Final Cycle

by Elaine L. Orr

  "We want to help," Just Juice added.

  "That's terrific. Let's start with the laundromat's change machine."

  "Uh, sure," Herbie said.

  When Just Juice said nothing, Elizabeth asked, "Why do you think your fingerprints were all over that machine, especially around the lock?"

  Herbie answered so fast Elizabeth thought they had rehearsed the response. "See, one day, it took our five dollar bill but didn't give us change."

  Just Juice nodded very fast, which exercised his double chin.

  "So, what made the little scratches?" Elizabeth asked.

  Herbie said, "My pen."

  Just Juice said, "My nail clipper."

  Herbie's eyes widened and came back to normal size. Just Juice reddened.

  "Ah," Elizabeth frowned. "I take it you tried more than a couple of times."

  "It was five bucks," Herbie said.

  "That's almost three loads," Just Juice added.

  "So, you got the money back?" she asked.

  "Uh, no. I mean, the next person could have gotten double change," Herbie said.

  "So then what?" Elizabeth looked from one man to the other. "You told Squeaky and he gave it back? Or told you too bad?"

  Quickly, Just Juice said, "He already went home."

  Elizabeth opened her small, spiral notebook. "When was this?"

  "Um," Herbie said.

  "Lemme see." Just Juice's expression might have been intended to be thoughtful. Elizabeth thought it looked more like a toddler on the potty.

  She set her pen on the table with a sharp snap. "I think there could be some things you aren't telling me." She did a gimme gesture with four fingers of her left hand.

  "Really," Herbie said, "that's all there is to it."

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "On Monday five bucks is a burger and fries at the Bully Pulpit."

  "Also Thursday," Just Juice said.

  "All the more reason to ask for your money from Squeaky. Convince me that you weren't trying to open the change machine to steal its contents."

  Elizabeth listened to ten seconds of indignant denials. "Studied Shakespeare yet?"

  "Huh?" Herbie asked.

  She stared at each of them in turn. "Me thinketh you protest too much."

  Just Juice shifted his heavy frame in his chair. "Honest, Chief. We just wanted our money back."

  Elizabeth stood. "I'm sure you'll file for reimbursement with Mr. Miller." She pointed to the door of the conference room. "You can leave."

  They stood and moved toward the door, apparently uncertain which one should precede the other through it. When she heard them say goodbye to Sgt. Hammer and close the station door behind them, Elizabeth walked out of the conference room.

  Hammer met her in the hallway. "No dice?"

  "Dice, I think, but of course they don't want to admit they were trying to break into the machine."

  Hammer followed Elizabeth into her office. "They're both so big they could almost block the view from the street. Of the machine, I mean."

  She nodded. "And it's partially blocked by a column. I told them to ask Squeaky for a refund, since they said it kept their five-dollar bill. If Squeaky kept better records we'd have something to go on."

  "His changer would be five dollars over?" Hammer asked.

  "Yep. I think they'll quit trying to break into the changer, but it doesn't really help us with Louella Belle."

  Hammer half-shrugged. "Maybe it'll give them an incentive to tell you more later."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ELIZABETH HUNG UP HER phone after encouraging the city clerk to take up a collection to get Finn Clancy a bike. She smiled. Dingle really didn't want to do it, but finally agreed.

  Before she could think about what to do next, Hammer ran into her office. "Stanley Buttons is dead. At the senior apartments."

  "Heart attack?"

  "Sort of. A knife stopped his heart."

  Only Wednesday and two murders this week? She stood and reached for her jacket and cap and unlocked the file cabinet to retrieve her gun. She had begun to think she should wear it in the station. "Where? In his apartment?"

  Hammer stood aside as she strode past him into the bullpen. "In the parking lot. When he didn't come back from the grocery store by dinner time, someone found him."

  "Cameras in that lot?" Elizabeth asked.

  "They have cameras at the main and side exits, but focused on the areas around the doors. None in the lot."

  "Damn. See if you can find Calderone and Mahan. Have them meet me at the apartments."

  "With the crime scene kit," Hammer said.

