4 - Stranger Room: Ike Schwartz Mystery 4

by Frederick Ramsay

  Chapter 35

  The scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted Ike as he pushed through the door. He paused, and gazed around the outer office.

  “Whoa, I must be in the wrong building. Where’s the always day old, thick as tar coffee I’ve come to love?” He spun and caught sight of Essie. “I thought I told you to take off, go to Disney World…rest, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m going there, but not right now. And I’m here because here is where I belong. And I need to talk to you sometime, Ike, when you have a minute.”

  “I have several, as a matter of fact, right now. Let me get a cup and make sure I’m not dreaming.” Ike filled his mug, added creamer and sweetener, and retreated to his office. Essie followed him in and sat. “How are you holding up, Essie? I got the whole story from Karl. He said he’d never seen anyone as brave as you were.”

  “I’ve never been so scared in my life, Ike. It was Karl that did the deed, though.”

  “Not without what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything much.”

  “You were off the charts, Essie.”

  She stared out the window and swallowed. Her hands plucked at the fabric of her slacks. Ike waited.

  “Is that what it’s like?” she said.

  “Is what, what it’s like…?”

  “Being a police person. Is that what they do…put their life on the line like that?”

  “It can be, is sometimes, but not often, at least not in a small town like Picketsville. You’ve sat at that dispatch desk. How many times have any of us had to face something like what you went through?”

  “Come on, Ike, there was Whaite just last winter. I mean poor Darcie’s left with them kids … and I don’t know what happened in that motel last summer. You never said anything about it to anybody. It happens more than enough. I can’t do it.”

  “But you did it. You were thinking about attending the Police Academy. I told you before, you get a test somewhere along the line. None quite like yours, I guess, but sooner or later you see first hand what’s involved. Now you’ve seen it. If that was your test, you passed. You are ready to go up to Weyer’s Cave to the academy.”

  “That’s the thing, Ike, I didn’t and so I’m not. I wasn’t thinking about anything except Billy. If it had been anyone else…well, I wouldn’t have been there in the first place, I guess, but no way would I take that chance.”

  “But—”

  “No, you don’t understand. I couldn’t do that for anyone else. Like, if I had been in Karl’s shoes, I’d have run away. I wouldn’t have done anything. Maybe I might’ve run to the car and called for help, blow the horn, or something like that. But, no way could I do what he did. I only wanted to help Billy, save his life. Police work is not for me. I know that now.” She started to shake. Not much, but enough to worry Ike.

  “Everyone has doubts, Essie. What you don’t have to wonder about is, will I be brave? That’s what gets to everyone.”

  “Brave? No, scared and…just scared. I just saw that dirt bag with the gun on Billy and I just…”

  “You did good, Essie. You’re a natural.”

  “I’m not. You didn’t hear me. Anybody else, anywhere else, and I’m gone, outta there. Not brave, not close to brave. I can’t do police work.”

  “You’re ditching the academy?”

  “Yes. Like I said, Ike, it was for Billy. See, all these years, me and Billy was just, like, friends. That’s what we told each other. Friends with…” She blushed, looked at the floor, and took a deep breath, “…like they say, ‘friends with privileges.’ But out there in the park, all of a sudden I realized that it wasn’t true. He wasn’t just a friend. He had become something more. You know what I mean?”

  “I think so. How’s Billy feel?”

  Her face brightened, “I guess that’s the upside. We spent early this morning on the porch swing, talking. We never did much serious talking before. It was mostly fun. So, I told him what I came to realize out there in the park, and he sat there looking out across the field, quiet like. I swear there was this tear in his eye, maybe. And then he said, ‘What were you thinking about out there, woman?’ and I told him what I just told you, and he said, ‘I didn’t know Karl was back there. I aimed to turn and even if he pulled that trigger, I’d get him in a grip and pull him down so’s you could run.’ He just sat there shaking his head and looking at me like I was some…I don’t know…really important person, or something. Then he said…this is the good part…‘You know, Essie, you and me have been playing around long enough. I reckon it’s about time we grew up a little.’” Essie’s eyes filled with tears. Ike put his hand on hers.

