Elizabeth pointed a fork at Calderone. "Next time you buy."
Mahan laughed. "That'll teach you."
Officer Taylor ate quietly, as usual. After all the school shootings around the country, she'd assigned him to be a school resource officer. He wasn't stationed at any of the three schools, but he spent much time at one or the other, mostly working on preparedness and getting to know the teachers and some of the kids. He largely kept in touch through Sergeant Hammer and came into the station at the beginning and end of his shifts.
School was out and Taylor had taken a few days off. He'd volunteered to come in, so Elizabeth had him attend the meeting to add what he could and maybe do some interviews later. Tall and red-haired, he couldn't be assigned to anything that required blending in.
They ate quietly for a couple of minutes before Elizabeth said, "I wanted to compare what we've done so far so we're all on the same page. We need to be anyway, but I've already had calls from a TV station in Springfield and papers in other parts of the county. We're lucky it's been icy, or our media friends would have already stopped by."
Hammer put a short list on the table. "This is who we interviewed so far. Tony has some ideas on who else to talk to."
Hammer's list included Nick and Marti, Dingle, Mayor Humphrey, Jerry Pew, Squeaky, Doris, and several other local business owners. None of the latter had been open when Marti found Louella Bella.
“And I checked with Doris, like you asked,” Calderone said, “Louella Belle didn’t stop by there for a free sugar cookie.”
"I talked to people at PTA, made a few notes," Hammer said. "But these were conversations last night, they weren't full interviews. We'll have to talk to the middle school Assistant Principal, Avery Maxwell."
Elizabeth nodded to Taylor. "You have a good relationship with her?"
He nodded. "When I stopped by her office a few days ago, she told me about the flyer Louella Belle made with her kids' pictures."
"Angry, I take it?" Elizabeth asked.
"As a bee in a hot car. Said she and her husband were going to talk to a lawyer."
"Do you see her being angry enough to shove Louella Belle into the laundry tub and stuff her in the dryer?"
"No, mostly because I don't see her even finding Louella Belle to talk to her about it. Mrs. Maxwell might argue on a debate team, but she's kind of…snobby. She'd leave it to the lawyer."
"Okay, but when you talk to her, find out where she was late yesterday afternoon."
He nodded. "And her husband."
"Good point." Elizabeth pointed to Hammer's list of people interviewed. "Most of those on this list would have been pretty short conversations, at least any I did were. Except Marti."
Mahan nodded. "Like Doris Minx. She said she didn't know anything except Louella Belle left the diner mad. She did say when Louella Belle stormed out there was a young couple with a couple kids at one of the booths. Don't know names."
"Marti or Nick might," Calderone said. "I figure we need to talk a few other regular laundromat customers. Squeaky didn't know a lot of names, but he mentioned a couple folks from the senior center and the college guys they call Herbie Hiccup and Just Juice Jenson. Maybe Finn Clancy again about his bike."
"Hammer told me yesterday that no one in the school system knew whether Louella Belle had any relatives." Elizabeth said.
"That really sucks," Mahan said. "Plus, Skelly's concerned he'll be ready to release the body, and no one's said they'll claim it."
"Damn," Elizabeth said. "Did she have an attorney?"
Calderone flipped pages in his notebook. "She had a will done with the same lawyer Ben had his with, John Stone. He won't release it until he files it at the courthouse, but he said no individual benefitted from her death."
"What the heck does that mean?" Elizabeth asked.
"He wouldn't say which ones, but she left her money to organizations."
Elizabeth looked at Calderone. "Why Finn Clancy again?"
"Because he's a creep."
Hammer nodded. "Times two."
"Good as any criteria, I guess." Elizabeth said, dryly. “I don’t know him well. Is he a native?”
Hammer said, “I know he graduated from high school here. Parents were sort of well off, but left most of what they had to a sister, or something like that. Guess they knew he’d blow it.”
"You have more on his bike?" Elizabeth asked.
Mahan snorted. "Probably in a ditch somewhere. Not like anyone would steal it to use as a Christmas gift."
