Murder in the Library (8 page)

Martha greeted us almost
as soon as we rang the bell. She seemed nervous and distraught. My emotions
matched hers. I looked around, saw no one else, and again asked her where she
went Monday, and if anyone saw her. She appeared not to be thinking clearly and
was no help to me. I asked to borrow the same room for questioning that we had
used before and asked her to send Jennifer in first.

The tall, pretty, young
woman with hair the color of honey walked in. She was more composed than her
grandmother.

“Please, have a seat,
Jennifer. This will take only a few minutes.”

Jennifer sat and Lou and
I took chairs across from her.

“Jennifer, tell me where
you were Monday afternoon.”

“I was in school on
Monday.”

“But you skipped your
last class. Why?”

“Actually I had the
prof’s permission, and Scott wanted me to go somewhere with him.”

“And where did you go?”

“I’ll tell you,
Lieutenant, but please don’t tell Gram. She might get the wrong idea. Scott
wants us to start a family. I prefer to wait until we both finish school. Scott
doesn’t think this place is conducive to raising a family. I think Gram would
love a baby in the house, especially now. I love my husband, but I think he’s
moving too quickly.”

“You don’t think your
grandmother knows. What about your grandfather? Did he know?”

“I don’t think so.
Neither of us ever said anything to him.”

“So where did the two of
you go on Monday?”

“There’s a little house
for sale over on Mulberry. We went by and looked at it.”

“So a realtor can vouch
that you were there?”

“No, we just stopped by,
looked in the windows, looked out back. Lieutenant, do you think I’m wrong for
dragging my feet? I want to do what’s right for my marriage.”

“That’s something the
two of you have to work out for yourselves.”

I could see I wasn’t
getting anything else out of Jennifer, so I had Lou go get her husband. If they
hadn’t had time to agree on where they were on Monday, I didn’t want to give
them a chance do so before I talked to each of them separately.

It didn’t matter.
Scott’s story agreed with his wife’s. The only other thing I could get out of
Scott was that in some ways he was tired of living in a castle where he had
only one room to call his own and someone else decided the menu and at what
time they ate.

+++

After Scott left, Lou
escorted Trish into the den and asked her to have a seat.

“Sorry to have to talk
to you under these circumstances, Trish, but I needed to check with everyone.
Where were you on Monday afternoon?”

“Well, I had class until
1:50. Then I went to the Student Center to grab some lunch. See, I have
classes from 10:00 on, and 2:00 is the first chance I have to eat. It was tough
at first, but I’ve gotten used to it.”

“And what time did you
leave the Student Center?”

“Probably a little after
3:30. I’m not sure.”

“Why did you stay so
long?”

“Well, I took my time
eating and studying, and then I got to talking to a couple of people.”

“Can anyone verify that
you were there?”

“I’m not sure. I mean
I’m sure there are people who can say they saw me, but whether or not they’ll
remember that it was Monday, I’m not sure.”

“But you’re sure it was
Monday?”

“Of course, Lieutenant.
Monday was the day my life turned upside down. I loved Gramps. I’ll miss him. I
should’ve told him that more often, but he seemed to be in the library all the
time. I mean unless we were eating. I didn’t get time alone with him the way I
used to.”

With that, Trish shed a
few tears. They seemed genuine, but women have a way of manipulating men any
time they feel the need.

+++

Tom Brockman was the
only one left to question. As soon as he sat down I confronted him on where he
was on Monday afternoon.

“In my office.”

“We have witnesses who
say you weren’t.”

“But I was. I was trying
to get caught up on some things. I locked the door and didn’t answer the phone.
I received a couple of calls and someone knocked on the door, but I didn’t
answer either.”

I let him go. I’d check
with Sam to see if his witness checked the door to see if it was locked. Our
questioning was over. No one had an alibi that satisfied me, but no one
incriminated himself or herself.

+++

On the way to my place,
Lou and I devised a plan. Because some of the cards were on pages where two
chapters were listed, first we’d look at those that were on a page with only
one chapter. We knew which word those letters went in.

I got a clean sheet of
paper and wrote down only those letters.

E A M C

S K C T P J

R

L

I studied the letters
and immediately formed an opinion. Evidently the extra hour of sleep did me no
good. Only the first word remained the same. All of the letters of the first
time remained intact. We were down to three possibilities. Either the first
word was “mace,” or “came,” or it contained one or more of the three “O’s” or
some combination of the missing four letters, none of which we could possibly
identify.

