"Follow the thought out," she told herself. Maybe Jennifer hadn't found it in the office, had gotten desperate and looked through the rest of the house. It still didn't explain why it was such a mess; it would take more time to search neatly but Jennifer had time.
So what if she
did
find it - and it didn't say what she thought it had. Maybe she hadn't even read it before she signed it, she'd just taken Dad's word about what was in it. Maybe she found out she didn't get much if she divorced him, but she'd inherit a ton if he died. Especially if they'd been married at least one year. Maybe she thought if she destroyed it she'd get everything; but that was stupid, Dad's lawyer would have a copy, Dad would have seen to that. It still didn't explain the mess.
In any case, Jennifer had been home at 3:00 when Dad had been shot. She'd been on the phone with 911 and talking to the police a little later. She had an iron-clad alibi, she couldn't possibly have shot him. That was a relief to Gracie. Although she didn't like Jennifer, she didn't want to think she was capable of cold-blooded murder.
That left Cindy. Maybe Cindy shot him so Jennifer would have an alibi.
That
could explain the mess, Jennifer set herself up. But she
really
couldn't see Cindy as a murder. Murderess? What was it Lieutenant Freeman had said? Something about Cindy showing up shortly after the police had come to investigate the break-in, and that he doubted she'd have had time to drive across town. Well, the police would check that out, but it seemed like Cindy was in the clear, too.
If the burglary and murder were connected, who did that leave? Her mother wouldn't need to break in to find anything, she kept copies of the divorce decree in her desk, Gracie had seen them. Something to do with a client who thought Dad had cheated him? Nah, they'd break into Dad's office downtown.
Gracie tried to remember what everyone had said earlier tonight. She went down the guest list in her mind. Then it hit her - Aunt Jeanine! She'd complained that Dad hadn't treated her like family because he wouldn't give her a loan.
She remembered the scene at the party. Dad and Aunt Jeanine had had a loud argument about the loan. Dad had said some pretty ugly things and Aunt Jeanine had begged. No, wait. Aunt Jeanine had begged
Jennifer
to talk to Dad, but that was later on. Dad had refused to loan her the money, but he'd told her
"you're in my will"
.
Had Aunt Jeanine broken in to find the will? That made a little more sense, she wouldn't have bothered to be careful in her search. And she'd
certainly
have taken the cash Dad kept in his desk drawer. Wouldn't her car have been seen? Maybe the neighbors didn't pay any attention because they knew it "belonged" at the house.
What had her alibi been? Gracie remembered the lieutenant had had to drag it out of her in bits and pieces, Aunt Jeanine never could tell a story so it made sense. Oh, yeah. She'd done laundry in the morning and played bingo all afternoon. Well, that wouldn't surprise her. It wouldn't be easy to check out, though.
Perhaps Aunt Jeanine had found Dad's will, and learned that either she wasn't in it or that she didn't get very much. That would certainly have made her mad! But mad enough to shoot him? Gracie just couldn't see that. Besides, it would have required her aunt to
do
something for herself, and she did as little as she could. That was the biggest reason she never got the things she wanted, because she wasn't willing to make any effort on her own behalf. Aunt Jeanine might be ditzy enough to think there was only one copy of the will and that the money would be split among family if it couldn't be found, though.
Even if Aunt Jeanine had discovered she inherited a big chunk of change, she'd just spin fantasies about how she was gonna spend it all. Gracie had heard it all before; "when I win the lottery", followed by a list of purchases: car, house, jewelry, plastic surgery and liposuction, and then a new wardrobe. In spite of her faults Aunt Jeanine was basically a good person; she could twist the truth in her own favor but she couldn't lie, it just wasn't in her nature. Neither was murder.
So maybe the burglary
was
a coincidence after all. Some junkie looking for things he could sell so he could buy drugs. It seemed odd that he'd only hit
Dad's
house and none of the others in the neighborhood. Surely the police would've known by now if several houses in the area had been robbed. It also seemed funny that a junkie would've left Justin's marijuana; free dope would've been a little extra bonus. Hadn't he stolen pills out of the medicine cabinet?
Gracie gave up and decided to go to bed. Maybe it would all make better sense in the morning.
Gracie was sitting in class Wednesday morning during first hour when an aide stuck her head in the door and briefly conferred with the teacher.
"Gracie?" Mr. Jackson turned to look at her. "Would you get your books and go with the aide, please?"
Gracie closed her notebook and piled the textbooks on top. She picked everything up and walked to the door.
"What's going on, now?"
she asked herself. The aide just smiled at her as they walked out the door and down the hallway.
