by Woods, Lori
“Hey!” Molly exclaimed.
“Ooh, this is one of those really nice ones,” he said. “I used to have one of these.”
“You did?” Molly asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“So you know how to solve it?” she asked.
“Why? You need me to get into it for you?” Jack asked.
Molly frowned. “Yes.”
“You going to ask me nicely?” Jack taunted.
Molly grimaced. “Jack, would you please open the puzzle box for me?”
Jack winked at her. “Anything for you, baby,” he said, and began playing around with the puzzle box for a moment. “I had this exact one a while back,” he said, as he continued to twist the wooden pieces. “It was tough to get into. I kept my spare keys and social security type information in it. There’s like fifty steps or something like that to get it open… looks like you’ve been at it long enough to figure some of it out… hold on… I about got it…” Another moment passed, and suddenly, the box made a clicking sound and opened up like a jewelry box. “Ta-da!” he said, and Molly quickly took it from him before he had a chance to rummage through it.
“Thanks,” Molly said.
“Where did you get that thing anyways?” he asked.
“Rita’s,” Jeffrey answered for her. “What’s in it, Molly?”
“Old hospital records?” Molly said, sounding extremely confused. “Of Troy’s.”
“Rita kept a bunch of old hospital bills in a puzzle box?” Jack questioned. “That’s weird. What are they for?”
“Stitches… a broken bone…fractured wrist…” Molly placed all of the paperwork down on the table, and the three of them rummaged through it.
“Dude must have really been into some sort of rough sport or something,” Jack said.
“We did see a bunch of workout equipment at Rita’s place,” Jeffrey said. “But it looked like it belonged to Rita. Maybe it had originally been Troy’s, but Rita got into boxing after the divorce as well? Troy certainly looks like the kind of guy who would box. You should have seen the holes in the walls at her house.”
“I got a riddle for you boys,” Molly said.
Jack and Jeffrey both looked a bit intrigued. “Oh yeah?” Jeffrey asked.
“Hear me out,” she said. “A father and son are in a car accident, and both of them require surgery. They are both rushed to the ER. The doctor who is going to give the son surgery enters the operating room and says, ‘I can’t operate on him, he’s my son’ — how is that?”
Jack and Jeffrey looked stumped for a moment. Jack answered first. “He’s got two dad’s or something?”
“No,” Jeffrey said. “The doctor was his mom.”
“Bingo,” Molly said. “Funny, Jack; you assumed the doctor had to be a man, right?”
Jack huffed. “Yeah, so what?”
“My point is there are certain things people make assumptions about. Especially when it comes to sex and gender. Looking at these hospital records, though, I think we all made an assumption about Troy, and I bet the police who arrested him for that domestic violence charge made an assumption too,” Molly said.
“What are you talking about?” Jeffrey asked.
“I mean that I don’t think Rita was our domestic violence victim. I think Troy was.”
Jack huffed. “No way. You think that little woman was beating up her husband? Troy’s the one with the domestic abuse charge.”
“I think we need to talk to Troy about it one more time,” Molly decided. “Because something isn’t adding up for me. Bonnie, Braxton, you two good for a bit on your own?”
“You got it, boss!” Bonnie called from behind the counter.
“All right, well, I’m coming with you two,” Jack declared. Before either of them could protest, Jack pointed out that he had been hanging out with Troy since the back to school bash, so the guy was more likely to open up to him.
Against Molly’s better judgement, the three of them headed out together, taking Jeffrey’s patrol car. Frankly, Molly was surprised Jeffrey was at all willing to let Jack tag along, but Jack had a good point. They found Troy at the Jepsen Center, where, once again, he was taking a smoke break. “Does this guy ever actually work?” Molly questioned as they stepped out of the vehicle.
The three of them approached Troy, who was seated on the same bench as he was the last time she and Jeffrey had interviewed him. The man grunted. “What are you all doing here? I thought you were done talking to me,” he said.
Jack took the lead before Jeffrey or Molly had a chance. “Troy, we need to talk about some old hospital records of yours,” he said.
“Um… okay?” Troy questioned, and took a long drag of his cigarette.
