“That’s exactly what I mean. Nathan’s been looking information up on his computer and he’s going to bring it over during his break.” I looked up at the Coke clock. (Another fire survivor) “In fact, he should be coming through that door any minute now.”
Nathan Horne actually arrived about fifteen minutes later. Before he bounded through the door, however, I did receive a customer. In this weather, they are rare. It was Melanie Bernstein. I doubt that her sole purpose in coming was to purchase anything but she did make it look good. I’ve never known her to read Louis L’Amour but she picked out three of his books from my clearance bin, the first three on the top. Melanie was especially kind to Flori and I was glad. She knew firsthand how it felt being charged with a murder you did not commit. Although Melanie’s case was different because she honestly believed she had killed her husband, Bernie. (Could this be the case with Jake Junior too? Did he truly believe that he was the killer?)
Before she left, she gave Flori a hug and told her not to ever give up.
“If you’ve got Mabel in your corner, you’ll be okay, Flori,” she said. “Mabel can solve any crime.”
I had to admit that was a lovely thing for her to say but at the same time, it put a heavy burden on my small shoulders. Was I really up to the task? How was I going to prove a man innocent who wasn’t even claiming to be innocent anymore? Well, it seemed that he wasn’t claiming to be the murderer either so that was something to work with … I guess.
Melanie left and Nathan walked in. He looked pleased and smug, which I thought was a good sign.
Let me tell you about Nathan Horne. About a year or so ago, a body was discovered, murdered on the beach. (This is a story for another time.)
It was then that Reg Smee decided it was time to retire and someone voted in a new sheriff. The people of Parson's Cove did not vote him in. He was a quick replacement and very few people liked him - me, for one. He claimed that Charlie Thompson was guilty of the murder. Everyone in town knew that he was innocent but he’d been found bending over the woman’s body with the murder weapon in his hand. I might never have been able to prove his innocence without Nathan’s help. He was, and still is, a super whizz on the computer and hard as it was to believe, but it was the information he collected that helped solve the crime.
Unfortunately, Nathan got the sleuthing bug and now he can’t wait for another crime to happen in Parson’s Cove. Even with his dark-rimmed glasses and unruly brown hair, he’s an attractive young lad but it’s his brains that scare most of the girls away.
Since he only had to dash across the street from the Post Office, his jacket was wide open but he had wrapped his scarf around his neck. He didn’t bother to remove either. He plunked himself down in the chair next to Flori, reached back to toss a brown envelope on the counter, and then flipped the top off his tablet.
I stood closer.
“So, Nathan, what have you got? You looked pretty excited when you walked through my door.”
He turned to me with a grin. (I forgot to mention that he has the most perfect white teeth that I’ve ever seen. Another plus for him.)
“First of all, I did what you asked, Mabel. I went through all the newspaper articles that I could find on Victor and Andrew Fleming.” He pointed to the envelope. “It’s all in there. However, there were a few years where there was nothing so I thought I should check into that.”
“You mean you weren’t convinced that he’d gone the straight and narrow?”
“I guess not,” he said with a grin.
Then, as if for the first time, noticing Flori, he said, “Oh, hello, Mrs. Flanders. I hope this is okay. I don’t want to bring up any bad memories for you.” He turned to me and whispered, “Do you think I should show this to you now, you know with…" he rolled his eyes in Flori’s direction "here?”
“Nathan, Flori is sitting right beside you. She can tell you herself if it’s okay.” I looked over at Flori. “What do you say? Will this bother you?”
“Mabel, I told you that I want to get this thing solved. Of course, it’s not going to bother me. What do you have, Nathan?”
He started bobbing his knee up and down. This, I knew must be something big. I’d learned that this is what Nathan does when he’s truly excited about something.
“Well, remember Jake said that he started using the name Andrew about ten years ago? Well, it was actually eight years ago.” He gazed at me as if I should know what was coming next.
“And so?” I asked.
