by Diane Morlan
Bernie sighed, crossed herself and began talking. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t even recognize him; he looks so much older. Prison must have aged him. It surely did make him bitter.
“I was sitting in one of the tents, watching a group of yodeling Bavarian singers. After the performance, I got up to leave. Wes got up as I walked down the center aisle and stood in front of me. ‘You lying bitch,” he hissed at me. ‘If you had kept your big mouth shut I never would’ve gotten locked up.’”
“Oh, Bernie,” I whispered. “Why was he so angry with you?”
“A few years ago, I noticed Wes pursuing a young girl after my weekly catechism class. She was really young, only about fourteen. The third time I spotted him, I told him to stop slinking around the girl or I would call the police. He actually spit on my shoe! Then he said I should mind my own business. I talked to the girl’s mother, but she didn’t believe the girl was in any danger. She said that Wes was a family friend. The stalking got worse with Wes camped out in front of this little girl’s house. When notes started showing up in the girl’s locker at school and hang-up phone calls at home, her mother finally called the police. My testimony, along with scads of evidence convicted him in a trial that lasted only two days.”
Megan said. “How awful for you. Were you frightened?”
“Not then, he was in jail. I didn’t know he was out until he accosted me today. You know, he even blames me for the breakup of his marriage.”
“How could that be your fault?” I asked.
“His wife, Martha came to see Fr. Werner when Wes went to jail. Fr. Werner was out of town, so Martha told me how abusive Wes had been. She didn’t know if she should wait for him or not. I told her that her she should stay away from Wes when he got out of jail, for her own safety. Of course, I couldn’t advise Martha to get a divorce but I did talk to her about a legal separation and told her about the shelter for battered women she could go to if she felt unsafe. Apparently, Martha chose to go the divorce route. She served Wes with divorce papers a few months after he went to prison.”
By the time she finished talking, Bernie had calmed down and granted she might need some help. “I’ll pray about it and God will take care of everything.”
“I’ll go make some tea,” Megan said, escaping to the kitchen, probably before telling Bernie that God helps those who help themselves. She’s not as devout as Bernie is, but would never denigrate her beliefs.
I said, “I’m sure your prayers will be answered, Bernie. But just to make sure, Megan and I are determined to find the person responsible for killing Wes. We want to make sure your good reputation is kept intact,” I said, sending up my own prayer that we could make this promise come true.
We told Bernie all we knew, which was incredibly little but when we pointed out that there were other suspects, she seemed to calm down.
“Bernie, you should also know that Martha now goes by Marty and she’s living with Edwin.”
“That’s who Edwin is living with? She’s much too young for him. Oh, my, that must be awful for you, Jennifer.” She patted my hand, thinking I needed comfort. I was so touched by her kindness, I couldn’t reply.
Megan didn’t have any trouble talking, though. “Bernie, we need to know who this girl is, if we’re going to help you.”
Bernie refused to tell us the name of the girl, even if it would put the suspicion on someone else. Megan tried to convince her it could’ve been the girl or one of her relatives who murdered Wes.
“You’ll have to find the killer without that information, Jennifer. I promised the girl not to tell anyone who she is, when Wes went to trial. If I refused to tell Fr. Werner, you can’t expect me to tell you.”
On the way back to Primo Gusto, Megan let me know that regardless of what Bernie said, we needed to know more about this girl Wes had been stalking.
“You’re right. Megan, I think we can find it in Bernie’s office. She must have grade books from her catechism classes. We need to figure out how to get access to them.
“Jennifer! You can’t burgle a church!”
“Of course not,” I said grinning wickedly. “I just need a little glance at her attendance records while she’s not in her office.”
“We are going to burn in hell for this.”
“Maybe Megan, but Bernie won’t go to jail. In the meantime I need to talk to Edwin about his new little sweetie.”
Megan stared at me as if I had told her I needed to discuss the theory of relativity with Einstein. “Well, good luck with that.
