Evil Under the Moon (Moon Mystery Series Book 5) Read online

  “Yes, they were in there for a while. I don’t think they found nothing. If you want to look again, it’s okay.”

  She led us down a dark hallway and opened the last door on the right. The room was lighter, airier, and generally more pleasant than what we’d seen of the rest of the house. Mrs. Logan sat down in an office chair in front of a desk, and I couldn’t help thinking she wanted to keep an eye on us to make sure we didn’t steal anything. I saw a laptop case on top of the desk.

  We went through the bed first, removing sheets, pillow cases, everything, and checking under the mattress. We found nothing. We had the same results with the contents of the closet, dresser, and chest of drawers. Finally we started on the desk and found nothing there but the usual assortment of pens, pencils, paper clips, and other usual desk accoutrements. A bookcase stood beside the desk. It contained a few books, and a photo album laid flat, functioning as a bookend.

  “Do you mind if we take the computer with us, and also the photo album?” Andrea asked. “We’ll get them back to you as soon as possible.”

  “I want everything out of here. Like I said, I need to find me a renter. I was laid off a while back, and I don’t get no help from my son. Don’t bother bringing nothing back.”

  Andrea took the laptop, and I picked up the album before we made our way back to the living room. “If you’ll give us your son’s address and phone number and that of the Weaver family, we’ll go,” Andrea said.

  Mrs. Logan painstakingly wrote the information on a slip of paper. “This is my son, Terry. Just don’t tell him I give you this information. The Weavers’ number I’ll have to look up. Lucky I saved my old white pages. They don’t give them out no more.” She opened a cabinet at the side of the room, pulled out a phone book, and wrote down more information.

  Andrea looked at the slips. “Your son was Lea’s half-brother?”

  “Yes, from my first husband. He’s quite a bit older than Lea.”

  “We’ll try to see him soon,” Andrea said. “We appreciate your seeing us today. You’ve been most helpful.”

  “Yes, thanks a lot,” I added.

  She held the door open for us and then shut it as soon as we were on the porch. Back in the car, I couldn’t resist remarking, “Not exactly a candidate for mother of the year, is she?”

  “No. Kind of sad, really. Maybe it’s her personality that’s the root of the problem. She probably had an unhappy childhood herself.”

  I noticed that we weren’t headed back to the highway. “Where are we going?”

  “I thought we might as well go by the Weaver house while we’re in the area. We could talk to someone there and find out how we can see Hank Weaver. The house is just down the street.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I checked it on the phone as we were walking to the car. Here we are.” She pulled to the curb and stopped.

  Mrs. Logan had described the family as elite, but the house looked like that of an ordinary middle-class family. Then I figured that to Mrs. Logan, ordinary middle-class probably seemed elite. Maybe I should be feeling sorry for her. We got out and went to the door. The lady who answered our knock didn’t look any more elite than her house. She was a nice-looking woman, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Andrea Flynn and this is Kathleen Williamson. We’re volunteers with the Baxter County Sheriff’s Office, and we’re investigating the murder of Lea Logan. We’re trying to get in touch with Hank Weaver to see if he can give us any helpful information about Lea’s circle of friends and co-workers.”

  “Please come in. I’m Hannah Weaver, Hank’s mother.” She led us from the foyer into the living room. “Please have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee? I was just ready for a break.”

  “I’d like one,” I said, hoping to get the taste of Mrs. Logan’s stale coffee out of my mouth.

  “Yes, please,” Andrea said.

  The lady returned with a loaded tray, and we were soon sipping a much higher-class brew. The coffee certainly was more elite. “Hank is working in Ohio, but he sometimes comes home on weekends,” Mrs. Weaver said. “I could get in touch with him and see if he can come this weekend or sometime soon.”

  Such pleasant cooperation, I thought. Or was she acting as if she were sure Hank would have nothing to hide, so we wouldn’t be suspicious of him?