  Elizabeth turned on the car's lights and siren and was at the senior apartments in less than two minutes. Grayson beat her there. She wondered if someone had called his cell directly, or if he'd been close and seen the ambulance.

  He walked up as she got out of her car. "It's terrible, Chief. It looks like…"

  Elizabeth said, "Don't talk so loud."

  He swallowed. "I'm sorry. So hard to see. Looks like he tried to crawl a few feet after he got stabbed. If someone had seen him…"

  "We don't know yet if that would have made a difference." She walked quickly toward the ambulance and small firetruck. "We need a broader perimeter Grayson. Set it up."

  "Yes, Chief." He pulled a wad of crime scene tape from his jacket pocket.

  Elizabeth frowned. At least Grayson had thought of that. She really needed a different person on in the evening.

  An EMT gestured that she should come to him. "Chief. Helluva thing." He nodded at the pavement.

  Stanley now lay on his back coat unbuttoned, with a defibrillator on the ground near him. It didn't look as if the EMTs had tried to use it.

  Elizabeth agreed with Grayson. The man had likely crawled a few paces on his stomach, because the blood trail had two large round spots. Probably from where his chest had rested a couple of times as he crawled.

  She glanced at the young EMT, whom she didn't recognize. "Looks like major blood loss."

  He nodded, and spoke in a low voice. "The wound is just below the heart, I think. Probably hit an artery. Wool coat absorbed a lot of the blood. He didn't last long."

  "You call the ME?"

  He nodded. "Skelly said to tell you he'd meet you here, instead of the diner." His look held a question.

  Elizabeth smiled briefly. "He has my cat. She got injured today, and he's been keeping an eye on her."

  The EMT raised his eyebrows. "What, he's a vet now?"

  "Just helping me out." She extended her hand. "Chief Elizabeth Friedman."

  "Seen your picture in the paper. Nick Weaver. Just moved here from Springfield." He turned back to the ambulance and the several other EMTs and fire fighters who stood a few feet from Stanley.

  Elizabeth did a full rotation, taking in the scene. The seven-story apartments had a smaller parking lot than other complexes of its size. Most of its residents didn't drive. At the far end, close to the street, a row of what she thought were honeysuckle bushes provided a barrier between the sidewalk and parking lot. Even though they had shed most of their leaves, they still obstructed the view from the street into the lot.

  She refocused on the area close to her. The cold had kept most onlookers in the apartment building's lobby. Or maybe some had come out and then gone back in. Grace stood between two men, who appeared to be in their mid-seventies. The men had on heavy coats, but Grace had wrapped herself in a heavy afghan.

  "Why don't you three sit in my car with me? You can get warm." She gestured toward her car, and walked ahead of them. She leaned into the driver's side, turned off its flashing lights, and started the ignition.

  She opened the car's back door. "Gentlemen, have a seat. Grace, you'll get warmer faster in the front seat." Elizabeth opened the front passenger door, and watched as one of the men guided Grace into the car. Then he climbed in the back.

  Elizabeth got into the driver's seat, shut her door, and turned up the heat before she turned to fa
ce them. "If we sit here for a few minutes we can talk quietly." She studied Grace, whose cheeks bore tear tracks. "I'm sorry, Grace."

  She dabbed at her nose with a balled tissue. "He asked if I needed anything, and I wanted some red and green sprinkles. You know, for Christmas cookies."

  Elizabeth leaned across the seat to grab some tissues from her glove box. She handed Grace one and waved a couple toward the back seat. The men declined.

  "I don't believe I've met you gentlemen. Did you find Stanley?"

  The man in a black wool coat said, "Herb Schwartz."

  The second man, who wore a Green Bay Packers jacket, said, "Arthur Tennenbaum. No, we didn't find him. The apartment receptionist was just leaving when Grace said Stanley should have been back. She, Angela's her name, said she'd stop at the grocery store on her way home, but when she was walking to her car she saw Stanley."

  Elizabeth felt annoyed. She had assumed, always bad form, that she would be questioning the people who found Stanley. "Do you know where Angela went?"

