by Anne Hagan
“And the father?”
“He’s a tougher nut to crack. We brought him in and grilled him for hours. He refused a lawyer but it didn’t matter. He didn’t budge. Denied even being at the scene. We couldn’t hold him.”
“So no video in the complex?”
Shane shook his head no. “Not that was working that day, no.”
“No other witnesses besides junior to place senior at the scene,” Janet ticked of a finger. “It’s one man’s word against another’s and that one isn’t budging?” She ticked off a second finger.
“You got it,” Shane nodded. “Short of a full confession from Nevil Harper Sr., we have literally nothing to go on.”
“Have you thought about shaking the tree again now that the DNA is back?”
“On what grounds? We have nothing.”
Janet leaned into the desk, hand to her chin and seemed to be thinking hard.
Shane interrupted, “Oscar Steirs though about pursuing a civil case for wrongful death against Nevil Sr. in an attempt to force both men to the stand to testify. His lawyer advised him that without any evidence other than a witness with a grudge, Nevil Jr., he probably couldn’t even get the case in front of a civil jury. He says he wasn’t in it for money anyway. He wanted the murderer behind bars, not making him payments.”
“If he has the money to pursue that anyway, it’s probably the only way we’re going to get this solved,” Janet said as she slid the file back across their desks to Shane. “You don’t know until you try. He might feel compelled to defend himself. He’d at least have to appear or face charges for failure to do that.”
.
Chapter 3 – Robbed!
Mel
Tuesday Morning, December 9th, 2014
“Sheriff, Dispatch has a sensitive on line two; Shane’s in court this morning.”
“I’ll take it Holly. Where’s Mason?”
“In the squad room, I believe. She didn’t go with Shane.”
“Good, have her come up.”
“Will do.”
I punched the line button on my phone, “Sheriff Crane; how can I help you?”
“Sheriff, this is Alexander Lepley out here in Falls Township.”
Alex Lepley is about 70 years old and as sweet and as charming as they come from the moneyed set. “Yes, Mr. Lepley; is there something wrong?”
“Well first of all, there’s no need for you to call me ‘Mr. Lepley’. Why, I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”
All the more reason for me to call you that... “My apologies.”
“Second, I believe we were robbed.”
I was taken aback. “Come again, sir?”
“We were out of state for a couple of weeks. We had Thanksgiving with our son and his family and then we spent a week in Arizona. We got in late last night and we went straight to bed. When we got up this morning, I noticed a few guns from my collection were missing.”
Tilda McGhee, the Lepley’s long time housekeeper, let us in and led us to the sitting room. There, both Alex and Laurie Lepley were sitting. Laurie was sipping from a fine china tea cup and looking more than a little anxious.
Without preamble, she started right in, “We just can’t have this. We just can’t have people traipsing in here and taking our things like they own them. It’s unnerving I tell you; for me and for poor Tilda. I can’t stay here if this is how it’s going to be...We should have never left the countryside...I’ve always said that.”
Alex Lepley caught his wife’s eye and raised a hand to stop her spew of nervous chatter. “Let’s let the Sheriff here figure this all out, shall we?”
He waved his hand indicating two side chairs, “Ladies, please be seated.” Turning to look at McGhee, who remained just inside the doorway, he told her, “Please bring some tea for them and for yourself and then join us.”
“Oh, no thank you; I’m fine,” I told her. When Janet politely declined as well, the seventy plus year old woman primly seated herself at the opposite end of the sofa where Laurie was also seated.
Janet flipped open her notebook as I addressed the three of them. “Mr. Lepley...Alex...why don’t you fill us in?”
“There’s not a whole lot to tell, from our end, frankly.” He rubbed his chin, quiet for a moment while he framed his thoughts. “We left the Monday before Thanksgiving, er...in the morning on the...” He looked toward his wife.
“The 24th,” she supplied.
“Yes,” he continued, “and we flew out to Texas to spend the holiday with Alex Junior and his family. We left there last Sunday evening and we spent a week in Arizona. We got in late last night, as I told you on the phone.”
“What did you do last night?” I asked him.
“Why nothing. It was quite late...after 11:00; well past bedtime for folks our age, you know.” He cracked a half smile at that.
“We even left the bags down here in the hallway,” Laurie added. “There was nothing that couldn’t wait till morning in them.”
He nodded. “When I woke this morning, I went straight to the kitchen. I like a little coffee...just a cup in the morning, you see, while I take the paper. Once I set that to brewing, I went outside and retrieved the paper and then I got my coffee and took my cup and the paper to my den. That’s when I noticed that guns were missing from my display cabinet.”
“What exactly is missing?”
“There are three pieces I’ve identified as not in their usual places so far: a Winchester rifle my grandfather gave to me when I was a boy, an early Colt pistol I bought at auction in the 1970’s and an antique Derringer that was given to me that I had in a special box that was built just for it.”
All collectible and all worth a small fortune, I’m sure... “And nothing else?”
“Not so far Melissa,” he said. “The safe isn’t touched. We looked around the house but Laurie’s jewelry...what we don’t keep in the safe...all of it seems to be accounted for.”
