A Bias for Murder

by Sally Goldenbaum

  “P.J. called in and talked to someone at the department for a few minutes—they thought the whole thing was weird. Adele’s actions and the whole uncooperative way she’s treated Ollie’s death and murder have the police on alert. She isn’t above suspicion, P.J. says. She only has the house because Ollie died. And things like this don’t help the way they think about her.”

  “Surely Joe wasn’t actually breaking in—”

  “No. Why would he? And he has a key, so no, he wasn’t exactly breaking in. Apparently, Adele heard a sound coming from the back door, picked up a hammer a workman had left, and clobbered him with it. She could have hurt him badly but somehow the hammer slipped in her hand. The paramedics checked him out, and they said he’d be okay.”

  “Adele doesn’t like Joe, she’s made that clear. But this isn’t exactly the way to handle it. Why was he going into her kitchen?”

  “He adopted Neptune, Ollie’s cat, and he thought the cat had been locked inside the house. He didn’t want the cat to have to spend the night with Adele, he said.”

  Po smiled. That sounded like Joe.

  “I guess Joe mumbled something to the police about Ollie’s murder. Said they were looking in all the wrong places.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “He wasn’t talking very sensibly. And everyone thought it was the wound and that he should go take some aspirin and go to bed. I think he’d had a few beers, too. He growled at Adele, then finally walked off. I had this feeling, I don’t know…” Kate paused.

  “What kind of feeling?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but for a moment, I felt sorry for Adele. She seemed vulnerable, standing out there on that driveway. She tried to put on her usual brave, brassy facade, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. There was a crack in the stone.”

  A few minutes later, with Kate’s assurance that she was through with any detective work for the night, she hung up and sat across from Max while he finished his own piece of pie and then hers. She filled him in on the pieces of the story he hadn’t figured out from hearing one side of the conversation. The facts were unpleasant—and the thought of Adele swinging a hammer at old Joe Bates was an unforgiving one.

  But beneath all the facts, Po suspected Kate was right. Adele’s facade was crumbling. And she wasn’t the ogre she wanted everyone to think she was. There was, indeed, a crack in the stone.

  Chapter 12

  Po had been trying to get to the Canterbury library for several days. Her excuse was to pick up another book Leah was holding for her and to do a little research. But the real reason was to talk to Halley Peterson again, to find out what in the world she was doing at the Harrington mansion late on a Saturday night.

  A quick call to the library confirmed that Halley was working that day, and when Halley herself came to the phone, she agreed to meet Po for a cup of coffee around three. Po wasn’t sure if she was reading into it or not, but she thought she heard relief in Halley’s voice, or at the least, a desire to talk with Po.

  Po threw a blue cotton sweater over her white blouse and jeans and walked the few blocks to the college. It was another amazing fall day with temperatures in the mid-sixties, and everywhere Po looked, trees were turning into bouquets of color. The ugliness of Oliver’s death hanging over the town was an aberration and didn’t fit at all with the beauty around them.

  Soon, Po thought. Please let it end soon.

  In ten minutes, Po reached the edge of campus and slowed down as she passed Eleanor’s big house. Eleanor was like Joe Bates when it came to flowers, she thought as she paused to admire the large urns in front of the walkway. They were filled to overflowing with crimson mums.

  A group of coeds in shorts and T-shirts came running by, and Po stepped aside, admiring their speed and energy as they ran toward town. Her own jogs were not nearly so speedy, now more of a brisk walk. But they energized her just the same. And also kept her in the same size jeans she’d worn years before.

