From Newsprint to Footprints: A River's Edge Cozy Mystery (River's Edge Cozy Mysteries Book 1) (25 page)

"Did you know him long before he helped you?"

Syl shook his head. "Because of the size of the contract there was what's called a pre-bid meeting. A chance for people who are interested in the work to ask questions. Bill was there."

"So you beat him out for the project?"

"Ostensibly. I think he wanted to meet people who were interested to offer his services. Said he knew his way around Iowa government."

I thought about this. "Are you the only person he helped?"

Syl's laugh had a bitter quality. "For all I know he worked with several people. Could have made a lot of money."

I couldn't think of more questions, so I stood. "I'll talk to Stooper about being here when I am." As I got to the bottom of the porch steps I thought of one other thing. "I don't think I asked you. Did you ever meet Hal?"

The amused expression was there for a split second, and he sobered. "Briefly. He invited me to coffee at that run-down gas station at the north edge of town."

"That tacky place?"

"Their coffee seems to be the cheapest in town. He thought I sold computers. Wanted me to buy advertising."

I was halfway home before two things occurred to me. If I was on my toes, I'd have asked Syl Just Bill's full name. And, in addition to not liking Just Bill, he was more than creepy enough to be Hal's murderer. Buy why would Just Bill and Hal have been at Syl's the night Hal was killed? Was Syl hiding anything from me?

ON THE ONE HAND, suspicion about Just Bill was something I maybe should take to Sheriff Gallagher. On the other hand, suspicion was probably too strong a word, and I would have to say something about Syl's affairs that he definitely would not want the sheriff to know. I decided to keep my thoughts to myself. For now, anyway.

I turned into Mrs. Keyser's driveway about seven-thirty, ready for dinner, but needing to do one more thing. I said hush several times as I climbed the steps to my apartment. Mister Tibbs' only truly bad habit is barking incessantly when he hears me coming home. And whining when I leave.

"Come on, just a quick walk. Then I have to look for Stooper at the tavern." We walked halfway down the block and walked back, when I had a plastic bag of his business.

When we got to the bottom of the steps to go up to the apartment, he balked and sat.

"Come on, buddy, girl. I won't be gone long." Mister Tibbs sat on her haunches and gave me a gooey-eyed stare. "Okay, but you'll have to sit in the truck while I go into the tavern."

The plastic bag went into the outside garbage can, and I vowed I would wash my hands when I got to the tavern. Mister Tibbs settled on her blanket in the back seat and selected a chew toy.

I headed for Beer Rental Heaven. It was nearly dark and a cool sixty degrees. When I parked, I put each window down a few inches and locked the truck, promising a nervous Mister Tibbs that I would be back soon.

When I walked into the tavern, I went first to the rest room. I had planned to clean up a bit at home after walking Mister Tibbs, and I should have. I rubbed at a spot of dirt on my cheek, probably from rubbing my face with work gloves.
Syl should have told me that was there
.

I applied lipstick and walked out of the ladies room, almost directly into Stooper. "Whoa." I smiled, but he did not.

"I saw you come in. You okay?"

"Yep. And I want to stay that way." I started to the bar. "Syl had a request. Can I buy you a beer?"

He walked next to me and then behind me as we threaded through a few of the small tables. I saw no one I knew, not surprising because I only come in a few times a year.

Stooper sat in front of a half empty beer glass.

"What can I get you?"

"I only do two a night now. He glanced at a clock above the bar. And I don't do the second one until nine."

"Gee, that's…"

"Unexpected?" Gary said.

I frowned at the bartender. "I'll have an iced tea. The plain kind." Gary shook his head slightly as he walked away, and it irritated me. I tip well.

Stooper frowned. "I'm usually a lot of his business. If I'm sober, he takes a hit."

"You'll be his business longer if you keep cutting back."

"Yep." He met my gaze in the mirror. "What does Syl want?"

"That I be there only when you are for a while. He knew the guy and doesn't like him."