  Herb Schwartz said, "We were in the lobby when she came in to call you folks. She said Stan was dead, and she was holding it together, but she was upset."

  "Of course," Elizabeth said. "Where is she?"

  "She left her phone number at the front desk," Herb said.

  Arthur jumped in. "Her husband is diabetic, and she makes sure she's home to fix dinner."

  Elizabeth felt her eyebrows go up.

  "Her husband's in bed. Lost his foot to diabetes last year."

  "I get it," Elizabeth said. "I'll call her in a few minutes. So, she came in from the lot, and you came right out?"

  Herb said, "We went down the hall to our apartments to get our coats before we came out."

  "Since we couldn't help him," Arthur said.

  "Smart," Elizabeth said. "So you were on the scene within what, a couple of minutes?"

  "They live on the first floor," Grace said. "I didn't want to go to the fourth floor to get my coat. I took an afghan from the lobby."

  Herb said, "Two, three minutes."

  "Did you notice anyone?" she asked.

  Both men shook their heads. Arthur added, "Very quiet. Hardly anyone's been out. The lot still has patches of ice."

  Grace sobbed into a tissue. "I knew it was bad as soon as Angela hurried back in. I thought maybe Stanley fell."

  Two cars pulled into the lot. Elizabeth recognized Mahan's patrol car and Skelly's dark green Camry.

  She looked at the threesome. "I need to talk to my officer. How about I pull up to the entrance so you don't have to walk on the ice. Then I'll be back in a few minutes and I'll probably want to talk to you again."

  She turned to Grace. "Have you called your daughter?"

  Grace shook her head. "My phone's inside."

  Elizabeth turned her head toward the back seat. "Can you help Grace get to her phone, and walk her to her apartment to get something warmer?"

  "Sure thing," Herb said.

  She turned to the steering wheel and put the car in gear. "I or one of my officers will talk to you again tonight. In the meantime, please think about anything you might have noticed in the parking lot, and don't talk to a lot of people."

  She pulled to the lobby door as Arthur said, "No cross-contamination, so to speak."

  Elizabeth glanced at him via her rear view mirror. "Exactly. You retired law enforcement?"

  "No. Department of Agriculture food inspection. Same principles."

  Elizabeth figured half of her job now was to calm frightened residents. She quickly got to Grace's passenger door and helped the woman out.

  Mahan walked over to her. "Chief?"

  "I'm going to talk to the group for just a minute and come out. You know what to do."

  He turned back toward the ambulance. "Sure do."

  In a weak voice, Grace asked, "What's he going to do?"

  "Make sure you're safe."

  Automatic doors parted and the four of them entered the now crowded lobby.

  Questions poured from the group.

  "Is it really Stanley?"

  "What happened?"

  "Should we stay inside?"

  "Is it the same person who killed Louella Belle?"

  Arthur and Herb led Grace to an upholstered chair as Elizabeth spoke. "As I think you heard from Angela, she did find Stanley. But I have to ask you not to talk to others about his identity. We have not notified his family."

  A man in a wheelchair said, "I called his son in Peoria. He's coming down."

  Inwardly, Elizabeth winced. "Before I step back outside, please give me his phone number."

  She addressed the group. "When we know anything, I will tell you. In the meantime…"

  A woman in expensive-looking green slacks and a cream blouse asked, "When, in six weeks?"

  "Genevieve," another woman muttered.

  "I can't give you a timeframe on resolving the situation, but I guarantee I or one of my officers will stop by every day for a while. It's less scary when you know what's going on."

  A couple of people said thank you.

  "As far as tonight is concerned, I need to go back outside for now. I'd like to give you some things to think about before I come back. Please do me a favor and don't talk a lot about this until you talk to me or Officer Mahan or one of the others."

  "Why not?" Genevieve asked.

  "I need your individual recollections first. Before I go outside, in the last couple of hours, did anyone see a stranger in the building, or the parking lot?"

  They looked at one another and said no or shook their heads.

