Evil Under the Moon (Moon Mystery Series Book 5) Page 2

  “Let’s go up there and start back till we find the spot,” Andrea said. “It’s so cold and windy today, I don’t think anyone will be playing golf.”

  As we walked back toward town, we soon came upon a large sycamore and nearby, the 15th hole. We searched under the tree and all around it, and then down the bank to the trail, without finding anything. “At least we know where it happened,” I said.

  “Or at least where her body was found.”

  “Do you think she was murdered somewhere else and left there?”

  “We don’t know yet. That’s something that’ll be helpful to find out.”

  I suddenly felt hopeless about the case. With no evidence against Chester Hubbard and no clues at the site, we weren’t getting off to a good start. Then I thought of something. “How about the phone that was in the evidence box? Do you think it was Lea’s phone?”

  “It might be, but if it had anything incriminating on it, the killer would have taken it and destroyed it. The battery’s dead, but I have a couple of old chargers at home that might work. I’ll take it with me tonight and see if I can charge it.”

  “There’s no indication as to whose phone it was or why it’s in the box,” I said. “Sloppy police work.” I was feeling righteous. “Also, what do you suppose happened to her purse? The deputy mentioned finding it and securing it in an evidence bag.”

  “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

  “Do you suppose they turned it over to her family?”

  “Not till the case was solved. Or at least they shouldn’t have. No telling, though, with Walter Stanley in charge, what happened to it.”

  “Why don’t we go by the jewelry store and see if Jack’s a member of the country club? It sounds like a lovely place to have lunch, and maybe we’d have a chance to snoop around.”

  Andrea smiled at that, since snooping is our favorite thing. “Let’s go now before we go back to the office. We can explain what we’re working on. We’ll need to talk to the employees of the restaurant who worked there when Lea was murdered, so if we go for lunch, that might give us a chance to arrange something.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “If it isn’t the two most exciting ladies in Baxter County,” Jack said when we entered the jewelry store. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Mostly staying home in Pine Summit,” Andrea said. “We’ve had so much snow and ice this year that we haven’t been to Martindale often. Now spring is here, or almost here, anyway, and we’re volunteering in Jordan’s office.”

  “I heard that you were, and I’ve been meaning to come over to the courthouse and see how much trouble I could get into. What are you doing now? I want to help.”

  “We’re just getting started,” I said. “It took Jordan a while to get organized and get a place set up for us. We’re in the basement, in a little room down the hallway to the left when you get to the bottom of the stairs.”

  “Jordan asked us to look at some old cases, starting with the murder of Lea Logan,” Andrea said.

  “I remember her—and I remember when she was killed,” Jack said.

  He remembers her, so he must be a member of the country club, I thought. I decided I’d ask instead of assuming. “Are you a member of the Martindale Country Club?”

  “Yes, and I frequently have lunch over there. Lea was one of the waitresses. Maybe you two would like to go to the Garden Room for lunch one of these days.”

  Not just one of these days, but soon. “We’d love it,” I said. “We need to interview any of the employees there who knew Lea.”

  “I know the chef, Tony Calabria. He’s been there for a few years—since before Lea died, for sure. He lives on my street. I know he’d be glad to talk to you. There’s been a lot of turnover in the restaurant. Several people who worked with Lea aren’t there anymore.”

  “What’s the general atmosphere of the club?” Andrea asked. “I wonder if there’s a clique composed of the ex-sheriff and his buddies that wields a lot of power and generally gives the impression of being in charge of the place.”

  “There’s definitely a clique, and the president of the club, Chester Hubbard, is part of it. There are plenty of other club members who aren’t members of the clique, though, and for the most part the rest of us ignore Stanley and his bunch.”

  My ears perked up at the mention of Chester Hubbard, but I resisted telling Jack what Cindy Atkins had told us about the auto dealer.

  Andrea frowns on gossip, so I was taken completely by surprise when she said, “A young woman named Cindy Atkins came in to see us earlier today. She accused Chester Hubbard of murdering Lea. She said he was practically a stalker and bothered Lea all the time. All this is confidential, or course, but if you’re going to help us, you need to know what we know. Jordan has you on the list of volunteers.”

  “I’m surprised—not that he would be hitting on Lea, but that Cindy would accuse him of murder. I think that’s a little far-fetched.”

  “I suppose you know Cindy, too,” I said.

  “Yes, she works there in the summers, just like Lea did. The restaurant gets busier in the summer, what with all the golf going on.”

  “Do you play?” Andrea asked.

  “Not much. There are many in the club who do, however. It’s really popular.”

  “When can you take us to the Garden Room for lunch?” Andrea asked. “We haven’t had much luck so far with this case. We need to start interviewing some people who knew Lea.”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “That would be good. What time works for you?”

  “Let’s go at one, when the biggest rush in the kitchen will be over—at least by the time we finish eating. That’ll give us a better opportunity to see Tony Calabria.”

  I was curious, remembering the bad-tempered chef on the PBS show, Chef, which I watched years ago. “What’s this Tony Calabria like?”

