Murder by the Slice (30 page)

Erskine glared darkly at her. “You nosey old bitch! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That lady is my mother,” Mike said in a hard, dangerous voice, “and I’m having a hard time right now remembering that I’m an officer of the law.”

“Yeah, but I’m a civilian,” Sam said as he turned toward Erskine and his big, knobby-knuckled hands clenched into fists.

Mike lifted a hand to motion Sam back, and Phyllis took hold of his arm. “It’s all right,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what he says now. Now it’s just a matter of evidence.”

“Evidence of what?” Erskine demanded. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You should look in those boxes in the back of his pickup,” Phyllis told Mike. “I believe you’ll find the things that were stolen from Loving Elementary in that burglary a while back.”

Mike frowned in thought, then shook his head. “I’m not touching a thing in that pickup until the sheriff gets here with a search warrant.”

“We saw him loadin’ the boxes,” Sam said. “He took ‘em out of a shed in the Dunstons’ backyard.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah, and that’s suspicious enough a judge might allow a search to stand up, but he might not, too. And I’m not taking a chance with this one.” He still had a hard stare fixed on the prisoner. “I take it this is Lane Erskine?”

“That’s right,” Phyllis said.

“I checked him out. He was arrested when he was eighteen on suspicion of heading up a burglary ring made up of other teenagers. One of the bunch was going to testify against him. But then the witness recanted, and the charges were eventually dropped due to lack of evidence.”

“Kirk Warren,” Phyllis said. “He must have been the witness. But he decided not to testify, and Shannon sent him off to military school.”

“And then later this one and Kirk picked up where they’d left off, robbin’ folks,” Sam put in.

“Until Shannon found out and threatened to turn them both in. That’s why Lane killed her.”

Erskine stared at her for a second, then howled, “I didn’t kill anybody! Damn it, this is all a lie!”

“We’ll sort it out,” Mike said grimly, “but in the meanwhile, shut up.” He grasped Erskine’s arm and steered the young man toward the cruiser that was stopped at the curb, its lights still flashing.

While Mike secured Erskine in the backseat of the car and read him his rights, Phyllis and Sam climbed into the cab of Sam’s pickup to get out of the chilly November wind. They waited there for the sheriff and the rest of the backup Mike called for to arrive.

“I thought he was going to kill you,” Phyllis said quietly.

“He made a good stab at it, so to speak,” Sam replied with a dry chuckle.

“It’s not funny,” Phyllis insisted. “My meddling in this case almost got you killed.”

“Your meddlin’, as you call it, uncovered a murderer. The way I see it, that’s worth a few risks.”

Phyllis didn’t say anything, but she wasn’t sure it was worth risking Sam Fletcher’s life. She wasn’t sure about that at all.

More police cars converged on the neighborhood, this time with sirens blaring as well as lights flashing. Not many people were home at this time of day during the week, but the few who were came out of their houses to see what was going on. Between the lawmen, the bystanders, and Phyllis and Sam, who got out of the pickup to join Mike, there was actually quite a crowd.

Sheriff Haney had moved quickly to get a search warrant. He had the document with him, so after being filled in by Mike, the sheriff opened one of the cardboard boxes in the back of Lane Erskine’s pickup. Phyllis lifted herself on her toes to get a better view of what was inside the box and saw a couple of computer towers.

“The serial numbers have been scratched off the outside,” Haney said, “but I bet we’ll be able to identify them. The school district etches ID numbers on the inside of the cases.”

Erskine had been taken out of the back of Mike’s car to observe the search, and from the pained look that passed briefly over his face at the sheriff’s words, Phyllis would have been willing to bet that he hadn’t done anything to try to obliterate those hidden ID numbers. He probably hadn’t even known about them.

Opening the rest of the boxes revealed more computers, monitors, printers, some digital cameras and cordless phones, and other assorted electronic equipment. Haney grinned at Erskine and commented, “Not a bad haul for small-time crooks. It would have netted them a thousand dollars, maybe fifteen hundred if they were lucky.”

“And a woman died for that,” Phyllis said.

Mike reached into another of the boxes. “And this,” he said as he lifted out a metal cash box. “He must’ve taken the key to the school secretary’s desk off of Ms. Dunston after he killed her. Just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to steal something else, even after he’d committed murder.”

