5 Murder at the High School Reunion

by Steve Demaree

  “Remember, he said he never beat her. Maybe he’s not a pummeling type of guy. Of course, it’s obvious he had no use for Jimmy Conkwright, but then we have yet to meet any members of Jimmy’s fan club. Still, could Jimmy’s presence make Duck Spencer act out of character?”

  “Well, if he was telling the truth, he didn’t know Conkwright was coming, although he did find out before he left home that Conkwright was there in case he wanted to plan something if he caught Conkwright with his wife.”

  “Tomorrow, we may stop by the shoe factory where Spencer’s wife worked and see what anybody there has to say about how Spencer treated his wife.”

  Lou and I mulled over what we’d learned, as we divvied up the four celery sticks, the four carrot sticks, the four cherry tomatoes, and the ten green olives. There were times when Lou and I would have considered hitting the olives with the vegetable sticks, but at that moment our minds were on the case. Besides, the cracked paint of the picnic table and the dust that had taken up residence there put a damper on things.

  “Do you think he took his wife’s truck because he knew that she’d never need it again?”

  “I don’t know, but I hope we soon find out. It’s possible that Spencer could have done it, paid someone to do it, or fixed someone’s car or truck after he or she used it to push Conkwright’s car into the drink. I wish we knew if his wife and Conkwright were locked in the freezer before or after Spencer got there.”

  “Yeah, I’d love to know when Spencer first knew or suspected that his wife was dead. Somehow I don’t think he was telling us the truth.”

  We paused again from exercising our brains and lifted out our dessert. What used to be two pieces of pie each had transformed into two little green apples, one each. Rather than accost suspect number three with apple juice all over our chins, I returned to Lightning and extracted enough paper towels to make both of us look presentable.

  I noticed Lou was looking at me, so I took a moment for levity and acted out some of the steps from the Wii Fit exercise, as well as a hula hoop rendition or two. I regained my senses when I attempted to do the tree exercise from the yoga workout, and almost fell and made a calculation on the Richter Scale. Lou applauded my two successes and laughed when I almost fell.

  I knew that it was time to leave, time to interrogate our next suspect.

  +++

  Lightning seemed to know where she was going, but evidently not. A couple of minutes later, we hit a dead end. There wasn’t a house or mailbox anywhere. I looked at Lou. Both of us were stumped. I looked at the address again. Supposedly, Earl Spickard lived somewhere on this road, but when I asked Lou if we passed any houses or mailboxes on our way there, he said “no.” There was nothing to do except backtrack. I drove even slower this time. Lou checked the right side of the road. I checked the left. Before I knew it, we were back at Spencer’s place. I had no choice but to turn in.

  “Somethin’ else on your mind, Lieutenant?”

  “I’m having trouble finding Earl Spickard’s place.”

  Spencer laughed.

  “It’s sorta hard to find. There ain’t no drive that goes back to it. Jist go to the end of the road, park whatever that thing is you’re drivin’, then head through the trees on the right. ’ventually, you’ll get there.”

  I thanked Spencer again and we left.

  I did as Duck Spencer told me. I pulled over at the dead end. Lou and I got out, saw where there was enough of a break in the trees to allow us to walk down an unmarked path, and we walked in that direction. We were about to give up when Lou spotted what looked like a cabin in the distance. It looked lived in, but we saw no car or truck anywhere. I knocked and we waited for someone to answer. The whole thing didn’t look like more than one large room, so I doubted if it would take Spickard long to answer the knock. When no one answered, I knocked again. Still no answer.

  “Let’s try out back.”

  When still we hadn’t located anyone, I did what I was taught to do in the country. I hollered.

  “Anybody home!”

  “Down here!” came a call from the distance.

  Lou and I did our best to gauge from where the response came and took off in that direction. A minute or so later, we located an older man, fishing. His hair was turning white, as was the stubble on his face, which told me he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.

  “You Earl Spickard?”

  “Yep. Who might you be?”