“I want to know what it is you were doing that would cause you to go to the hospital three times in one year for a broken bone, some stitches, and a hairline fracture in your wrist,” Jack said.
Troy huffed. “Man, I don’t even remember,” he said, and Molly could tell he was lying. “Probably just got hurt working around the house.”
“Do you box?” Molly asked, and she could tell this question troubled him a bit.
“No,” he said. “Why?”
“Just found a bunch of boxing equipment at Rita’s place. Wasn’t sure if it belonged to you,” Molly said.
“No, Rita was the boxer,” he said. “She was kind of a fitness nut.”
“Your domestic violence charge against Rita,” Jeffrey said. “Tell me about what happened.”
“Pretty sure you can find that in the police report,” Troy insisted.
“Cut the crap, Troy,” Jack said. “We know what the police report says. But we want to know your side of things. And I advise you be truthful, because, otherwise, you’re coming off as a pretty sensible suspect in this case.”
Troy hesitated for a moment. He took another long drag of his cigarette before putting it out on the bench. “Fine,” he huffed, turning a bit red in the face. “I was the one who called the police that night because Rita had me locked in our bedroom, and she was standing out in the hall, threatening me with a baseball bat. She had already thrown a few punches at me, and I had smacked her once to get her off me before I locked myself in the room and called 911.”
“What happened once the police showed up?” Jack asked.
“They took one look at Rita’s busted lip and slapped cuffs on me, and she pleaded self-defense when they saw the holes in the door from the baseball bat,” Troy said. “I wound up getting a domestic violence charge — that was the first and last time I ever called the police. We wound up divorcing shortly after that.”
“So Rita was the abuser, then,” Molly said.
Troy nodded, avoiding eye contact with all of them. “She was always an aggressive woman. I kind of liked her attitude and confidence at first, but a few years into our marriage, her playful punches started getting more violent. It just started escalating, but come on… look at me. I’m a big guy, and she was just this little woman. If I tried defending myself, I would wind up in the hospital — she’d drive me and smack me from the driver’s seat the whole ride there and scream at me and threaten me. I didn’t want anyone to know because it was embarrassing, all right? What kind of guy can’t defend himself against a little girl like Rita?”
“You shouldn’t have had to defend yourself,” Molly said. “Abuse is abuse, Troy. It doesn’t matter if your abuser was a woman.”
“I’m sorry the police jumped down your throat,” Jeffrey said. “They jumped to conclusions. That wasn’t right.”
“Yeah, well, now you know,” Troy said, standing. “I got to get back to work.” He walked off, seeming incredibly embarrassed by the conversation.
Molly crossed her arms. “I guess now we need to talk to Glen.”
Chapter 11
Molly and Jeffrey were having very little luck in getting in contact with Glen. He seemed to always be jumping from one of his shops to the other, and the man wasn’t answering his phone or a
ny of Jeffrey’s voicemails. It was troubling, as he was the only person left on their suspect list whom they hadn’t had a one-on-one conversation with, and now that they knew one of his shops had a major rivalry with Rita’s, they had definitely pinned him down as someone with potential motive.
Growing tired of making phone calls, Jeffrey suggested they simply go and visit Glen’s shops and speak to some of the other managers about the man. Eager to do something more than twiddling her thumbs, Molly agreed to this plan and left Whammy behind at the shop with Bonnie and Braxton to handle things. The two of them headed out once more towards central Savannah, where a number of Glen’s shops were located. Thankfully, Molly had held onto the man’s business card, so they did not have to waste any time trying to figure out which shops were Glen’s.
The manager was unavailable at the first shop, so they decided to circle back. The next shop they went into sold all sports-related paraphernalia, and Molly could tell that Jeffrey was slightly distracted by some of the interesting tabletop games on display. “Focus,” Molly told him, grinning slightly as he stood, mesmerized, by a miniature tether ball pole and ball meant as a decorative piece for one’s desk.
“Can I help you folks?” a friendly voice chimed, and Molly spotted a young man stepping out from behind a rack of basketballs.
“We’re looking for Glen Fetters,” Molly said. “He’s the owner of this shop, correct?”
