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

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Jordan said. She motioned for him to come forward and put the case he was carrying on her desk. “What have you found out about the money in Lea’s laptop case?”

  “Not a lot, actually. Her fingerprints are on some of it, and I could only get a few clear prints other than hers. It’s money that’s been used quite a bit, and it’s more difficult to get prints. I didn’t find any others that were in the database.”

  “How much money is in there?”

  He handed Jordan a list. “There was $1,749.00. All the denominations and their amounts are listed here. The only other thing of interest was a bit of rosin on the exterior of the case.”

  “Rosin…such as is used on the bows of stringed instruments?” Andrea said.

  “Yes, that’s what I’d assumed this rosin was used for. It was in tiny pieces, as if it had been rubbed on a bow and tiny fragments were dislodged. There are other uses for rosin, but I believe this is the only possibility in this case.”

  “I wonder if Lea knew any musicians,” I said.

  “They sometimes have a string quartet in the Garden Room on Sunday afternoons. The group is made of ladies from here in Martindale. I don’t know whether Lea knew any of these musicians, but she’d be there waiting on tables when they were playing.”

  “Do the waitresses help with clearing tables, or is it just the bus people?” Jordan asked.

  Rick moved closer to the desk and set the case on it. “When they get really busy, most everyone pitches in.”

  “I need to take this to the safe,” Jordan said as she stood up and picked up the case.

  The safe was such a drab old item in our office that I hadn’t paid any attention to it as we tried to solve Lea’s murder. It made sense that a case with money in it would need to go into the safe. Jordan would have the combination, of course, probably furnished to her by Walter Stanley. She verified this for me when she said, “Walter Stanley gave me the combination on a slip of paper and then insisted I memorize it and burn the slip.”

  The four of us walked downstairs, and it wasn’t until Rick had gone on to his area that Jordan said, “I’m worried that I’ve forgotten the combination. I’ve had so much catching up to do, getting started as sheriff, that I hadn’t taken the time to open the safe. I haven’t had a reason to. Keep your fingers crossed.”

  I took note of the fact that she had waited till Rick had gone on before saying this. This brought back the feeling that Rick and his family, country club members, were probably friends of the former sheriff. Because of the contentious relationship between Walter Stanley and Jordan, she surely wouldn’t want him to know she was having a problem with anything.

  She went to the safe and played around with the knob on the front for a few minutes. When she turned, she looked totally dismayed. “Please don’t say anything to anyone about this. I’m going to put the case in my safe deposit box for now. There’s no way I can ask Walter for the combination. He gave it to me once, and I should have memorized it and practiced before now.”

  “Of course we won’t say anything,” Andrea assured her. She handed Jordan a large bag she was going to use when we stopped by the store later. “Put the case in this, and you can carry it to the bank without anyone noticing.”

  Jordan looked as if she might cry, but might is the operative word. She would never do that in the courthouse. “Thanks. You two are such a help. I’ll go home this evening and have a glass of wine in front of the fireplace. I’m sure the combination will come to me.”

  She slid the laptop case into the bag and left with it, saying she’d take it to the bank right away.

  “Let’s go to the Wal-Mart and check out the flower wrapper to see if it’s the same as the ones they have here,” Andrea said. “We just have time to do that before we stop at the jewelry store to get Jack and go on to lunch.”

  “You know what I think?” I asked when we were safely in the car. “I think that was Rick Smith we saw in the cemetery.”

  “You think that because of his injury?”

  “Yes. Don’t you agree it’s likely?”

  She stopped at a traffic light. “I’d say it’s a possibility. Likely may be too strong a word. And if it was him in the cemetery, that doesn’t mean he killed Lea. Maybe he just had a crush on her.”

  “He certainly knew her. He said he and his parents eat at the Garden Room a lot.”

  Andrea pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot. “It’s definitely something to consider.”

  We went inside and found the flowers. The wrapper Andrea took from her purse was identical in every way. Of course it could be identical to those in every store in the country. “The flowers definitely were bought at a Wal-Mart somewhere,” I said.

  “Obviously. Now let’s go on to get Jack so he can drive us to Tony Calabria’s for lunch.”

  I speculated all the way about what we’d be eating—especially for dessert.

  #

  Tony’s place was a modest frame house of a certain age, typical of almost all homes in Martindale. Jack rang the doorbell, and Tony answered right away. He led us through a short hallway and into a living room on the left. Two others were seated in the room, and they both stood up when we came in.

  Tony introduced us to the woman first; she was Ruth Freer. She appeared to be in her thirties and had hair that was red fading into gray. She didn’t look all that happy to be present at this gathering, but she shook hands with us and sat back down.

  The young man, who probably was in his early twenties, was Adam Clark. He was a good-looking, boy-next-door type who appeared to be happy that he was asked to participate.

  “Ruth is our sous chef at the Garden Room,” Tony explained, “and Adam is our busboy for the evening shift. He’s also a student at Martindale Community College.”

  “Both of you worked with Lea at the time of her death?” Andrea asked.

  “I was there just before Lea’s death, and then I was away for a few years. I just came back a couple of weeks ago,” Ruth said.