Stooper didn't say anything.

"You don't have to come more often. For one thing, I'm going to Dubuque to see Ambrose and Sharon for Memorial Day."

"I guess if my back hurts or something I can sit on the porch. You know, not charge him."

"Didn't know you had a sore back."

"Getting rid of this beer belly'll help that, too. If Syl's thinkin' the guy's no good, maybe we should wait until after Syl deals with him."

"We…could. He probably won't come two days in a row, and I need to get those plants in the ground before I go away. How about tomorrow and be done for a bit?"

Gary brought my iced tea. "Just tea." He nodded at a guy near the door and headed that way.

"Sure. I can check out mowers for Syl while you're away."

We agreed he would come at three instead of four the next day. After a couple of awkward minutes of small talk, which I have no idea how to make with Stooper, I downed the rest of my tea and headed home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE NEXT DAY WAS the Thursday before Memorial Day. I woke early, and by eight-thirty had done a load of laundry and spent an hour trying to teach Mister Tibbs to fetch.

I was also trying to get the little dog comfortable with the new crate I'd bought. Dr. Marshall needed his back, and I thought, if we had to travel outside of town, Mister Tibbs needed more space and, probably, protection if I had a fender bender. The crate cost as much as two weeks' groceries.

Mister Tibbs was apparently familiar with crates and not too fond of them. He would only go in one if I put a treat or ball in it.
So much for preparing him for a road trip
.

The day dragged. Since I couldn't go to Syl's until Stooper joined me, I of course wanted to get there much earlier. Instead I finished washing the sheets from the guest room and made Mrs. Keyser's day by siting on the front porch with her for twenty minutes.

I drove to Syl's about two-forty-five and parked at the far end of the driveway, thinking Stooper might drive his old car and need to park beside me. He had finally had his muffler repaired.

The watering can I'd brought from home filled quickly with the hose. Syl would have to get his own can, because I didn't feel like tugging a hose all over the yard to water small groupings of flowers and I needed my can at home.

I walked into the barn totally unprepared to see another person and just missed being grabbed by the right shoulder. I was off balance for a second, but managed to grab a potted geranium and hurl it at Just Bill.

He spit dirt. "You stupid broad. You need to learn to be quiet."

I ran to the other side of the plywood-topped table.
Why didn't I wait for Stoope
r
?
"What do you want? I never did anything to you!"

He edged around the table toward me. I kept moving, meaning we were circling or, in this case, more like squaring off around the table. Thankfully, the plywood was too long for him to reach across.

I studied him more closely. Just Bill was slim and had muscular arms under his polo shirt. Just what I needed, someone chasing me who was stronger and could probably run faster.

"Stupid reporters and their questions. You need to keep your mouth shut. Have you got that?"

Maybe he doesn't want to kill me. Small favor. Big favor, really
. "I'm not a reporter anymore."

"You're helping that phony woman at the TV station."

At least he knew how to tell which reporters had phony attitudes. "She called me. I'm not returning her calls now."

He stopped. "Why not?"

"Whatever she's working on, she wants me to do her legwork. I'm no sucker."

He almost growled. "Neither am I. You told her I helped Syl."

"Did not. You never even told me your last name."

That seemed to register with him.

How did sparkly Candi know to call him?

He started walking around the table again. "You're the only link between me and Syl."

Syl and me
. "Syl said you gave him advice on applying for his contract or something like that. You mean to say no one else in Des Moines knows that?"

He stopped moving around the table and turned toward the door of the barn. "You mind your own business, girlie."

Girlie?
It seemed he realized I didn't send Candi to him. I had nothing to lose. "Why did you kill Hal?"

He turned back, but his expression didn't change. "Thought it was your reporter friend. The guy who offed himself."

I felt hot all over. "Maybe you did it, and he saw you."

"From what I read, there's no proof of anything anybody did that night."