We wanted to get all of
our stupid ideas out of the way as soon as possible, so we wrote down all the
letters of the alphabet to see how many of them were the first letter of any
book of the Bible. Well, at least it was quick. That’s more than can be said
for any other idea we had. After only a few minutes, we were able to eliminate
B, F, Q, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z. Because so many words include the letters Q, V,
X, Y, and Z, we were able to eliminate one-quarter of one percent of all the
words of the English language. If we continued to make breakthroughs such as
this, this puzzle could have been solved within a couple of generations, or
long after the murderer has died by other means. The more I thought of this,
the more I wondered why the Colonel didn’t write us a note that said “The
Murderer is So-And-So.” If the murderer didn’t find the note, Lou and I
could’ve solved this case before dinner the first night. If the murderer did
find the note, at least Lou and I wouldn’t have been sitting there trying to
solve some stupid cryptogram.

Deep down Lou and I
believed we’d solve the puzzle, and when we did, we’d say, “Why in the world
didn’t we think of that earlier?”

In the meantime, my
brain had melted. Lou knew I’d lost it when he saw me go to the kitchen, pick
up a knife, and bring it to the table where I proceeded to cut up an entire
Hershey Almond bar until I had sixteen squares. Why sixteen? Who knows? I
surely didn’t. It was an awful sight. There were slivers of chocolate
everywhere. For the first time in my life, I’d cut almonds in half. Lou
remained silent as I took my index finger and moved the squares around until I
had four lines of chocolate squares, four lines of blank chocolate that offered
me almost as much information as the letters on the paper in front of me.

Lou figured that it’s
easier to join them than lick them, so he tore open a package of M&Ms and
poured them on my dining room table. He too made four lines, only his lines
were color coded.

Jealous that he was able
to color code his experiment, I moved on to something he couldn’t do as easily
as I. I stacked my squares. Lou tried to stack his too, but they kept falling
off. Frustrated, Lou took one of his M&Ms and placed it on his thumb the
way he would a marble, took aim, and sent my chocolate squares flying across
the table. Oh, I still had a stack, but my stack was reduced to four squares. I
was amazed that Lou could generate enough power to knock over a chocolate
square that was heavier than the M&M projectile, but then I was never much
good in science class.

We sat there and stared
at the mess, then turned and looked at each other. We laughed until we cried.
True, it wasn’t very mature, and certainly not dignified, but you have to
admit, it’s much better than taking out a gun and blasting the candy into
submission. If we ever do that, I think someone will find a place for us, and
it will not be the Blue Moon, either.

It seems like there
comes a time in every case when Lou and I crack and begin to act crazy. Well,
crazier than usual. But each time we do, it releases our frustrations, and it
calms us.

I’d like to say that
this fit of madness settled us enough that we were able to solve the puzzle in
a matter of minutes. I’d like to say so, but it didn’t. Instead, the two of us
sat there silently thinking of new ways to approach the puzzle.

+++

“So, Lou, what do we
know so far?”

“We know that visitation
will begin before long, and we’d better start getting ready if we don’t want to
be late.”

Neither of us liked
wearing a coat and tie, so we decided we’d go comfy for visitation and dress up
for the funeral. If someone said something about us not dressing up for the
visitation, we’d tell them we were on surveillance and that we have designated
clothing for that. None of them would have known the difference. Lou had
brought a change of clothes, just in case he spotted the ones he was wearing
with something from the breakfast or lunch menu. It was a wise decision,
although he did make it through breakfast unscathed.

+++

Neither of us were
prepared to see our mentor in a casket. Even at seventy-five, the Colonel
seemed so alive, and in the casket, he looked like someone else. Oh, he still
looked like the Colonel, but it didn’t seem right.

I think it helped put
Martha at ease as she came up beside us and realized that even cops sometimes
shed tears.

“It was nice of you boys
to come.”

The words, “We wouldn’t
have missed it for anything,” didn’t seem appropriate, so I merely nodded.

      Lou and I planned to stay for the entire
time of visitation. We planned to blend in, and see what we could learn.
Besides, I couldn’t see one of us hiding behind a potted plant, while the other
one hunkered down, hidden by a spray of flowers. We wanted to observe everyone,
make a note of who came and who didn’t, and see if anyone looked guilty. We
didn’t expect to solve the murder  that  night,  and  we got what we expected.
I hoped that four trips to the restroom each didn’t seem superfluous. I didn’t
know about Lou, but I actually had to go once. Each time I “went,” I checked
the mirror before I returned, just to make sure there were no traces of
chocolate on or around my mouth.

