Stiff Penalty (A Mattie Winston Mystery)

by Annelise Ryan

  I headed outside and got into Henderson’s car. Hoover thumped his tail on the back of his seat and nuzzled my neck. “I have the suite down on the east end,” I told Henderson. “Apparently you have the one on the west end.”

  “Yes, I do. We’ll be neighbors for a spell. And listen, I put in a call to the troopers while you were in there, and since we don’t know why this guy was after you, I’ve arranged for you to have a police guard for now. The state guys are stretched a little thin with this investigation on top of their regular duties, so we all agreed that the locals will provide the service. There will be someone from the Sorenson PD parked outside your room for the night.”

  “Thanks, I think.” I wondered if his motivation behind this arrangement was what he told me, or if it was because he felt the need to keep a close eye on his prime suspect.

  He drove me down to my room and helped me unload my stuff. As soon as we had everything inside, I let the cats out of their carriers. They were spooked and at first tried to get back into their carriers. Then Rubbish made a mad dash for the bed and tried to run under it. Unfortunately, there was no under portion because the bed sat on a wooden platform. Rubbish ran into it headfirst and crumpled into a bewildered ball of fur on the floor. Tux, who had been moved at least once already in his life, stayed put. I figured they’d both be on the bed within the hour, assuming Rubbish wasn’t too dizzy to jump up. Clearly he was not pleased with the arrangement, because as soon as he was able to pick himself up and walk, he came over to me and swatted my leg with his foot. Then he went over and settled down in front of the small couch.

  There was a knock on the door, and Henderson went to open it. Standing on the threshold was Brenda Joiner. “I’m here to keep an eye on Mattie.”

  “Hi, Brenda,” I said, peeking around Henderson at her. “Thanks for volunteering to take the first shift.”

  “I’ll do as many as I can,” she said. “I owe you.” In a way, this was true. Had I not intervened when I had in the last case we worked, Brenda Joiner might be dead.

  “I’ll be here until Bob comes to get you in the morning,” she said.

  Henderson turned to me then and said, “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “No, I was going to order something when I got home, but things didn’t quite go as planned.”

  “Want to join me? I was thinking of going to that Italian place in town. Joseph recommended it.”

  “I’d love to,” I said, salivating at the mere mention of food, not to mention Italian. Henderson turned to Brenda and said, “Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure.”

  I looked over at my animals, who were all watching us. “Just let me get the cats settled with the litter box and their food bowls. And I should probably take Hoover for a walk. He hasn’t done his business in a while.”

  Henderson said, “Then why don’t you go walk the dog, and I’ll get the cats set up for you.”

  Brenda frowned. “Maybe it would be better if I walked the dog,” she said. “The less time Mattie spends outside right now, the better.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” I asked, thinking that Henderson’s willingness to let me go outside confirmed my suspicions about his motives.

  “I don’t mind at all,” Brenda said, grabbing the leash and hooking it up. Then she gave Hoover a vigorous rub behind his ears, which had my dog drooling in ecstasy. By the time she headed out the door, Hoover was looking up at her with the canine equivalent of star-struck eyes. I think that if Brenda hadn’t ever come back that night, Hoover would have been all too happy to take her on as his new owner.

  As Henderson went about filling the litter box, I went into the bathroom to freshen up. I decided Henderson wasn’t such a bad guy after all. A little quirky maybe, but okay. But then, as I sat on the toilet, a thought came to me. I shook it off, thinking it was my paranoia setting in again, but the more I thought about it, the more I believed it. I finished peeing, quietly pulled up my pants, and then I put one hand on the door handle and the other on the flush handle. A second after I flushed, I whipped open the bathroom door.

  Henderson was standing by the table and chairs going through my purse. He froze mid-action and blushed bright red.

  “What the hell?” I said, my suspicion confirmed.

  “Sorry,” Henderson said. He dropped my wallet back into the purse, but he hung onto the cell phone that was in his other hand. “I had to,” he said, his tone apologetic. “Part of the investigation.”

