Deadly Diaries

by C. E. Waterman

  David held out a card, signaling the interview’s end. “Let me know if you think of anything.”

  Jonathan slipped it in his shirt pocket. “Sure thing.”

  They questioned a few more people, but no one had anything more to add. Kurt and the framing crew saw Mike enter the Linden, just as he’d said, but when David and Greg checked, they discovered it had a walkout basement.

  As they walked out to their vehicles, David stopped. “If you’re going soft on your friends, maybe I should ask the questions.”

  Greg stopped as well. “Who do you mean?”

  “Mike. He could have left the house without using the front door.”

  “He would have been spotted. He’d have to cross the street right in front of the framers.”

  “He wasn’t where he said he was the day Esther was killed.”

  “I don’t know about that. Charlie didn’t see him, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t here.”

  “You just don’t want him to be guilty.”

  “It’s too soon to tell who’s guilty, and there’s no reason to alienate a witness. They’ll provide more information if you don’t give them a reason to be afraid.”

  David snorted. “Oh, come on. He’s hiding something, and I plan to get him to spill it.”

  “You can’t bully information out of everyone, David. Some people don’t respond to threats; they shut down. If they’re guilty, they’ll not tell you, and if they’re innocent, they’ll be afraid you’ll twist their words, and they’ll watch what they say.” He started walking, heading for his truck. “I want everyone to feel free to tell me whatever they want to at first, and then we’ll get tough if we have a reason.”

  David caught up and smiled like a carnivore. “Ah, let them assume they’re safe and then snap the trap shut. Right?”

  Greg exhaled. “Something like that.”

  12

  Maggie arrived at the gate of the Tate mansion at nine thirty. After admiring the stunning stone and ironwork, she leaned out of her car window and pressed the buzzer.

  A tinny voice emanated from the box. “May I help you?”

  “Maggie Schreiber to see Mrs. Tate.”

  “Please follow the driveway,” the voice said, and the gate swung back on oiled hinges. A blanket of green grass spread beyond like a moat protecting the castle.

  She kept her window down as she drove in, breathing in the scent of rose bushes blooming along the driveway on either side. Not a weed in sight. As if a weed would dare poke its ugly head up into one of Larry’s gardens. As she slid out of her car, Larry stood up from the bush he was trimming and threw up a hand. She waved back, wondering how long the elder gentleman would be able to handle an estate this large. Although he had help, it must be a lot of work to keep the place up to Monica Tate’s standards.

  Maggie strolled along the flagstone walkway to the front door and rang the bell, not quite knowing what to expect. Being summoned to Monica Tate’s was no small matter. Even though Aunt Esther and Monica had been good friends for years, Maggie had never been invited to her house.

  Lucinda, Mrs. Tate’s maid, opened the door with a smile. “Miss Maggie, Mrs. Tate is expecting you. May I show you to the salon?” Of course, Monica was expecting her. How many people declined a summons from Monica Tate? Though it had been couched like a request, everyone knew one didn’t refuse her.

  And Maggie hadn’t wanted to. Did Monica know who pushed Allie? Maybe even who killed Aunt Esther? If so, why hadn’t she told the police?

  Realizing she hadn’t answered Lucinda, Maggie nodded. She clicked into full-awareness mode, taking in as much of her surroundings as possible. She might never get another chance to see this place. She tipped her head back. A massive chandelier glittered above the grand, two-story entry. A round table, so large it wouldn’t fit in her entire kitchen, supported a bouquet of fresh flowers in a sparkling crystal vase. The marble floor beneath her feet shone.

  Lucinda allowed her a minute to ogle and then led her off to the right into the salon. Her uniform crackled as she moved. She was dressed in the standard pink all the staff wore, but she’d accessorized it with a scarf in a calming mix of blues and greens.

  “Lucinda, what a beautiful scarf.”

  Lucinda led her past a curving staircase and into a soft green room with white furniture and dark hardwood floors. “Thank you, Miss Maggie. It’s my favorite. Can I get you some iced tea or lemonade?”

  After settling her with a glass of tea, Lucinda went in search of her employer.

