Final Cycle

by Elaine L. Orr

  “Will do.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Skelly as he sat.

  He shrugged out of a dark blue ski jacket and picked up a menu propped between the napkin holder and tall canister of sugar. “In cahoots with the mayor about something?”

  “She told me Jerry Pew’s pretending he knows something about who killed Louella Belle. I may have to put out a contract out on him.”

  Skelly pointed to Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I see that cat of yours is shedding.”

  “Great.” She glanced to her right and reached up to pluck two short, light brown cat hairs from her shoulder.

  “Did you ever name that beast?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I mentally think of her as Tortoise because she’s a tortoise shell. Wish the woman who rented before me had taken her. Pretty mean to abandon her.”

  Skelly shrugged. “She knew your landlady had the place rented. Maybe better than the pound.”

  “Only by a hair.” She grinned. “She hates being alone so much.”

  Skelly glanced out the diner’s window at the sleet that had begun to turn the sidewalk to silver. “Better warm and dry than out in this.”

  “Wish it would fully convert to snow. At this rate we’ll be called out to fender benders all afternoon.”

  Nick walked up with an open order book. “What’ll it be, you two?”

  Sometimes it irritated Elizabeth when people treated her and Skelly like a couple. Today she decided Nick would have said the same thing if she’d been sitting with Hammer or Calderone. “I’ll have the Cobb salad, light on the ranch dressing, and a cup of tomato soup.”

  “Gimme a reuben, Nick. Heavy on the thousand island dressing. And you have any of Marti's famous apple cider pie?”

  "Yep." He grinned momentarily. "But I made it this time. Helping with the baking because of the Louella Belle stuff."

  "Is it safe to eat?" Skelly asked.

  "Well…" Nick dragged out the word. "There might be a couple lumps of flour in the crust. But otherwise it's okay."

  Elizabeth suppressed a smile as Skelly said, "I've eaten gravy with lumps of flour, so no problem in a piecrust."

  Nick left as Elizabeth said, “You amaze me with your food choices. Why doesn’t a doctor get the fresh chicken sandwich?”

  “Because the doctor gives himself permission to eat what he wants a few times a week.”

  Nick returned with Elizabeth’s decaf. “Sorry, forgot this.” He looked at Skelly. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Just water, thanks.” As Nick walked away again, Skelly said, “Wish they hadn’t stopped serving beer in the evenings. I liked grabbing one without sitting in the Weed ‘n Feed or a bar.”

  Elizabeth grinned. “You don't like the aroma over there?"

  Skelly shrugged. "Guess selling beer made it hard to get help here, since everyone would have to be over twenty-one.”

  A man’s voice came from two booths behind them, speech mildly slurred. “Was cheaper here than the Weed ‘n Feed, too.”

  Elizabeth turned. She didn’t know the men, who were dressed more roughly than college students. Most of the students had gone home already, anyway. “Makes for a good family environment.” She studied them for a few seconds before turning back to Skelly.

  “Know them?” he asked, speaking softly.

  “Nope. I think I’ve seen the heavier one with Finn Clancy at times.”

  “Without giving anything away, I’ve patched them both up, separately.”

  Elizabeth studied him. “Don’t remember police reports with either of their pictures.”

  “Private fight, so to speak.”

  “Between the two of them?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Don’t think so. They both work evening shift at the meatpacking plant.”

  Skelly said nothing else as Nick placed a Reuben in front of him and the salad in front of Elizabeth. “Anything else, guys?”

  “Got any more of that gingerbread Marti makes?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Can’t you smell it? She just took it out of the oven.” He nodded at Skelly. "I'll bring your pie when I bring the chief her gingerbread."

  “Bet the smell’ll be out here in a couple of minutes,” Elizabeth said.

  Before she could ask Skelly the names of the two men, they spoke slightly louder, discussing the tip as they stood up to leave.

  She put her fork in the salad. "When will you have the final autopsy report?"

  "I'll get the preliminary bloodwork back this afternoon. Usually they try to culture a couple oddball things, and that takes a few days. Won't show anything."