11
When I called Edwin and asked him to meet me he came up with one excuse after another. Finally he agree to meet me at a coffee shop in forty-five minutes. Why not a half hour or hour? I don’t know, that’s just Edwin’s way.
I decided to use the time to check out the next place on Laura’s list for the beer mug. Bavaria Haus is located on the east side of town, in a residential neighborhood. When I pulled up in front of the store, I noticed that it looked as if the front porch of the house had been closed in and shingled.
A sign on the door requested that bus tours call in advance. The inside of the cramped store was jam-packed with colorful items. Several shelves held packages of German food. I picked up a red tin labeled Dresdner Stollen. Next to it a blue box indicated it held Bergen Fish Soup starter. I spied a coffee bag labeled Jacobs’ Kroenung Coffee. I had to try this coffee to compare it to my own.
I picked up a green plastic shopping basket and dropped the bag of coffee into it. I passed on the chili flavored dark chocolate but grabbed two packages of Liquor-Filled - Raspberry in Orange Liqueur cookies. Megan and I would enjoy these.
The door opened and I heard a man greet the proprietor. “Marta, Honey, how are you today?”
I rounded the corner and saw a lady behind the counter. Her copper-colored hair was pulled into a sleek chignon at the nape of her neck. Al was standing in front of the counter. I backed up and listened. “Oh, you sweet-talker, you. Did you bring my order?”
“Sure did, darlin’. Is there room in the cooler for it?”
“Yah, second shelf, please. Here let me sign that.”
I peeked around the shelf I was hiding behind and saw Al coming through a door at the back of the store. He popped a white candy in his mouth and picked up the paper from the counter. “See you next week, Marta darling.”
“Oh, you,” she said, not finishing the sentence. She gave him a little punch on the arm and he turned and walked out.
“Can I help you find anything, dear?”
I jumped, then straightened up. It was obvious that I had been eavesdropping.
“I hope so,” I said, ignoring the blush I could feel creeping up my neck and warming my cheeks. Looking around the store, besides the food I saw German greeting cards, candy and toys. One shelf held Hermann souvenirs. I handed the picture of the Coca-Cola beer stein to her.
“Oh, this is lovely. But, I don’t have room to carry these types of items. You might try Zunker’s. They have lots of glassware.”
“Thanks. They were next on my list. Oh, is that German licorice?” I picked up an envelope with a picture of a cat on it labeled “Katjes Kinder.”
“Yes. Licorice cats. They’re tasty if you like black licorice.”
Dropping it in my basket I said, “Black is the only kind of licorice. The red stuff is just chewy candy.”
Laughing, she replied, “I agree. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, I’d better quit before I buy out the store.”
I stuffed the large bag of groceries in the trunk and got back into my car. I popped a licorice cat in my mouth and crossed Bavaria Haus off my list. I was beginning to realize that this little favor was costing me money as well as time.
I paced in front of the counter of the Kaffee Haus, waiting for Edwin. My purse was heavy with a five pound bag of coffee beans stuffed in it along with all my other necessities. I glanced at my watch, 2:10 PM, Edwin’s favorite control techniq
ue, making me wait for him.
It had been a major deal to get him to meet with me. Cheap-o Edwin refused to pay the six-dollar entrance fee to get onto the Fest Grounds. At first, he thought I might be trying to get him to come back to me. Fat chance of that, I had told him. When I said I wanted to discuss the divorce settlement, he decided to come right away. Agreeing to meet me at a coffee shop that did not buy their coffee from me was another of his passive-aggressive procedures. I suppose he thought I would cave into his outrageous demands to keep all our assets. What a sap.
The top was down on his new convertible when he pulled into the parking lot. I picked up my iced vanilla latte and chocolate biscotti. Sitting down I tried to look cool and distant. Hard to do when the sweat beads almost froze to my forehead in the air-conditioned coffee shop.
Edwin sauntered in, smoothing down his windblown hair. He by-passed the coffee counter and stood over me. “I haven’t got much time so let’s get right to it.”
