From Newsprint to Footprints: A River's Edge Cozy Mystery (River's Edge Cozy Mysteries Book 1) (11 page)

"Oh. Melanie Perkins."

She placed her caddy on a table by my bed and pulled out a syringe. "Is this Mr. Perkins."

"Only if I'm crazy." Syl nodded at her. "Syl Seaton."

The woman didn't smile, but looked at me as she put the rubber tourniquet on my arm so she could get at a vein. "I'm Margaret. This will just be a little stick."

Liar.

We didn't speak until she was done. "Are you from around here?" I asked.

"We moved here because my husband got a job at the plastics plant. We're from Illinois." She turned and left.

"Plastics plant?" Syl asked.

"That kind of boxy building on the south edge of town, on the river."

"What do they do?"

"I did a story on them. They make molds to make, oh, hardhats for beekeepers, sinks, lots of things."

"Who would have thought?" Syl stood and pulled the rest of the curtain back, so we could see out the window. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"My head throbs, but not as much as last night. Or, this morning, I guess it was."

"What were you thinking?"

"I mostly wasn't, I guess."

The amused look again. "That's obvious."

I felt as if I'd explained myself ten times. "I just wanted to see it the way the murderer had. I thought it might tell me something."

Syl stared at me for a couple of seconds. "Do you think you know who killed your old boss?"

"Nope. Lots of candidates."

He shook his head. "If you think you're okay, I'll head home."

"I'm a lot of trouble, aren't I?"

He smiled. "I need that yard work done." He pulled on a dark blue sports coat that he had slung on the back of his chair. "I'm sure your family and friends will be by, but if you really need something, call."

As he got to the door, I called, "Probably see you in a couple of days."

He turned. "But not before your doctor says you can do that kind of work."

I FINISHED a breakfast of Jell-O, broth, and tea and stared out the window. I hoped the nurse would do as she said and find out if I could have solid food.

My door was mostly closed, but familiar voices came from the hall.

"Let me look," Sandi hissed. "If a woman's in the room they might think you're gawking."

Ryan sort of snorted, and it sounded as if they walked by my room.

"I'm in here." I cleared my throat and spoke more loudly. "In here."

The door swung open. Sandi and Ryan more or less gaped at me.

"You don't look so hot," Ryan said.

"Shut the door, you guys."

Sandi did, and they walked to my bed.

"Don't ask me what I was thinking," I said.

"We don't know enough to do that. Stooper left a message at the paper and said he saw an ambulance drop you off here."

"Stooper? What was he doing here?"

Ryan shrugged. "Sometimes, when he's really drunk, someone who doesn't know him sees him on the sidewalk, and he ends up here."

"Great." I told them what had happened in about thirty seconds.

"Are you insane?" Sandi asked.

"I didn't think anyone else would be there," I huffed.

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked.

"Concussion, maybe. Nothing worse."

Ryan gave me a stern look. "That's a lot. Especially if you play football."

"I don't. You guys need to go see if that broom's there."

"Okay," Ryan said.

"Sheriff Gallagher would love that," Sandi added. "Plus, he probably has it."

"He said he was short-staffed last night. Maybe no one's been by."

Sandi grinned. "Call your buddy Syl."

"He's might not be home yet."

"Home from where?" Sandi asked.

"He, uh, spent the night in that chair." I pointed.

Sandi grinned more.

"Now that's a story," Ryan said.

"No, it's not," I snapped. "The sheriff said he didn't have enough deputies on duty to leave someone here, and Syl said if the hospital was locked, he'd stay."

"Bet he wouldn't do that if Ryan got hit," Sandi said, in a kind of sing-song tone.

Ryan pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket. "We need to ask you a couple of questions."

"The heck you do."

"Mel." Sandi waited until I looked at her. "You know we have to do an article."

When I ignored her, Sandi continued, "To be clear, you weren't specifically looking for the broom?"

By the time they left ten minutes later, I was drained, and it was only eight forty-five. At least I had my phone, which had been in the pocket of my sweatshirt. My truck had probably been towed into town by now. Maybe Sharon could help me get it.

Sharon. I liked my sister-in-law, but I didn't want anyone around right now. Maybe if I acted meek she'd only stay one night.

A sharp rap on the door announced Sheriff Gallagher. Behind him was Agent Masters, who wore a smirk.