"Since you think that, you must have done it." My voice rose. "You killed Hal, and somehow you knew to frame me for it."
Are you insane? Why are you irritating this man?

"I'm not saying I didn't stumble on your friend doing the deed. He shoulda stayed home."

He was there!

He must have seen something in my expression, because he blinked rapidly a couple of times and moved toward the table again.

My voice was calm. "You say you saw Fred do it. I bet he saw you."

He charged around the table at full run. He'd picked a good time to do it. I wasn't close to either the front or back barn entrance. I grabbed another geranium. I'd never get to the shovel that sat by the barn door, and even if I could get off a swing, he could deflect it. He'd grab the shovel, and my brain would turn into liquid plant fertilizer.

I ran out the barn's front door. My keys were in the truck. Could I make it that far? I got close to the house and could hear him breathing behind me.
I’m not going to make it!

As I dashed by the side steps to the house, I took in something red. It moved.

Just Bill panted hard. "Gotcha you… little shi… argh!"

He went down hard, and Stooper sat on him before Just Bill could move.

Stooper was as red as his shirt. "Don't stand there. Use your phone thing."

AT LEAST I HAD asked Stooper to meet me. If I hadn't, my time alone at Syl's, no matter how brief, would have sent Ambrose into a hollering fit and an online website to buy an ankle bracelet.

"Ambrose, it was fifteen minutes. In a million years, I didn't think anything could happen in fifteen minutes.

"Tell that to Hal and Fred," he snapped.

"Oh, that's helpful. And mean."

He said nothing for several seconds. "Poor choice of words. You know what I'm saying."

If he says Mom and Dad were killed in an instant too, I'm hanging up
. "I get the blink-of-an-eye concept. Even if this guy isn't the killer, I'm still going to work only if Stooper or Syl is there. For a while, anyway."

A woman's voice came from the doorway to Sheriff Gallagher's office, where I was sitting at the conference table. I turned to see his secretary, Sophie. "Sheriff would like you to talk to those two IDI agents. You know who I mean?"

"Wish I didn't," I muttered. "I'll finish with my brother and be right there." She left, and I spoke to Ambrose again. "Hear that?"

"Yeah. Is Brownberg there yet?"

"Did you call him? I didn't do anything. I don't need a lawyer."

"You didn't do anything three weeks ago either, and I'm damn glad we had him. He should be there soon."

I walked from where I'd been sitting in Sheriff Gallagher's office to the conference room down the hall, where I paused in the doorway. I had expected to see Stooper with the sheriff. Instead, it was just Gallagher and Agent Masters. "Where's Stooper?"

"Just answering a few questions," Masters said.

I stayed in the doorway and faced the sheriff. "Are you telling me you're questioning him like a suspect? He probably saved…"

Brownberg's voice was coming toward me. "Melanie."

I looked down the hall and nodded to him. "Sir, could you please go to where Stooper is? I think they're probably treating him the way they treated me for a while."

When Brownberg hesitated, I said, "I'll pay you. Lots of people would probably contribute."

Brownberg leaned into the conference room and looked at Gallagher. "I have been retained for Mr. Sanders. I believe I know the way."

I walked into the room, and Masters said, "Please close the door."

"Only if you have a tape recorder. You've been trying to railroad me since day one." When he said nothing, I sat without closing the door.

I looked first at Sheriff Gallagher. "Why are you letting them do this to people in your town? You said you called them in, that it was still your case."

Gallagher sat stiffly. "It is. I appreciate your help."

I took a breath. "Thanks, but I told you what I know. This guy," I jerked my head toward Masters, "is just looking for ways to get the egg off his face."

Masters sighed, apparently trying to appear plaintive. "I had thought we could…"

"Stuff it. Just ask me questions. I'll answer."

"Very well. What time did you get to Mr. Seaton's property?"

"As you know, about two-forty-five."

"And were you there alone?" Masters asked.

"As you know, I was by myself until the guy who seemed to want to shut me up showed himself."