  “He’s a nice guy. A little dramatic at times, but okay. He’s been a good addition to our street.”

  Jack had lived in Martindale his entire life, so I hoped he could answer my next question. “Someone else we need to interview is Edmund Brady. Do you know him?”

  “No, I don’t. Who is he?”

  “He’s the deputy who investigated when the body was found. He’s not on Jordan’s list of employees now.”

  Jack thought for a moment. “I think I remember hearing of him—hearing that he moved away. I don’t know where he went.”

  “Is his family from here?” I asked.

  “No, he came here from somewhere else. Your friend the former sheriff could probably give you more information about him.”

  He was smiling when he said this, because he knew we weren’t on friendly terms with Walter Stanley. For that matter, Jack wasn’t either. He helped with our campaign to get Jordan elected.

  Andrea chuckled. “We’ll avoid interviewing Walter if possible. We’re just hoping to show off by solving the backlog of old cases that piled up while he was in office.”

  “That should show him up for what he is—or was,” Jack said. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  “I suppose you realize you may lose the sheriff’s business if you’re seen with us at the country club,” I said. “When Jordan was a deputy, she said she shopped for the sheriff and came in three times last year to pick out a birthday present for his wife.”

  Jack laughed. “I think he knows I won’t tell his wife about all these presents he’s buying. A jeweler must be discreet.”

  “I’m sure he knows about your involvement in our last case and in getting Jordan elected,” I said. “He’s bound to be upset with you.”

  “I’m not too worried, since I’m the only jewelry store in town. Besides, my policy has always been to do exactly what I want to do and let the chips fall where they may.”

  “I don’t suppose there’ll be any unexplained jewelry showing up in this case, but I’m sure we can think of something you can do to help us,”
I said.

  “We’ll definitely think of something,” Andrea said. “In the meantime, let’s go home so I can charge the phone we found and see if we can find what’s on it.”

  “You found a phone?” Jack asked.

  Andrea stopped on her way to the door. “It was in the evidence box for Lea’s murder, with no clue as to whose phone it was or why it was in there. I suppose it was hers, but we’ll see.”

  “Charge it here, if you want to. Then we can look in my old Martindale directory for any local people if you need addresses.”

  “I doubt your charger would work,” Andrea said. “The phone’s at least five years old. I have some chargers that might do the job. If we can’t find numbers online, we’ll bring them here and check your directory.”

  We left and headed for Andrea’s car. She always drives when we go places together, since her Honda Accord is newer and gets better mileage than my old Buick. She whizzes around the curves on our West Virginia roads and scares me half to death at times, but I still prefer to let her drive.

  “I’m looking forward to the Garden Room,” I said as we left town. “It sounds like a lovely place. It was nice of Jack to invite us.”

  “It certainly was, and I’m looking forward to interviewing the chef and a few others, too.”

  “Jack’s a most attractive man,” I said.

  “What, are you interested in him?”

  I huffed. “Of course not! I’m thinking of you!” I’m a widow, married to the love of my life for forty years till he had a heart attack. I’m perfectly satisfied with my memories. Andrea never married, and I’m often concerned that she’s lonely. “I think Jack wants to be involved in this case, and I also think he’s interested in you.”

  Andrea gave me that silent sideways look that says she’d prefer I didn’t meddle in her affairs. End of discussion, if you could call it a discussion. Back to the phone. “If you can find a charger that’ll work, how long will it take before we can get some information from it?” I asked.

  “If it starts charging, I’ll be able to check its secrets right away. If not, well, do you remember Chad Harris?”

  “Vaguely. What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “He’s the most technically gifted person I’ve ever known. He was in my math classes all through high school, and he was a whiz at math, too. He’s at WVU now, but I think he comes home on weekends. Maybe he could help us if I can’t get to the info on the phone.”

  “Do you think he’d be willing to help?”

  “I think he’d like the challenge. Besides, he owes me. I spent many extra hours with him, because he was interested in more complex concepts of math than were taught in the courses.”

  The idea of complex concepts of math was enough to make me shudder, but Andrea, retired math teacher, thinks along those lines. I suspect that’s why she’s so good at solving crimes. I’m just along for the ride—a sounding board, a sidekick, a Watson. “He sounds like someone good to know, especially if we had Lea’s computer. She’s bound to have had a computer. Where do you suppose that is?”

  “My guess is that it was returned to her family. She was a student, so she had a computer. We’ll visit her mother soon. We have to find the computer.”

  We were entering Pine Summit by this time, and I told Andrea I’d go to her house with her. I wanted to see what she could do with the phone. I could walk home afterward—I live just two houses down Summit Drive from Andrea. She pulled into the garage, and while in there, she took a box down from a shelf. “This contains every phone charger I’ve ever had. I hope one works.”

  Inside, she wet a paper towel and wiped the dust from the box and then sorted through the tangle of wires and plugs until she finally pulled one out. “This looks about right.” She took the phone from her purse and plugged the charger into it. “It’s charging!”

  “I’m getting hungry. I’ll make us a sandwich while we’re waiting.” I started for the kitchen.