"Keep looking," Elizabeth said. “He told me he’d left the bike at Doris’ place, then went to Dollar General, then Weed n’ Feed. Follow up. Who checked the gas station by the highway?"
"I did," Calderone said. "No one looked hinky, nobody seemed to have wet gloves or jackets."
"Too bad," Elizabeth said. "When do we get any fingerprint results?"
"Tony gets an A for extra work," Mahan said.
Calderone shifted in his chair. "With Mahan's help, I lifted what I think are forty-two possible usable latent fingerprints. From the dryers, change machine, washing machines, and the laundry tub. No idea how many people that represents."
"Not that I question what you found," Elizabeth said, "but I thought there would be more."
"Yeah, lots of smeared prints, not even what you'd call partials," Calderone said. "We need enough of a print, preferably a couple fingers, to submit to the Automated Fingerprint ID system. I sent what we got to the state police yesterday. Will take at least a few days, especially because of the holiday."
Elizabeth frowned. "AFIS takes that long for a murder investigation?"
"It's because we have so many, and we didn't target any as probable suspects. If we had one set, or two, I could push them harder. Takes time to do the comparisons."
Elizabeth waved a hand. "Okay, I get it." But she mostly didn't. Maybe an elderly woman in a laundromat wasn't enough of a high-profile case for expediting the response. It should be.
"The thing is," Calderone said, "there's something like three million records in the Illinois database, more in the national one, of course. A lot of people who go into that laundromat would never have had their prints submitted for anything. Bet we don't get five hits."
AFTER LUNCH TUESDAY, ELIZABETH stopped by the senior apartments to meet with Grace Whittle and Stanley Buttons, two people Squeaky had named. She had called ahead, so when she entered they sat together on the vinyl sofa in the apartment’s huge foyer. Elizabeth immediately thought of the poem, “Jack Spratt could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean. And so between them both, you see, they licked the platter clean.”
Canes rested near both of them, though Stanley Buttons certainly looked able-bodied. The round-faced Grace Whittle could have been a before picture for a weight loss commercial.
"You know about Louella Belle's murder, so you've probably figured out why I want to talk to you."
Grace shook her head slightly. "She wasn't in the laundromat when we were yesterday."
"When did you get there?" Elizabeth asked.
Stanley closed his eyes, concentrating. “Grace and I got there about two-fifteen.”
Her eyes brightened. “We usually ride back together, but my daughter picked me up. I left first, about four. Just getting dark. That leaves Stanley without an alibi.”
Elizabeth smiled briefly. “I don’t think he’s quite strong enough to have hurt Louella Belle.”
Grace frowned. “Of course. Sorry to be flippant.”
“What time did you leave, Mr. Buttons?”
“I’d say about four-fifteen. You know what time she got killed?”
“Looks like late afternoon or early evening,” Elizabeth said, “but Dr. Hutton hasn’t completed the full autopsy.”
Stanley cleared his throat. "I told my son, up in Peoria. He wants to know how much I missed the killer by. You know, an hour? More? Less?"
“Toxicology reports can take more than a month,” Grace said.
“Exc
ept on CSI,” Stanley added.
Elizabeth smiled. “Isn’t there a laundry room in this building? Seems a seven-story apartment would have at least one.”
“In the basement,” Stanley said.
Grace nodded. “But it’s so much more pleasant at Squeaky’s new place. And it’s not so much walking.”
“What do you mean?”
Stanley leaned forward. “Here, we take the elevator to the basement, then walk to the far side of the building. That’s a long way to haul clothes. If we go to Squeaky’s place, I pull up to the door of this building, Grace and I put the laundry in my back seat, and when we get to the laundromat we can use a cart to wheel the stuff around.”
“Good to know. How about other times you were there. Did anyone you saw make you concerned for your safety?”
Grace shook her head. "Not me. You go sometimes when I don't, Stanley."
"Yes. I don't know everyone I see there. Not that the place is ever truly crowded. Usually one or two other people."
"People you know?" Elizabeth asked.
