Murder at the High School Reunion (15 page)

Read Murder at the High School Reunion Online

Authors: Steve Demaree

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Humor & Satire, #Humorous, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Cozy, #Culinary, #General Humor

BOOK: Murder at the High School Reunion
8.51Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

I’d learned what I wanted to know from Rose Ellen
Calvert, so I thanked her, and Lou and I turned to leave, but before I’d taken
a step, she interrupted our departure.

“Lieutenant, can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead, Miss Calvert. I’ll answer it if I can.”

“Well, this is the second time you’ve been here, and
he hasn’t opened his mouth yet. Can he talk?”

I turned to Lou and used hand signals. When I quit, he
signaled me back.

“What did he say?”

“He said he can talk, but he’s not to open his mouth
until I mess up. So far, I’ve done everything right.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Anything else, Miss Calvert?”

“No, I guess not.”

 

+++

 

Lou and I managed to keep a straight face until we’d
pulled away from Miss Calvert’s house. Then, we both burst into laughter.

“Cy, in case you want to know, the reason I talk more
when we’re not interrogating our suspects is that you mess up a lot when you’re
not working so hard.”

“Watch it, Lou, or I’ll mess up your face.”

“I’m sorry, oh Exalted One.”

Chapter Twenty-One

 

 

I left Rose Ellen Calvert knowing that if I ever have
an overdue library book, I’m in big trouble. I wasn’t her warm fuzzy of the
day, but then I hope no one ever refers to me as a warm fuzzy. Since Jim Bob
Gibbons’ house in the country was a few miles from Calvert’s, I turned to Lou
to see what he had to say.

“Well, Lou, how does she grab you?”

“Well, so far she hasn’t, Cy. I’ve just been sitting
here wondering if it would be worth $8,000,000 to let her.”

“Money talks, huh, Lou?”

“Well, I could buy a lot of books with $8,000,000.”

“But then you’d be stuck with her.”

“Who said anything about being stuck with her? If she
grabbed me, I could sue her for the $8,000,000.”

I laughed.

“Okay, Tonto, what do you think about what she had to
say? Do you believe her?”

“I’m not sure I believe any of them.”

“I’m not sure I do, either. It’s just a matter of
weeding through all this information and figuring out which one did it.”

“Or which two or three.”

I was beginning to think we could solve the case more
quickly if we stayed home and rotated between Googling and Wiiing. Maybe that’s
what we’ll do on our next case. Sort of a modern day Nero Wolfe with Sam as our
Archie Goodwin.

 

+++

 

We arrived at Gibbons’ place and saw his truck in the
driveway. I contemplated whether to knock at the front door or try the back
“patio” first. Gibbons decided that for me when we slammed Lightning’s doors
and he hollered, “I’m ’round back.” We rounded the corner of the house and
spotted Gibbons sprawled out, holding a bottle of water. While the patio was in
the shade and it was late in the day, it was still late July, so Lou and I
didn’t turn Gibbons down when he asked us if we wanted a bottle of water. We
nodded and he reached into the cooler beside him and tossed us a couple.

“Let me guess, Lieutenant. You ’eard ’bout the will
and thought it might make a good motive. Well, let me tell you right off. I
didn’t know nothin’ about that will ’til the lawyer called me last night. I
still didn’t know ’ow much ’e’d left me until we got there this mornin’ and the
lawyer read the will.”

“What about Miss Calvert? Do you think she was
surprised?”

“I don’t know, but I sure was. I never ’spected Jimmy
to leave that broad anythang, but then when the lawyer read the reason, it was
’ard to keep from laughin’ out loud. That was just like Jimmy.”

“I was planning on asking you about that, but I want
to know something else, too. I can’t help but notice that you limp when you
walk. How did that happen?”

“’untin’ accident, when I was in school.”

“What kind of hunting accident?”

“The usual kind, with a gun.”

“Do you usually go hunting at night, Mr. Gibbons?”

“It took a while to get to the ’ospital.”

