Murder at Breakfast (2 page)

The
only good thing I could see about the murder was that our investigation of it
would prohibit us from Wiiing. Well actually it wouldn’t prevent Lou from
Wiiing. He would continue to get up before God intended for him to rise or stay
up past his bedtime to Wii, but luckily I would be spared. It saddened me that
someone had to give his or her life in order for me to remain as motionless as
a murder investigation would allow, but I was hopeful that one of those people
who coveted a Wii last Christmas but was unable to find one would break into
Lou’s apartment and steal his Wii before we solved the case. That way our
victim would not have died in vain.   

+++

The
murder took place the first week in June, so, even after dinner, there was
enough light for us to find our way to the murder site. We arrived at Parkway
Arms Apartments and pulled ourselves from the car. I took my time, let my food
settle as best it could under the circumstances. I stood looking at the
three-story, red brick building that seemed to spread out over half a block.
From what I was told about the place, a few people spend a whole lot of money
to live there. As I thought about that, I refrained from looking at Lou. He can
read my mind most of the time, and at that moment my mind was telling me that
those people lived a lot higher on the hog than Lou did. His place didn’t offer
any of the amenities that this place did. Not that that would matter to Lou. As
long as Lou had a place to sit down and recline, a bookcase full of books, room
to put up a card table to work a jigsaw puzzle, a bed to sleep in at night, and
his Wii, he was happy.

Just
after midnight, we reached the front door. Well, maybe it didn’t take us from
still daylight until after midnight to get to the front door, but it was
certainly too late in the day to be gathering information to solve a murder. I
was about to ring the bell when someone celebrating Halloween much too early opened
the front door. Maybe she wasn’t celebrating Halloween, but she looked like she
would have been more comfortable if she wore a pointed hat and rode on a broom.
I made sure I was carrying no mirrors, and then listened to her greeting, such
as it was.

“I’m
sorry, but you’ve come at a bad time. Besides, we have no vacancies.”

“From
what I understand, you’re about to have one.”

“You
must be talking about the murder. Are you the press? The cops are already here,
and I don’t think they’d appreciate you meddling in things,” said the little
woman who must have known Methuselah.

“I’m
afraid we’re more cops.”

“Oh,
I didn’t realize they were hiring
your kind
these days.”

“My
kind?”

“I
think you refer to yourselves as a couple.”

“The
only kind of couple we are are homicide detectives, and I’m beginning to think
the murderer chose the wrong victim.”

“So,
what are you doing driving one of those things?”

I
wondered if the senile woman was making fun of Lightning, my canary yellow
Volkswagen bug.

“Just
lucky, I guess, although I would chalk it up more to intelligence.”

“Is
that your way of saying you lost a bet?”

I
wondered if I could send that woman on a long trip with my next door neighbor,
then uttered my comeback.

“So,
what was the victim doing when you scared him or her to death?”

“I
beg your pardon!”

“Just
in case we end up interrogating you later, and I’m sure we will, to whom am I
speaking?”

“
I
am Mrs. Richard Allnut.”

“Are
you sure your last name isn’t Humphert?”

Heloise
Humphert is my next-door neighbor whom I despise much more than anyone I’ve
ever met, until I arrived at Parkway Arms. This wacko had to be a relative of
hers.

“No,
it’s Allnut.”

“And
where is poor Richard?”

“My
husband is deceased.”

“Lucky
him. What happened? Did he die from a blunt instrument or keel over from a bad
heart just after getting his bandages off after cataract surgery?”

“Well,
I never.”

“I
didn’t figure you had. Just in case we get to know each other a little better,
what’s your first name?”

“If
it’s any of your business, my name is Hazel.”

“Well,
good to meet you Mrs. Hazelnut. Now, can you tell us how we can get to the
deceased before the body begins to smell up this place?”

“Mrs.
Higgins is on the second floor, apartment one. We have an elevator straight
ahead, or the stairs to the left. From the looks of the two of you, I’d say
you’d prefer the elevator. I doubt if you’ve had any exercise since gym class,
oh those long years ago. You’d better check the elevator weight limit before
you step on. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to the elevator.”