  “Well, I might be just about anyone, but I’m Lt. Dekker of the Hilldale Police Department and this is Sgt. Murdock.”

  Spickard started to laugh at my first statement, then stopped when he found out we were the police. He looked puzzled.

  “I’m trying to read that look on your face.”

  “Oh, that. It’s jist that I’m s’prised to see you for a coupla reasons.”

  “Oh, why’s that?”

  “Well, I’m s’prised anybody from the police department can find this place, plus I can’t imagine why the police would come callin’ on me.”

  I decided to be honest with him.

  “Well, I have to admit, I did need some help finding you. As to why we’re here, we have some questions about the night you took Duck Spencer to the high school.”

  “Didn’t nothin’ happen to Duck, did it? I would’ve been happy to bring him home, too.”

  “No, nothing happened to him. As a matter of fact, he’s the one who told me how to find you. I couldn’t find you the first time I tried.”

  Spickard laughed again.

  “My place is hard to find. I like it that way.”

  “So, where’s your mailbox?”

  “It’s up there some place. The mailman knows where it’s at. Don’t get much mail no how, so havin’ the thang is a wasta time.”

  “So, tell me about what you did that night.”

  “Everthang, or jist the part where I took Duck?”

  “I don’t care about what you did before he got here. Just start with when he knocked on your door.”

  “Well, he comes a runnin’ up toward the house. I sees him comin’ and heered him, too. He was out o’ breath. I says, ‘What’s wrong, Duck? Somethin’ wrong with Betty Gail. Betty Gail’s Duck’s wife.”

  “He says, ‘Yeah, thare’s a lot wrong with Betty Gail. She’s at that high school reunion with that no good Jimmy Conkwright.”

  “And did you know Jimmy Conkwright?”

  I noticed that Spickard’s demeanor changed.

  “You bet I knowed him. He was a mean son of gun, only stayed outa jail ’cause of his rich daddy.”

  “How did you know him?”

  “See, I useta be the janitor at that school ’til I retired. He went to school thare when I was thare. I didn’t know mosta them by name, but I knowed him. I was hopin’ he’d do somethin’ so they could put him away.”

  “From what I understand, he might have. Did you know Miriam Van Meter?”

  “Can’t say that that name rings a bell.”

  “She was the one who was killed when Conkwright was driving drunk one night.”

  Spickard tried to wipe his tear before I could catch him. No such luck.

  “No, I never knowed no one by that name. I remember about him killin’ some girl, though. His daddy got him off from that, too. If’n I remember right, she was jist a freshman. Too young to know to stay away from the likesa him.”

  “It seems that way. Let’s get back to the night of the reunion. Why did Duck Spencer tell you he needed a ride?”

  “Well, we’d had a storm out this way earlier. Duck said a tree blowed over and blocked the road. Said he couldn’t git through that way.”

  “And he knew you had a boat?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So, you offered to take him to the school.”

  “Seems like you already knowed everthang.”

  “Just a little bit. What did Spencer have to say on the way up the river?”

  “Not a lot. I could tell he was in a h
urry to git to the school, said somethin’ about teachin’ her a lesson. I didn’t know at the time what he meant, but I did later.”

  “Oh, what did he mean?”

  “Well, I don’t know this for gospel, but I think Duck took her truck. I jist knowed he didn’t need me to brang him home. I wondered how she’d act when she walked out and found out that her truck was gone. I still don’t know. I’ll have to go down sometime and ask Duck.”

  “So, pick up where you left off and tell me what happened when you got to school.”

  “Well, jist as soon as we hit the bank, ol’ Duck hopped outa the boat and took off runnin’ for the school. He was already inside when I got thare.”

  “So, you went in the school, too?”

  “Yep, like I said, I used to be the janitor there, and the last year I was thare the man who’s janitor now started workin’ thare. We became good friends. Very good friends. If either of us needed somthin’ the other one would hep him anyway he could.”

  “You’re talking about Walter Gillis.”