What a pompous ass. I gave him my best sarcastic smile and motioned to the chair across from me. “Good to see you, too, Edwin. Please sit down.”
I took a sip of coffee and almost spit it out. The licorice cat I had just eaten made the coffee taste terrible. I took a bite of biscotti to take the licorice taste from my mouth.
Edwin scraped the chair away from the table and slapped down a manila file folder before he took a seat. “I don’t have time for small talk, Jenny. I hope you are finally ready to be reasonable about the settlement.”
“Don’t call me Jenny.” My automatic reply. “That attitude is not going to get me to sign a paper giving away everything we’ve worked for over the years.”
“Not everything. You can have the bedroom furniture, your car and your little coffee business. After all, I’m the one who worked for all the things I own.”
“We own!” I pounded my fist on the table. “I’m the one who worked to put you through Grad school. You wouldn’t be a CPA if I hadn’t taught third grade to support us. Besides, I’m the one who raised our two children.”
“Like raising kids is such a big deal.” As usual with Edwin, I shut up and let his sarcasm roll over me.
I inhaled deeply and answered. “I guess we’ll have to let the mediator help us work this out next week, okay?”
“Fine. But what did you want to meet for if you’re not going to sign these papers?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Marty. I think she may be in trouble.”
“Marty? What are you talking about? Why don’t you keep your nose out of my business?” Edwin often goes from perplexed to angry in two seconds flat. In fact, Edwin can go from any emotion to anger in a flash. His yelling is notorious among our friends and neighbors.
“Edwin, calm down and stop yelling before we get thrown out. Haven’t you heard about the murder?”
“Of course I heard about it. This is Hermann. Everybody in this hick town heard about the corpse you found sprawled across your coffee stand. So, what?”
“To be precise, he was on the floor next to my booth. Don’t you know who he was?”
“How would I know? I don’t hang around with those kinds of people.”
I bit my tongue. I tried to control my mouth. But alas, I could not help myself. I quipped, “You mean dead people?”
Before he could blow up again I added, “The man I found dead at the Fest Grounds was Wes Fischer, your girlfriend’s ex-husband.”
After he finished sputtering and became semi-reasonable again, I pumped him for information. “Where were you two last night? Edwin, the police will be questioning you. You need to remember the details.
“Marty and I are completely innocent. She’d never kill someone and neither would I. You know me well enough to know that, Jennifer.”
“I know, Edwin, but the police don’t know you. They’ll want to know your whereabouts.
“I was at home all night. Marty was at the high school gym for her Jazzercise class. She got home about eleven o’clock, which was later than usual. I’m sure she stopped for coffee with friends after class. Although I’ve told her time and again to come straight home.”
Since I didn’t know the time of death, I was clueless as to whether or not Marty had an alibi. This detecting stuff was harder than I had thought. I needed more information. I needed to talk to Jacobs or Detective Decker. It might be nice to see Decker again, I would have to think about how to do that.
“You’ve wasted half my day, Jennifer. I’m leaving. See you at the lawyer’s on Thursday.”
I watched him get into his sports car and then waited for a lull in business before I went up to the teenager behind the counter.
“Is the manager in?”
“No, he won’t be here for another hour. Is anything wrong?”
“Absolutely not, your service was great. But the coffee could be better.” Pulling a business card out of my purse, I scribbled a note on it and handed it to the employee along with a five pound bag of coffee. “Could you please give him this and let him know I’ll call him in a few days?”
“Sure. No problem.” He took the coffee and shoved it under the counter.
As soon as I got in the car, I called Megan. I tend to do a lot of multi-tasking in the car. The traffic in Hermann is usually light so I rationalize my bad driving habits. Megan agreed we needed to find out the time of death. “I guess we also need to know the cause of death. Gee, there is so much to this investigating stuff. I had no idea it would be so difficult.”
