Shake Down Dead (10 page)

“I’m sorry I’m late, Lieutenant. Got
caught up watching the Glock.”

“It’s okay, Jennifer. I usually stop to
watch it at least once a week. It really is quite a
masterpiece.”

Then we got down to business and I
spent the next hour answering questions for Jacobs, which I’m sure
added nothing to the investigation. I only talked about what I had
seen and heard at the bar, not mentioning that I had gone there
looking for Whitney or any of the snooping I had done yesterday
afternoon or my Facebook and yearbook searches.

I left the courthouse, made a quick
stop, and then headed home, kicking off my shoes the minute I
walked through the door. On the way to the bedroom, I pulled my
sweater off and dug through the clothes on the floor for a ratty
t-shirt and baggy sweat pants Ah, comfort at last.

Grabbing a paper plate, fork, and a
Diet Coke from the kitchen, I headed to the living room along
taking the little take-out boxes from Chin’s Chinese with me. I
dumped the rice from the smallest box onto the plate and with my
fingers, picked up pieces of deep fried, battered chicken and
arranged them on top of the rice, topping off the mound of food
with sweet and sour sauce. With my feet up on the ottoman, I
settled back to enjoy my dinner. It always tasted better when
someone else cooked it.

After cleaning my plate, I washed the
spoon and fork, put them in the dish drainer and dumped everything
else in the trash. I slapped my hands together. Dishes done,
kitchen cleaned.

Back in the living room, I dropped back
in my favorite rocker and put my feet up. I needed to arrange a
ride with Megan to get my new vehicle. Her answering machine told
me she was out campaigning for Charlie, drumming up votes.
Wondering if she was just taking a nap, I left a message for her to
call me in the morning if she got in too late tonight. “And any
time after eleven is too late,” I added and hung up.

Decker called to tell me he was working
late. “Are you still working on Whitney’s case?” I
asked.

“No. We did bring Harold in for
questioning. He didn’t have anything new to say. Sister Bernie got
him a lawyer and we had to let him go.”

“You’re still looking for whoever did
this, aren’t you?”

“Jennifer, are you going to try to do
my job again?”

“Of course not. It’s just that Trudy
and Bernie are so sure Harold couldn’t have done this. If they
weren’t so emphatic, I wouldn’t be questioning you. So, do you have
another suspect that’s keeping you working so late on a Sunday
night?”

“I’m working on a vandalism incident
right now.”

“Vandalism? You’re working late to find
a vandal? Isn’t that a little beneath your pay grade?”

“Not really. Someone threw red paint
all over the side of the Sunrise Group Home.”

“For heaven sakes, who would do such a
thing?”

“We’re looking into it. It may be
connected to Whitney’s death.”

“You mean that someone hates the group
home being there so much that they’d kill someone? That’s hard to
believe.”

“People’s prejudices run deep. This
community that you find so friendly is pretty well
closed.”

“What do you mean? People here are very
friendly.”

“No, Jennifer, they’re not friendly;
they’re nice. Big difference.”

“I don’t see much difference.” I felt
my spine stiffen.

“I do. How many black families live
here?”

“There’s a few,” I
protested.

“And only a few, much less than ten
percent of the population. Do you remember the county board meeting
when they signed the papers certifying the first group home in
Hermann?”

“Oh, yes, that was nasty, wasn’t it?
How can people behave that way?”

“You wouldn’t believe how badly people
can behave, Jennifer. You should realize that these things happen.
You didn’t live your whole life in a small town.”

“No, I didn’t. And I’m one of the
people who automatically thought Harold had hurt
Whitney.”

“Sure you did, and you had more
information than anyone. He said that he couldn’t wake her
up.”

“Decker, I have to admit, the reason I
think someone else did it is because I don’t think Harold would
have hid her, then put her in my car. I don’t think he’s able to
plan that far ahead. And why would he be so upset when she wasn’t
there? He wasn’t faking. I think if he had killed Whitney, she
still would have been there when we came out of Trudy’s
place.”

“You’re probably right, JJ.”

“Don’t call me JJ! I hate that
nickname. In fact, I hate nicknames all together.”

“No you don’t or you wouldn’t call me
Jerry. Or Decker, for that matter.”

“I call you Jerry because that’s all I
know you by. Heck, I don’t even know if your real name is Gerald or
Jerome.”

“Neither.”

“Neither? How can that be?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what that
middle J stands for.”

“Forget it. I’ll just call you
Decker.”

“That’s not what you called me the
other night.” I could almost hear the smile in his
voice.

Giggling, I said, “Oh, shut up. Is this
turning into a sex call? Do I hear heavy breathing?”

“Nope. Too many people around. I’ll see
you tomorrow night for sure.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it. Maybe I
can come up with another name for you.”

He chuckled and hung up.

I headed for the bedroom. I didn’t
think that I’d have Harold in my dreams tonight.

15

I woke up to a cold, windy, and rainy
morning. A second look showed me that it wasn’t just rain. There
were white fluffy things floating down too. Here comes a Minnesota
winter. Not even Halloween yet and winter is upon us. I thought
back when I was a kid and went trick or treating. Our costumes had
to be either big enough to wear over our winter coats, which was
awful, or hidden under our coats where no one would see them. We
ran to the apartment buildings, plenty of inside doors to knock on
while we warmed up a little.

I poked around in my purse looking for
my cell and hit the speed dial key for her phone. She answered on
the second ring. I didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Bernie, when can you meet with me
today? We need to talk about Whitney.”

“Good morning to you, too, Jennifer.
And how are you on this fine fall day?”

“Okay,” I answered with a sigh. “I’m
fine. How are you? And when can you meet with me? I’m a very busy
woman and I’m trying to help you out.”

“I know, Jennifer. I just want you to
look into this, not get all overcome with it like you did last
time.”

