GG01 - Sudden Anger (27 page)
"He was such a pompous ass, yet he always seemed to get the breaks. I knew he was proud of that Jag, so I figured I'd key it, leave a big scratch. It sounds immature to say it now, but I was angry at the time. I looked around to make sure no one was looking, walked over and drug my key along the side."
"But when I got to the window I saw it was down. That
really
got my dander up. You'd think he'd know better than to leave the car open like that, but he was arrogant enough to assume that no one would steal it. So you see, I didn't
need
to break in."
"He left his car unlocked in a public parking garage?" Ken asked, amazed.
"I don't know if he did all the time, but he had that day. It was a nice day, he might've had the windows open as he drove. I guess he thought he'd just be a few minutes and didn't bother. I don't know, but it was down. Then I saw the gun."
"It was in plain sight? In an unlocked car?" Ken asked.
"Yeah, it was just lying there on the passenger seat," Jack said. "I reached in the window and took it. I thought it would serve him right to have the gun stolen. I mean, he'd practically
invited
someone to take it!"
"Did you have a cup of coffee with you?"
Jack thought for a second before replying. "Yes, I think I did. I like coffee and Donettes, Charles was always razzing me about them. I keep a bag in the car so I can grab a couple whenever. In fact, I remember now, I'd been munching one as I keyed the car. A little dessert after lunch. What's that got to do with all this?"
"You spilled the coffee when you reached for the gun," Ken told him. "
And
got powdered sugar crumbs on the seat. I remembered you were eating a donut the day we met in Mr. Wilkins' office."
"Oh," Jack said, tonelessly.
"So you took the gun from the car. Then what?"
"Like I said, I was angry. As I walked back to the door I just seemed to get madder and madder. The man was so
careless
, leaving a gun lying around like that. I decided I'd really get his goat, I'd shoot the gas tank and his precious expensive car would
explode
"
"You've been watching too many movies, Mr. Dunbar," Ken said. "That doesn't happen in real life."
"I know that now," Jack replied. His tone was emotionless as he continued his story. "I stood behind the exit door, it was open just far enough so I could see around it to shoot. I thought it would shield me from the explosion. Except the car didn't explode! That made me even madder, so I shot at it again. My hand was shaking, that first shot was
loud
in that garage, I thought people would come running to see what the noise was. So I was nervous, my aim was off, and the bullet went through the window. The car alarm went off, and I knew I had to get out of there."
"You're saying Mr. Greene
wasn't
in the car when you fired the gun?" Ken asked.
"That's right. I wasn't trying to kill him, that thought never entered my head. That would be
murder
, and I could never murder anyone. I don't have the guts. I just wanted to ruin his car. I
know
you think it's connected to the murder later in the day, but I had nothing to do with that," Jack replied.
"What confused us was that your second bullet went through the car's headrest, making it look like someone had tried to kill Mr. Greene in the garage," Ken told him.
"Oh." Jack seemed totally uninterested. By this time he was so demoralized he couldn't seem to think of anything but telling the cop what had happened. "I tossed my coffee cup in the trash so I could use both hands to wipe off the gun, ran to the car and threw it back on the seat. I didn't want to risk keeping it. Then I ran out of there and back upstairs to my car and left. I didn't know what else to do. That's all there was."
Ken looked at the little man slumped in his chair. "You're under arrest for vandalism and illegal discharge of a firearm."
* * * *
It was late in the afternoon; Ken had finished questioning someone about another case and decided to drop by the Greene home to tell them that another piece of the mystery had been solved. He knew the funeral was the next day, so he wasn't surprised to find the whole group of family and friends at the house.
They were surprised to hear about Jack Dunbar's vandalism, though the doctor did remember Greene had made an ugly comment about a co-worker at the party. There was a ripple of relief in their halting laughter over the coincidence of the bullet passing through the headrest. It made them all feel a little easier knowing that the man hadn't been trying to kill Greene, though it didn't answer the question of who had.
