Take Stock in Murder

by Millie Mack

  “I know your next question. I saw no one, and to my knowledge, no one saw me. In the library I found the bracelet under one of the seat cushions on the sofa.” Carrie took a sip of coffee. “I left through the library French doors and walked around the veranda back to the car. I got back into the car and left,” she added calmly.

  Carrie glanced at Charles with a twinkle in her eye. “I didn’t do it. I swear I didn’t kill nobody,” she said, trying to sound like a gangster’s moll.

  “I’m not amused. Be serious,” he said sternly. “How long were you in the Club?”

  “Let me think. From the car to the library—search for bracelet, found bracelet—and back to the car, I’d say fifteen to twenty minutes. Fifteen minutes to drive to the Club, then another fifteen minutes to drive back. That time frame works, because when I crawled back into bed and looked at the clock, it was just past three.”

  “You really think no one saw you?”

  “Charles, one hundred people might have seen me. But I didn’t see anyone, and they certainly didn’t speak to me.”

  “Well, at least one person must have seen you—or at least your purse.”

  “I forgot about that,” she said. “Hey, this is beginning to look like a frame.”

  “It may not have been planned, but it sure looks like someone took advantage of the situation.”

  “Charles, I’ve got a question for you.” The kitten gave a big sigh as it closed its eyes and snuggled between the two of them. “When I got back last night, you were nowhere around. I was no sooner back in bed than you joined me. Where were you between two and three?”

  “That’s a fair question.” He paused. “I was following you.”

  “You were following me!” she exclaimed.

  “My stomach was a little upset. I suspect too much buffet food. I went downstairs for a glass of milk. I was sitting at the kitchen table when I saw your car go down the lane. I was worried about you. I grabbed my keys and my overcoat and followed. I didn’t even take time to dress, and it was all I could do to keep your taillights in view.”

  “I still can’t believe you followed me. Where did you think I was going?” she said.

  “Honestly? I had no idea where you were going. But it was after two a.m. Most people don’t go out at that time.”

  “Suppose I was only going to the 7-Eleven for coffee?”

  “Then I’d have joined you for coffee.”

  “Suppose I was meeting my secret lover?” she asked coyly.

  “Then at last I’d get to meet him.” He grinned.

  “Don’t worry. The only taste I have in men is sitting beside me. Why didn’t you join me when you got to the Club?”

  “I tried to, but I got caught at a red light the block before the Club. When I arrived at TC3, I didn’t see your car. I tried to find you, but you knew where you were going, and I was looking in every room. I thought I heard a noise in the game room and headed in that direction. That’s when I saw several of the cleaning crew moving the extra tables and chairs out of the dining room. I figured they’d made the noise.”

  “Charles, did any of the crew see you?”

  “It’s possible, but they were concentrating on carting the extra tables and chairs out the veranda doors to the trucks. At that point I saw through the hall window that you were pulling out of the lot, and I went back to my car.”

  “Charles, the noise you heard—could it have been a shot?”

  “I was a little too far away from the sound to be sure, but it didn’t sound like a gun. It was more of a thud. That’s why I assumed it was the cleaning crew.”

  “What time did McCall say Todd was shot?” Carrie asked.

  “Between midnight and six a.m., and that isn’t good news for us. Assuming the noise I heard was a gun, I can testify you didn’t do it. There wasn’t enough time between hearing the noise and seeing you drive away for you to have been involved. But the police will assume whatever I say is to protect you. And by making that statement, I’d have to admit we were both at the Club at the time of the murder.”

  “Of course, we’re also assuming a lot. We don’t know if Todd was even there at that time,” added Carrie.

  “Oh, he was there. I parked next to his car. That’s why I went in.”

  “Charles, you thought I was going to meet Todd?”

  “I thought no such thing! I knew, based on where you had parked, that you weren’t aware Todd was still there. I didn’t want you to run into him unexpectedly. Otherwise I’d have found your car and waited to take you out for that cup of coffee.”

