Murder in the Library (16 page)

“Maybe you saw me,”
Scott said. “I just took out the trash a few minutes ago.”

“Maybe so, but if you
did, the trash took off around the back of the garage and through the yard
behind just before Lou and I fell.”

I couldn’t recognize
anyone, and there was the possibility that our marathoner wasn’t our murderer,
but someone had run up the drive and taken a shortcut through to the next street.

Lou and I thanked them
for their trouble, then limped back to see if Lightning had waited for us.

When we were firmly
ensconced in the car, Lou turned to me and said, “Cy, next time you see someone
and forget that everyone in the world is faster than you, let me know. I'll
drive around to the next street and cut them off.”

“And what if they don't
cut through to the next street?”

“Then I'll drive around
and take a nap until someone helps you up and lets you resume your
meanderings.”

“Lou, I didn’t realize
that you were so close to me. How come you weren’t wheezing?”

Lou waited until I made
eye contact with him. As he started to open his mouth, I held up my hand to
silence him. Lou was going to credit his Wii for that, too.

+++

I was ready to lean back
in my recliner and read a good book. One good thing about a mystery novel, as
opposed to a real murder, is that within two or three days, I’d know who
committed the crime. I liked it better that way. The people we’d met at the
Scene of the Crime enlightened us about cozy mysteries. Many authors wrote two
series, and most of the time the reader prefers one series to the other. I’d
already read the first book in Carolyn Hart’s
Death On Demand
series,
aptly titled
Death On Demand,
and I was about to tackle the first book
in her Henrie O. series,
Dead Man’s Island.

+++

Sometime before I awoke,
I began to dream. I dreamed of my next-door neighbor, but it was a dream, not a
nightmare. As I left to pick Lou up one morning, I jangled my keys, wanting to
make all the noise I could. It worked. My next-door neighbor opened her door
and dashed outside. She found herself wrapped in barbed wire from head to toe.
My good friend Wile E. Coyote had sneaked over to her place the night before
and wrapped the front of the house in barbed wire, prohibiting my neighbor from
catching me as I left for work or returned home.

Impatient, and wanting
to catch me before I left, she ripped her rags away from the wire, darted back
into the house, and cut through to the back door. She was halfway down the
slide before she realized that her back porch and steps had been replaced by a
long slide that led down a hill. My neighbor didn’t stop until the slide ended
at the muck and mire at the bottom. From muck and mire my neighbor came, and to
muck and mire she returned.

The next nightmare I had
about her, I ran around the back of my house, tripped over her rat, and landed
on her. She reached up and grabbed me, began CPR. I think that is the worst
nightmare I’ve ever had.

I awoke Thursday
morning, turned and looked at the clock. I figured that if I slept another
three hours, I’d be okay. Well, okay in the sense that I’d once again be Cy
Dekker at his best. That wouldn’t have worked. If I’d done so, my good friend
the sergeant would’ve driven over to my house, hopped out of his classic Chevy,
rang my next-door neighbor’s doorbell, and presented her with the spare key he
had to my front door. I didn’t want to wake up with someone licking my face,
and realize that my face was being licked by the lesser of two evils, Muffy, my
next-door neighbor’s dog. I wasn’t sure if I started calling the old vulture’s
dog Muffy because I forgot her name, because it aggravated my neighbor, or
because I refused to call any dog Twinkle Toes. I'm not even sure why I call
her dog a rat. After all, it is a toy French poodle, not a Chihuahua, but a rat
sounds more like something my next-door neighbor would own.

It had been an unusual
April, more sunny days than rainy ones. Maybe that means the rain is waiting
for May. I glanced out the window, saw the new day was another sunny one, then
dashed off to the shower and hopped in. Okay, stumbled in while holding on to
something was closer to the truth, but hopped in sounds better. It takes longer
to clean a beached whale that a submerged one, but eventually the water
temperature began to cool, and, once again, I repeated the pattern that allowed
me to step over the side of the tub a few hours before.

