“It didn’t keep you away from it.”
“And that made somebody pretty unhappy. That nun’s habit makes it seem like there’s a connection between the murder and that old robbery. Could the money have been hidden here? But why would they have left it that long?”
Mansell pulled into the parking lot of a small clinic. He put the cruiser in park and turned to her.
“We got confirmation today that fingerprints found on a cross that was with the habit belonged to a man who died in prison. He was arrested for another crime shortly after the robbery here.”
“But there’s still one robber at large as far as you know.”
“All the more reason for you to be cautious and stay away from that house. I see Terry’s car here so I assume you will get a ride with him. I’ll take your dog to his house and check back later to see how your sister is doing.”
As the chief pulled away, Max felt a mix of humiliation and guilt.
Inside the clinic, a brightly-lit waiting room greeted Max. One young couple sat holding hands, worried frowns on their faces. While Max stood at the counter, a nurse came out and called “Mr. and Mrs. Hurd?” The couple jumped up to follow her back down a hallway.
A young man at the desk turned from his computer. “Can I help you?”
“My sister, Lillian Garrett, was brought in by ambulance?”
“Yes, she’s in that first cubicle to the right.” He pointed down another hall where several divided sections were enclosed by curtains.
Max walked to the first curtain and pulled it aside tentatively. Lil lay on a table with Terry by her side. The right leg of her pants had been cut open and a middle-aged woman in a white coat was examining the leg. Black coal dust smeared the pristine white sheet on the examining table.
“Come in.” Lil gave her a weak smile, and spoke in a thin, raspy voice. “Some of your investigating is kind of hard on my wardrobe.”
Terry turned to look at Max and frowned. He did not take this as lightly as his mother.
Max walked up to them. “I’m so sorry. It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Yes, it was,” Terry said. His voice was flat.
In spite of knowing her culpability, Max was taken aback. Terry had never been less than respectful to her. She stood there a few moments, unsure of what to say. Terry turned back to his mother.
Finally she asked, “Is it broken?”
“I’m afraid so,” answered the doctor. “A small fracture. I’m going to try splinting it first. At her age, we don’t have to worry about too much activity.”
Terry rolled his eyes. “I wish.”
Max said, “I think I should go to the waiting room.” She left.
Max tried looking at a magazine but couldn’t concentrate. She found the restroom, washed her face, and smoothed her hair. Her socks were covered with burrs and her jacket pocket was ripped. After she had done what she could to restore her appearance, she returned to the waiting room.
She sat and stared into space. The only other person in the waiting room was the young man at the desk. Her brain went from regrets over her part in Lil’s injuries to puzzling over the identity of their attacker and back again.
Finally, Terry came out of the cubicle, pulling on his jacket. “They’re going to keep her overnight. Let’s get home.” He didn’t wait for an answer but headed for the door. However, his upbringing would not allow him to ignore his manners, and he stopped to hold the door for his aunt.
Once in the car, Max asked, “Did the doctor splint it or did she have to use a cast?”
“There’s a splint on it for now,” Terry said.
“Does Melody know what happened?”
“Of course. I’ve been talking to her.” Nothing more was said until they pulled in the driveway. He turned to Max. “I’ll handle the kids’ questions. I don’t want you alarming them about their grandmother.”
Max felt insulted and hurt. “Of course I wouldn’t.”
He raised his eyebrows at her, shut off the car and got out. Once again he held the front door and inside, took her coat.
Max’s antics were beginning to exact a price on her joints and muscles, and she hobbled to the kitchen. Melody and the kids were at the table playing a game of Chutes and Ladders.
“Aunt Max!” Ren said. “Rosie came home in the police car! Where have you been? Where’s Granny Lil?”
“Your dad will tell you all about it.” She turned to Melody. “Do you have any coffee made, by any chance?”
Melody started to get up. “I can make some—unless you’d rather have a glass of wine.”
“Sit still. That does sound good, but I’ll get it.”
“There’s an open bottle of Chardonnay in the fridge.”
Max poured a glass and sat down away from the table while they finished their game.
Rival turned in his chair. “Dad! What happened to Granny Lil?”
“She broke a bone in her leg and they had to put a splint on it. Remember when Ren had to have a splint on her arm? Granny’ll stay at the clinic tonight and we’ll pick her up in the morning.”
“How did she break her leg?” Ren asked.
“She fell. Now pick up your game because it’s time for you to get up to bed.”
Ren and Rival raced each other to put pieces in the box, and then charged up the steps. Melody poured herself a glass of wine and sat back down at the table. She grinned at Max. “So spill! What were you two up to?”
Terry sat down with a bottle of beer “Mel, it isn’t funny,”
“Of course the broken leg isn’t, but the rest sounds pretty exciting.” She turned back to Max. “So do tell.”
Max related an abbreviated version of events. When she got to the part about the assailant trying to break down the door with an axe, Melody’s eyes got wide.
“Wow! Weren’t you scared?”