  Maggie barely waited for her to leave the room before popping up to explore. She’d heard about the treasures in this house; artwork and statuary collected over generations were rumored to be everywhere. If this room was a sample of the rest of the house, the gossip was true. She tiptoed over to a Monet on the far wall, the colors blending beautifully with the room. She wondered who had chosen it and who had decorated around it.

  Monica seemed to glide into the room, startling her. Must be what good breeding does for one. It allows the ability to sneak up on people.

  “Maggie, thank you for coming. Please have a seat. I knew I could count on you.”

  “Count on me for what, Mrs. Tate?”

  “Monica. You must call me Monica.”

  Uh oh, this must be serious. Maggie moved to the sofa and perched on the edge. “Monica, then. How can I help you?”

  Monica lowered herself into a side chair next to a table holding a genuine Tiffany lamp. “Actually, it’s I who wants to help you.”

  Maggie tried to hide her surprise. “Help me? How?”

  “It’s this horrible killer. He must be stopped. We can’t let him get away with Esther’s murder, and I know she would want me to do something about her niece being hurt.”

  “Shouldn’t we leave it to the police?” Maggie didn’t see anywhere to put her glass, so she held on to it, resting it on her knee.

  Monica reached into a drawer in the table next to her and retrieved a coaster. “Here you go, dear. Rest it on this.” She waited until Maggie had her glass resting on the coaster, and then continued, “I know your fiancé is very smart, but he and his friends have so much to do. I figure we can do some of the legwork and give it to them to do the rough stuff. How does that sound?”

  Her tone was more than friendly; as if they were co-conspirators. Maggie felt drawn in, even though she had no illusions about Monica Tate and her becoming best buds. She cleared her throat. “Do you have any idea who killed Aunt Esther or hurt Allie?”

  “Who are the police considering?” Monica answered with a question.

  Was this a ploy to get information? Maggie considered not telling her. But it wasn’t a secret, and it might help to find Cameron and Grady if more people knew. “Right now, they’re looking for Cameron Hayes and his brother, Grady.”

  Monica tapped the arm of her chair. “We don’t want to cover the same ground...”

  When Monica’s voice drifted off, Maggie leaned forward. “Do you have someone else in mind?”

  “I told your fiancé about this, but he didn’t take me seriously. I want to look at her maid.”

  “Maria? You think Maria killed her? What makes you say that?”

  “She’s always been so forward, and I know Esther, bless her heart, was too good to notice. I wonder if there are other things she missed.”

  “Like what?”

  “Have you checked Esther’s finances? Maybe she was stealing.”

  A lump formed in Maggie’s throat. If Monica convinced her friends that Maria had been dishonest, she could damage her livelihood.

  “My aunt never said anything, and I’m sure Maria would never steal from her.”

  Monica raised one eyebrow.

  Maggie lowered her eyes and kept her voice steady. “I’ve gone over a few things with her lawyer, but I haven’t had time to visit with her accountant yet.”

  Mrs. Tate—Maggie couldn’t pretend she was anything but Mrs. Tate now—pursed her lips. “Hmm, her acc
ountant would have noticed if either the maid or the gardener were stealing, wouldn’t he?”

  Now it was the gardener? This didn’t sound good. Anyone without a pedigree would be targeted. Maggie picked an imaginary piece of lint off her white cotton skirt. “I believe they’ve both been cleared.”

  Mrs. Tate stood and paced, jiggling her wrist until her diamond watch fell into place. “What kind of work has she had done lately? Have there been any workers in the house?”

  Time to end this line of questioning. “I don’t know, but a visit to her accountant may be a good idea. I’ll make an appointment.”

  Mrs. Tate nodded once as if this plan would solve everything, walked over, and put her hand out, signaling the meeting was over.

  Good thing Maggie didn’t have anything she wanted to discuss. She rose and shook the outstretched hand, making the appropriate comments, hoping her face didn’t show her disgust over being sent to do a hatchet job on Monica Tate’s supposed inferiors.

  Lucinda appeared in the hallway. “I’ll show you out, Miss Maggie.”