  “Oh, Charles, what are we going to do? It won’t take those two policemen long to find out that we were at the Club a second time.”

  “Maybe not. Perhaps no one did see us.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “The way the Club is set up, a person can enter from any one of the French doors off the veranda into the library or game room. The cleaning crew was concentrating on the kitchen, the dining room, and of course the ballroom, so there was no reason for them to go near either of those rooms. But there are still some very damaging pieces of evidence against us.”

  Charles ruffled the fur on the kitten’s head. The kitten opened one eye and looked annoyed that his nap had been interrupted. “We were at the Club,” Charles continued. “We fought with Todd. We both returned to the Club during the time frame of Todd’s murder. We may not have been seen, but our cars could be identified. Wow, I know we’re innocent, but I’m having a hard time believing our own story.”

  “What do we do next?” Carrie asked.

  “We call around and see if we can find a doctor.”

  “Charles, are you ill?”

  “No, we need a doctor to check out our new kitten. I’ve always liked the name Baxter. What do you think?”

  “Baxter. Yes, that has a nice ring to it. Plus, he looks like a Baxter.”

  “Then Baxter it is.”

  Carrie and Charles were lost in their own thoughts as they watched Baxter jump down from the sofa and begin wandering around his new home.

  ithin the hour, both Carrie and Charles were decked out in their comfortable Sunday corduroys and sweaters. Charles lost the argument about working on Todd’s murder without Carrie’s help. Carrie insisted that they needed to be realistic and that two Faraday brains working on a case were always better than one.

  Charles also realized there might come a time when someone else would have to carry on the investigation, especially if he were charged with Todd’s murder.

  “OK, I’m ready. Where are we going?” Carrie asked as she placed her leather shoulder bag on the kitchen table.

  “I know where I’d like to be going.”

  “Oh, darling, I know. I promise we’ll go boat shopping as soon as all this is behind us.”

  “Before we leave, tell me everything you know about Todd Barrington.” Charles had his notebook out for a second time.

  “Let me see. He’s the grandson of Harold Barrington, one of the original founders of TC3. He’s the son of Edward Barrington, the soon-to-be president of the Club. I wonder if Edward was called Eddie when he was a small boy.”

  “Was he ever small?” Charles joked, then corrected himself. “Sorry—we both need to be serious.”

  “Todd has two brothers, Brad and Kent. Brad works here in the family business, and Kent is learning the trade at a friend’s brokerage on the West Coast. His family is one of the oldest financial families in the state, probably the country. He attended one of the country’s best schools and finally graduated with a degree in business.”

  “As I recall, he actually attended several of the best schools before graduating,” Charles added.

  “You’re correct, and he was working as a junior something or other at the family firm. I remember reading most of this in the paper when he joined the firm.”

  “And he’s a fair golfer when sober.”

  “That adds a lot. Maybe it was an outraged golfer who shot him.”


  “Actually, that’s the best lead we have, but you see what I’m saying? We know very little about Todd. Who are his friends? What does he do at his daddy’s firm? What does he do when not working? That, my dear Carrie, is where we need to concentrate.”

  “We don’t even know where he lives. I heard he moved out of his family’s house several months ago and has an apartment somewhere in downtown Tri-City.”

  “OK, that’s it. That’s where we start.” Charles walked over to the phone and dialed a number he knew from memory.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Sandy Waxtrum.”

  “Why would you call your executive assistant at this moment?”

  “I want to…” Before he finished, the phone was answered. “Sandy, sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I need the answer to a quick question. Do you remember a few weeks ago? We prepared some ad proofs for Mr. Barrington. He asked us to deliver them to his son’s apartment so Todd could bring them home to him over the weekend. Yes, those are the ones. Do you remember the address of Todd’s apartment?”