  The men nodded at Skelly as they walked by, and called for Nick as they got to the cash register.

  They ate in silence until Elizabeth said, "I can't think of anyone who might've killed Louella Belle. I wouldn't be surprised if some people wished her dead."

  "I didn't know her well. You think it could have been a robbery gone wrong?"

  She shrugged. "No one recalls her showing a wad of bills when she paid for anything recently, and she wasn't known to carry a lot of cash or wear expensive jewelry."

  Nick dropped off the desserts. "Thanks." Elizabeth turned her attention to the gingerbread as Skelly stabbed his apple cider pie with a fork.

  She lifted her aromatic sweet to her mouth and took the first bite. "Mmm. Still warm."

  Skelly put a huge forkful of pie in his mouth, then quickly grabbed his napkin and spit it out. "This tastes like…," he studied the barely chewed pie, "vinegar."

  Elizabeth's own fork was still poised for a second bite of gingerbread. She placed it on the table. "Vinegar? Like it's spoiled?"

  Skelly stuck a fork in the pie and held a piece toward her. "Don't eat it, just smell."

  She sniffed. "It does smell like vinegar. Spoiled cider mixed with the apples, maybe."

  Nick finished dealing with the two men who had just left the cash register, and he walked over. "Something wrong with the pie?"

  Elizabeth thought Marti must have heard the question as she came through the swinging door from the kitchen.

  "Well, Nick, maybe the cider was bad," Skelly said. "Did you buy it recently?"

  Marti stood a few feet from them. "I just bought it at the store a few days ago. Hy-Vee buys it from the people who sell it at the farmers' market "

  All eyes turned to Nick.

  "Um, well, I don't think I used that jug."

  Skelly's back had been to Marti, and he turned to face her. "You had an older batch of cider?"

  She shook her head. "Just the one."

  "See," Nick said, "this bottle was on the counter, near the refrigerator. It said apple cider."

  Skelly started to laugh. Elizabeth didn't get what was funny.

  Marti slapped her forehead. "Nick! That was apple cider vinegar!"

  Nick's shoulders slumped. "I wondered how you got the pie to taste so good." He mumbled his way back to the kitchen.

  When the laughter stopped and Elizabeth and Skelly assured Marti they didn't want a free lunch, Elizabeth turned to Skelly. "You could have at least accepted her offer to make you a pie for Christmas."

  "Nah. I have one serving of apple cider pie a year. I'd just eat the whole pie. That could get rough on my stomach."

  His comment reminded Elizabeth of the two men who had been sitting behind them. “What are their names? Those two guys who wished the Bully Pulpit still served beer.”

  Skelly said, “Because I told you they were patients, I won’t give you their names. I’m sure you can find them pretty easily.”

  “I get it,” Elizabeth said. But she didn’t. However, she’d seen enough of the men to describe them to Hammer or one of the others. As long as the larger one, the one whose speech seemed slightly slurred, didn’t drive, she didn’t care about them. Unless they did laundry across the street.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BACK AT THE STATION AFTER lunch on Wednesday, Hammer had the phone at his ear, and she could hear Calderone and Mahan in the break room. Sounded as
if they were discussing football, so she wouldn’t head back there.

  She had just settled at her desk to call Jerry Pew when Hammer knocked on her office’s door jamb. “Either somebody’s upping the ante or we have a new crackpot in town.” He walked to her desk and handed Elizabeth a piece of lined white paper, which he had placed in a clear evidence bag. "Found this in the alley, near the corner of the building."

  Elizabeth studied the note’s block printing. “No one cares who killed Louella Bell. Stay away before somebody gets hurt.”

  Hammer shook his head slightly. “I read it, obviously. Seems if it were serious there’d be a more specific threat.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Probably. Since no witness has been mentioned in the paper, and given where you found it, this seems to be directed at us.” She handed him back the note. “I think we can take care of ourselves, but let the guys know about this.”

  He accepted it, but didn’t turn to leave. “You want to keep the holiday schedule the same, or you want more of us on?”

