Authors: Parnell Hall
There was a light on in the Brooks house, but the car was gone.
“They’re not here,” Harper growled.
Dennis, who’d sobered up some at the threat of jail, said, “He’s in the city. She’s home.”
“She better be.” Harper jerked Dennis out of the car.
Cora screeched to a stop behind the cruiser. “Where are they?” she demanded.
“Hubby’s out. She’s home.”
“Says who?”
“Says him.”
“Wonderful,” Cora said sarcastically. “You can take that to the bank.”
Dennis stumbled on the front steps, couldn’t put his arms out to break his fall. Harper pulled him to his feet. “Can’t you take these off?”
“Show me the witness.”
“We’re
here
.”
“I didn’t say show me the
house
.”
Harper rang the doorbell. There was no answer. He rang again. Waited. Pounded on the door.
Headlights came up the driveway. A car door slammed.
George Brooks got out. He wore a suit. His shirt was open at the neck, and his tie was off. He scowled at the people on the porch. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Brooks?”
“Yes?”
“Chief Harper. Bakerhaven Police.”
“I know who you are. My neighbor’s dead. You talked to me before.”
“We have some questions for your wife.”
“Juliet is not well. You have questions, you can ask me.”
“That would not be satisfactory.”
“Well, that’s how it’s going to be.”
Cora pushed forward. “Fine, Mr. Brooks. We’ll ask you. Did you happen to see anyone in Mr. Overmeyer’s cabin the night he was murdered?”
Brooks frowned. “What?”
“It’s a simple question. Either you did or you didn’t.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Cora nodded. “Yeah. That’s why we have to ask your wife.”
“My wife knows nothing about it.”
“She told him she does.”
Cora pointed at Dennis. Unfortunately, he had chosen that moment to relapse into the mindless grin of the hopelessly inebriated.
“
He
spoke to my wife?” Brooks said incredulously.
“He was sober at the time,” Cora explained. “At least, relatively.”
“Mr. Brooks,” Chief Harper said, “I don’t mean to cause you any trouble, but this is a murder case. Your wife is apparently a witness. I’m sorry if her health is frail, but I need to talk to her.”
“Her health is
not
frail. Her mind is . . . Well, I don’t see how she could possibly be a witness.”
“She has mental problems?”
“She has problems with perception. She couldn’t be a witness. I wouldn’t let her. It would be cruel.”
“We’re not talking about taking the witness stand. We’re just talking about telling what she knows.”
“I doubt she knows anything useful.”
“Would she have told you if she did?” Cora asked.
“That’s not the point. She might have said anything, and it might not mean anything. I can’t have you disturbing her.”
Chief Harper said, “I’m sorry, but we have to insist.”
Brooks bit his lip. “You’re not all going in. You’ll scare her, and you won’t get anything out of her.”
“Okay, just me,” Harper said.
Brooks shook his head. “No.” He pointed at Cora. “Just her.”
“She’s not a policewoman.”
“No, but she’s a woman. She won’t scare her.” He looked at Cora. “Will you?”
“Of course not,” Cora said. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“This is most irregular,” Harper said.
“It certainly is,” Cora told him. “See if you can handle your drunk and disorderly. I’ll take it from here.”
Brooks unlocked the front door, ushered Cora in.
“Honey,” he called.
There was no answer.
“She’s probably gone to bed.”
“She doesn’t wait up for you to come home?”
“Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t. If she’s asleep, we’re not waking her.”
Cora grunted noncommittally. If Mrs. Brooks was asleep, Cora was using the bed as a trampoline until Sleeping Beauty bounced out of it.
“Where’s the bedroom?”
“Upstairs.”
Brooks led Cora up a long wooden stairway. On the landing above, he stopped in front of the bedroom door.
“Now then,” he warned, “if she’s asleep . . .”
Mrs. Brooks was not asleep. She was lying on her back with her head lolled over the edge of the bed at a grotesque angle.
Her throat had been cut.
Cora tackled Brooks, pushed him back toward the door. “Don’t touch anything! You can’t help her! Get out of here! Now! Or I’ll push you down the stairs!”
In a daze, Brooks allowed himself to be led out the front door.
On the porch, Harper was riding herd over Dennis, who had passed out in a lawn chair.
“It’s a crime scene!” Cora said. “Call Barney!”
“What?”
“She’s dead in the upstairs bedroom. It’s a homicide. Her throat’s cut. Call your men. I’ll hold off the grieving husband and the criminally negligent drunk.”
Harper turned to glare at Dennis. “Try not to kill him before I get back.”
“It may be hard. Go.”
Harper hurried to his car.
Cora whirled around, slapped Dennis across the face.
He moaned, opened his eyes.
She slapped him again.
He jerked away. “Hey!”
Cora glanced over her shoulder.
Brooks had collapsed into a porch chair, his head in his hands.
