by Anna Drake
Andrew accepted my silence without further comment and resumed his report. “The coroner estimated the time Mazor died at somewhere around midnight. He’d apparently been shot in the chest.
"Shot?"
Andrew nodded. "They found little evidence anywhere near the body beyond your skid marks and a single foot print in a man’s size nine. Since the victim wore a size eleven shoe, they suspect the print belongs to the killer. Also It was some special kind of brand. Kinda rare, I guess. They mentioned its name, so I’ll recognize the shoe if I come across it.”
I put my knife down. “A man’s shoe print? This case hinges on a man’s shoe?”
“I’m only telling you what I heard. The only other important point is that Mazor wasn’t killed where he was found. He’d apparently been dragged to where you ran into him. But those tracks didn’t lead very far. So police don’t know exactly which direction the killer came from.”
“And I was just the lucky duck to run headfirst into the mess.”
Andrew grinned. “Don’t worry. Oberton’s not holding it against you.”
“And I’m so glad to hear it.” Having finished chopping chicken, I set a small bowl of it aside for my cat, and grabbed an onion to add to my portion.
“That may be,” Andrew responded, “but the bigger issue is what can we do to help the police?”
I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”
“Look, Oberton and his men are back there moving along at a snail’s pace. While here you and I are, fleet of foot and totally unemployed.”
I turned a dark gaze on Andrew. “I have no intention of getting involved in this case.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know the victim. Because no one I know is involved in any way with this death. And because I don’t want to. The last time I became involved with a murder was bad enough.”
“But what about your civic duty? Oberton could use a hand. He’s terribly short of staff. You know that as well as I do. Besides, we can do things he can’t.”
I scoffed. “Do you really think we can find the person who killed Mazor?”
“I do. In fact, I’d say we’re getting good at it. I bet you’ve already pumped Megan for information, haven’t you? Come on. Fess up.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Well, I might have.”
“So, what did she say?”
I filled him in on what Megan had told me, which wasn’t all that much. But Andrew fixated on the bit about the car.
“Okay,” he said. "I think we should go drop in on Mr. Brooks.”
I scooped up the chopped onion and added it to the larger bowl. In the distance someone fired up a lawn mower. I stood there listening to its shrill whine.
“Come on,” Andrew said. “Say something.”
I cleared my throat. “I doubt a dispute over the price of a car triggered a murder. I can’t see it playing out that way.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
My cat, Blackie, strolled into the room and jumped up to the top of the fridge. He was excessively fond of my daily protein and liked to watch me while I worked in the kitchen.
I grabbed a stalk of celery. “It sounds like a flimsy case to put forward to me.”
Andrew floated nearer. “Let’s assume Megan’s right about that fight, and it was Brooks who killed Mazor. Who’s to say there isn’t some evidence in Brooks’ house that would convict him? Like a size nine shoe or even the murder weapon? If I went there, I could search through his entire house in short order. You know that.”
“I’ll think it over while I eat.”
“Oh come on,” Andrew protested. “That only gives Brooks more time to hide the evidence.”
Regrettably, I realized he had a point. Plus, I knew Andrew was good about staying invisible. It was doubtful he’d be seen. There was very little to lose by approving this junket. So I nodded. “Okay, go ahead. I’ll be waiting here when you get back.”
“Come with me.”
I put the knife down and stared up at him. “What?”
“You heard me. Come along.”
“Why would I? I can’t skip through that man’s house unseen.”
“No, but you can distract him. Guarantee he doesn’t accidentally spot me. Besides, it strengthens Oberton’s chances when he seeks a search warrant if you can tell him you were inside the house.”
I don’t know exactly why I agreed to the suggestion. Maybe, on some level it sounded like fun. Plus, I didn’t want any trouble over the search warrant. But after tossing a piece of plastic wrap over the two bowls of chopped chicken, I looked up at Blackie and said, “I’m sorry love, but you’ll have to wait for lunch until we return home.”
Blackie reared back and sent out a hiss in Andrew’s direction. Then he jumped down from his perch, turned his back on Andrew and me, and with tail raised high in quivering disgust, he marched his way out of the room.
***
Out on the sidewalk, I was struck again by how lovely the day was. Sunshine warmed my face. The scent of recently mown grass drifted around me. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago I had come face to face with a corpse.
Andrew and I walked quickly forward. We had only one more block to go now to reach our destination. I glanced about me at this dear neighborhood I now called home.
There are only a couple of dozen or so houses on this side of the river. All vintage, but some are more so than others. My place was a sweet clapboard affair with a wraparound porch on three sides and a charming little cupola on the roof. It looked to be of southern origins to me. With its long, narrow windows reaching nearly to the floor, I thought it probably had been built sometime during the Civil War.
But this place we walked toward now, I suspected, only dated back to the late 1800s, to the age of the robber barons. It was massive and looked similar to houses I’d seen in the pristine and exclusive suburbs north of Chicago. Constructed of stone, this house stood tall and imposing in the mid-day sunlight.
