Touched By Blood

by Craig Buckhout

  “Okay, how about that same day, only between 10 PM and midnight.”

  “Sorry, no help there either. I can only guess I was watching TV or reading. I read a lot, murder mysteries mostly.” He laughed.

  “So at home?”

  “At home.”

  “What about Friday evening between 6 PM and 8 PM?”

  “Well, let’s see. I left the office late, maybe around 7, stopped and picked-up a burrito at a little place down the street, oh, before you ask I paid cash, I don’t like to use my card for only two or three dollars, and then I stopped by Barns and Noble looking for a book. I couldn’t find what I was looking for, so I went home and ate my burrito. I can’t remember if I spoke with anyone by phone, it’s possible; I’ll have to check my statement when it comes in. Once again, I was by myself.”

  “What book were you looking for?”

  “Ah, let’s see, it’s something like Candle, Candle Maker by Vance Stead.”

  Nick saw a change in Templeton’s expression when he asked the question. Nobody likes to be doubted, so maybe that was it.

  “Was it the Barns and Noble on Almaden Expressway?”

  “As a matter of fact it was.”

  “And earlier today, between say 10 AM and 1 PM, where were you?”

  “Well, I started out by getting my car washed at one of those places that does it by hand. It’s on Monterey Rd. So there is no receipt for that. That was about 8:30 to 9 AM. I then went to the office and caught up on some paperwork. I was there by myself. It seems to me that around 9:30 or 10 AM I made a call to the Chef, and we talked for about two or three minutes. I then took a quick drive here, sometime around 11 AM or so, just to make sure the gate was open so we could get in to set-up. I didn’t see or talk with anyone but instead just left and went back to the office. And that’s about it.”

  If he left the office around 11 AM and didn’t return for an hour, that would explain how I missed him when I stopped by his office, Nick thought.

  “Was there anyone else in your office while you were there?”

  “Man, this isn’t looking good for me is it? It seems like I can’t supply you with a single alibi witness. No, Margaret doesn’t work on Saturday as a rule. This event here wasn’t that big, so I was able to handle it myself.”

  “Do you own a gun, Mr. Templeton?”

  “No, but I’ve thought about getting one. The only reason I haven’t is most of my business is done by check, so I seldom have more than a hundred bucks on me at a time. In other words, there would be no reason for someone to try to mug me or anything. Still, it seems like every time you turn around somebody is shooting somebody else.”

  “Have you ever owned one?”

  “No, uh, uh.”

  “Have you ever shot one before; a rifle or a pistol?”

  “As a kid my dad took me to the firing range once, and we shot a .22, but that’s about it. Isn’t there a way you can check to see if I’ve ever bought a gun?”

  “Sometimes. Do you know Melanie Blaine, Peter Blaine’s wife?”

  “Well, I don’t know her exactly, but I’ve met her on several occasions. All my business has been through Peter.”

  “When was the last time that you saw her?”

  “Oh gosh, I don’t know, let me see. I guess it would have been at the Western States Realtors Association gathering; so last Tuesday.”

  “You didn’t see her yesterday?”

  “No, why?”

  “Just wondering. Okay, that’s about it for now, but I’ll undoubtedly want to ask you some more questions. You have any travel plans?”

  “Not in the foreseeable future. I’ve got events lined up for the next two months.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  As Nick drove towards home for a shower and change of clothes, his route of travel took him to the Almaden Expressway exit off Highway 85. On impulse he took it. At the bottom of the ramp, across the street, was Barnes and Noble. He parked and went to the door but found it locked. He could see people still inside, probably straightening up before leaving. He knocked on the glass door and finally got a brown haired woman of about forty to look up. He showed her his badge.

  “Did the alarm go off again?” she asked.

  “No, nothing like that. I’m investigating a homicide and need some information. It shouldn’t take but a couple of minutes.”

  “A homicide, I don’t understand. How could we possibly …”

  “I just need to know if you carry a book written by Vaughn Stead? Apparently it’s a murder mystery.”

  “We carry his books, but let me check to be sure,” she replied. “We have so many books it’s hard to say what’s in stock and what’s not without looking it up.”

  Nick followed her to the checkout counter where she stepped behind it and then in front of a computer terminal.

  “Vaughn Stead; do you know the title?”

  She started typing on the keyboard.

  “Something with candle or candlestick in the title,” Nick answered.

  More typing followed before she said, “How about ‘Jack Jump Over The Candlestick’?”

  “That’s probably it. Do you have it on hand?”

  “Yes, it’s a fairly new printing and we show thirteen copies of it left.”

  “Okay, can you tell me when it was that you received them?”

  “Of course. Two weeks ago to the day.”

  “Just one more question, no, two more. Can you show me where they are stocked?”

  “That’s easy,” she said. “They’re right over there.”

  She pointed to a set of shelves not twenty feet away with a sign that read “New Arrivals” above it. The set of three shelves was about ten feet long and was filled with books.

  “Okay, is it possible for you to print-up whatever you’re looking at so I can have a copy showing they’re in-stock?”