  “First of all, you’re not a cop. And second of all, why didn’t you just ask me? I would have gladly let you paw through anything you wanted to see.”

  “I suppose I should have,” he said, blushing.

  “You think?” I snapped. I walked over, grabbed my purse, and dumped its contents out on the tabletop. “There, have at it,” I said. I grabbed an old tampon that I hadn’t even known was in there, ripped it open, and pulled the tampon out. “Oh, darn, it’s just a tampon, not a secret drug stash.” I walked over and held the tampon over a trash can, letting it dangle by the string. “Oh, wait, did you want to bag this just in case?”

  My reaction was crass and theatrical, intended to embarrass Henderson even more than he already was. It worked. His blush deepened and spread down his neck. Rather than let him off the hook, I pushed on, venting weeks of pent-up emotion and frustration on the poor man.

  I dropped the ruined tampon into the trash and then walked back to the table and grabbed a small, round, jewel-topped pill holder. When I hit a button on the side of it, the lid sprang open, revealing several tiny white pills. “Uh-oh, maybe I’m not just using drugs, maybe I’m dealing them, too,” I said in an overly dramatic voice. “Except, oh, darn, these are the nausea pills I had to have on hand when my morning sickness was really bad. Sorry to disappoint.” I snapped the lid closed and stood staring at him, one hand on my hip. “Anything else you want to see? Are there any more of my civil rights you want to violate?”

  “I said I was sorry,” Henderson stammered. “I just wanted to be sure.”

  “You have no business going through my personal belongings without my permission. You’re not a cop, Henderson, you’re an ME. Now kindly give me back my phone.”

  He handed it over, looking sheepish.

  I dropped the phone back into my purse and said, “I think you should leave now.”

  He nodded and hung his head. Then he shuffled his way out the door. Once he was outside, he turned around and opened his mouth to say something, but I slammed the door closed. Just before I shut it, I saw Brenda outside with Hoover standing in the middle of the parking lot looking wary, alert, and a little confused.

  “Damn it!” I muttered.

  A moment later there was a knock on the door, and after peering through the peephole, I let Brenda and Hoover inside. “Dr. Henderson looked a little tense,” Brenda said, unhooking Hoover’s leash.

  I looked down at Hoover, who was looking back at me with those soft brown eyes. He could tell I was upset, though I doubt he understood why. I stroked his head to reassure him.

  “We had a little disagreement,” I said vaguely. “The dinner plans have changed. I’m going to order a pizza. Care to join me?”

  “If you’re staying in, I think I’ll pass,” Brenda said. “The only reason I was going to go with you to the restaurant was to keep an eye on you. To be honest, I ate a short time ago and I’m not hungry. But thank you for the offer.”

  I thanked her for walking Hoover, and after she returned to her car I ordered my pizza: pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese. While waiting for it to be delivered, I finished unpacking my things. My anger was slowly dissipating, but it had worked up a mighty appetite in me.

  My pizza arrived, and after Brenda practically frisked the delivery boy, I settled down to eat. A few slices later, there was a knock on my door. I peered through the peephole and saw a state trooper standing outside along with Brenda.

  “Mattie, can you open up?” Brenda said. “Trooper Collins
needs to get a statement from you.”

  I opened the door and let Trooper Collins in. He was a short, bald, squat, older guy, built like a fireplug. He made me go through the entire story again, stopping me at frequent intervals to ask a question or clarify something I said. I expected him to be tough, maybe even a bit accusatory, but while he was annoyingly thorough, he was polite, objective, and to the point. Once he was gone, I nuked another piece of pizza, knowing I’d need fortitude for my next task: calling my mom.

  Before the night was done, I’d eaten the entire pizza.

  Saffron would have had a stroke.

