by Kathi Daley
“Things went fine. He is home resting under Clara’s watchful eye. I ran into Alex when I got back to the resort to drop off Garrett’s new meds,” I told him. “He was on his way to interview one of Gina’s neighbors and I tagged along.” I filled Jack in on our conversation with Pamyla, as well as our stop at Rick’s office.
“This feels like it could be a real break,” Jack responded.
I hung my jacket up on the coatrack. “I thought so too. Of course, we still need to identify the person driving the dark-colored truck and prove that Gina was with him on the night she died. Still, the existence of the truck feels like a real clue. Though the fact that the man came around at midnight might make it difficult to find another neighbor who can remember seeing the vehicle outside her house.”
“Maybe we don’t need to find someone from Gina’s neighborhood who remembers seeing the truck,” Jack said. “If we are correct and the driver of the truck was burglarizing homes she had staked out first, all we really need to do is find someone in one of the neighborhoods where a home was broken into who remembers seeing the truck and might have noticed a license plate number or some identifying feature.”
I paused to consider this. “We suspect that Gina was using the open houses to scope out the places for burglaries at some future date. It is likely she used the opportunity to make a duplicate key and write down the alarm code. The thing is, the burglaries didn’t take place right away. They happened later, which makes sense because a burglary right after an open house would have created an immediately identifiable pattern. But still, if the burglary occurred a month or more afterward to create a time lag, how did Gina know the house would be unoccupied on the night the burglary was scheduled?”
“I suppose that because the house was listed for sale the owners must have stayed in contact with their real estate agent to let them know if they were going to be out of town,” Jack speculated. “Gina worked in the office, so she might have had access to all the files, and if I had to guess, once she identified homes of interest she simply kept an eye out for a notice that the owners were leaving town for at least a couple of days.”
“Okay. I guess that makes sense. The operation is really pretty ingenious, if you think about it. As an employee of the real estate office, Gina had access to all the information she needed. I think we have a solid theory here; now all we need to do is find Gina’s partner and prove that he was the one who killed her.”
“Might not be the easiest thing to do now that so much time has passed, unless the partner is still active. I wonder if Rick has looked into other home burglaries in the area since Gina’s death. The burglar might have expanded his territory, but I’m sure that Rick can get burglary reports from within a hundred-mile radius, which he can then compare to the reports from the thefts during the time we suspect Gina was active.”
Jack made a good point. “I’ll call to ask him about it. He might be able to cross-reference open house activity with homes that were burglarized fairly easily. It sort of makes sense that the man behind the whole thing would have looked for another real estate employee to work with.”
“Perhaps,” Jack said. “But it makes more sense to me that rather than finding another real estate employee as a partner, the burglar might have found someone else with access to homes. Someone like a cable repair guy or a pest inspector. I think Rick should look at all burglaries and then narrow it down from there.”
Jack was right again. No wonder I loved him so much.
******
Gracie Hartwell, Jeremiah Groverson’s daughter, lived in a modest home in a modest neighborhood in the center of Gull Island. She was a quiet woman in her seventies who was now retired, but we had learned she had worked as an elementary school teacher for more than thirty years.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Jack said after she showed us into her home and offered us seats on her sofa.
“I’m not sure writing about my father is a good idea, or one that I will support, but you were so persistent, I decided to see what you were all about.”
“I can assure you that we only want to honor your father and will not print anything that you do not approve of.”
Gracie frowned at us. “It was a newspaperman like you who wanted to honor my father by publishing an article about him that led to his arrest and eventual death in prison. I don’t hold much esteem for those of you who think that your story is more important than the lives of those who are affected by it.”
I glanced at Jack, who seemed to be totally focused on Gracie. His gaze softened. “We heard about your father’s arrest after the article we came across was published. At the time I first contacted you, we had not heard that part of his story, and to be honest, if we had known about the events that came after your father’s act of heroism, we may not have settled on him as a candidate for our series on the men and woman who shaped Gull Island. Since learning of his arrest and conviction, I have come to believe that telling his story could be important if we can demonstrate that he was innocent, as he maintained.”
“Can you do that after all this time?” Gracie asked. “Can you prove he was innocent of killing that woman on the dock?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Jack answered. “With your permission, I’d like to dig into it a bit. If we can’t prove that your father was innocent, we won’t run the story at all. But if we can find new evidence that shows he was, our story will give you a chance to clear your father’s name.”
Gracie bit her lower lip. She narrowed her gaze and looked at Jack. “It seems like an impossible task to find out who really killed that woman at this point. Why would you even want to bother with it?”
Jack looked at me. “It is sort of what we do. I don’t know if we can find any evidence to clear his name, and even if we can, it might take us a very long time to accomplish. We are going to put the article on hold for now and choose another to begin our series. But we would like to follow any leads we do come across. All we are asking for is your blessing for us to do so.”
“I guess that might be all right. Would you need anything from me?”