  “That’s right. I walked in the door and there was Duck standin’ and talkin’ to some people. I’m not shore who all, but I thank they was people who went to school thare when I was thare. I recognized faces, but not too many names. Anyways, I knowed my way around, so I walked in the door, looked in at the place that they called my office when I was thare, and seen Walter wudden in there, so I went on down to use the facilities. I ran into Walter in thare. He was in one stall. I was in another. We come out at the same time, seen who each other was, and patted each other on the back. He was so glad to see me. It’d been a few weeks since we seen each other. Anyway, we walked outa the restroom, passed the others, who was about to go stompin’ off somewhere, and went into Walter’s office. The two of us set thare a while talkin’, and I got to itchin’ to see the old home place again, so we git up and walked through the school. Walter checked with some lady afore we took off to make sure everthang was okay.”

  “Would you know Jimmy Conkwright if you saw him?”

  “I’m not shore. I ’spect so. If so, I never laid eyes on him that night, but I heered he was thare.”

  “What about Betty Gail Spencer?”

  “I never seen her neither, but I knowed her. I thank Duck’s right. The last time I seen her she seemed like a different person.”

  “In what way?”

  “Kinda wild like.”

  “How many times did you see Duck Spencer after you got to the school?”

  “Jist once that I can recollect. He stopped by, leaned in the office and told me he didn’t need a ride home. He smiled as he said it. I said, ‘Are you shore?’ and he said, ‘Oh, yeah, as long as the truck starts.’ It weren’t long after that that I up and left. I really enjoyed spendin’ some time with my friend Walter. He made me promise that I’d git back to see him sometime soon.”

  “Did you see anyone out in the hall while you were at the school?”

  “I didn’t pay no ’tention to that, but yeah, I guess I seen some of ’em. They were all hepped up to find Duck’s woman.”

  “When you saw them, were they alone or with someone?”

  “Is there somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me, Lieutenant?”

  “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”

  “Same answer. Some of ’em was by theirselves.”

  “Mr. Spickard, Betty Gail Spencer was murdered at the school that night.”

  “You don’t say. Well, I’d say your man is that good for nothin’ Jimmy Conkwright. You probably won’t need to look no farther.”

  “I think we will.”

  “Oh, why’s that? Did he buy hisself one a them alibis?”

  “You might say that. See, he was murdered, too.”

  “You don’t say. Well, that’s the best news I heered in a long time. When you find out who done it, maybe we can have a parade for the guy.”

  “It looks like I’m going to have to look a little longer to find someone who’s grieving about poor Jimmy Conkwright.”

  “No, Lieutenant, I think you’re gonna hafta look a lot longer. I never met nobody who didn’t hate his guts.”

  “What about Betty Gail Spencer? Did people hate her guts, too?”

  “I don’t know ’bout her, but I’d say that most people’d jist say that all she needed was a good butt whippin’. Duck woulda never done that, though. He worshiped the ground she walked on. Course, he was mighty put out with her that night. Too bad she got mixed up with that good for nothin’ Conkwright agin, ’though unless she’d seen him somewhere and Duck didn’t know nothin’ about it, she got messed up afore she seen that good for nothin’ agin. I don’t know what got into her.”

  “Mr. Spickard, does the name Jennifer Garner mean anything to you.”

  “Nope. Is she s’posed to live out this way somewheres?”

  “I’m not sure. Her name just came up in our investigation.”

  “Well, lack I told you afore, I pretty much keep to myself. Sometimes, the only time I see someone is when I go to town to pick up things I need. Course I do see Duck once a month or so. He comes by to check on me, make shore I’s doin’ all right. Sometimes he picks up what I need, saves me a trip. Other than him, not too many people live out this way. I like it like that.”

  I thanked Earl Spickard for his time, and he told me to come back anytime and we’d see if the fish were biting.

  “I’m usually here some place.”

  I thanked him again, and Lou and I turned to head back to civilization. We only hoped Lightning hadn’t gotten tired and left without us.