  Maggie forced herself to smile. Lucinda led her to the front door and turned. “Maria would never hurt Esther,” she whispered. “She loved her.” Her face was passive, but her snapping brown eyes glowed dark. “Mrs. Tate thinks staff must never be allowed to forget their place, but staff aren’t the ones with secrets.”

  Maggie paused. “Can we meet somewhere and talk?”

  “What about?” Lucinda opened the ornate door and held the screen.

  Maggie kept her voice low and inched by. “Whatever secrets you know or have heard that might help me clear Maria and Joe.”

  Lucinda stepped out on the porch for a moment, still holding the screen. “I don’t know anything, and if I did, I couldn’t say. Mrs. Tate would dismiss me for even talking to you. I only wanted you to know Maria didn’t kill Mrs. Campbell.”

  “I’d still like to talk to you.”

  She backed into the house, closed the screen, and spoke through it. “I can’t. I don’t want any trouble.” She closed the heavy main door, and a decisive click confirmed the bolt slid home.

  Why did she have the feeling Lucinda knew more than she was telling? Maggie walked down the path to her car. How could she get her to open up without sacrificing her job? Maggie knew Monica Tate. If one of her staff was let go, no one would hire them. In her circle, it was an unwritten rule you didn’t poach another’s employee, even after they weren’t in their employ anymore. And the people capable of hiring Lucinda would be in Monica’s circle. She shook her head as she got into her car. There would have to be another way to find the killer. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Lucinda’s future... She couldn’t.

  ~*~

  Greg hung up the phone, smiling. In this rare moment, most of the detectives were at the precinct. A sponge ball hit him in the side of the head, and he turned to see who threw it. Six desks were set up in a grid, two wide, in the middle of a large open space. Offices and interview rooms lined the back wall, and the squad room and kitchen were set off to one side.

  Mark sat at the back corner of the grid, grinning. “A call from the girlfriend, huh?”

  “Maybe it’s none of your business.” Greg leaned over and, in one motion, scooped the ball up, and hurled it back, missing by a mile.

  “It’s not hard to tell. Every time she calls, you hang up grinning like an idiot.”

  David piped up from behind. “Yeah, it’s kind of degrading how you drool after her like a puppy.”

  “If you had a girl like her, wouldn’t you do a little drooling?” Peter joked. “You’re just jealous ’cause you don’t have a hot chick like us.”

  David laughed. “Who says? Mine just aren’t permanent. I can date as many hot chicks as I like.”

  Greg waved his hand. “OK, enough. Anyway, it was about the case. Apparently, Maggie went to see Monica Tate today.”

  “Wow, you’re coming up in the world, buddy,” Mark said. “Your girlfriend is on visiting terms with the elite?”

  “Yeah, but it was just to accuse Esther’s maid and gardener again. Maggie was peeved.”

  David sat back in his chair and glowered. “I checked them out. They’re both clean. They were at their other employers, and there are witnesses.”

  “Yeah, I know, but Mrs. Tate wants them to be guilty.”

  “I wonder why?” Mark said. “Does she have a reason?”

  David snorted. “You mean other than she considers them second-rate?”

  “She does, for sure.” Greg swiveled around, facing David. “And Joe has a criminal record, which doesn’t help matters.”

  “It was thirty years ago. He was in his twenties then, and he drove the getaway car for his friends. It’s not like he physically hurt someone. He did his time, and he’s been a model citizen since.” David’s voice had raised. He cleared his throat.

  “Wow, what has you all worked up?” Mark asked.

  David opened his drawer and chose a pen. “Nothing. It makes me mad when people won’t let something die. How long does it take for him to be rid of some foolish thing he did in his past?”

  “We agree,” Greg interjected. “Do you know Joe well?”

  David rolled the pen in his fingers, staring at it. “Yeah. He used to let me help him when I was a kid. He’d pay me to mow or trim. Wasn’t much, but it helped put food on the table sometimes.”

  Greg nodded. He’d forgotten David had been brought up by a single mom, and it was hard for them. Maybe it was why he had such a rough edge with people he thought hadn’t earned their way. Time to change the subject. “So, let’s go over what we have.” He rose, walked to the white board, and started writing. “We’re assuming the same person who pushed Allie also killed Esther, right?”

