1 Odds and Ends

by Audrey Claire

  “Excuse me, Peter,” Margot called above the shouts. No one heard her. She cleared her throat, and Odds made a good impression of a lion’s roar—a tiny, cat-toned lion’s roar. Everyone quieted down, looking at him in confusion. Margot smiled, feeling charitable toward the feline for the first time. “Thank you, Odds. Do you have a motive, Peter?”

  “No,” he admitted with reluctance. Then he held his hand up. “And before you start in on me about the third floor apartment, I’ve heard about that. It’s in my notes.”

  “You don’t sound like you believe it,” Nancy said.

  He neither confirmed nor denied, but Margot had the impression Peter didn’t believe the desire for a better apartment was a motive for murder. So he thought something more was stirring. She filed this tidbit in her mind to write down later. After all, she too intended to get to the bottom of the mystery, just as she had told Odds.

  “Okay, I’m going to talk to each of you in turn again,” Peter announced. “Starting with you, Mrs. Armitage. We’ll use the empty apartment across the hall.”

  Jimmy shifted from one foot to the other.” He no doubt expected Debra to share with Peter why she thought he was guilty.

  “I’m coming along with my wife,” Greg said.

  “No, you’re not.”

  Greg stood his ground. “I won’t let you question her alone. What if she gets too upset and needs comforting. And…and…I’ve heard of police brutality.”

  Peter’s eyebrows crashed low on his forehead, and his lips curled to one side, revealing clenched teeth. He probably didn’t know it, but Margot thought he gave a great impression of a policeman who would commit such a heinous act. However, she had already seen his smile and was convinced he was a good man.

  “I have never, nor would I ever need to brutalize anyone,” Peter bit out.

  “No offense, Detective,” Greg said, “but my wife still needs me.”

  Margot glanced at Debra. She seemed pretty capable. Peter cast around the room and locked his gaze on Margot. “How about Margot play chaperone. Will that meet with your satisfaction?”

  Greg looked doubtfully at Margot, but Margot bounced up from her chair. Or in spirit she bounced up. Either way, she was excited to help Peter, and she would be able to listen in to his questioning Debra. She might even convince him to let her stay through all of the interviews.

  “I would be glad to help,” she offered.

  “Very well,” Greg said and turned to Margot. “But Margot, please make sure he doesn’t brow beat my wife. Debra’s been through enough.”

  “I will,” Margot promised. She scooted over to Peter and took his arm. “Come along, Peter. Time’s wasting, and we must get justice for poor Mr. Patterson.”

  Peter removed Odds from his shoulder and carried him to the apartment across the hall. He placed the cat on the floor and then produced keys from his pocket. After unlocking the door, he stood aside to let them pass.

  “Are those Coley’s keys?” Debra asked with interest.

  “No, actually. I made arrangements with the owner for a copy to be sent to the station while we’re investigating. The owner of the building, a Mr. Robert Cunningham, sent them over without any problem.”

  “You met him?” Debra asked round-eyed.

  Peter frowned. “I met his assistant.”

  “Oh.” She seemed disappointed. Margot was starting to feel disappointed herself. The indifferent owner didn’t even appear after learning his long-time employee had been killed. For shame.

  “He’s rich,” Debra explained, as if she had picked up on Margot’s musings. “This building is just one of many all over the city. All he cares about is getting the rents in, and that’s why he kept Coley. He was good at it.”

  “Is that so?” Peter flipped his notebook open. “Did he ever threaten you?”

  “No, of course not. Greg and I always paid on time.”

  “She’s so lying. Look at those hands twist.”

  “Shh,” Margot said. Both Peter and Debra glanced at her, and she tried to change the shushing into a sneeze, which didn’t sound likely.

  “Why did you accuse Jimmy Barber of murdering Mr. Patterson?” Peter asked.

  “Because I saw him that night.”

  “Which night?”

  “The night Coley was killed.”

  Peter shut his notebook and folded both arms across his chest. “That’s interesting, Mrs. Armitage. Tell me, how do you know which night the victim died unless you were there and saw it?”