  Charles took out a pen and wrote the address on a tablet. “Thanks, Sandy. I knew you would remember. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  He tore off the top sheet of paper and handed it to Carrie. “Here you are—Todd’s address in the city. Now you know why Sandy is such a gem. She has a mind for details.”

  “What about our two detective friends? Won’t they have the address, too?”

  “They probably do have the address. I’m hoping because the address is in the city and out of their jurisdiction that they won’t get permission to search the apartment until Monday. So we have a small window of opportunity, but we need to move fast.”

  “Faster than a phone call.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They could call one of their buddies on the city squad and have them go over and check the condo. Or at the very least, ask them to put up one of those crime scene tapes so no one else can go snooping.”

  “Hey, I thought you wanted to play detective with me.”

  “I do.”

  “Where have I heard those words before? Oh, yes, I remember—it was when I married you. That’s when the trouble began,” Charles said.

  “Oh, so marrying me was trouble, was it?”

  “Yes, darling, but I’ve loved every minute of the trouble we’ve been in together. Especially when we solve puzzles together.”

  The first puzzle they’d solved was when she’d returned to Tri-City three years ago to investigate the murder of Charles’s brother. She’d started working the case alone, until she eliminated Charles as a possible suspect. Then they’d joined forces to find the real killer and had been together ever since.

  “We better get going if we want to beat the police,” Carrie said.

  “OK, you get the car. I need to make a couple more phone calls. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Carrie loved this season of the year. There was still sunshine to warm the body, but there was a coolness that was slowly creeping into the air. She made sure the kitty was comfortable in the kitchen with water and an old cardboard carton, cut low with shredded newspaper, for a litter box. She would have to remember on their way back from the city to pick up some proper supplies for their new addition. She decided to take Charles’s sports utility vehicle and pulled up to the front door. When Charles came out of the house, he exchanged places with Carrie in the driver’s seat.

  “OK, all set,” he said.

  Charles headed right for the Tri-County Pike, a four-lane expressway, which took Nottingham commuters straight into the heart of Tri-City. Tri-County had grown from an agricultural community in early 1900’s where goods were shared and traded among the three nearby counties of Allwin, Dorchester, and St. Thomas, into a city supporting the workforce for the entire area.

  Thirty minutes later, Charles pulled into the garage at his office building, which caused Carrie to ask, “Why are we at your office? Do you need to pick something up?”

  “No, we’re going to park here.”

  “But, Charles, we must be twenty blocks from Todd’s apartment.”

  “We’re going to use public transportation. This way, should the police check our movements, we were at my office. And should the police show up at Todd’s apartment, our car won’t be parked out front.”

  “Clever, Holmes,” she said.

  “Thank you, Watson.”

  They went through the lobby of Charles’s office building and out onto the side street, then walked the half block to the entrance of the Tri-City Metro. Within a few minutes, the train dropped them to within a block of Todd’s apartment. They walked past the building on the opposite side of the street.

  “It looks quiet. No sign of the cops. How are we going to bust into the joint?” Carrie asked.

  “It may be easier than you think. The reason I couldn’t remember Todd’s address is that these condos are newly renovated. Todd just moved in,” Charles said.

  “Interesting. This building isn’t in a cheap part of the city. Todd must be doing very well at the office.”

  “I made a phone call to the real-estate agent and discovered they’re still selling units. She’s expecting to show us a condo”— he looked at his watch—“just about now.” With that, he took Carrie’s arm and guided her across the street.

  The real-estate agent’s name was Mrs. Breckenridge. She was a woman in her midfifties who gave the impression of having spent her entire life selling real estate. She was immaculately dressed, with hair that had been recently coifed at a city salon. Her polished nails helped to highlight the expensive pen she was writing with when they arrived.

  She beamed with enthusiasm as she rose with her hand extended toward Charles. “I’m so glad you and Mrs. Eckenrode came at this time. Later in the afternoon, I get very busy and can’t spend as much time with each prospective buyer as I’d like. Now let me show you the wonderful features of these condos.”

