by Mike Befeler
“So?”
“My granddaughter and I checked it out, and it turns out I paid for a stuffed animal in a shop called Toys ’n Stuff on the Pearl Street Mall.” I paused.
“Go on, Mr. Jacobson.”
“The shop proprietor and only employee is a man named Benjamin Slade. I gave him a fifty-dollar bill and received two twenties in change. I suggest you visit Mr. Slade and investigate him. He should have a large amount of cash tomorrow when he opens the shop.”
“And why would that be?”
“Because he thinks he’s buying a number of valuable stuffed animals. He’ll have cash that, if my guess is correct, will be some of the money you’re looking for. When you put pressure on him like you’re always doing with me, maybe he’ll confess. And you’ll find that I had nothing to do with the bank robbery.”
“Quite a story, Mr. Jacobson.”
“It’s absolutely true,” Jennifer said. “I spoke to Benjamin Slade. He tried to cheat me, but he’s greedy enough that he’ll bring some of his stolen loot to his shop tomorrow. You can catch him red-handed.”
“What are you two up to?”
“Just check it out, Detective.”
“Now, the matter at hand. I recently mentioned to you that you’d been near every crime except drugs. Looks like you’re making up for that now.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I understand, but I want to hear from you what you witnessed on the mall.”
“We had something to eat, I threw away the bag and your undercover guys arrested a man.”
Lavino laughed. “The undercover officer reported that you threw something away just before a drug bust.”
“Show the detective the receipt for our food, Grandpa.”
I reached in my shirt pocket and extracted a receipt that I handed to Lavino.
“Two cheeseburgers, an order of fries and two milk shakes,” Jennifer said. “If you go back and check the trash can, you’ll find two wrappers, a fries container and two cups in the brown paper bag that my grandpa put in the trash container. And his fingerprints will be all over our trash, but not the drug bag.”
“My granddaughter knows what she’s saying. Now, Detective, we need to mosey along.”
* * * * *
That evening I changed into slacks and a clean long sleeve dress shirt. I sauntered into the hallway and called up the stairs to Jennifer.
Moments later she came bounding down. “Yes, Grandpa?”
“I need your assistance.”
We went into my room, and I pointed toward the two pictures on my dresser. “I can’t tell the difference between Marion and Helen.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Grandpa, we’ve been over this before. The one on the left is Marion.”
“Good. I wanted to make absolutely sure.”
At precisely 6:45 a car beeped in front of the house.
“I’m off for an evening with my younger friends,” I said.
“What does that mean?” Denny asked as he looked up from a Smithsonian magazine.
“Young people. You know, in their seventies.”
I jumped in Nate Fisher’s brown Buick, and as he looked to his left to pull away from the curb, I surreptitiously placed an object on the floor.
“I didn’t know they had a Senior Center in the community building,” Nate said. “I’ve only visited the playground but never been inside.”
“It’s quite a facility. They have all kinds of activities, so you may want to look into other things as well.”
When we arrived, I set my plan in motion. I introduced Helen and Nate to each other and suggested we find chairs. I made sure that Helen sat between Nate and me. Helen was decked out in a pretty blue flower-patterned frock. Perfect.
“Helen, Nate is quite a gardener.”
“Is that right?” She turned toward him, and suddenly they became engaged in begonias, petunias, mums and crab grass prevention. Then the movie started and we settled in to watch Betty Grable, Marilyn Monroe and Lauren Bacall scheme to marry millionaires. I purposely sat away from Helen and noticed that her body had shifted toward Nate. Success!
Halfway through, the video stopped and a woman in a bright green dress stood up, clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and announced an intermission, with refreshments being served in the back of the room. Chairs scraped as a mad shuffle toward the restrooms ensued. I stood up and noticed that Nate and Helen had re-engaged in perennials, annuals and leaf worm. I slipped away and picked up two cups of punch and several cookies that I took back and offered to my companions. They accepted the refreshments without even looking up at me. Things were progressing even better than I expected.
Then I made my final move. “Nate and Helen,” I said, “I'm feeling a little under the weather, so I think I’m going to head home.”
Nate looked up, concern on his face. “Do you need a ride?”
I waved my hand. “No. It’s a short walk. I could use the fresh air.”
Nate looked relieved.
I said my good-byes, and they continued their animated conversation, now into soil acidity, root care and grafting.
* * * * *
At home I immediately went into my room and admired the picture of Marion on my dresser. Helen’s picture now rested in Nate’s car.
Chapter 15
I felt better now. Things had returned to a natural state. I had one woman in my life, and Marion would be back soon to visit me again. Now my main goal remained to clear my good name. That and stay alive a day at a time.
I decided I needed to have a confab with my lawyer, so I went to Jennifer’s room.
“We’re making good progress on the crime-scene front, but there’s one other issue we need to address,” I said. “We need to figure out what happened to the money stolen from the bake sale at the swim meet.”
Jennifer scrunched up her nose. “Yes. We need to do something. I’ll check it out at the club tomorrow.”
“You do that if you expect to earn another Hawaiian stuffed animal.”
“Oh, Grandpa. I’ll earn it fair and square.”