  Chapter Twelve

  We got back to Lightning and took inventory of where we were. So far we’d talked with Walter Gillis, the current janitor at the county high school; Rose Ellen Calvert, the woman who coordinated the high school reunion; Duck Spencer, the murdered woman’s husband; and Earl Spickard, the retired janitor. For sure, I planned to talk to Jim Bob Gibbons, Billy and April Korlein, and George and Sandy Justice, to get their take on who was where and when that night. If only someone would confess, or all but one person would agree on what went on.

  I looked at my watch and was surprised it was already after 4:30. While everyone who attended the county high school lived out in the country when they were in high school, only one of my remaining suspects still lived in the country. That one was Jim Bob Gibbons. From what I could tell, he was closer to Jimmy Conkwright than any of the others. I wondered if his take on that night would agree with what the others had to say. It wouldn’t take me long to find out. While Gibbons still lived out in the country, he lived in a different part of the county. I hoped that by the time I got to his house, he’d be home from work.

  +++

  I found Gibbons house easier than I found the old man’s. It was a small, red brick, and it looked like he might have had a couple of acres of land surrounding it. I pulled into the drive, got out and went up and knocked, but no one answered. I was contemplating what to do when a four by four pulled into the driveway. Out jumped a man nearing forty, which was the right age for Gibbons. He had on jeans, an Army green T-shirt, and boots. He was slender, sandy-haired, and clean shaven.

  “This is private property. What do you want?”

  “You Jim Bob Gibbons?”

  “You got cop written all over you, even though you’re drivin’ some kind of sissy car. Listen, I don’t care what she says. I didn’t touch that woman.”

  “Which woman is that?”

  “Emma Mae Parsons. Ain’t that what you’re a ’ere about?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “So, you ain’t no cop?”

  “No, I’m a cop, all right. I’m Lt. Dekker. This is Sgt. Murdock. We’d like to ask you a few questions. This is if you’re Jim Bob Gibbons.”

  “What’s this all ’bout?”

  “Are you Jim Bob Gibbons?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m Jim Bob. Now, what’s all this ’bout?”

  “It’s about the night of the hig
h school reunion.”

  When I said that, Gibbons seemed to relax.

  “Oh, is that all? What ’appened? Did Jimmy Conkwright go and git ’isself in a buncha trouble? Surely, ’e’s not tryin’ to git me to bail his sorry you know what outa jail. ’e’s got more money than Carter’s got liver pills.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “You kiddin’ me. Jimmy lost all ’is money. ’e didn’t say nothin’ about it that night. What ’appened?”

  “Is there some place we can sit down and talk about this?”

  “I guess we could go out back. I call it my patio. Actually, it’s three or four chairs in the grass and a barbecue.”

  Gibbons stretched out his pronunciation of patio and barbecue.

  I noticed that he had a considerable limp as he led us around the house to the back. We each took a seat, choosing three of the four metal chairs that looked like they were nearing antique status. Gibbons grimaced and used his arms to take most of his weight as he sat down.

  “So, Mr. Gibbons, tell me about what all happened that night. Did you participate when everyone toured the school before the dinner?”

  “No, you mighta noticed I got me a limp. It ’urts mosta the time, but it really ’urts if’n I try to go up or down steps. As ya can see, I ain’t got no steps here. But that night, I got thare a few minutes afore 7:00, afore we ate.”

  “Was Jimmy Conkwright there when you got there?”

  “No, but Jimmy got there not long after that. ’e was thare when it come time to go through the food line.”

  “So, tell me about what went on that night?”

  “Well, there ain’t much to tell. It was our twenty year reunion. There ain’t many a us, and mosta us still live ’round here, but Jimmy ’ad moved away. It was good to see ’im agin. ’e was kind of feelin’ ’is oats that night. I ’ad to calm ’im down a mite.”

  “How was he feeling his oats?”

  “Well, you know ’ow some people act when they see some old friends. ’e was a little on the rowdy side.”