  She gaped in horror. “I…” Her hands twisted faster. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door, and Peter moved between her and it. Margot stood there in disbelief. Was she in the same room as a killer?

  “She’s not the killer,” Odds said.

  “How—” Margot began but clicked her teeth together.

  “Because I saw him go into the basement,” Debra said at last.

  “Did you follow him?”

  “No! I would never.”

  “Never, huh?” Peter scratched his chin. “Mrs. Armitage, I’m a pretty good judge of character and decent at my job. Don’t let the boy next door good looks fool you.”

  Odds snorted, and Debra gaped at him. Margot giggled. She liked Peter’s personality.

  “I can tell you’re keeping something from me, and we can stand here all day with me asking one question after another to dig it out. Conversely, we can go down to the station. The easiest path, which is what I suggest, is for you to simply tell me everything, even if you don’t think it’s relevant.”

  Debra heaved a huge sigh. “All right, but please this can’t get back to Greg.”

  Both Margot and Peter went still. What could she be about to confess, Margot wondered? Such a sweet young couple, Debra shouldn’t keep anything from her husband and vice versa. Margot was already disappointed to learn they were less than perfect in their relationship, but such was life.

  “I leave my apartment each night when Greg falls asleep,” Debra said.

  “And he doesn’t hear you or miss you while you’re gone?” Peter asked.

  “How?” Margot blurted. “I’m a light sleeper myself, and everything disturbs me. That’s originally why Lou and I had separate rooms. He snored something awful. Couldn’t get a wink of shut eye.”

  Peter’s expression at last penetrated Margot’s diatribe, and she fell silent.

  “Mrs. Armitage?” Peter prompted.

  “No, Greg doesn’t hear me when I leave. He has trouble sleeping, so he takes an herbal medicine. It does the trick pretty well.”

  “And where do you go on your nightly trips?”

  She said nothing.

  “Mrs. Armitage?”

  “To Coley, okay? That’s where I was going for the last few months, but I didn’t kill him!”

  “To Coley?” Margot repeated, confused. “What do you mean to him, Debra?”

  “Just like I said.” Her voice began to rise, and Margot worried any second the others would hear.

  Peter seemed to think so too because he said, “Calm down, Mrs. Armitage, unless you want your husband in this interview.”

  Her teeth clicked together. She pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m relieved in a way to have it out in the opening.”

  “Let me be sure I have this straight.” Peter consulted his notes. “You were seeing Coley Patterson as a lover?”

  Her cheeks pinked. “Not at first. I was just being nice to him, hoping he would give us the apartment. He sat around drinking most of the time. Occasionally, he would call a repairman. The job wasn’t hard. He led me to believe it was a matter of time. He didn’t care about the apartment, said he was just using it to relax in and get away from the noise on the first floor, but it was too roomy, as if that’s possible. He said he had to figure out how to move Greg and I ahead of Zabrina.”

  “But he didn’t move out of the apartment. He led you on. So you killed him.”

  “No!”

  “Maybe he threatened to t
ell your husband?” Peter suggested.

  “No, no.” She sniffed, and Margot moved beside her to hug her.

  “Peter, dear, you promised not to abuse the witness.”

  Odds snickered.

  “The word was brutalize, and that’s not what I’m doing.” He looked at Debra, and she glared at him.

  “He wanted to keep it up, so he definitely wouldn’t tell Greg! That would end it.”

  Peter seemed unconvinced. “Did you accuse Mr. Barber to keep us from finding out about you and Mr. Patterson?”

  “No. Like I said, I saw Jimmy go into the basement pretty often, and that night he went down there. I think it was the night he killed Coley because when I went up to Coley’s apartment, he wasn’t there. He didn’t answer my call, and I never heard from him after that.”

  “Which night was this?”

  She named the date, and Peter added it to his notes.

  “Was that the night he died, Peter?” Margot asked.

  Peter smiled at her. “Margot, you’re an observer. Please observe quietly.”

