An Ear for Murder

by Diane Weiner

  “As much as I love frozen dinners, I’ll pass, but you go ahead.”

  “Okay, your loss.”

  “Your mom is an Italian super cook. How can you stand that?”

  “You get used to frozen dinners when you live alone. I’ve seen your kitchen. I know you don’t cook, so what do you live on?”

  “Mostly takeout. Lots of pizza.”

  “Ellie has a bottle of wine in the fridge. Want some?” She took his nod as a yes, and tried opening the wine. “I need a cork screw.” She searched through the kitchen drawers. “If she has wine, she has to have a cork screw.”

  “Let’s take a look.” Travis searched the remaining drawers.

  “I saw a box of kitchen stuff out in the garage. Looks like she had too much to fit in the kitchen. Ellie always loved cooking and bought every gadget on the market.”

  “Garage it is. Come on.”

  She followed Travis through the kitchen door into the garage. “Maybe in one of the boxes above the washer and dryer?” She grabbed a step stool and tried to peek inside.

  “Just hand it to me. It’ll be easier to see down here.”

  When they had a handful of boxes on the floor, they opened them. “This is a box of high school memorabilia. Yearbooks, track medals…here’s a photo of you and Ellie!”

  “Let me see that.” She held the picture in her hand, remembering the day vividly. They’d taken their last final exam and posed for silly pictures in front of the school with two of their friends. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t think anyone would mind if I keep this. I’ll take the rest to her parents. I wonder if they plan on selling the house now that Ellie doesn’t need it.”

  “Maybe they’d rent it to you—if you wind up staying, I mean.”

  “Maybe.” We’d be neighbors. If I don’t get over this stupid crush that’s brewing it’ll be hard watching him bring dates to his house. Besides, his behavior is hot and cold. I can’t deal with that sort of stress with all that’s on my plate.

  “Here. I actually found a cork screw under the Magic Bullet and Slice’o’Matic.”

  “Let me do the honors.” She followed him into the kitchen where he deftly managed to open the bottle. “What about wine glasses?”

  “I’ll bet they’re up there in the cabinet over the sink I can’t reach.” She pulled over a kitchen chair and climbed up.

  “Careful there.” He wrapped his hands around her waist, steadying her. An involuntary tingle ran through her body. Stop acting like a silly school girl. She took a breath, found the glasses, and stepped down. She caught a whiff of his Irish Spring.

  “While you were away, I researched the boating accident that Hunter Griffith mentioned. Had you heard about it, before we ran into him at the mall?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Why didn’t you mention it before?”

  “It wasn’t relevant. Frankly, I hadn’t even thought about it until we ran into him.”

  “Hunter Griffith was convinced it was Ellie’s fault. I found out he threatened her in court and did you know Ellie’s car was vandalized?”

  “You think Hunter Griffith killed Ellie?”

  “Did she ever say she thought he was after her? It would explain the safe room and new alarm system.”

  “She was scared of someone. I asked her about it when I saw her outside the next morning. She said it was nothing.”

  “We knew Hunter from high school. He was a strange bird. During senior year he was Baker-acted, taken to a mental ward without his consent because he threatened to kill himself. That’s what we got from the rumor mill. Later we heard he was diagnosed bi-polar.”

  “Bi-polar doesn’t mean violent, even if he was off his meds. I’m not saying he wasn’t an angry father who flipped out and wanted revenge, just that it can’t be blamed on that diagnosis.”

  “Phil didn’t think he was involved. Wouldn’t even check on an alibi for Hunter for the night of Ellie’s murder.”

  “Since they have so few leads, I don’t know why he wouldn’t check it out. Of course, he may have already done so. He’s under no obligation to disclose police business to you. Are you ready to eat? The pizza’s getting cold.”

  As they ate, Sara tried to think of a way to verify Hunter’s alibi, but was at a loss. Was she bold enough to ask him outright? Travis seemed to read her thoughts.