I brushed my teeth,
combed my hair, dressed, learned God’s message to me for the day by reading my
daily devotional book and saying a quick prayer, and then threw a bear trap out
the door to make sure the coast was clear. Evidently my neighbor was too busy
visiting with her sister to molest me. That suited me fine. I wasn’t going to
press my luck. I was leaving that joint.

+++

Lou opened the door,
leaned in.

“The fatted calf.”

“Really, I’ve always
thought of you as more mature than a calf.”

“I’ve always thought of
you as some kind of bull, Cy.”

“Watch yourself. So,
have you just enlightened me with God’s words for us today?”

“To use your
terminology, yes.”

“I hope this means that
someone is going to prepare a grandiose meal for us today.”

“You mean like usual.”

I grinned.

“Yes,” I said, spraying
saliva everywhere.

+++

As Lou and I devoured
our breakfasts, the pay phone in the Blue Moon rang. Rosie turned from what she
was doing and rushed over to answer it. She came back to where Lou and I were
eating, leaned over, and said to me, “Someone asked for His Excellency. I
assume that’s you.”

I laughed and ambled
over to the phone.

“Dekker.”

“You on course number
five yet?”

“Sam, you know I chew my
food.”

“Oh, I forgot you bought
a set of teeth to replace the ones you lost.”

“Very funny. Listen, I
know you didn’t call me here just to see how much Lou and I are enjoying our
breakfasts. Give.”

“I just thought I’d
bring you up to date on what I’ve learned about some of your new friends.”

“And how are the Hilton
sisters?”

“You’re familiar with
the Hiltons?”

“Well, I stayed in their
hotel once.”

“Cy, you’ve never been
out of town. How did you learn about the Hiltons?”

“Okay. Lou and I were in
the barber shop the other day. There was something on the TV about them, and
one of the younger guys got to talking.”

“Well, I hate to
disappoint you, but my information is about some men you’ve been trying to
locate.”

“You’ve found them?”

“Yes and no. I can tell
you this much. I located someone in California who saw Bauerman five months
ago, but he appeared to be traveling through that particular town, not residing
there. I’ve checked all the playhouses I could find, and believe me, there are
a lot of them in California. Anyway, I can’t find a play he’s acted in in over
three years, other than a couple of weekends where he stood in for someone. In New York, he was in a play every chance he got. Not true of his time in California. He’s
been there for seven years, and each year he seems to disappear for longer
periods of time. And I’ve found no record of him anywhere else. Definitely no evidence
that he’s been back in our area.”

“Okay, what else do you
have for me?”

“Well, I was just
talking to someone at the department, and they’ve been trying to get ahold of
you. Tom Johnson’s next-door neighbor called, the guy in the house next door,
not the woman who lives on the other side of the duplex. Anyway, Johnson came
back. The neighbor saw him last night and called the department this morning.
However, from what I can ascertain, Johnson left again.”

“Don’t you have anything
better for me?”

“Ask and ye shall
receive. Guess who’s taken an apartment in our little burg. Daniel Terloff.
Moved in a week or so ago.”

“So one of our prodigal
sons has returned.”

“That’s right. Let me
give you the address”

I jotted Terloff’s
address down in my notebook, thanked Sam for getting in touch, then hung up and
returned to Lou. I saw that Rosie was in the back, and there was no one else
around.

“Well, Lou, I’ve got bad
news.”

“What’s that, Your
Majesty?”

“You weren’t listening.
It’s Your Excellency. Anyway, it looks like someone is about to kill the fatted
calf for us.”

“One of our prodigal
sons returned?”

“How did you know?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you,
Cy? I read the Bible now. I know the story of the prodigal son and the fatted
calf.”

“Yes, Your Arrogance. Do
you mind if I finish my breakfast?”

“Oh were you still
eating that? I didn’t know. I dumped an ashtray on it.”

“This place doesn’t have
ashtrays. Just finish your food. And don’t play in it like you usually do.”