She pulled Dennis toward her, leaned into his face, lowered her voice. “All right, wise guy. You got a woman killed. When her husband finds out, he’s going to beat you senseless. That’s him right there. So keep your voice down, tell me what I want to know, or I’m going to tell him who you are.”
Dennis Pride was suffering one of the worst blackout drunks of his life. He blinked, uncomprehending, trying to clear the cobwebs. “Huh?”
Cora slapped him across the face. “The right answer is yes. Are you gonna cooperate?”
“I don’t know what—”
Cora slapped him again. His eyes teared. “Are you going to cooperate?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Your mystery witness. The one you bragged about on TV. What did she tell you?”
“She saw the killer.”
“What did he look like?”
“Don’t know.”
“
You
don’t know, or
she
didn’t know?”
“Huh?”
Cora slapped him again.
Chief Harper came up the steps. “Hey! What are you doing?”
“Dennis claims Mrs. Brooks saw the killer, but he can’t describe him.”
“The killer is a him?”
“We don’t even know that, do we, Dennis?”
“Huh?”
Cora raised her hand.
Chief Harper grabbed her wrist. “Easy. I’ll take it from here. Dennis, what did the woman tell you?”
Dennis blinked. His eyes glazed over.
Harper threw him back in the chair with disgust. “I gotta see the crime scene. Stay here. Don’t question him. Or the husband. Make sure no one leaves. Don’t let anyone upstairs except Barney and my boys.”
Harper went inside before Cora could protest.
A police car pulled up and Sam Brogan got out. Bakerhaven’s crankiest officer must have been patrolling nearby to have gotten there so fast. He stroked his mustache, popped his gum.
“What have we got?”
“It’s a homicide. The chief’s upstairs at the crime scene.”
He jerked his thumb at Brooks. “That the perp?”
“That’s the husband.”
Sam’s shrug was eloquent. “Is that a yes?”
“Sam.”
Sam gave Brooks a look and went in.
Cora sighed and sat down to wait for the others.
Dan Finley beat Barney Nathan by a car length. No doubt the doctor would have been first had he not stopped to tie his bow tie. Cora couldn’t remember ever seeing him without it.
“Where’s the chief?” Dan Finley asked.
Cora sprang up to head him off. “He’s upstairs. He wants you to secure the crime scene, make sure no one gets in and these two don’t leave. You got crime scene tape?”
“In the car.”
“Get it. I’ll take the doc upstairs.”
Cora hustled Barney Nathan up to the bedroom, where Sam Brogan was already snapping photos.
Harper rose from the body. “Pronounce her, Barney, so we can get on with it.”
“She’s dead. Go to it.”
“Aren’t you going to examine her?”
“Her throat’s cut. You can’t live with your throat cut. I could have pronounced her on the phone.”
“Doc,” Harper warned, rolling his eyes toward Cora.
Barney waved it away. “You’re not going to give me trouble over that, are you, Cora? I’m sure you’ll find something much worse.”
“You want to give me a time of death, Barney?”
“Now that’s the type of thing she’ll nail me on. Well, it’s gotta be within the last couple of hours. I’ll pin it down with the body temperature when I get her back to the morgue.”
Cora said, “You wouldn’t say it was within the last half hour?”
Barney frowned. “Why?”
Harper said, “You happen to see the evening news?”
“Oh.” Barney looked at his watch. Frowned. “That would be cutting it thin. That’s what you mean, right? That she was killed because of the broadcast.”
“It’s a nonmedical factor, Barney. Don’t let it influence you.” Harper frowned. “Where the hell is Dan? I called him the same time I called you.” It dawned on him that Cora was in the room. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be watching Dennis.”
“Dan is. He’s stringing the crime scene ribbon. To keep the media out.”
“Media? What media?” Harper’s face darkened. “Go down there, send Dan up. If he tipped off Rick Reed, he’ll wish he hadn’t. The son of a bitch helped kill this woman. Go on. Get.”
Cora reluctantly went back downstairs. Dan Finley had strung the crime scene ribbon and was up on the porch.
“You didn’t call Rick Reed, did you?” Cora asked.
“Why? Because of the interview? He didn’t mention her by name.”
“No, but the killer’d know who he was talking about.”
“It’s not Rick’s fault. He’s just doing his job.”
“Maybe so, but don’t call him.”
“That from you?”
“That’s from the chief. He’s not happy, and there’s no reason to make it worse. Go upstairs, I’ll hold things down here.”
Headlights turned off the main road, and the Channel Eight News van bumped up the drive.
“Dan,” Cora said.
Dan looked defensive. “Well, you could have told me sooner.”
Rick Reed exploded from the van, dashed up on the porch. “Is this it? Where is she?”
Dan grinned sheepishly.
Cora raised a finger. “Easy, Rick.”
“Easy, hell. Is it a murder or not? Where’s Chief Harper?”