  “Oh,” she grumbled.

  “I could scratch him,” Odds suggested with a paw raised to Peter’s pants leg.

  “Odds, behave.” She picked him up, and he thumped his tail softly against her side over and over.

  “She’s not lying now,” Odds said. “She’s stupid, but she’s innocent.”

  Margot put her hand over the cat’s mouth, and both of the humans looked at her. She shrugged, and Peter dismissed Debra to call his next witness. One after another they came to talk to the detective. No one shared anything as interesting as Debra’s story, to Margot’s utter dissatisfaction.

  At last the time came for Peter to speak with Jimmy. Only Jimmy wasn’t there. He wasn’t in Zabrina’s apartment, and he wasn’t answering his phone. With a grim expression, Peter made a call to the police station. “Find Jimmy Barber and bring him in.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Margot moaned and tried moving her head to breathe easier. Nothing she did worked. One side of her nose was clogged. Well, she had another nostril. She drifted off, but the blockage moved to the other side. A shake, and she breathed fine on both sides. Then something touched her lips, and she squealed.

  Opening her eyes in the darkened room, Margot found two green ones blinking at her. “Was that you, Odds? What is the matter with you?”

  “I’m scared of the dark.”

  “You are not!” She scooted his bum over the side of the bed, and heavy paws for such a tiny animal thumped the floor. “Go catch mice.”

  “I’m telling you, the boogie man is in the hallway.”

  “Honestly, you know I need silence when I sleep. You—”

  Something or someone truly did make a sound in the hall. She heard it clear as day. Who would be out there, and what were they doing that she heard them all the way in her bedroom?

  Then she realized why she heard. Whoever it was, was in the apartment next to hers. Margot pushed her feet into her slippers and tiptoed to the wall separating her place and the one next door. She had thought no one lived there.

  Scratches and something being dragged reached her, and her heart thumped in her chest. In the last few days of living here, her heart had never pounded so often. She began to wonder if it was safe to live here. If not a knife than a heart attack might take her to heaven.

  “I’m going to try to get a look at whoever it is,” she whispered. “Oh, dear, where’s a weapon when I need one?”

  Lou had owned a gun collection, which he kept locked in a case in the study. She had thought she might sell his precious guns and spend the money. However, she had been informed that virtually every piece in the house was sold and accounted for. If she dared try to remove anything that was not on the solicitor’s list, she would be arrested.

  “Of all the humiliating…” Her list had been short. Well, more than could fit in her current apartment, but still woefully lacking.

  Margot stopped by the bathroom, and Odds yowled. “At a time like this?”

  “I’m not using it,” she snapped. “Just wait there.”

  She left the cat in the hallway and returned from the bathroom seconds later. He stared up at her. “What’s that?”

  Margot felt her face burn and was glad it was dark in the apartment. Then she recalled Odds could see as clear as day. She squared her shoulders and started for the front door again. At least she had remembered to lock it.

  “Are you really taking a plunger?” he had to ask.

  “Be quiet before I plunge you!”

  “Where did you even get it?”

  Margot stopped creeping and stood straight, losing her patience. Her back ached anyway, and she was glad to stretch it out. This midnight sneaking about didn’t agree with her. “If you must know, I added it to my list for Kenny. He brought it back for me.”

  “Why?”

  She grumbled. “Because I wanted to practice using it. That’s why. Now be quiet. No more questions.”

  Margot made it to the front door and pressed her ear to the panels. No sounds reached her. She sucked in a breath, raised her weapon, and threw the first lock. The chain rattled too much, and she winced. Then she undid the next and the next. Three in all, the chain, the deadbolt, and the doorknob lock. Surely, that was overkill. She gulped thinking another word might have been better.

  When she stepped into the hallway to find it empty, Margot grew braver. Her heart was still pumping at an accelerated rate, but she determined she could do this. Something brushed her leg, and she almost screamed until she remembered Odds. The darn cat did that on purpose.