“He is, but he’s not in today,” the man said. “But I’m this shop’s manager; my name is Ethan. Is there something I could assist you two with?”
“Perhaps,” Jeffrey said. “Truthfully, we are hoping to talk to Glen, though. He was possibly a witness to a crime that I am investigating.”
“Geez,” Ethan said. “Everything okay?”
“I’m afraid someone was murdered,” Molly said.
“Is Glen in some sort of trouble?” Ethan asked nervously.
“No, not at all,” Jeffrey assured the man. “We just believe he was nearby when the murder occurred, and we need to speak to him about what he may have seen.”
“Oh, okay,” Ethan said, sighing a bit.
“This is a pretty cool shop,” Jeffrey said, looking around a bit. “How long have you worked for Glen?”
“Just a couple of years. This shop is one of his newer endeavors,” Ethan said. “This one and the collectibles shop down the road.”
Molly raised a brow. “That one was new?”
“Newer than this one. Been around for a couple of years now. It was doing really well until that other collectibles place opened up next door,” Ethan said, grunting slightly.
“Your boss ever mention that shop owner?” Molly asked.
“Yeah, Rita?” Ethan asked. “He’s mentioned her a few times. He had told me he was going to talk to her a while back. Between you and me, that woman sounded like a creep.”
“How do you mean?” Jeffrey asked.
“I mean, she opens up a shop next door and follows Glen’s business plan to the tee. Right next door. I mean, who does that? Karen, the manager at Glen’s collectibles shop, told me she has chased Rita out of there a dozen times for taking pictures of price tags. She sells pretty much the exact same merchandise and then marks it down just a couple of bucks below whatever Glen is selling it. Once, she put up a big sign in her window saying something like Cheaper than the Competition, with a big arrow pointing towards Glen’s place. She hasn’t even been in that building for too long, but she already put a big dent in Glen’s sales,” Ethan said. “One of these days, Rita is going to push someone’s buttons who isn’t going to play nice with her anymore.”
“Like Glen’s?” Molly questioned. It seemed to her that Ethan clearly did not know that Rita had been killed.
Ethan shrugged. “Maybe. Glen has a way with swaying other shop owners.”
“What do you mean, Ethan?” Jeffrey asked, putting down the tabletop tether ball pole he had been holding.
“I don’t really ask him how he does it, but he’s got this way of negotiating with other shop owners. He always gets what he wants, you know? He chased out another guy who was looking into putting up a sports shop three blocks from here. Made sure this was the only one on this side of town. He had mentioned he was going to have one of his talks with Rita,” Ethan said with a laugh. “Probably offer her some money to move out or something. I think that’s what he must have done with that other guy who was looking into doing the sports shop.”
Or he threatened them, Molly thought just as the front door opened. “Hey! Glen! These two were just looking for you!” Ethan called, and Molly spun around in time to see Glen stepping into the shop.
Glen smiled. “Hello, Officer,” he said to Jeffrey, and then smiled politely at Molly. “Ma’am. Is there something I can do for you two?”
“We want to talk to you about what you were up to the day of the back to school bash,” Jeffrey said.
“Oh,” Glen said, thinking for a moment. “Mostly checking in with all of my managers. I own a lot of shops, you know? I was just going from booth to booth and helping out where I could.”
“Are you aware that Rita was killed that day?” Jeffrey asked, and Molly saw Ethan cringe — probably thinking about how he had just talked about his boss’s distaste for Rita in front of the cop investigating the woman’s murder.
“I heard,” Glen said. “Tragedy. She and I never really saw eye to eye, but I certainly wouldn’t wish something like that on anyone.”
“Of course,” Molly said, her eyes lingering towards his arm. Poking out from under his left sleeve, she could see part of a bandaging. “Oh wow, what happened to your arm?” she asked.
“Dog bite. Can you believe it?” Glen said quickly. “My neighbor let’s his dog run around off-leash. The thing never cared too much for me. I’ll be happy to talk to you two about the day of the back to school bash, but if you could pardon me for one second, I just need to make a quick phone call to one of my other shops. It’s been a rather hectic day. I got a lot of shipments in this morning, and I think one of the trucks went to the wrong shop.”