  “That would be helpful,” Andrea said. “In the meantime, how well did you know Lea?”

  “I knew her very well. She and Hank had dated since they met at West Liberty. They came here quite often, and we made popcorn and watched movies or a Mountaineers game. It was a terrible shock to all of us when she died. I’m glad you’re looking into the case again, and I hope you can find the killer and bring him to justice. My husband feels the same way. We both were fond of Lea.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to harm Lea?” I asked.

  “No idea at all. Everyone seemed to like her, and as far as I know, she had no enemies.”

  Everyone seemed to like her except her mother, I thought. The idea of a mother killing her daughter tried to creep into my mind, but I refused to go there. Such a notion was unthinkable.

  Mrs. Weaver got up and brought the coffeepot for refills, which I gladly accepted. “Do you have any clues so far as to who might have done it?” she asked.

  “We’re just getting started with the investigation,” Andrea said. “We’re gathering information by interviewing everyone who was close to her.”

  “I suppose that includes her mother, although I’m not sure the term ‘close’ would apply to their relationship,” Mrs. Weaver said.

  “Yes, we just talked to Mrs. Logan, and I got the impression that they weren’t awfully close,” I said, hoping to bring on more information.

  “Hank refused to go there except to pick Lea up, and then he wouldn’t go inside. He’d wait on the porch for her. Mrs. Logan is a difficult person. I only met her once, when Hank and I were grocery shopping. He introduced us, and she didn’t come across as friendly.”

  Andrea tore a page from her ever-present notebook and wrote down her name and cell number. “If you can call me and let me know when Hank would be available to talk to us, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Certainly—and I’m sorry I haven’t been more helpful, but it’s been impossible for me to believe that anyone who knew Lea could have murdered her. I’ve always wondered if someone wanted to steal her purse and ended up killing her.”

  “We can’t tell at this stage in the investigation,” Andrea said. “We appreciate your talking to us and will look forward to meeting with Hank.”

  “What do you think?” I asked as we drove away.

  “About what?”

  “About her. Was she being so friendly and helpful so we wouldn’t be suspicious of Hank, or is that her natural personality?”

  “There’s no way of telling. My guess would be that she’s naturally friendly, but a lot remains to be seen.”

  #

  We took the laptop and photo album to the office at the courthouse and got one of the biggest surprises of our lives. Andrea set the laptop case on her desk, opened it, and said, “Look at this!”

  I walked over and stood beside her. Peeking out from under the computer were the edges of bills that appeared to be of various denominations. “Let’s count it!” I said.

  “I’d love to, but they may be able to get fingerprints from them.”

  “They can get fingerprints from money?”

  “Yes, and I’m sure it’ll have many, considering how many people undoubtedly handled it in the past. Let’s take it to Jordan.” She pulled out her phone and punched in a number. “Is the sheriff in? Okay, we need to see her. We’ll be there in a minute.”

  We went upstairs and into Jordan’s office. She was behind her desk, looking through a folder. “What’s happening? How’s the Lea Logan investigation going?”

  “Couple of things to tell you abou
t, but first, take a look in Lea’s computer case.” Andrea opened the case on Jordan’s desk.

  “Holy moly! How much do you suppose is in there?” Jordan asked.

  “It’s hard to tell, with the computer sitting on top of it,” I said.

  Jordan picked up her phone. “Rick—come up here. I need you to pick up something for testing.”

  Rick Smith was in charge of forensics. He had another room in the basement at the other end of the hall from us. His room was bigger than ours, and he had all kinds of equipment in there that I didn’t understand. He showed up right away, dressed in chinos and a polo shirt. From the first time we met him, I’ve felt he was an introverted young man, somewhat awkward in socializing, and probably uncomfortable in dealing with young women his age.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “You’ve met Andrea and Kathleen, haven’t you?”

  “Sure. We share the dungeon. We’re the only ones down there…well, except for the janitor. It was inevitable that we meet.”