+++

After visitation Lou and
I headed to eat. On the way to Lou’s apartment, he informed me that because he
had eaten more than he had been used to eating lately, that he would Wii before
he went to bed. Also, he let me know that someone had stolen a bear trap that
someone had left outside of his window, but that he doubted if they would fare
as well if they tried to dig up the mine field that had been planted there. I
knew at least one person who would stay out of the mine field, and I felt sorry
for the next of kin of the next person to mow Lou’s lawn. After I dropped off
Lou, I wondered how powerful my binoculars were. I quickly dismissed that
thought as I envisioned Officer Davis tapping me on the shoulder, wondering
what I was doing in the bushes next door to Lou’s apartment building.

I woke up Thursday
morning wanting to put closure to the whole business, but I knew that closure
wouldn’t come until Lou and I solved the case. I’d told Sam about the funeral
and promised him I would call when I got in, or Friday morning.

Our schedule would in no
way resemble our normal routine. I allowed myself enough time to tie and retie
whatever tie I could rummage through the closet and find. I had many ties to
choose from, and some of them had probably been out of style long enough that
they were back in style. With winter giving way to spring, so to speak, I
selected a tan suit that I had last worn four years ago. It had been dry
cleaned and was suffocating in a garment bag. I tried on the pants, then the
coat. Both fit, so I wouldn’t have to go to Plan B. While my size is greater
than the size of most men, my weight seldom fluctuates. I chalk it up to eating
the right foods. My doctor claims it is due to good metabolism.

My suit was a solid
color. So was my shirt. So, I chose a tie with a pattern in it. I refrained
from selecting one that looked like I had spent time in finger painting class,
but I wanted something that added a little color to my ensemble. While ensemble
sounds like something a runway model might wear, every now and then I choose
words unbefitting my lifestyle, and most words of three syllables or more are
unbefitting my lifestyle.

I had two choices when
it came to my neck wear. I could see if I still remembered how to tie a tie, or
I could check with my next-door neighbor to see if she knew how to tie one. I
wish all my choices were so easy. I pictured myself lying on Heloise Humphert’s
couch with her straddling me, her hot breath nauseating me, while she suggested
that she could better tie my tie if she unbuttoned my shirt first. It had been
years since I had had a nightmare so ghastly.

I ripped the tie from
the tie rack and wrapped it around my neck. Five minutes into the proceedings,
I wished I’d chosen a pre-tied tie, but I persisted until I’d formed something
that resembled a tie. I’ve never owned a turtleneck shirt. I consider them
almost as effeminate as those short socks some men wear these days, the ones
that don’t even cover their ankles. A day and a half later, I emerged from the
bathroom, not quite ready for GQ, but with a tie tied in a manly sort of way.

+++

I had parked in the back
the night before, hoping to make an undetected getaway on the morning of the
funeral. On more than one morning in the past few days, I had stepped out to
one of the more joyous sounds of God’s creation, a robin’s call. Nothing
announced the coming of spring quite like a robin, and the robins had been back
for at least a month.

On the morning of the
funeral, however, all the robins were in hiding, keeping out of the way of a
spring downpour. I reached back into the kitchen and grabbed an umbrella. I
poked it out into the rain and hit the mechanism that made it useful. Once
accomplished, I strutted to Lightning like I was somebody.

I was pleased with my
look until I pulled up in front of Lou’s building. He must’ve ventured over to
Thelma Lou’s. No man who hasn’t worn a tie in years can remember how to tie one
so well. No longer was I so proud of my manly look, but I wasn’t about to let
another man put his hands around my neck. I took some comfort in the fact that
Lou had to keep pulling up his pants as he walked. I needed to get him back to
where his pants fit him.

Lou sat down in the car,
looking glum. I thought it was because of the Colonel.

“I know how you feel,
Lou.”

“I don’t think you do,
Cy. See, after all that feasting we did yesterday, I gained two tenths of a
pound. And I even Wiied when I got home last night. For thirty minutes.”

The “praise the Lord” I
uttered about Lou’s good news didn’t seem to pacify him. I tried to convince
him that, more than likely, it was those last two bites of vegetables that did
it. I don’t think he bought my story. While I was disappointed that he’d gained
only two-tenths of a pound, it was a start. Maybe Lou was on the road to
recovery. At the same time, I had to convince Lou that two-tenths of a pound
wasn’t much. I didn’t want him to think he needed to fast for two days, or
worse yet, eat plain yogurt.

