“You do realize that neither of us are men, right?” Amy asked.
“Do you know who his friends were or who his boss was?” Heather asked.
“I have an invoice from a hammock right here, man,” Brogan said, handing it over. “Would this help you find him?”
“I think so,” Heather said. “At least we can find the warehouse where he worked.”
“And then we can find out which name was the right one,” Amy agreed.
“I’m pretty sure it’s Terry,” Brogan said.
The Warehouse
Heather and Amy went to address listed on Brogan's hammock invoice to the Weir Warehouse. It was a large building that didn't have much of a view of the ocean, unlike many of the stores on the island.
They weren’t sure where they should go or who to talk to exactly, but they entered through the first door they saw and stood in a large room with shelving and boxes.
“Where…?” Amy began.
"Weir?" An employee holding a large box said as he passed by them. "Try up in the office."
They heeded his advice and knocked on a door that looked like the boss’s office.
“Come in,” the man said, not looking up from his papers.
“Hello,” Heather said. “We’re looking for-“
“If it’s a package, I’m sure it will be delivered to you soon,” the large man said. “We have to process everything and then send it out. So, don’t worry about your new hairdryer or whatever it is you’re waiting for. It will come when it’s ready.”
“We’re private investigators looking for the identity of a murder victim,” Heather said with a coolness in her voice. “We believe he worked here. Should we get the police to shut down your business and conduct this interview? Or do you want to talk to us now?”
“Private investigators?” the man murmured. “Murder?”
He stopped playing with his papers and gave them his full attention.
“I’m sorry about that. We get people who wander in looking for their packages early, and our business doesn't work like that. Again, I'm sorry. I have nothing but respect for investigators." He cleared his throat. "I'm Bill Weir."
“Oh,” Amy said, understanding the interaction from before. “Where. Weir.”
“Now what is this all about?” Bill Weir asked.
“We believe it is about one of your employees,” Heather said. “A delivery boy.”
“Or a delivery person,” Amy said.
“And you’re saying he’s dead?”
“Yes,” Heather said. “He was killed this morning.”
Bill Weir sat down. “This is terrible. I can’t believe it happened. Are you sure?”
"Not completely," Heather said. "He didn't have any identification on him. We questioned shop owners on the street to see if they recognized his description. One of them gave us an invoice for a package that he delivered. It led us back here."
“That sounds like he does work here then,” Bill Weir said. “What is his name?”
Heather and Amy exchanged a look.
“To be honest, we’re not sure,” Heather said. “He gave different names to different people.”
“That’s strange,” Bill Weir said, frowning.
"He had shaggy brown hair and often wore a blue baseball cap," Heather said.
“John,” Bill Weir said. “That must be John.”
“Our John Doe is actually a John?” Amy asked surprised.
“What’s his last name?” Heather asked.
“Smith,” Bill said avoiding eye contact.
“Is that his real last name?” Heather asked.
“You’re just trying to solve a murder, right?” Bill Weir asked. “You’re not interested in other little things that police might be.”
“It depends on how little,” Heather said. “But our main focus is finding the killer.”
Bill Weir sighed and then decided to tell them. “I don’t know if John Smith is his real last name. He’s not an official employee here.”
“What do you mean?” asked Heather.
“I needed some extra help on weekends, so I let the kid make some deliveries for me. But I just paid him under the table. I didn’t put him officially on the books. I thought it would be too much of a hassle because he only worked sporadically,” Bill Weir said. “But he seemed like a good kid. He always made his deliveries on time. I don’t know why someone would want to kill him.”
“Do you know why he was telling everyone, probably even you, a false name?” Heather asked.
“No,” Bill Weir said. “He was young. He didn’t have time to get into too much trouble, did he?”
“What was he supposed to deliver today?” Heather asked.
Bill Weir looked it up on his computer. “He was delivering a box from Sunglass Lass Co. to Sun and Fun Novelties.”
“Was it worth much?” Heather asked. “It hasn’t been recovered it.”
“It wasn’t insured,” Bill Weir said. “So, they couldn’t have been too expensive.”
“Do you know anyone who wanted to hurt John Smith?” Heather asked.
“Or any of his alter egos?” Amy added.
“No,” Bill Weir said. “We only worked some weekends, and we didn’t know much about him. He seemed nice though.”
“Do you have any other information that might help us find out who killed him?” asked Heather.
“Well, I think he lived near Gardenia Grove,” he said. “The one day he was late was because the utility company was blocking his way off of the street.”
"Get your business in order and no more paying under the table," Heather told Bill Weir. "Though hopefully, it will never relate to a murder case again."
“I will,” he said.
The investigators left.
“Let’s see if we can find out where he lived and maybe we can find out his real name,” Heather said.
“I’m sort of hoping it actually is Fitzwilliam,” Amy said.
Who’s House?
The next morning, Heather and Amy approached the area called Gardenia Grove. It was a series of colorful buildings in an apartment complex.