  David picked up the file from his desk and stood with him. He laid the file on a nearby table and flipped it open. “Yeah. It’s possible they aren’t connected but not probable.”

  Greg plucked a blue marker from the tray. “Our list of suspects for Esther’s murder includes the boyfriend, Cameron Hayes, his brother, Grady Hayes, and their accomplices. For Allie’s assault, several guys at the jobsite including Mike Travis, Charlie Parker, and Jonathan Blake fit Maggie’s description.” He jotted the names on the board. “Am I missing anyone?”

  David pulled his notebook out. “I still need to check on a couple guys at the jobsite who were alone when Allie was pushed. I put them lower on the list because they didn’t have a connection to Esther or Allie.”

  Greg labeled the column of names Suspects. Next to it, he started a new column with Esther and one for Allie. Above that, he wrote Alibis. “We can’t find Cameron or Grady, which in itself is suspicious. Why disappear if you’re innocent?” He left the spaces next to their names blank.

  David consulted his notes. “Charlie was picking up some stain at the hardware store in Lafayette when Allie was pushed. We have the receipt. But he doesn’t have an alibi for the time Esther died.”

  Greg made a checkmark in Allie’s column next to his name. “What about Mike?”

  “He claims he was at work during Esther’s murder, but Charlie says he left.”

  Greg left both spaces blank. “We have more blanks than checkmarks.”

  David refocused on his notes. “Jonathan was playing tennis at the club when Esther was killed—some kind of grudge match, so there were quite a few spectators. But no one knows where he was when Allie was pushed.”

  Greg put a checkmark in Esther’s column but left Allie’s blank. “OK, those are the people we know about. This doesn’t include the people in the burglary ring that we don’t know about. Other than Cameron and Grady, we don’t have any burglary suspects yet, but we will. Someone will make a mistake and get caught. Then we’ll have a few more names to add to our board.”

  David closed his file. “Cameron and Grady Hayes seem to be our best choices at the moment. We need to concentrate on finding them. And we need to investigate Mike.”

  13r />
  The business phone rang three times before Maggie could reach it. She snatched it off the base but not before Allie reached it first. Assuming the call was for her, Maggie stayed on the line.

  “You know I didn’t kill your aunt. And I would never push you down the stairs or whatever they said I did. How could you think I would hurt you?” The screamer who’d called Maggie the night of Esther’s death was now pleading with Allie.

  “If you yell at me I’ll hang up, and I won’t answer again.”

  Good for Allie.

  “I’m sorry. I won’t yell. But have I ever hurt you?”

  “No, but maybe it was your brother.”

  “It wasn’t. I’m telling you, I don’t know who pushed you, but it wasn’t me or Grady. Meet me somewhere we can talk. Please? I need to know you’re OK and you trust me. Just for coffee. And maybe those donuts you like.”

  Allie hesitated, and Maggie wanted to scream into the phone. No! Don’t do it! But she waited to see what Allie would say.

  “Come on,” he wheedled. “You know you want to.”

  “I don’t know,” she sighed. “Maggie’s here, and she won’t want me to go.”

  She wasn’t kidding. Maggie wanted to tell her there was no way she was going anywhere with that creep, but she held her tongue.

  “So? Do you always do what you’re told? What do you care what she wants?”

  Again, it was all Maggie could do not to scream at the little twerp. But she wanted Allie to tell him herself.

  “I’ll think about it,” Allie said.

  “Are you coming or not?” He clipped the words out in a testy tone.

  “I don’t know! Stop badgering me. If you see me, then I decided to come. If not, then don’t call me anymore.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re not—”

  Allie hung up.

  Maggie hit End on the phone and nestled it back on the stand. She needed to talk to Allie. To make sure she didn’t go anywhere with Cameron alone. She’d love to tell Greg where to pick him up while he waited for Allie, but he never said where they would meet. Must be a place they’d been before... Somewhere with donuts. Not helpful, since the town boasted several donut shops.