New Year's Eve Murder (9 page)

He returned a minute later. “OK, I want you to follow me to the station house, Mrs. Brooks. Don't try
anything foolish because I've got your license right here.”

“You have no right to that license,” I said, becoming angrier. “I was not involved in an automobile incident.”

“Sorry, ma'am, you gave it to me voluntarily and I'm holding onto it till we settle this at the station.”

“I'll follow you,” I said, “as soon as my baby finishes nursing. Are you afraid I'll flee the scene of the crime?” I knew I was overdoing it but I was really angry. This was a young man, possibly no older than I was, and he was enforcing a code of morality that had probably never been very popular and certainly had never been universal, a code I disagreed with more strongly than I had ever realized.

He went back to his car and pulled up in front of mine. Eddie slowly finished, falling briefly asleep. I put him on my shoulder, aware that the cop was watching in his mirror, and patted his back. Then I took my time and changed him, imagining the officer seething as he waited. When Eddie was in his seat in the back of the car and I was completely dressed again, I started the motor. The idiot in the car ahead actually turned on his flashing lights as he led the way to my moment of truth.

The sergeant sitting behind a raised counter in the small station house in the next town looked like an old bulldog. His head was large, his hair dark and slightly graying, and his big face was lined with a permanent look of droopy sadness. The look intensified when he heard the deputy's complaint and glanced over at me and the baby on my shoulder.

“You sure about this, Kovacs?” he said.

“Yes sir,” Deputy Kovacs said, and quoted the number of an ordinance that I had presumably violated.

“Can I see some identification, ma'am?” the sergeant asked, after apparently thinking things over.

I turned to Deputy Kovacs. “I think you have my driver's license,” I said.

He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to the sergeant. The sergeant looked at it, pulled out a form, and wrote on it. Then he looked down at me. “Here's what we're going to do,” he said. “I'm going to let you go on your own recognizance. You'll be notified of the date for the hearing and the location, and you're required by the laws of New York to show up on that day.”

“May I call my lawyer now?”

“Call anyone you like. Phone's over there.” He pointed to a pair of pay phones on the wall.

I pulled out a bunch of quarters as I sat on the hard
bench, wondering what on earth was wrong with me. Jack had suggested at least twenty times that I get a telephone credit card
in case of emergency
and I had refused every time because of my stupid principles. What principle could possibly be involved in being able to make a phone call from a pay phone? Holding a bunch of quarters in my hand and my baby over my left shoulder, I dialed Arnold's number from memory. He was there and they put him on, my panic subsiding as I heard his voice.

“What's up?”

“I've been arrested, Arnold.” I wasn't sure if that was true or not.

“Where? What for?”

“I'm in the town next to Bladesville. Silverton, I think it's called. I was nursing Eddie in the car, and a deputy came along and said I was exposing myself.”

He made a sound I could not interpret. “You want to get very rich, Chrissie? We'll sue hell out of them. You nursed your baby in one of the three states in this splendid union of ours that expressly permits the nursing of babies in public.”

“Are you sure?” I knew it was a dumb question, but I couldn't believe I could be so lucky.

“Haven't lost all my marbles yet. Let me talk to whoever's in charge there.”

I turned to the sergeant. “Could you talk to my attorney, sergeant?”

He growled slightly and raised himself from his chair, descended from the platform, and picked up the phone. “Sergeant Terence Farley here, town of Silverton. Who am I speaking to?”

It wasn't a long conversation. Deputy Kovacs watched and listened calmly as I sat, my spirits rising. They would have a fine surprise, these two less than well-informed law enforcers.

The sergeant put down the phone, opened a door, and disappeared. It was several minutes before he came back. “Kovacs?” he said, his bulldog face looking very grim.

They had a short, quiet talk and then the sergeant turned to me. “You're free to go, Mrs. Brooks. I apologize for the error.” He went to his desk and tore up the form he had filled out.

Deputy Kovacs left without saying a word. I decided Eddie and I had outstayed our welcome and I followed him.

“He tried to make me feel like a flasher,” I said to Arnold on the phone when we got home. “He used the phrase ‘exposing yourself in public' as if I'd stood in the town square and taken my clothes off.”

