Dying for a Change (4 page)

She paused a minute, glanced at Dan, looked away, and went on. “Benjamin was pretty explicit about what he’d do to Hank if he got the chance.”

“
You don’t seriously think old Benjamin Lockwood could have killed Hank, do you?” I exclaimed. “Why, he was older than dirt when we were all growing up. Besides, he wouldn’t!”

“
He wasn’t as old as we all thought,” Dan said, running his fingers through his hair, just like he used to when he couldn’t get a math problem to come out right.

“
Things aren’t what they used to be, Ellen.” Sharon had on her serious face, the one she used in the office. “Or maybe, when we were children, we saw things differently. Benjamin’s always been a little strange and ever since Rose died, he’s been — well, stranger. And he’s tough. I’m not saying he did it, but I’ll bet he could have.”

“
I don’t believe it,” I protested. “Nobody we know would do such a thing. I’ll bet it was a thief or something. Dan, don’t you think so?”

“
Mighty sloppy thief,” he commented. “Hank’s wallet wasn’t touched and the keys to the pickup were in the ignition.”

“
Maybe he was scared off,” I said, not willing to give up my easy solution so quickly.

“
By who?” Dan sounded curious, as though he was willing to explore my theory. Then he ruined it all. “Hank’s is the only house on that street close to being finished. You, Bernice and Harvey were the only ones who were there today. Except, of course, the murderer.”

I didn’t like that much. I didn’t like Dan’s grin much either. I was trying to think of something, anything, when I saw Sharon’s face. She was staring at one of the bookshelves that flanked the fireplace.

“
Is that a cat?” she gasped. Her face was white, her tone strangulated.

“
That’s Jake,” I said, wondering why she looked so strange. “Handsome, isn’t he?”

Jake, my big yellow tom, was sitting on the top shelf, shining up his white feet and bib in preparation for dinner. Dan set down his glass and started to his feet. So did I.

“
Watch this,” I told them, and whistled. Jake quit bathing, stood up, stretched, then sailed off the shelf to land on the back of the sofa where Sharon sat. She screamed, and threw her hands up over her face.

“
Take it away, please, I can’t--get rid of it!”

The panic in her voice was real. I grabbed Jake, who howled in protest, looked at Dan, who was making shooing motions with his hands, and headed for the kitchen with the cat in my arms.

“
I don’t think you were a hit,” I told him. He investigated his empty dish, and made soft complaining noises.

“
I had no idea Sharon was afraid of cats. You could get me fired, did you think of that? Then where would your dinner come from?” I opened a can, filled his dish and put it on the floor. He ignored me and started to eat.

“
Do you realize everything I’ve done or touched today has gone wrong?” was my parting comment. The tip of his tail twitched, but I didn’t think it was in sympathy for me. I closed the kitchen door so Jake couldn’t make reappearance and returned to the living room.

Sharon was sitting on the other sofa, looking better. Dan was hovering over her.

“
I’m so sorry, Sharon. I would never have whistled him down if I’d known,” I said.

“
It’s all right, Ellen,” she replied. Her voice sounded controlled and almost normal. “I’m the one who should apologize. For some reason I’ve never been able to overcome this. Such a silly thing.” She fingered the buttons on her jacket, found they were all intact, and unfolded her shapely legs. “It’s been a hard day,” she continued, with a little sigh, “the news about Hank and all. I guess the shock of seeing the cat was too much. Anyway, I think I’d like to go home. Dan, was there anything else?”

“
No, and if there is, I know where to find you,” he said. He followed her into the entry way, helped her on with her coat, opened the door for her, flicked on the porch light although it wasn’t quite dark, and waited until she was down the stairs before coming back toward the living room, the fire, and me.

“
Are you all right?” he asked, as he picked up his glass and sat back down. I was feeling pretty strung out, especially after the episode with Sharon, and I guess it showed. “What happened this afternoon, that was a tough thing to see, even for a cop.” There was sympathy in Dan’s voice, which immediately made me feel better.