“According to the hospital records, it happened not
long before you got to the hospital, which would make it at night.”

“Well, I meant ’untin’ in the sense it ’appened with a
rifle.”

“And did you do it yourself?”

“More or less.”

“And you’d been drinking at the time?”

“That’s right! Guns and alcohol don’t mix.”

“Just like driving and alcohol don’t mix.”

“That’s right.”

“And did you drive yourself to the hospital?”

“It ’urt too much, and I was bleedin’. A friend drove
me.”

“And the friend was?”

“Some guy I went to ’igh school with.”

“Mr. Gibbons, why don’t we quit beating around the
bush? Jimmy Conkwright was seen dropping you off at the hospital.”

“Well, if you already knowed, why’d you ask?”

“I wanted to see if you’d pass the test of telling the
truth. You didn’t.”

“I didn’t lie. I said it was a friend.”

“But did you say that it was your friend who shot
you?”

“’e didn’t.”

“Even back then, doctors were pretty smart. The report
says that from the angle the bullet went in that there was no way it could have
been self inflicted.”

“I was just tryin’ to protect a friend. I didn’t want
to get ’im in trouble. ’e’d been drinkin’, too, and ’e didn’t do it on
purpose.”

“But he could have gotten in trouble if it came out
that he did it. I guess that’s what the $2,500 was for.”

“I won that money bettin’ on the ’orses.”

“Wow, underage drinking, underage betting. What else
did you do?”

“That was pretty much it.”

“You know, Mr. Gibbons, you’re probably the first
person who has won exactly $2,500 a month every month for twenty years.”

“Well, that’s money I got for workin’.”

“Working at what, Mr. Gibbons?”

“This and that.”

“And you were doing that work for Jimmy’s father?”

“That’s right.”

“Mr. Gibbons, I bet there are times when your knee
really hurts.”

“Most of the time.”

“Have you ever resented Jimmy Conkwright because he
shot you? You know, $2,500 a month isn’t that much when you’re in pain all the
time.”

“And sometimes I have ’spenses out of that money,
’cause I need some pain medication or somethin’.”

“So, tell me, Mr. Gibbons, was Jimmy really a friend,
or did you just hang out with him for the money?”

“’e was okay most of the time.”

“But some of the time he wasn’t. Is that why you
killed him?”

“I didn’t kill him!”

That wasn’t the answer I had hoped for. I was hoping
he’d say something like, “I didn’t lock him in no freezer.” My trick didn’t
work.

“No, I suppose you didn’t, unless you knew about the
money you’d get if you did kill him and get away with it. A man can do a lot
more with $1,000,000 than he can with $2,500 a month.”

“I’m about to find out. I’m tryin’ to ’cide whether or
not to quit my job. A million might last me the resta my life if I don’t do
nothin’ stupid.”

“Like murder someone.”

He was starting to protest, but I waved my hand.

“Okay, so you didn’t kill Jimmy. Who do you think did?
It had to be someone who was at the school that night.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout that. All of ’em hated
Jimmy. Still, I can’t see any of ’em being a murderer.”

“Let’s talk a little bit about that night. Some people
say they saw you coming out of the kitchen. Did you see anyone in the kitchen
or anywhere else other than the hall and the cafeteria after Conkwright and
Mrs. Spencer were shoved out the front door?”

“First of all, let me tell you I didn’t go in no
kitchen, ’cept far enough to look in and see if Jimmy was in there. ’e wasn’t,
so I left right away. And yeah, I did see a coupla other people in the kitchen,
Rose Ellen Calvert and Duck.”

“Together?”

“Naw! You kiddin’?”

“And did you see both of them in there after the
victims left drunk?”

He smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just have trouble thinkin’ of eithera those two as
victims.”

“I thought one of them was your friend.”

“’e was, but he ain’t never been no victim.”

“He was that night. Anyway, answer the question.”

“I forget what it was.”

“When did you see Rose Ellen Calvert and Duck Spencer
in the kitchen, before or after the two…dead people disappeared?”

