“You were almost nice to Al back there,” Herc told me as we grabbed coffees at a local coffee shop to caffeinate before moving ahead.
I sipped my Kona brew before replying. We didn’t come to this place very often because their high-end brew was more expensive than other places, including Dawson’s Deli. But it was close to the department, and we needed a quick shot of caffeine. “Al’s not so bad. At least when he’s not trying to ambush me or otherwise impugn my past work for the department. I get it. He’s intimidated by both my knowledge and skills and my relationship with you, so he strikes out in an attempt to cut me down to size. Today he was actually helpful, so I responded in kind.”
“He was helpful because this is technically still his case. He was first on the scene when the body was reported. I didn’t get there for another half hour.”
“That doesn’t sound like you. Surely you didn’t sleep in?”
“Nah,” he said, waving away my comment. “Had a dental appointment that morning. Can you believe it? All these years without a cavity and now I lose a filling.”
“Ugh. Not good. I hate that dead feeling in my mouth when they shoot me up to deaden the pain.”
“That’s still ahead,” Herc replied dismally. “Looks like I’ll have to get a crown at some later date.”
“Yet to be determined,” I said, guessing he’d put that day off as long as he could.
“I’m fine. No pain. I got a little worried when I bit down on the filling, but now that the doc checked me out, I can live with this a bit longer before I agree to a crown.”
No pain yet. What would he do when it suddenly hit in the middle of an investigation? He could be such a baby at times. “Maybe we shouldn’t be drinking hot coffee?”
“Hot stuff hasn’t bothered me yet. It’s the cold drinks I should avoid. I never know when the cold might trigger pain.”
“Good thing you don’t drink as many colas as I.”
“Water is my new beverage. Just not ice water.”
Our discussion of Herc’s dental problems waned. Time to get back to our investigation. “It’s getting late in the afternoon. Maybe we can catch most of the neighbors around the old Taylor House at home by now.”
“Good thought.” He pulled up the case notes on his tablet. “Apparently the first officers on the scene didn’t talk to them, so we start fresh.”
The old Taylor house was located on the east side of Marlin Terrace, so our first stop was at the bungalow to the south of it. A kid of about seventeen came to the door. “Yeah?”
Herc introduced us and asked if his parents were home.
“I live here alone with my mom. My dad now lives in Oregon. Mom won’t be home from work for another twenty minutes. You here about the murder next door?” Since he was a minor, we couldn’t question him without his mother’s permission.
“Yeah, we are,” Herc replied. “Tell your mom we’ll be back a little later.”
“You don’t want to know what I saw?” he called after we’d pivoted and were walking down the front sidewalk.
“We can’t question a minor without an adult present,” Herc told him.
The kid stood taller. “What makes you think I’m a minor?”
“That high school tee you’re wearing was our first clue,” I replied.
“What if I said I’m eighteen?”
What was this? Most people didn’t want to get involved. Did this kid have desires of being a hot witness?
“Are you?” I asked.
“I asked you first.”
So no, he was underage. I eyed Herc, and we turned to leave again.
“I saw someone over there that night,” the kid said.
We swiveled around again and raised our brows. No law said we couldn’t listen.
“It wasn’t a woman. That’s who was killed, right? No, this was a guy. An older guy about forty-five or fifty.”
Older? Thanks, kid.
“I think it was the guy who owned the house before. Robertson or something like that. It was seven thirty. I was in my backyard sneaking a smoke. Mom knows I do it but looks the other way as long as I don’t do it in the house. My dad smokes and Mom hates it, not that it was the reason they got a divorce. His secretary and now his wife took care of that.”
“Okay?” I answered. We were walking a tightrope here. If he was telling the truth and not just inventing a story to get himself noticed, what he saw could be very helpful. But we couldn’t ask any follow-up questions to make sure.
“Oh, right, stick to what I saw that night. It wasn’t like he was sneaking in. He came around to the back door, stuck something in the lock—I guess he’d kept a key—and went right in. He wasn’t there long. About ten minutes. Then he came out shaking his head and snuck away into the night. I bet that makes him a suspect?”
“How ’bout we come back a little later and nail down those details?” Herc asked, not bothering to add it would be when the kid’s mother was home.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Disappointment underlay his tone.
He actually seemed to deflate in front of us. Not only his shoulders dropped, but the air appeared to go out of his chest.
Herc and I left him there sulking. Better that than get sued by his mother for interviewing a minor without her permission. I wasn’t sure if she could make such a charge stand, but I didn’t want to find out.