"How are we going to figure out which place is our John Doe's? Or John Smith's?" Amy asked. "There are so many possible apartments. And Bill Weir wasn't completely sure that he did live here."
“Ryan and Peters have been combing through databases trying to identify the victim without any luck. So far, this is our best lead for finding out who he was,” Heather said.
“So, what do you want to do? Knock on every door and see if they knew a guy with a blue hat?” Amy asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“Actually, asking about the blue hat isn’t the worst idea,” Heather said. “However, I was thinking we could look around and see if there were any signs of someone not coming home when they expected to. Because John Doe didn’t make it home last night. We can see if there are any newspapers that weren’t picked up this morning, or trash cans that look out of place, or lights left on.”
“How about we look for somebody banging on a door like a crazy person?” Amy suggested.
“Maybe,” Heather said. “Why did you come up with that suggestion?”
“Because I already found it,” Amy said, pointing to an apartment on the second floor.
They saw the young woman on the open-air walkway where she was pounding on one of the apartment doors. Some other neighbors were popping their heads out of their own doors and windows to give her dirty looks about the scene she was making.
Heather nodded. “Let’s check it out. Maybe it’s a clue. And if not, maybe we can stop her from waking up the entire neighborhood.”
The headed up the stairs to the landing.
Despite the neighbors’ protests, the young woman was still banging on the door.
“Johnny! Johnny!” she yelled. “Are you in there? Why are you ignoring me? Let me in! Are you mad at me? What did I do? Even if you are mad, let me know you’re okay. I’m worried now.”
<
br /> “Miss, can we talk to you a minute?” Heather asked.
“I’m not leaving yet,” she said, defiantly. “I want to make sure my boyfriend is okay. I haven’t been able to get in contact with him for almost two days. Something might be wrong. He might be dead on the floor in there for all I know!”
“Not on that floor,” Amy muttered to herself.
“We’re not trying to force you to leave," Heather said. "But we are private investigators, and we're trying to get more information on the person in this apartment."
“Is Johnny in trouble?”
“What’s your name?” Heather asked.
“Jessie Sayer. Johnny is my boyfriend. Did something happen?”
“Could you describe Johnny to us?” asked Heather.
“He’s dreamy looking,” Jessie said with a smile. “He’s tall and handsome. He has brown hair that’s a little shaggy. He normally hides it with a baseball cap though.”
“A blue baseball cap?” Heather asked.
“Yes,” Jessie said, looking nervous.
“What sort of trouble did he get himself into? I knew something was wrong? What are you investigating?”
“I’m very sorry to have to tell you this,” Heather said. “A man matching that description was found killed yesterday morning. We’ve been trying to trace his identity.”
“And now you think it’s Johnny?” Jessie wailed. She held one hand in the other and her eyes teared up. Then, she threw herself onto Amy, hugging her closely.
Amy patted her back awkwardly.
“At least she has good breath,” Amy said, as Jessie continued to cry on her shoulder.
“Miss Sayer, at this point, we’re not completely sure that it was your boyfriend was killed,” Heather said. “We still need someone to identify the body.”
Jessie took a deep breath to stop crying and bravely said, “I’ll do it.”
"It might be very upsetting," Heather said. "You don't have to do it. I just meant--"
“No,” Jessie said. “I want to. I want to be sure it’s him.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Saturday night. I visited him here. When I didn’t hear from him all Saturday or this morning, I knew something was wrong. Poor Johnny.”
“We’d like to know more about him,” Heather said.
“Like what?” asked Jessie.
“His real name,” Amy blurted out.
Jessie looked confused until Heather tactfully said, “We believe he gave a false name to his employer.”
“And to everybody else,” Amy added.
“I knew he was up to something,” Jessie said. “He started to have money recently. And I only knew that he was working as a delivery boy on weekends. And I guess he picked up a few random delivery shifts during the week. But I didn’t see how he could be making that much money from a job like that.”
“And he had a lot of money?” Heather asked.
"He bought me these earrings," Jessie said, showing off the gemstones. "And I think they cost a lot. They're nice quality. Real stones."
Amy cleared her throat. “And his name?”
“Johnny Javits.”
“Wow,” Amy said to Heather. “Our John Doe slash John Smith really was named John.”
“I’m glad we found out the name,” Heather said. “Now we just need to find out why he was using other names. And who killed him.”
Identifying the Body
“That was very brave what you did,” Ryan assured Jessie.
“Part of me still felt like it wouldn’t be him,” Jessie said. “Even after what the investigators told me about the dead guy. Part of me thought it wouldn’t be him. Like this was all a big mistake.”
She held one hand in the other as her eyes began to water. Heather handed her a tissue.
"Why don't we all have a seat?" Ryan said, leading them to an area to talk that was a little intimidating than the interrogation room.
Amy was staying further back in the group so that she wouldn't be cried on again. She took out her tablet to take notes on the answers to their questions. Detective Peters handed Jessie a cup of water and then took out his own notebook to record in it.