“
It wasn’t fun,” I agreed, “but I think I’m over the shock.” I shuddered. “But I hope I never find another body.”

“
It’s like lightning,” Dan said, smiling a little. “It doesn’t usually strike twice.”

“
Good,” I said, and was suddenly struck dumb. I kept looking at this Dan, sitting there, an overgrown version of the boy I’d grown up with. The one who’d shared all of my holidays, taught me to swim, and later, to drive, who’d made a fort in my back yard, then wouldn’t let me in it, who’d...This wasn’t that Dan. This was a strange man, a very good-looking strange man. My Dan didn’t have silver sprinkled into his sandy hair, or a neat little mustache, and he didn’t have worry lines around his intensely blue eyes. This was a policeman, come to ask me questions about a murder, and I was suddenly wildly uncomfortable.

“
Hey, Ellie,” Dan said, putting his glass down on the round coffee table and leaning toward me. “You still in there?”

“
What?” I said, looking everywhere but at him. “What are you talking about?”

“
You look a little nervous, or something. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“
Of course,” I said, with as much dignity as I could. I unfolded my red sweat suit covered legs, thought of Sharon’s silky clad ones, vowed to throw these old things in the trash, and headed for the kitchen, wondering if he’d follow.

He did. He brought both wine bottles into the kitchen, along with the dirty glasses, put them in the sink. He leaned against the door jam, watching me.

“
I’m going to make a sandwich.” I opened the refrigerator and peered in. “Want one?”

“
Sure,” Dan said.

“
Pour yourself some more wine.”

“
One glass is all for me,” he said, still watching me. “I don’t suppose you could make coffee?”

“
Probably.” I was still staring at the shelves, wondering why I felt so strange.

“
Aren’t you getting a little cold?”

“
What?” I whirled around, ready to be defensive. “Why do you...” There stood the old Dan, back again. He could have been twelve, but he watched me out of over forty eyes. It was disconcerting.

“
I’m looking for stuff. Ham, cheese, tomato, lettuce, mayo, on wheat. Okay?”

“
You remembered.” He straightened up. “Move over. You never did know how to slice a tomato.”

I made coffee, Dan constructed the sandwiches. Followed closely by Jake, we carried everything back into the living room. This time Dan stirred the fire.

“
Wonderful.” He took a huge bite and fed Jake a piece of cheese, glanced at me, but said nothing more until his sandwich was gone. “I was starved,” he told me unnecessarily. He picked up his coffee cup, sipped and settled back, this time taking a long look at me.

“
This wasn’t how I pictured us getting reacquainted, Ellie. I had it all planned. I’d come by, bring champagne, you’d be surprised but delighted, and we’d spend a quiet evening catching each other up on the last twenty years.”

“
You surprised me.” I put down the ruins of my own sandwich. “On the whole, it was a surprising afternoon.”

“
That I can believe,” Dan said, a little wryly. “Listen, Ellie, I don’t have much time. I have to get back, but I need to ask you some questions.”

“
Do police chiefs usually make house calls?” I started to feel tense again.

“
You’re a special case,” he told me with the old Dan grin. It faded too quickly. “Now, tell me exactly what happened. Start from when you left your office and try not to leave anything out.”

I stared at him for a minute and thought back. The rain starting as I crossed the bridge, the door refusing to open, finding that it was unlocked, seeing the truck in the side yard but no other car anywhere, turning on the lights, going upstairs, and, finally, looking in the closet. I took Dan through it all, including Bernice’s hysterics.

“
She didn’t see anything, and she acted worse than anyone,” I finished. I thought about Hank’s body lying in the closet, the blood on the walls, and gave an involuntary shudder.

Dan leaned over and gave my hand a little pat. “You’re holding up great, Ellie. I’m proud of you,” he said softly. Then he sat back and proceeded to look like a policeman again. The man was worse than a chameleon.

“
Did you know Hank Sawyer?”

“
I met him yesterday,” I told him. “He came in the office looking for Sharon. Nicole introduced me. She made him sound like a pretty important client.”

