Eighteen

Zoe maneuvered her pickup around three police cruisers parked in front of Golden Oaks. A fourth car, a dark sedan with no fancy trim and no markings, had to be Wayne’s.

Inside, an officer stood near the door. A quartet of residents in the Bistro appeared unaware of a police presence. Several others gathered in the sitting area, keeping an eye on the cop or gazing out the window at the vehicles.

Zoe identified herself to the sentry as acting county coroner. He took in her high heels and her dress, making no effort to hide his skepticism. She wished she could give him a whiff of the morning’s autopsy aroma that still clung inside her nostrils. “If you don’t believe me, call Detective Wayne Baronick.”

Apparently, invoking the lead detective’s name was enough. The officer directed her to the rear of the building, past the elevator and the stairs. “Down the hallway to the left.”

She located Wayne, Connie Smith, and a City of Brunswick officer near a door at the end of the hallway. The detective looked up and whistled when she approached. Her cheeks warmed, and she covered with a snarky retort. “Don’t be a sexist pig, Baronick.”

He shrugged. “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…”

The facility director looked from Zoe to Wayne, uncertainty in her eyes.

“Don’t mind us,” Zoe said. To Wayne she asked, “What’s going on? You said there was a break in the case.”

“Ms. Smith reported she’d received an anonymous phone call strongly suggesting she check Daryl Oliverio’s locker. I obtained a warrant.” He thumbed toward the open door. “They just broke the lock and started searching.”

Zoe gazed past Wayne and Connie. Two officers were digging through a locker. Another cop stood next to an anxious Daryl Oliverio.

One of the officers looked their way. “Detective Baronick. You’re gonna want to see this.”

Zoe followed Wayne inside. The officer who’d beckoned held up a jacket very similar to the one their suspect on the security footage had been wearing. And a Pirates baseball cap.

Oliverio’s face flushed. “That’s not mine.”

Wayne took the jacket and held it up by the shoulders, facing Oliverio. “Looks about the right size to me.”

“I’m tellin’ you, man. That ain’t mine.”

Wayne handed it back to the officer, who stuffed both items in a brown paper evidence bag. “Do you mind coming down to the station with us to answer some questions?”

“Yeah, I mind. I’m workin’.”

Connie joined them in the locker room. “No, you aren’t. Effective immediately, you’re on leave.”

“But I need this job. And that ain’t my stuff. Someone’s framing me.”

“I hope so, Daryl.” She shook her head and walked away.

Wayne nodded to the county officer. “Take him in. I’ll question him as soon as we’re done here.”

Zoe watched them go, the image of Daryl Oliverio’s shocked expression when they’d pulled out that jacket and cap stuck in her mind. The other officers continued to dig through the locker, bagging its contents.

Wayne ambled to her side. “I bet you’re eager to tell Pete we’ve arrested Kinney’s killer and he can quit worrying about his father.”

“You’re convinced you have the right man?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

Wayne crossed his arms. “Why not?”

“He looked more surprised than anyone when you pulled that jacket out of his locker.”

“He’s a good actor.”

“I guess.”

“You’ve seen him get confrontational with the victim. You were with me the day in the Bistro when he blew up and stormed out.” Wayne reached over and slapped her on the shoulder. “Even old man Adams pronounced him guilty.”

“Yes, and Harry is such a reliable resource.” She watched the officers work for another few moments. “You don’t need me here, do you?”

“No. I just thought you’d want to be present when we tied up this case.”

Zoe shot him a look. “You be sure to call me when you do that.” She pivoted on the balls of her high-heeled feet and sauntered away.

“I did,” he shouted after her.

Her shoes were beginning to take a toll, so she took the elevator rather than the stairs to the second floor. Halfway down the hall to Harry’s room, she found him deep in conversation with a man wearing dark glasses and carrying a slim white cane.

“Hello, Harry,” she said as she approached.

He looked toward her. The other man didn’t. Harry smiled. “Hello, Sunshine.”

She kissed him on his cheek. “I wanted to let you know Pete will be in tomorrow to visit.”

Harry’s face lit up. “You know my boy?”

“I do. Quite well, actually.”

He made a point of checking her out and grinning. “He’s a lucky man.”

The old flirt.

Harry grew serious. “I’m glad he’ll be in tomorrow.” He tipped his head toward the blind gentleman. “Arnie has some information Pete needs to hear.”