  The woman didn’t answer but instead grabbed the mouse and clicked it. The printer next to the computer came to life and printed what was on the screen.

  “One other thing,” Nick said. “Will you print your name and phone number on the back, sign your name, and then write the date.”

  “This is all very exciting,” she said. “Will I be called to testify?”

  “It’s possible.”

  After receiving the paperwork from the lady clerk, he walked to the bookshelf and located the book. It was in about the middle of the top shelf.

  As Nick left the book store, he asked himself if he’d just caught Roger Templeton in a lie or had Templeton just been unable to find a book, in plain sight, among all the others?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Outside of the room on the wall, a simple sign read, “The Banks’ Family.” It hung above a glass vase with sprigs of gladiolas, lending a little color and relief to their cheerless surroundings. Inside, the room was perhaps twenty by thirty feet, and smelled musty as if dampness had somehow invaded its walls. On the wall opposite the door, centered, rested Molly’s casket; a lonely and hopeless thing at the end of an isle parting a sprinkling of hard bottomed chairs, four to a side.

  Now it is true that sometimes cops will go to a funeral to see what they can see; like maybe the murderer showing up and, by some behavioral tic, giving them self away. But usually it’s just a bunch of sad people who come-a-mope, trying to fathom the insanity and later wondering if anyone will give a wit to their own passing, when their turn comes.

  For the sadness, Nick usually excused himself from such ceremony, but not today. Today, he walked through the door for a woman he barely knew.

  Inside, to Nick’s surprise, Sonny Boy was there. He was sitting in the back, his long hair greased slick and attired in his best black leather vest over a freshly laundered black long sleeve tee shirt. Sitting next to him was a redhead, kind of, too red to be real, undoubtedly one of the dancers from The Rack. The very tight, very short knit dress gave it away, too.

  Nick followed Ellen and his mother past them, but nodded to The Rack’
s doorman as they went on. People continue to surprise me, he thought.

  He watched Ellen put a photograph of her sister, one she’d found in the apartment, on top of the casket. His mother then hooked one hand under Ellen’s arm and momentarily rested her head on the younger woman’s shoulder. They stood there for a second or two before sitting in the front row, across the aisle from an older woman. Ellen took Nick’s hand.

  A couple of minutes later he heard the sound of someone coming in the room and a quiet murmur of words. A suited man then walked forward carrying a large arrangement of flowers that blocked him from view. He set them down next to the casket and turned. It was Ramon Forney.

  Now what is he doing here, Nick wondered.

  He saw Forney’s eyes meet his, switch to Ellen’s, move to their joined hands, and then finally go on to his mother. He nodded to Ellen and then wordlessly moved on back down the aisle and took a seat next to Leo.

  It was information Nick didn’t want Forney to have. It worried him. He should probably be sitting in the back of the room now, not the front, watching who came in and also watching their backs. He didn’t like sitting in the front row.

  The woman across from them stood-up and approached Ellen, where she took Ellen’s one hand in her two.

  “Ellen, I’m Fern Stewart, we were neighbors when you and Molly were growing up.”

  “Oh, yes of course,” Ellen replied. “It’s so nice of you to come.”

  “I got such joy out of watching the two of you. …She was too young to leave us. Please accept my sympathy.”

  Nick could see tears form in Ellen’s eyes.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Stewart.”

  The woman then returned back to her seat.

  Over the next few minutes another half dozen people came into the room prompting Ellen to whisper, “I didn’t expect this many to come. Maybe I should say something?”

  Nick nodded his agreement. Ann squeezed her forearm.

  She stood and addressed the small gathering, after first introducing herself as Molly’s sister. She thanked them for coming, explained there was no formal service planned, and read a poem that Ann had shown her the night before. She finally shared a few memories of Molly, things she had been reminded of in the last few days. It was all unrehearsed, conversational, from the heart of a sister. It was perfect.

  Just as she sat back down, Nick’s phone vibrated which earned him one of those looks a mother gives an errant son. It was Fanucchi. He excused himself and walked outside the room.

  “About Malone’s, I mean Manning’s text messages,” Fanucchi said. “He was slick enough to erase them all from the memory, both in-coming and out-going.”

  “The carrier can’t pull them out of their computers?” Nick asked.

  “They say no; not once they’ve been erased. They suggest we take the phone to a computer guy who might be able to pull it out of the phones built-in memory. It doesn’t always work, though.”

  “Okay, Okay, I’ll put it on the list. Anything else?”

  “Just that Manning was released on parole a little over two years ago. He was convicted because he worked for a guy, who worked for a guy, who worked for another guy, who was into narcotics, gambling, and prostitution. He got popped on a conspiracy charge and carrying a concealed weapon.”

  “Who were the people he was pinched with, his co-conspirators?”

  Nick watched Forney and Leo exit the room.

  “I’m working on it. You know how the Feds are; you tell me what you got and we’ll tell you nothing.”

  Forney said something to Leo, left him standing by the door, and approached.

  Nick abruptly ended his call to Fanucchi.