“We’ll need to see the den and the places where you kept the guns.”
“I can show you now, if you like.” He started to rise from his chair.
“Just a few more questions first, okay?” When he nodded, I continued, “Let’s back up just a little bit.” Both Lepley’s were focused on me.
“You were gone for two weeks, correct?” Both of them and Tilda also nodded in affirmation. “Was anyone staying in the house during that time?”
“No,” Laurie answered.
I looked at Tilda, “I assume you no longer ‘live in’ then?”
Janet raised a questioning eyebrow at me but remained quiet, listening and watching.
“No Sheriff; not in years, but certainly not since they gave up trying to keep up with the farm and built this house,” she told me.
The ‘house’ she was referring to was a mini-mansion in its own right but I said nothing, allowing her to continue.
“I come in three days a week now, Monday’s, Tuesday’s and Thursday’s, depending on what the Missus needs.”
“So,” Mason asked, “I take it you haven’t been in the past two weeks then, until today?”
“On the contrary,” Alex put in, “We’ve had Tilda come while we were gone, just as always.”
The housekeeper nodded.
“So you were here on the 24th, when the Lepleys’ left?” I asked her.
“Yes...but later in the day. My great granddaughter had a program at school that morning. I went to that and then I came here.”
“Did you notice the guns missing at that time, or at all?”
Tilda’s voice shook a little as she answered, “I don’t go in there every day I’m here. While they were gone, I was really just looking in on the place and trying to stay ahead of the dust before their return.”
“So,” Mason questioned, “I take it, you were never in the den?”
The housekeeper looked back and forth between the Lepley’s.
“Tilda,” Laurie implored, “if you know something, please tell them. You’re
certainly not in any trouble with us.” Her trust and affection for the housekeeper was obvious in her tone.
“I didn’t actually go in there until yesterday. Since I knew they’d be home, last night, and the room was clean when they left, I just wanted to make sure nothing needed dusted before their return.”
“Did you notice anything amiss?” I probed gently.
She nodded, “The rifle wasn’t where it usually is in the case. There was an empty spot there. I...I...,”she stalled.
“Go on.”
She looked at Alex, “I assumed he must have taken it with him or shipped it ahead...for his son. I honestly didn’t give it much thought...I’m so sorry...” Her lower lip trembled.
“Now there, it’s not your fault,” Alex tried to comfort her. “You didn’t know.”
Mason asked, “Do you keep the cabinet locked?”
“Yes, of course,” came the swift reply. “And, to answer your next question, it’s still locked and it doesn’t appear to have been tampered with.”
“Where do you keep the key?” I asked him.
“There’s a set of keys in the safe. I had the only other key with me.”
“One last thing before we take a look at the den; is there an alarm system here?”
“Yes Laurie replied. It should have been armed the entire time we were away, except when Tilda was here.”
Tilda confirmed that with a nod and said, “I have the code, right here.” She tapped her forehead. “I never leave without resetting it.”
“We know you don’t dear,” Laurie told her.
“No reports of it being tripped, while you were away?” I asked.
“No one called from the service, if that’s what you’re asking,” Alex said.
“Let’s go take a look at the den,” I said to Janet Mason. “While we’re doing that, if one of you would be so kind as to call the alarm company and find out if there were any false alarms or any other...anomalies...we should be concerned about.” I was concerned that Tilda had left the alarm unset at least once but I was trying to dig for that information politely.
###
“That place was just like the one in your open murder case,” Janet said, as we were driving back to the station.
“The Stiers case? How so?”
“Spotless. Not a fingerprint anywhere.”
“Mmm, true that. The perp must have worn gloves...or Tilda cleaned the prints away.” I looked over at her and then focused back on the road while I asked, “What’s your take on the report from the alarm company?” I glanced at her quickly again.
“Well, all of the times they said it was disarmed and then rearmed later we can account for as the comings and goings of the housekeeper except for the one; that nine minutes in the middle of the night the Friday after Thanksgiving between disarming and rearming that no one can explain. That has to be when the burglary happened.”
Chapter 4 – ‘Napped!
Mel
Wednesday morning, December 10th, 2014
“You’ve got to be kidding me...”
“Sorry Sheriff, I wish I was. The case is dragging out. They wanted him back in court today for cross. I can send patrol out to take reports, if you want?” Holly asked me.
“No; don’t do that. Mason and I will handle these calls...nothing like baptism by fire. Have her meet me by my SUV.”
###
“We have not one, but two reports of missing, high end dogs to follow up on,” I told my new detective.
“Dogs? We handle that?”
“When it’s suspected theft, yes.”
Janet eyed me but pursed her lips and didn’t say anything.
“We need to take these reports and let the dog warden – his name’s Chet Hearn – know what’s going on in case he finds the animals or gets tipped off about anything but we’re not going to devote a lot of time to this. There’s just too much on our plates right now, as it is.”
“So,” she asked, “Who’s up first?”
“It’s actually a guy I graduated high school with, Harley Holgate. According to the call in, his black lab Ranger has been taken.”