While we were on the south side of the murder house, we tried the next door down. An almost-bald older guy with a thatch of white hair on the top of his head opened the door. Herc did the honors again. The guy—Barney Aiken he said his name was—nodded. “Heard about the murder but only when I ambled down the street to get the details from the EMTs. They wouldn’t tell me a thing. But another neighbor across the street had gotten the inside scoop from her police scanner.”
“Was that the first you knew anything was wrong?” I asked.
“You mean, did I see anything or anyone suspicious around the neighborhood the night before or early morning? No. Wish I could help. Never been a witness to a murder before. All I saw was when they wheeled the body out to the EMT vehicle, but it was already covered up in a black bag.” We thanked him and were about to move off when he called us back. “Wait. I did notice something. As I was walking away from getting the details, I noticed a fancy town car that had been parked three houses north of the Taylor house. That’s what we neighbors still call it. It turned in the middle of the street and headed away the opposite direction.”
“Did you recognize it?” Herc asked.
“Me? I don’t know anyone who’d be cruising around in a fancy car like that. I wouldn’t’ve mentioned it except its appearance was so unusual and it turned around. Not easy to negotiate a turn like that unless you’re a fancy driver. Like a chauffeur.”
Interesting observation. It could be nothing, but it could’ve been someone checking to make sure Lila Halpern was actually dead. Like her murderer.
Herc did the usual wrap-up, and we headed toward the other side of the Taylor house. A woman dressed in lightweight sweats in a wheelchair came to the door.
She gave her name as Cora Ramsay. “I wasn’t aware there was any trouble at the house until I saw the flashing red lights of the EMT vehicle parked next door, about nine forty-five, although I did see one of the workers arrive about fifteen minutes before that. I’m a writer, and I was seated at my desk by the front window. I see a lot of street action when my mind is wandering, trying to come up with the next sentence.”
“How did you know it was one of the workers?” I asked.
“I’ve seen her before, several times the days right before the murder. She usually carried a tool bag. Unusual to see a woman working one of these projects, but more power to her, except I’ve never seen her or any of the crew at the house at that time of day.”
Harper Wickersham. That bore out most of what the woman had said about coming back to finish her job, except one thing. Her arrival time. She claimed to have called 911 right after she walked in and found the body. According to Cora Ramsay, Wickersham arrived earlier. If that was true, what did she do in those intervening minutes?
“Did you notice anything unusual about her demeanor that night?” I asked. I wanted to know if Wickersham came with the purpose of killing Lila or if she really was there to finish her work.
“She checked her watch as she was coming in, if that’s what you mean?”
“Like she was worried about being late for something?”
She pursed her lips like she was trying to remember. “Possibly, but I don’t think so. It was like she couldn’t believe she was coming so late. But maybe I’m reading too much into an expression I saw for all of maybe two seconds?”
“Your interpretation of her mood could be helpful as we learn more about the case,” Herc told her.
“Did you see anyone else arrive or leave the house that night?” I asked, hoping she could verify seeing the same guy the kid claimed to have seen.
She shook her head. “No. I was watching TV in another room until a little before eight. There’s still enough light outside this time of year, so I thought I’d get a little more time in on my latest short story before I had to turn the lights on. I do okay with artificial light, but I prefer natural daylight, even late in the day.”
“Anything else you can remember?” Herc asked.
She gave the question several seconds’ thought. “There was something. I think. It happened so fast, it was more an impression rather than an actual observation. A little before eight. The light was almost gone. I thought I saw a shadow of something move quickly to the street. A minute or so later, I heard a car start up. It moved slowly down the street, no lights.”
More than likely, she’d witnessed the murderer escaping, although apparently she didn’t get enough of a look to say whether it was a man or a woman. But she did get a time, more or less.
This was turning into a very tight timeline within which possibly four people all showed up: Roberts, Lila, the murderer and Wickersham.
We’d gained a lot of information from our survey of the neighborhood. And we weren’t even done. It would be nice to find someone who’d seen all four entities go into the house so we could tie down the times.
Herc must’ve been thinking the same thing because he headed off immediately to the next house after saying his usual to Cora Ramsay.
Unfortunately, no one was home. We tried one more farther north. According to what we’d learned from Barney Aiken, this would’ve been the house the town car was parked in front of that took off so suddenly that night. The same car Cora Ramsay thought she heard start up around eight.