  Chapter 19

  Richmond showed up right on time the next morning. I was ready and waiting for him because I’d barely slept all night. Tux and Rubbish had remained restless, too, and Hoover looked lost and bewildered. I suspect he’d thought of the move as an exciting trip of some sort initially, but now that I was leaving him, he didn’t understand why.

  “Where would you like to eat?” Richmond asked as I climbed into his car. I was surprised by the appearance of the interior. At one time it had been littered with the detritus of his fast-food habit. Now it was spick-and-span clean and smelled faintly of some type of lemony cleaner.

  “How about that little coffee shop on Main Street?” I suggested.

  “Works for me.” He pulled out of the parking lot, and I saw that Henderson’s Jeep was gone. Clearly the spy was an early riser. “How was your night?” Richmond asked.

  “Restless. The animals were all pacing and spooked. Plus I ordered a pizza and ate the whole thing. I had heartburn all night, and guilt over eating that much and not working out.”

  “Been there, done that,” Richmond said, and I knew he had and understood. He was one of the few people I could be honest with when it came to my eating and exercise habits. “Everybody’s entitled to a slip now and then.”

  “It’s the stress. It makes me eat,” I said, knowing this was a half-truth. Eating is pretty much my solution to everything in life. “I had to give a statement to one of the troopers, and after that I had to call my mother and tell her the news about my pregnancy before someone else did.”

  “How did that go?”

  “Oh, about like you’d expect, especially when she found out David isn’t the father. In her eyes I’ve sunk about as low as I can go. Talking to her was exhausting, and after that I had to talk to Izzy. Apparently Henderson called and filled him in.”

  “So did I,” Richmond said. “I figured he should know and I figured it couldn’t hurt to have him put in a word for you with Henderson.”

  “Perhaps, but that’s the last thing he needs right now with all he has going on down there in Iowa. Any news on the case?”

  “Which one, yours or the Ames case?”

  “Mine for starters. Do they know who this guy is who shot at me? Or why he shot at me?”

  “Well, we know who he is, but so far that hasn’t been much help. He’s a two-time felon named Roscoe Schneider with a history of rape and armed robbery. He did a double nickel down in Florida and was paroled last year. The cops down there said he’s been a troublemaker since he was a kid. Apparently he was raised in the foster system and got placed in some not-so-savory homes. He did some time in juvey after he held up a convenience store. Right after he got out he was accused of raping someone, but that case never went to trial because the victim refused to testify against him. She knew him prior to the rape, and Schneider swore that the sex was consensual, and that the girl only said it was rape because her father would have beat her if he thought she’d done it willingly. Since it basically boiled down to a case of he said, she said, the case got dropped. A year later Schneider was involved in a liquor store holdup that resulted in a homicide. That’s what got him put away.”

  “So he’s killed before?”

  “Not exactly, at least not in that case. The store had video cameras, and everything was caught on tape, but both men were masked and gloved, and it was only because of a lucky fluke that Schneider was caught. He was armed, but based on the video footage, he never fired a shot. The shot that killed the store owner was fired by Schneider’s partner, someone who was never caught. Two things led to Schneider getting nailed. First, the store owner’s daughter, who was also shot but survived, recognized Schneider’s voice. She’d been raped the week before, and though she couldn’t identify the man’s face because he was wearing a mask, when she heard Schneider’s voice during the robbery, she recognized it as that of her rapist. She didn’t report the crime at the time because Schneider threatened to come back and kill both her and her father if she did, and she knew she couldn’t identify the guy. But after the robbery she told the cops about the rape and her certainty that one of the robbers was also her rapist. The cops were able to tie Schneider to the robbery because one of the bullets hit a liquor bottle on the counter near where he was standing and the flying bits of glass cut him. He left a few tiny drops of blood on the floor, and the cops took a sample of it and ran it for DNA. Even though that earlier rape case against Schneider was dropped, his DNA was entered into the system, so the cops got a hit. The girl was able to identify him based on voice recognition alone from a lineup of masked men. The DA offered Schneider a lighter sentence in exchange for the name of his partner, but he opted to do the time instead. Because of that, the girl backed out of testifying against him for the rape, fearful his partner might try to exact revenge. So once again he escaped a rape charge, but he was sentenced to ten years for the holdup. He just got out a couple of months ago.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said, shaking my head. “Why did he come after me? What’s he even doing up here?”