“Ernie,” the man said. “And I really don’t want to get involved.”

“My boy’s a good cop. I told you, he’s working on this case. You’re a witness.”

A blind man as a witness? “What kind of information?” Zoe asked.

The man squirmed. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

Harry huffed. “Do you want a killer to go free?”

“I prefer to mind my own business. Keeps me out of hot water.”

Harry turned to Zoe, his jaw clenched. “Will you tell Pete that Arnie knows who killed that other guy? What was his name?”

“Ernie,” the man corrected.

“No, that wasn’t it.”

“John Kinney?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “Him.”

“But I don’t know. I told you that. I just overheard John and someone else arguing.”

Zoe blinked. “What exactly did you overhear?”

Ernie shook his head adamantly. “I don’t want to start rumors. If I must, I’ll talk to Harry’s son. But nobody else. Now please. Just leave me alone.” He extended his cane, whacking Zoe in the shin.

She bit back a yelp and stepped out of the man’s way.

Harry reached out to touch her arm. “Are you okay?”

Zoe smiled to reassure him. “Bruised but not broken.” She watched the blind witness finger a door before opening it and vanishing inside the room. She should go downstairs and get Wayne. But she’d seen the detective in action. If he steamrolled over the old man, they’d never get any answers. He’d already said he’d speak to Pete.

A young woman in a Golden Oaks polo shirt appeared at the end of the hall and paused at one of the doors. She smiled in their direction. “It’s about time for supper, Harry. You’d better start down to the dining room.”

He waved at her. “Thank you.” Once the woman entered the room, Harry grinned sheepishly. “Do you happen to know how to get to the dining room? I’ve managed to get myself a little bit lost.”

“I do.” She reached a hand to him.

He one-upped her with his own arm. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and they strolled toward the elevator. “You will make sure Pete comes tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

Harry hugged his arm and her hand closer to his side. “And you’ll come with him?”

She wasn’t about to miss hearing what this new witness had to say. “Count on it.”

  

Pete managed a couple hours of slumber Saturday night after Nate Williamson, his regular weekend officer, took over the shift at four a.m. Any hopes he’d had of sleeping in were quashed when Zoe shook him awake at eight with talk of a new “witness.”

She called Jason from the passenger seat on the drive to Brunswick. “Pete’ll be there to help with the barn roof as soon as we’re done at Golden Oaks.” After she ended the call, she picked up Pete’s phone from the console. “I’m adding Jason’s number to your contacts in case you need to call him about running late or something.” She hiked an eyebrow at Pete. “Do not be late.”

Pete sighed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They tracked down Harry in his room, tying his sneakers. He looked up when they entered, and a smile lit his face. “Well, hello. What a nice surprise.” With one last tug on the laces, he stood to accept Zoe’s hug and Pete’s handshake. “What brings you here?”

Zoe hooked an arm through Harry’s. “You told me to bring Pete to talk to Ernie.”

“I did?” Harry’s eyes shifted, searching his failing memory. He either found what he was looking for or faked it. “Of course, I did.”

Pete suspected the latter. “Do you want to take us to see him, Pop?”

That vacant look again. “I’m not sure where he lives.”

“I know,” Zoe said.

“Wonderful. Lead on, young lady.”

Pete handed Harry his cane and fell in behind the two of them.

They’d almost reached the elevator when Zoe stopped at a room. “This is it.” She pointed at a small plate next to the closed door. A plate none of the other rooms had. Braille. She rapped lightly.

After a moment, there were some scuffing noises from inside. A click. And the door swung open revealing a man Pete guessed was in his late eighties, who wasn’t wearing the tell-tale dark glasses of the vision impaired but was clutching a skinny white cane. “Yes?”

“Hey, Arnie.” Harry stepped forward to put a hand on the man’s arm. “It’s me. Harry Adams. I brought my son the cop to talk to you.”

“It’s Ernie.” The old man had the appearance of someone who’s developed a hard shell to survive in a world not designed for him. From the tone of his voice, he’d been tolerating and correcting Harry’s misuse of his name for a long time. “And I’d really rather forget the whole thing. I’m sorry you made the trip for nothing.”

Pete glanced at Zoe. She’d warned him about the man’s hesitance to cause trouble and made an I-told-you-so face.

“Oh, come on,” Harry said. “You might have the information they need to crack this case wide open.”