  “Then he said, ‘Last night I told Ma that you didn’t have anyone to look after you proper and she made me think about that.’ I was about to say, ‘I’m okay,’ when he says, ‘Marry me, Essie Falco.’ He did, Ike, just like that.”

  “And you said?”

  “Well, what do you think? I said yes, of course.”

  “When will you get married?”

  “Miz Sutherlin is arranging it all. She’s pretty big in that old church of hers. She says June, so that’s that.”

  “Disney World off the books?”

  “Nope. Honeymoon.”

  “I’m happy for you, Essie. I still think you’d make a fine deputy.”

  “Miz Sutherlin says no way she’s going to have another police in the family. Besides, the way I’m put together, I’d spend more time on maternity leave than on duty.”

  It was Ike’s turn to blush. Essie stood and strode out the door just as Henry Sutherlin walked in.

  “Just one thing, though, I’m still the head dispatcher around here.” She flashed him a smile. It fell short of her usual dazzler. That would come back, he guessed in time. “Hey-o Henry. What’re you here for?”

  “Hey there, Sis to be, I come to see Ike. You got a minute, Ike?”

  Ike waved him in.

  “Essie tell you the news? Great, huh?”

  “She did, it is. What’s on your mind, Henry?”

  “It’s like this. My Ma is dead set against me going to the police academy on account of what she sees on the TV. She thinks I’m going to drive around in a cop car, arrest folks, and get shot at, you know like on them shows. What nearly happened to Billy like to scared her to death. I told her that TV stuff was all made up. The evidence technicians just, like, work out puzzles.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Could you, like, talk to her? You know, tell her it ain’t dangerous and all?”

  “I can do that. Anything else?”

  “Nope, thanks. Say, is that coffee fresh?”

  “Help yourself. Your ‘Sis to be’ made it. One question for you, Henry.”

  “Shoot.”

  “You said you heard Lydell arguing with his daughter the day she fell down the stairs.”

  “Yes, and that struck me funny because—”

  “I remember that part. Tell me again where the voices came from, do you remember?”

  “Came from?”

  “Upstairs, downstairs, one up, one down?”

  Henry scuffed his boot on the floor. His face lit up. “Both were upstairs.”

  “That’s what I thought you said.”

  “Is it important?”

  “You’re the evidence tech, you tell me?”

  “I’ll think on it. Here’s a free one for you. George Lebrun and Lydell were getting into it hot and heavy the other day. Sounded serious.”

  “Lebrun and Lydell?” Henry nodded.

  The phone on his desk blinked and Essie wigwagged for Ike to pick up. He waved Henry out. Frank Sutherlin was on the line and asked for a few minutes. This must be Sutherlin day, he thought. He listened to Frank talk and then to his proposal. His eyebrows slowly climbed his forehead. When Frank finished, Ike paused, squinted through the glass windows that formed one wall of his office.

  “It sounds okay at this end, better than okay, actually. You clear
it with your Major and we’ll work out the details.” He hung up and scratched his chin.

  “One door closes, another opens,” he muttered. He stepped back into the main office to refill his cup. Henry waved goodbye and banged out the door. Essie looked expectantly at Ike.

  “What’d Frank want?”

  “How well do you know Billy’s brothers?”

  “Not all that good. Michael and Johnny are away somewhere in the Army. Jack passed, and, of course, you know Henry. I was out to their place on Christmas. Frank was there and Danny. He’s one of them SEALs, they keep him on a short string, I think, and Henry, Billy, and that’s all.”

  “What’s Frank like?”

  “Frank is…how do I say it? He’s, like, the opposite of Billy. I mean, time was when Billy was sort of wild. No more, though, and Frank is solid. He gave Billy a talking to at the party. He was looking at me when he did it, so I guess I was supposed to be included.” She pursed her lips and frowned. “I’ll tell you what he’s like. He reminds me of Whaite.” Her radio crackled. She turned away.

  “Essie, when you’re done with that call, get me Jonathan Lydell on the phone, and tell him he needs to come in and identify his pistol. And tell him I have some questions for him about his daughter’s accident.”