Stanley slowly shook his head. "I see some of the same people. Couple of students. Oh, Gene sometimes puts in laundry and comes in to check."
"I folded it for him once," Grace said.
Elizabeth nodded at her, then studied Stanley. He had again briefly shut his eyes as if concentrating, but didn't add anything else.
Elizabeth pulled out two of her cards. “If you think of anything else relevant, call the station, please.”
As she left, Elizabeth heard Grace say, “This is exciting.” She didn’t seem to focus on the fact that a woman had died a violent death.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELIZABETH HAD JUST STARTED her car when her phone buzzed. She glanced at caller ID. “Nuts.” She pushed answer. “Officer Kermit. How go things in college security?” Elizabeth could envision the bobbing head of college security officer Walter, a.k.a. Wally, Kermit.
“Almost all the students went home for Christmas yesterday. We do more patrols, keep out lawbreakers. But it’s quiet. Heard you had a murder.”
“Yes, very sad. Did you know Louella Belle Simpson? She used to teach at the high school.”
“Had her for consumer sciences about fifteen years ago. She made all us boys learn about nutrition and cooking. Used to be just the girls had to do that. Sorry to hear about her.”
Elizabeth realized it was the closest to sorrow she had heard expressed. People said Louella Belle’s death was a surprise or a shame. No one else had said they were sorry. "Did you keep in touch with her much?"
"Nope. You know how she was. Not a bad lady, but talked your ear off."
“Can I help you with anything, Wally?” Elizabeth dug an earbud from her pocket so she could drive.
“Seeins’ how it’s quiet at Sweat…I mean here at Southern Illinois Agricultural College, I wondered if you might need some help.”
Elizabeth wasn’t likely to ask a man who ate powdered donuts at a prior crime scene for help. “We can always use more listening posts. Were you downtown yesterday, or have you heard anyone talking about Louella Belle lately?”
“Most people want to forget her.”
Elizabeth laughed, the first time in more than a day. “I didn’t know her well, but I’ve heard that. When’s the last time you saw her?”
“Grocery store last week. She said I didn’t have enough fresh vegetables in my cart, then she told this lady she shouldn’t be buying sugar cereal for her kids. Made the kid cry, a little boy.”
“Jeez.”
“Yeah, manager came right over. Told her to remember what he said. Don’t know what he meant, but I figured it meant not to bother other customers.”
“Huh.” Elizabeth figured she should talk to the grocery store manager. “You ever go in the laundromat?”
“Nah. Once I got the teaching job, too, I bought a little house. Real nice, edge of town, near the Logland water tower.”
Elizabeth had forgotten that Wally also taught chemistry part-time. “Great. Listen, Wally…”
“So, I got a couple days off around Christmas. I could, you know, ask around for you.”
She spoke firmly. “No, thanks. But I’m always open...You know, there might be one thing.”
“At your service, Chief Friedman!”
“Near the laundromat I saw a rusty men’s bike. Turns out it had been reported stolen. When we checked back, it was gone.”
“So, you think the perp owned it?” Wally asked.
“Probably didn't belong to the murderer. Someone else reported it stolen, but the killer could have used it. Can you keep your eyes open on campus? If you see an older bike in an unexpected place, I’d like to hear about it.”
Excitement dripped from Wally’s words. “I’ll call you personally, Chief. I still have your cell number.”
Elizabeth wished he didn’t. “That’s fine, but if you don’t get me, don’t wait. Call the station.”
“I’m on it!”
“If you find the bike, please don’t touch it. Just call.”
“Ten-four.” Wally hung up.
Elizabeth already regretted the request.
BACK AT THE STATION THAT Tuesday afternoon, Elizabeth went over her list to decide who to talk to next. She did not appreciate the prospect of calling Assistant Principal Avery Maxwell. The topic would be tough – Louella Belle had used a photo of her young children in her misguided approach to address childhood obesity.
In the lunch meeting, Taylor said the assistant principal had planned to contact a lawyer about Louella Belle's flyer, and earlier Hammer said he thought she had. Elizabeth had no desire to be quizzed about whether Louella Belle's estate could be sued.
