Marcie must have sensed something was wrong. “What is it?” She took the document from Deena and started reading. She gasped when she got to her name. “What? Me?”
Either Marcie was a really good actress or she was reading the document for the first time. After glancing through all three pages, she folded and stuffed the document back into the envelope and returned it to the box. “We shouldn’t be reading this.” She closed the box, locked it, and replaced the duct tape. “Let’s get out of here.”
Deena followed her. Once they were in the lobby, Marcie plastered on a fake smile and reached out to shake Deena’s hand. “This will be our secret,” she said through clenched teeth.
When Deena returned the gesture, she felt Marcie’s hand trembling.
Chapter 25
Most of Deena’s thirty-three years as a journalism teacher had been spent at Maycroft High School. She knew the building as well as she knew her own home. Some of the faces had changed since she agreed to resign amid controversy, but most had stayed the same.
She came through the front door and started to walk past Patty Betts, the receptionist who had been there as long as she could remember. In fact, the woman had been at the school so long there were likely roots growing from the legs of her chair down through the building’s foundation.
“Hi, Patty,” Deena said with a wave.
“Whoa there, Deena. Where do you think you’re going?” The woman’s wrinkles deepened.
“Oh, sorry. I’m headed to the art room. I’ve got an appointment with Hector Firestone.”
“Not without checking in with me first.” There was an edge to Patty’s voice Deena didn’t remember from her teaching days or from speaking to Patty on a regular basis Sundays at church.
Patty pushed a clipboard at her.
Deena took the pen and filled in the information.
When she started to walk off again, Patty held out her hand and said, “Driver’s license, please.”
“What? Why?” Deena was anxious to get to the art room before Mr. Firestone’s conference period ended.
Patty pointed to a large laminated sign. “There’s no such thing as too much safety.”
Deena pulled out her billfold and flashed her ID.
“Take it out, please. I have to hold on to it until you check out of the building.”
“Are these new procedures?”
“We implemented them last year. Because”—she pointed again—“there’s no such thing as too much safety.”
“Got it.”
Patty picked up the phone. “I’ll call Mr. Firestone so he can escort you to his room.”
Deena reached over and pressed down on the button to hang up the call. “Seriously? I’m practically still an employee.”
Patty leaned forward. “Are you here on official business with the newspaper?”
“No.” She bit her bottom lip and then added, “I am no longer working there.”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose you can be trusted this once.” She pulled a “Hi, my name is” sticker out of her drawer, wrote Deena’s name on it, and handed it to her. “Don’t forget to stop by on your way out.”
Deena took the sticker and started to walk off again.
“Uh-uh,” Patty said and wagged her finger. “You have to wear it.”
Deena pulled the waxed paper off the back and slapped the sticker onto her blouse. She had forgotten just how strict school environments could be and was grateful to be retired.
Mr. Firestone stood in his classroom covered in a garment that resembled a hazmat suit. He wore plastic goggles and a protective mask over his mouth.
Deena took one look and shook her head. “What on earth are you doing? Teaching kids to make art with biohazardous waste?”
He pulled off the goggles and mask. “Hey, Deena. No, we are using paint.”
“Like house paint?”
“No, watercolors.” He shook his head and pointed to a sign. “You know what they say—”
“There’s no such thing as too much safety. Yeah, I learned that from Patty.”
He wiped up a spill with a paper towel. “Don’t even get me started on what we have to do for origami. I mean, I remember when I was in school we used to carve animals out of bars of soap using real knives. And we used broken glass to make mosaics. Sure, we’d get cut now and then, but that’s what made us tough.” He threw the paper towels in the recycling bin. “Now let’s see these papers you told me about.”
She pulled the two documents out of their envelopes, turned to the last pages, and handed them to him.
He sat at his desk and pulled out a large magnifying glass to examine the signatures.
Deena watched over his shoulder. “I know you teach calligraphy and we always had you check the report cards that looked suspicious, so I thought you might be able to tell if one of these is fake.”
He went back and forth between the signatures, appearing to study each letter at a time. “On first glance they are identical.”
Deena let out a sigh. She had secretly hoped that the one made out to Marcie was a forgery. She really wanted Kitty to inherit her grandfather’s estate.
“But that’s a problem,” Hector said. “They are almost too similar.”
Deena felt her heart start to race. “That’s what I thought too.” She pulled out the checkbook carbons. “I know these aren’t great, but here’s some other examples of his signature.”
Hector laid the carbons out and examined each one.
Deena hadn’t told him that the documents she was bringing him were wills, and he hadn’t seen the first pages where the benefactors’ names were listed.
“Look here,” he said. “There are slight differences on each of these, especially at the end of the last name. Some people have a signature they use every time they sign an official document. For a lot of people, the signature can vary slightly depending on the writing surface, writing instrument, and even the situation. I sign letters to parents much more meticulously than my credit card receipt at a restaurant. Also, as a person ages, their signature can get more erratic due to health issues.”