  Po walked beneath the large stone entrance arch and across the green quad that centered the college. She loved the campus and welcomed the flood of memories that warmed her from the inside out every time she walked the tree-lined lanes crisscrossing the campus. When Bruce Paltrow had been president, Po stopped in often for one thing or another—to bring one of the kids by to see their dad, to have a little quiet time with her husband in his high-ceilinged office, to attend benefits and meetings. It was a second home, and Bruce’s early death hadn’t changed that feeling. The faculty and staff considered her family and always made her feel welcome. Glancing over at a new all-glass building being built on the other side of the quad, she wondered how Bruce would feel about the changes. Funding was an incentive, she knew, along with some semantics and the addition of masters’ programs. But she resented the pressure it put on friends like Leah and Jed to publish articles and books if they wanted to remain in good standing.

  Po greeted several faculty members as she walked past the theatre building and crossed over to the library on the other side of the quad. Inside the cool stone building, she was greeted by an enormous painting of her Bruce, looking down at her from the paneled wall in the entryway. She nodded at him, smiling into his clear blue eyes. She let the catch in her breathing pass before moving on. Dear Bruce. Always with her, but always, always, giving her permission to move on.

  The library was busy with students cramming for exams. Po didn’t see Halley behind the curved desk, but she was a bit early for their coffee date, so she headed for a computer to find her own titles.

  A short while later, her yellow notepad filled with scribbles and two books checked out and slipped into her backpack, Po looked around for Halley. “Check the Hawthorne reading room,” a young girl at the desk told her. “I think she was helping one of the professors with his reserved reading list.”

  Po thanked her and wound her way around a bank of carrels to a smaller room off a hallway. That room, too, was filled with students at library tables, heads bent together, books open between them, and a buzz in the air that spoke of pending exams.

  Po spotted Halley over on the other side of the room, standing beside a carrel. She was talking softly to a man whose back was to Po. While she talked, she removed her glasses, then smiled shyly and leaned forward slightly to hear what the man was saying.

  Po smiled as she watched the interaction. She’s flirting with him, she thought with some surprise, then started to turn away, embarrassed to be eavesdropping on the librarian.

  At that moment, Halley looked up and caught Po’s eye. She gave her a small wave, said something to the man in the carrel, and hurried across the room, glancing up at the big clock on the wall.

  “I’m so sorry, Po. I didn’t realize the time.”

  “You were busy doing your job,” Po said. “It’s a little crazy around here.”

  “Yes,” Halley said in a low voice. “Very crazy. Professors are trying to get reading lists lined up for the rest of the fall semester and the kids are cramming.” With a sweep of her hand, she took in the crowded room. “Look at this, not an empty table in sight. But I love the activity.”

  Po noticed the sparkle in Halley’s eyes, missing when she was talking with Adele Harrington just days ago. Her cheeks were pink and glowing. “I can see you love what you do,” she said, and followed Halley’s gaze around the room.

  “Yes,” Halley said softly. “I love what I do. I get to take classes for free, I meet fascinating people, and I work in this amazing library. This is where I met Ollie.”

  “You miss him,” Po said, reading the wistful sound in Halley’s voice.

  “I do. And lots of others do, too. He had friends here, people who loved him.”

  Po nodded. “I’m learning that. And speaking of Ollie, shall we get that cup of coffee? I could use one. And we can talk more about your friend, too.”

  Halley agreed, and they began walking
toward the door.

  Po lifted her backpack over her shoulder and followed, glancing back briefly at the carrel in the back of the room and the man who seemed to have added a glow to Halley’s cheeks.

  The man was getting up, closing his briefcase, and turned briefly to speak to a student asking his help.

  Po smiled in surprise as she looked at the handsome profile of Jedson Fellers. Goodness, she thought, one never knew.

  “A cup of coffee is exactly what I need to keep me going another couple of hours,” Halley said as she and Po settled in a booth in the small coffee shop that the college had recently constructed. It was a light and airy place with comfortable couches and chairs and a line of booths along one window.

  “How long have you worked at Canterbury, Halley?” Po asked.

  “Forever, it seems.” Halley pushed a strand of loose brown hair behind her ear. “Long enough that I still call it Canterbury College.” She laughed. “After a few years in the library, I started taking classes, so now I combine the two. The work, of course, makes the other possible—and the college is very generous to its employees.”