“Well, you ought to get a written apology from them. If you don't, I'll hound them a little. You find out anything, or did they pick you up before you could? I don't suppose you went up there to push your baby carriage in the snow.”

I told him about my conversation with Dawn D'Agati.

“So we have a first name for the deceased. Never heard it from the cops up there. They must be all tied up arresting nursing mothers.”

“Dawn said the police came by and talked to her husband. He probably didn't remember the woman's name. They didn't come back to talk to her. She thought the name D.D. was an abbreviation for a first and middle name but she can't remember them. What I need to do is figure out how to find the person who told Susan the farmhouse was empty. It wasn't the D'Agatis. And it didn't sound as though D.D. knew many people up there.”

“Well, keep thinking. Something'll come to you.”

When I hung up, it did.

It was too late to do much about it, but I was able to reach Jack. I kept the news of my arrest for later when he came home. “Maybe Susan knew a real estate agent,” I said.

“Good thinking. I'll check the phone book and get you a list—if there's more than one up there.”

“Great. I think I'll make another trip up there tomorrow.”

“I'll bring the list home. Kiss my boy for me.”

“I will.”

Real estate agents. That might be the wrong way to go but it was certainly a good place to start. Any realtor in the area would have known when the Donaldson farm was put up for sale and later that a large piece of it had been sold, leaving an empty house on a smaller piece of land. But it was more likely a person who knew the property personally who would tell a city girl off the record that the house was empty, and with luck she might make a deal for it.

Jack came home after ten and went upstairs to change and look in on his son while I heated up his dinner. When he came back and sat down to eat, I sprang my surprise on him.

“You were what?” he half shouted.

“Well, sort of arrested. I was taken to the station house, the one Joseph and I went to. You have a lewd wife, dear husband, in case you never noticed.”

“I sure as hell never noticed. I can't believe this. We've got a law in New York State that says—”

“I know. Arnold informed me and told the sergeant, and then they let me go. Arnold asked me if I wanted to sue them for a million dollars.”

“And?”

“And you know what I said. But they really do owe me an apology, and not just because what I did was legal. There was nothing morally wrong with it. They embarrassed me, they frightened me—I really felt panic creeping up when I was sitting in that station house—and the whole thing was absurd. I was fantasizing about taking the case to the Supreme Court and having all the nuns of St. Stephen's sitting in on the trial to support me.”

“You think they'd all support you?”

“I'm not sure, but it was a great image.”

“Why didn't you call me, Chris?”

“Because I didn't want to win it with one cop talking to another cop. This was an issue for me; it was something I believed in. I was willing to fight for it.”

“Wow. You're looking more and more like that tough nun of my childhood who—”

“Sister Merciless?”

He actually reddened a little. “One and the same.”

“I'm not. I just came to a point in my life when I knew I had to stand up for a principle. Do you suppose it's motherhood that's done this to me?”

“Ah, probably it's listening to me talk about the cases in my classes. Although motherhood's been known to have pretty strong effects on women.”

“Well, I'm glad it ended quickly and I got home in time to get Eddie ready for bed, but I hope that Deputy Kovacs thinks twice before he considers nursing to be lewd.”

“I got a hunch he will. Here's the list of realtors in the Bladesville area.”

I looked it over. “I'll call and find out who the listing realtor is before I go, and start there.”

“Taking Eddie?”

“Not this time. Elsie said she'd be delighted to have
him, and if he doesn't wake up of his own accord, she'll stick pins in him.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a great relationship.”

At nine on Thursday morning I called the real estate agency on Jack's list that seemed to be closest to Bladesville. (It occurred to me that if I'd had my wits about me I could have looked at the FOR SALE sign in front of the farmhouse and found out the easy way.) They weren't the listing realtors, and the woman I talked to wasn't anxious to give me their name. “I can help you with that property if you're interested.” But finally she gave me the name, Town and Country Properties, which seemed appropriate for the area, and said she would love to help me.

I then called Town and Country and asked for the agent who listed the Donaldson farm.

“This is George Gleason,” a deep voice said.

“Mr. Gleason, my name is Chris Bennett and I'm going to be in your area today. Will you be in between noon and one?”