“This one was written a couple of years ago,” Deena said, pointing to the will she knew had Kitty’s name listed. “It seems logical that the most recent signature is the fake, if one of them is, right?”
Hector sat up. “Not necessarily. These are wills, I’m assuming. I read about Mr. Cooper’s death. It could be that someone copied the signature and backdated it.”
Deena hadn’t considered that possibility.
“But if I had to bet on it, I’d say this newest one is a forgery.” He backed away from the desk and handed Deena the magnifying glass. “My guess is that someone practiced tracing the signature and then traced this one onto the document. It seems to be written with a lighter hand.”
Deena couldn’t really see a difference, but she nodded as though she did.
The bell rang and she knew the room would soon be flooded with students. She picked up the papers and put them all back in her purse. “Thanks, Hector. You’ve been a big help.”
“Remember, I’m not certified in handwriting analysis. You’ll need to get an expert to testify in court.” He walked over and picked up his safety gear just as two girls walked in, threw down their backpacks at a table, and began chattering like hens.
“I will. Thanks.” As she weaved her way through the throng of teens, Deena had two thoughts. One: Did these kids get taller or was she shrinking? And two: Who could she trust? Kitty or Marcie? She decided she shouldn’t put her trust in either of them.
After all, there’s no such thing as too much safety.
Chapter 26
I quit my job, Deena repeated to herself as she drove away from the high school. So why do I have these two wills from Kitty?
She knew the answer. It was partly because of her determination to see a project through to completion. Another part was her desire to seek justice, but another part was just plain nosiness. She’d never been as m
uch of a busybody while she was teaching, but since she’d quit, that piece of her had grown exponentially. She supposed it was because she had more time on her hands, which was why she needed to get over to the antique mall and check on her booth. She needed to keep busy with other things besides investigating murders.
But first, she needed to return the two wills to Kitty. She steered her car in the direction of the tire store since she didn’t have Kitty’s address, but then her cell phone rang. She saw it was Guttman and pulled over to answer it.
“We apparently just missed Clay Brooks,” the detective said. “A neighbor said he’d just left on foot when we got there. Any idea where he might have gone?”
Deena looked around to see if she spotted anyone walking in the area. “Did you try Kitty’s house?”
“We did. No luck.” Then it sounded as though Guttman covered the phone with his hand to muffle the voices. Then he came back on the line. “You’ll never believe it. Guess who just showed up to turn himself in.”
“Who?”
“Clay Brooks.”
The busybody reared her head again. “I’ve got some new information. I’ll be right there.” Deena hung up before Guttman could protest. Hopefully, he’d be willing to talk to her since she’d been helping them with the case. She looked at her purse with the two wills inside and remembered how Kitty had wanted her to keep them private. She punched in the girl’s number. When she answered, Deena told Kitty she had some news and asked her to meet in front of the police station.
Kitty agreed.
Deena purposely didn’t tell the girl where Clay was because she needed to feel her out first and see her reaction to the news that one of the signatures on the wills could be fake.
But which one?
* * *
KITTY WAS WAITING IN her car again when Deena pulled up. Deena sat still and Kitty walked over to her.
“Get in,” Deena said.
She sat down and closed the door. “Why did you want to meet here? Am I in trouble?”
“Depends.” Deena pulled the documents out of her purse and gave them to the girl. “Did you forge your grandfather’s signature on the will?”
“No,” she said calmly but with an edge of annoyance. “I told you I was at the bank with Granddad when he had the papers notarized.”
“At the bank? You didn’t mention that the notary was done at the bank.” The wheels in Deena’s head spun like a lock on a safe. Marcie would have access to the notary and could even get the notary to authorize the papers without the signee being there. Wasn’t that what friends were for?
Kitty turned in her seat to look straight at Deena. “Did that art teacher say the signature was forged?”
“He wasn’t sure.” Deena wasn’t ready to explain. She wanted to hear what Clay had to say first. “I have some news. Clay is here. He turned himself in.”
Kitty’s eyes widened to the size of doughnuts, and she reached for the door handle.
“Wait,” Deena said. “There’s no guarantee you can see him. I’m going to talk to Detective Guttman and find out what I can. I want you to wait in the lobby. The detective may have some more questions for you too.”
“Okay,” Kitty said and got out of the car. “If you see him before I do, will you tell him I forgive him?”
Deena shut the door of her car with a little too much oomph. “Forgive him for what? Murdering your grandfather?”
“Of course not. I forgive him for running out on me.”
LINDA MCKENZIE WAS on duty again at the front desk and waved Deena back. “He’s expecting you.”
That was a good sign. Deena walked to his office door and knocked.
“Enter!” He sat at his desk with his feet up and his fingers laced behind his head. Officer Hitchcock stood up from his chair and tipped his hat to Deena.
She noticed their grins. “What are you two so happy about?” She took a seat next to the officer.