  “Without police help, the best we can do is maybe ask the neighbors if they saw anything that night. It was months ago, however. And the police must have thought to interview neighbors.”

  “It won’t hurt. I’ve met the lady next door, but that’s about it. You?”

  “I’ve at least said hello to everyone on our street. We can go for a walk tomorrow and try. Now, let’s finish dinner. Want to watch a movie?”

  “Sure, why not. Drama, mystery, or romantic comedy?”

  “Rom-com? Seriously? I vote for mystery.”

  “How are your parents liking North Carolina?”

  “I haven’t spoken to them in a while. They’ve been traveling. They’ve gotten into cruising.”

  “Why haven’t you talked to them? Did you have a falling out?” She knew she was being too nosy and didn’t expect an answer.

  “No, we just haven’t talked. It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned up the volume on the TV. “Got anything to go with the pizza?”

  “Pause the movie. I have an idea. Come on.” He followed her into the kitchen. “I know I saw some somewhere. Here! Popcorn kernels. Wasn’t there a popper in that box where we found the cork screw?”

  “You’re right. Why don’t you start a fire and I’ll get it?” She came back with the popper but it was missing the plug. Maybe it’s still in the drawers? She grabbed another slice of pizza while she searched. There has to be a corn popper plug somewhere in here. “Got it.”

  Travis had started a fire and turned off the living room lights. When Sara came in toting a bowl of popcorn, Panther was snuggled next to Travis on the sofa.

  “Unpause?”

  “Sure.” She handed him the remote. Travis covered her hand with his.

  I know the fire is making it warm, but so is being so close to Travis. The hair on her arms stood up and she had all she could do to stop herself from turning around and embracing him. Stop. He doesn’t want this and you shouldn’t either. Self-control gone, she turned to him.

  Travis’s arms tightened around her. She felt her heart beating faster. He looked into her eyes, then moved his mouth closer to hers. Their lips touched. She’d never felt this kind of chemistry with Brandon or anyone else for that matter. She melted into his embrace and he kissed her. He had to have felt the spark.

  Travis pushed away with a sudden jerk. “No, I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I should go.”

  The fire crackled. Letting go of the moment was difficult. “If that’s how you feel.”

  “It’s not…I mean…”

  “You don’t have to explain.” She stood up and flicked on the lights. “Thanks for the pizza.”

  Travis put on his coat. “I wish…Anyway. Do you want to take that walk tomorrow and see if we can find anyone who saw Hunter the night of the murder?”

  She was disappointed as well as hurt. If she said no, she might be cutting out an opportunity to gather more information. Can I risk putting my feelings on the line to help my best friend? There’s not a real choice here.

  “Sure. I’m helping at the shop tomorrow. I’ll be home dinner-time.” She closed the door behind him, resisting the urge to slam it. What was his problem? He seemed to be attracted to her, but maybe he wasn’t. Did the interracial aspect bother him? Was he still involved with Cameron? Or married like Grandpa suggested? She scooped up Panther and went to bed. I should have known better and not allowed myself to be vulnerable. Again.

  Chapter 28

  The next morning, Sara bolted upright in bed, terrified. In her sleep, she’d been falling—rolling down a rocky hill. She was dragged into a thick forest, cal
ling for help, but no one came. She fell into a hole. Down, down, darker and darker, no handsome prince rescuing her. It’s a message. No one will rescue me. I have to rescue myself.

  Sara resisted the urge to look out the window at Travis’s driveway. I don’t care if he’s home or not. I won’t let my emotions be held hostage. She guzzled down two cups of coffee, then put together her oboe.

  It almost felt foreign in her hands. She’d been used to playing hours a day and now she’d barely touched it since arriving in Hudsonville. She popped a reed into her mouth to moisten it and rummaged through her Barret Etudes. Here goes nothing.

  The reed she’d soaked sounded horrible. Instead of trying to scrape it into shape, she threw it against the wall. Lacking the patience to try another one, she got dressed and headed to the shop. On the way, she went into the bakery and picked up a dozen donuts, wishing there was a drive-thru like there was back home.

