Amy Patricia Meade - Marjorie McClelland 02 - Ghost of a Chance (19 page)

“How very honorable of you,” Creighton quipped. “I’m sure
you’ll be nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize for your humanitarian efforts. This exchange of money, however-where was it to
take place?”

“The fair at noon. Nussbaum set the time and place. I was to
meet him outside the Ferris wheel. It all sounded pretty Hollywood to me-money in a burlap sack and all that jazz-but I went
along with it.”

“And after you got your money, what then?” Jameson prodded.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Saportio minced, “I kinda lied to Nussbaum about the divorce. While I was getting the money, Josie
packed her things. The plan was I’d pick her up at the hotel and
we’d take off with the dough. I kinda felt bad for Nussbaum at the
time, but now that I know he was still married, that changes everything. Honestly, some people are so crooked, they don’t even take
marriage seriously.”

Creighton rolled his eyes. “Mmm. Like you said, it’s a dog-eatdog world.”

“Ain’t that the truth. But, live and learn,” Saporito waxed philosophical. “Anyways, this should put me in the clear for killing that
crumb Nussbaum.”

“How?” Jameson challenged. “All your story proves is that you
were at the fair on the day of the murder.”

“What do ya mean? I had no gripe with Nussbaum. Why would
I wanna kill him?”

“You may not have had a gripe with Nussbaum, but he may
have had one with you. If he sensed that things weren’t on the upand-up with you and Josie, he could have caused problems for both
of you. Problems that would have required him to be silenced.”

“That’s not how it happened,” Saporito insisted. “I didn’t get to
the fair until eleven forty-five. Nussbaum was dead before I could
even meet with him. Someone bumped him off before I could get
the money. I swear to God! I may be a blackmailer but I ain’t a
killer.”

“We’ll see about that,” Jameson proclaimed. “I suppose no one
can vouch that you arrived at the fair at eleven forty-five?”

“No, but-”

“I thought not. In which case, we’re going totally by your word.
Not exactly a watertight alibi. Besides, you still haven’t explained that
note.” Jameson left the table and leaned into the hallway to summon
someone.

“What note? I told you I don’t know nothin’ about a note!”

Jameson returned to the table and pulled the paper lined with
numbers from a manilla folder. He placed it in front of Saporito.

“You think I wrote this? Like I’d write something in numbers. I
hated math as a kid-numbers mean nothing to me!”

Detective Logan entered the room with a uniformed police officer.

“How do you explain your name as the signature?” Jameson
probed.

“I dunno. But it’s not me. I swear to God!” He invoked the sign
of the cross. “You have to believe me. The plan was to get the money
and run away. Nothing more. I wouldn’t have put anything in code.
I couldn’t.”

“What about Josie? Or is she still innocent?”

“Josie? I never … I never thought about her writing it.”

Jameson nodded to Logan and the uniformed officer helped
Saporito out of his seat.

“Angel,” he implored of Marjorie. “Angel, have a heart. Tell him
I didn’t do it.”

“I won’t tell him anything of the sort. I don’t even know youexcept that you’re a married man who let his wife live with another
man to turn a profit.” Marjorie pulled a face. “You should be locked
up on that count alone.” She waved Logan and the uniformed officer out of the room and then quickly summoned them back. “Oh,
and if you want me on your side, don’t call me `angel.”

With that, she waved the suspect away without so much as a
backward glance.

THE TRIO STEPPED OUT of the brick police department building
and into the late afternoon sunshine.

Creighton glimpsed at his watch. “Five minutes after five. Perfect. Vanessa instructed me to invite you both back for dinner and
drinks. That is, if you’re off duty for this evening, Jameson. Which,
according to my clock, you should be.”

Jameson nodded. “Logan’s out arresting Josie for her part in the
extortion scheme, so there’s nothing else for me to do today. Where
did you park?”

“I didn’t bring the car. Vanessa’s house is just a few blocks from
here-by the time I got that old jalopy of Mrs. Patterson’s started I
could have walked here and back three times.”

“Ha ha,” Marjorie scoffed. “You’ll be surprised how smoothly
that car drives when you take it back to Ridgebury.”

“Yes, when it stalls and I have to coast downhill.”

It was Jameson’s turn to laugh. “We’ll walk with you, Creighton.
I parked the car in the station lot, so it’ll be safe until we’re done”

“Yes,” Marjorie agreed. “We’ll walk with you despite your shortsightedness. It’s a beautiful day-and I could use some exercise and
fresh air.”

The trio started walking in the direction of the Randolph home.
“I say, Jameson,” the Englishman ventured, “I’m not one to question your methods, but why didn’t you arrest Herbert Nussbaum?
It seemed like we had enough evidence to hold him.”

Marjorie concurred. “I’m surprised too. Logan found him working on the darts and the cab driver witnessed him at the crime scene.
I know it’s not enough to convict him, but aren’t you afraid he and
his mother may try to pull a `Josie’ and skip town?”

“That’s why Logan has a bunch of his men trailing the Nussbaums. If any of them so much as look at a train schedule, they’ll
bring them in.”

“Ok, but why not arrest them at the station?” Marjorie pursued.

“A couple of reasons. First, Herbert Nussbaum is a minor. If
I arrest that kid before I’m 100 percent certain he’s the killer, the
press, the mayor, my sergeant, and every child welfare organization
in the country would have a field day-all at my expense. Not to
mention I have proof that Mateo Saporito-a man with a criminal
record-was at the fair about the same time Herbert was, and that
he had an equally strong motive for murder. No, the first major
arrest in this case is not going to be of a smart-aleck, sixteen-yearold kid. Not if I can help it.” He paused. “Second, there are three
people in that house, all of whom had a motive to kill Alfred Nussbaum. Even if Herbert committed the crime, we can’t be certain he
acted alone. Not after Bernice made that slip about the Hideaway
Hotel. Herbert obeys his mother’s every word. It’s entirely feasible
that she came up with the idea and asked Herbert to carry it out.”