“Very,” Max said. “That’s when we tried to get up the inside stairs to get out through the house. But he beat us there and barricaded the door. When we tried to get back down the stairs, one of the steps broke and that’s when Lil got hurt.” She paused for a moment and sipped her wine. “Fortunately we were able to call 911, and the sirens must have scared him off. We did discover a couple of important things before that all happened, though.” She told them about the manikin and the ring of keys.
Terry, who had been looking as disgusted as possible, seemed to grow more interested in spite of himself. “The missing manikin was at the dining room table?”
Max nodded. “And the one that had been at the table was in the tool shed. The keys looked like they were all for the house, except for one that Chief Mansell and I thought looked like a safe deposit box key.”
“The bank can check that and at least see if it’s from our bank.” Terry seemed to have forgotten that he was mad at Max.
Max finished her glass of wine and rinsed the glass out at the sink. “I know it’s not terribly late, but I believe I’m done.”
“I should think,” Melody said. “And the kids took Rosie out in the yard for a while after the chief brought her home.”
Max looked at the dog lying across the doorway, snoring peacefully. She went over and nudged the dog gently with her toe. “C’mon, girl. It’s time we both turned in.”
Max barely remembered her head hitting the pillow, and was deep in slumber when her phone rang a couple of hours later.
She tried to figure out where she was and when. “Hello?”.
“Max! It’s Lil!”
Max sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But I think I know who that voice was—you know—the guy who attacked us.”
It took a moment, but then clicked. “Who?”
“The guy from the Inn—that creepy Wendell.”
Max yawned and considered. “I dunno. He’s a creep, but he seemed kind of passive. I can’t imagine him swinging that axe. And what would be his motive?”
Lil sighed. “No idea.”
“How are you doi
ng?”
“Okay. I slept for a while, but now I’ve been laying here awake and got to thinking about that voice. Guess I’ll turn the TV on for a while.”
“Your son is really mad at me,” Max said.
“That’s silly. I should have just stayed in the car. As you suggested.”
“Then he just would have attacked you there. No, I never should have turned down that road. So stupid. The Chief will probably be in to see you in the morning. If not, we’ll contact him with your idea.”
“I think Terry’s going to pick me up early.”
“Good. I’ll see you then. Sleep well.”
Chapter Thirteen
Max
Wednesday morning dawned overcast, but warm. Max dragged herself out of bed, sore in every muscle and extremity. Rosie cocked her head and watched her mistress struggle with her robe and slippers.
“It’ll be a few minutes, girl,” Max told her. “In dog years, I’m over five hundred years old and I feel every bit of it.”
She shuffled to the bathroom and when she came out, searched her suitcase for her most comfortable clothes. The navy blue sweats that she pulled out weren’t glamorous, but then neither was she. Rosie followed her every move, eternally hopeful that the next one would lead outside.
Finally Max got the leash and took the dog out the back door. They walked around the side of the house and took the sidewalk to the little bridge. By the time they returned, the smell of coffee called her to the kitchen.
Terry sat at the table reading the paper. He looked up and nodded. His face looked a little less angry than it had the night before.
“Mom just called and the doctor won’t be releasing her until about 10:00. I’m going to go into work, but I will stop and get a wheelchair from the American Legion before I pick her up. They have them to borrow.”
Melody set a mug of coffee in front of Max. “The tire shop called a little bit ago and they already have the tire replaced. You can pick the car up when it’s convenient.” She stopped and grinned. “I think he wants to keep it a little longer.”
Terry said, “I can drop you off there on my way to work if you want.”
Max sat down. “I would appreciate that. I really would. Listen, Terry, I’m so sorry—”
He waved her off. “I was upset last night. I know no one can keep you two in line.” He grinned at her. “I try to remember that it’s better than having Mom vegetating in a home somewhere.”
Max smiled back. “Maybe. I hope so. Do you think she’ll need to be in a wheel chair for long?”
Terry scoffed. “Hopefully at least until I get her in the car. Then probably crutches or a walker for a while.”
“I’ll go put on something a little more presentable and then I’ll be ready to go.”
As she was getting dressed, her cell phone rang.
“Max? I’m so glad I caught you. This is Mary Carmody. I think I left my purse in your car—on the floor in the back. Did you find it?”
“Uh, no. But I got a flat tire and had to have it towed to the shop in town.” She didn’t think it was the time to go into the whole sordid story. “I’m going to pick it up in just a bit. I’m sure the purse is probably still there, but I’ll call you as soon as I get to the tire place. When does your bus leave?”
“About noon. Oh, I hope it’s there—my cards, ID, everything is in it! It’s red leather.”
“I understand. I’ll call you in the next hour and bring your purse out after I get the car, okay?”
“Thank you! I will really owe you now! I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.”
The tire shop was a typical small town business, with a couple of older guys drinking coffee in the waiting room. They bantered with the owner and laughed at their private jokes. They appeared to be just passing the time rather than paying customers.
When Max walked up to the counter, the owner looked her over and said “The Studebaker?”
“Yes. Terry said you have it done already?”