“And
you’d better avoid any mirrors. I wouldn’t want you to have seven years of bad
luck.”

With
that Lou and I stormed off to the elevator. I felt confident that it was strong
enough to hold us.  After  all,  Lou had been Wiiing, and was well on his way
to wasting away to nothing, and I had Wiied once, but luckily I was able to
keep my robust body intact. I didn’t arrive at my correct weight quickly, or by
accident. It took years of eating the right foods for me to chisel out this
body, and I didn't want to mess with perfection.

+++

The
elevator dinged and the door opened onto the second floor. I recognized the
officer who stood there to welcome us. Lou and I first encountered Officer Dan
Davis when he was a rookie on the force. Luckily he had improved since his
first blunder. Officer Davis had been a help to us on some of our murder cases.

“Hello,
Lieutenant, Sergeant. The victim’s in her apartment. Just turn right here and
turn again when you get to the end of the hall. She’s in apartment one.”

Sometimes
Lou and I are the first officers on a murder scene, sometimes not. We arrived
at the victim’s apartment just as our good friend, Frank Harris, the medical
examiner, was about to examine the corpse for the first time. An elderly woman
sat in a chair, slumped over what was left of a plateful of food at a table. It
looked like she had eaten over half of her meal before she slumped over into
what remained of her lunch or supper.

“I
haven’t touched anything yet, Cy. Take a look. I’m in no hurry. I don’t expect
any more bodies, not with my best customers standing in front of me.”

“Well,
Frank, I must say that Lou and I’ve done all we could over the years to help
you keep your job. So, what do you know about her?”

“Just
what Officer Davis told me. A woman named Margaret Draper, who is the manager
here at Parkway Arms, called to say that she was unable to reach one of her
residents, who was supposed  to be in her apartment. She said she tried her
key, but the chain latch kept the door from opening all the way. Officer Davis
received the call, came out, tried the key Mrs. Draper gave him, but had no
problem opening the door. The latch was not in place. Officer Davis entered and
found the victim as we see her now. The manager called in, said it’s company
policy to call the police any time anything out of the ordinary happens here.
Not that she thought the woman was murdered, but she wanted to be sure. As far
as I know, she didn't even know the  woman was dead. At least she didn’t know
anything for certain until Dan came in and found her. George has a couple of
guys here too, and he’s on his way to aid you in anything you need. It seems
like all your murders seem to take place in large places, or at least some
place where you need lots of help.”

“I’ve
always tried my best, Frank. I’ve gotten a memo out to all the potential
murderers in town, even recommended they commit their next murder in an
isolated phone booth, but, so far,  to no avail.”

“Cy,
only you wouldn’t know that the rest of the world has cell phones now. The two
of you are the only ones still behind the times. Murderers these days can’t
find an isolated phone booth. Maybe you need to find someone who’s in touch
with reality to help you with your next memo.”

“Frank,
I know that phone booths are becoming extinct. Now, let’s not stand here and
quibble until rigor’s come and gone. What can you tell me about her? And where
are all my suspects?”

“The
manager’s in her office downstairs. We’ve sequestered all the residents and
those who work here to their own apartments. Residential apartments are on this
floor and the one above on this end of the building. The manager’s office is on
the other end of the first floor. That’s also where those who work here live.
Well, a couple of them live on the other end of this floor. We have people
watching to see that no one leaves.”

“What
about the old biddy at the front door? Is she one of yours?”

“What
old biddy?”

“You
mean one of the inmates is escaping the asylum?”

“You
want me to ask Dan to go check?”

“Depends
on whether or not he’s had his shots. This one’s lethal.”

Lou
excused himself to inform Officer Davis to see to it that the woman in question
returned to her apartment. Frank continued with what information he had for me,
which was little. He had entered the apartment mere minutes before we did. He
had arrived and had been filled in by Officer Davis. Frank told me just enough
so that I would have some information before I talked to the manager.