  Her impulse was to stuff down her feelings about Travis by gobbling down a few in the car, but she arrived at the shop with a full dozen. Maybe I have more self-control than I thought. After I broke up with Brandon, I gained five pounds. Her father and Grandpa were already working when she entered the chilly shop.

  “Grandpa, how was the card party?”

  “A lot of fun. We’re going to make it a weekly thing. Gail has a few more friends she’d like to include. She even mentioned starting a club of sorts that gets together by day to do activities. Transportation is a problem, though. Most folks our age around here don’t drive anymore, especially when the weather gets bad.”

  “Too bad Hudsonville doesn’t have public transportation.”

  “You mean like your silly cable cars back home?”

  Ignoring the comment, Sara started working on the oboe she was making. “Grandpa, did you come up with anything regarding the code we found?”

  “I see the name Rosie, but I don’t understand what the other letters mean. I’ll keep working on it.”

  “Maybe he meant a rosewood oboe,” said her father. “We basically ruled out the idea of him having a girlfriend.”

  “If so, maybe he was planning on making a rosewood oboe, using the proportions of the numbers, somehow transposed. We need to look at the remaining letters.” Sara continued working.

  “Sara, what’s on the symphony programs this spring?”

  Her throat tightened. “Beethoven Symphony #3, Daphnis and Chloe, A couple of concertos. The usual fare.”

  “Maybe Mom and I can come out for a concert this spring.” He glanced at Grandpa. “If everything is well.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter. If you don’t go out to visit Sara, don’t go blaming me.”

  “Dad, thanks for your optimism. Grandpa, you should come, too. Cable cars aside, you like San Francisco. Remember that restaurant in Chinatown you loved?”

  “Now that’s incentive, but I won’t be much good going up and down those hills with this hip.”

  “Pops, you should have that replacement surgery soon. You could be up and around before spring hits.”

  “And you can even invite Gail to come along,” said Sara. It would be kinda neat having my old music teacher in the audience. Then she remembered. There was a good chance she’d still be on leave this spring. Unless things dramatically improved, she was out through May.

  Sara’s phone vibrated. She put the work in progress on the desk and answered.

  “Hi, Camaya. Yeah. Yes, they said her prints were on the beer bottle. The day before? I’ll let the detective know. Thanks.”

  “Who was that?” asked Grandpa.

  “Ellie’s co-worker. She told me that Ellie and a bunch of them were at Happy Hour the evening before the boat crash. And, she just remembered a case of craft beer had been delivered to the breakroom a few days earlier with a thank-you card. It was the apple craft beer that Ellie, and few others, drank. Camaya thought it was from a client. It could explain how Ellie’s prints got on the bottle in the boat. If someone wanted to frame Ellie, they could have easily grabbed one of her empty beer bottles out of the recycling bin.”

  “Really?” said her father. “That means it had to be someone who worked with her or someone who visited the building. They’d have to have known Ellie drank that type of beer and know which bottles she drank from. Unless he had the knowledge to transfer prints.”

  Grandpa said, “I saw on YouTube where you can transfer prints. Especially onto a surface like glass.”

  YouTube? I didn’t know he knew how to answer a cellphone let alone get to YouTube.

  “Thanks, Grandpa. The boat wasn’t found until the next morning. There was a window of opportunity.”

  She called Phil to tell him her new theory.

  “Sara, that sounds like a spy novel. Yes, it’s possible, but the person framing her would have had to know about the beer being delivered to Medivision, and how to transfer prints. They’d have to have had access to the breakroom.”

  “Exactly. Can’t you question her coworkers? See if anyone spotted someone going into the breakroom?”

  “And coming back out holding a beer bottle? If one of her coworkers wanted to hurt Ellie they had easier ways. And an outsider is unlikely. The building has security.”

  “You can check the security tapes!”