“We may have questions along the way that you might be in a position to answer. We’d like to be able to call on you from time to time if we do find anything. If we don’t find any new evidence, you will be no worse off than you are now. But if we do find something…” Jack let the sentence dangle.
“All right. I spoke to Gertie Newsome and she said I could trust you, so I guess I will. I would like to go to my grave knowing that my father’s name had been cleared.”
We spoke to Gracie for a while longer. We didn’t dig too deep, but she did tell us the story of the day her father saved dozens of lives, as told to her by her mother. She shared some of the other stories her mother had passed on about the man who had come to the island a drifter but had worked hard to make a place for himself in her life and the lives of the others he touched.
After we left Gracie’s, we went to the newspaper so that Jack could pick up a file he wanted to bring home to review. The sky was dark and heavy with clouds, but so far, the rain had stayed offshore, so we decided to take Kizzy for a nice long walk before the rain made its appearance when we got back to the resort. I wasn’t sure we had a lot of food in the house, but Jack said that there were a couple of steaks in the freezer that we could defrost and grill, although the produce was looking pretty sad, so we made a quick stop for salad fixings.
“We may as well pick up some bread and milk while we are here,” Jack said as he grabbed a cart.
“How are we doing on dog food?” I asked.
“I picked some up at the pet supply store last week. We are out of ice cream, though, if you want to grab a carton, and I think we need mayonnaise for sandwiches as well.”
I followed Jack around the store as he pushed the basket and picked up what we needed. Neither of us particularly liked to cook and we worked long hours, so we went out to eat often, but it was a good idea to have a few staples i
n the house. “Did you ever find out why the part-timer didn’t show up yesterday?” I asked as we walked past the counter where the newspapers were displayed on Wednesdays.
“I called his home and his cell, but he didn’t answer. Then I checked with his emergency contact, a cousin who lives in Pennsylvania, and he hadn’t heard from him either. If I can’t get hold of him by tomorrow, I’ll go by his house. He’s missed work before, so I’m not overly concerned.”
“He’s missed before? Do you know why?”
“I think he has a drinking problem. He is a good employee most of the time and is willing to work as many or as few hours as I give him, which is unusual, and the one other time he simply didn’t show up, he eventually told me he had been sick. When I happened to mention it to a mutual friend, he said that he hadn’t been sick, he was hung over. I let it go the last time after he apologized, but I don’t think I can let it go again. We need someone we can depend on. I am going to wait to start looking for a replacement until I can actually speak to him to confirm my suspicions, but I’m pretty sure this is where we are heading.”
I was sorry to hear that. I genuinely liked the guy, but I agreed that we needed someone we could count on. This week I had been around to cover for his absence, but there were times when Jack and I were both out of town and we needed someone we could rely on completely.
“It looks like you got here just in time,” the checker said, nodding toward the window, which revealed the fact that it was starting to sprinkle.
“I’d hoped it would wait a bit longer,” I replied. “It seems like we have had more than our share of rain lately.”
“I heard it is supposed to be a wet winter. I suppose the lakes and rivers inland will benefit, but a drying trend would be nice for us.”
Jack paid for the groceries while I bagged them.
“I guess because you own the newspaper and all, you must know about the man they found shot to death a little while ago,” the clerk said.
“No,” Jack answered. “We were out on an interview this afternoon. Who was shot?”
“Some guy; I can’t remember his name. One of my regulars came in just before you and told me that his buddy, who works for the fire department, told him that the guy who had been shot had been out of town. No one even knew he was back until the woman who cleans his house and runs errands for him went over to drop off a few things he asked her to pick up for him in preparation for his return home later this week found him dead on the floor.”
Jack looked at me. “You grab the groceries and I’ll call Rick.”
Rick was still at the scene of the crime, which had already been secured. He assured Jack that there was no reason to come over; he wouldn’t be able to get close enough to the crime scene to get any photos. Jack figured that a photo of the outside of the residence was better than no photo at all, so we dropped off the groceries at the house, grabbed Kizzy, and drove back into town. A car ride wasn’t the same as a long walk on the beach, but Kizzy seemed happy enough to be out. When we pulled up to the house, we found yellow tape across the drive and a whole slew of emergency vehicles with their lights flashing. Rick hadn’t been wrong when he said we wouldn’t be able to gain access to the house, but Jack took a photo of the exterior, then scanned the crowd for someone who might have more information about what was going on. I’d planned to stay in the car with Kizzy, but my curiosity got the better of me. Despite the steady drizzle, I clipped on her leash and joined Jack outside.
“I’m going to see if the man standing next to the ambulance knows anything,” Jack said. “It looks as if he might be waiting to take the body to the morgue.”
“Okay. Kizzy and I are going to mingle among the spectators to see what we can find out. We can meet back at the car and compare notes.”