  Frank reminded Essie of Whaite.

  Chapter 36

  Ike had the items that were found in the tree stump spread out on his desk. The matchbox, containing a handful of Indianhead pennies, had nearly disintegrated. The pennies were corroded. Obviously, they had been in the stump for years. The box of bullets, aside from being damp, was in reasonably good shape. There was one rusty key similar in shape to the dozens he’d seen in Lydell’s basement. There appeared to be a partial print in the red rust, but insufficient to identify. The pistol still showed some powder from the evidence techs attempt to lift prints, but was otherwise in good shape. The report detailing the items lay next to them.

  He studied it, looking for something, anything that might move the investigation forward. As it now stood, there didn’t seem to be any light at the end of his tunnel. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, even though the report had been written and they were not necessary, and picked up each of the items in turn, pennies, rusty key, bullets with their box, and the pistol. The prints on the gun belonged to Tommy, the kid who found it, Norbert from the gun store, and Lydell. The shells in the box had prints as well, Lydell’s. They were old and the techs deemed any match they might make as unreliable. Old prints would be consistent with Lydell’s story of the gun having languished in a drawer for years. The casings in the pistol’s cylinder and the two unfired bullets had cleaner, relatively recent prints, all Lydell’s.

  He turned his attention to the two coroner’s reports. Grotz’s posed more questions than it answered. Three shots to the back, one in the forehead. That would mean Grotz was probably shot first while his back was turned to the shooter, and the one in the forehead was to make sure he wouldn’t get up. Ike mulled over the wounds. He could see how someone might shoot Grotz in the back in a locked room. How big an aperture would you need to do that? A not noticeable hole in the wall, door probably. Ike made a mental note to check the door again. But the difficulty with that scenario was how do you get the forehead shot? Maybe it was first. Knock on the door…who’s there?…mumble, mumble…walk to the door and bend forward—bang, stagger back and turn—bang, bang, and to make sure, bang. It could work except, Ike didn’t remember any holes in the door. He’d have to check under the doorknocker. That might be a possibility.

  He reread the other report. Martha Marie Lydell Winslow fell down a flight of stairs. She reeked of whiskey but her blood alcohol was below the legal limit for impaired. She showed traces of cocaine but none recently. LeBrun sold cocaine. Was that what Lydell and he were arguing about? Lydell said she was drunk, but she wasn’t. Except for a possible misstep, why did she fall? And what were the two arguing about before she fell? He still had to look up petechiae. Ike pulled a scrap of paper from the pile on his desk and jotted down the things that puzzled him. He wanted to be ready for Lydell.

  ***

  Jonathan Lydell arrived at the office a little after noon. He had his grandson in tow. Ike ushered them into his office and had them sit. He shuffled some papers, offered them coffee, which they refused, sat and stared off into space for a moment.

  “Sheriff? Excuse me, but I am a busy man. You wanted to see me. I’m here.” Lydell seemed irked which was exactly what Ike wanted. He wasn’t sure about the grandson.

  “I take it this is your grandson. Is that correct?”

  Lydell struggled to remember his manners. Normally any semblance of civility he reserved for people he assigned to his “class.” Ike Schwartz, the upstart Jewish sheriff, did not so qualify. But he knew enough not to aggravate him. “Yes, this is my grandson, Ben, Benjamin Harrison Winslow. You are aware of the Winslows, I believe.” Ike was. He’d made a phone call to his father, Abe. Abe knew everybody. He, in turn, had shaken the cherry tree and filled Ike in on Winslow, his law practice, partners and success, such as it was.

  “Nice to meet you.” Ike extended his hand which Winslow took. A fish hand, Ike thought.

  “The same,” Winslow replied.

  Niceties over, Ike spread the items from the tree stump before them. “Can you identify any or all of these?”