Erskine didn’t say anything now. He just stared down sullenly at the ground. Phyllis had a hunch he wouldn’t say anything, but rather as soon as possible would get lawyered up.

A car drove fast down the street and stopped with a squeal of tires. Joel Dunston jumped out of the vehicle, obviously upset and frightened by the sight of so many official cars parked in front of his house.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “What is all this?”

Behind him, Becca and Kirk got out of the car more slowly. Phyllis watched Kirk, saw him go stiff with fear at the sight of Lane Erskine in handcuffs.

“You’re Dunston, aren’t you?” the sheriff said to Joel. “It looks like the prisoner here had some stolen property stashed in your backyard shed. He was trying to move it while you were gone.”

Mike added, “There’s also a good chance that he’s the one who murdered your ex-wife.”

Joel stared at Erskine for a second, then turned to look at Kirk. “Did you know anything about this?”

Kirk had gone pale at Mike’s accusation of Erskine. He came up the driveway, shaking his head. “I didn’t,” he said hollowly. “I swear I didn’t.”

“He’s a damned liar!” Erskine burst out. “He knew the stuff was back there. He helped me steal it. We got in the school with a key that
he
had!”

Breath hissed between Kirk’s teeth. “You killed my mother, man? You killed my
mother
?”

Mike grabbed him as he leaped at Erskine, his hands outstretched and reaching for the prisoner’s throat. As Mike and another deputy wrestled him to the ground, Kirk sobbed, “You bastard! You bastard! You didn’t have to
do
that! I told you I could handle her!”

“Like you did a few years ago when she almost got both of us sent to jail? You’re a wimp, Warren. You’ve always been a wimp.”

“Save it all for your official statements,” Haney told them. He pointed at Kirk. “Put him in cuffs, too. We’re taking both of them in.” He looked at Joel and added, “Sorry, Mr. Dunston.”

Joel just stood there, an arm around Becca’s shoulders. He looked so stunned that he was barely able to comprehend what was going on. It had been one shock after another for him, for a good while now. Phyllis didn’t blame him for feeling overwhelmed.

Mike stepped up beside her and said quietly, “You and Sam will have to come in, too, Mom, so we can get statements from the two of you. You’ll need to run through the whole thing for us.”

She nodded. “Whatever I can do to help.”

“Looks to me like you already did more than help,” Sam said. “You solved the whole darn case.”

Yes, Phyllis thought, the truth had come out.

But as usual, the truth was less than completely satisfying.

“I don’t know if you want this anymore,” Mike said that evening as he handed a big plastic cake box to Phyllis. Inside the box was the jack-o’-lantern cake from the carnival. “It’s been sitting in the evidence room at the sheriff’s department for the past few days,” Mike went on. “It’s probably a little stale by now.”

“Thanks for bringing it back. It should still be all right.” Phyllis backed away from the front door. “Can you come in and sit down for a few minutes?”

Mike took off his hat as he stepped into the house. “Yeah, I figured you and Mr. Fletcher would want to hear how everything turned out.”

“The others are in the living room. I’ll put this cake in the kitchen and be right back.”

When she returned to the living room, she found Mike and Sam sitting in armchairs while Carolyn and Eve were on the sofa. Phyllis took the other armchair and asked, “What else have you found out?”

“Kirk Warren’s been talking all day, spilling everything he knows,” Mike said. “That’s not much of a surprise. He wants to cut a deal with the DA, of course, and he probably will. But he’s confessed to getting his mother’s key to the school and making a copy of it so that he and Erskine could burglarize the place. He said they still had the loot because the fence that Erskine usually used got busted a while back, and they were having trouble finding somebody else to take the stuff off their hands.” Mike shook his head. “They really weren’t very good criminals. If they hadn’t gotten caught this time, they would have sooner or later.”

“What about Shannon’s murder?” Phyllis asked.

“According to Kirk, she found the key he had, recognized

it, and figured out that he and Erskine were responsible for the burglary. She wanted Kirk to turn himself in and testify against Erskine, just like you thought, Mom. Kirk was dumb enough to tell Erskine that his mother was on to them, and Erskine threatened to kill her then and there. But Kirk talked him out of it and promised Erskine that he could handle the problem. I guess Erskine didn’t trust him, though. When he saw a chance to get rid of Mrs. Dunston, he took it.”