* * * * *
The next morning Jennifer took off for the club, eager to start tracking down the culprit from the great bake sale heist. I settled in for a morning of watching Allison defeat the Sudoku puzzle gods and listening to Max whine as he tried to convince me to take him for a walk. Then the ringing doorbell interrupted my busy schedule. Max’s ears perked up.
“Don’t lose your concentration,” I said to Allison as I ambled over to open the door while Max growled. A guy my height, a little younger than me, but with thinning white hair, stood there. “Paul, may I speak with you?”
He knew me, but who the hell was he? Nate Fisher?
“Sure, let’s take a walk.” I turned and shouted to Allison. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
She didn’t even look up. “All right, Paul.”
I stepped outside and closed the door. “Those damn puzzles are more addictive than heroin . . . Now, what can I do for you?”
He cleared his throat as we sauntered down the walkway toward the sidewalk. “Well, it’s regarding last night. I know Helen is your friend, but she and I hit it off so well.”
It was Nate! I held up my hand. “Say no more. Helen and I are only acquaintances. We don’t have that much in common, whereas you two gardening fanatics fit like two eyes in a face.”
Nate looked relieved. “Thanks, Paul. I really like her and think she likes me. I didn’t want to interfere if you . . . you know . . . had something going.”
“Not to worry.” I clapped him on the back. “She’s all yours. As long as you don’t try to have me arrested for sawing down trees.”
He gave me a wan smile. “No, I know now I shouldn’t have blamed you for that. But I’d still like to find the bastard who destroyed my trees.”
“The police will be on it hot and heavy. The guy should be strung up by his thumbs any day now.”
“That would b
e too good for him.”
Wow. This guy Nate really loved his trees. Must have been like if someone tried to take Allison’s Sudoku puzzles away.
We strolled on, and Nate said, “You know, Paul, a strange thing happened last night.”
“Other than the magic in the air?”
“Yeah. When I returned home last night, I noticed something on the floor of my car—on the passenger’s side.”
“Do tell.”
“I found a picture of Helen.”
“Imagine that.”
We circled the block, and when we arrived back in front of Denny’s house, I remembered something from my journal. “Wait right here.” I scooted inside and retrieved the cardboard box of Beanie Babies.
Back outside, I handed the box to Nate. “Thanks for the loan.”
“I still can’t figure out what you needed a box of Beanie Babies for.”
“Undercover work.”
* * * * *
When Jennifer skipped into the house after swim practice, she had a smug look on her puss.
“You look like the cat that swallowed a flock of canaries.”
“Yes, indeed.” Her chin wagged up and down. “I made progress on tracking down a suspect for the bake sale heist.”
“Give me the details.”
“Well, I started snooping around during practice, asking if anyone had extra money. No clues there. But afterwards I went up to Barb, who runs the snack concession at the club. And guess what I found out?”
“That Barb fences candy for the Mafia?”
“No.” She stomped her foot. “Barb told me that one Jeremy Wilkins had been buying lots of candy and cookies.”
“And this raises suspicion because he’s diabetic or something?”
Jennifer glared at me. “Grandpa, pay attention.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Jeremy’s mom never gives him money to buy snacks. She only wants him to eat fruit and yogurt, which she provides for him in a cooler every day.”
“So suddenly Jeremy becomes the high roller of the candy set.”
“You got it, Grandpa.”
“Have you busted him yet?”
The corners of her mouth raised in a delighted grin. “I have a plan. I enlisted Neal to check out his locker. I’ll have a full report tomorrow.”
“I’d hate to be Jeremy with you on the case.”
She punched her right fist into her left hand. “Nobody escapes the Jennerator. Nobody.”
I wondered what I had unleashed. Maybe I should have turned her over to the American Bar Association ethics committee before she went too far.
* * * * *
And the next day, true to her word, Jennifer sat down with me when she returned from swim practice. “It’s all worked out now,” she said.
“Meaning?”
“Like I told you yesterday, Jeremy Wilkins has become my chief suspect. Neal had a chance to look in his locker before swim practice today and what do you think he found?”
“Parts for weapons of mass destruction?”
“No.” She glared at me. Then her smile returned. “A wad of cash. And not neatly organized. Loose bills tossed inside. Like someone had grabbed them from the bake sale.”
“There might be some other explanation.”
“Possible, but that’s not the case. I confronted Jeremy in the clubhouse after practice today, and he confessed.”
“What kept him from pleading innocent?”
“A little friendly persuasion.” Jennifer held her fist up. “Nobody gets away from this. Nobody.”
I laughed. “I’ve created a monster.”
“No. Only a very focused and motivated enforcer.”
“I know. I owe you one more Hawaiian stuffed animal.”
“That’s right.” She gave me her sweetest smile.
* * * * *
That afternoon I sat in the living room and calculated how much of my social security check would be going to paying off Jennifer. Oh well. Pay me now or pay me later. Whatever money remained when I kicked the bucket would be going to Denny, Allison and Jennifer anyway.