  Jordan gestured toward the laptop. “They’re working on the Lea Logan case. This is her laptop. They interviewed her mother this morning, and found the computer there. There’s money inside. Take it all to the basement and do your thing.”

  He took a vinyl glove from his pocket and put it on before opening the case. “Why do you suppose she had money in there?”

  “That’s just one of several things we don’t know at this point,” Andrea said.

  “I wonder if it could have been tips. She waited on us most of the time at the Garden Room,” he said.

  “Are you a member of the country club?” I asked.

  “My parents are. We eat there frequently.”

  This said a lot about Rick, a young man who had a job and was financially independent, but was still taken out to eat frequently by his parents.

  “It could be tip money,” Jordan said. “We’ll know more when you’re through with it. I need a total amount, and also a count of bills of all the denominations.”

  “I’ll get right on it,” Rick said. He picked up the case with his gloved hand and left the room.

  I couldn’t resist saying, “I wonder how close his family is to the Walter Stanley clique at the country club.”

  “I have a feeling they’re pretty close,” Jordan said. “He did a good job when Walter was sheriff, so I had no reason to think he wouldn’t when I became sheriff.”

  Would he try to sabotage Jordan? Maybe Walter was determined to get the job back, and Rick would help him by misinterpreting evidence or something of that sort. I didn’t feel I should say anything, but I figured it would be a good idea to keep an eye on him. Then on second thought, what good would that do? I wouldn’t be able to tell if he was messing with the evidence or not. I’d talk to Andrea. She’d be more likely to know if he was up to something shady.

  We decided to go on home for the day, since we couldn’t think of anything else useful to do at the moment. We went to the basement to get our purses, and Rick Smith came down the hall toward us, carrying the computer case, as we were ready to go up the stairs. “I’m through with the computer, so you can take it if you want to see what’s on it. I’m ready to start on the money.”

  “Thanks,” Andrea said, reaching for the case. “We’ll take it with us and see what we can find.”

  “Wouldn’t that be his job, checking out the computer?” I asked when we were in the car. Of course I realized the moment I said it that Andrea would prefer to do it herself.

  Then right on cue, “I’m not sure, but I’d rather do it myself. I’m glad he gave it back without going through it.”

  This made me wonder if she was thinking the same thing I was—that Rick might try to sabotage Jordan. “Do you suppose he has Jordan’s interests at heart, since his family is probably close with Walter Stanley?”

  “There’s no way of knowing at this point. We’ll do what we can to see that her interests are foremost in his work.”

  That statement told me she was suspicious, but Andrea being Andrea, was unwilling to jump to conclusions about anything till she had proof.

  “I’ll go with you to your house,” I said as we drove into Pine Summit. “I want to see what’s on the computer if you’re going to check it right away.”

  “Sure, I’m going to check it.”

  But when we got to her study and she opened the laptop, she said, “It’s password protected. We’ll have to wait.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When I walked into Andrea’s study Saturday morning, I felt as if I were in a scene from Elementary, one of those in which Joan walks in and finds a stranger at Sherlock’s desk, working away at something. I must say, the back of the man I saw was more reputable-looking than some of the characters on the TV show.

  When he turned around and looked at me, I realized it was Chad Harris, the tech whiz, previously a student in Andrea’s math classes at Pine Summit High School. “Good morning, Chad. Do you remember me? I’m Miss Flynn’s sister, Kathleen Williamson.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I remember. Good to see you.” He turned back to the laptop and went back to typing. I assumed Andrea had asked him to figure out the password so we could see what’s on the computer.

  I had walked up the hill to Andrea’s house, since we were supposed to go to Wheeling and meet Lea Logan’s half-brother, Terry Forsythe. Andrea and I don’t bother knocking at each other’s houses—I have a key to hers, and vice-versa. Half the time our doors aren’t locked, though, since Pine Summit is normally a quiet little town. Only when some criminal activity has occurred locally do we become conscientious about security.