“Thank you,” Heather said. “Now we know for certain who he is. And now we’ll do everything in our power to catch the person who killed him.”
“Thank you,” Jessie said. “And thank you for being so nice to me during this whole ordeal.”
“We do have to ask you a few questions now though,” Ryan said. “It could help us in our investigation.”
“Of course,” Jessie said. “What do you want to know?”
"Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Johnny Javits?" Heather asked.
“No,” Jessie said. “That’s what’s so strange. Johnny kept mostly to himself. Even when we were in high school, he didn’t have many friends. And the ones he did went off to college on the mainland. But even though he didn’t have many friends, he didn’t have any enemies either.”
“Do you know why he would use fake names when making his deliveries?” asked Heather.
“No,” Jessie said. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” Ryan prompted gently.
“Unless it had something to do with where he was getting that extra money,” Jessie said. “I wish I knew more about it. But whenever I asked, he blew me off. He told me not to worry about it. But I should have worried about it. I should have worried about it a lot. Because I think that’s what got him killed.”
“You have no idea how he made the money?” Peters asked.
“He didn’t have a real job. I know that. He didn’t do a nine to five thing or get schedules in advance,” Jessie said. “I know he worked as a delivery boy on weekends and some odd jobs during the week. But that doesn’t explain the money. Do you think it’s dirty money?”
“It’s too early to say,” Ryan told her.
Jessie took her earrings off but then held them. "Part of me wants to get rid of them if the money came from a bad place and if it led to Johnny getting killed. But part of me wants to keep them because they were his last gift for me."
“We’ll see if we can track down where the money came from,” Heather said. “There’s a good chance that it will also lead us to the killer.”
After the finished talking with Jessie Sayer, the investigators returned to Johnny Javits's apartment. The landlord unlocked the door, and they began searching for clues.
“It wasn’t ransacked, right?” Amy asked.
“I think it’s just a messy young man’s apartment,” Heather said, noting the piles of clothes on the floor.
Detective Peters blushed. “My place might look a bit like this too.”
“I’m just glad we’re wearing gloves,” Amy said.
The began poking around the place, trying to find something that would tell them why the young man had been murdered.
"Of course," Amy said as she opened a bureau's drawer. "The clothes are all on the floor, and the drawers are empty."
“Wait a minute,” Heather said, checking out the drawer as well. “I think there’s something else here.”
The drawer looked to be lined with a velvet felt, but it looked loose to Heather. She lifted up a corner and saw what was below. There were envelopes with initials on them.
“Three guesses what’s inside,” Heather said.
“I only need one,” Amy said. “It’s the money Jessie was talking about. So, I’ll choose nonsensical things for my other guesses and choose The Declaration of Independence and an ice cream cone.”
Ryan carefully lifted an envelope, touching it as little as possible so it could still be dusted for prints. He looked inside.
“You were right with your first guess,” he told Amy.
"Good," she said. "I don't know what I'd do if the Declaration of Independence were actually there."
“There must be a thousand dollars in this envelope,” said Ryan.
“Someone might find that worth kill
ing for,” Heather said. “And we don’t know what he was carrying at the time. He might have been robbed.”
"But what does this money mean?" Amy asked. "Who is it from? Who is it for?"
“There are letters on the envelopes,” Ryan said. “CC, ND, CH.”
"They sound like initials," Heather said. "But to Amy's point - is the money going to the people who have those initials, or is it from them?"
"CC seems to have the most money," Ryan said.
“If it’s going to them it’s a shame there’s no AG,” Amy joked.
"Johnny Javits probably got robbed and killed for this money,” Heather said.
“Fine,” Amy agreed. “I don’t want any of it. Not really.”
“I found something,” Peters said, joining them. “It’s the victim’s wallet.”
“His wallet?” Heather asked.
Peters showed them, and it did look like Johnny Javits's main wallet. It had his driver's license, credit cards, and other forms of ID.
“So, his wallet wasn’t stolen,” Heather said. “He didn’t bring it out of his apartment.”
Amy looked at what was in his wallet. “This sure would have been helpful to have earlier.”
“Where did you find it?” Heather asked.
“It was on the kitchen counter,” Ryan said, indicating to the spot.
“That’s not exactly hidden,” Heather said. “I don’t think he couldn’t find it before he left. I think he intentionally left it behind before he went out that day.”
“But why?” asked Amy.
“I don’t know,” said Heather. “It’s something we need to find out.”
Drama
“Alas, poor donut,” Digby began. “I knew him, Horatio. A fellow of infinite taste.”
Even though Digby’s performances were over-the-top, Heather was enjoying them. She accepted the Toasted Almond Donut that he presented to her in the same way that Hamlet traditionally held the skull during a performance. Amy accepted one as well.
Toasted Almond & Murder: An Oceanside Cozy Mystery - Book 17 Page 3
