Shake Down Dead (21 page)

“What?” I asked. Not waiting for an
answer I said, “The salt is only on the top layer. I need it for
later.”

Shortly before we got our refreshments
we had a lively discussion about which movie to see.

“Let’s see that alien movie,” Decker
said. “I heard it was really good.”

I’d rather see that romantic comedy.
You like comedies, don’t you?”

“Not really. It’s a chick flick. How
about this one that takes place during World War II?”

“Works for me,” I replied. I actually
wanted to see this movie but if he knew that it was a love story
along with the action, Decker may not have agreed to it. Sometimes
it’s just too easy.

26

Decker and I slept in Saturday morning.
When we finally got up he offered to make breakfast which was more
like lunch, given the time.

I had just stuck a huge forkful of
omelet in my mouth when Decker held up the coffee pot. I nodded and
he refilled my cup, then his own. I loved his omelets. He filled
them with all kinds of veggies—onions, green peppers, mushrooms,
and who knew what else.

When we had eaten most of the meal, we
slowed down enough to talk to each other.

“Okay, Decker, so why didn’t that
lawyer say anything last night?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe
she wasn’t a lawyer.”

“Then who was she—? Oh. I
see.”

“Has Megan ever said that her
relationship with Charlie was exclusive?”

“No, but I don’t think that Megan is
still into Charlie. She told me what she really enjoyed was running
the campaign. You know, making arrangements, finding venues for his
rallies, that sort of stuff.”

“Then this woman could be Megan’s
replacement.”

“Who knows? It’s just an idea. Whoever
she was, she didn’t have anything to add to the
conversation.”

“What about the cleaning lady?” I
asked. “Or, should I say, the lady cleaning the restroom? I’m sure
Pam wasn’t talking about the college person that Charlie described.
And she stayed in the bathroom the whole time Pam was there, so
it’s possible that Whitney didn’t know she was there. She could
have overheard the whole thing.”

“That’s a possibility. Another is that
Charlie could have been listening to them from his office. He could
have cracked the door and they might not even have known that he
was there.” Decker said. “He’s still my best suspect—or should I be
PC and say, ‘Person of Interest?’”

I laughed at Decker’s attempted joke.
Actually, he was so straight forward that he was often anything but
politically correct.

“So, who’s on the agenda today?” Decker
asked.

“I don’t know. Have we talked to
everyone? The more I talk to people the more I’m pretty sure anyone
could have killed Whitney. And with good reason.”

“You’re not sticking up for her
murderer, are you?”

“No.” I sighed, and then said, “I just
think that she wasted her life on things that were useless and in
doing that Sister Bernie is the only one with anything good to say
about her.”

“Don’t forget the residents of the
group home. I’m sure they appreciated all of her efforts for
them.”

“Yes. I did forget about them. I’m glad
Harold is off the hook,” I said.

“I talked to Bernie yesterday. She said
that although the authorities don’t believe Harold killed Whitney,
most of the people in Itzig still think he’s dangerous. We need to
find the killer so he’s vindicated.” Decker said.

“Then we’d better get to it,” I said,
slapping my hand on the table. “There has to be someone we haven’t
talked to.”

“I don’t think so. If we haven’t
interviewed them, Jacobs has. Is there anyone we need to speak to
again?”

I was so full and content, I didn’t
want to move. The caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet, so I poured
another cup of coffee. When I offered to refill Decker’s cup, he
declined.

I reluctantly dug in my purse and
pulled out my little notebook with the red cover. I flipped through
it and found the names of Whitney’s high school friends: Olivia
Zimmerman, Gina Lang, and Kimberly Adler.

“Gina’s my new hairdresser. Check,” I
said, making an “X” in front of her name. “Did you follow up on
Olivia Zimmerman?”

Decker looked up from the newspaper he
was reading and said, “Who?”

“Whitney’s high school friend, Olivia
Zimmerman Reese. She lives in Sleepy Eye. I think she might be one
of the women Pete pointed out at the Cozy Corner the other
night.”

“I thought you said she was
married.”

“She is,” I answered. “At least as far
as I know. I’m not sure she was one of them. That’s why someone
needs to talk to her. I’ll call and see if she’s home.

“Don’t bother,” Decker said. “Jacobs
talked to all the girls on the list.”

“Girls? They’re hardly girls
anymore.”

“Yeah, but they were when they were in
high school and that’s where Whitney met them. And if she
blackmailed any of them it was probably from something they did in
high school—when they were girls.”

“Okay. Check, check, check. Decker, who
is ‘d.yng’ and what did she steal?”

“What are you talking about?” Decker
said, putting down the paper and paying attention to me.

“The list on Whitney’s phone. It says
‘d.yng thft.’ Do you know who it is?

“Yes, Jacobs said it was Della Younger,
Harold’s niece.”

“Oh, no. Is this going back to Harold
again? I thought he was eliminated as a suspect.”

“He is. Jacobs said that he talked to
Della and found that she had been caught shoplifting when she was
sixteen years old. She got probation and community service.
Apparently, Whitney thought that Sister Bernadine would fire her if
she found out. Della said she laughed in Whitney’s face. Jacobs
said that the community service she was assigned to was sorting
donated clothing at St. Theresa’s Thrift Shop. Guess who her boss
was?”

“Bernie,” I guessed.

“Yep. Now can I please finish reading
the paper?”

“What’s so interesting in that stupid
paper? I’m trying to find a killer here, okay?”

Decker smiled at me. I was trying to
insult him and he smiled!