  Lydell sifted through them. He looked greedily at the pennies. With the right dates they could be worth a fortune. Ike knew they were worth anywhere from two dollars apiece to fifteen hundred dollars for an 1877 coin, depending on condition. Ike had not looked at the dates on the pennies in the box. Lydell fidgeted and looked like he was tempted. He’d called himself a packrat, and Ike wondered what held him back. Lydell avoided the key entirely and settled for the pistol, which he’d already acknowledged as his, and the box of ammunition.

  “The key? It’s not one of yours?”

  Lydell hesitated, a split second of indecision, should he or shouldn’t he? “No, not mine. Only these two things,” he said, and gestured toward the gun and shells. Then, as if the temptation became too great, he said, “Those pennies. What will you do with them?”

  “We’ll try to find the rightful owner, of course. Someone named Shorter, possibly. Failing at that, we’ll put them away until they can be appraised, and then we will sell them.”

  “But the boy who found them, wouldn’t they be his? I’d be more than happy to give him some money for them.”

  I bet you would, you old crook, Ike thought. “The problem with that is, he has been booked on a felony and released to his parents. There is a legal issue here as to whether he can profit from it, you see.” That was more than a stretch. Winslow’s eyes flickered. Ike could almost hear the wheels turning. In a minute, he guessed, Winslow would try for a value guess on the pennies.

  Thirty seconds later, Winslow cleared his throat. “Would you have any idea of the value of those pennies? They are rare, aren’t they?”

  “No idea,” Ike lied. “There are about forty of them. Last I heard they were going for two dollars apiece, but you never know.” Winslow deflated. “Okay, then as I told you, Mr. Lydell, I will have to keep this pistol as evidence for the time being. The box of ammunition I will keep as well. You can retrieve them when our investigation is complete.”

  “Do you honestly believe you will find that man’s murderer? It certainly doesn’t seem very promising to me.”

  “Oh yes, we’ll get him. Just a matter of time and good police work.” Ike lied for the second time. He guessed he might be headed for a liar’s record because he had a few more for Lydell before he’d turn him loose. “Are you sure I can’t get you something, coffee, water…?”

  “I’ll take a bottle of water,” Winslow said, and loosed his collar. Ike had deliberately closed the window before they came. Sweat’em, he’d thought. He retrieved three bottles of water from the little refrigerator in the break room. The bottles were recycled, probably illegally. They were
all refilled at the water fountain after being emptied by one or the other of the staff. Ike hoped they had remembered to wash them first.

  Lydell snapped open his pocket watch and made a show of checking the time. “Is there more?”

  “I need to take a statement from you about your daughter’s accident.”

  “I told you everything you wanted to know at the time. I can’t add to that.”

  “No? You see, there are a few things that seem out of place. Perhaps in the stress of the moment, you misspoke.”

  “What do you mean, misspoke? I told you exactly what happened.”

  “Yes, I see. You said your daughter had been drinking and that caused her fall.”

  “Yes, certainly. You were there. She positively reeked with bourbon.”

  “The coroner reports that all of the alcohol was on her clothes and in her mouth, not her stomach. Her blood showed only a trace. Perhaps she had a bottle in her hand and it spilled in the fall?”

  “Nonsense, the coroner’s a fool. He made a mistake. Everyone knew that Martha Marie drank to excess. I’m sorry you have to hear this, Ben. She was your mother after all. Sheriff, I’ll thank you to be more discreet under the circumstances.”

  Ike watched Winslow out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t look offended at all. Puzzled, but not offended. “I am sorry.” Winslow waved off the apology. “We also have a witness who says you and your daughter were arguing at the time.”

  “A witness you say? Ah, yes, we had a disagreement. Over what we would serve for dinner, if memory serves. I was standing at the foot of the stairs, Martha Marie, bless her soul, at the top. Well the liquor and…everything. She just toppled over.”

  Ike had seen some liars in his day. Most of them were convincing, their stories plausible. But this old man took the cake. He lied through his teeth.

  “I see. Just one more thing. Were you aware your daughter used cocaine?”

  “Sheriff, this is outrageous. I won’t have it.”

  “I’ll take that as a no. I have nothing more for you here. The body has been sent to Unger’s Funeral Home. We’re sorry for your loss.”