“And so, where was he from the last arrest when he was called Victor to the arrest under the name Andrew?”
Flori and I looked at him in bewilderment.
“You’ve got me,” I said. “Where was he?”
“Mabel, this is serious. This could be the clue that solves the whole mystery.”
“This could prove that Junior didn’t kill Victor? Or, Andrew or whomever he wanted to call himself?”
For a moment, he had a puzzled look as if he forgot who Junior was but then the light in his brain lit up.
“Well, no, it won’t prove that but it will prove who Victor Fleming really was.”
“Just a minute,” I said, and got up to pour another cup of coffee for myself. “Did you want one, Flori?”
She shook her head. “I’ve had enough.”
“What about you, Nathan?” I asked.
“Mabel, you know I don’t drink coffee.”
“Well, if you’re going to be a detective who’s worth anything at all, you’d better learn to drink coffee. And, maybe even something stronger once in awhile.” I caressed my cup and then took a good swallow. “All right,” I said. “Who really was Victor Fleming?”
His grin travelled from cheek to cheek.
I peeked at Flori and she was leaning so far over, I was afraid she might fall on to the floor.
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing that I’m quite certain of - the Victor Fleming who froze to death in the fish shack was not your cousin, Flori.”
For a brief moment, there was complete silence and then, the thud and clatter as Flori did slide off the chair and onto the floor. She tried to get her footing but it was too late. The chair flipped over on top of her and her almost empty coffee mug went flying through the air, knocking over a small wire magazine rack, which clattered to the floor.
I lifted the chair off my friend and Nathan helped her stand up. After making sure nothing was broken in Flori or the chair, we gently sat her back down.
“Here,” I said, as I handed her a box of tissues. Flori is very self-conscious so when anything like this happens, she bursts into tears and swears that she is never going to show her face in public again.
She pushed the box away. “Mabel, how can you think of such a thing? What were you saying, Nathan, before I so rudely interrupted you? You said the Victor Fleming who froze to death in the fish shack wasn’t my cousin? Then, who the heck was he?”
I stared at her and then at him. “Yes, what do you mean, he wasn’t Flori's cousin? Of course, he was. He borrowed money from her. She’d know her own cousin, wouldn’t she?” I looked at Flori. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
Flori’s cheeks looked flushed and she definitely had a very confused look on her face. She shook her head. “I told you, it was dark. I hadn’t seen Victor in years. I assumed it was my cousin. He said he was. Why wouldn’t it be? Why would anyone want to pretend to be my cousin? He was a loser.”
“She’s right, Nathan. It must’ve been her cousin.”
He shook his head. “I don't think so. You didn’t recognize the picture, remember, Mabel?”
“Of course, I didn’t. I hadn’t seen Victor in years and, besides that, I always tried to avoid eye contact with him anyway.”
“Neither had you, Flori. The man you saw resembled your cousin in many ways. He was about the same height. He had dark hair and eyes. The scar wasn’t a giveaway because that could’ve happened years ago and you wouldn’t have known about it.”
Flori digested every word. “And, it was dark. He made sure I met him in a dark place. I thought it was because of Jake but I guess he didn’t want me to see his face.”
I was not completely convinced. “You have to have proof, Nathan. How do you know this wasn’t her cousin?”
With a look of triumph, he said, “Because her cousin died in prison eight years ago. He was murdered.”
We both looked at Flori. This time, she didn’t fall off the chair. I must admit that I had to put my cup down on the counter though and, without thinking, I grabbed the counter with my hand.
Sometimes it’s better to be sitting down. I seriously had to consider bringing another chair into the store. I have only two so people won’t be encouraged to have coffee and then sit without buying anything.
“What? How do you know that?” I said.
He moved his tablet over so I could see. I had no idea where he was on the Internet but it looked like someone’s personal email. Or, perhaps it was on something like Facebook. I’m really not up on any of that stuff.