While
Frank was still talking, Lou returned, told me that Officer Davis had gone to
check on the woman and report to us as soon as possible. I was almost certain I
would have to inform Officer Davis’ next of kin that he died in the line of
duty. A few minutes later, looking much the worse for wear, the young officer knocked
on the apartment door and Lou admitted him.

“After
hollering police brutality for five minutes, I got her to admit she lives next
door, in a house, the one on the corner.”

"You
mean she doesn't even live in this building, but still acts like she owns it?"

"Evidently.
She must have come in after Frank and I were upstairs."

“Did
you get her to prove that she lives in the house next door?”

“I
guess. I escorted her to the house she said she lives in.  And she inserted a
key in the lock, opened the door, and huffed off to retrieve her driver’s
license to prove who she is. After showing it to me, and proving who she was,
just before she slammed the door in my face she told me that she’s calling the
department to report us.”

“Did
she happen to mention Lou and me in her tirade?”

“Oh,
yes, she was quite explicit about you, wanted your name. You don’t mind that I
gave it to her, do you, Lieutenant?

“No,
but I do want you to go downstairs and guard the front door, and not let anyone
else in, unless it’s Lt. Michaelson or someone you know. If that
woman
comes back, shoot first and ask questions later.”

While
Frank examined the body, Lou and I donned gloves and took a tour of the
apartment. It was not as large as we originally thought, but quite elegant. It
was basically two rooms, both large, plus a bath. The living room had a couch,
several chairs, and a small dining room table where the victim was found. The
bedroom contained a queen-size bed, a chest, a dresser with a mirror, and a
walk-in closet. The bathroom had two doors, so that someone could enter from
the hall or the bedroom. On the front wall of the hall that led from the living
room to the bedroom was a dumbwaiter. I looked inside and found it empty. I
noticed something else next to the dumbwaiter, and upon inspection, found it to
be a laundry chute. I stuck my head in and couldn’t see the bottom. The windows
at the back of the living room provided a nice view of the expansive backyard,
and if someone was so inclined, he or she could step out onto the flat roof.
None of the windows were open. I checked them to see if any of them were
unlocked. One of them was. Lou and I checked the bedroom and bathroom and found
nothing out of place. No one had rummaged through drawers, nothing was
scattered as to let us know that someone had been looking for something. For
all we could tell, the maid had just left. It was obvious to both of us that
the apartment didn't come cheaply. Nothing in the place warranted calling the
police, except for the woman whose face we found in her food. We returned to
Frank to see what he could tell us.

“Well,
Cy, Lou, there are a few possibilities. She could’ve had a heart attack. She
might have choked. She could have ingested poison. I’ve been at this long
enough not to jump to conclusions. The guys will be here in a minute to bag her
food and any other food we find in the apartment, and to dust for prints.
They’ll also check the food in the kitchen downstairs.”

“I
know you’ll want to take some pictures, but after that, feel free to take her
whenever you want, Frank. As soon as the SOC team gets here, Lou and I will
excuse ourselves and go talk to the manager. You say she’s the one who found
her?”

“As
far as we know, Officer Davis was the one who found her. I’m not sure if she’s
the one who said she came up and tried to raise the woman, or if she sent
someone, but she can fill you in, and make everyone else available to you.”

+++

Lou
and I used the elevator to our advantage, arrived on the first floor to find
Officer Davis comfortable in an easy chair located just a few feet from the
front door. No little old ladies were storming the blockade. I ambled over to
him, found out the manager’s name was Margaret Draper, and Officer Davis
pointed our way to her office. We ambled over. I knocked and we were invited
inside. The office was not large and impressive, but not a cubbyhole. either,
and there was a second door that led out into the hall, and a third door behind
her desk. Still, the room could only seat three people comfortably. The woman
behind the desk looked like she had been hard at work, or would like to be.

“Miss
Draper, I presume.”

“That’s
right.”

The
woman, who looked to be in her mid-fifties, arose from the chair behind her
desk, held her hand out, and invited us to sit. She was slender, but not
skinny, had brown hair with a little gray creeping in, neither attractive nor
ugly. She was above average in height. I introduced Lou and myself and began my
questioning.

