Halfway to Half Way (23 page)

 

 

"Using Jarek as
her
alibi." Marlin snuffed out his cigarette. "Guilty or not, those two deserve each other. She leeched off Bev. Jarek leeches off her. Deduct the bills from the estate, and they may hit us up for gas money to get back to California."

 

 

David would give it to them, too, if they signed an affidavit saying they'd never step foot in Kinderhook County again. "Want me to start on Bev's telephone records? Luke isn't meeting me at the office for another half hour or so."

 

 

Phelps said, "Ma Bell is experiencing a system upgrade. No records available till late tonight, possibly tomorrow."

 

 

Bev had canceled cell phone service and landline Caller ID about the time she pawned her jewelry. Either one would have supplied contact info. Punching star 69 on her home phone at the scene had connected with Glo-Brite Dry Cleaners, but no date or time the call was initiated.

 

 

David rolled his eyes. "What ever did we do before computers were invented?"

 

 

"The same thing I'm gonna do after I reintroduce myself to the wife and eat a home-cooked dinner." Marlin folded his sport coat over his arm. "Meet you at the Beauford house about five o'clock and see if we missed anything."

 

 

He shoved the accordion file under his arm. "Look, I don't want it to be Bev's daughter. For a lot of reasons. But strangulation is personal. Kimmie Sue's got a major sense of entitlement. If she popped the question about the house and Bev told her about the mortgages…"

 

 

"I know." David grimaced. "The capability's there. It's the culpability I want sewn tight."

 

 

"That's why I'm recanvassing the neighbors," Phelps said, less than enthusiastically. "Marlin's convinced somebody saw something, besides the stoner who thinks maybe there was a white car in the driveway sometime that week."

 

 

"Aka Bev's sedan. I want a Jeep." Marlin caught the phone in mid-ring. "Yo, Andrik." He looked at David. "Lemme see if he's here." Receiver clapped to his shoulder, he said, "Chase Wingate's on hold, asking after the statement for next week's paper."

 

 

"He'll get it tomorrow, like I told him."

 

 

Marlin relayed the message. "Oh, really? Hang on." Receiver muffled again, he said, "Wingate's also e-mailing Jessup Knox's remarks about the homicide, in case you care to respond."

 

 

"Nope." David made a mental note to delete the e-mail without reading it. With advance notice, Chase knew he would. Darned decent of him to give it.

 

 

"How about letting Wingate quote me? 'Marlin Andrik, chief of detectives, suggested that Elvis stick his head up his ass and sneeze.'"

 

 

David laughed. "Thanks, but no thanks."

 

 

"You sure?" Marlin shrugged. "I'll save it till after the election. And say it to his face."

 

 

Assuming I win, David thought. Or maybe not. Even Elvis wasn't stupid enough to fire Marlin.

 

 

 

13

F
rom the great room, Hannah heard IdaClare say, "I wish I could, Rosemary. Tomorrow is Jack's birthday and he'll be here by ten." A derisive snort, then, "Though it'd serve him right to spoil the surprise and be gone."

 

 

IdaClare looked at the doorway as Hannah walked through it. "Oh,
there
you are, dear. We were beginning to think we'd have to go on without you."

 

 

"Been trying to," Delbert grumbled, "for the past half an hour."

 

 

"Is everything all right?" Rosemary asked.

 

 

"Everything's fine and dandy," Hannah said. Which was true, now that Madame Rue, the supposed psychic medium who leased office space above Oliver's Apothecary on Main Street, had been evicted for an unauthorized séance. What began as a group reading had turned into something of a riot, with Mme. Rue the target of multiple deadly pocketbooks.

 

 

Doc Pennington had sedated the woman who was told that her beloved grandfather was a vicious horse thief and a hired gun, then revived the two participants who'd fainted, and dispensed cold compresses to the bruised.

 

 

Just another day in the neighborhood, Hannah thought, pulling on a cardigan and accepting the coffee and apple cobbler Marge offered her.

 

 

"I thought Jack had to be in Michigan tomorrow," she said to IdaClare.

 

 

"He fibbed so I couldn't throw him a surprise party. I called his pilot to ask if the jet was available, in case my friend in Tucson had surgery in the morning." IdaClare chuckled. "Just as I suspected, the plane's free till next Tuesday."