It was the kind of place that made people, seeing it from the other side of the river, assume that everyone living over here was rich. Which wasn’t the case at all — at least not with me.
“What do you think of this pile of stones?” I asked Andrew.
“I think it’s impressive, which I assume is what its original owner would want me to think. Come to that, the current resident probably feels that way too.”
“Yes, but why would a guy who could afford a mansion buy an old car from a high school janitor? From the looks of his house, I would think Brooks could own any car he pleased.”
Andrew frowned. “Maybe he is a collector of cars. Maybe the car was a valuable antique.”
“That might explain it, I suppose.”
Andrew chuckled. “Or maybe, Brooks doesn’t have as much money as he once did. Maybe he’s managed to cling to this house but has very little cash left.”
“He could always take out a reverse mortgage,” I mumbled uncharitably.
“What’s that?”
“Never mind, it’s a recent invention. One I wouldn’t expect you to know much about.”
Andrew scowled. He disliked being reminded that his knowledge was sometimes out of date. “You can pull up a page explaining the subject on your computer, and I’ll read up on it.”
That was one weakness with Andrew. As a ghost, he couldn’t lift things, or pull drawers out, or tap keyboards. So his searches could be a little less than thorough. But what he lacked in physical abilities, he more made up for with sheer nosiness and determination. And if he had a mind to, he could even slide inside a closed drawer. I’d yet to send him on an assignment that he couldn’t find some way to fulfill.
We came to the sidewalk leading to the home. I turned and started forward. As we drew nearer to the house, I witnessed clear signs of decay. The trim needed a fresh coat of paint. The roof looked as though it had neared the end of its life. The lawn could use better care.
I strode up to the mas
sive front door and pulled the bell. We stood there a long moment. At last I heard footsteps and soon a man opened the door. He was probably about my age, somewhere in his middle sixties. But he had a bulbous nose and closely cropped wiry hair. He studied me with a sour expression on his face. “May I help you?”
Face to face with the guy, I suddenly found myself squirming. After all we were here to invade his private space on a fairly flimsy excuse. I cleared my throat. “I hope so,” I said. I gave him my name and pulled a donation card for the library from my purse. I’d volunteered to collect on their behalf at the last session of our knitting group. One of our members had suckered me into the mission. And now I stood before this man smiling sweetly. “I’m collecting on behalf of the Hendricksville library.”
Brooks snorted. “Waste of good money, that place is.”
My eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”
“Bunch of useless women, reading stupid books. You won’t catch me blowing my money on that nonsense.”
“But the children…? Don’t you care about them?”
“They’ll be more productive if they learn something practical. Take up a trade. They should try plumbing or maybe something electrical.”
“But before that, while they’re still children. Surely you’d not deny them the joy of reading?”
“Why not?”
I switched gears, became an actress. Staggering backwards, I clamped my hand to my chest. “Oh, dear.”
Brooks’ eyebrows pushed their way up into his forehead. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry. I feel dizzy. Maybe if I could come in and sit for a minute?”
I might have felt more guilty about deceiving this guy if he’d had a better attitude toward books or even people. As far as I was concerned, if guilty, this man deserved to be exposed for his crime.
He shook his head. “You could go over to Buela Clap’s place across the street. She might take you in.”
I tipped sideways, putting myself nearly at risk of falling off of his porch. “I feel so faint,” I protested. “I don’t think I could make it that far.”
“Okay,” he said, relenting, “come in and sit in the hall for a minute.”
“Thank you. You’re terribly kind.” I wobbled forward into a large central hall and took up my seat on the small settee he pointed me toward. I glanced up at him. “Do you think I might have some water?”
I half expected him to charge me for the use of the glass. But he surprised me.
“Stay put and don’t touch anything.” Scowling, he padded off into the depths of the house.
The hall I sat in was panelled with a lovely dark wood. The floor was made of large squares of white tile, their edges trimmed by small black bits. A lovely chandelier hung overhead. A couple of tables hugging the walls sported vases that probably cost nearly as much as my house.
I gripped my handbag and wondered how long it would be before I could leave. I wasn’t frightened so much as offended. The man had the manners of a goat. Although, I admitted to myself grudgingly, he got two points for fetching me water.
It was several minutes before he returned bearing a glass. I wondered if he’d been pokey about it in hopes he might find me gone when he returned?
“Thank you,” I said, accepting the water. I sipped, lowered the glass, and sighed. “It’s been such an awful day. I think that’s the problem.”
“Really? Mine hasn’t been that good, either.”
I ignored his comment. “I found a dead body this morning.”
“Where?”
“In the front lawn of a house on the other side of the river.”
He harrumphed. “This town isn’t what it once was. Kids have no respect for anything today. You're telling me there’s been a dead body found on a front lawn in our town?”
“Yes, the man’s name was Calvin Mazor. Did you know him?”
This man’s watery eyes stared into the distance. “Can’t say I did.”
Right then, I began to doubt that this man was the killer. He seemed too calm, too self assured.