  “Sergeant, I hope you don’t mind, but I introduced myself to Ellen and told her if there was anything I could do to help, that she should call.”

  “Why, and why are you here Mr. Forney.”

  “Ah …I can see that I may have overstepped my bounds. Since Molly was an employee of a business that I own, I felt it my responsibility to express my regrets. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “Generally it’s not a good idea for someone who is still on the person of interest list to make direct contact with a family member of one of the murder victims.”

  “I guess I can see your point, but I assure you my intentions were only good. I’m not your enemy Sergeant. Neither of you have anything to fear from me. I take it Ellen is a friend of the family.”

  “You can take it anyway you want, I don’t share that sort of information.”

  Ellen and his mother exited the room. Nick held up his hand to indicate they shouldn’t approach. The redhead also exited and gave Ellen a hug before moving off towards the parking lot with Sonny Boy.

  “Perhaps we should talk about this later,” he said. “I hope I haven’t caused you any difficulty.”

  At that, Forney threw a head nod at Leo to follow him and headed towards the parking lot as well. Nick watched their progress for a moment and saw Leo put his hand on Forney’s back and rub it back and forth a couple of times.

  Forney now has information he shouldn’t have.

  At his departure Ellen and his mother joined him.

  Ellen said, “Nick,” she held up Forney’s business card, “I ….”

  He cut her off and spoke directly to Ann. “Does Forney know that you’re my mother?”

  “Why no, I don’t think so. Why, is that important?”

  “Did you say your name to him; your last name?”

  “Nick,” Ellen again said.

  He looked at her and then back to his mother. “Well, did you?”

  “No, I don’t think I said either my first or last name. And you shouldn’t speak to your mother that way.”

  “I hope not because …”

  “Nick, will you listen to me for a second. I saw this same business card in the stuff I picked-up from my sister’s place yesterday.”

  “Your sister had Forney’s business card?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to say. When I went through her stuff last night, I saw a business card with his name on it; one identical to this one.” She dropped her voice as one of the mourners passed. “I think there was a number written on the back of it.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  A young woman, about Molly’s age, and one who looked familiar to her, gave Ellen a hug and expressed her condolences. She, too, then left.

  “I thought it was just a card some guy from the club gave her; you know, trying to pick-up on her.”

  “I wish you’d told me. It could be important.”

  “Well, if it’s so important why didn’t you or your friends take it when they first searched her apartment several days ago? And while I still have the floor, Ann’s right, you shouldn’t talk to your mother that way.”

  Now they’re ganging up on me, he thought. Somehow though, the bond they’d formed made him feel good. What a mess.

  “Look, he may be somehow involved in your sister’s death. If he knows my mother’s name, even that she is my mother, he can find out where she lives and where you’re staying. That would mean we’d all be sleeping in a motel until this thing is over with.”

  “There’s no way he could know Ann is your mother.”

  “Let’s go back and get that card.”

  It crossed his mind at this point that emotion, he refused to acknowledge love, is like a bullet. In its casing, it is inert, safe, only a potential as long as you keep your damn finger off the trigger. But once you squeeze it off, there’s no calling it back. It blasts out at twelve hundred fifty feet per second, and all you can do is stand there and see what happens next.

  He took her hand. She held on but punched him in the shoulder with her other.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  He was a pacer, she was a scrubber; same difference. That’s how he knew it was coming; the lecture. And that’s what she did to work up to it. She’d start thinking on it, then scrubbing on it, and
then when she was sufficiently worked up, she’d let him have it. He should have gone upstairs with Ellen to retrieve Forney’s business card.

  “Are you listening to me?” she asked.

  Old Max wasn’t a fool either. He knew the signs. He was stretched out on the floor with his head planted between his forelegs and his eyes wary, darting; as if he thought whatever was going on could foul on him.

  “We hardly know one another.”

  He hoped that phrasing it that way would make it sound he was as much concerned about her as he was about himself.

  “Hardly know one another? Let me tell you …after a single conversation I knew your father was the one; a single conversation. But he was just like you; his head so full of ideas and his mouth so full of bull, he couldn’t see the field from the cabbage, that man. But he knew, too, deep down, though a stubborn man to his own feelings he was.”

  The old country accent always squeezed out between her words when she pinned him down like this. He suspected she did it on purpose.

  “It’s not just that. My job, it’s just too hard on …”

  “You don’t think Poland was hard during the struggle? They wanted to throw us in one of their jails. Practically every night we slept in a different place, but we had each other. Don’t pass this up Nick, you’ll always have someone.”

  “You just want grandkids.”

  “If that was only it, I wouldn’t say anything.”

  He heard Ellen coming down the stairs, so he acted as if he was thinking, biding his time until she got there.

  It worked. Ellen stepped through the doorway and stopped.

  “My ears are burning,” she said.

  Max wagged his tail but didn’t bother to get up. The odds were growing in his favor but you don’t pick sides until you know the winner.

  “Oh, think nothing of it,” Ann said. “We were just having a little mother-son discussion.”

  “Do you want some privacy? Maybe you should have your space back.”