Death By A HoneyBee (13 page)

    
Kelly stretched out a gloved hand, which held hot chocolate and a bagel.
 
“There is no use being mad at me, Josiah.
 
I had to stay away, but I want you to know that I was working behind the scenes on your behalf.”

    
“You are a liar and a coward,” I replied, jerking the food out of his hands.
 
“You cops always stick together.
 
I’ll not listen to any of your Irish glib defending your bad conduct.”

    
“O’nan is a mean piece of work.
 
He was watching everyone who had contact with you, especially me.
 
But I did talk to Goetz on the sly,” said Kelly.

    
“What did you say?”

    
“I said you were not the murdering type.
 
It didn’t even look like a murder case to me.”

    
Mollified somewhat, I asked, “What did Goetz say?”

    
“He thought the investigation was headed in the wrong direction, but couldn’t speak up because O’nan was the primary.
 
It wasn’t until your lawyer filed that petition that Goetz was able to pull free of O’nan.”
 
Kelly laughed.
 
“Oh, man, does O’nan look like a horse’s ass – getting back at his high school art teacher.
 
He’s a big joke around the station for pulling that one.”

     
“College professor,” I corrected.

     
“Whatever.
 
Hey, don’t be mad at me.
 
I stood up for you.”

     
“Who is the primary now?” I asked.

 
    
“No one.
 
Pidgeon’s death is listed as a heart attack.
 
The medical examiner let it go.”

     
“But it could come up again if someone pushed it?”
                                                                 

     
“Whoa, don’t you know good news when you hear it?”

     
“Just thinking out loud.
 
I want to know more.
 
I know you have read the file.”

 
    
“Man, don’t make me,” whined Kelly.

     
“I need help.”

     
“But it’s over.”

     
“No, it’s not.
 
Someone is trying to put the whammy on me.
 
Please.
 
For old times’ sake?
 
Come on, didn’t I introduce you to your wife?”

     
“No, you didn’t, but you’ll bitch to her until she makes me help you.
 
Okay, meet me at Al’s in a couple of hours.
 
I get off my shift then,” replied Kelly before speeding away on his Segway.

    
Al’s Bar was a gritty little saloon on the corner of Sixth and Limestone where trendy urban dwellers and earnest poets hobnobbed with permanently down-and-out alcoholics.
 
It looked like a place Hemingway would come to sip his whiskey and write a masterpiece novel.
 
Like me, it was a little rusty around the edges, but solid at the core.
 
At least, I liked to think so.

    
I got there first.
 
Sitting in a duct-taped vinyl booth, I asked for a Long Island iced tea.
 
After a cheery waitress brought my drink, I ordered two cheeseburger platters with all the trimmings, knowing that Kelly would be hungry.
 
Just as the food arrived, Kelly plopped wearily into the booth. Happily, he poured ketchup on his plate while asking the waitress for a Corona and extra napkins.
 

   
“What’s it going to take for you not to be mad at me?” he asked, licking ketchup from his fingers.

   
“Why did the police think Pidgeon’s death wasn’t an accident?”

   
“Because it looked funny.
 
The missing car is the main reason.
 
If Pidgeon’s car had been at your place, then we would have assumed he died while vandalizing your hives.”

   
“But why look at me?
 
Why not Tellie?”

   
Kelly took a hearty bite out of his cheeseburger and answered with his mouth full.
  
“She was the first person they looked at, but she had an airtight alibi.
 
Her co-worker swore that Tellie left work at her usual time at 7 a.m.
 
Richard died around seven.
 
Not enough time for her to drive him to your place.
 
Tellie claims that you called Richard, and that you must have picked him up.
 
She said she drove straight home after work and went to bed.
 
Didn’t know anything until we knocked on the door.”
 

  
“She’s a nurse at the LETC on Tates Creek. That’s only twenty minutes from me.
 
She could have easily slipped out early,” I said, grabbing some of his fries after eating all of mine.

  
“Couldn’t shake her alibi.
 
Like I said, with her co-worker vouching for her, and the time card punched out at the correct time, Tellie’s untouchable.”

