Grace Sees Red (23 page)

“I see two possibilities,” I said. “Either someone wants to invalidate your insurance claim, or someone wants the police to believe Gus wasn't murdered.”

At that moment, Percy rolled in. “Why were you looking for me?” he asked. “How's Frances? Is she coming out to see me tomorrow? Do you know?”

Dan looked like someone who'd been smacked upside the head with a two-by-four. I decided to give him time to process my theories before I asked him about likely pamphlet-planting suspects. But I had my own suspicions in that matter.

“Percy,” I said. “Just the man I'm looking for.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don't like the sound of that.”

“Do you remember when Dan caught me digging through his father's toiletries on Monday?” I asked as I pointed toward the bathroom. “Of course you do. The minute Dan showed up, you scurried back in here.”

“What of it?”

I waited.

Percy squirmed in his wheelchair.

“Where is it, Percy?” I asked.

Next to me, Dan looked utterly befuddled.

Percy raised his chin defiantly. “Where's what?”

“You know what I'm looking for,” I said. “Gus's moonshine. The jar Anton brought him last week.”

Obviously dumbfounded, Dan pointed at Percy. “He has it?” To Percy: “
You
have it?”

Percy's mouth twitched and he looked away.

Dan started to pace again. “Anton's been bugging me and Harland about that.” Still holding the brochure copy, he raised both hands to hold his head. “I don't know what's going on around here anymore. Everybody's got secrets.”

“What difference does it make?” Percy asked me. “Gus didn't need it anymore.”

“Where is it?” I asked again. “In your room? That's why
you didn't want me following you in there on Monday, isn't it? While Dan cornered me in here, you were busy hiding it in your room, weren't you?”

“I guess I can't pull anything over on you, Miss Detective.”

“Let's go,” I said. “Show me where it is.”

We followed Percy across the man-cave and into his bedroom. Although he groused mightily, he led us to a pile of books on a shelf next to his refrigerator. The jar of moonshine was tucked behind the small stack.

“Why?” I asked.

The jar's contents sloshed as he heaved it onto the windowsill. “Why shouldn't I take it? Kyle and I both had to put up with having Gus as a roommate, but he always invited Kyle—never me—to share his stash. I deserved some, too.”

The jar appeared to be three-quarters full. “How much have you had?”

“Only one shot a night since Monday.”

“Any ill effects?” I asked. “Any unexplained reactions?”

“Worried about me, are you?” A corner of Percy's mouth quirked up. “Nah, I'm fine. Same as always.”

“How did the police miss this?” I asked.

“Beats me,” Percy said. “I heard this was their first homicide. They've probably got a lot to learn.”

Dan stared up at the ceiling. “I don't know what to make of this.”

“What's with him?” Percy asked.

I stepped closer to Dan and slid the pamphlet out of his hand. Dan regarded me curiously, but didn't stop me.

I dropped the paper onto Percy's lap. “Now tell me about this.”

He edged his hand close to the edge of the page, tapping to straighten it. Squinting down at it, he asked, “What are you talking about? What is this?”

“Cathy found this in Gus's bathroom.”

I gave him a moment to absorb its meaning. When he finished, he used the side of his hand to shove it away, as though wanting to distance himself from it. “Gus wouldn't
have even entertained the idea of assisted suicide. Not for a minute. Besides, this looks like it was printed off a computer. Gus didn't use computers.”

“I don't believe Gus left it there,” I said. “It wasn't there on Monday when I went through the cabinet.”

“So why are you showing it to me?”

“Why did you leave it in Gus's bathroom cabinet?”

Percy's reaction—surprised confusion—seemed genuine. “I've never seen that paper before.”

“Really?” Although I believed him, I decided to press to be certain. “You didn't think that planting seeds of doubt by making the police believe Gus had considered suicide would help take the heat off Frances?”

Sudden comprehension dawned, suffusing his face with stunned delight. “It could, couldn't it?” he said. “Wish I'd thought of it. But no, sorry to say. I didn't.”

I took it back. “If you didn't plant it there, who did?”

We both turned to Dan.

“Do you have any ideas?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I'm fresh out of them.”