 

 

"I'll keep Itsy and Bitsy if you need to go," Marge said.

 

 

"That's sweet of you, but I don't have any friends in Tucson." IdaClare waggled her penciled eyebrows. "That boy thinks if he whispered in my ear, he'd hear an echo."

 

 

"Nah," Delbert said. "It'd blow out the other side."

 

 

Dipping into her cobbler, Hannah asked, "Have I missed anything interesting?"

 

 

"No," Delbert said emphatically.

 

 

Rosemary fingered a pixie-cut sideburn. "IdaClare and I got a shampoo and set at the Curl-Up & Dye this afternoon. The gossip about Beverly Beauford was thicker than the hairspray."

 

 

"Dixie Jo Gage thinks Cesar Montenegro did it," IdaClare said. "Everybody in town knew he had a crush on Mrs. Beauford, even before her husband died."

 

 

Hannah wondered if "everybody" included David and Marlin Andrik. By now, the latter had tattled to the former about her visit to the Outhouse. A tip about Cesar Montenegro might shorten another rant about running with the wrong crowd of senior citizens.

 

 

Rosemary said, "Cesar owns Aunt Chiladas and delivered take-out orders to Mrs. Beauford personally…if you know what I mean. Then a couple of weeks ago, she stopped ordering, but he kept going to her house, anyway."

 

 

"You know what they say about Latin men," IdaClare intoned. "Hot-blooded and hot-tempered."

 

 

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Delbert howled. "Can we—"

 

 

Marge shuddered. "He's also fat, smells like taco grease and smokes those big, stinky cigars.
Ick.
"

 

 

"Maybe that was the attraction," Rosemary said. "Larry Beauford was fat and smoked cigars, too, and Beverly must have been lonely. When she came to her senses and dumped Cesar, he was furious."

 

 

"The crime of passion, it would be," Leo mused. "Many of those there are, sad to say."

 

 

"Well,
I
think the woman was…" IdaClare paused, as though amending a harsher adjective. "A flake. Dixie Jo told me in confidence that Beverly begged her for a loan to go to cosmetology school. Then she was going to have a huge garage sale to pay her tuition. Next anyone knew, she'd up and donated everything to charity and was bragging about taking a cruise."

 

 

Hannah recalled the travel guide checked out from the library on Marlin's desk. Cash-strapped widow sails away from stalker plying her with free quesadillas? Consider the source, she warned herself. The Curl-Up & Dye's owner and clientele made supermarket tabloids look unimpeachable.

 

 

Delbert sneered, "Those gabby old hens are fulla bull. The likeliest scenario is a parolee from the Big House was after Sheriff Beauford for sending him up the river. When he found out Beauford had already kicked the bucket, he killed his widow, instead."

 

 

"Hey, I saw that movie." Marge snapped her fingers repeatedly. "The title's right on the tip of—"

 

 

"Leave it there."

 

 

"No, no. It was something like…"

 

 

Delbert commanded, "Zip it, and start taking notes. This meeting's about Code Name: Epsilon and by God, I'm calling it to order."

 

 

Rosemary's arm shot up. Leo whimpered at her bosom's tectonic shift. Ach, such a boob man, he was. "Question, please."

 

 

After Delbert confirmed it was pertinent, she inquired, "If the 'hens' at the beauty shop are 'full' of 'bull,' why did you send us there for gossip about Chlorine Moody?"

 

 

"Because," he replied, drawing it out, as if the answer were as elusive as Marge's movie title. "The truth is, a Sub Rosa Team Reconnaissance Deposition is tricky, and you and IdaClare are the best SRTRD operatives I've got."

 

 

"Really?" IdaClare blushed and touched three fingertips to her chin. "Why, Delbert, how sweet of you to say so."

 

 

Hannah and Marge looked at each other. They silently agreed that if the old fart put his mind to it, he could sell an extension ladder to a giraffe.

 

 

Rosemary was also smitten with her newfound status. "There are some ugly rumors floating around about Chlorine."

 

 

"Not a whisper about her doing away with her husband, though," IdaClare remarked. "But everyone was shocked that she refused to hire an attorney or post her son's bail, after the sheriff arrested him."