Much of the crowd began to disperse when the rain picked up in intensity, but I managed to speak to a few individuals who said that the man who owned the house worked in sales and was away from home much of the time. No one I spoke to knew where he had been this time, why he had come home early, or who might have shot him, but I did notice a “for sale” sign on the front lawn. Coincidence? Maybe.
Kizzy and I returned to the car once the drizzle turned into a downpour. Jack arrived shortly after.
“So?” I asked. “Did the guy know anything?”
“Not really. He just told me what we already knew. The homeowner had been out of town and was expected back this weekend, but the woman who worked for him found him dead when she came by to drop off some items he’d asked her to stock in the kitchen in preparation for his return. She found him shot to death not far from the entry.”
“Did you notice the ‘for sale’ sign out front? Do you think the man might have interrupted a burglary?”
Jack glanced toward the front yard and the sign. “Given what we suspect about Gina’s death, that’s a possibility. Especially if we can confirm the burglaries continued after Gina’s death. Rick is busy at the moment, and I have no idea how long he will be tied up, but I’ll text him to ask him to stop by when he is finished here. The burglaries Gina might have been involved in appeared to have taken place in the middle of the night, if that really was why the guy in the truck was picking her up. We don’t know when this man was killed, but Rick will have an idea of the time of death once the medical examiner has taken a look at the body. I suppose the next thing we’ll need to know is when he arrived home.”
“Rick will probably be able to find that out as well. Let’s go home and get out of our wet clothes. Then we can begin a list of things we want to discuss with Rick when he is able to join us.”
Chapter 9
Friday, January 11
Rick had been tied up until late in the evening, so we arranged to meet him at his office this morning to find out what he had learned so far and to go over our ideas. Given that the death of the homeowner was an open investigation, there was no guarantee that Rick would share the information he’d gathered with us, but there was usually value in sharing our theories with him even if he was unable or unwilling to reciprocate.
Kizzy never had gotten much of a walk yesterday and the rain had paused for the moment, so I took her out while Jack grabbed a shower. The dog who had been a pup when she became part of our lives was now full grown, but she still had a puppy’s energy I found invigorating. After she had run up and down the beach about a million times, we headed back to the house along the walkway that connected all the cabins to one another. As we had the other day, I found George bundled up and sipping coffee on the swing he’d set up under his covered porch.
“Heard there was a murder on the island,” George said.
“Unfortunately, you heard right. I don’t have all the details, but Jack and I have a meeting set up with Rick for later this morning. Based on what we have heard at this point, it looks like it could possibly be connected to the burglary ring we suspect Gina was part of, but we don’t know enough to say for sure yet.” I let out a half laugh. “We don’t know enough to make a statement at all about a connection, but in my mind, it seems to fit.”
“I agree. I heard the man came home early and was found not far from his front door. An interrupted burglary seems to fit the bill. But I get what you are saying. Without more to go on, it is hard to say that a burglary was involved at all. Keep me posted.”
“I will.”
“Meg and I have been working on the Jeremiah Groverson story,” George informed me.
“That is very much appreciated, although we may wind up not running it,” I said. I explained about the deal that Jack had made with Groverson’s daughter.
“That makes sense from the daughter’s perspective, though to tell you the truth, the question of the man’s guilt or innocence is the part of the story that has me the most intrigued. I have a friend who used to be in the FBI and currently does freelance work, mostly dealing with cold cases. You could say it is a hobby of his. Anyway, he has a lot of connections and is usually able to get his hands on wh
atever documents he needs, even very old, archived documents relating to trials and police reports. I have worked with him many times to obtain information for historical novels I’ve written. I told him about Jeremiah Groverson and he agreed to dig around to see what he could find. A transcript of the trial or a copy of the original police report might fill in a lot of the holes we are currently dealing with.”
I smiled. “That’s great, George. I really appreciate it, and I know Jack will as well.”
George shrugged. “The case caught my interest. Meg came over for dinner last night and we talked about it in depth. She was able to get a bit more information by looking around in the museum archives, but most of what she found was about Jeremiah the hero, not Jeremiah the convicted killer. If you need to prove that the convicted killer was innocent to be able to share the story of the hero, I think it might be worth our while to try. My friend is usually pretty quick with his responses, so I imagine I’ll hear back from him in a day or two; hopefully, by our Monday night meeting at the latest.”
“That would be awesome, and again, thank you for making the effort, and thank your friend as well.”
“I’ll do that.”
Kizzy and I left George and headed back to the house. Jack was out of the shower and mostly ready to go, so I cleaned off Kizzy’s feet, then ran upstairs to grab my purse. The forecasters were calling for more rain today, so I grabbed my raincoat and umbrella too before going down to join Jack. I was curious to find out if our theory about Gina and the burglaries in the area—and the man who was shot yesterday—held any water or was just wishful thinking.
“Rick just texted to ask if we could move our meeting back until after lunch. He has meetings with neighbors of the man who was murdered this morning. I told him that was fine. That’s a good thing about publishing a weekly paper; it’s not like we are trying to make constant deadlines.”