  Po nodded. Halley Peterson was a hard worker, which she suspected from the first time she saw her—a hard worker and a woman of purpose. Just going back to school when you were in your mid-thirties took some gumption. “And you and Ollie became friends here, you said.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  Halley’s face was a mirror of her soul, Po thought as she watched a range of emotions spread out from her eyes. Sorrow, colored with happy memories. Po understood the blend well.

  “Ollie spent lots of time in the library when he wasn’t in classes. Sometimes new students poked fun at him—he was so much older than they were and his social skills with the younger crowd were a little backward. But before long they stopped the teasing because so many of us knew him and liked him, and once you talked to him, you saw the kindness in him. Professors let him sit in on classes, and he knew everyone. Professor Fellers, especially, took Ollie under his wing. But you probably know that. Jed was a mentor to Ollie, and then they became good friends.” Halley paused and took a drink of coffee. For a moment, she and Po sat in silence with the memories of Ollie Harrington filling the space between them.

  Halley wrapped her long fingers around her coffee cup and lifted her head, her eyes on Po. “Sometimes Jed and Ollie invited me to join them when they were talking about astrology, and a couple of times the three of us went down to the Powell observatory in Louisburg for a Saturday night program. Ollie didn’t go out much, but he loved going down there with the professor. Jed would explain to us what we were seeing, and then we’d go somewhere for coffee and talk about it all. Ollie would get so excited. He learned so much from Jed, and Jed would just sit there and beam at his prize student, so proud as Ollie waxed eloquently about all those things—the Pleiades cluster, the Andromeda galaxy, things I’d never heard about before.”

  “I didn’t know about that part of Ollie’s life. It makes me happy to know he had special times with good friends.”

  Halley wiped the moisture from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Ollie loved those times, and he loved being here at Canterbury,” she said. “He used to tell me that Canterbury was his surrogate family. And when I met his sister, I understood why he said that.”

  “You aren’t fond of Adele,” Po said.

  “I don’t know her that well,” Halley answered, a slight trace of defensiveness in her voice.

  “But you’ve talked, that I know.”

  “That was foolish of me. Sometimes I get involved where I don’t belong. But I cared so much for him. Ollie even convinced me to take a class in astronomy last semester.”

  “From Jed?”

  Halley blushed slightly. “Well, Ollie told me he was the best. And he was right.”

  “It’s good Ollie’s friends have each other now. That helps. I know when my husband died, my friends at Canterbury were so important.”

  “Jed was mostly Ollie’s friend. But since Ollie’s death, we share lots of good memories. It’s good to have someone to talk to, you know? I can tell him how sad I feel and he understands. I told him it would mean a lot to me to have something of Ollie’s. He suggested I talk to Adele. And I was also upset about other things…so I went to see her.”

  “He had a beautiful telescope…” And it was clearly valuable. Adele might well be put off by someone wanting to take it. It might even be grounds for the anger they had witnessed.

  Halley responded quickly. “Oh, no, not that. Absolutely not. Telescopes you can buy, Po. I wanted to get some of Ollie’s writings, some of his thoughts that he put in written form. Some books. Even books he might have written in.” She looked out the window, as if deciding how much to say to Po. When she turned back, her words were deliberate and careful. “Once in a while Ollie would talk about me sharing his home someday.” Halley paused for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice was profoundly sad. “And then he was murdered. I knew he didn’t just die. I tried to tell Adele. But no one would listen.”

  “The police are doing everything they can, Halley.”

  “Then why is Adele Harrington still building a bed and breakfast? Why is she still occupying that house, acting like everything’s fine?”

  “Do you think Adele had something to do with Ollie’s death?” Po asked. A young waitress appeared and refilled their cups, then disappeared across the room.

  “It’s the only way she could get her hands on that property. I know Ollie wasn’t going to will it to her. Adele never liked Crestwood—Ollie told me that. She doesn’t deserve his home—he wanted someone to have it who would appreciate it.”