 

 

Rosemary's hand pantomimed a bird's beak. "Cheap, cheap, cheap," she cheeped.

 

 

"Mean, is more like it," IdaClare said. "What choice did Rudy have but to plead guilty to the charges against him?"

 

 

Not much, Hannah thought. Rudy had been caught with a cache of illegal guns, days after David confiscated Rudy's sidearm for accidentally shooting out a florist's plateglass window.

 

 

Even before that, the unpaid reserve deputy hadn't had a future as a full-fledged law enforcement officer, regardless of how much patrol duty he assigned himself, or how many crime scenes he intruded on.

 

 

The spoon clinked in Hannah's spotless bowl as she set it on the bar. "I was there when Rudy confessed to every charge against him. He could have recanted and pled not guilty, but that usually doesn't work out real well."

 

 

"Rudy always was a brown-nosed, mealy-mouthed little shit," Rosemary said. Evidently noticing the sudden stillness in the room, she chuckled and waved a sheet of notepaper. "The manicurist's opinion, not mine. She also said Sheriff Beauford took Rudy fishing and riding around in the squad car when he was a kid, but Rudy and Chlorine were conspicuously and
unforgivably
absent at Beauford's funeral."

 

 

"That's a small town for you." Marge shook her head. "After my brother died, Mom never spoke to one of her closest friends again because she thought Linda hadn't attended the funeral. She
had,
but Mom was so grief-stricken that the whole day was a blur. She insisted if Linda was there, her name would have been in the guest book."

 

 

IdaClare polished her slender gold wedding band with her thumb. "More than four hundred people signed the book at Patrick's service. I felt guilty for not recognizing some names, took comfort in the familiar ones…and was hurt by the few I expected to see, and didn't."

 

 

A wistful smile, then, "It's silly that paying respects doesn't count if your name's not in the book. But to this day, I could tell you who they were, and I never quite believed them when they said they just neglected to sign it."

 

 

Delbert had the grace to pause several beats, then pointed at Hannah. "Okay, ladybug. Get to making your report, before we're all humming 'Weeping, Sad and Lonely.'"

 

 

In unison, IdaClare and Rosemary protested that they weren't finished with their report. Startled, Leo jumped in his chair and blurted, "Amen."

 

 

Delbert ignored his crack operatives' incoming glares and aimed an outgoing one at Leo. "Criminit-lies, Schnur. You sacked out all afternoon."

 

 

"But so tired, I am from the—"

 

 

"Heat," Delbert inserted.

 

 

Rosemary felt Leo's brow. "I told you it was too hot to play golf today, but would you listen?"

 

 

Hannah shot Delbert an "Oh, yeah?" look. He twirled a finger at his temple and nodded at Leo.

 

 

"No fever, but—" Rosemary squinted at her palm, sniffed it, then recoiled. "Why'd you put Bengay on your
head?
"

 

 

Delbert slapped the table. "All right, that's
it.
Chlorine Moody's got away with murder for this long, hell with it. Motion to adjourn—the meeting, the case, the whole goddamn ball of wax."

 

 

Hannah took the ultimatum as a variation on the ever-popular relationship Waterloo: "If you walk out that door, I won't be here when you come back." It assumed the walker truly intended to leave, and if so, had any intention of returning. In her experience, it further assumed the party staying put won't say, "Promise?" and summon the doorman to speed up the walker's departure.

 

 

True to form, Marge, IdaClare and Rosemary traded
Delbert's just bluffing
looks. Contrary to form, the gumshoes' female majority visually agreed to call him on it.

 

 

IdaClare gestured a willingness—not to mention, eagerness—to do the honors. With a snarky smirk, she said, "Motion—"

 

 

"Fails for lack of a second," Hannah finished.

 

 

"But that's what I was—"

 

 

"You guys voted me in as the moderator," Hannah reminded them. "I'm moderating." An eyebrow crimped in a decidedly authoritative manner. "Any objections?"

 

 

IdaClare's huff implied a major one, but none were vocalized.

 

 

"Excellent. Now, Delbert, stop pouting. Leo, drink your coffee and pretend it isn't decaf. Marge, get your pencil ready. Rosemary and IdaClare, do you have any specifics to tell us that date back to the time of Royal's disappearance?"