Authors: Audrey Claire
“You know I did it, huh?” Jimmy said. “Well, maybe I should kill you too!”
Margot forgot the cleaning products to look at Jimmy, and something thumped hard on the floor. When she turned away from the angry man, she found Nancy unconscious with her nose in the spilled macaroni.
Chapter Eleven
“What do we have here?” Peter asked as he traversed the subdued group. No one met his gaze except Margot. She smiled and gave him a little wave. He nodded a greeting.
Everyone from the party was still present except Dottie. When Nancy fainted, Dottie had started to cry, and Kenny took her home. He returned before Peter showed up.
“Nothing? No one wants to explain why I got a call down at the station—several different calls mind you, at the same time—each person accusing someone else of murder and that I needed to come and make an arrest right away? Does anyone here want to explain that?”
He stopped in front of Jimmy, who paled but found an interesting sight outside Nancy’s window. Odds sauntered over to Peter, crouched with his hindquarters sticking in the air, and then took a flying leap all the way up to Peter’s shoulder.
Margot cried out. “Odds, what are you doing? Get down.”
For his part, Peter didn’t even flinch. She wondered if it was a product of his training.
“He smells like a cat. He likes cats.”
She moved closer to Peter. “D-do you like cats, Peter?”
This time he did seem surprised at her continued insistence on the name change. “He’s fine.”
“See?”
Just for a minute, Margot’s doubts fell away, but then she noticed the dress shirt Peter wore had an animal’s hair on it in a couple different places, tan and black hair, not silver like Odds’. She sighed and backed away.
Peter cleared his throat. “At least two of the calls claimed you threatened Mrs. Armitage.”
“I wasn’t serious.” Jimmy’s normally confident if a little angry tone turned whiny. “I was just cheesed she accused me of killing Coley, which by the way I didn’t do!”
He tried glaring at Debra, but Peter blocked his view. “You’re talking to me. Now, why would she say that?”
“I don’t know. She’s nuts.”
Nancy, who had been convalescing in an armchair with an ice pack pressed to the bump on her head, revived enough to speak. “He’s being his usual rude and obnoxious self. He wasn’t invited to Margot’s party, and he ruined everything.”
“I
ruined everything?” Jimmy pointed to himself and then to Debra. “She started it.”
“Are you children?” Peter snapped. “Enough! Now what I’m going to do—”
Greg stepped forward. “Detective, I want to apologize for my wife. She took the death very hard. She values all life. That’s why we are vegetarians and why we choose to grow all of our own food.”
“And why you want the third floor apartment,” Jimmy cut in.
Peter silenced him with a glare.
Greg continued. “We are all very different, but we are a close group here. We know Coley liked the bars, and he visited one at least once a week. Some bad person out there must have done this. We know that, so please just chalk those ridiculous calls you received down to temporary hot temperatures.”
“More like hot air,” Jimmy quipped.
“That’s what you think?” Peter asked.
Several heads bobbed yes. What else were they to surmise, Margot thought. She had talked to them and watched them all. Of course she was no detective, but even as angry as Jimmy got, he just didn’t seem like a killer and definitely not for a silly apartment.
Peter studied each of the faces in turn, including Margot’s. Odds curled his tail around Peter’s neck, and the detective reached an absent-minded hand up to pet him. “I’m sorry to inform you all my instinct tells me Coley Patterson’s murder happened a lot closer to home.”
The occupants of the room gasped.
“Let me mention several facts to you. Fact 1: It’s unlikely someone followed Coley Patterson all the way home from a bar to kill him. Fact 2: If they did, it’s unlikely they came all the way into the building and continued down to the basement behind two locked doors to do it. Fact 3: There is no exit from the basement to the street.”
Margot sank into a chair and fanned herself. She would not faint like Nancy did. “The guilty party probably lives here?”
“That’s my current theory. Maybe the guilty person is in this room, maybe not. There’s a strong possibility that my perpetrator lives here at 3939 Albemarle.”
