.
‘There has been some information disclosed that would seem to point toward a possible romantic involvement.’
Mildred snorted. ‘Eddy wasn’t romantic about anything except percentage deals in his favor. What you mean is that they think he was screwing her? I knew that. I mean, I hope they don’t think Eddy killed her over that kind of fun and games.’
‘Often the heart of police work is ruling out suspects.’
‘He’s dead. For God’s sake, why don’t they leave him alone?’
‘You knew that they were involved?’
‘He was always involved with some other woman, or in this case, girl. Why do you think I took my opportunity to get even?’
‘How’s that?’ Lyon asked.
‘I had my own affairs.’
‘You don’t have to go into those things, Mildred. I don’t think Rocco is interested in your private matters.’
‘Better it is out in the open and that you understand my reasons. I don’t want to end up as a suspect in the Anderson girl’s killing because some boob cop thinks I wanted to protect my marriage.’
Death in the Secret Garden Page 5