+++

Neither Lou nor I wanted
Rosie to see us dressed like we were. She might have gotten ideas about
changing the Blue Moon’s dress code, and then where would we be. Besides, we
were pressed for time. Lightning zipped into the drive-thru lane at a local
fast food restaurant. I ordered two steak and egg biscuits with two orders of
hash rounds to keep them company, and a Large Diet Pepsi to wash all of it
down. Lou followed suit, only he ordered one measly pork chop biscuit and no
hash rounds. Whatever disease he had, he hadn’t gotten over it.

Fifteen minutes later,
we arrived at the church with no breakfast staining our clothes, only a few
crumbs to brush away. A man motioned for us to stop and asked if we were family,
and if we would be going to the cemetery. I answered  “yes” to both. After all,
the Colonel’s boys had to be family.

The rain stopped just
before we arrived at the church, but I reached back into the car and grabbed my
umbrella just in case it began again. I was so nervous about doing the right
thing that I failed to see someone step from behind an adjacent car. In a
matter of seconds, the resident paparazzi, otherwise known as our good friend
Lt. George Michaelson, had snapped our picture.

“Well, what do we have
here? You look like a couple of guys I know. Do you by any chance know Cy
Dekker and Lou Murdock?”

“Never heard of them,” I
replied.

“Well, I must say you’re
better off. Say Cy, stand still a minute. I need to fix your tie.”

“I fixed it before I
came.”

“From the looks of it,”
Lou interjected, “I think his next-door neighbor messed it up when she kissed
him goodbye.”

I was so flustered that
George had straightened my tie before I realized it.

“In all seriousness,
guys, I know how hard this must be for the two of you. I wanted to be here for
you.”

George’s words didn’t
cause me to tear up or grab him and hug him, but I felt like doing both.

We entered the front of
the church and made our way down the aisle. George was in the lead. I motioned
for him to go as close to the front as possible, then move to the far side. I
wanted to observe the other mourners, see who came, and how they reacted.

I don’t remember much of
what the pastor shared that day, because each time he said something that
reminded me of the Colonel, my mind wandered back to days gone by and times Lou
and I spent with him. Before I knew it, Lou punched me that it was time to go.
We got up, filed past the casket, and out of the church. George agreed to drive
to the cemetery, but since Lightning was already in line to do so, we asked
George to go with us. I wish I had a picture of George’s six foot three inch
frame as he sat in the back of my VW.

It was fitting that the
sun came out just as the pastor said his final words at the cemetery. Lou and I
approached Martha and her granddaughters as she exited the tent at the
gravesite, and she invited us over to the house. She said several church
members, friends, and neighbors had brought enough food to feed even Lou and
me, so we accepted. We dropped George off at the church, because he had to get
back to work, and headed to the home we’ll always think of as the Colonel’s.

Since Thursday was Earl
and Myra Hoskins day to work at the Colonel’s, both were there and had agreed
to serve. They were still getting things set up when Lou and I arrived, so the
two of us stepped out back and relived more memories of the three of us and our
tree house. I felt like setting the pulley in motion and hoisting myself to the
top to see if the Colonel awaited us. I still hadn’t gotten used to the fact
that the Colonel continued to live only in our memories. One day, Lou and I
will catch up with him, but the day of his funeral wasn’t the day.

As Lou and I stared at
our childhood sanctuary, I heard a noise behind me. It was Jennifer.

“Gram told me that
Gramps built that for you. I bet you had some happy times up there. Did he ever
go up with you?”

“Sometimes, but his
happiness was knowing that Lou and I enjoyed it. We spent many a time up there.
Sometimes in the rain, if there was no strong winds or lightning, and at least
once a year we spent the night up there. And anytime something was bothering us
and we wanted to get away, we knew we had somewhere to go.”

“You mean, like now.”

“Yes, like now,
Jennifer.”

The young woman stepped
between Lou and me and put her arms around us.

“Gramps was so proud of
both of you. Find his killer.”

“I promise you we’ll do
that much.”

After a few moments of
silence, the three of us went in to join the others.

Martha wasn’t kidding
about the food. Not only was there enough for Lou and me, there was enough for
the others, too. The Colonel’s friend Joe was there with his wife, as were a
few others who were close to the Colonel. Were any of them responsible for his
death? We promised to find out, but not that day.