“
I think he was more than that. Do you know anything about the Stop N Shop controversy?”

“
Not really,” I admitted. “There was something in the paper but I didn’t read it. Getting here, moving in, starting a new job--there’s been so much, I haven’t paid any attention.”

“
You’ve gone through a lot,” There was sympathy in his eyes. “I heard about your divorce. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t say anything for a moment. I couldn’t. How did he know? Did he also know that Brian had asked for the divorce because one of his affairs had turned serious?

“
Thanks,” I finally said, “but you don’t have to be sorry. I’m not.”

I didn’t know what else to say. Dan looked like he didn’t either. “Well. What about this store?”

“
Hank was working with Sharon to get that store approved.” There was relief in Dan’s voice as he went on.“ Being on the city planning commission, he was in a position to do some heavy duty lobbying. I didn’t know Sharon and Hank both owned shares in that partnership, though.” He looked thoughtful, and abruptly changed the subject. “Tell me what you know about Ray Yarbourough.”

“
Ray?” Surprised, I put down my coffee. “Nothing. I barely know the man. Why?”

“
Hmm. I wondered if there’d been any talk around your office. Seems Hank had told some others that, this time, he was going to get Ray’s license. Do you know anything about that?”

“
This time?” I asked, startled. “There’ve been other times?”

“
Hank and Ray have--had — a feud that goes way back.”

“
Oh,” I said, then, “Oh! You think Ray might have...”

“
I don’t think anything yet. I hear Hank was starting in on Nicole Chambers. That true?”

“
You hear a lot,” I answered, somewhat tartly.

“
There’s been a murder,” Dan said mildly. “That means we have to ask questions. Most of them lead nowhere, but we still have to ask.”

There was nothing in Dan’s statement or tone to upset me. It did anyway.

“
I don’t know these people,” I said. “I’ve only been at Harper’s a week. I met Hank Sawyer one time, and he acted just fine.”

I looked at Dan, sitting quietly on the sofa, stroking Jake, and decided I was over defensive and didn’t know why. “Ray Yarbourough is a jerk, though,” I offered, a little weakly.

Dan laughed. “You won’t get any argument from me. No one said anything about Hank and him?”

“
Not around me,” I said. “I only met Hank once, and didn’t know anything about him until Sharon told me. And I had no idea our office was handling the sale of land to Shop N Stop, or that a few people objected to it.”

“
Try half the town,” Dan said. He put Jake down, stretched, and got to his feet. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for the sandwich.” He took his coat off the peg, slipped into it, reached for the door handle, but turned back.

“
What are you doing tomorrow?” he said.

“
Working,”

“
You’ll need to give us a formal statement. I’ll pick you up at your office about eleven. That’ll give you plenty of time before we go to lunch.”

The door closed and he was gone, leaving a bushel basket of questions behind. Dan was taking me to lunch? Just like that? What happened to asking? And what was all this about Stop N Shop? What could a new store possibly have to do with Hank’s murder? Unless Sharon was right and Benjamin Lockwood--no. Absolutely not.

Ray Yarbourough? Did Hank know something that threatened Ray so much he had to kill to protect himself? Of course not. Ray was my worst image of a salesman, pushy, always talking about the close, but I couldn’t see him as a crook, and certainly not as a murderer.

I didn’t believe for one minute that Tom Chambers could do something as barbaric as beat Hank to death with a brick. I’d never seen anything but an easygoing young man. But he was obviously in love with his bubbly little wife. Did he have a violent streak? I didn’t think so.

No. Whoever was responsible wasn’t someone I knew or had ever met. I got up and went into the kitchen, looked at the merlot bottle, corked it and put it on the rack, then poured more coffee, added a little flavored creamer, and went back into the living room to give the fire another poke. I turned on the TV but didn’t watch it. There were a couple of other questions that kept repeating themselves, over and over. Why was Dan back in Santa Louisa, why, and when, had he become a policeman? One more question kept sneaking in, one I wanted to ignore, but couldn’t. Was there a Mrs. Dunham?