“A lab? Since when is a lab a high end dog?”
“Ranger is a duck dog...one of the best around. Harley and Ranger as a team are pretty formidable hunters. There’s a lot of other hunters that would love to get their hands on a well-trained duck dog. They’d either use him themselves or he’d go for top dollar on the black market.”
“I let him out to do his thing yesterday morning, ya know,” Harley was telling us, “and, while he was doing that, I went to the woodshed to grab another armload for the house. He didn’t follow me back in but, I didn’t think nothin’ of it. He gets to roamin’, chasing rabbits...what have you. He always comes back when he finally gets cold or hungry.”
“How long before you started looking for him?” I questioned.
“An hour and a half...two hours, tops. That’s not like him, not to come back by then, I mean.” He shrugged, “At first I was mad, but as the day went on and on and I couldn’t find him anywhere, I got worried he might be hurt somewhere.”
“And now?” Mason asked.
“Somebody’s got him. He’d of turned up by now and I’ve looked everywhere I can look.”
I checked the address for the second call. “We got another one up here in North Zanesville, Denise and Denton Goldsmith.”
“Do you know them?”
“Nope, not these two. Holly said their Vizsla is missing.”
“What the hell kind of dog is that?”
“Beats me...I never heard of it.”
“A Visla,” Denise Goldsmith informed us haughtily, “is a Hungarian Pointer – a hunting dog. More importantly, Chase is my children’s pet. He’s worth several thousand dollars and I want him back A.S.A.P.”
I winced inwardly at her tone but I kept my cool. “When did you last see Chase Mrs. Goldsmith?”
“Personally, I don’t deal much with the dog. He’s quite fast and he gets away from me. Denton handles the finer details of running him in and out.”
That’s not what I asked... “When did Denton last see the dog?”
“He walked him yesterday morning before he left for work, he said. I left earlier...I dropped the children off at their schools and then I had Pilates.”
“And the dog was gone when you returned?”
“I don’t recall. I was in a rush. I had a luncheon scheduled, you see, so I changed and I left.”
“When did you...or anyone in the household...notice Chase was missing, ma’am?” Mason asked the overbearing woman.
Denise Denton looked Janet over and then turned her attention back to me. “I’m certainly glad you’re taking this seriously and you’ve come out yourself Sheriff. It wouldn’t do to send just anyone. Don’t you call a robbery of this magnitude grand theft or some such thing?”
Trying to be patient, I told her, “It’s a little different when it concerns a dog, ma’am but, yes, we do take it very seriously. We need to know when you realized Chase was gone?”
She sighed, “I never did...not, that is, until Denton said something. He was late from work, as usual, and took his dinner in the kitchen about 6:00.”
I didn’t consider that to be very late but I didn’t interrupt her now that she was finally supplying useful information.
“He normally runs with Chase before he eats but last night he said he was tired and that he’d take him out after. That’s when he asked where Chase was. He said he found it odd that he didn’t greet him at the door when he came in.”
“Anyway,” she finished, “He and the kids looked all over for him, they said, but they couldn’t find him in the house or anywhere around the neighborhood.”
“You didn’t help with the search?” I questioned her.
“Someone had to stay here...in case he came back, after all.”
Chapter 5 – Stop, Thief
Thursday, December 11th, 2014
Shane was finally do
ne giving testimony in a murder case we’d had on the books since early in the Summer but, with all of his open cases, I didn’t bother to pull him in when we got another burglary call in a high class north neighborhood. I just collected Mason and we picked back up where we left off on Tuesday.
I steered my county SUV past the gated guard house to a development off of Newark Road and I watched for the Marshburn household address dispatch had collected.
Janet looked around as we proceeded down the single lane past mansions set wide apart but with little but some rolling acreage between them. Trees and other vegetation were few and far between but the land wasn’t set up as horse pasture either.
Shaking her head, she said, “I really have been gone a while. I didn’t even know these homes existed. It’s like a whole separate world right here, but just steps away from reality.”
“Most of these are the homes of what the French would call the ‘nouveau riche’...local up and comers that aren’t from old money.”
Finding the correct home, I turned into the long drive.
“The Marshburn’s live here. He’s the President of one of the local banks, if I recall correctly and a bit older. They’re likely one of the exceptions to most of the younger, new money crowd that built along here.”
William Marshburn answered the door himself and ushered us inside.
“Mr. Marshburn,” I introduced myself like he didn’t know me, “I’m Sheriff Crane and this is Detective Mason.”
“I wish I could say I was pleased to meet you,” he said to Janet, “but,” he spread his hands, “under the circumstances...”
When he didn’t finish his thought, I responded, “Why don’t you take us right to the root of the problem?”
“Follow me then. There are two crime scenes as I’d suppose you call them: my study and my wife’s dressing area.” He led us into a first floor room that was obviously his study. It was a well-appointed space filled with floor to ceiling book shelves that were, in turn, filled with books. The floor in here, like the rest of the house I’d glimpsed so far, was hardwood too, but a dark green area rug in here made the space seem more cozy and less formal.