There had been some
debate among the mentally gifted, of which Lou and I were two, whether or not
pancakes for breakfast count as a dessert. Both Lou and I are from the old
school. We believe that pancakes are a part of the main course, and thus
shouldn’t be considered a dessert. However, both of us believe that a man
should limit his fruit intake, so we ordered two slices of cream pie each. I
ordered coconut cream and chocolate pie. Lou selected banana cream and
butterscotch. Between us, we’d ordered most of the cream pie food groups, of
which someone should have at least four servings a day.

+++

Lou and I opened
Lightning’s doors, climbed inside, fluffed our pillows, and buckled up. It
appeared that the seatbelts had shrunk while we were having breakfast. After we
had secured ourselves and were ready for wherever our mission would take us, I
gave Lou the details Sam had told me. We dismissed the idea of traveling the
entire state of California looking for Bauerman, and decided on which of the
other two to tackle first. If our information was correct, Johnson had returned
but skedaddled again, so Johnson’s neighbor could wait. I wanted to get a look
at the elusive Daniel Terloff. Nothing in Hilldale is too far from anything
else, so in a matter of minutes, I turned on to Terloff’s street.

I eased Lightning over
to the curb. Before us stood a moderately priced apartment building of eight
apartments, each with its own outside entrance. Each apartment was marked with
a number, so it wasn’t hard to find number three. We got out, walked up to the
door, and knocked. A man of around thirty years of age answered our knock.

“Daniel Terloff?”

“Let me see. You have no
religious tracts, so I doubt if you’re affiliated with any of those religious
groups people have a tendency to avoid. Although I am new to the neighborhood, you’re
not my idea of the Welcome Wagon, so I’ll rule them out. You could be here to
let me take advantage of one of those monstrous pizza deals, but I see nothing
in your hands. From the looks of the two of you, you’re not here to entice me
into joining a health club. But when I look at the two of you, I cannot help
but think of Frank Cannon or Nero Wolfe. So, I assume the two of you’re cops,
city or private.”

“So, you’re familiar
with William Conrad. I am impressed that one so young is familiar with him. But
did you know that he was the voice of Matt Dillon of
Gunsmoke
on the
radio?”

“I imagine that every
horse in captivity breathed a sigh of relief when James Arness was chosen for
the Dillon role on TV.”

“The young man knows his
stuff. But I’m disappointed that you don’t think we are affiliated with a
health club. I’ll have you know that the two of us recently began an exercise
program. We began with one trip up and down an escalator a day and are working
our way up to ten.”

The young man laughed.

“No matter who you are,
you have provided free entertainment for me today. Yes, I’m Daniel Terloff.
After a bad experience in college, I recently returned to this fair city after
spending ten years finding myself.”

“Then you should be impressed
with us. It took us only a little over a week to find you.”

“Then you must be police
officers. If not, the department could use a couple of men like you. From the
silence of your friend, I assume you go by the names Penn and Teller.”

“And may I assume that you’re
starring nightly as a stand-up comedian in some fine establishment?”

“Touché.”

“Let me introduce
ourselves. I’m Lt. Dekker and my silent friend is Sgt. Murdock. As you so aptly
guessed, we’re with the Hilldale Police Department.”

“And what brings you
fine gentlemen to see me today?”

“Professor James Buckham
Hardesty.”

“Don’t tell me that he’s
still sore about that can of paint?”     

“So you admit you threw
the can of paint at his house?”

“Has the statute of
limitations run out on that yet?”

“I have no idea. We’re
here on a larger matter. Murder.”

“Are you saying that the
professor or some member of his family has been murdered?”

“Are you saying that you
don’t know?”

“I am. I’ve been back in
Hilldale only a few days. I’m currently looking for work, and have consulted an
employment agency to assist me in that process. I’m also toying with the idea
of going back to school.”

“Col. Buck Hardesty was
murdered a week ago Monday. Where were you on that day?”

“You’re serious, aren’t
you?”

“Dead serious.”

“You don’t think I still
had it in for Prof. Hardesty, do you?”

“Are you saying you
didn’t?”

“No, that was part of
the reason I got away. I wanted to be able to control my anger.”

“And you have?”

“Yes. I spent several
years alone. Much of the good weather I spent in the woods, nature, spending
time with God. It took a while, but I got over my vindictiveness. I stayed on
in the woods because I liked the peace and tranquility that that lifestyle
provided. I only came back because I know that eventually I’ll need to earn a
living.”