  I wandered back to the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee. Andrea must’ve been getting ready to go, and I was early, so I went out onto the deck to wait. She joined me in a few minutes with coffee in one hand and toast in the other. “Did you have some breakfast?” she asked.

  “Yes, I figured that since we were meeting him for lunch, we wouldn’t want to have breakfast on the way. Have you ever heard of this place we’re meeting?”

  “I looked it up. It has good reviews. I think we’ll enjoy it.”

  I had my reservations about a place called Later Alligator, but Terry Forsythe had suggested we meet there, and Andrea had agreed. It was on Market Street and would be easy to find, at least. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have met with Hank, the boyfriend, on the same trip,” I said.

  “We just have to adjust our schedule to accommodate those we’re interested in seeing.” She set her cup on the table. “What do you think of the idea of visiting the cemetery where Lea’s buried?”

  “How do you know where she’s buried?”

  “I looked that up, too.”

  I wondered why this sudden interest in the cemetery. “Why do you want to do that?”

  “Just a whim, I guess. I’m not really sure why. We’ll see how much time we have after talking to the brother.”

  I was more than a little puzzled by this. Andrea doesn’t usually operate on whims. Maybe it would give us a different attitude toward the case, and make us feel closer to Lea. “Maybe it would be a good idea,” I said.

  “Let’s get started, in case I have trouble finding the restaurant.”

  I almost laughed at this. Andrea never has trouble finding anything, and I was positive she’d find Later Alligator with no problem at all. We went over the case on the way to Wheeling and tried to come up with questions to ask Terry Forsythe. “There must be something more than ‘Do you have any idea who would have wanted to harm Lea?’” I said as we were entering town.

  “That’s such a euphemism,” Andrea said, “although I admit it sounds better than ‘Do you have any idea who would have wanted to murder Lea?’”

  “Do you think the brother could be a suspect?”

  “That would be a pretty far-fetched idea. It’s obvious the mother has no money, and I can’t think of any other motive he’d have.”

  “I know,” I said. “It’s just that we�
��re short of suspects, and I keep wanting someone to consider.”

  She pulled into a parking space, and I had to admit, Later Alligator looked like a pretty nice place. I was even more impressed when we got inside. The place had a cozy atmosphere, with brick walls and a fire in the fireplace.

  Terry Forsythe was waiting for us, and he approached before we had a chance to say anything to the hostess. “I recognized you from your Facebook photo,” he said, looking at Andrea. “I’m Terry Forsythe.”

  “I’m Andrea Flynn, and this is my sister, Kathleen Williamson.” She turned to the hostess. “We’d like a table for three.”

  “I already have a table back by the fireplace,” Forsythe said.

  This suited me just fine, since it was a chilly day. We followed him to the table. “I’m delighted you’re looking at Lea’s murder again,” he said when we were seated. “Did you say you’re consultants with the Baxter County Sheriff’s Office?”

  “We’re volunteers,” Andrea said. “We’re concentrating on this case and nothing else, hoping we can clear it that way.”

  “My sister and I weren’t all that close, since there was such a difference in our ages. I was fond of her, though, and helped her with college expenses as much as I could. I bugged the sheriff’s office for ages for information about her murder, but I always felt as if I were getting the runaround. You can imagine how surprised I was when you called the other day and told me what was going on.”

  “You have my number now,” Andrea said. “Call me anytime you want. I can’t promise to have new information for you, but I’ll be glad to talk to you.”

  The waiter came and brought menus, and we all ordered coffee. “The steak salad sounds good,” I said, deciding right away what I wanted.

  The others laid their menus aside. “Did you interview my mother?” Forsythe said.

  “Yes, we talked to her several days ago,” Andrea replied. “We were able to go through Lea’s room. We found her laptop and a photo album there, and we took both the items with us. We haven’t had a chance to go through the album yet, and the computer is password protected, so we haven’t been able to investigate that.”