“Of course,” Jeffrey said, and Glen stepped through a back door into an office area, closing the door behind him.
Ethan turned to Jeffrey and Molly, looking a bit pale. “You’re not… investigating Glen as a suspect or anything, are you? I mean, I know I was saying he didn’t like Rita, but I didn’t know you were investigating her murder.”
“What did he tell you about his injury?” Molly asked.
Ethan shrugged. “Same thing he told you. A dog bite…” There was some hesitancy in his voice.
Jeffrey crossed his arms. “What? What are you thinking?”
Ethan nervously scratched the back of his head. “Well, he showed me a picture of his arm. And, honestly… it didn’t really look like a dog bite to me. Looks more like someone had jabbed him.”
“Do you have the picture?” Jeffrey asked.
“Um… hold on… he sent it to me…” Ethan said, digging around his pocket for his phone. He pulled his cell phone out and began looking through his messages. “Yeah, he showed it to me after he had gotten stitched up.” After a moment, Ethan showed them the picture that Glen had sent him from the hospital.
Jeffrey scowled. “Yeah, that’s a stab wound. That’s not a dog bite at all.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Ethan said. “But I just figured something embarrassing must have happened so he made up the whole dog bite story.”
Glen exited the back room seconds later, smiling. “Okay, got that all straightened out. So, what is it you two are needing from me?”
“Just a DNA swab,” Jeffrey said smoothly. “There was blood not belonging to Rita at the scene, and we’re just taking as many samples as we can of anyone at the event who might have known Rita. Since you own a shop next door to hers, I’d say you qualify.”
“Oh,” Glen said, and Molly could see that he looked quite anxious at hearing this.
“Is that all right?” Je
ffrey asked.
“Um… yeah… of course,” Glen said.
“Great,” Jeffrey said, handing Molly the keys to his patrol car. “There’s a swab kit in the trunk. Do you mind grabbing it for me, Molly?”
“Sure thing,” she said, hurrying out to the patrol car and returning promptly with a small kit.
Jeffrey opened up the kit on the counter and put on some gloves before pulling out a cotton swab. “Just a little spit is all we need,” Jeffrey said politely, as though he believed this to be simply a routine matter. Ethan was pacing nervously behind the counter. “And then we’ll take this to the station to be tested with the rest.”
“Of course,” Glen said nervously.
Glen opened his mouth, and Jeffrey swabbed inside his cheeks. When he pulled the swab back, Jeffrey paused. The swab had brushed up against the side of Glen’s lips, and there was a cream color left on it. “Are you wearing makeup?” Jeffrey asked.
“Um…” Glen said. “Just a little. I had a terrible breakout. It was very unprofessional looking, you see… and…”
Jeffrey stared at him more carefully. “Your face is covered in bruises.”
And just like that, Glen attempted to run. He pushed Molly clear over in an attempt to get out the door, but it was to no avail. Ethan had chunked a basketball at the back of the man’s head, and he fumbled — giving Jeffrey time to run over and sit on his back and cuff him. “You’re fired!” Glen roared as Jeffrey forced the man up into seated position.
“Yeah, I figured as much,” Ethan said, picking up the basketball victoriously.
“Nice,” Molly said as Ethan reached a hand down to her to help her stand.
“It was an accident!” Glen began. “I went to her tent just to talk to her, all right? That was it. I wanted to talk to her about how she had been snooping around in my shop and how she had intentionally modeled her business plan after mine. It wasn’t right! I just went there to talk!”
“To talk or to intimidate her into closing down?” Jeffrey asked.
Glen scowled, but he certainly didn’t answer Jeffrey’s question. “She got all defensive, and she socked me in the face! Twice! Busted my lip, and I finally smacked her back. A plate fell and broke against the ground after she backed into a table, and she started cussing at me about breaking one of her plates. She picked up a piece of it and attacked me! She attacked me! Stabbed me in the arm and punched me. I finally just shoved her… it was an accident! She fell back and hit her head on the table!”