Voices erupted at the same time, shouting over each other. Each claimed they were innocent and happily offered the name of the person they thought was responsible. Margot listened in disbelief. They all thought the people they spent time with, lived with, saw every day were capable of murder? None of it made sense to her.
“Excuse me, Peter,” Margot called above the shouts. No one heard her. She cleared her throat, and Odds made a good impression of a lion’s roar—a tiny, cat-toned lion’s roar. Everyone quieted down, looking at him in confusion. Margot smiled, feeling charitable toward the feline for the first time. “Thank you, Odds. Do you have a motive, Peter?”
“No,” he admitted with reluctance. Then he held his hand up. “And before you start in on me about the third floor apartment, I’ve heard about that. It’s in my notes.”
“You don’t sound like you believe it,” Nancy said.
He neither confirmed nor denied, but Margot had the impression Peter didn’t believe the desire for a better apartment was a motive for murder. So he thought something more was stirring. She filed this tidbit in her mind to write down later. After all, she too intended to get to the bottom of the mystery, just as she had told Odds.
“Okay, I’m going to talk to each of you in turn again,” Peter announced. “Starting with you, Mrs. Armitage. We’ll use the empty apartment across the hall.”
Jimmy shifted from one foot to the other.” He no doubt expected Debra to share with Peter why she thought he was guilty.
“I’m coming along with my wife,” Greg said.
“No, you’re not.”
Greg stood his ground. “I won’t let you question her alone. What if she gets too upset and needs comforting. And…and…I’ve heard of police brutality.”
Peter’s eyebrows crashed low on his forehead, and his lips curled to one side, revealing clenched teeth. He probably didn’t know it, but Margot thought he gave a great impression of a policeman who would commit such a heinous act. However, she had already seen his smile and was convinced he was a good man.
“I have never, nor would I ever need to brutalize anyone,” Peter bit out.
“No offense, Detective,” Greg said, “but my wife still needs me.”
Margot glanced at Debra. She seemed pretty capable. Peter cast around the room and locked his gaze on Margot. “How about Margot play chaperone. Will that meet with your satisfaction?”
Greg looked doubtfully at Margot, but Margot bounced up from her chair. Or in spirit she bounced up. Either way, she was excited to help Peter, and she would be able to listen in to his questioning Debra. She might even convince him to let her stay through all of the interviews.
“I would be glad to help,” she offered.
“Very well,” Greg said and turned to Margot. “But Margot, please make sure he doesn’t brow beat my wife. Debra’s been through enough.”
“I will,” Margot promised. She scooted over to Peter and took his arm. “Come along, Peter. Time’s wasting, and we must get justice for poor Mr. Patterson.”
Peter removed Odds from his shoulder and carried him to the apartment across the hall. He placed the cat on the floor and then produced keys from his pocket. After unlocking the door, he stood aside to let them pass.
“Are those Coley’s keys?” Debra asked with interest.
“No, actually. I made arrangements with the owner for a copy to be sent to the station while we’re investigating. The owner of the building, a Mr. Robert Cunningham, sent them over without any problem.”
“You
met
him?” Debra asked round-eyed.
Peter frowned. “I met his assistant.”
“Oh.” She seemed disappointed. Margot was starting to feel disappointed herself. The indifferent owner didn’t even appear after learning his long-time employee had been killed. For shame.
“He’s rich,” Debra explained, as if she had picked up on Margot’s musings. “This building is just one of many all over the city. All he cares about is getting the rents in, and that’s why he kept Coley. He was good at it.”
“Is that so?” Peter flipped his notebook open. “Did he ever threaten you?”
“No, of course not. Greg and I always paid on time.”
“She’s so lying. Look at those hands twist.”
“Shh,” Margot said. Both Peter and Debra glanced at her, and she tried to change the shushing into a sneeze, which didn’t sound likely.
“Why did you accuse Jimmy Barber of murdering Mr. Patterson?” Peter asked.