Sam asked, “Are you gonna be able to prove that?”

“We’ve got Kirk’s testimony that Erskine threatened to kill her, as well as the stolen property,” Mike said, “and our crime scene people recovered some tissue from under Mrs. Dunston’s fingernails that must have gotten there when she clawed at the killer as she was dying. I’m betting Erskine will be a DNA match for that tissue, and that ought to be all we need to tie him up nice and tight.”

“Goodness, I hope so,” Eve said. “It’s terrible to think that people like that are running around loose.”

“What about Nicole?” Phyllis asked.

“Who?”

“Lane Erskine’s daughter.”

Mike made a face. “Oh, yeah. He had shared custody with the mother, who’s been in and out of jail several times for possession and solicitation. What a pair to have for parents. Anyway, I think Child Protective Services will probably try to place her in foster care. The mother doesn’t need to have sole custody, that’s for sure, and there’s a real good chance Erskine won’t be out of jail any time soon, if ever.”

“I hope it all works out,” Phyllis said with a sigh. “The poor child certainly wasn’t to blame for any of it.”

Carolyn asked, “What about the money that was stolen from the PTO? Was any of it recovered?”

“Most of it was still in the cash box,” Mike replied. “So that’s one good thing that came out of this, anyway.”

“That’s right,” Carolyn said. “Now they won’t have to

have a bake sale or something to try to make up for what they lost!”

It was late when Sam came into the kitchen as Phyllis was closing the refrigerator. She had just poured herself a small glass of milk. The house was quiet, Carolyn and Eve having already turned in for the night.

Sam wore pajamas and a bathrobe, as did Phyllis. He smiled at the glass of milk in her hand and said, “Ah. Great minds work alike.”

“You’re thirsty, too?”

“A little.” He got a glass from the cabinet and opened the refrigerator. “I’m more of an orange juice man, myself, though.”

When he had poured his juice they stood there, leaning against the counter on either side of the sink and sipping from their glasses. After a moment he asked, “What are you gonna do about Marie Tyler?”

“I thought you had something on your mind,” Phyllis said. “Do you mean, am I going to tell her about Russ and Shannon?”

“Yep.”

Phyllis didn’t answer for a moment. Then she said, “I don’t think so. What would be the point?”

“Might save Marie from some trouble down the road. I don’t have too high an opinion of her husband.”

Phyllis finished her milk, washed the glass, and put it in the drainer next to the sink. “Neither do I, but she probably knows him a lot better than we do. Maybe he’ll keep that wandering eye of his under control from now on.”

Sam didn’t look convinced of that, but he nodded. “I guess folks have enough trouble making a go of life these days without lookin’ for problems.” He drank the rest of his orange juice, turned to the sink to wash out the glass, and put it in the drainer next to hers. That brought him close enough to her so that he could reach over to where she had a hand resting on the counter. He laid his hand on top of hers, but left it there only for a second before he patted it and said, “Good night, Phyllis.”

“Good night, Sam,” she said. He smiled at her and left the kitchen. She heard the stairs creaking a little as he climbed them. The autumn wind brushed a branch against a window somewhere.

She was smiling, too, as she turned out the light.

Peanut-Butter-and-Banana Cookies

1

⁄4 cup sugar

1

⁄2 teaspoon baking powder
1

⁄4 cup firmly packed

1

⁄2 teaspoon baking soda

brown sugar
1 cup quick-cooking oats
1

⁄2 cup margarine or butter,

softened
1 egg
1 medium banana, mashed
1 cup all purpose flour

1

⁄2 cup peanut butter
1

⁄3 cup applesauce

Preheat oven to 375° F. In a large bowl, combine the sugar, brown sugar, margarine, and egg; beat well. Add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt; mix well. Stir in the oats, peanut butter, applesauce, and mashed banana. Drop the dough by heaping teaspoonfuls 2 inches apart onto cookie sheets covered with parchment paper, or lightly greased. Bake for 12 to 14 minutes or until light golden brown. Remove from cookie sheets and cool completely.