"Melanie," the sheriff said.

"Sheriff."

Gallagher smiled. "You look better than last night. You remember Agent Masters."

"I wouldn't dream of forgetting him."

Gallagher shook a finger at me as he sat in the chair Syl had vacated. "This can be quick or long."

Masters leaned against the wall, opposite my bed and directly in my line of vision. "What were you doing there last night?"

"Doing? Nothing. I just wanted to see the place at night."

We went over everything I had already told Sheriff Gallagher. When I figured they had to be done, Masters added, "This makes you look guilty as hell."

I kept an even tone. "Of what?"

"You damn well know what."

I sort of snarled. "I did not kill Hal Morris. Besides, if I did, I wouldn't be stupid enough to put him someplace where I'd be the one to find the body."

When Masters started to say something, Gallagher cut him off. "Right now, that's the best point in your favor."

"I would think you'd lack forensic evidence, too." I looked at the sheriff as I said it and tried not to sound too snotty.

"Your fingerprints are all over that hoe," Masters said.

"As it's mine, they would be." I held his gaze. "Someone wants you to think it's me. You'll figure out it's not me eventually, but by that time, whoever did do it will be all cleaned up and have gotten rid of anything incriminating."

"If there is someone else," Masters said.

"It's not as if you're looking. You haven't even talked to his neighbors." I wished I hadn't said that as soon as it was halfway out of my mouth.

"Mel." Sheriff Gallagher spoke sharply. "You leave this alone, hear? I don't want to hear about any more visits to Mr. Seaton's place at night.  Any more ideas…"

"Hey, did you find the broom?"

Neither spoke, and Gallagher finally said, "No."

"See," I felt excited. "Whoever killed him wanted it."

"If it was ever there," Masters said.

Gallagher cleared his throat as he stood. "Mr. Seaton confirmed that he had one in the barn, but he couldn't remember when he last saw it."

"What about the footprint molds you made the day we found Hal?"

"The day you found him," Masters said. "And that's not for you…"

Gallagher interrupted him. "Assuming you won't repeat this, I'll say it was a very common athletic shoe. Won't be much use unless we find the exact same shoe, and even then not much."

"Nuts."

Gallagher frowned, "Is Ambrose coming down?"

I felt like a chastised child. "Sharon's coming. Ambrose has some big Farm Bureau meeting in Sioux City."

Masters seemed to want to say more, but Gallagher moved toward the door. "Tell Sharon she sees anything odd at your place, she's to call."

They left, and I leaned into my pillow. I knew I was lucky it was the sheriff himself who'd accompanied Masters, rather than Granger or a deputy I didn't know well. Granger would want to ingratiate himself to the IDI agent, and someone who hadn't known me most of my life could think I'd killed Hal.

I had enough of a headache already.

CHAPTER TEN

SHARON AND I have always gotten along. She didn't start dating Ambrose until their senior year, when I was a high school freshman. Most of their dating time was in college, at Iowa State. Since I went to the University of Iowa, we don't root for the same football team, but I don't hold it against her.

She's very tall. Ambrose likes rodeos so he taught her how to rope cows. From a horse, of course, and only for fun. Not a lot of women have the arm strength or length to do that well. She still looks as if she stepped out of a magazine, always coordinated outfits and naturally curly hair she has only to comb to look perfect. I do kind of hate her for that.

Sharon had assured the doctor I would follow all instructions for a probable mild concussion. We settled into my apartment, me lying on the couch, her bustling in the kitchen to make coffee. It hadn't even started percolating when someone rushed up the stairs and rapped on the door in shave-and-a-haircut-six-bit cadence.

"That's Fred's knock." I raised my voice. "That you, Fred?"

"Yeah, you okay?"

Sharon walked to the door and turned the deadbolt to open it. "She's been better." She stood aside so Fred could come in, giving him a sort of stern look. Fred was in the same high school class as Sharon and Ambrose, so she knows he can be a little pushy. "You're welcome to stay for a bit Fred, but no interviews. Mel said she already talked to Sandi and Ryan."

"Oh, sure."

Fred surprised me by walking to the couch, bending over, and kissing me on the cheek. "I was so worried." He handed me a Peppermint Patty, which he knows is my favorite candy.