She'd let Taylor try Maxwell first, and then decide if she had to follow up.
Elizabeth usually remembered names, but when Sweathog students were called Just Juice Jenson and Herbie Hiccup, she remembered their nicknames better. She asked Hammer to find out if they were still in town.
He reported that they were but hadn’t seemed anxious to come to the station. He told them the choice was come to the station or have an officer visit their apartment. They agreed to come down to the station within the hour.
As Hammer ushered them into chairs opposite her desk, Elizabeth thought the two men appeared nervous. Or maybe they usually didn’t meet an interviewer’s eyes and often wiped sweaty palms on their jeans.
“Thanks for coming in guys. Glad you haven't left for home yet.”
“No problem, Chief,” Just Juice said. "We're stayin' here for Christmas."
“Yeah, not sure we know much we can help you, but we’ll try,” Herbie said. "Going home for New Year's Eve."
Most young people would have done the opposite, but Elizabeth didn't pursue that point. Instead, she let her gaze travel between them. “The diner is across from the laundromat. Squeaky mentioned he thought that you were doing laundry not long before Marti found Louella Belle.”
They nodded in tandem. “Doin’ laundry,” Herbie said.
“Anyone else in there when you were?” she asked.
Just Juice adopted a pose of concentration. “An old guy left as we came in. Maybe four-fifteen or so."
Elizabeth nodded. "I think I know who that was."
"Only other person was the guy who works in Dollar General." Herbie nodded. "You know, used to be the fraternity president at the college, but he got kicked out.”
Elizabeth knew Blake Wessley better than she would have liked. Good looking and arrogant, having to work at DG, as the locals called the store, would have been quite a few pegs below where he thought he should be on life’s pecking order.
“Doing his laundry, too?” she asked.
Just Juice sat forward in his chair. “He separates it like my mom does. You know, by colors.”
Elizabeth kept her face expressionless. “Some people do that. Did you guys talk to him?”
“Not really,” Herbie said. “We were gettin’ ready to leave, so it was maybe 5:00
. Dark already.”
“We're coming up on the shortest day of the year,” Elizabeth said. “Listen, besides this horrible thing with Louella Belle, do you know of any other funny business going on in the laundromat?”
They looked at each other and back at her. “Like what?” Herbie asked.
She smiled. “I’m asking you. Did you ever see anything odd?”
Just Juice shrugged. “When his clothes are in the washer, Finn Clancy sleeps in a corner, in his underwear.”
Elizabeth sat up straighter. “He what?”
“But under a blanket,” Herbie added. “You know, one of those gray ones they give out at the Mission.”
“Does he bother anyone?”
Just Juice grinned. “He snores pretty loud.”
Elizabeth had been thinking more on the order of women being frightened by seeing a man in his underwear. Might not be illegal, but she’d have to talk to Squeaky about it. He could tell Clancy the laundromat dress code included at least pants and a t-shirt.
“Um,” Herbie said. “He maybe mostly does it when it’s only men.”
“How would he know when that would be?” Elizabeth asked.
“So, it closes at ten,” Just Juice said, “but women don’t go there much after dark. It’s, well, you know, dark.”
“Any particular reason to avoid the place?” she asked.
“Kinda lonely downtown then. Nothin’ open. But,” he shrugged, “not like Clancy would bother anyone.”
Unless Louella Belle bugged him, too. She looked from one man to the other. "Why did you say you two aren't going home for the holidays?"
Herbie leaned back more in his chair. "My folks are visiting my mom's family in Arizona."
"I might go home for New Year's," Just Juice said. "I got a lot of studying to do. I'm kinda on probation. With my parents, not the school."
Elizabeth smiled. "Marti and Nick have a good lunch on Christmas Eve."
Both nodded. "Turkey with all the trimmings," Herbie said.
After the two men left, Elizabeth made notes on the conversation and reread them. Knowing they had been in the laundromat at five P.M. helped with a timeline. But they had been nervous about something.
Final Cycle Page 4