“And how did you provide
for yourself during these last ten years?”

“I made friends. I did
odd jobs. I accepted handouts. I had and needed nothing except a tent, a
backpack, a sleeping bag for camping out in the winter, a few clothes, and
enough food to get me by.”

“And you no longer
resent Prof. Hardesty for not giving you the grade you thought you deserved?”

“No. I mean I still
think I deserved that grade, but I came to think of it merely as a difference
of opinion.”

“And do you have alibi
for that day?”

“When did you say it
was?”

“Monday of last week.”

“I rented this apartment
on Saturday, was here over the weekend. I was at an employment agency up until
lunch on Monday, came back to my apartment after that.”

“Mr. Terloff, I’d like for
you to look at these pictures and see if you recognize anyone.”

“Oh, I see you have an
old picture of me. And I remember this guy, but I can’t think of his name. He
taught at the college. As I can remember, he was someone who didn’t like Prof.
Hardesty. Tried to get me to join him in some lawsuit. And this last guy looks
like someone who might’ve lived in the woods, like I did.”

“Have you actually seen
this person?”

“No, I saw a couple of
guys who long hair and beards, but not this particular guy.”

“I assume by what you
said that you plan to stick around a while.”

2“Absolutely, unless the
big city life becomes too much for me.”

“Well, I wouldn't
exactly call Hilldale a big city.”

“No, but I've already
encountered a few more humans than I did in the ten years I was away.”

I thanked Terloff for
his time, and Lou and I left.

I opened the driver’s
side door, got in, and turned to Lou.

“Well, Lou, what do you
think?”

“About Terloff?”

“Right.”

“He seemed like he was
telling the truth, but who knows. Except for Belding, no one we’ve met seemed
to have it in for the Colonel. Yet most of the time it isn’t the most likely
suspect, at least not this far into the case. Those types you pick up in a day
or two, or as soon as you can gather enough evidence to arrest them. There’s no
evidence leading toward anyone, except some guy who, more than likely, doesn’t
exist.”

“You mean the
long-haired, bearded guy?”

“That's right.”

“Oh, he exists, all
right, but more than likely not as a long-haired, bearded guy.”

“Isn't that what I
said?”

+++

We had time to cruise by
Johnson’s duplex before lunch. We did, and found the neighbor in his yard.

“You the one who
called,” I asked as we pulled ourselves from the car and approached him.

“That’s right. You said
to let you know, and I thought you might want to know that the guy next door
returned. Only I didn’t see him when he came back. I saw him when he was
leaving again. I made some comment about not having seen him in a while, and he
said he’d been away to take care of his sick mother, and his sister came for a
few days to take care of her, so he came back to get a few of his things. He
said he hoped to be back in a few weeks.”

“Anything else that
might interest us? Have you seen anyone else in the duplex?”

“No to both. No lights.
No people. Just last night for a while.”

“Did he seem nervous in
any way?”

“Not nervous exactly. He
seemed like he always seemed. In a hurry. The way a lot of guys are. But then
it wasn’t like I was around him a lot and got to know him.”

“Well, thank you for your
time, Mr. Simons.”

Again, Lou and I
returned to the car. Because Simons was still in the front yard, I waited until
after we pulled away before pumping Lou.

“Any feeling on this
one, Lou?”

“For some reason I feel
that this guy Johnson is either our most likely or least likely suspect. He
could be someone who’s telling the truth and has no idea we’re looking for him,
or he could be our murderer. The only thing that bothers me about him is what
reason he would have for wanting to murder the Colonel. He could have gotten
the key, but why would he want it? We can find no connection between Johnson
and the Colonel. The guy’s only been in town for a year, and it checks out that
he was in Indiana for two years before that. And he does look too short and too
stout to be the long-haired guy in the picture.”

Lou was right. We could
almost make a case for any of our suspects, but we could just as easily
eliminate them. There didn’t seem to be one person who seemed guiltier than any
of the others. At least not to Lou and me.