“I think she was in there both times. Duck didn’t get
thare until after they disappeared.”

“And did they see that you saw them?”

“That stuck up woman did.”

“And how did she react?”

“Embarrassed.”

“You have anything else for us, Mr. Gibbons?”

“I can’t thank of nothin’.”

“Well, let me know if you do. We’ll be in touch.”

Gibbons knee must have acted up as I added that last
sentence, because he looked in pain. Was there a reason that my words should
have bothered him?

 

+++

 

It looked like another late dinner. I turned to Lou to
see if he wanted to cook or go to Burkman’s for a steak. We opted for
Burkman’s. It was hard getting used to not eating out all the time. It was also
hard getting used to asking for a “to go” box, too. I thought of what we had
planned for the next day. We’d go talk to Duck Spencer, stop in on Conkwright’s
attorney, and then late that afternoon we’d see if we could locate some Van
Meters, just in case that girl’s death twenty years ago had anything to do with
the case. When I relayed this information to Lou, he agreed to keep his
leftovers at my house. We’d either eat them for lunch or dinner.

 

+++

 

Lou and I ate what most people call a sensible meal;
steak, baked potato, and a salad. The salad was the toughest part for me. Well,
other than the fact that both Lou and I turned down an offer of dessert. If
only we could lose weight on a sugar diet. I could’ve gone for something like
that years ago. Maybe I did. Maybe that’s the reason that my circumference was
second to that of the Earth. But back to the salad. Salad is bad enough on its
own, but I have trouble covering it with a minute amount of some see-through
dressing. I had no problem with steak or the potato. Before I began eating, I
cut both the steak and the potato in two, and asked for a to-go box. I think
our server had waited on us before, because she laughed. She thought I was
making a joke, until I assured her I was serious. I’m sure she had encountered
other people who’d done something similar, but in January, when some people had
not yet broken their New Year’s resolutions, not in July, after most of them
had long since forgotten they ever made any.

Lou and I refrained from talking about the case until
we were safely ensconced in Lightning. We kept no secrets from Lightning, just
from the rest of the world.

“So, Lou, did that steak enlighten you as to who might
be our murderer?”

“A little bit. I’ve narrowed it down to those who were
at the school that night, and I’ve eliminated two of those people.”

“Oh, which two?”

“Jimmy Conkwright and Betty Gail Spencer.”

I pulled over, rolled down the window, and dangled
Lou’s leftovers out the window. He merely smiled. I’d forgotten that losing
food no longer had an effect on Lou. So, I changed tactics.

“Lou, I’ve known for a long time that I’m the brains
of this outfit.”

“Is that why it takes us so long to solve a case?”

“No, it takes us so long because even the innocent lie
to us.”

“I think you’ve hit on something, Cy. Do you think we
just need to round up all of them?”

“Maybe eventually. For the time being we’ll just keep
plodding along. Can I assume that all your folderol means you have nothing
important to say?”

“I think my folderol is among the best in the county.”

 

+++

 

I started to head to Lou’s place, then he reminded me that
his car was at my house. I’d completely forgotten about the nightmare my
next-door neighbor had caused. I looked at my watch. It was 9:00. I wasn’t used to working so late. At least I didn’t have to go home and cook. Just toss a couple
of boxes in the refrigerator.

I drove down the street, looked and saw lights on in
the house next door. Could it be that the woman from another planet had
returned? I didn’t plan to go next door and knock in order to find out. I left
Lightning in her customary sleeping place, got out, and sniffed the air to see
if there was any sign of my next door neighbor. There wasn’t enough of a breeze
to answer my question. I bid Lou good night. He headed down the driveway to his
car, while I walked up to my back door and inserted my key.

Other books

Yesterday's Stardust by Becky Melby
Booty Call *69 by Gray, Erick
Modern American Memoirs by Annie Dillard
Sweet Laurel Falls by Raeanne Thayne
Falling to Pieces by Denise Grover Swank
The Apostles by Y. Blak Moore
The Hollow Needle by Maurice Leblanc