As I prepared to leave the apartment, I hoisted my purse onto my shoulder and tied my spring jacket around its straps. I'd wrapped one of Percy's hand towels around the jar of moonshine so as not to add my fingerprints to whatever evidence lingered there, and tucked the toweled burden into the crook of my elbow.

I'd gotten as far as the man-cave with my parcels when the apartment door opened and Debbie walked in. With her were the two detectives, Nieman and Madigan. Madigan held the clear plastic bag containing the trifold brochure.

“Oh good, you found Percy,” Debbie said to me before turning to Dan. “I was about to show these two officers where Cathy and I found your father's brochure.”

“My father didn't commit suicide,” Dan said to the two detectives. “Ask Grace here. She'll tell you.” He nudged my arm. “Tell them what you told me. That this paper was planted in his room.”

Madigan blew out an exasperated sigh. “What now, Ms. Wheaton?”

As I explained the situation, Nieman took notes.

“Could you have missed it when you were here Monday?” Madigan asked.

“Not a chance,” I said. “I took that cabinet's contents out and put each item back one at a time. It wasn't there.”

“Why were you going through Mr. Westburg's belongings?” Nieman asked.

I hesitated. “I thought I'd see if anything had been overlooked.”

“You mean by us?” Madigan asked.

“Or the evidence techs. Whoever searched Gus's room.”

“That would be us,” she said.

“Doesn't matter why she was in there,” Nieman said. “What matters is that she says this paper wasn't there Monday. Would you swear to that?” she asked me.

“Absolutely.”

Madigan frowned. “I don't get you. This is the first inkling we have that Mr. Westburg may have contemplated suicide. If he did, then your friend Frances is off the hook. Why volunteer information that can't help her?”

“Because it's the truth,” I said. “And the more truth we all have, the quicker we'll find out how Gus really died.” Before Madigan could dismiss me, I said, “And then there's this.” I held up the towel-wrapped jar of moonshine.

The two detectives exchanged a look.

“Care to explain?” Madigan asked.

I did, finishing with “Now that we've recovered it, I assume you'll want to take it to the lab to have the contents tested for poison.”

Nieman scratched the side of her head. “Are you saying we missed this when we removed items from the victim's room on Sunday?”

“Apparently so.”

Madigan glared at Percy. “Does the term ‘tampering with evidence' mean anything to you?”

Percy looked away.

I handed the jar to Nieman. “I'm sure Percy will be happy to cooperate with your department if it means getting to the truth. Right, Percy?”

He didn't answer.

“Even if we do find reason to suspect that Anton Holcroft killed the victim, the fact that this jar was removed from the room could hinder our investigation,” Madigan said. “There's a thing called chain of custody that applies to evidence.”

I knew that, but I also knew that this revelation had the potential to help Frances's case. A lot.

Madigan worked her jaw. “You,” she said to me, while pointing to the red sofa, “wait here.” Turning to Debbie, she said, “You show me where this paper was found.”

I sat on the red sofa, dropping my jacket and purse next to me. Percy pulled up and sat to my left. Dan stared after the nurse and cops as they disappeared into his father's room.

“I don't know anything anymore,” he said. “I just don't know.”

Percy stared at his hands in his lap.

A few minutes later, the threesome emerged. “Okay, now your turn,” Madigan said to me. Turning to Percy, she added, “You, too. Show me where you hid this.”

“What difference would that make?”

“We like to be thorough, okay?” Madigan said.

She and Nieman followed us into Percy's room, where he dutifully pointed out his hidey-hole. “Right there,” he said. “I had it behind those books.”

Madigan expanded a telescoping baton and used the narrow end to explore the area for a couple of minutes. She may have been seeking to appear official, but she came across as petty and desperate. Nieman stared over her partner's shoulder.

“Finding lots of clues in there, Officer?” Percy taunted.

With tiny taps, Madigan continued to poke around. “What else did you take from Gus's room?” she asked without looking up.

“Nothing,” Percy said. He turned to me with accusation in his eyes. “What did you tell her?”

I held both hands up. “All I knew about was the moonshine,” I said.
And the factory-sealed scotch,
I thought. But
that had been taken from Anton directly, not from Gus. “Why, is there more?”

Percy glared at me.

Nieman turned to face him. “Fess up now and I'll consider overlooking your infraction.”