  “Okay, go ahead. We probably don’t need to wait, but we’ll have some lunch first. There’s lemonade in the fridge.”

  I found some lunchmeat and cheese and topped it with lettuce and tomato on whole wheat bread. Andrea came in and poured lemonade. “I have some cookies in the pantry, if you want some.”

  I always want some, so I grabbed a package of oatmeal-raisin cookies from the shelf and put them on the table. We ate quickly, eager to get back to the phone. I’d let Andrea handle the exploration, since she’s much better at understanding gadgets than I am. She sat down beside the computer and immediately started pushing buttons on the phone. “I’ll make a list of the numbers she’s called and add what I can find online for the number.”

  “How do you look up a number on the computer?”

  “Google it,” she said, while apparently doing just that. “She called a number on July 18 at ten-seventeen p.m. That would have been shortly after she left work. I can’t find anything on the number. It was probably for a burner phone.”

  “A what?”

  “A burner phone. They can be bought, along with minutes. Crooks get them for cash so they’re not traceable, and they discard them when the minutes run out. It’s a way of staying off the radar while being able to use a phone.”

  “Interesting. Anyone could have had one of those, I suppose—even someone like us who had a regular phone, too,” I said.

  Andrea continued clicking away. “She called police headquarters a couple of days before she died.”

  “Maybe we should check with the city police to see if they have a record of Lea.”

  “That’s a good suggestion. We’ll do that next time we’re in Martindale. I doubt the sheriff’s office was in touch with them. They didn’t have a good relationship with the city.”

  I smiled. It’s not often Andrea thinks of my suggestions as good. Maybe I’d become a decent detective one of these days. “We could stop in and talk to them tomorrow before we have lunch with Jack.”

  “Yes, let’s do that.” She continued scrolling through the phone and checking numbers on her computer.

  “I have a feeling this is going to turn into more than one day a week as Jordan’s volunteers.”

  “Do you mind? What else do we have to do?”

  I thought a moment. “Well, there’s cleaning the house, tending to my yard and flowers, quilting, etcetera.”

  “Solving murder is a lot more fun, don’t you think?”

  “It certainly is more exciting. I suppose it’s good exercise for our brains, too—figuring out who did what. Besides, we always seem to end up learning a lot of fascinating gossip.”

  She laid the phone on the desk. “I’m afraid almost all the numbers in here are for her friends and family. The puzzling one’s for the burner phone.”

  “How can you tell the others are for friends and family?”

  “Some are for people named Logan; others I’m guessing are for young people because of their names—Tiffany, Crystal, Brad, Kelly, and so forth. I could find ages on some of them.”

  “Are you getting the numbers you’re looking up from her contacts or from the numbers she called?”

  “From both. She had names with the contacts—first names, at least—and I want to contact Cindy Atkins to check several names with her. They probably had a lot of mutual friends.”

  “While you’re at it, ask her whether she knows of anyone who had a burner phone at the time of Lea’s death.”

  Andrea smiled. “Another good suggestion. I’ll make a note of it along with my list of numbers.”

  Two good suggestions in one day. Maybe someday I’d be upgraded from volunteer to consultant if I kept this up.

  #

  We arrived at the office of the Martindale City Police at noon, giving us an hour before lunch at the Garden Room. A man in uniform sat behind a desk, pecking on a computer keyboard. He finally looked up. “Can I help you?”

  “We’re volunteers with the sheriff’s office. We’re looking for information on Lea
Logan,” Andrea said. “She was murdered, and her body was found at the golf course, which is outside city limits. She lived in the city, however, and we thought she might have had some contact with your office.”

  “I remember that case. The sheriff’s office investigated it some time back.” His fingers hovered over the keyboard, as if he couldn’t wait to get back to pecking.

  “That’s correct,” Andrea said. “We’re wondering whether she had any contact with your office prior to her murder.”

  “Let’s see…I need to verify your status with the sheriff’s office before I let you look at the file—if there is a file.”

  “Of course,” I said. “If you’ll just call Jordan…”

  He was already dialing the phone. “I have a couple of ladies here who say they’re volunteers with…yes, I’ll ask. What are your names?”

  “I’m Andrea Flynn, and this is my sister, Kathleen Williamson.”

  “You heard that?” he said into the phone. “Okay, thanks for your help.” He entered some information into the computer and then turned his attention back to us. “I’ll have the file brought up.” With that he took out a cell phone and appeared to be sending a text. “Have a seat over there. This’ll take a few minutes.”

  We went to some wooden chairs along the wall. “I wonder whether we should have gotten here earlier,” I murmured. I certainly didn’t want to be late for lunch at the Garden Room.

  “We’ll see. If necessary, I suppose we could leave and come back after lunch.” Andrea’s never as interested in food as I am, but she’s never late for anything. She’s the most punctual person I know.

  There was no need to worry, however. A young lady arrived shortly and placed a thin folder on the officer’s desk.

  He handed the folder to us. “Here you go, ladies. You can look at this in the room over there.” He pointed toward a door.