  “I worked with Lea,” Adam said. “That was my first summer to work at the Garden Room.”

  “Do any of you have an idea why Lea was killed?” Andrea asked.

  All three insisted they knew of no reason anyone would have wanted to murder Lea. “She was a fine young lady,” Tony said. “She was always ready to do anything around the restaurant, from washing dishes to bussing tables, in addition to her waitress duties.”

  I figured she’d had plenty of training at home, considering how much neater her room had looked compared to the rest of her mother’s house.

  “She used to share her tips with me more than any other waitress,” Adam said. “I miss her.” Then he looked like he was debating whether to say more. Finally he continued: “I don’t know if I should say anything, but there was that guy that was always hitting on her. I can’t remember his name. He’s a big wheel at the club.”

  “Are you thinking of Chester Hubbard?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that’s the name. I hope what we say here is confidential.”

  “What you say may not always be confidential, but we’ll try to keep the person who said it to ourselves. We do have to report to Jordan.”

  Andrea took out her notepad and looked at it. “What can you tell me about the string quartet that plays at the restaurant occasionally?”

  “I think they call themselves the String Quartet of Martindale,” Tony said. “We don’t have anything to do with arranging their performances. Someone else does that, but I’m not sure who it is. They just appear, usually on a Sunday afternoon. The last time they came, it was just before Christmas. We had some nice Christmas music.”

  “So they don’t come all that often,” Andrea said.

  “Adam can tell you more about them. Ruth and I are always busy in the kitchen and don’t have a chance to see them. We just hear them—faintly.”

  “It’s four older women,” Adam said. “I think they all live in Martindale, or in this area
. I don’t really know any of them.”

  This didn’t seem like a hopeful area to pursue. Besides, I was wondering why Tony had shut down like a clam when the club manager came to our table the day we had lunch. “Who’s in charge of hiring and firing restaurant employees?”

  “Stuart Kerr, the club manager, is basically in charge, although I like to have some say in the matter,” Tony said.

  This sounded like an area where the two could have disagreements and probably explained Tony’s coldness toward the manager. “You surely have some input about kitchen employees,” I said.

  “Not always as much as I’d like, but who in this world has a job that’s perfect in every way?”

  Ruth hadn’t said a word since replying to Andrea’s first question and assuring us she had no idea who killed Lea. I admit, I was curious about her. She seemed so remote and mysterious. “Are all of you originally from Martindale?” I asked.

  “I grew up here,” Adam said. “Always have lived here.”

  “I’m originally from Wheeling, but I’ve been here –let me see—it’s eight years now,” Tony said. “The restaurant I was working in closed, and the Garden Room had an opening. It seemed like fate.”

  Ruth didn’t say anything in response to my question, and she stood up and looked like she was sniffing the air. “I think the soufflé is done. I’d better go check.”

  “Let’s move to the dining room,” Tony said. “Ruth volunteered to make a soufflé for lunch today, and the salad’s ready, as well as the rolls.”

  Ruth didn’t look to me like the kind of lady who’d volunteer for anything, but she certainly couldn’t be trying to poison us, since she’d be eating the same thing we were. I’d never tasted a soufflé and was eager to try it.

  Tony led us through the hall and to the dining room, where a table was set with six places. The china was white, and the tableware appeared to be sterling. A bottle of wine sat in a bucket at the end of the table. “Please have a seat. Jack, please open the wine and pour it. I’ll help Ruth in the kitchen.”

  Andrea and I sat down side by side, and Adam was across from us. “I hope I can figure out which fork to use,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Andrea said. “I hear we’re supposed to start from the outside and work our way in, so we’ll try that, okay?”

  He grinned. “I’ll watch you and do what you do.”

  Tony and Ruth returned with the food, and Tony served the soufflé. We passed around the salad and rolls. The wine turned out to be a nice white with just the slight amount of sweetness I liked.

  I felt compelled to say, “This looks delicious,” before starting, and it was delicious. I imagined Tony hadn’t objected to the hiring of Ruth, if she could make a soufflé like the one I was enjoying.

  We forgot about murder and chatted about food and local doings in Martindale. When we were through, Tony left and returned with a serving plate loaded with something that looked interesting. I was at a loss as to what it was, but Andrea spoke up. “I love tiramisu. A perfect ending to a lovely lunch.”

  I was impressed that she recognized the dessert. This was something else I’d never tasted. Ruth got up and brought coffee while Tony served. By this time I was wondering how to go about getting invited back for lunch on a regular basis. Then I thought about my computer and my newly acquired computer skills. I could look up recipes for soufflé and tiramisu and make them myself. Or I could probably find them in my ancient copy of Joy of Cooking. I could have Andrea and Jack for lunch, or maybe I’d invite my quilting friends. I’m known as a pretty good cook; there’s no reason I can’t expand my repertoire.

  “Let’s go to the living room with our coffee,” Tony said.

  “Can we help you clean up first?” Andrea said.

  “Thanks, but Mandy’ll take care of it. She’ll be in this afternoon. She’s always glad to clean up my messes if I give her some of the leftovers to take home.”