“You think I could have managed to sneak out more than one jar?” He held up fingers that resembled crooked twigs. “With these hands?”

“You could have gone through Gus's room before I got here,” I said.

His glare intensified. “You're not helping matters.”

“I'm trying to help Frances.”

“Fine,” he said. “The truth is, I'd completely forgotten about the moonshine until Grace asked to see Gus's room. When we were in there, I remembered it and thought that—if the opportunity arose—I'd grab it. The opportunity did arise and I took it.” He stared up at Madigan. “That's the truth. You want to handcuff me and wheel me in on charges, have at it. I've got nothing else to tell you.”

The detectives must have believed him, because they exchanged an uneasy glance. Madigan gave a brisk nod. “Let's go,” she said.

Debbie and Dan were waiting for us in the man-cave. He still held on to the copy of the assisted-suicide brochure.

“May I see that a moment?” I asked.

“This? Why? You said yourself that my dad couldn't have put it there.”

“That's actually the copy Grace asked us to make.” Debbie winked at me as she tugged the paper out of Dan's hands. “I'll go make another copy for you, okay?”

“Thank you,” I said.

After she left, the police asked a few more questions, then—apparently satisfied—took off themselves. Debbie returned moments later. “Here you go,” she said as she handed one copy of the brochure to me and another to Dan. “I made one for our files, too. Just in case.”

Dan didn't thank her. “I'm not happy about this. Not happy at all.”

Percy shrugged. “I'm probably in trouble.”

“Let's worry about that later,” I said as I grabbed my things. “Right now I'm thrilled to be able to tell Frances that there are two interesting developments that can help point the police in the right direction.”

“Away from her,” Percy said.

“Exactly.” I nodded. “I was hoping Gus died a natural death. Right now, it's looking more and more as though someone murdered him. With any luck, today's developments will put the police solidly on the guilty party's trail.”

*   *   *

I returned to Marshfield in a triumphant mood. Even though we were no closer to figuring out what had truly happened to Gus, I believed we were a lot closer to clearing Frances's name. After alerting Lily Holland and sharing the updates with our homicide detectives, Frances, Bennett, and I gathered in my office for the last half hour of the workday before we took off for the weekend.

“I knew you'd find evidence to help me,” Frances said. Turning to Bennett, she added, “Of course, it took her a little longer because I wasn't able to help, but we knew she'd come through eventually, didn't we?”

“Let's not celebrate yet,” I said, though I was finding it hard to tamp down my own good cheer. “The police won't back off their interest in you until there's something more substantial to work with than a planted pamphlet and a renegade jar of moonshine.”

“But it may be enough for Lily to work with,” Bennett said.

“It may.”

“Good. Then that's settled.” Frances crossed her arms.

“What is?” Bennett asked.

“I'm visiting Percy tomorrow.”

“Going back to Indwell?” I asked, aghast. “No. Not a good idea. Didn't Lily tell you to stay away from the place until you were completely cleared?”

“She
encouraged
me to stay away from Indwell. She didn't forbid me to go.”

“I don't think it's a good idea, Frances,” Bennett said. “Let's give Grace and the police a little more time.”

“With very few exceptions, I always visit Percy on weekends. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I refuse to stay locked up in my own house because some toddler detectives think they have a case against me.”

“I wouldn't risk it,” I said.

“Good thing I'm not letting you decide then, isn't it?” she said. “I'm convinced that we're on the right track now. And I refuse to miss my weekend visit.”

Bennett and I exchanged helpless glances.

“It comes down to this,” Frances said. “I've got nothing to worry about, do I? And yet, I've been cowering back here at Marshfield like I'm scared they'll find out the truth. Well, I know the truth. I'm innocent. And it's about time I start acting like it.”

When I opened my mouth to protest further, she pointed at me. “Not another word. Tomorrow I'm going to Indwell.”

Bennett pinched his lips together.

“Fine,” I said. “Then I'm going with you.”

She blinked, clearly surprised. A second later, she shook her head. “I plan to stay at a nearby hotel and not come back to Emberstowne until Sunday. You have to let me go on my own.”

“Until this is over, not a chance,” I said. “I'll pack a bag.”