  She leaned back in her desk chair. “If Louella Belle were murdered today, so close to Christmas, I might rearrange. But we’ve done most of the interviews we can think of, and gathered any evidence from the scene.”

  Hammer nodded. “I saw you let Squeaky reopen the laundromat today.”

  Elizabeth grinned. “Did you see how he decorated it?”

  “Nope.”

  “He has a Christmas tree in the window and most of the decorations are laundry detergent pods.”

  Hammer laughed as he turned toward the door. “Those’ll be gone by Christmas Eve.”

  "Hey," Elizabeth called, "two guys were eating in the diner just now. Late twenties, probably. Skelly said they work at the packing plant, but didn't want to tell me their names."

  Hammer's eyebrows shot up. "Why not?"

  "Patients of his, sometimes. They could well be upstanding citizens, but they looked rough, and Skelly said they'd been in some fights. Sound familiar?"

  "Nope. They still there when you left?"

  “No. They could be nearby, or might have gone home or to work.”

  Hammer again turned toward the hallway. "I'll glance down the street a couple of times to see if I can see them hanging around."

  Elizabeth thought about the two men as she placed her gun in the file cabinet, locked it, and returned to her desk to call Jerry Pew. He might know them, but she'd never ask.

  She knew the newspaper phone number by heart. "Afternoon Jerry, hear you've stirred up some suspects in Louella Belle's death."

  "Well now, Chief, I might be willing to compare notes before I run the story."

  "Since I have none, that would be tough. You aren't holding onto information about a criminal act are you?" She wasn't about to use a term like obstructing justice. Jerry would get all 'protecting sources' on her.

  "Now, if I knew something solid, I'd tell you so you could make an arrest."

  Elizabeth took a sip of the cold coffee she'd left on her desk. "Thing is, if you have an inkling, I'm the one in the position to investigate. What did you hear?"

  "Just rumors, mostly."

  "Jerry, I'm serious. Do you know something I should know?" She emphasized the you and I.

  Jerry muttered something Elizabeth couldn't hear.

  "Anyone you suggest I talk to?"

  "Nuthin' like that, Chief. Just rumors about people selling stuff in there."

  "Are we talking Avon or Girl Scout cookies?" Elizabeth asked.

  He grunted. "To be honest, I don't know. Just heard about money changing hands."

  "Just money, or something with the money?"

  Elizabeth could envision Jerry's gulp as he paused. "See, Chief, that's all I heard. I been goin' by there, in my car, now and again, to take a peek for myself."

  "Okay, Jerry, here's the deal. You let us investigate. I have people keeping an eye on the laundromat."

  "Did you..?"

  She raised her voice. "When we know something, I mean know, not wonder about, I promise I will talk to you."

  "Before the papers in Carlinville or Carbondale?"

  Elizabeth almost laughed. Those towns were much bigger than Logland and had daily papers. "I'll talk to you first, but you know they might publish first. I can't wait two days before I talk to other news outlets."

  "Yeah, I hear you. Well, I got that web page now. I don't put the whole articles on there, but if I get the story first I can put it on the web."

  Elizabeth tried to keep impatience out of her voice. "Fine. Now, what do you actually know?"

  "You heard Finn Clancy is in there a lot?"

  "Later in the evening. Is it every day, Jerry?"

  "Course, I only been paying attention the last few days. And Squeaky only reopened today."

  Elizabeth stifled a curse. "So, Jerry, guess we found out the same stuff. If you let people think you know secrets, you could put a bulls-eye on your back. Leave the investigating to us, and I'll tell you what we find when it can be public."

  "How about off the record sometimes, Chief?"

  "We'll see. Don't slide on the ice." She hung up.

  Male voices burst into laughter outside her door. Hammer walked into her office, followed by Calderone and Mahan.

  Elizabeth stared at the men. She appreciated all of them, and like most of the force, they worked hard. But she wanted at least one of them to retire so she could hire younger people, officers who could deal more easily with the college students. And she needed at least one more woman in the ranks.

  "Okay, guys. Did you know how little Jerry knew?"

