To my surprise and delight, Roy Peters was happy to hear from me. He was retired from his job with the local telephone company, which had since merged with a larger corporation that also provided TV and Wi-Fi services for our growing number of electronic gadgets that were quickly becoming essentials.
“Hi there, Carrie. Looking for some help solving another murder?”
I laughed. “Roy, you know me too well. I don’t know if you heard that a woman was murdered out at the Baxter Garden Apartments.”
“Heard it on the news. Sad business. Can’t see how I can help you, though.”
“It turns out that the woman grew up here in Clover Ridge. Her name was Daphne Harper. Her father was Chet Harper.”
“I remember him. A nasty drunk. He worked for the phone company until he got fired. Got into more brawls than you have fingers and toes. Finally, someone had had enough and knifed him.”
“Did you know anyone he fought with?”
“Let me think. This is going back years. Some of the guys he drank with and fought with are gone—dead or moved away. Why are you so interested in Chet?”
“I’m wondering if Daphne’s death is connected to her father’s. I got to know her a bit, and though she didn’t say so, I have the feeling she came back to Clover Ridge partly because of her father’s murder.”
“Hmmm. Well, there was Les. Lester Brown, for one. He was a foreman, and Chet often worked under him. Still, they were pretty good buddies until Chet took it into his head that Les had a soft spot for his wife, Pattie.”
I was getting somewhere! “What was Pattie like?”
“Pretty. Soft-spoken. Not strong enough to cope with the likes of Chet. She had to work two jobs to pay their rent. I also think she took a second job to put distance between herself and his fists.”
“Do you think it’s true—that she and this Lester were having an affair?”
Roy scoffed. “Who knows? Chet claimed she was hardly ever home and he once saw her getting into someone’s car late at night.”
“But why Lester Brown?”
“I suppose because he was a good-looking guy, divorced, and always flirting with every woman he came across, married or not.”
“Does he still live and work in town?” I asked.
“If I remember correctly, he took a job at the Verizon store in the mall. I think he moved to an apartment a few years ago. Hey! Coincidentally, I think it was the Baxter Garden Apartments.”
“Quite a coincidence,” I agreed. “Thanks, Roy. You’ve been very helpful.”
He laughed. “Good thing there was no chance of anyone hearing us talk about this murder. Just don’t mention my name to Lester if you find him—in case he killed Chet’s daughter.”
“Of course not,” I agreed. “Good-bye, Roy. Be well.”
What to do? What to do? Should I call John and offer him this information, or find a way to talk to Lester Brown myself? Both, I decided.
The library phone extension rang. It was Angela. “Shall we go to the Cozy Corner Café or someplace else for lunch?”
“Are you up for some sleuthing?” I asked my best friend.
“Am I ever! Where are we going?”
“To find out what we can about a man named Lester Brown. Turns out he got into a fight with Daphne’s father shortly before he was murdered. Lester lives in the same apartment complex Daphne moved to. Could be she confronted him, accused him of murdering her father, and he killed her too.”
“I’m game,” Angela said, “but how do you plan to do this?”
“Trish’s dad said Lester’s working over at the mall. I thought we’d go to the Verizon store and, if we’re lucky, have a little chat.”
“I’m in,” Angela said, “but first let’s stop at the Cozy Corner Café for sandwiches and eat them on the way.”
“Good idea.”
I called John’s cell phone and told him what I’d read about Lester Brown in the old news article.
“Thanks, Carrie. Kind of you to share this information.”
Was that a note of sarcasm I detected? Had John already known about Lester Brown? “Oddly enough, one of our older patrons said he lives in the Baxter Garden Apartments where Daphne was murdered. Makes you wonder if they crossed paths and she accused him of having stabbed her father.”
“It’s possible, I suppose.”
“Anyway, I thought I should let you know.”
“Much appreciated. I prefer this to your going off questioning suspects on your own.”
The mall was a short drive out of town. It had been built a few years ago and was an attractive place to shop. I parked near the Verizon store and, as I feared, it was full of customers buying, updating, and learning about their cell phones during their lunch hour.
Angela let out a sigh of disappointment as we entered the store. “This was a waste of time. There’s no way we’ll get to talk to this Lester, let alone find out anything.”
“Don’t be so negative,” I said. I glanced around the large room, searching for a good-looking man in his sixties. Since most of the employees were younger, Lester Brown was easy to spot. “I bet that’s him—helping that young woman with the long brown hair,” I said to Angela. “I’m going to check out the demo cell phones near where they’re standing.”
I ambled over to the phones, pretending to be engrossed in studying the difference between two choices. From their conversation, I gathered that Lester had successfully solved the young woman’s problem with her phone’s camera. He was about to call out for the next person waiting for tech support when I tapped his arm.
“I don’t mean to jump the line,” I said in my most polite voice, “but does this phone—or any of these phones—have an alarm? If someone should break in and attack you …”
“I don’t think any of them do,” Lester said. “But if you’re looking for an alarm, they sell them on Amazon.”
I pressed my hand to my chest. “Of course! How silly of me! I’m just so upset. I just heard about that woman being murdered. Strangled in her own apartment.” I shuddered. “It’s so close to where I live.”
He pursed his lips. “I just heard. Bad business, that. But no need to panic. Just don’t open your door to strangers.”
“I can’t help but worry since this happened at the Baxter Garden Apartments. I live only a few blocks away. Alone. Except for my bird.”
“I see.” Lester’s dark-brown eyes studied me—at first with curiosity and then with amusement. And suddenly he was laughing.
“Hey, aren’t you that librarian—the one with the library cat who’s always getting involved in crime investigations?”
I felt my face growing warm. “Maybe I am. Carrie Singleton. And you’re Lester Brown.”
He nodded. “I am. I suppose you’re here to find out what I know about the murder, since the woman was found a block from my apartment.”
“Her name was Daphne Marriott. You might have known her as Daphne Harper.”
Lester’s mouth fell open. “Chet and Pattie’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
“I had no idea—you said she was living at the Baxter Apartments.”
“Yes.”
He was gazing off into space. “Funny. I thought I saw her once—in the supermarket a week or two ago. She grew up to look exactly like her mother.”
Unless Lester had done a stint at the Actors Studio or the Yale School of Drama, his shocked expression struck me as genuine. It was time to learn what I could. “Did you have an affair with Daphne’s mother?”
Lester’s eyes lit up, and I caught a glimpse of the sexy, virile man he had been in his younger days. “I did not, as I told her husband repeatedly. Had to give him a licking before he’d believe me. Poor Pattie. She had a miserable life with that SOB.”
“Do you know who killed Chet Harper?”
“I have no idea. I felt sorry for their son, Billy. The cops pinned it on him, but I never thought he did it.” Lester sighed. “Why? Do you think Daphne’s murder has something to do with her father’s stabbing twenty years ago?”
I sighed. “I wish I knew.”