“Here, look at this,” Decker answered,
pointing to an article in the paper. Instead of handing me the
paper, he began to read the article to me. I hate to be read to.
“Mort Kelly, Librarian at Hermann Public Library will present a
genealogy seminar on ‘Filling in the Branches of Your Family Tree.’
The seminar will begin at 2:00 PM on Sunday at the Hermann Public
Library. Refreshments will be served. Please call ahead to reserve
your place.”

“Are you interested in your family
tree?” I asked. Why was he so interested in genealogy all of a
sudden?

“No, I know where I came from. My
family all live in the same neighborhood on the south side of
Chicago. This Mort guy, didn’t you meet him?”

“Yes, I talked to him Thursday.
Why?”

“Well, I was thinking. Charlie sure
looks like our guy, but we don’t know why Whitney was blackmailing
him. The only thing we know is that he might have a love child out
there somewhere. Maybe this librarian could see if there’s a kid
out there who belongs to Charlie.”

“I see, yes,” I said. “Except that I
think genealogy traces your family backwards, not who comes after
you.”

“Why couldn’t he do it the other way? I
think it’ll work. Can you ask him?”

“Sure, I can give him a call. Did you
ever find the vandals who threw that paint on Sunrise
House?”

“Jacobs got them. They’re a couple
twelve year olds in Itzig. Apparently, they heard their parents
complaining about the residents and thought it would be okay to
vandalize the house. Jacobs is dealing with it outside of
court.”

“What do you mean? What is he
doing?”

Decker laughed. “He made a deal with
them to keep the whole thing out of the legal system. The parents
and the kids will clean up the paint and whatever damage they did
to the house. Then they are all responsible for all the yard work
at the group home for the next six months. That includes the leaf
raking, snow shoveling, and grass cutting.”

“That is so good. It will be good for
the parents and the kids. And they’ll spend some positive time with
each other. Jacobs is a genius,” I said laughing with
Decker.

“Speaking of Jacobs, I’m meeting with
him later this afternoon. We’re going to go over everything we each
have on the case and see if we missed anything. What are you
doing?”

“I have to get over to the warehouse.
It’s Saturday and we’re roasting and packaging all day. I’ll make
time to stop over at the library and check out those things with
Mort Kelley later today.”

“That sounds good. Let’s meet here and
go out to dinner. What time?” he asked.

“The library closes at five-thirty. I
should be back here by quarter to six.”

I picked up my purse and jacket, leaned
down to kiss Decker goodbye and said, “See you later,
Handsome.”

27

I pulled into the library parking lot
and looked at my watch. It was a little after five in the
afternoon. We had worked later than I thought we would but got all
the orders filled for me to deliver Monday and Tuesday. It had been
sprinkling but just when I unbuckled my seat belt, it started to
pour.

Picking up my umbrella, I opened it
through a crack in the door then slide out of the car and under the
umbrella. I had taken only two steps when my right foot splashed
into a puddle. The wind picked up and was now trying to turn my
umbrella inside out. I pulled on the brass handle of the library
door and rushed inside.

I set my umbrella down near the door
hoping I wouldn’t forget it later. This was the third umbrella I
had bought this year. It seemed the only time I remembered them was
when it was still raining when I left. This storm didn’t look like
it would end anytime soon.

The library was almost deserted. I only
had a half hour before they closed. This wouldn’t take long. I just
wanted to ask Deb if she had seen anyone around Pam when she got on
the elevator. Maybe I’d catch a break, but I wouldn’t bet on
it.

Deb, a thirty-something buxom woman
with hair an impossible shade of red, was checking out books for a
teenage girl. I peeked at the titles; all three were vampire love
stories. I wasn’t surprised. When she finished, I asked her if she
had a few minutes.

“Sure, if it doesn’t take too long. I
start closing the library in about ten minutes.”

I’ll be quick,” I promised. “All I want
to know is if you saw anyone around Pam the other day when she was
attacked in the elevator.”

“No, just some boys who were looking at
sci-fi books. Except for Mrs. Jackson.”

“Mrs. Jackson? Charlie’s mother?” I
asked.

“Yes, she’s here all the time. She
thinks she’s helping her son get elected.”

“What does she do when she’s here?” I
asked.

“Mort and I are qualified to register
voters. Yvonne wants to make sure that everyone over 18 is
registered to vote for her son. She comes in sometimes just to ask
how many people have registered since the last time she was here.
Like we keep track for her. She used to go around and ask our
patrons if they were registered. If they weren’t she’d bug them
until they filled out the paperwork. We warned her several times
not to do that. Finally, Mort told her if she did it again, she
would be banned from the library. She was ticked off but she quit.
Oops, I have to make the closing announcement now.”

“Okay, thanks Deb.”

She walked over to the PA system and
spoke into a telephone receiver. “The library will be closing in
fifteen minutes. If you have books to check out, please bring them
to the Circulation Desk now. The library is closed on Sunday but
will reopen Monday at nine a.m.”

Mort came up to the desk and asked,
“Hi, do you need to see more microfilm?”

“No, I’m looking for different
information this time.”

He hand went into his pocket and an
M&M went into his mouth. “What can we help you
with?”

Deb walked over and said to Mort.
“Jennifer was asking about people in the library when Pam was
attacked. I told her that Mrs. Jackson was here.”

“Was she? I didn’t notice.”

“What about Whitney Wentworth? Was she
a patron? She was Pam’s cousin, you know.”

Mort answered while Deb was counting
the money in the cash drawer. “Sure, she came in occasionally. She
would stop and talk to Pam if she was here. Whitney was interested
in Hermann history. We have a fine collection of information about
Hermann; would you like to see it?”

Deb stepped and said. “I don’t think
she’s looking for that kind of information, Mort.”

“Actually,” I said, “It might be useful
to know what she was looking for. Do you remember, Mr.
Kelley?”