A woman in her thirties came to the door, two little tykes trailing behind her. “Stay behind Mommy, guys,” she told them before she even acknowledged us. “I’m not talking to reporters,” she told us before saying anything else.
Herc set her straight on that one, including the fact that it would be in her best interest to answer our questions.
“Fine. Come in and take a seat, if you can find one. The twins have dragged half their toybox out here today.”
The state of the living room took me back. I only had one toddler who liked to decorate the house with playthings and it still looked like this. “Don’t worry. I’m a mother too. Let me assure you that it does get better, to the point where they’re reminding you to pick up after yourself.”
She rolled her eyes. “You sound like my mom.”
Was that a good thing or a bad thing? I chose to believe the positive. I wondered if I’d ever get the chance to say as much to Val?
She introduced herself as Kelly Powell. “I take it you want to know if I’ve seen anyone suspicious around the neighborhood lately. My question to you is, do I look like someone who’s at her windows all day? Or even for fifteen seconds?”
“Got it,” I replied, figuring what this woman needed was not our grilling her in front of her kids, although they didn’t seem to be the least bit threatened by our presence. Both leaned over the arms of the couch, their eager little expressions delighted by the break in their day. No, Kelly Powell needed her own break. “Are you saying you didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary that day or that night?”
“Yes. I saw and heard nothing.”
“We did, Mommy,” the girl twin said.
All three of us switched our attention to her. “That’s okay, Gina,” her mom said. “These people aren’t playing pretend games like the three of us do sometimes.”
“But we’re not playing pretend,” the boy said.
Kelly Powell turned back to the two of us. “Please excuse them. They think this is a game.”
I wasn’t convinced. Herc glanced at me for direction. “Mrs. Powell, Kelly? Could we play pretend with them just for a bit?”
The mom gazed back at me skeptically. “I don’t want them to think this is how they should react to the police.”
“Understood. Let’s just give it a couple minutes and see what they say.”
“Okay,” she said. “But just for a couple minutes.” Back to the kids. “Gina, Georgie? Let’s go on with your game but just for a bit. These people have other work to do.”
She turned back to me, indicating I should start. “So, Gina and Georgie, why don’t you tell us what you found suspicious.”
The two towheads exchanged looks. Gina took the lead. “We saw a car. A big, long car we didn’t know. Not like the others who park on the street.”
“Yeah, we got them memo—”
“Memorized,” their mom said. “Really? You know which car belongs to Mr. Wiley across the street?”
Gina jumped right on that. “The little green one. It’s got a wrinkle on the door.”
“Wrinkle, huh?” Herc returned, playing along. “How big would you say?”
Georgie took that one by spreading his arms out to the side. “This big.”
“Ah. That’s a big one then. Do you know anyone else’s car?”
“The lady next door to Mr. Wiley,” Gina said. “Her car is red. Little too. And she drives it fast.”
Herc and I looked to their mother, who nodded, her eyes betraying her surprise.
“You’re doing real well,” I told the kids. “Why don’t you tell us more about the big, long car you saw?”
Once again our little witnesses exchanged glances before replying. “We saw two men in the car, we think,” Georgie told us.
“You think?” Herc asked. “What does that mean? You’re not sure?”
“Guys, you have to be sure about whatever you tell these people, okay?”
Gina nodded. “Right, it’s just that it was getting dark and you were calling for us to go to bed. We just got a quick look.”
“And the big guy in the suit ran fast down the street,” Georgie said.
“Do you remember what color the suit was?” I asked.
“Dark,” both kids said at once.
“Black?” Herc asked.
“Dunno,” Georgie said.
“Not black then,” he continued, not realizing that was the best we’d get from them on suit color.
“You said there were two men,” I said. “Tell us about the other one.”
“He didn’t go with the other man,” Gina said. “But he did get out of the car. He smoked. Mommy says that’s bad for us.”
“And he wore a hat, remember, Gina?” Georgie said.
“I thought you said it was getting dark. How could you see that?” their mom said, still sounding skeptical.
“We saw it when he got out of the car. The lights inside went on. He bumped his head and the hat fell off. He threw it on the seat and then got out to smoke,” Gina said.
Wow. That was a lot of words for a child that age. But these two seemed smarter than other kids. Their mother, though she appeared preoccupied and overwhelmed with the two of them, was doing something right.
It sounded like the guy who stayed behind was a chauffeur. Which meant we had a second sighting of the town car. Surely in a town the size of Shasta, it should be easy to track down a town car in use that night.