"Gee. Thanks, Fred. Pull up one of the kitchen chairs."

"No flowers?" Sharon asked, only half-teasing.

"Mel likes to plant her own." He sniffed. "Can I get a mug of that high-test?"

"Sure."

I could hear Sharon placing mugs on the counter and getting milk from the fridge.

Fred sat next to the couch, looked at me, and shook his head. "I would have gone with you."

"No questions," Sharon called.

"I'm commiserating, not questioning." Fred grinned at me.

"I honestly thought I was just taking a dri.. Hey, do you know where my truck is?"

"In the lot behind the paper. Sheriff had had it towed to his place. Betty went down to his office and said if it wasn't evidence she'd drive it, rather than you getting some kind of storage fee or whatever. Granger hot-wired it for her, of all people."

"I'd have paid to see that."

"Me, too," Sharon called.

"Anyway, give me a key, and I'll have Ryan bring it here. He can walk back."

"You guys are the best."

Fred tilted his head toward the kitchen and whispered. "Anything you can tell me?"

"This percolator isn't so loud," Sharon said.

"C'mon, Sharon. It's not like I'm grilling her."

"It's okay, Sharon. Fred's kibitzing."

"You two," she muttered.

I looked at Fred. "It's just so odd that anyone else would have been out there."

"You don't think it could have been the owner, that Syl guy, do you?"

"Can't see why he'd knock me out. It's his place, so not like he'd have to explain himself to me."

"Knock some sense into you. You still take milk, Fred?" Sharon called.

He turned his head to answer her. "Yes, thanks." He looked back at me. "I was in Des Moines this morning. Ryan and Sandi drove out there, but they said there was a sheriff's car in the driveway, so they couldn't look for that broom."

I sighed. "When the sheriff and the IDI agent came to the hospital this morning…"

"The IDI agent?" Fred asked.

"Masters. I don't think he likes me."

"Is he the one you told off at your buddy Syl's place?" Fred asked.

"How'd you hear about that?"

Sharon called from the kitchen. "From Sophie, sheriff's secretary. At least, that's who I heard it from."

"Sheesh. Anyway, Gallagher said they found no broom. At least we know someone wanted it."

Fred tilted his head back a bit and looked toward the ceiling – his thinking position.

Sharon came in with two mugs of coffee and sat mine on the coffee table near me and the other closer to Fred.

"Sorry, Mel, yours is instant decaf."

I remembered the hospital's instruction and smiled instead of groaned.

Fred turned to look at her. "Thanks. You have any ideas, Sharon?"

She winked at me before she turned toward the kitchen to get her own mug. "I have strict instructions not to encourage Melanie to keep digging into this."

Fred grimaced, and then noted my rising color.

"So, Sharon, did Ambrose say you couldn't talk to me either?" Fred asked.

She walked into the room with her coffee and sat in the recliner. "No, but I won't be much help. I'm not suspicious like you two."

"What about Sophie?" I asked. "Did she have any ideas?"

Sharon shook her head. "Nope. Did you ever get your unemployment, Fred? I heard Hal said he fired you and then you lost the first appeal."

It was Fred's turn to redden. "How could you know that?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I stopped at the diner for coffee before I picked Mel up at the hospital."

I was delighted Sharon had asked the question. I'd know for sure if Fred won or lost his first round of appeals without having to ask.

"Damn," Fred said. "No one has any ideas about who killed Hal, but everyone knows the confidential results of my unemployment claim."

I smiled at him. "If it makes you feel any better, everyone knew you didn't deserve to be fired. We wanted you to get your unemployment." My comment seemed to calm him.

"If you must know, Hal told a bunch of lies, and I got denied. Doc Shelton went to the unemployment office a couple days after Hal died and said the Advisory Committee had looked into it, and Hal let me go so staff salaries would go down. He didn't want to pay unemployment. I heard they're going to speed up reclassifying me as a layoff."

"Do the unemployment people know the committee was mostly for show?" I asked.

"No, but most of them knew Hal, and since he's dead, he can't contradict Doc."

"Good." I gave Fred a thumb-up sign. I felt almost guilty thinking Fred might have been mad enough to kill Hal. Plus, there would be the same issue as with me. Fred might be taller and stronger than I was, but could he honestly have hauled Hal out to Syl's?