  "Okay. Things to think about. Not to tell me this minute. When you last saw or talked to Stanley, if he mentioned whether anyone was angry with him, or whether he was annoyed with anyone. Did Stanley do anything out of his usual routine lately?"

  Arthur asked, "May we go to our apartments?"

  Elizabeth hesitated. "Briefly, if you need something. For those of you who were in the immediate area when Stanley was found, or if you have something helpful to tell us, please wait in the lobby initially."

  She glanced at Arthur. "Sir, maybe you could start a list of names and phone numbers for me."

  "Of course."

  The man in the wheelchair pulled up to her. "His son is Steven. Number's on the napkin."

  Elizabeth thanked him and turned toward the door. She walked back into the cold, trying to decide if she should call Stanley's son when he was on the road. She would think about that for a couple of minutes.

  Murder was always horrible, but with Louella Belle's, she could speculate as to motive. Stanley had seemed like a good-natured retiree who would not accumulate enemies. What was going on in Logland?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SOMEONE HAD DRIVEN THE ME'S van into the lot and Skelly and another man were lifting Stanley onto a gurney as Elizabeth walked back into the lot. The second man had dark green scrubs under his heavy parka, so Elizabeth figured he had brought the van from the hospital.

  Mahan stopped her before she'd gone twenty feet. "Skelly said Stanley had something under three of his fingernails. Can't tell what."

  "Let's hope he scratched his killer. Anyone see anything out here?"

  Mahan shook his head. "No, and since the lot is in front of the main entrance, the building sits back quite a ways from the street. Unless there'd been a loud struggle, I doubt someone walking a dog would have noticed much."

  "Okay. I'll talk to Skelly for a minute." Elizabeth noted all but one ambulance had left and the crime scene tape was spread across several cars. "Take a lot of pictures and check under those cars that are taped. I don't see that we need to keep people out of their vehicles too long."

  "Grayson went back to the station to get the good camera," Mahan said.

  "You can warm up inside if you want. Tell them I'll be in to talk to them in five minutes and reassure them that you don't see any bad guys lurking out here."

  She turned toward the van. The man in scrubs pulled out of th
e lot as Skelly came toward her.

  "If you didn't want to do dinner you should have said so." Skelly's hands were thrust deep into his pockets and he had his arms pulled close, warming himself.

  She glanced at his feet. "You have on street shoes. You must be freezing. Why don't you sit in your car for a few minutes and I'll be back out."

  "Sounds good." He half-jogged to his car, almost slipping on a patch of ice.

  Elizabeth turned toward the apartment entrance. From a distance, it seemed no one had returned to their units.

  Grayson pulled into the lot with the camera and Mahan left the building as she entered. After five more minutes with the group, it was clear everyone, even the grouchy Genevieve, considered Stanley affable, always willing to do a favor if someone needed a ride to church or the pharmacy. He had not talked to any of them about people being angry with him or vice versa.

  Grace added, "But he didn't let anyone take advantage of him. And if he said he'd give you a ride and you were late, he wouldn't do it again."

  "How easy is it to get into this building?" Elizabeth asked.

  A frail-looking woman said, "But he was killed outside!"

  Arthur said, "She knows, Emily." He turned to Elizabeth. "You've seen the keypad. The security code is changed monthly. Used to be a system to it, month, year, that kind of thing. But someone stole part of the nativity scene last Christmas and…"

  "From the lobby," Grace added.

  Arthur smiled tightly. "Yes, the lobby. After that, the management company decided to make it random numbers every month."

  "And you have no idea what a pain that is," Genevieve said. "Half the people forget the code and then they pound on the door or use the intercom phone to call another resident to get in."

  A man who looked about ninety-five chuckled. "Always when I'm napping."

  "I haven't seen a manager tonight," Elizabeth said.

  "Nobody lives on site," Herb Schwartz said. "It's an independent living building. Desk only staffed during the day. Called the management firm an hour ago."

  Elizabeth reminded herself to call the absent receptionist and stopped herself from saying management response time was ridiculously slow. "So, I asked you about ease of getting in because I wondered if people who shouldn't be here often tried to sneak in."