“Miss
Draper, I understand that you’re the manager at Parkway Arms. What does your
job include?”

“I’m
in charge of all aspects of the business, except for decisions made by the
owners. I live on the premises; interview all prospective residents if an
apartment becomes available, hire the cook, the maids, the building superintendent.
I see that everyone does his or her job properly, and that all of our residents
are happy. I take care of the books; see that the bills are paid. It’s a
full-time job, but one I enjoy.”

“How
long have you been here?”

“Twelve
years.”

“And
how many residents do you have?”

“We
have eight apartments. They are all full. At least they were until today,
although a couple of our residents are away visiting their children.”

“I’ll
have you give me a list of the residents in a minute, but first tell me about
your employees. How many people work here, and what does each one do?”

“Counting
myself, there are five employees. Martha Carpenter is our cook. She’s been with
me for eight years now. Delightful cook. She does the impossible. Everyone
loves her food, and you and I both know that it is hard to please everyone.

“Wally
Gentry is our building supervisor. Wally takes care of the grounds, which as
you can see is quite a job in warmer weather. We have an acre and a half here.
Plus Wally does any of the heavy lifting that needs to be done, any repairs,
and runs most of our errands. For the most part, Wally is the only one who
leaves the premises in a working capacity, except for me, when I go to the
bank, or have some other important duty that requires that I leave. Wally’s
been here two years. He’s the only male on the staff.  One of our residents is
a man, so we have two males on the premises.

“Other
than that, we have two maids. Margie Washburn is the older of the two and has
been with us the longest. She’s been here going on six years now. Ginny Adams is our other maid. She’s been here for a little over a year.”

“Is
there any difference in what the two maids do?”

“Not
really, except that Margie keeps the second floor clean  and  Ginny  is 
responsible  for  the third floor. Both take care of the first floor.
Sometimes, they team up and do something together, but other times, they ask
Wally to give them a hand with something. It depends upon what they are doing.”

“And
would you say that you’ve been pleased with each of your employees?”

“I’ve
never had a complaint about any of them, or from any of them about another
employee, or a resident that expects too much. Oh, some are easier to work with
than others, and when I say that, I’m talking about both the staff and the
residents.”

“And
what about work schedules? I assume that not everyone works the same hours. Are
they expected to be here at all times, or do they have time off?”

“Martha
works six days a week. Her duties are to provide three meals a day Monday
through Saturday. What she does with her time, other than that, is up to her.
In other words, she has no set schedule except mealtime. Residents eat
breakfast from 7:00-8:00, lunch from 11:30-12:30, and dinner from 5:30-6:30. They can come whenever they like, but they are expected to be through eating at
the end of that time. Then it’s time for the staff to eat, but the staff
receives only thirty minutes to eat. The staff eats breakfast from 8:15-8:45, lunch from 12:45-1:15, and dinner from 6:45-7:15. With all of us being on the
premises and the food ready at the time our mealtime begins, that’s not a
problem. However, we are more flexible at lunch, as long as the staff takes no
longer than thirty minutes to eat. If someone is a little late to lunch,
because of work he or she is doing, that’s okay. Martha has no problem with
that.

“The
maids start work at 9:00 and work five-and-a-half days a week. They work until
they get through each day, but they must come to me when they’re through so
that I can inspect their work. We seldom have any problems with that. They
perform some of their duties each day, some once a week, a month, or a quarter.
Both of them are responsible for cleaning the four apartments on their floor
once a week.

“And,
of course, Wally does a little bit of everything. When there’s nothing for him
to do, he can relax in his apartment or out back if the weather permits. The
same is true for the rest of the staff. If none of the residents are using the
facilities, like the lounge area, the staff is permitted to use them. The same
is true of our library, but if a resident comes in, any member of the staff is
expected to take his or her books elsewhere. We also have a room with two
computers that are for any of the staff to use for personal pleasure, but no
more than one hour at a time if someone is waiting.”