"You figured all that out from a
coffee stain
on the seat?" Clarke asked.
"I did," Ken replied with a smile. "
After
your sister convinced me that it was important."
"Way to go, Gracie!" Clarke said enthusiastically.
"I'm afraid the lieutenant thought I was bothering him," Gracie said. "But I just kept thinking that I couldn't explain it away so it must be important. I'd thought about someone keying the car, too, but it never occurred to me that it was connected."
"Well, I'm glad you kept bothering me about it," Ken said. "Once I had those crumbs analyzed it triggered a memory of meeting Dunbar; he was eating one of those donuts then. I'd eliminated him as a suspect of the actual murder, but had been making the mistake of assuming the shots in the garage were related."
"I know we're all glad to learn the truth about the damage to the car," Clarissa said. "At the risk of stating the obvious, that still leaves the actual murder. Have you learned anything more about that?"
"Not a great deal, but I do have some good news on that front," Ken replied. "I've been able to verify alibis for Mr. Wilson and his daughter, and for Ms. Thomas also. They were indeed where they said they were at the time of the murder."
This was greeted with nods and mumbles of "good", except for Jeanine who loudly inquired, "You mean you
really
thought I might've done it?"
"I have to check out every possibility," Ken said diplomatically.
"Hmpf!" Jeanine snorted. "Took you long enough."
Ken chose to ignore her remark. "Unfortunately, that pretty much eliminates all possible suspects we're aware of at the moment!" He stabbed the air with a raised finger to add emphasis to his next words. "But that doesn't mean we've stopped investigating. This case isn't going to be solved quickly, I'm afraid. But we will continue checking out leads and looking for more. We will do out best to find the perpetrator."
Gracie was sitting out by the pool when Clarke joined her. "Whatcha doin' sitting out here all alone?" he asked.
"Just thinking about things," she replied.
"How are you holding up? You're not all depressed, are you?"
"I'm OK, Clarke," she said. "I'm upset, but I'm not depressed. I miss Dad."
"Yeah, I even miss him. I just wish someone
else
had."
Gracie smiled. "Do you ever stop joking?"
"Made you smile, that's worth it," Clarke returned. "So what're you thinking about?"
"What happened, of course," she told him. "Who could've wanted to kill Dad, and why, and how did they do it?"
"You're getting to be quite the detective," Clarke said. "I really mean that, you've done a great job. We all thought someone was following Dad around trying to kill him and now we know that's not the case, thanks in large part to you. So who do you think really did it?"
"Like the lieutenant said, we're running out of suspects," Gracie replied. "It wasn't you or me or Justin. Mom was playing golf. Clay and Candy are accounted for now, too. Jennifer was talking to the cops when it happened, but I'm not entirely sure it couldn't have been Cindy."
"If Cindy did it, wouldn't that mean Jennifer knew – or even masterminded it?" he asked.
"I can't see Jennifer masterminding
anything
!" Gracie laughed. "But yeah, I'd think she'd have to know. Maybe that was what Lieutenant Freeman was talking about when he said they were continuing to follow leads. He could still be looking at Cindy, but not saying anything until he's sure."
"I understand he talked to the neighbors, too," he said. "Did he think the guys might've been pissed over a poker game, or that George finally had his fill of noisy parties?"
"I guess it
could
have been George," she said meditatively. "He was home alone all day. He could've been listening at the fence when Dad told us about the Bixby presentation, too. Somehow I just can't see it, though."
"Who does that leave?" he asked.
"Bill was in the lab all afternoon. But of all of us,
he
has absolutely no motive at all."
"I guess a bottle of chemicals is better than a bottle of booze as an alibi," Clarke said. "But neither one of them can talk to say they kept him company."
"He's got lab notes, the lieutenant saw them."