  As Mrs. Breckenridge walked down the hallway ahead of them, Carrie whispered through her teeth, “Mrs. Eckenrode?”

  Charles shrugged and said, “It’s the name of my sixth-grade teacher.”

  Mrs. Breckenridge proceeded to guide Carrie and Charles throughout each and every room in the model. She talked colors, carpets, and concepts. Several times Carrie looked at Charles, waiting for him to make a move to break away from this very professional sales agent. But he seemed to be enjoying every feature she outlined and took the time to ask questions or add comments to her sales pitch.

  “The rooms are laid out very practically and yet maintain the charm of the architecture of the thirties,” Charles said as they returned to the living room and the sales desk.

  “Oh, Mr. Eckenrode, you do have an eye for design. Those were the exact specifications we gave our designer: ‘Add the modern features today’s buyers want, but maintain the charm.’”

  “Well done, Mrs. Breckenridge, well done. I also like the height of these rooms. Being tall, I like a ceiling that gives me some breathing room.”

  “These tall ceilings are found in the older buildings of this city. You don’t get that feature with new construction.” She paused briefly, then continued, “You know, you still get a ten-percent discount, because we’re just under the halfway sales mark.”

  “Is there still a selection of units?” Charles asked.

  “Oh, yes. We still have thirteen units left, and not until I sell three more does the ten-percent opening offer go away.” She repositioned her half-lens glasses on the end of her nose. “However, if I’m truly honest with you, I must tell you that I expect to close two units today.”

  “Yes, I can see how condos like this will go fast. And would you believe number thirteen is our lucky number? Now, let me get my bearings. The east side faces the park, and the west side would face the river. Do you have any units left on the river side?”

  “Well, yes. I’ve six left facing the river. But, Mr. Eckenrode, those units are more expensive than t
he prices I quoted earlier. Aside from facing the river, they all have two bedrooms with a den, not the one bedroom with a den, as you’ve seen here.”

  “I understand they would be more expensive, but I think we would prefer the larger apartment. When we come to the city for dinner or to see a show, we come with friends. With two bedrooms, we can extend an overnight stay to our friends. And if we stay during the week, we would both need a place to work. A two bedroom with den seems perfect. Don’t you agree, darling?” Charles smiled.

  At first Carrie was dumbfounded by her husband’s performance, but then she decided to join the fun. “Absolutely! We must have another bedroom for our friends, should they get stranded here in the city during late-night theater dates and parties.” She tried to sound just the least bit snobbish.

  “We would also like to be higher so we’ve a better view. Let’s see. We’re on the third floor. What do you think, darling? Should we go to the eighth?”

  “I do have some on the eighth floor,” Mrs. Breckenridge broke in. “However, the higher you go, the more expensive the cost.” She looked at both Charles and Carrie over the top of her half-frame glasses. “I must apologize, Mr. Eckenrode. I forgot what company you work for.”

  “I don’t work for anyone!” Charles said, acting slightly annoyed. “I am president of our family business. You see, we’ve a house up in Tri-County, but it would also be nice to have something in the city.”

  Accepting Charles’s mild rebuke, Mrs. Breckenridge said, “I understand fully. And I do have a two-bedroom-with-den condo left on the eighth floor.” She turned to Carrie. “In fact, the gentleman who lives across the hall from this condo is from Tri-County also. Perhaps you know him. A Mr. Barrington, Todd Barrington.”

  “That name does sound familiar. Doesn’t it, darling?” Carrie said.

  “Yes. We must be sure to introduce ourselves. May we see the condo?”

  “Yes, I’ll be glad to show it to you.” Mrs. Breckenridge took a ring of keys from her desk, put up a sign saying she would be right back, and started to lead them out the door.

  Charles took a quick glance at his watch, and Mrs. Breckenridge caught him. “You’re not in a hurry, are you, Mr. Eckenrode? I really do want you to see the condo.”