“You know, Jennifer, we don’t need to know who did it, we only need to prove Bernie didn’t do it.”
“I don’t know how to do that either. We’ll have to keep plugging along and see what we can find out. Right now I need to get back to the booth and relieve Sally.”
When I finally returned, Sally grabbed her tote bag and hurried out the door. “Off to class,” she called over her shoulder. Darn! I had been so distracted I forgot she taught beginners swimming to a group of elementary school girls every Saturday afternoon in the summer. She must have a world of patience.
“Hi, Jennifer,” Trudy called to me from her booth. “What a nice girl,” Trudy nodded toward the door as Sally exited. “I was so surprised the first time she came in and started working your booth.”
“You know Sally?” I asked.
“Oh, yah. She’s been dating Bobby for several months. Haven’t you seen her around here with him? She’s at the closing ceremony every night.”
“Bobby? Bobby Reinhart from your husband’s band? No, I didn’t know.”
“Oh, yah, sure. About a month after she and Bobby started dating, Sally stopped going to any of the bands’ gigs. She told Bobby something about not wanting to be a ‘groupie.’ But I think it had something to do with Wes. When Wes tried to talk to her, she’d move away as if she hadn’t heard him. After a few weeks she started to come to our gigs again but she never did look at Wes. And Wes just kept away from her. I don’t think she ever said a word to him in the three months she’s been dating Bobby. They’re such a cute couple.”
I stood there, trying to process that information. I’d never even met Bobby but he might be trying to protect Sally. Looking at Trudy I thought, “What’s wrong with this picture?”
It was too quiet. I didn’t hear the clicking of bobbins coming from Trudy’s booth. When I paid attention, I saw her crocheting a charming piece of lace using thread instead of yarn and a tiny silver hook. “Wow, what are you making?”
“A doily. Actually, I prefer to crochet but people like to watch me make bobbin lace so I usually do that at craft fairs. Crochet is much more relaxing.”
As I watched the thread whip through her fingers, I became mesmerized. “It looks intense to me. I crochet, but only with yarn. I’ve made a few afghans but nothing as elegant as your doily.”
“You come out to my Lace Haus and I’ll teach you how to crochet with thread. The stitches are the same and you’ll get used to working with thread instead of yarn. Once you get the ha
ng of it, I know you’ll love it, too.”
“If you say so. I would love to learn. I’ll take you up on that if I ever get any free time.” We talked about when that might be while I pumped her about what she knew about Bobby, the only member of her husband’s band that I had not met. I would talk to Sally later when she got back from her swim class.
“Trudy, have you heard any more about Wes’ murder? I mean do they know time and cause of death?”
‘I haven’t heard anything about when but I sure know how.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled by this remark.
She reached into a canvas tote bag and held up a long red knitting needle. “Why, Jennifer, didn’t you see my other number ten sticking out of his neck?”
Confused, I asked inanely, “You knit, too?”
“Yah, and I feel sort of bad about leaving my needles out on in the open.” Trudy said, ignoring my perplexity. “I was trying to finish a scarf before closing. I got the last row bound off just as everyone was leaving and the Fest Meister was waiting to lock up. I tucked the scarf in my tote bag, but left the needles on the table.”
I had been so shocked at seeing a dead body I hadn’t looked at the details. Trudy was much more observant, but, after all, it was her knitting needle. When she showed me its twin, I understood how I could have missed it, a red aluminum needle about a foot long with a pointed end. It seemed to me this person had not planned to kill Wes or the killer would have brought a weapon. From what I had heard today, plenty of people had reason to do away with the scoundrel. Somehow I needed to figure out who actually followed through.
When Sally returned from teaching her class, she had barely put down her bag when we had a rush of customers, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. The booth stayed busy until almost seven o’clock when Sally’s shift ended. After Sally left, I took a minute to call Megan. We needed to make a plan.
I told Megan about Trudy’s knitting needle being the murder weapon and she agreed that the murder probably wasn’t planned.