  Calderone sat on one corner of her desk, while Hammer and Mahan stayed in the doorway. Calderone grinned. "You gotta figure Jerry can't keep his trap shut, whether he knows anything or not. Mahan here thought you'd tear him a new one."

  Mahan straightened to his full five-feet eight. "Now, I don't talk like that to the Chief."

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him. "You forgot I worked in Chicago for five years?"

  "No, ma'am. But I figure you're here now, and you don't talk like some big city cops."

  "Good observation. Who checked out Squeaky's change machine?"

  They sobered. "I did," Hammer said. "And then I asked Mahan to take a look because I thought the scratches around the lock could mean somebody was trying to jimmy it."

  Elizabeth looked at Mahan.

  "I thought so, too," he said. "Maybe somebody using a tiny flat screwdriver. You know, trying to work the lock but slipping with the tool now and then. But the lock doesn't look damaged."

  "Prints?" she asked.

  "Took a few from there three nights ago," Calderone said. "Hadn't made the ones from the change machine a high priority request with AFIS, but I'm about to bug them about all the prints."

  Elizabeth pointed to the several chairs scattered near her desk. "Pull up a seat." As they did, she added, "Skelly said Louella Belle could have hit her head on the lip of the laundry tub in the back corner. Injured her neck pretty badly, maybe made her pass out."

  They nodded in tandem. "Saw his draft report," Calderone said.

  "So, that's pretty far from the front of the store, where the bill changer is. But she could have seen something odd in the front, gotten scared, and run toward the back if she couldn't get out the front door to the street."

  "You think someone killed her because she saw them trying to take a bunch of quarters?" Mahan asked.

  "No, but someone could have run after her to talk, grabbed her arm and she fell. I figure the odds of her murder being planned are pretty slim."

  "You didn't have to take home nutrition from her in high school," Hammer said.

  "Wasn't she after your time?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Ouch," Calderone said.

  Hammer half smiled. "My youngest brother had her. And my oldest sister's children. The kids mostly ignored her, but when parents went in for parent-teacher conferences, she lectured them on what they fed their kids."

  Mahan f
rowned. "She told my next-door neighbor that her daughter was going to be a fat lady in the circus if she didn't quit feeding the kid junk food."

  "Good God," Elizabeth said.

  Mahan nodded. "Principal made her write a letter of apology. Never figured out why she didn't get fired."

  "Spend a lot of time thinking about it?" Calderone asked.

  "Shut up," Mahan said, but good naturedly.

  "How long has she been retired?" Elizabeth asked.

  Calderone pulled a notebook from his shirt pocket. "Six-and-a-half years ago. Far as anyone knows, she didn't take a job after she retired."

  Elizabeth leaned back in her desk chair. "That means she was past seventy when she stopped working. She must have liked her job."

  Calderone shrugged. "She doesn't have family or, as far as I can tell, friends. Maybe she didn't know what to do without a job."

  "I wonder how she did spend her days?" Elizabeth mused.

  Mahan said, "She did a couple talks about healthy eating at the library, but after a couple of sessions, no one went back. She did volunteer at the summer lunch program every year, where kids can eat at the rec center for free."

  Elizabeth nodded. "I know the program, but I only visited twice. Don't think I saw her."

  "Sometimes she served food, but mostly they had her making calls to get food donations from local businesses and food banks and stuff. Lady who runs the program said she was pretty good at that."

  "Glad to hear it," Elizabeth said, "first positive thing I've heard about her. But the program doesn't run during other vacations, does it?"

  All three men said, no, and Calderone added, "She used to volunteer at the food bank, but she badgered them about using more organic food. They finally said she could only come if she quit lecturing people, so she stopped coming."

  Elizabeth shook her head. "Sounds more like her." She looked at each man in turn. "So, we still know next to nothing? Did she even do her laundry there?"

  "Nope," Hammer said. "She had a nice washer and dryer at her place. Small house, but everything ship-shape when we checked it the day after she was killed."

  Elizabeth focused on Calderone. "When did you say you'd get any fingerprint matches?"

  He stood. "Could have some in my email now."