“We’ve already arrested a suspect,” Zoe told Ernie.

“Good. You don’t need me after all.”

“On the contrary. You might be able to confirm what we already think happened, or you might help clear an innocent man of homicide charges.” She spoke quietly, a note of pleading in her voice.

Ernie’s stony expression softened. Zoe had a way with these old folks. “Well…”

“May we come in?” Pete asked.

The old man considered it a moment longer then stepped aside.

The room was filled with genuine antiques unlike the reproduced items that decorated the rest of the facility. Ernie crossed to a wood-and-leather easy chair with practiced ease. His fingers grazed the wide, flat armrests before he lowered into it. Pete pulled a battered footstool directly in front of the old man and sat on it.

Harry remained with Zoe just inside the door. “Tell Pete what you told me.”

Ernie folded his cane and tucked it next to his thigh. “It was probably nothing. I heard John call out to someone. You know. ‘Hey. You.’ That sort of thing. It sounded like he was coming toward me and I thought he was talking to me. But I heard footsteps and felt someone pass me. That was who John was hollering at. I got the feeling the person didn’t want to be bothered because John said it two or three times.”

Ernie fell silent. Pete waited and after a minute considered asking, “is that it?”

Harry shuffled toward them. “Don’t stop there. Tell him the rest.”

The blind man fingered his cane. “John started saying, ‘I know you. I know you. How do I know you?’ He was hounding the guy, you know?”

“Yeah.” Pete could picture the stubborn, gruff retired officer browbeating someone, especially if that someone was being evasive. “Did you hear what the other person replied?”

“Not at first. I think he was pretending he didn’t hear John. But John must have caught up to him. When he did speak, I couldn’t make out most of what he said.”

“Were you too far away?” Pete asked.

“No. Thankfully, I have very good hearing. Compensates for my eyes.” He tapped his temple. “I think he was just mumbling. Seemed like he didn’t want to talk to John. Or maybe he didn’t want to talk to anyone.”

“You said you didn’t hear him ‘at first.’ What about later?”

“When John didn’t let up, the other man raised his voice and said, ‘Back off, old man.’ Or something to that effect.”

“Did he? Back off, I mean.”

“As I recall, John said, ‘Now I remember how I know you.’ But all I heard after that was footsteps, so I assume the other man left.”

“Where did all this happen?”

“Downstairs near the front door. I had been playing the piano and was on my way to the elevator. I believe John was coming from the dining room. Or maybe the Bistro.”

A memory whispered in Pete’s ear, stirring a chill at the base of his brain. He looked over at Zoe who was chewing her lip. “When was this?” he asked the piano-playing blind man.

“Almost a week ago. Monday morning.”

Zoe’s baby blues widened.

Pete leaned closer to Ernie. “Did you happen to recognize the other man’s voice?”

“No. Never heard it before.”

“Are you sure?” Zoe asked.

“Very.” He tapped his temple again. “I’ve learned to compensate for my blindness. As I mentioned, I have excellent hearing. I play the piano by ear. You hum the song, and I can play it. And I’m better at remembering voices than most people are at remembering faces.”

“Would you recognize it if you heard it again?”

“Absolutely.”

“Excuse me,” Zoe said. “Ernie, do you know Daryl Oliverio?”

“Gladys’ grandson? Yes.”

“Could he have been the man you overheard?”

“No. Definitely not.”

Pete thanked him for his time, replaced the footstool where he’d found it, and escorted Harry and Zoe out of the room.

“Did that help you with your case?” Harry asked.

“Yep, it did, Pop.”

They walked with Harry downstairs to the dining room where breakfast was being served. After saying their goodbyes, they stepped out into the April sunshine and Pete caught her arm. “Ernie was playing the piano when we were having coffee with Kinney.”

“I remember. The confrontation between John Kinney and Ernie’s mystery man must’ve happened right after we left.”

“Kinney recognized him. If Ernie never forgets a voice, Kinney’s the one who never forgot a face. If he was having trouble putting a name to this one, it was someone he hadn’t seen in while.”

Zoe’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Or someone who disguised their appearance.”

“Or that. One thing’s for sure. Kinney was like a dog with a bone. If he thought he knew this person, he wouldn’t let go until he figured out who the guy was.”

Zoe didn’t respond. Pete suspected she was thinking the same thing he was. Kinney’s dogged determination and photographic memory for faces may have been the motive for his murder.