"He could've written those up anytime," Clarke told her. "Even the night before if he'd planned the whole thing out. He's very meticulous and organized. What nixes it for me is that someone would've seen him walking around campus. He locks the door to keep people out, but
he
has the key, he could get out if he wanted. Except he couldn't possibly walk through the chem building and across the parking lot without being seen."
"I hadn't thought about it like that," Gracie said. "I guess because I just can't see why he'd want to do it. For awhile I thought it might've been Aunt Jeanine."
Now Clarke laughed, long and hard. "Aunt Jeanine? Can you imagine her waddling out across the grass – she'd probably trip and fall on her keister! Or get smacked in the forehead when the gun recoiled. She'd forget and bitch about the bruise."
"Oh, I agree! But you have to admit she's got a good motive.
You
heard Dad tell her she's in his will, and you know she always needs money."
"I'd really like to know who did it too," Clarke told her. "Don't drive yourself crazy trying to do the job for the cops. Take my advice and let them do their job, Sis."
Gracie made it through the funeral on Wednesday morning, but not without crying her eyes out. It was the first time she'd seen her father's body and she hadn't been sure she wanted to. Her mother had put her arm around her shoulders and guided her to the casket, telling her she needed to do this, to pay her last respects. It made the death real in a way nothing else could have, and she knew in her heart that later she'd be glad she'd done this.
The slideshow Clarke had put together was even harder to bear. It started with baby pictures and went from there, covering her dad's entire life. She'd laughed at some of the silly shots, then felt guilty for laughing. Everyone else had laughed too, so maybe that was OK. In spite of her tears she'd enjoyed seeing all the different times in Dad's life, including pictures of herself and her brothers. Clarke really did look a lot like Dad had when he was younger. The last picture had been taken at that party on Saturday. She found herself thinking she'd like to have that gaudy Hawaiian shirt, just to remind herself how much he'd enjoyed having the family together.
Justin had surprised everyone by showing up not only in a suit, but with a fresh haircut. Gracie almost didn't recognize him. In a quiet moment he'd admitted to her that he'd realized the long hair wasn't going to get Dad's attention now, but Mom would appreciate the gesture.
Gracie herself had consented to wear a dress, though dark purple was the best she could do. Mom had told her it would be OK to be herself, and better than buying a dress she'd wear only once. Mom had worn a tasteful navy suit. Aunt Jeanine had shown up in a pair of slacks that had once been black, and had smeared bright-red lipstick all over her face as she kept wiping the tears from her eyes.
Jennifer looked the textbook young widow, in a designer black dress complete with hat and veil. Surprisingly she wore only a little of her recovered jewelry. Cindy was there too, but she didn't sit with the family. No one would have guessed from their behavior that they were a couple.
They all went back to the house afterwards. Gracie felt a bit like she was in a fog; she couldn't decide if this was a party or what. She got reacquainted with relatives she hadn't seen since she was little and was delighted to discover a distant cousin equally committed to environmental issues. They exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses so they could stay in touch.
Everyone talked about Dad, but they only told the good stories. She was surprised to hear some of the things he'd done, things that she'd never have imagined; but it showed her he
did
have a good side and had definitely appreciated life. No one objected to her taking the Hawaiian shirt when she left; it swallowed her, but she slept in it that night. It still smelled of Dad's aftershave and she found that comforting.
They all assembled in Mr. Michaels' office on Thursday afternoon for the reading of the will. Jennifer had lost the veil but wore the same black dress. Cindy wasn't in evidence, apparently she'd had the grace to realize she had no business being there. Jennifer looked so lost and alone that Gracie made a point of sitting beside her and chatting.
Stan Michaels was a thin man, with a long narrow face and a thin nose. His short gray hair was neatly combed and he wore a very dapper dark suit. The word 'cadaverous' came to Gracie's mind, and she half expected him to speak in a proper British accent. For all his fussiness he came straight to the point.