  “Someone like you.”

  “Or Joe Bates, or anyone who would care for it, not turn it into a way to make money.”

  “I heard what happened to Joe Bates the other night.”

  Halley’s head shot up. “You know about that?”

  “I do—”

  “Of course you do. Kate Simpson was there. And her boyfriend. Standing in the distance. I almost forgot.”

  “Why were you going to see Adele again? Was it for his writings?”

  Halley laughed softly, but it wasn’t a humorous laugh. “I wasn’t there to see her. I was there to check on Joe.”

  “Joe? Was he getting something in the house for you?” That would explain a lot of things. Perhaps Joe was the one who had entered the house a few nights ago, looking for things of Ollie’s so they wouldn’t be thrown away.

  She shook her head. “No, Joe wasn’t breaking into her house. He wouldn’t do that. He was just trying to get Neptune, like he told the police. Neptune was Ollie’s cat, and he sometimes went back into the house, looking for Ollie. I had just arrived when it happened.

  “Joe is terribly lonely now, and every now and then he calls me and asks me to come look through the telescope with him like he and Ollie did. Or look through some of Ollie’s things that he’d confiscated from the trash pile that Adele was throwing out. He’d go through it every single day to be sure nothing of Ollie’s was heaved into the dumpster.

  “But the other night he was very upset when he called. He said I needed to come talk to him. He knew who killed Ollie, he said, and he could prove it if only I would help him find something.”

  Po frowned. “Find something?”

  Halley smiled sadly. “Joe has been a little crazy since Ollie died. He didn’t always make sense. He’s been obsessed with things, first about the house, who would get it. And lately about things that weren’t always logical. The other night he was particularly anxious, so I thought I would go talk to him and make sure he was all right.”

  “So you think he was just ranting? Do you think he really has information about Ollie’s death?”

  “I don’t know, Po. He loved Ollie so much, and he hasn’t been himself since this happened. I thin
k sometimes he feels guilty, like he should have kept Ollie from dying.”

  “That’s a burden he shouldn’t have to bear. Joe has been with the family for a long time. Whenever I went to see Ollie, Joe would check me out, make sure he knew who I was. He was probably the best security guard Ollie could have had, not that he needed one. Joe rarely left the property since Mrs. Harrington died. I asked him once if he’d do some more yard work for me, and he told me he couldn’t—his job was with Oliver. Ollie couldn’t have asked for a more devoted friend.”

  Halley listened carefully and then looked out the window again. Students wandered by alone and in groups, enjoying the fall sunshine. Taking a break from midterms. Finally, she pulled her attention back to Po. “Joe and Ollie were an odd couple—Ollie the brain, Joe the caretaker. Ollie said his mom made sure that Joe was always there for him.”

  “And Ollie’s father? Did he ever talk about him?” Po had known Walter Harrington socially, but had always found him slightly unapproachable. Distant.

  “No, he didn’t talk much about his father. I don’t think Mr. Harrington had much to do with his son. He wasn’t mean or anything. Just not very present to his son. Ollie wasn’t going to take over the family holdings or be the corporate leader his father was, so he didn’t matter much, is the way I interpreted it. It was his mother Ollie cared about and who cared about him.”

  “I know when she was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years after Walter died, Ollie was bereft.”

  “He told me about that. Ollie was about my age when she died, I think.”

  Po nodded. “About that, maybe a little older. Ollie became kind of a recluse for a while, then sought out the college, and he seemed to find a life again.”

  “It’s all so tragic. This sweet man. There was a brilliance beneath his simple surface, at least when it came to constellations and things like that.”

  Po smiled. That was so true. She remembered how as a young boy, Ollie would come to her door, selling odds and ends he’d find around town so he could buy small binoculars or books about the stars. He’d tell her exactly where Mars was that day and what his favorite constellation was. And he was so happy when someone would listen to him.