“I did not get overcome!” I protested.
“Do you want me to help or not?” I wasn’t about to be lectured by
Sister Bernadine this morning.

I heard her take a deep breath and then
she replied. “Yes, I want your help. You seem to be able to put
things together rather well. I’m busy right now, though. Let’s see,
I have an appointment in a few minutes. Could you meet me here at
the office around ten o’clock?”

“At the group home in Itzig?” I
asked.

“No, dear. I’m at the Mary’s Haven
office here in Hermann. You’ve been here, right?”

“Yes, I was at the reception last year
when you first opened the office. I’m on my way to Megan’s right
now. I’ll stop by after I pick up my new vehicle.”

Since I had time before meeting with
Bernie, I had called Megan to arrange a ride to Hermann Motors so I
could pick up my new SUV.

While I was taking my morning shower, I
thought about all the Halloweens Megan, Bernie and I had spent
together over the years. When we were in fourth grade, Megan had
the chicken pox and couldn’t go trick or treating with us. Bernie
felt so bad that she brought along an extra pillow case, which is
what we always used, thinking we’d have more room for candy than in
a plastic bag, and asked at every house for extra candy for our
sick friend. Megan was overjoyed with the candy we brought her the
next day.

Being Megan, the next year she brought
two bags and told everyone that she had a sick sister to get extra
candy. Bernie was so angry that she tried to tell the adults at
each house that Megan didn’t have a sister. It’s our favorite
Halloween story and Megan and I retell it every year to anyone who
hasn’t heard it before and to some who have. Bernie still gets
upset when we talk about it.

Back in the bedroom, I pulled a
turtleneck sweater over my head and smoothed it over my jeans. When
I used the blow dryer on my hair, I realized that I was overdue for
a haircut. I’d have to try to fit that in sometime this week. When
I was dressed and ready, I sat down for a second cup of coffee. I
had splurged and brewed up a pot of Jamaican Blue. It was one of
the best coffees in the world and only grew in a few mountain areas
of Jamaica. I needed the brace of a second shot of caffeine before
dealing with Bernie. She wasn’t going to like this
meeting.

I picked up the Maron County Herald and
paged through it while I sipped my energizing cup of coffee. I saw
an ad for a new beauty shop that had just opened on Broadway. They
had a special on haircuts.

Last August we had a streak of
unusually hot weather and I had my shoulder length hair cut in a
short bob. Since I have no talent with hair styling, it was just
the right cut for me. I usually just ran into one of the national
chains and had whoever was available cut my hair. Sometimes I got a
great cut. Other times, not so good. Maybe it was time to have a
stylist who could cut it the same way every time. I tore out the
coupon for Head’s Up Hair Salon. It stated that they took walk-ins.
I’d try to get over there sometime soon.

I folded the paper and after I put on
my winter jacket, tucked it under my arm and headed for the door. I
braced myself for a blast of winter and was surprised to find that,
although it was only about forty degrees out and a little windy, it
was a rather delightful fall day—except for the snowflakes that
were still drifting down from the cloudy skies.

Megan was in a hurry when I got to her
place. She had some errands to run for Charlie and a meeting with
the volunteers at eleven o’clock.

“Charlie sure keeps you busy. Can you
afford to take off this much work?” I asked.

“I sure can. You don’t think I’m doing
all this for love do you?”

You mean Charlie’s paying
you?”

“Of course he is. I like Charlie but I
don’t work for free.” She winked at me.

“Here you go,” she said, pulling into
Herman Motors. “I hate to just drop you off but I have to get over
to the printers. Okay?”

“Thanks, Megan. I’ll talk to you
later.” I pulled up the hood on my jacket and ran across the lot to
the office.

An hour later, I pulled up in front of
Bernie’s workplace. Mary’s Haven Group Homes was in a one-story
brick building that also housed offices for an accounting firm, a
dentist and a takeout pizza store. When I pulled open the door, a
sudden gust of wind caught it and swung the door wide. It banged
against the building. Luckily, it didn’t break the glass. So much
for a fine fall day.

I was surprised to see Della Younger,
Harold’s cousin, sitting behind the reception desk. “Della, I
didn’t know you worked here. I haven’t seen you since Polka Daze.
How are you?”

“Hi, Ms. Penny. I just started working
here a few weeks ago. Sister Bernie asked me to fill in while her
regular receptionist was on maternity leave. I need the experience
to get a permanent job. Maybe the new mom will decide not to come
back and I can stay here.”

“Good luck, Della. Is Sister
in?”

“Oh, gee, yes. She’s waiting for you.
Go right in.” Della motioned toward a doorway behind
her.

I walked through the opening and saw
three doors. The first was a washroom, the second a door marked
“Accounting” and finally a door marked “Director.” That’s my friend
Bernie, Miss Low-Key.

I knocked twice and opened the door a
crack to peek in and make sure I was at the right place. Bernie sat
behind an outsized walnut desk, her veiled head over the papers she
was perusing. She looked up and the frown on her face turned to a
smile.

“Jennifer! Come in. Sit. I’ll make some
tea.”

No use arguing that I had just ingested
two cups of coffee and didn’t need more stimulants or liquid in my
system. “Thanks, Bernie. I have a lot of questions. How much time
can you give me?”

“All the time you need to help poor
Harold out of this mess,” she said, filling the electric teakettle.
“And of course, to bring Mrs. Wentworth some closure. It’s been a
terrible time for her. She’s lost everything now. I don’t know how
she’ll survive this latest tragedy.”

I often thought that Bernie was a
little naive. She seems too trusting to me. On the other hand, I
love the way she always sees the good side of people. When I
complained once about a customer who owed me money, Bernie told me
that the woman was a saint, taking care of her dying mother. Yeah,
I was humbled.