“Absolutely, Ms. Bennett. I understand you're interested in the Donaldson farmhouse.”

“I have some questions to ask you about it, yes.”

“Well, I'll wait for you.”

He gave me directions and I was set.

Naturally, as soon as I heard the words Town and Country I remembered them from the sign at the house. I thought it was interesting that George Gleason didn't mention that he couldn't take me inside the property—it was still a crime scene, as far as I knew—but since I wasn't really interested in buying, a conversation would be enough for me.

I found the real estate office with no difficulty. It was a
storefront between a small bank and a laundromat on a street that looked very much like the main street of Bladesville. When I walked inside, a large man rose from a desk and greeted me with a smile.

“Ms. Bennett?”

“Yes. Thank you for waiting.” I sat down in the customer's chair next to his desk, my back to the front of the office. “Mr. Gleason, I'm not here as a prospective buyer. I need some information, in absolute confidence, and I'm hoping you can give it to me.”

“You've got my ear,” he said genially. “Can't imagine what I know that would be of interest.”

“I know a murder was committed in that house last week.”

His face fell. “This was a very, very sad situation. No one even knew that woman was living there. She must have been some kind of squatter.”

“She wasn't,” I said. “She was renting the house from Mr. Donaldson. I have no intention of getting anyone in trouble over this. I'm trying to find out who the woman was.”

“I see.” He closed his eyes and nodded his head. “Now I understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Fred Donaldson called me last summer and said he wanted the key to the house back. That if anyone wanted to see the house, he had to be told first.”

“So he could warn her to pack up and get out.”

“That's the way it looks, doesn't it? I had no part in this.”

Somehow I believed him. He had seemed genuinely surprised to learn that the murdered woman wasn't a squatter. “Mr. Donaldson told me that a woman came to him and asked to rent the house. That woman was not the victim but another woman who's now missing. She told
him that someone who lived around here told her the house was empty and who it belonged to.”

“Someone else rented that house?”

I took Susan's picture out of my bag and showed it to him. “He and his wife identified her as the renter.”

He studied it, then shook his head. “Never saw her in my life.”

I heard the front door open and a woman called, “Hi, George.”

He waved to the voice behind me. “Go on,” he said. “This is very interesting.”

“I really need to find the person she knew who told her about the farmhouse. I think it may well have been someone in this office.”

“I think I'll catch some lunch, George,” a man's voice called from behind where I was sitting.

“See you later, Larry.”

I turned and caught a glimpse of the man who was leaving. “I guess I'm keeping you from your lunch,” I said.

“Not to worry. In this business, you grab it when you can. Now let me assure you that everyone in this office is a licensed broker and wouldn't do what you suggested. They could lose their licenses. That house was condemned and Fred may get himself into a bunch of trouble for renting it. Not to mention what'll happen when the IRS gets hold of this.”

“I'm a friend of the family of the young woman in the picture. I have no interest in getting anyone in trouble. Susan is missing and everyone is very upset about it. We don't know if she's alive or dead. But she knew someone up here, and no one in her family or among her friends has any idea who that person is. I'm not turning anyone in to the authorities or the IRS. I just want to find the person who told her about the farmhouse.”

“You got me,” George Gleason said. “I don't know this woman. I don't know anything about it.” He handed me the picture.

“May I talk to the people in the office?”

“Be my guest. Alice Konig is at her desk. Larry Dickens just went to lunch. There are a couple of others, but they're not here now. You looking for a man or woman?”

“I wish I knew.”

He took a piece of paper and wrote names and addresses. I thanked him and went to Alice Konig's desk and talked to her for a few minutes. She said she knew nothing and although she smiled a lot, I thought she was very uncomfortable with my questions. But being uncomfortable didn't mean she was the person.

While we were talking, George Gleason said he was going to lunch. A few minutes later I decided it was time for me to have mine. There was a sandwich in the car and I was hungry. I said good-bye to Mrs. Konig and left the office.

My car was a few doors down the street. I stopped and fished for my keys outside the realtor's, then walked down the block.

“Excuse me.”

I turned around. A man stood next to me. He was mid-thirties, dark hair, vaguely familiar. “Yes?”