“What is this, Nathan?”
Flori leaned over too.
“Where did you get this?” I asked. I couldn’t help but feel that it looked very personal and I shouldn’t be looking at it.
“Never mind where I found it, Mabel. It’s an email that was sent from someone in prison to someone on the outside.”
I stared at him. “You’re kidding! Are you going to get into trouble for this, Nathan? It’s one thing to solve a crime but we can’t solve it if we’re committing crimes ourselves. As you know, even cops can’t break into homes without a warrant.”
He stared right back at me. “I happen to know the Law. Have you any idea how much information is out there, Mabel? People put everything online. There are social media sites where you can learn everything there is to learn about someone. Whoever wrote this, deleted it but obviously, the person he sent it to decided it was worth keeping and passing on. Once you post something on the Internet, it’s always there. Forever.”
I looked down at the screen again. “So where did this email come from?”
“This,” he said, “was an email sent out from the prison eight years ago to someone named Harry. I don’t know his last name. He called himself Harry the Bad. The address was removed a long time ago but whoever sent it obviously wanted a few people to know about it or they wouldn't have put it on Facebook. Read what it says.”
I read the message aloud. “News from inside. Victor’s gone. Forever. Everybody’s worried. Who’s the stranger and who’s not looking?”
“You think this means he was murdered? What if it means that he escaped?” I asked.
Flori and I both looked at our computer whiz for the answer. He looked back at us with raised eyebrows.
“You want more?”
We both nodded.
“Well, how’s this?” he said with a smile. “I checked out the death records for that date and guess what?”
“What?” we both yelled.
“There is no record of a Victor Andrew Fleming dying in prison. Don’t look at me like that because I know what you’re thinking. You are thinking that I have it all wrong. That either there was no murder or it was a different Victor who was murdered and the real Victor is the one down in our morgue.” He patted Flori’s arm. “Sorry to put you through this, Mrs. Flanders.” He turned to me as if noticing for the first time that he was sitting and I was standing. “Sorry, Mabel. Did you want to sit down?”
“No, I want you to tell us why you think Victor Fleming was murdered eight years ago. That’s what I want to know.”
“Well, there were no prison records, at least that I could find, so I went into the State records.” He picked up his tablet, swept his fingers across it a few times, and handed it to me. I was staring at Victor Andrew Fleming’s death certificate.
I handed it over to Flori for her to read. I’m sure her eyes misted up but she didn’t let a tear fall. This was getting ridiculous. Flori cries in the autumn over falling leaves.
She handed the iPad back to Nathan and said, “So, in other words, Victor Fleming was murdered twice.”
Chapter Ten
“Really? Are you sure?”
Sheriff Smee must have repeated that over a dozen times as I explained Nathan’s find to him. I had called him on his personal cell phone so he came over as soon as he could. Nathan had to return to work but he left the envelope with the newspaper articles for me to peruse. Flori decided that she was feeling more like herself and went home to clean the house and do some baking. I was thrilled when she said that because I knew she was on the road to recovery. Her next blow would be if Reg had to charge Jakie with murder - and for murdering a stranger, no less.
“Really. And, you know what, Reg?” I pointed to the newspaper clippings. “Do you notice how the crimes seem to change too? Flori said that Victor and his dad both seemed to enjoy embezzling money from unsuspecting folks but I notice that Andrew Fleming went in for break and enter. He’s the one who kidnapped that rich guy. I guess the only thing Andrew and Victor Fleming had in common was their stupidity. What I can’t figure out is why no one seemed to know. How could someone take over another person’s identity like that? And, why? Why would anyone want to be Victor Fleming?”
Reg hadn’t bothered to remove his bulky winter jacket but he did unzip it. Not that I would ever say anything to him, but if he added another inch to that tummy of his, that zipper would refuse to close again. He sat in the chair looking anything but comfortable.