"Where are we going?" Gracie asked her.
"Mrs. Baker wants to see you," she said without giving any further details.
"Great, now I know how my brother feels. Except that Justin doesn't
care
when he's sent to the principal," Gracie muttered to herself.
Gracie was nervous when she was ushered into the inner sanctum. So much had happened yesterday, she was afraid maybe there was more bad news. But Mrs. Baker just smiled and gestured for her to take a seat.
"Gracie, I am so very sorry to hear about your father's death," Mrs. Baker said. "You must be terribly upset."
"Thank you," Gracie replied. "I
am
upset, but more confused. I just don't know who could've done it, or
why
."
"The police don't have a suspect yet?" Mrs. Baker asked.
"No Ma'am," Gracie said.
"Well, these things take time. I was surprised to see you were in class today, I'd expected you would stay home."
"I'd rather be here," Gracie told her. "If I stayed home I'd just drive myself crazy trying to figure it all out. School gives me something else to think about. It's OK, isn't it?"
"It's fine, if that's what you want. If you change your mind just let us know, and we'll understand," Mrs. Baker said.
"OK, thanks. Uh, can I go back to class now?" Gracie asked.
* * * *
At 9:00 AM sharp Ken Freeman walked into the Wilkins Insurance Agency offices. Although technically it was evidence in a murder investigation, he felt that the victim's briefcase - and the contents thereof - should be turned over to the man's boss. The secretary pointed him to Mr. Wilkins' office.
"Gerald Wilkins?" he asked as he stepped inside the door. "I'm Lieutenant Ken Freeman, Homicide."
Jerry stood up and shook hands with the officer. "Call me 'Jerry'," he said jovially. "Homicide did you say? How can I help you?" He seemed a little confused. "We're a full-service agency here, includin' life insurance. Are you wantin' info on a policy-holder? That's private information, I'm not sure we can tell you, say, who the beneficiary is."
"No, it's not that," Ken said. "I understand that Charles Greene worked here as one of your agents." It was not a question.
"Charles, sure!" Jerry said affably. "My top salesman. He hasn't come in yet this morning, probably out seeing clients. He should be in after while, I expect."
"I'm afraid," said Ken, "that Mr. Greene was murdered yesterday afternoon."
"
Murdered?"
Jerry said, stunned.
"Yes, Sir. Mr. Bixby's staff found the body around 4 PM yesterday, just outside the gates of the mansion. Did he perhaps stop to call and tell you Mr. Bixby had indeed signed the contracts?"
Jerry sat back down in his chair, looking like he wasn't even aware he was doing so. "Well, I'm sure glad to hear that.
Not
that it seems terribly important at the moment. I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I'm so rattled I'm forgetting my manners. Please, have a seat." He gestured to a chair in front of his desk.
Ken sat down, with the briefcase resting across his lap.
"I haven't heard from Charles since he left yesterday," he said. "To tell you the truth I was a little surprised. The Bixby contract was a big deal to us, and I really expected Charles to come in whoopin' and hollerin' about it. Kinda made me wonder if the old man hadn't signed after all. But, no, he didn't call me."
Ken laid the briefcase on the desk in front of him. "We found Mr. Greene's briefcase in his car. I thought you should have it, knew you'd need the paperwork; though I should tell you that I've photocopied everything just in case. Can you tell me if anything's missing? Or if there's something there that shouldn't be?"
Jerry took the case somewhat gingerly, as if it might bite. He opened it and pulled out the papers, spread them out on the desk and mumbled to himself as he checked them off against some mental list. Finally he looked up and said, "Everything looks in order, far as I can tell. A copy of the presentation, the contracts, his itinerary, some notes on other clients. Thank you very much, Lieutenant, for letting me have these. But it wasn't Charles' car."
"What?" Ken asked in mild shock. He pulled out his notebook for the details. "A gray 2007 Jaguar XJS, license number LJS…"
"4328," Jerry finished, in unison with Ken. "It's
my
car. Something happened to break the back window of his car yesterday, so he borrowed mine." Jerry smiled a little sarcastically. "Charles thought imitation would be flattering to me, so he bought a Jag that looked just like mine. 'Cept his was a year newer."
"So where's Mr. Greene's car?" Ken asked.
"Guess it's still in the parking garage across the street," Jerry said. "I had to call my wife to take me home last night."
"So he stopped here to borrow your car before going to Bixby's?"
"No, Sir. He came in to talk about the pending contract, I guess. You know, let me know he was about to go meet the man. He seemed pretty wound up, guess he was a mite nervous, this was a pretty big sale." Jerry stopped to remember the details.