The ever-ringing doorbell jangled, and I lifted my old body up to answer the door as Max skidded to a stop in front of me. Two men in suits stood there, one tall skinny one and the other with a mole on his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not interested in a subscription to Watchtower.”
The taller of the two said, “Very funny, Mr. Jacobson. We need to speak to you.”
“And you are?”
They both held out police identification. “Detectives Lavino and Hamilton. You’re each investigating a murder.”
“Very good,” Lavino said. He turned to his companion. “Mr. Jacobson always comes up with the most interesting things he remembers.”
“Hey, I aim to please. Anything I can do to help the Fraternal Order of Police.”
Hamilton nodded. “May we come inside to talk?”
“Be my guest,” I said. “You gentlemen can sit on the couch.”
They settled in, and I sat down in a chair facing them. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“As you so eloquently stated, we’re both investigating interlocking murder cases,” Lavino said.
“I thought different police jurisdictions didn’t cooperate much with each other,” I said.
“That’s a myth.” Lavino gave Hamilton a wink. “We work together when there’s a link between crimes in each of our cities. Both victims worked as salesmen for Colorado Mountain Retirement Properties. Ring a bell?”
“Although I don’t remember specifically, I have read notes I made in my diary concerning the two murders.”
“And, Mr. Jacobson,” Lavino continued. “You’ve mentioned to me numerous times that you had suspicions regarding the legitimacy of the victims’ company.”
“That’s right. I’m convinced that outfit has been perpetrating fraud.”
“And we agree with your conclusion,” Hamilton said. “Through the cooperative efforts of our two departments, we are investigating the president of the company, Peter Kingston.”
I clapped my hands together. “Good work, Detectives. How soon will you have him locked up?”
“These things take time,” Hamilton said.
“Have you linked him to the two murders as well?”
Hamilton shook his head. “No, he’s innocent of the murders. He didn’t fly back from Hawaii when Daniel Reynolds was murdered, and he had business in New York when Randall Swathers died.”
“Too bad,” I said. “I remember reading that Kingston was a lawyer. He would have been a good candidate to be arrested for whacking two of his sales people.”
Lavino wrinkled his forehead and leaned forward. “That’s still the interesting part. We’ve been able to find only one person who was both on the plane and at the Centennial Community Center: you, Mr. Jacobson.”
I gulped. “There has to be someone else. Or maybe two killers.” I thought over what I had read. “The really suspicious guy is Gary Previn.”
“I’ve spoken to you in regard to this before,” Lavino said. “Previn was on the plane so he remains a person of interest for the first murder, but he was at the Boulder Public Library at the time of the second murder. That leaves only you, Mr. Jacobson, at the scenes of both crimes.”
“There needs to be a motive. I had no motive to kill anyone.”
Hamilton smacked his lips like he had spied a big piece of pie a la mode. “In comparing notes with Detective Lavino, we found a pattern. On the plane you argued with the victim about the treatment of old people.”
Lavino smiled. “And at the Community Center, you threatened Randall Swathers minutes before his death.”
I sat there trying to get my bearings.
Hamilton pointed his right index finger at me. “Is there any chance, Mr. Jacobson, that you have anger management problems?”
“Only when detectives ask me dumb questions.”
“Are yo
u threatening us, Mr. Jacobson?” Hamilton said.
In spite of the situation, I couldn’t contain myself. I laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. I limit my anger to a few cuss words and shouting at people once in awhile. That’s it.”
Lavino frowned. “This is very serious, Mr. Jacobson. We need your full disclosure.”
“Detective Lavino, I know you mean well, but you’ve been pestering me about a whole list of things I didn’t do.”
“I’m not convinced of your innocence,” Hamilton said. “Both victims were killed after you had arguments with them. And the murder on the plane—you were the one who was seen striking the victim right before he was found dead.”
My decrepit mind started churning, and suddenly I realized something. “Wait a minute. I didn’t strike him, only shoved him. Reynolds must have already been dead when I pushed him off my shoulder. He looked all gray.”
The detectives look at each other.
“You never mentioned that before, Mr. Jacobson,” Hamilton said.
“I just made the connection. So keep searching for the murderer. Someone else dispatched Reynolds and Swathers. It wasn’t me.”
At that moment a cell phone chimed, and Hamilton reached into his pocket and snapped open a tiny instrument. “Hamilton here . . . yeah . . . right.” He flipped it closed and stood up. “I need to handle another case ASAP.”
“I’ll spend some more time with Mr. Jacobson,” Lavino said.
“Gee, you give me such personalized attention,” I replied.
Hamilton strode to the door and exited the scene.
“Very intense fellow,” I said to Lavino.
“A lot more crime in Denver than Boulder, Mr. Jacobson.”
“I’m glad to hear our sleepy little burg isn’t the crime capital of Colorado.”
“We still have our fair share.”
“I’m curious. I gave you the license plate number of the guy who had been sawing down trees in a neighbor’s yard. Have you collared the rascal yet?”
Lavino leveled his gaze at me. “You understand I don’t have to share any information with you.”
“I realize that, Detective. But as a citizen concerned over local crime in our neighborhood, I was just wondering.”
“Becoming more civic-minded?”