“I do. Here’s the good news.” He laid the bill in front of her.
“Do you know if there was a purse left in the back?”
The owner shrugged. “I was only in the front. If it was there, it should still be there.”
One of the two guys behind her said, “Sweet car!”
She turned. “Thank you. I like it.” She paid the bill, and while she waited for the owner to bring it around to the front, the men questioned her about where she got it and the restoration process.
The owner pulled the car up in front. He came in, and handed her the keys and a red leather purse. “Is this it?”
“Yes. Thank you. A friend left it there last night. I need to drop it off at the Hilltop Inn. Can you tell me how to get there from here?”
“Sure. Go right when you leave here and turn left on Barr Street—about two blocks down. That will take you back to the highway. Go right and follow it out of town. The Inn will be on your left.”
One of the old guys spoke up. “Don’t let old Wendell get you!” They both laughed.
Max said, “He doesn’t seem like much of a threat.”
“Don’t let his looks fool you. He works out regularly. Thinks he’s a real Cassanova. Or Mr. World.” They were still laughing as she walked out the door.
As she drove toward the Inn, Max mulled over their information. If Wendell Welter was stronger than he looked, he could have easily been their attacker. The big question was still motive, but combined with Lil’s identification of his voice, it sounded like he had the means.
As she passed a sign for the downtown business district, she looked at her watch. She had time. She made a snap decision and turned. Terry might not know much about Welter, but Camille should.
Max pulled into the bank parking lot and hurried inside. Terry was busy, so she just waved and asked Camille’s secretary if she was available. In a few minutes, the secretary returned and ushered her into Camille’s office.
Camille turned and stood from her computer and indicated one of the customer chairs.
“Max! Terry was just telling me this morning about your experience last night. How scary! And your sister has a broken leg? Do you know yet who did it?” She set a mug of coffee in front of Max.
Max shook her head. “We don’t know for sure who it was, but we have some ideas. I was just headed out to the Inn, but first I have some questions.” She paused and took a breath. “How well do you know Wendell Welter?”
Camille sat down at her desk. “Wendell? What on earth—?”
“Bear with me a moment. Has he always lived here?”
“As far as I know. He worked for a cleaning service for years—as a matter of fact, the one that cleaned the bank. Then about four or five years ago, he got a small inheritance. The Inn was for sale at the time, and he used the money to make the down payment.”
“How successful is the Inn?”
Camille tapped a pencil on her desk. “Oh…I think he’s doing okay. It hasn’t made him wealthy, but summer and fall seem to be the busy times. And I think he likes what he does. But tell me why you think he is connected to all of this?”
Max sat back in her chair. “Lil thinks she recognized his voice last night. And a couple of the guys at the tire shop this morning said he works out a lot—like he might be pretty strong.”
Camille looked skeptical. “But why would he do that? Any of it?”
“You just gave me an idea. You said he bought the Inn four or five years ago when he came into some money?”
“Yes.”
“And the bank robbery was about five years ago?”
“Yesss, it was.” Camille cocked her head to one side and studied Max.
“There were two robbers. The chief said yesterday that one died in prison for a different crime—they found fingerprints on a cross with that nun’s habit, but—”
“But the other robber was never caught.” Camille finished the thought.
“The only reason we’ve been able to come
up with for the murderer displaying Barbara Gunter’s body that way is to frighten people away from the house. I think there must be something hidden at that house connected with the robbery.”
Camille nodded. “What about Art? You seemed certain he had something to do with all of this.” She began tapping the pencil more forcefully.
“I’m sorry, Camille, but I think he is connected, although not intentionally. Wendell said the other day that he overheard a woman on the phone arranging to meet someone at the Kell house the day of murder. Barbara was the only tour member there at the time.”
“But Art—”
“One of the women on the tour recognized Art from a photo Barbara had shown her of ‘Al Carson.’ I think she was going to meet Art at the house, but Wendell caught up with her first. Or later, I don’t know.”
Camille took a deep breath and picked up her desk phone. “I need to get this straightened out once and for all. If Art is a sleaze, like you say, I want to know, so I can be done with him. If he’s not, I want to quit looking at him for signs of guilt all the time.”
“Who are you calling?”
“Chief Mansell. You should not go anywhere near Wendell Welter until we know what’s going on.”
The Chief arrived in less than ten minutes. When he saw Max sitting in Camille’s office, he frowned and shook his head. “I thought I made it clear that you needed to stay out of this.”
“You told me to stay away from the Kell house. I have.”
He shook his head again and sat in the other customer chair. Camille and Max filled him in on their guesses as to the robbery and the murder.
“I think you may have something there,” he said grudgingly. “It makes as much sense as anything else we’ve come up with.” He held up the plastic bag with the ring of keys. “Camille, can you tell me if the brass key in here came from your bank?”
She reached across the deck and picked it up. “It certainly looks like one of ours.” She turned to her computer and typed in some numbers and letters, looking closely at the key as she did so.
Foliage and Fatality Page 10