"But he left the office and then came back a few minutes later yellin' about his car. Said the back window was broken and the alarm was going off. I asked if anything was missing but he said 'no'. I told him he should report it to the police, but he was in a hurry, said he'd do it when he got back," Jerry explained.
"I will definitely check on that next!" Ken said.
The two men continued to talk for several minutes. Jerry had been in the office all day, but it wasn't unusual for Mr. Greene to be out. Ken learned that Greene was, in Jerry's words, "a high-pressure salesman", and a man who always "liked to win". Jerry didn't know of any enemies, but it was clear he thought Greene had probably rubbed many people the wrong way.
Just as Ken was about to leave another man stuck his head in the door.
"Hey Jerry, have you got the numbers on the Thompson account?"
"Yeah, just a minute," Jerry replied. "Jack, this is Lieutenant Freeman," he said indicating Ken.
Jack stuck a half-eaten powdered sugar donut between a finger and the coffee cup in his left hand so he could free up his right to shake. "Jack Dunbar, nice to meet you," he said.
Jack was a little man with a pronounced slouch, a pasty face, and he sported an obvious comb-over of graying dark hair. Ken introduced himself and explained why he was there.
Jack rocked back on his heels in surprise at the news. "Well! I can't say that I liked him very much, but I'm sorry to hear he's dead."
"Why didn't you like him?" Ken asked.
"Oh, well, he thought he was a real hot-shot," Jack replied diffidently. "He was always bragging and putting me down."
"That seems pretty vague," Ken commented.
"Well, how's this?" he asked with a little irritation. "The guy stole some of my clients. I don't know if he went through my desk or what, but more than once I'd call on a renewal and find Charles had already talked to them."
Having said that Jack seemed to deflate, as if the accusation was enough to satisfy him. "I can't prove it, of course," he ended a bit lamely.
After what he'd already learned about the victim, Ken wasn't surprised to hear about inter-office rivalries. Greene was apparently a jerk, but so far he hadn't heard anything specific that would make a good motive.
He thanked the men for their time and left Jerry's office. He stopped to talk to the secretary for a minute. She confirmed Jerry had been in the office all day yesterday, but the salesmen were in and out and thus difficult to keep track of. She did remember Charles' ruckus over his car, said he'd finally left a little after 1:00 pm.
After a little thought she also remembered Jack had been in the office during the afternoon. She'd just been leaving her desk for a break when he'd insisted she make some copies for him first. She was vague about the exact time, but it was around 3 PM. Ken figured that was close enough, Dunbar hadn't shot his co-worker over stolen clients.
* * * *
Jeanine breezed into the grocery store's small office, looking for her manager. She spied him at a desk, working on a computer and flipping through a large stack of papers to find the one he currently needed.
"I gotta talk to you, Tony," she said without preamble.
Tony looked up from the computer screen, swiveled his head to glance at the clock, then turned back to her. "You're late! Your shift started thirty minutes ago – and you're not even in uniform."
"You gotta do something for me," Jeanine began.
Tony interrupted with, "People who want favors generally begin their request with the word 'please'."
"I
said
'please'," Jeanine declared much to his surprise. "I need to take the week off."
"No," Tony said succinctly.
"But it's bereavement, the law says you gotta give it to me," Jeanine told him.
"Bereavement?" Tony asked. "What happened, your grandmother die again?"
"My
brother
! Didn't you read the papers this morning? Oh, Jeez, it was awful – he was
murdered
yesterday," Jeanine said very emotionally.
"Jeanine, I'm sorry," Tony said kindly. "No, I don't read the paper, I hadn't heard. What happened?"
"Someone
shot
him," she said dramatically. "Right through the heart. Around 3:00. I'm so upset, I just can't work right now. Got to help his kids with the funeral and all that. So you see, there's just no way I can come to work this week, I gotta have it off."
"How
horrible
," he responded. "Do the police have any suspects?"
"They talked to us all last night. You know, 'did he have any enemies' and 'where were you yesterday afternoon', that sort of thing. Like they thought I might've done it!"
"They have to ask those questions. They'll figure it out eventually. When's the funeral?" he asked.
"Don't know yet, he won't let us have it," she said somewhat cryptically.
"
Who
won't let you have
what
?" Tony asked with some exasperation.
"The
body
," she replied.
"You mean the coroner won't release the body yet."
Jeanine merely nodded as if he were an idiot who needed everything spelled out.
"Well, let me know as soon as the funeral's set and you can take that day off. But you know we're short-handed right now, there's no one to cover your shift. So you need to get out there and get to work right now." Tony told her.