"And what time was that?"

"As you know, he must have gotten there sometime before two-forty-five."

Masters was sitting very erect. "It's not necessary to say 'as you know.'"

"Ask me questions you don't know the answer to, and I won't say that."

"Melanie," Sheriff Gallagher said, "it doesn't have to take long. Mr. Masters needs to do his job."

"With respect, Sheriff, he's a criminal investigator. He thinks everything needs to be probed three times, even if what happened is as plain as a lightening bug on a July night." I faced Masters. "And he's seen the bug."

A door down the hall closed with force, and footsteps came rapidly toward the conference room. As I turned toward the door to the hallway, Ken Brownberg walked in.

He glared at the sheriff. "Mr. Sanders is leaving now. You've had his cooperation. You can send the browbeater home."

Quieter steps grew closer. Brownberg walked out of the room and nodded to someone down the hall. Stooper followed Brownberg toward the exit. He didn't even look in the conference room.

The three of us were quiet for several seconds. Sheriff Gallagher stood. "Agent Masters, how about you and I go visit with Agent Holcomb."

"I can stay here," Masters said.

"It wasn't a request." Sheriff Gallagher opened the door slightly wider, and Masters preceded him through it. The sheriff didn't look at me.

I stood and walked around the metal interview table twice, thinking it would be awhile before the men came back. However, Sheriff Gallagher and Agents Holcomb and Masters were back in less than two minutes.

Gallagher opened a small notebook. "Okay, we've established timing. Tell me when you first saw Bill Jefferson.

I told him about the prior times Just Bill, now known as Bill Jefferson, had come to Syl's property and then shared our brief conversations.

"Did you see a car today?" Holcomb asked.

Gallagher cleared his throat. "What about a car? Did you see one?"

"Wasn't in the driveway when I drove in. I think he was already in the barn. The earlier times weren't the same cars." I described the Lincoln and mentioned what I thought was a rental sticker on the second car.

A phone on the table near the sheriff buzzed, and he reached for it and pushed a button. "What is it, Granger?"

The deputy must have talked immediately because Gallagher concentrated as he listened.

I realized Jefferson must have left his car somewhere else, because he meant to hurt me and didn't want to be seen on the property.
Hurt me or kill me?

"Okay, Granger. Ask him if he drove a rental car or the Lincoln this afternoon and where it might be. If he'd tell you and let you search, it'd save getting a warrant. If he won't, it tells us something else." The sheriff hung up without explaining himself.

Before he spoke, I figured it was my turn. "Does this Jefferson have a record?"

"I won't know out-of-state information for a bit." He glanced at the IDI agents. "Unless you two can speed that process."

Holcomb nodded at Masters, who stood and left the room.

Gallagher continued. "So this Jefferson made no overt threat toward you yesterday, but you and Stooper didn't, what, like his attitude?"

"He was trying to catch me off-guard, and he said he and Syl weren't friends or pals or something."

"And yet you were there alone today?" Holcomb asked.

"Just for ten minutes or so."

Gallagher gave a look of irritation toward Holcomb and then looked at me. "It can take far less than a minute to kill someone."

WHEN I LEFT THE sheriff, I drove first to the tavern and then to the north end of town where Stooper lived. I finally identified the house because there were several blank headstones in front of a lean-to. However, Stooper's car was nowhere to be found.

I felt as if I had dragged him into something unpleasant, something made worse when his somewhat sloppy demeanor probably meant the IDI agents treated him with less courtesy than they'd showed me.

As if they showed me any courtesy.

I SAT IN BED Thursday night, notepad and pen in hand, and thought about Just Bill. Between everything I'd told the sheriff and his own common sense, he would consider Jefferson Hal's murderer. That was good for me, but a good lawyer could say it was all circumstantial.

The only thing Jefferson's attack on me showed was that he was furious the Quincy television people contacted him and he blamed me for it. He could say he simply didn't want his demands to Syl made public.