Under the terms of the will Jennifer was to receive the sum of $250,000, and any personal property. Jennifer seemed a bit surprised at that, but Gracie couldn't tell if she'd thought she might get more, or less. She merely nodded her acceptance.
The house was to be sold and the proceeds added to the estate, which was to be divided equally among Clarke, Justin, and Gracie. Since Clarke was over 21 he could inherit in his own right; Clarissa had been appointed as guardian of Justin and Gracie's money. Of course the whole thing had to go through probate and that would take months, but at least things could be put into motion. Gracie had never had to worry about money, but she was stunned to learn how much she now had.
Jeanine was fidgeting, twisting her chair from side to side and chewing on her fake fingernails. The painted flower on her right index nail had been scraped to an unrecognizable blob. Mr. Michaels looked over his half-glasses at her as if he'd seen something disgusting on the sidewalk. Gracie held her breath. Jeanine looked pole-axed when she heard she received a single dollar. For a wonder she shut her mouth with a slight but audible pop, stood up and walked out of the conference room.
Clarissa inquired as to whether Bill received a bequest, but the answer was negative. Gracie was glad Bill wasn't there to hear that. Mr. Michaels told them he would begin the process of probating the will immediately, including an arrangement to continue upkeep of the house during that time. Clarke asked if he would be able to continue with college in the fall, and Mr. Michaels added that to the special request list but told him it shouldn't be a problem.
Outside the stuffy lawyer's office Clarissa suggested they all go for coffee and pie to discuss the situation. "Jennifer, why don't you call Cindy and have her meet us there?"
"Really?" Jennifer asked brightly. "I mean, that's really nice, you don't have to do that."
"Cindy has a stake in this too," Clarissa replied. "The situation is rather unconventional, but there's no point in pretending it doesn't exist. This is the time for the family to work together and make lemonade instead of sour faces."
"Guess I'm shit outta luck," Jeanine said sourly. "My inheritance won't even buy coffee."
"I'll buy your coffee, Aunt Jeanine," Gracie said. "And a big slice of your favorite pie, too."
"Chocolate Turtle Cheesecake," Jeanine said. "I need the sugar and caffeine after the shock I've just got. Ride with me, Gracie, we can talk on the way over."
It turned out the 'talk' Jeanine had in mind was to hit Gracie up for the funds to pursue her latest educational endeavor. Gracie was distinctly uncomfortable telling her no, and left it with a reminder that she didn't actually have the money yet.
At the restaurant everyone was quiet for awhile as they ate. Gracie had to admit that the sweet lemon meringue pie helped calm her down. She'd been through so much, and now all the fuss over the money. Her life had been irrevocably changed with the loss of her father, yet in some ways nothing had changed at all. She'd go back to school tomorrow, and had better study for that math test tonight if she hoped to pass it. The money didn't seem real to her, and anyway wouldn't make any difference in her life if she had it in her pocket right now.
Mom's life wouldn't change much either. Well, unless the specter of Candy's seduction caused a problem between her and Clay. It seemed to Gracie that if they'd only talk about it Mom might realize that Clay had just been trying to protect her. Clarke would finish college and get a job, though he might find it easier to go into a field Dad wouldn't have approved of. Aunt Jeanine would continue to blow every penny of her paycheck and whine about what she
didn't
have.
Justin, now,
he
might see some positive change in his life. He'd already gone to a counseling session; that was just a start, but he seemed motivated to work at dealing with his problems instead of self-medicating. From what little Gracie had seen of Zack during the last week he seemed to be content to continue following Justin's lead. At least they were both trying to follow a better path. Even Jennifer seemed more confident about her brains instead of her looks.
"Jennifer, I've been thinking," Clarissa pushed her empty plate away as she broke the silence. "It's going to take some time before Charles' estate gets through the probation process. We can't sell the house until that time, so I think you and Cindy should keep on living there."
"Thank you. I mean, I –
we
– really appreciate that," Jennifer said.