  
“Nurses don’t use time cards.”

  
“They do at this place.
 
New policy.”

  
“Damn.”
 
I thought for a moment.
 
“Who is this co-worker?”

  
“Name is Joyce Kramer.”

  
“Where does she live?”

  
“In Meadowthorpe.”

  
“This phone call that I supposedly made – did Tellie know for a fact that I had made it?
 
Did she hear it?”

  
“She said Richard told her about it.”

  
“So she could be telling the truth.
 
Maybe Richard lied to her about a phone call?”
                 

  
“Plausible.”

  
“You do know that Richard might be a wife-beater.”

  
“Of course, we heard rumors.
 
We asked Tellie but she denied it.”

  
“Did you check the ER records?”

  
“There was nothing in the file about that.
 
O’nan was not going down that path.”

  
“What about Taffy?”

  
“Never laid a hand on her that we know of.”

  
“She could have been trying to protect her mother like Cheryl Crane killing Johnny Stompanato.”
   
 

  
“Who?”

  
“You know, she killed her mother’s boyfriend – her mother was the actress Lana Turner.”

  
“Oh, movie stuff,” dismissed Kelly, who thought I was too fascinated with old movies.
 
“Taffy had an alibi with six witnesses.
 
She had gone to a wild party the night before and passed out on her hostess’ couch.
 
Apparently, others had slept over too.
 
She’s clean.”

   
“Any gambling debts, women?” I asked hopefully.

   
“Richard was a hardworking schlep with a bad temper.
 
As far as we can tell, he was faithful to his wife, purchased everything with a debit card so he would have a written record and was obsessed with the appearance of his house and yard.”

   
“So he wouldn’t gamble because he couldn’t have a written transaction of the bet.”

   
“Exactly.
 
You are now starting to know the man.”

   
“I went to see Agnes, his first wife,” I confessed.

   
Kelly seemed interested.
 
“Agnes did not have an alibi for that morning.”
 

   
“I guess it doesn’t matter.
 
She told me that she hadn’t seen him since they were divorced.”

   
“Really?
 
According to Richard’s desk calendar, they had lunch together several days before his death.”

   
I was flummoxed.
 
“That lying twit. And here I was feeling sorry I had bothered her.
 
Do you know what the meeting was about?”

   
“She said it had to do with the divorce, a detail they had missed but she discovered while making out her will.”

   
“What was the problem?
 
Who is the beneficiary of the will?”

   
“Richard was.”

   
“Richard?”
 
I thought for a moment.
 
“Did Agnes ever remarry or have kids?”

   
“Nope.”

   
“Then that doesn’t seem so far-fetched.
 
She loved Richard.
 
I don’t think she really wanted to divorce him.
 
It would make sense that she would make him her beneficiary if she has no other kin.”

   
“But that doesn’t explain why she needed to see him.
 
She wouldn’t tell O’nan.
 
According to the case file notes, she told O’nan to go to the devil and that he was to speak to her lawyer.”

   
I chuckled.
 
“She is a spitfire.
 
And she didn’t tell O’nan that I had been to see her?”

   
“Apparently not.”

   
“Hmmm.
 
Maybe I should pay Agnes another call.”

   
“Please don’t, Josiah.
 
It will come out that I talked to you.
 
I don’t want my butt on the line.”

   
“Quit whining.
 
I still don’t think you are telling me everything.”
   
                                           
 

   
Kelly paused for a moment.
 
I could tell he was thinking.
 
“Somebody keeps sending letters to the station claiming that you killed Pidgeon.”

    
I slapped the table.
 
Customers looked up from their booths and peered at me.
  
“I knew someone was trying to put the whammy on me.
 
What do the letters look like?”
  

    
“Typed.”

    
“As in a typewriter?”

    
Kelly talked around his food.
 
“Very old school.”
 
He swallowed and took a sip of his drink.
 
“Nobody but O’nan took them seriously.”
   

   
“How many are there?”
  

   
“Just two.
 
You have picked my brain entirely.
 
I don’t know anything else.
 
Honest.
 
Does this even the score now?”