His glance drifted back at me. “Guess that’s bad luck for you, finding a corpse. What were you doing over on that side of town, anyway?”
I explained about Hugh and his gerbil.
“A gerbil,” he snorted. “In my day, nobody ever kept gerbils. Dogs maybe. Cats sometimes. But gerbils?” He lowered his gaze to the glass in my hand. I raised it to my lips and took a second sip.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes. I think this water is just what I needed.”
Suddenly Andrew whispered in my ear, telling me the house was clear and that we could leave.
I rose from my seat, took a third sip of water, handed the glass back. “Thank you so much. You’ve been terribly kind. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to donate to the library?”
In response that that question, he nearly slammed the door on me before I got through it.
“Well,” I said, stepping down onto the sidewalk, “isn’t he a peach?”
Andrew’s spoke while remaining hidden from view. “Maybe, but he isn’t a killer. Not only did he not have a fancy pair of tennis shoes in his closet, he didn’t have any tennis shoes at all. And there wasn’t a gun to be found anyplace, either. Believe me, I looked.”
“He could have thrown the shoes out and the gun, too. Or maybe they’re in his house, but they’re hidden.”
“Either way, we’re not going to find them.”
***
Back home, I pulled the bowls of chopped chicken and a jar of mayo from the fridge. “What do we do next?” I muttered. I deposited the bowls and jar on the counter and grabbed a large mixing spoon.
At that moment, Blackie raced into the kitchen and pulled to an abrupt halt next to my feet. He sat, gazed up at me, and mewed.
“Oh, you poor thing,” I said, bending over and petting him. “You must be starving.”
“Please,” Andrew folded his arms over his chest. “That cat is the most spoiled creature I’ve ever seen. Skipping a meal would do him no harm at all.”
Blackie twisted his head to glance at Andrew and pushed his ears back.
“Nonsense,” I said. I grabbed his bowl of chicken and placed it on the floor. Blackie circled my ankles twice before tearing into the gift.
Andrew snorted in disgust. “Now, could we please get back to the murder?”
“You’re just jealous, that’s all.”
“Don’t be silly.”
I snickered. “Whatever.”
“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I think we should turn our attention to the neighbors.”
My brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “The neighbors? What have they done?” I mixed mayo into the chicken and then fixed myself a sandwich, adding lettuce and tomato on top of the chicken salad. I put the sandwich on a little plate, cut it in half diagonally, and carried it to the breakfast bar. Andrew followed along behind me.
“Hetty, ask yourself why the body was found there in that front yard. Why wasn’t it hidden in a forest someplace where it might not be discovered for weeks, if ever? Why was it lying there in the front yard of a house, where it was bound to be uncovered by some passing dog or in an unlikely case, by some doting grandmother on a hunt for a gerbil?”
I chewed and swallowed. “And these questions tell you what?”
“That we need to expand our investigation.”
“But Brooks might still be the killer. He hasn’t really been ruled out.” Some small part of me still wanted him to be our man.
“Right,” Andrew responded, “but don’t you see? If we want to get to the bottom of the murder quickly, our best hope now is that Brooks is innocent.”
“Ah, you’re saying If he is the killer, we’re sunk, but if he isn’t, we still have a chance at solving this case.”
“Exactly. And with your grandson’s high opinion of you on the line, I’d like to get crackin’.”
“Wait a minute, Hugh's opinion of me w
as over the gerbil.”
“Don’t you think he’s gonna expect you to solve the murder, too?”
I took another bite of sandwich and considered this latest rub. “So we don’t think this was a planned murder, do we?”
“What do you mean?”
“It looks more like a crime of the moment, an intense rage that overruled the killer’s better judgement. And after the shooting, the killer panicked. The only thought was to get rid of the body as quickly as possible.”
“That’s my thinking, too. And why there? Because the killer might not have been able for some reason to take the body elsewhere.”
“Why not?” I slipped the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth while Andrew wrestled with my question.
“Maybe the killer lacked the strength to get the body into a car trunk. Or maybe the car was broken down? Mazor wasn’t a large man, but he wasn’t small either. Maybe the killer didn’t have much choice over how far such a dead weight could be hauled. The police said the corpse had been dragged for a ways.”
Andrew cast his gaze on me and smiled in satisfaction. “So that’s why I say the killer must be one of the neighbors.”
“Maybe I need to go back to Megan’s place and extend out little chat.”
Andrew nodded.
And by the time I finished fishing additional information on the neighbors from Megan, I was fairly certain I knew exactly who the killer was. The only question was, why I hadn’t realized it earlier?
When I explained my plan to Andrew, he had only one objection. “You’ll have to come with me again when I search the house. As I’ve suggested: if Oberton obtains a search warrant based on what you told him you found inside the house, the killer has to believe you could have seen the objects. Otherwise, he’ll tell his lawyer it couldn’t have happened. And that lawyer will stand a good chance of getting whatever evidence Oberton obtained tossed out of court.”
I understood his argument, and regretfully, I agreed that I had to take part again in Andrew’s search of the suspect’s house.