  “We don’t know. Near as we can tell, Schneider’s never been in Wisconsin before, and he violated his parole by coming up here. As far as we know, he doesn’t have any connections to any cases here, so your guess is as good as mine. I don’t suppose his name rings a bell?”

  “None at all.”

  “Maybe he wandered up here for a change of scenery, and for whatever reason, you caught his eye.”

  It was a scary thought that made me shudder, though the more I thought about it, the less convinced I was. “I’m not sure I buy that, Richmond,” I said. “Not to knock myself, but if a rapist is on the hunt for a random victim, why would he pass up any number of attractive, petite women he could easily overpower physically for a woman my size? And if rape was what he had in mind, why didn’t he try? Why did he just shoot at me instead?”

  “All good questions,” Richmond admitted. “Hopefully with time we’ll get some answers.”

  “Do they think this guy was working alone?”

  “All I know so far is that the car was registered in Florida in his name, and there’s nothing so far to suggest a second person was involved. But I haven’t talked to any of the troopers yet this morning. We’ll get an update when we get to the station.”

  “How long do you think it will be before I can move back into my place?”

  “I don’t know, a few days . . . maybe a week? So far the evidence seems straightforward, and given Schneider’s record, I can’t imagine the investigation will take very long.”

  The evidence might have been straightforward, but the motive wasn’t. I hoped Richmond’s downplayed assessment was right, and I made an effort to put it, and my other life issues, out of my mind for now so I could focus on the Ames investigation. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen because when we entered the coffee shop, Hurley was there. Richmond escorted me in, staying close behind me, so close that he bumped into me when I saw Hurley and stopped short.

  I expected to see anger on Hurley’s face when he saw me, but instead he just looked sad. He walked over and greeted us.

  “Good morning,” he said, giving me a quick glance and then diverting his attention to Richmond. “My work plate is empty thanks to my time off and the fact that the state guys are working Mattie’s case. Need any help with the Ames investigation?”

  “Sure,” Ric
hmond said. “I’ve got a ton of people to interview, a ton of evidence to process, and, as usual, a handful of people to do it.”

  “Well, I’m glad to help,” Hurley said, and then he finally switched his attention to me. “I really need to talk to you sometime soon. Any chance you might be free for dinner?”

  I debated my options. On the one hand, I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting across a table from Hurley while he was wearing the hangdog expression he had at the moment. And I didn’t think our discussion would go any better than it had last night. But I also missed him terribly, and I was clinging, however futilely, to the idea that he might have some workable solution figured out.

  It was then that Richmond revealed just how good his detecting skills were. “Listen, I have some news that might help you guys out. Have you eaten yet, Steve?”

  Hurley shook his head. “I only came in for a coffee.”

  “Then join us for a bite.”

  I was curious, and judging from the expression on Hurley’s face, so was he. He nodded, and the three of us made our way to an empty table located in a back corner near the restrooms. Richmond made me sit on one side with him and Hurley across from one another. Richmond said he wanted to face the door so he could keep an eye on things. “If I yell at you to go,” he said, “run into the ladies room.”

  We perused the limited menu and made our choices; since there was no waitress, Richmond offered to go up to the counter and place our orders. That left me and Hurley alone.

  “I came back to your place last night to make sure you were okay,” Hurley said in a low voice so neighboring diners couldn’t hear him. “They had everything taped off. I take it you’re staying somewhere else for now?”

  I nodded. “For the moment I’m at the Sorenson Motel staying in the same suite David was in.” I rolled my eyes at this. “It’s not ideal, particularly since I don’t have a car to go anywhere, but hopefully I can move back into my place before too long.”