  “Yeah. I have another call. We’ll talk soon.”

  Sara continued working. If it didn’t happen at work, then who had access to Ellie’s house to get her prints? Preston’s prints were on the lamp, but it makes sense he’d have been in the house. They were engaged, after all. But who else was there? Travis was there. They found his prints. No, I can’t think that way just because I’m mad at him. It nagged at her. She was beginning to suspect him before she got mad at him.

  Grandpa said, “If that wet behind the ears detective won’t take you seriously, why don’t you talk to Jacob.”

  “Our neighbor Jacob?”

  “He’s a retired detective. Just cause he’s old don’t mean he can’t help. And he’s always home.”

  “Grandpa, that’s brilliant.” She put down her tools and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  She knocked on Jacob’s door.

  “Sara? Can I help you?” He seemed surprised to have a visitor.

  “I hope so. Grandpa reminded me you were a detective. As you probably know, Elle Rossi’s murder case is still open.”

  “Come in. It’s cold out. What can I do to help?”

  “How hard is it to lift prints from someone’s house and transfer them to a glass bottle?”

  “Not general knowledge, but not hard to look up how to do it. If the first set of prints came from a clean surface, they could easily be transferred to glass.”

  “Ellie’s prints were found on a craft beer bottle in the boat which killed Hunter Griffith’s son. I think she was framed. Someone had delivered her favorite beer to the breakroom at her workplace. And she’d been to a bar the night before the accident. It wouldn’t be hard to plant the bottle or transfer prints to it, then put the bottle in the boat so it’d look like Ellie had been drinking.”

  “You’re right. It could have happened that way.”

  “The detective on the case dismissed the idea. I thought he should check the security tapes to see who left the beer.”

  “Did you check the stores that sell it? You said it was a craft beer.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Do you think the boat ‘accident’ was preplanned?”

  “Not really. Camaya, Ellie’s coworker, said Ellie frantically asked to borrow her boat on the Friday afternoon of the accident. A witness on the water says she was in a big hurry. It didn’t sound planned.” If it wasn’t planned, what was the person framing Ellie planning on doing with the prints?

  “It may have been a convenient coincidence. It doesn’t preclude someone having the idea to use her prints to frame her in some capacity. Let’s see who sells that beer around here.” He opened his laptop. “What’s it called again?”<
br />
  “Apple craft beer? I don’t know an exact name.”

  Jacob searched and within minutes came up with the name of the brewery. “When was it sent to the break room?”

  Sara looked at the calendar. “This week, here.”

  Jacob grabbed his phone. “Hello, I’m trying to find out if a case of apple craft beer was sent to…”

  Sara whispered, “Medivision.”

  Jacob nodded and jotted information on a notepad. “Thanks.”

  “Well?”

  “The only case of locally delivered beer that week was sent to Medivision. It was paid for with a company credit card.”

  “So it was someone high up enough in the company to have access to a company card?”

  “Unless someone stole the card, but in that case I’m sure it would have been reported and canceled rather promptly.”

  “Thank you!”

  “If someone wanted to kill your friend, why wouldn’t they simply poison the beer and send it directly to your friend? Why go through all the trouble of framing her?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they wanted her out of the way, but not dead.”

  “Any time you need help, let me know,” said Jacob.

  “You bet I will. See you soon.”

  She returned to the shop, but had a hard time concentrating. When she got home, she whipped up a quick dinner. Travis was going to drop by after he got home from work so they could take a walk and ask the neighbors if they saw Hunter the night of Ellie’s murder. She’d just finished her burger when he knocked.

  “Ready? This is the time of day you see the neighbors walking their dogs, checking the mail, taking walks. Bundle up. It’s especially cold tonight.”

  That’s it. Act like you care about my comfort. She tried not to sound annoyed. “Did you ever see anyone over here visiting Ellie?”

  “Honestly, no, but I’m in and out all the time. Wait. I did see Preston Montague over there back when they were engaged.”