Shake Down Dead (14 page)

“I never thought about it that way.
You’re probably right. This could have been a hate crime. Okay,
Natalie, before you call Lieutenant Jacobs and tell him everything
you know, tell me who said she was a lesbian.”

“I was at the rally in Mankato for
Charlie Jackson. Isn’t it great that our very own rock star is
going to be the Governor of Minnesota? I can hardly believe it.
That will put Hermann on the map for sure.”

“Natalie, focus. What did you
hear?”

“I heard Charlie Jackson’s mother tell
Mrs. Wentworth. I guess Mrs. Jackson saw Whitney and a woman
together somewhere and they were kissing.”

“Do you think Charlie’s mother was
telling the truth?”

“Why would she lie? Mrs. Wentworth must
have believed her because she didn’t throw a tantrum like she
usually does when she hears something she doesn’t like.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It just
doesn’t make sense. How do you know how Mrs. Wentworth usually
acts?”

“What rock have you been hiding under?
Jennifer, I’ve been Mrs. Wentworth’s—er, ah, assistant for several
years.”

“Does that mean you clean her house
once a week? I think someone mentioned that. Thanks, Nat for the
info. I need to get going.”

I left the house not knowing if I’d
learned anything or not.

Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Wentworth were
always arguing. Could Mrs. Jackson have just said she saw Whitney
kissing some woman in order to try to hurt her friend? Or did she
actually see something?

What about all the pictures in the
house? They showed Whitney with guys. Although she did go to the
prom alone. Or maybe not. Could one of the girls in the picture
have been Whitney’s date?

When I got to my vehicle, I realized
that I was still holding a half-eaten brownie. I got into the SUV
and tossed it into the litterbag. I needed a cup of coffee, or
maybe something stronger.

Perhaps Pam would enlighten me tomorrow
night when we met at the library. There were a few things I wanted
to look up while I was there.

I looked at my phone to check the
calendar. I was scheduled to cater a rally for Charlie in Marshall,
Minnesota, on Sunday. I only signed on for events that were in
southern Minnesota. It wasn’t profitable to go too far from
Hermann. I could grill Megan when we made campaign cookies for the
event.

With a little luck, I’d be able to talk
to Mrs. Jackson at the rally. Maybe I could get her to tell me who
she had seen kissing Whitney.

I headed toward my coffee warehouse.
Time to get some coffee roasted and fill some orders. I couldn’t
let this investigation interfere with my business. Well, not too
much anyway.

I got the coffee roaster set and
running, then fired up the computer and got on the
Internet.

I believed Decker when he said he
didn’t have anything to do with Whitney’s death. What I wasn’t sure
about was whether he was a suspect in the murder of the drug
dealer. I wanted to learn more about that incident.

I found the story about Decker’s wife
and child. I also found the article about the death of the drug
dealer, although they didn’t call him that in the article. They did
include much of his extensive criminal record and said that the
police were following up on leads.

I looked in later issues and couldn’t
find anything. It seemed that the website only showed part of the
newspaper. I’d need microfilm or a database for follow up stories.
I wondered if the library had a database with the information I
wanted. I made a mental note to check it out tomorrow when I went
to meet Pam at the library.

I finished packaging the coffee beans
my student workers had roasted yesterday. With a delivery list of
restaurants in the area that had standing orders for my Prima Gusto
Coffee in my hand, I loaded up my new SUV and was pleased that
everything fit with room to spare. I mentally revamped my delivery
schedule to accommodate two new customers.

Back inside, I spread the coffee that I
had just roasted on the cooling table. I’d come back first thing
tomorrow to package up the whole beans and grind and package the
orders for people who don’t want to bother grinding the beans right
before they brew the coffee. Coffee beans are at their best right
after they are ground.

I snagged several one-pound bags of my
finest blend and headed back to my car, tossing them into the front
passenger seat. I often stop at restaurants that don’t use my
coffee. I give them a freebie so they can taste for themselves how
wonderful my Primo Gusto is.

Bernie had invited me to dinner this
evening and she always welcomed a gift of my Java Java
blend.

19

I finished my deliveries and pulled
into the parking lot of Bernie’s apartment building at five-thirty.
She has a first floor apartment that was advertised as a garden
apartment. I didn’t see any garden, but she did have a patio with a
privacy fence around three sides. I usually park close to her
apartment and knock on the patio door instead of getting buzzed
into the building and walking down a long hallway to her
apartment.

Bernie answered the door with a spatula
in her hand. “Hi. You’re right on time. Supper is almost
ready.”

I pulled myself up on the stool at her
breakfast bar. “Bernie, you’re the only person in the country who
still eats supper. Everyone else eats dinner at this time of
night.”

“You know, Jennifer,” she said, shaking
her spatula at me “city people eat lunch and dinner. Those of us
who grew up on the farm eat dinner and supper. And since we produce
the food eaten at those meals, I think we got it right.”

“Whoa!” I said holding up my hands, “I
give up. You’re right!”

Bernie set two stemmed wine glasses and
a bottle of Chianti between us. She got out her corkscrew gizmo
that pulled the cork out without any effort and poured us each a
glass. We sipped the dark red wine while I brought her up to speed
on where Decker and I were with the investigation. That took about
30 seconds.

“I’m sorry that Delmar put Jerry on
leave,” she said, “although I have to say, that I’m glad he’s going
to help you. You’ll be safer that way.”

I waved my hand at her. “Don’t be
silly, Bernie. I’m not in any danger.”

“That’s what you said last summer and
looked what happened.”

“I was just fine. Nothing happened to
me. What’s for supper?” I didn’t want to be reminded of a scary
event that could have ended badly.

“You’re being treated tonight to my
favorite Italian meal.”

“Where did you learn to cook Italian
food?” I asked.