  I assumed Mandy was his maid. I picked up my cup and followed him across the hallway, trying to think of other questions we needed to ask. Andrea had one right away. “Did Lea’s boyfriend ever come to the restaurant?”

  “He picked her up occasionally on her days off. She didn’t have a car. I think Cindy had one. Cindy is her roommate…or was.”

  “Yes,” Andrea said, “we’ve talked to Cindy. Lea’s death seemed to have been quite traumatic for her. But what was your impression of her boyfriend?”

  “He came to the back door and waited for her. Polite young man. Seemed to be fond of her, as far as I could tell.” Tony looked at Adam. “What did you think of him?”

  “I liked him fine. He seemed to treat her really nice. She said he bought her flowers a lot. One time she and Cindy invited me to a party at their apartment. There was a big bouquet of roses on the table.”

  Flowers. Interesting. Could he be the one leaving flowers on her grave? It would make sense, but then we didn’t know where he lived in Ohio. If he didn’t come home every weekend, would he be coming to Wheeling to bring flowers? “Was he at the party?”

  “No, it was just some of us that work at the Garden Room. It was one of those impromptu get-togethers.”

  I wondered if Ruth had been invited, but I didn’t want to make a point of asking. Besides, did this have anything to do with Lea’s murder? “Did any of you ever meet members of her family?”

  “I think her father came by the restaurant once,” Tony said. “I only said hello to him at the door.”

  “We also need to interview Farley Harper, the course superintendent,” Andrea said. “Do you think he’d be working today?”

  “I doubt it. There’s not much to do there this time of year. He gets really busy when the weather gets nicer.”

  “I have his home address. We’ll see if we can find him there.”

  We thanked them profusely for their time and information, and also for the wonderful lunch. As they walked us to the car, I thought about the many times I’ve waited till getting into Andrea’s car before discussing something with her, something I wanted no one else to hear. And that was the case this time, too.

  “What do you think about Lea’s boyfriend giving her flowers? Maybe he was the one at the cemetery.”

  “I’m not sure where he lives in Ohio, but we’ll find out this weekend. I had a text from Mrs. Weaver, and she said he’ll be home then. They want us to come by Saturday morning at ten. If he doesn’t come home every weekend, I’d guess that means he’s probably far enough to make weekend trips to the cemetery inconvenient.”

  “I’m also wondering what you think about Ruth Freer. She’s an odd duck. I asked whether they were originally from Martindale, hoping to get more information from her, but she never answered my question. She had to rush off and get the soufflé out of the oven.”

  “I’m not sure what to think about her. She’s rather mysterious.” Andrea looked at her GPS and pulled to the curb. “This should be Harper’s house.”

  The door opened as we went up the stairs and onto the porch. A man stood behind the screen door. He appeared to be middle-aged, with thinning hair and dark-rimmed glasses. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Andrea Flynn, and this is my sister, Kathleen Williamson. We’re volunteers with the sheriff’s office, and we’re working on cold cases. May we come in?”

  “I suppose so. I hear you two are working on the Lea Logan case. I already told the sheriff everything I know. I made a statement.”

  “I realize that, but we just want to discuss the case again. You might have remembered something more…”

  He pushed the screen door open. “More than likely forgot whatever I knew in the first place, but come on in. Geneva—put a pot of coffee on.”

  I noticed then that a woman stood in a doorway behind him. She wore an apron and held a spatula. She was plump and had blond hair of the type that always looked as if it just came from the salon. She turned and, I supposed, went to the kitchen. “We appreciate your seeing us,” I said.
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br />   “No problem. Lucky you caught me, though. I was thinking about going over to the golf course to see if it’s time to call the mowers out.”

  Andrea pulled out her notebook. “Would you please go over what happened that morning?”

  “Well, I went to the course real early to look for a lost golf club. Chester Hubbard told me he’d lost a pitching wedge somewhere, and he thought it might have been around the back nine. I had my dog with me, and he started barking under a big sycamore that stands at the edge of the course. I went over to see what he was barking about, and I spotted Miss Logan’s body there under the tree.”

  “I’m sure you called someone immediately,” Andrea said.

  “Yes, I called 911, and the dispatcher sent a deputy out right away. The course isn’t within city limits, so the sheriff’s office had to be called. He came and asked me a lot of questions, and he called the medical examiner, too. Then I went to their office and gave them a statement.”

  I wondered whether we should mention the fact that we didn’t find his statement in the case records. I’d wait and see whether Andrea said something, but she changed the subject. “According to the records we have at our office, the officer who came to the scene was Deputy Edmund Brady. We haven’t been able to track him down, and I wonder if you know where he is now.”

  “I have no idea what happened to him. I don’t keep up with the sheriff’s office and what goes on there.”

  “Did you notice Miss Logan’s purse when you found her?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. It was there beside her. The deputy put gloves on and put it in a bag. I definitely remember that.”

  The woman I assumed was Geneva came in with coffee on a tray, and we went through the usual introductions and helped ourselves to coffee. She sat down, looking as if she were eager to hear what was going on.

  “Do you remember whether the deputy looked in the purse before putting it in the bag?” Andrea asked.