  Odds ran ahead and stopped at the door next to hers. Since his little head disappeared, she assumed the door lay open. Fear that any second someone would come out made her freeze, but Odds turned to look at her as if to taunt, “Chicken?”

  She didn’t hear the word in her head, but she knew he was thinking it. Other people had ordinary pets. Her first ever had to be this bad little scamp.

  Margot reached the door and paused to breathe deep a few more times. Then slowly, she leaned around the doorframe. All feeling left her legs, and she started to sink toward the floor.

  Jimmy was back. The police had not found him after he disappeared, and here he was in the empty apartment with something on the floor that looked suspiciously like a body! Margot must have made a sound because Jimmy froze, his back to her. She was still sliding and unable to catch herself.

  Odds, who was under her, took exception to her landing on him, and he swiped a claw toward her chin. Margot refused to receive another wound from him and jerked away. She tumbled backward and rolled over to land on her nose. She moaned.

  “Who’s out there?” Jimmy called.

  Oh no, he was going to catch her. She struggled to her knees, sharply aware of the creaking in the left and the twinge in the right. Odds let out a yowl and jetted away from her straight into the empty apartment where Jimmy was.

  “You stupid cat,” he roared, and from the thumping, she assumed he chased Odds around the room.

  Margot pushed up to her feet and held onto the wall until she straightened. She started to hurry into her apartment but stopped. She couldn’t leave Odds after he had distracted Jimmy for her.

  When she turned back, she noticed the plunger on the floor where she had dropped it. She scooped it up as quickly as she could and ran shouting into the apartment while waving the plunger in the air.

  On some level of comprehension, she realized she heard feet on the stairs down the hall. Also, waving her arm was a sure method to wear herself out. Long before she reached Jimmy, Margot puffed out of breath. Her arms came down, and by some miracle, the rubber end of the plunger popped Jimmy on the head as he ran.

  “Ouch! Are you nuts, lady?” He turned toward her, hands outstretched, and she toppled backward. Her feet hit against something hard, and she started to tumble. Jimmy grabbed for her wrist and captured it. “Look out.”

  Margot screamed. Od
ds landed on Jimmy’s head and swiped with his paw. Jimmy yelped. He grabbed at Odds but missed.

  “Leave Odds alone, and let me go, you murderer,” Margot shouted, more to startle him into doing what she asked than anything else. She had better sense than to provoke a killer. Well, in hindsight, after she had hit him with a plunger. That could be labeled as inciting him.

  “Freeze,” said a deep voice from the doorway.

  Jimmy stopped fighting to get Odds off his head, and he released Margot. She scrambled away as quickly as her trembling legs would take her. When she saw that it was Peter standing in the entrance, she headed for him.

  “Odds, come away before he hurts you,” she called over her shoulder.

  The silly cat darted from Jimmy’s hair, leaving behind a thin stream of blood on his forehead. Margot weakened even more at the sight, and several pairs of hands held her up. She looked around to find more of the neighbors crowded in the hall, trying to see into the apartment.

  “What’s going on here, Jimmy?” Peter demanded.

  Before Jimmy could answer, Margot pointed to the thing on the floor. “He’s got a body there. He killed someone else.”

  Several women screamed in alarm.

  “Quiet,” Peter ordered. “All of you go back to your apartments. This is police business.”

  No one moved.

  “We have a right to know what’s happening in our building,” Nancy said primly if a bit shakily. “If he’s killed another of our friends—”

  “I didn’t kill nobody,” Jimmy growled.

  “Well, what’s that?” Greg, who had just joined the crowd, demanded. Margot had no more fight in her to say a word. She hung to consciousness by sheer will—and wanting to know what happened.

  “It’s a body bag.” Debra screamed, and the noise level rocketed high again.

  Margot tensed when Peter reached for his gun.

  “Wait, please,” Jimmy pleaded with his hands up in surrender. “It’s not a body. Yeah, it’s a bag people usually use to put bodies in, but that’s not what’s in there. I promise.”

  “Open it,” Peter snapped.