“Just another notch in the old gun belt,” Hitchcock said.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way,” Guttman said quickly. “It’s not like we killed anyone, but we do think we’re about to close another murder case, thanks in part to you.” He picked up his coffee cup and waved it toward her in a toasting gesture.
She was surprised, to say the least. “Did Clay Brooks confess?”
“Yep. He didn’t cop to everything yet, but he admitted to the scam he and his girlfriend pulled with Richard Boxer. Leaving a dead guy on the side of the road is just one step away from murder.” Guttman leaned over and gave Hitchcock a fist bump.
“But he hasn’t confessed to poisoning Edwin Cooper, right?” Deena blew out a sigh.
“Not yet, but as it turns out, Santos has a way of getting a person to give up his secrets. It’s just a matter of time. We’re letting Brooks sit awhile and think about it.”
“Yeah, sweat a little,” Hitchcock added and chewed on a raggedy toothpick.
“What if I have information that points to another possible suspect?” Deena crossed her legs as though she were the sexy private eye offering a lead to her downtrodden boss. But considering she was wearing slacks and was way past her sexy years, she doubted it would have any effect. She uncrossed them and stood up instead. “Would you be willing to consider it?”
Guttman’s face turned back to its normal grimace. “Hitchcock. Go get some coffee.”
“But I don’t need any.”
“For Mrs. Sharpe.” The edge to his voice was back.
“Cream and sugar,” Deena said as the officer left the room.
Guttman rubbed his forehead. “I was having such a good day until you got here.”
“Sometimes the truth hurts,” she said and took Hitchcock’s chair. “I’ve got Kitty Cooper waiting in the lobby.” She held up her hand. “Before you say anything, I don’t think she was involved in the murder. But she has some other information you should hear.”
“This better be good,” Guttman said and yelled in his phone to have Kitty brought to his office.
Kitty came in looking like a frightened puppy. Deena offered her a seat and spoke to her gently. “I know you didn’t want to tell anybody, but I found out there is a second copy of the you-know-what, and you-know-who knows about it.”
Kitty’s jaw tightened. “Marcie?”
Deena nodded. “Can we tell Detective Guttman what you found? It’s totally up to you. He has no idea of what we’re talking about.”
“That’s for sure,” Guttman barked.
“Okay.” Kitty reached in her purse and pulled out the envelopes and handed them to Guttman. “I found both of these wills in Granddad’s safe deposit box. One is made out to me, but the other one, the most recent one, is made out to Marcie Phillips.”
Without opening the envelopes, Guttman shot his eyes back to Deena. “And who in tarnation is Marcie Phillips?”
Just then the door opened and Hitchcock came in. He was obviously surprised to see Kitty. Guttman waved at him to pass the cup to Deena. “Go get another one for Miss Cooper. Now!”
Hitchcock retreated.
“Marcie Phillips is—was— a friend of Edwin’s. She lives a block over. She works at the bank.”
“Is she the one who was letting Brooks hide out at her house?” Guttman asked.
“No, that was Leslie Babcock,” Deena said, forgetting that was news to Kitty.
The girl let out a yelp.
Deena continued. “Marcie is the person in charge of safe deposit boxes. But she was gone when Kitty and Clay got to the bank, so Leslie let them in. That was the plan all along actually.”
By the look on his face, Guttman was a ticking time bomb.
“Let me simplify this,” Deena said. “Marcie had access to the safe deposit boxes. I had a friend of mine examine both wills, and it might be that the one made out to Marcie is a fake. That would be a motive for murder. Also, she lives nearby, which would give her opportunity.”
Guttman wrote down a few notes. “Are you saying this
Marcie Phillips may have forged a will naming herself the beneficiary of Mr. Cooper’s estate and then poisoned him so she could collect?”
“It’s a possibility. I’m no detective, but I think it’s worth looking at.” Deena sat back in her chair.
“What else do you know about this woman?” He looked at Kitty.
She held up her hands. “I don’t even know her. She started taking my grandfather to bingo on Friday nights. He liked talking to her when he went to the bank. That’s all I know.”
“And I know she was a little erratic,” Deena added. “On Monday, Gary and I were at the bank and she came storming into the meeting and told the bank’s vice president that she was quitting her job.”
Guttman raised an eyebrow and shot Deena a wicked grin. “Are you saying that a person who can’t seem to stay at one job is erratic? Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
Deena tossed off the remark. “It’s what she did next that was odd. She called Gary the next day to apologize. She said she’d just had a bad day and was back on the job.”
“Hmm.” Guttman tapped his fingers on the desk. “What would make someone quit their job one day and then ask for it back the next?”
“Monday,” Kitty said mournfully. “That’s when Granddad was arrested, and everything turned upside down.”
“He was arrested for threatening a man’s life with a gun,” Guttman said defensively. “You just can’t do that.”
A thought hit Deena like a raging bull. “Because Edwin thought he was dead,” she said slowly. “Because he read it in the newspaper. So did everyone else. Even Marcie.” She looked at Guttman and could tell he was following her line of thought.
Sharpe Wit Page 14