After a couple of sips of coffee, I leaned back on the couch again and shut my eyes, while Sharon and Fred talked about a married couple they graduated with who was getting divorced. Sharon was working on their class's next reunion, and since Fred was class president, she tried to goad him into hosting a barbeque at his house.

My mind kept replaying the scene at Syl's the previous night. With the broom gone, besides the night in the hospital, all I had really gained was affirmation that no one could’ve seen much from the street.

Who could have hit me? There would have been plenty of places for someone to hide. Even though I had been pretty focused on the broom, I was surprised someone had been able to sneak up on me. Maybe the person was already in the barn. Then I wouldn't have heard them strolling through the yard.

My eyes opened with a thought. "Hey, did you do that credit check we talked about?"

When Fred and Sharon stared at me, I realized I had interrupted them.  "Sorry."

"You're a hoot," Fred said, smiling. "Turns out only a spouse and Hal's executor could request it. I'm not willing to try to fool the credit agencies."

"Why'd you want that?" Sharon asked.

I shrugged, hoping Fred wouldn’t mention the bill collector. "Just a hunch. Thought maybe if he owed money someone would come looking for him."

"You watch too much TV," Sharon said.

I wrinkled my nose at her. "I got rid of cable when Hal fired me."

Fred stood. "Me, too. I'll poke around some more. Have to get back to the paper. I told Ryan he could do the first draft on your story, so I'll probably have to go over it a lot with him."

My story.

I SLEPT MUCH of Saturday afternoon, and got up at about four to take a shower. Sharon stood outside the bathroom, reading a book she'd brought. Ambrose must have told her to really keep an eye on me.

By the time I'd showered and put on clean clothes, I was ready to sleep again. This time I just dozed. Sharon made us grilled cheese for supper. My second favorite comfort food.

Sandi came by after work. I finally realized she wasn’t so much interested in who hit me as to why Syl stayed at the hospital.

"I told you already, the sheriff was down a deputy last night. Syl was just keeping an eye on me."

Sharon looked up from her book. "Bet he wouldn't have done that if you were a guy who did yard work."

"Or ugly," Sandi said.

"He doesn't strike me as that shallow." I sighed. "I really don't want to leave my innocence in anyone's hands but mine."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Sharon resumed her reading.

Sandi grinned. "I heard that the sheriff sent Granger and another deputy to talk to Hal's neighbors today. Maybe he really thinks you didn't kill Hal."

I wish I could believe that
.

"Are the IDI guys still around?"

"They didn't eat at the diner today like they usually do." Sandi's face showed excitement. "I got a call from the TV station in Quincy about you."

"What did you tell them?" Sharon's tone was kind of sharp.

"That I thought Hal was more likely to put himself in the mulch than Melanie."

Sharon smiled and went back to her book, and I laughed, which made my temples pound so I stopped. "Still no autopsy results?"

"Nope," Sandi said. "If they hadn't sent him to Des Moines, we would have had them by now."

"Anyone seen Hal's car?" I asked.

Sharon cleared her throat.

I ignored her. "Did the police take it?"

Sandi looked surprised. Gee, I figured it was in his garage or the sheriff had it."

"His neighbor told me there was too much stuff in the garage for a car."

Sharon turned a page. "Cover a lot of murders, you two?" She didn't look up.

"Thankfully, no." Sandi stood and looked at me. "Most garages have windows."

"Go for it," I said. "But watch your back."

As Sandi shut the door behind her, Sharon looked up from her book again. "I can honestly tell Ambrose people look in on you. Mrs. Keyser came up while you were napping."

"She's okay, but she would talk for two hours if I'd let her."

Sharon shut her book. "So I gathered. So, what's the plan?"

I rolled from my back to lean on one elbow as I looked at her. "You going to help?"

"Not the way you'd like, but if you promise to always work with Sandi or Fred or one of your other newspaper buddies, I'll tell him you're going to leave the investigating to them."

Sharon is usually in lock step with Ambrose, so I studied her for a second. "You would lie to Ambrose?"

"Of course not. You do have to promise. I'll tell him you're leaving it to them, and you will be sort of a consultant if they have questions. Then I'm not lying."

"Okay. Unless I go to the library to look up something, I'll work with Sandi or one of the others from the paper."
Mostly
.