“It’s a definite possibility,” Creighton agreed. “We all saw how
she bullied him into denying that he was at the fair.” He did a deadon impersonation of Mrs. Nussbaum: “Herbert, Mommy’s defending you!”

Marjorie giggled. “Yes, but the fact that he was at the fair appeared
to startle her. You saw how she reacted. That was genuine surprise.
She even started to say something, and then thought better of it. `I
didn’t know you were…’ That’s what she said.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Jameson countered. “Bernice
could have asked Herbert to make the darts and committed the
crime herself. Herbert’s a morbid kid. He could have sneaked off
to the fair to watch his mother bump off his father, and Bernice
would be none the wiser. Heck, even Natalie could be tied up in
this somehow. It wouldn’t have taken much coercion on her part
to convince her brother to participate in an honest-to-goodness,
real-life crime.”

“Yes, but we have no evidence that either of them were in Ridgebury on Saturday,” Creighton pointed out.

“Not yet, but I’ve had Noonan scouring train and bus stations
to see if anyone remembers seeing Bernice or Natalie. They don’t
have a car and they have don’t enough money to hire a cab all the
way to Ridgebury. If either of them were there, it’s a safe bet they
took either the bus or the train.”

“Hmmm. Had I known so many people were headed to Ridgebury, I’d have opened you a hot dog stand, Marjorie,” Creighton
quipped. “It’s less work than these murder investigations and you’d
have made a fortune.”

Marjorie wrinkled her nose at the Englishman. “Well, at least
we’ve figured out whom Nussbaum was meeting at noon. Although,
it pretty much exonerates Saporito from being the killer.”

“What do you mean?” Jameson quizzed. “No one can confirm
Saporito arrived at the fair after the murder occurred. Likewise, we
have no proof that Saporito was scheduled to meet Nussbaum at
noon. He could have been the eleven o’clock appointment. Again,
all we have is his word. Until we have evidence to substantiate his
story, he’s still a suspect”

“But why would he have killed Nussbaum before he got his
money? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Again, there’s no proof that Saporito didn’t get his money. Nussbaum didn’t have $5,000 in cash on him when he was killed. He had a
pocket full of change and nothing more. It’s easy to imagine Saporito
taking his money and then killing Nussbaum to cover his tracks.”

“Your reasoning makes sense,” Creighton allowed. “But you’re
overlooking one thing. Do you really think Saporito is the type to
use a poison dart? I would have fancied him the type to shoot someone with a gun or beat a fellow to death, but poison dart? Not only
is it not `tough’ enough for him, but he’s not smart enough to come
up with it. I own suits with higher IQs than Saporito’s.”

Marjorie laughed out loud. “Creighton’s right. Saporito hardly
seems the type to devise something as exotic as a poison dart.”

“Exotic,” Creighton continued. “Yes, that’s the word I was looking for. A poison dart has style, sophistication. But Saporito? When
he wasn’t calling Marjorie `Angel,’ he was referring to his wife as a
`dame’ It took every ounce of self-control I had not to punch him
right in the nose, particularly when he called Marjorie a `mouthy dame.’ Of course, he has a weight advantage and could have given
me a proper pummeling, but I’m wiry when I want to be.” He executed a few boxing moves to punctuate his statement. “And, it goes
without saying that I could have outsmarted him. Not that it’s saying
much-after all, a sheep could outsmart Saporito. Unless Saporito
ate the sheep first.”

Marjorie laughed again, and then stopped suddenly. She had, in
truth, been quite annoyed at Saporito for the “mouthy dame” comment and had also been somewhat irritated that Jameson hadn’t
leapt to her defense. But Creighton had-a fact that hadn’t gone
unnoticed. She gazed surreptitiously at the tall man who walked
beside her. Would he have fought Saporito for her? Was Robert
right-did Creighton care for her? Or had all of those feelings been
replaced by his love for Vanessa? And what had been Vanessa’s reply
to his proposal? One thing was for certain, before the night was over,
she would have to find out.

“It’s lovely of Vanessa to invite us for dinner,” Marjorie said. “I’m
glad Robert doesn’t have to work. I’d be awfully upset if we had to
turn her down again.”

“Oh, I don’t think you could have gotten away with turning her
down twice in a row. Vanessa was hell bent on having you two over
for dinner tonight,” Creighton answered. “Once that woman gets an
idea in her head, she doesn’t take `no’ for an answer. Like another
certain someone I know…”

Jameson laughed. “You’ve got that right.”

Marjorie, however, saw an opportunity to acquire the information she sought. “And what about you, Creighton? I don’t figure
you’ve heard the word `no’ very often in your lifetime.”

“My dear, Marjorie,” he sighed, “If it weren’t for the existence
of the word `no, the most important questions I’ve ever asked in
my life would have gone unanswered.”

Vanessa wheeled herself to the front door and gave each of her guests
a warm welcome. “Marjorie, dear.” She kissed Marjorie on the cheek
and then embraced Detective Jameson. “Robert. How are you? I do
hope you don’t mind me `kidnapping’ you, but when I heard you
were both in town, I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity
to make up for the dinner we missed.”

She ushered them into the living room, where the housemaid offered martinis on a silver tray. Creighton passed the drinks around.
“Martha makes the best martinis this side of the Mississippi,” he
teased the maid, who blushed a bright crimson. “Probably the other
side too, but I’ve never been there, so I can’t rightly say, can I?”