"Yes, thanks so much," Cindy chimed in. "I told Jen she could move into my rental with me, but we weren't sure how we'd get by."
"From a purely economic standpoint, the house shouldn't sit empty. Mr. Michaels said we can get funds for household expenses and I'm sure Charles wouldn't have wanted you to be thrown out, so this would be a win-win situation. Justin?"
Justin had left the jacket and tie in the car, but still looked uncomfortable in slacks and button-up shirt. "Huh?"
"Where do
you
want to stay?" his mother asked.
"Um, I hadn't really thought about it," he replied. He brushed absently at a lock of long hair no longer there, a habit he hadn't had time to break yet. "Couldn't I just stay at the house for awhile?"
"I don't see why not," Clarissa said, smiling. "You'll graduate in a couple of months, and we'll need to talk about what you want to do after high school. But this will give you a little breathing space, time to think and plan. Jennifer? Is that OK with you?"
Jennifer favored Justin with a sly sideways glance. "As long as he does his share of the chores! Summer's coming, could you, like, mow the lawn and keep the pool cleaned Justin? That would save some money on the household expenses."
"You could use it to work on your tan," Gracie put in. "You'll have better luck with the girls if you don't look like some cave-dwelling slug."
"Oh, like you get a lot of dates," he smarted off to his sister. "I don't really know how to do that stuff, Dad always hired it done. But, yeah, I could learn I guess. Maybe Bill could show me. It'd give me something to do."
"Is that a 'yes'?" Cindy asked, a grin on her face.
"Yes," Justin said. From the look on his face he was thinking he'd just agreed to a lifetime of hard labor.
* * * *
At lunch on Friday Chris and Kelly joined the group of girls at the cafeteria table. Gracie had bought an extra sweet-roll to celebrate passing her math exam; at least she thought she'd done well on it. They chatted and gossiped while they ate, then decided they'd go sit outside for a few minutes before they had to head back to class.
Kelly lagged behind the group and caught Gracie's eye when she turned to see where he was. Gracie dropped back to walk beside him.
"How about we go for a picnic tonight?" he asked her.
"A picnic? You mean, a date?"
Kelly blushed a bit, but nodded. "I thought maybe you'd like to get away from family for a little while. You know, with all that's happened. We could make up some sandwiches and go out to the campground the other side of town. Enjoy the fresh air, maybe go hiking on the trails. Nothin' fancy."
Gracie looked a little surprised, then smiled. "Yeah, that sounds nice. I didn't know you were interested in that kind of thing."
"My family's big on camping," Kelly replied. "We go all the time. I like to hike and swim, but Dad thinks I'm a wimp because I take an air mattress to sleep on."
"Can't blame you for that!" Gracie told him.
"I just thought you might like a little peace and quiet. We could go out for Chinese, if you'd rather."
"No, I'd like the picnic better. Thanks, Kelly. That's really sweet of you." Gracie flashed a big smile.
"Great! Pick you up about 6:00."
They arrived at the campground around 6:30. Gracie carried a plastic box full of sandwiches, chips, and fruit while Kelly lugged the ice chest from the trunk to the concrete picnic table. The sun was warm and a slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees, a perfect evening to be outside.
Kelly opened the ice chest to reveal he'd snuck a couple bottles of beer from the fridge at home. He'd brought soft drinks too, and made it clear to her that the beer was strictly optional. After a moment's thought Gracie declared the beer would be OK if they drank it with dinner so they'd have time for it to get out of their systems before Kelly drove home.
It felt a little daring to drink, Gracie felt a bit rebellious. That felt good too, but she was glad he'd only brought a beer each. She felt giddy enough after drinking not even half the bottle. They chatted as they ate and Kelly named several of the birds watching their feast, their heads cocked to the side so their beady eyes could better see where the crumbs fell. Gracie felt relaxed for the first time in what seemed ages. Kelly was turning out to be quite a pleasant companion, and thoughtful as well.