“Because I saw him that night.”
“
Which
night?”
“The night Coley was killed.”
Peter shut his notebook and folded both arms across his chest. “That’s interesting, Mrs. Armitage. Tell me, how do you know which night the victim died unless you were there and saw it?”
She gaped in horror. “I…” Her hands twisted faster. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door, and Peter moved between her and it. Margot stood there in disbelief. Was she in the same room as a killer?
“She’s not the killer,”
Odds said.
“How—” Margot began but clicked her teeth together.
“Because I saw him go into the basement,” Debra said at last.
“Did you follow him?”
“No! I would never.”
“Never, huh?” Peter scratched his chin. “Mrs. Armitage, I’m a pretty good judge of character and decent at my job. Don’t let the boy next door good looks fool you.”
Odds snorted, and Debra gaped at him. Margot giggled. She liked Peter’s personality.
“I can tell you’re keeping something from me, and we can stand here all day with me asking one question after another to dig it out. Conversely, we can go down to the station. The easiest path, which is what I suggest, is for you to simply tell me everything, even if you don’t think it’s relevant.”
Debra heaved a huge sigh. “All right, but please this can’t get back to Greg.”
Both Margot and Peter went still. What could she be about to confess, Margot wondered? Such a sweet young couple, Debra shouldn’t keep anything from her husband and vice versa. Margot was already disappointed to learn they were less than perfect in their relationship, but such was life.
“I leave my apartment each night when Greg falls asleep,” Debra said.
“And he doesn’t hear you or miss you while you’re gone?” Peter asked.
“How?” Margot blurted. “I’m a light sleeper myself, and everything disturbs me. That’s originally why Lou and I had separate rooms. He snored something awful. Couldn’t get a wink of shut eye.”
Peter’s expression at last penetrated Margot’s diatribe, and she fell silent.
“Mrs. Armitage?” Peter prompted.
“No, Greg doesn’t hear me when I leave. He has trouble sleeping, so he takes an herbal medicine. It does the trick pretty well.”
“And where do you go on your nightly trips?”
She said nothing.
“Mrs. Armitage?”
“To Coley, okay? That’s where I was going for the last few months, but I didn’t kill him!”
“
To
Coley?” Margot repeated, confused. “What do you mean to him, Debra?”
“Just like I said.” Her voice began to rise, and Margot worried any second the others would hear.
Peter seemed to think so too because he said, “Calm down, Mrs. Armitage, unless you want your husband in this interview.”
Her teeth clicked together. She pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m relieved in a way to have it out in the opening.”
“Let me be sure I have this straight.” Peter consulted his notes. “You were seeing Coley Patterson as a lover?”
Her cheeks pinked. “Not at first. I was just being nice to him, hoping he would give us the apartment. He sat around drinking most of the time. Occasionally, he would call a repairman. The job wasn’t hard. He led me to believe it was a matter of time. He didn’t care about the apartment, said he was just using it to relax in and get away from the noise on the first floor, but it was too roomy, as if that’s possible. He said he had to figure out how to move Greg and I ahead of Zabrina.”
“But he didn’t move out of the apartment. He led you on. So you killed him.”
“No!”
“Maybe he threatened to tell your husband?” Peter suggested.
“No, no.” She sniffed, and Margot moved beside her to hug her.
“Peter, dear, you promised not to abuse the witness.”
Odds snickered.
“The word was
brutalize
, and that’s not what I’m doing.” He looked at Debra, and she glared at him.
“He wanted to keep it up, so he definitely wouldn’t tell Greg! That would end it.”
Peter seemed unconvinced. “Did you accuse Mr. Barber to keep us from finding out about you and Mr. Patterson?”
“No. Like I said, I saw Jimmy go into the basement pretty often, and that night he went down there. I
think
it was the night he killed Coley because when I went up to Coley’s apartment, he wasn’t there. He didn’t answer my call, and I never heard from him after that.”