“I don’t think you want to be interviewing the chief just now.”
“Why not?”
Cora grimaced. “Rick, you’re one of the dumbest people I ever met, and I married some pretty dumb ones. Your little interview with Dennis here probably
caused
the killing. How do you think the chief feels about that?”
“Oh, come on. I’m not responsible for what people do.” Rick glanced over his shoulder. “You wanna hurry up with that camera?”
The news crew, struggling with the heavy equipment, didn’t look thrilled to be prompted.
“Wanna give me a statement?” Rick asked Cora.
“I do, but you couldn’t use it on the air.”
“How about you, Dan?”
“Not a chance.”
Rick jerked his thumb at Dennis. “Can you wake him up?”
“No.”
Rick smiled. “Don’t be like that. We’re all in this together. Who’s this guy?”
“Leave him alone,” Cora said.
“Who is he?”
“George Brooks. The husband.”
“That’ll do.”
The crew aimed the camera, snapped on the lights.
“I wouldn’t advise it,” Cora said. “The guy’s not going to take too kindly to you.”
“Just doing my job.” Rick cleared his throat. “This is Rick Reed, Channel Eight News, live from Bakerhaven, where tonight this peaceful town was rocked by a savage crime, the murder of—Hell! Cut! What’s her name?”
“Mrs. Brooks.”
“First name?”
“Don’t know.”
Rick glanced dubiously at the husband, decided to let it go. “Okay, take it again. This is Rick Reed, Channel Eight News, coming to you live—”
Before Rick could finish, George Brooks stood up, grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around, and punched him in the mouth.
Chief Harper wrestled George Brooks into the kitchen. Rick Reed had roused the husband from his funk. After being nearly catatonic, the man was livid.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Easy,” Harper said. “Easy.”
“My wife is dead! And then I hear it’s his fault!”
“It’s not his fault.”
“Oh, no? What’s this about an interview?”
“He’s a reporter. They interview people. Sometimes they’re irresponsible.”
“Irresponsible!”
Cora peered over Chief Harper’s shoulder. “Someone killed your wife. That’s who you’re really angry at.”
“I don’t need your amateur psychology!”
“But you need to calm down.” With Chief Harper’s help, Cora managed to guide Brooks into a seat at the kitchen table. “Look here. Whoever did this will not get away with it. I promise you that.”
Brooks blinked.
Cora Felton was decked out in her finest Miss Marple attire, a white blouse and tweed skirt, and she looked as she did in the picture that adorned her Puzzle Lady column, like everyone’s favorite grandmother.
“
You
promise me?”
“I’m tougher than I look, buster. We’re gonna get this guy, but we’re gonna need your help. You need to calm down, answer Chief Harper’s questions, help him do his job.”
Brooks glared at her a moment. Then his lip trembled, and he heaved a huge sigh. “I can’t believe it. I simply can’t believe it.”
“Easy,” Chief Harper said. “I know this is hard, but we have to do it. You think you can answer questions?”
“Yeah.”
“You were gone all day?”
“I was in New York City.”
“On business?”
“I work in New York.”
“What do you do?”
“I work for an insurance company. What difference does it make? How could this happen?”
“What did you do after work?”
“I went out with the guys.”
“Guys from the office?”
“That’s right.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Huh? Oh, have some drinks. Shoot some pool.”
“You didn’t get home until eleven-thirty?”
“That’s not late.”
“You got to the house and found us here?”
“That’s right.”
“And then you went upstairs. With no idea what you would find?”
“Of course not.”
“Your wife was home alone?”
“Yes.”
“She was in her nightgown. What time does she go to bed?”
“When she gets tired.”
“Eleven-thirty wasn’t early for her to go to bed?”
“No. What are you getting at?”
“Just trying to get the general picture. When was the last time you saw your wife alive?”
He shuddered at the question. “When I left for work this morning.”
Cora leaned in. “Did you speak to her during the day?”
He frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just wondering if you did.”
“I called her to say I’d be late.”
“When was that?”
“In the afternoon. I don’t remember what time.”
“Before you went out with the boys?” Cora said.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Hmm.”
Brooks looked at her.
Harper jumped back in. “Does your wife work?”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“She was home all day?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
Brooks moaned slightly. “I didn’t think.”
“Of course not. How could you?”
“Well, the Overmeyer murder might have been a hint,” Cora said dryly.
Brooks glared. So did Chief Harper. Neither man could quite believe she’d said that.
“Sorry,” Cora said. “But we’re tiptoeing around the subject here. Which can only make it worse. Mr. Brooks, can you think of anyone who’d want to harm your wife?”
“Juliet? No. Of course not.”
“Do you think it’s true? What Dennis said? Do you think she did see someone in Overmeyer’s cabin that night?”
Brooks’s shoulders heaved. His anger gave way to despair. He looked completely overwhelmed.
“I have no idea.”