“Remember a few years ago when I went
on a retreat in Vermont?”

“They taught you how to cook Italian
food at a retreat?”

“
Don’t be silly. We all took turns cooking and
shared recipes. Sister Maria Lourdes grew up in an Italian
neighborhood in New York City. She taught us how to make several
Italian dishes. When it was my turn, I cooked brats and German
potato salad.”

After two helpings of Bernie’s baked
lasagna and a big scoop of spumoni, we moved to the living room,
taking the bottle of wine with us. After I settled in on the sofa,
I brought up the subject of Whitney’s sexual preference.

“I wouldn’t tell you if I had any
information, Jennifer. I can say that of all the things I’ve heard
about that poor girl, homosexuality wasn’t one of them.”

“You know, Bernie, I wonder if Yvonne
Jackson made it all up. But why? Would she do that just to irritate
Mrs. Wentworth?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Charlie is the
center of her life. If Whitney had a crush on him, Yvonne might
tell him that Whitney was gay, just to keep him away from her, but
she had no reason to tell Henrietta, even if it was true—which I
doubt.”

“I’m meeting with Pam Frey tomorrow
night. I’ll ask her if she knows if Whitney was gay. I’m hoping she
can tell me more about the girls Whitney hung around with in high
school and since graduation.”

“Pamela is such a nice girl. After Mass
last Sunday, she told me that she is taking night courses at
Hermann Community College so she can get out of waitressing and
work in an office. It must be hard for her with two little kids to
take care of.”

“I didn’t know she had kids. Is she
married?”

“She’s a widow. Her husband was in the
Army reserves and got called up. He died in Afghanistan last
year.”

“Oh, Geez, that’s too bad. She’s so
young to have had that kind of loss in her life.”

While I was pondering that information,
there was a knock on the door. When Bernie opened the door, I heard
Decker’s husky voice.

He came in and sat next to me on the
sofa while Bernie went into the kitchen. While she was gone, Decker
gave me a quick kiss and asked how my day had gone.

Before I could answer, Bernie was back
with a cold bottle of beer for him. He thanked Bernie and took a
long drink.

“So, Jerry, Jennifer’s been telling me
about her day. Did you find out anything useful to help clear
Harold?”

Decker sat back and lifted his right
foot over his left leg. “I did find out some things, Sister. I
don’t know how much it helps to clear anyone—or to point the finger
at any one either.”

Decker had met with the medical
examiner, off the record. “He said that Whitney died from blunt
force trauma. There was a bruise on her forehead consistent with
the size and shape of a baseball bat. The interesting thing is that
she didn’t die until just minutes before she fell out of your car,
Jennifer.”

“How can that be? Where was
she?”

“She was probably unconscious and
bleeding in her brain. The injury occurred hours before she died.
In fact, the medical examiner said that she might have lived if she
had received immediate treatment.”

“Wow, so whoever hit her probably did
drag her into the woods and then put her in my car later.” I was
thinking that it was too bad that whoever did it hadn’t just
runaway and left Whitney on the ground near her car. Harold would
have alerted us and we could have called an ambulance.

Decker said that Jacobs had met with
Charlie Jackson. “Just like we thought, Charlie had an airtight
alibi. After the rally on the day Whitney disappeared, Charlie had
a news conference, and then went to dinner at the Schnitzel Haus, a
restaurant over in Hanska, with a group of businessmen who were
supporting his run for Governor. He wasn’t alone until he left the
restaurant to go home at about eleven o’clock. Of course, Jacobs
has to check it all out.”

“That lets Charlie off the hook,”
Bernie said. “I’m glad it wasn’t him. I know it wasn’t Harold, so
who did it? It’s so frustrating!”

Decker uncrossed his legs, leaned
forward and patted Bernie’s hand. “Don’t worry, Sister, we’ll find
out who did this.”

Bernie gave Decker a grateful smile and
said, “Well, hurry up, Jerry. Get it in gear.”

We all laughed and that broke the
tension. Decker started telling us about the rest of his day. I
noticed Bernie wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

Decker had also stopped in to see Lisa
Vetter at the Emergency Room of the Hermann Hospital. There were no
patients there at the time, so Decker was able to question her. He
told her about the list the police had found on Whitney’s phone and
that her name was on the list. He didn’t mention the other names,
although Lisa had asked him. It turns out that the police had
already talked to her, but she was willing to tell Decker what
she’d told them.

“She says she was with Trudy and you at
the Lace Haus, and then she went home with her family and they
would vouch for her,” Decker said. “We know that families aren’t
the best people to give someone an alibi. Family members will often
lie to protect their loved ones.”

Decker went on to tell us that Lisa
said Whitney had contacted her and asked for, or rather demanded
money, threatening to tell Randy about an affair that Whitney had
found out about somehow. Lisa laughed in her face and said that
Randy knew all about the affair. She said that her private life
wasn’t any of Whitney’s business.

“What about Randy?” Bernie
asked.

“What about him?” Decker and I replied
in unison.

“We know Lisa was with us when Whitney
disappeared,” explained Bernie, “but where was Randy? He can be
very overprotective. Remember when I was going into the convent and
he went a little nuts and tried to ‘save me’ from a life in a
‘nunnery?’”

I remembered but Decker wasn’t around
then so we explained to him how Randy and Bernie had been a couple
until Bernie decided that she was meant to be a nun. We knew that
he was certainly capable of protecting his loved ones.

“Would he kill someone to protect
Lisa?” Decker asked.

“I think he may be capable of it,” said
Bernie. “But if Randy and Lisa worked it out, I can’t see him
hurting Whitney just to save Lisa’s pride or Randy’s manliness.”
Bernie shook her head. “It’s such a shame that people can cause so
much pain to others.”