“How’s Flori taking all this, Mabel?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. She’s a stranger to me. I haven’t seen her shed one tear ever since Junior was arrested. Today, she had less emotion about it than I did. She did go home to clean her house so maybe that’s a good sign.”
He glanced at my hotplate and the coffee pots. “Is that fairly fresh coffee, Mabel?” he asked, but then said, “Aw, what the heck, I don’t care how old it is; pour me a coffee, will you?”
“No problem, Reg.” I didn’t tell him how old it really was. I like to claim my coffee is wonderful no matter how long it sits. I poured his cup full and added the cream and sugar.
I almost started using those coffee whiteners to save money but everyone got in such a kerfuffle that I went back to good old-fashioned cream. It also meant that I had to invest in a small refrigerator for the back room. After the fire, the town replaced that one with a larger model so now I can keep a supply of muffins in the freezer section. (I am forever grateful to the mouse who decided my electrical wiring might be something tasty to chew, although it is sad he lost his life because of it.)
I stirred the two teaspoons of sugar in and handed it to him.
“Would you like a muffin to go with that?” I asked.
He simply nodded because his mind was miles away. When I returned from the back room with his frozen muffin, he was on his cell phone. I heated it up in the microwave and put it on a small plate. By the conversation, I could tell that he was talking to Nathan and arranging to meet him.
“Kind of exciting, isn’t it, Reg?”
He gave me a deadpan look. “I guess if you get a kick out of double murders, Mabel. Especially if both victims have the same identity. Then, yes, I guess it’s exciting.”
“Well, there’s that too but you know why it’s exciting?”
He took a bite of his muffin and swallowed before he said, “Because we’ve never had a case like this before?”
“You’re right! How did you know I was going to say that?"
“Because you say that with every case.”
“Oh, maybe I do. Every case is unique though. This is exciting because I think once we find out who murdered the real Victor, we’ll be closer to discovering who killed the imitation Victor.”
Reg finished his muffin and washed it down with the last quarter of his coffee before he spoke.
“You are thinking that we have to solve the first murder?”
“Well, someone has too. The two have to be related, don't they?”
“And how do you presume to solve the first one, Mabel? It didn’t happen in Parson’s Cove, you know. Not only that, it’s a cold case.”
“You’re right. I hadn’t thought of it as a cold case." For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. "You know, Reg, it reminds me a lot of the Patterson case. After so many years, we were able to find Old Man Patterson guilty of killing his wife. This is our second cold case. We are on a roll. Doesn’t that make it even more exciting?”
Reg stood up, zipped up his snug coat, and walked to the door. Before opening it and letting in a cold blast of air, he said, “Murder wasn’t meant to be exciting, Mabel.”
And with that, he left.
Chapter Eleven
I actually had two customers after Reg left. Both of them were more curious about the murder than buying books and get-well cards, although I do have a wonderful selection of cards from the 1950s. Dolly, a sweet woman who lives in the Retirement Home, gave me a shoebox full several weeks ago and they are selling fast.
Myra Wakefield and Veronica Pollock, the mayor’s wife, were somewhat disappointed when I told them I had no news about the murder and although they looked at me as if I were lying, Myra was quite gracious about it. Veronica, on the other hand, was miffed but since she thinks she’s a little above everyone else, it felt good not telling her anything. I am not sure if Fred is aware that the only reason he’s the fill-in mayor is because no one else wanted the job. Now several people are wishing they had applied.
I closed up shop a few minutes before five. It had been cloudy with peeps of sunshine off and on all day. Now it was clouded over again and felt cold and damp as I stood outside and locked the front door. As I did every evening, I glanced down the street to see if Charlie Thompson was sitting in his usual spot. He missed a few of the ‘insanely below zero’ days (at least that’s what Delores at Main Street Café told me) but I could see him there today. Although I wanted to get home as fast as I could, I decided to walk over to say hello. It is never a long visit with Charlie anyway because he gets anxious when he talks to anyone, even me.
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