Take Stock in Murder (16 page)

“Yes, we do. Do you think he was referring to husbands of the investment ladies who might be jealous of his time with them?” Carrie asked.

“I don’t know, but I know buying that gun was the final straw in our relationship. The thought of Todd walking around with a gun in his pocket was too much for me. In addition to his drinking, Todd had a bit of a temper. It never lasted long, but for a few minutes, he could be very unreasonable. I was afraid of what could happen in those few minutes, especially if he started waving a gun around. Our relationship had pretty much deteriorated at this point, so I decided to end it. I guess I was right about that gun being trouble, but sometimes being right isn’t much of a comfort.”

For a moment the three sat quietly; then Carrie broke the silence. “The police haven’t found the murder weapon, which means the murderer must have taken the gun. But based on what you just told us, there’s a possibility Todd was killed with his own gun. Dawn, you have been a tremendous help, and I promise this is the last question. Can you provide any more details about this gun?”

“I can do better than that. Follow me.” Dawn rose from her chair and went over to a small elevator. She held the door for the couple, then pushed the button for the second floor. Once they reached the second floor, she went directly to the reference book section. She dragged over a small step stool and climbed up to reach one of the upper shelves, where she pulled out a small volume. “After Todd bought the gun, I wanted to validate what Mr. Hill had said.” She flipped to a page in the book and turned it around to face the couple. The couple looked at a black-and-white photo of a small handgun.

As Charles headed the car back to their farmhouse, Carrie sat holding a bookstore bag containing two mystery jigsaw puzzles and a historical book on guns.

“At least now we’ve a theory of how the gun plays into the murder,” she said. “Todd probably had it in his pocket. Charles, we’re very lucky that Todd didn’t draw the gun on you.” Carrie looked over at Charles, who was staring straight ahead and didn’t respond to her comment. “Charles, are you listening?”

“I’m listening. I’m just trying to think of what it means if Todd was killed with his own gun.”

“For one thing, it means his murder wasn’t premeditated but accidental. And Todd wasn’t killed while he was sleeping. He probably pulled the gun on someone, they struggled, and the gun went off. This would alter the police theory that the
murderer killed Todd while he was sleeping. He would have to be awake to pull the gun.”

“Correct! However, this creates more questions. Let me pull the car over. I need to think for a moment while everything is fresh.”

Charles guided the car into the parking lot at a county park. He took the farthest parking space from a crowd of mothers with kids and strollers heading for the playground.

Charles said, “If Todd pulled the gun on his murderer, you would think that words were exchanged. Remember what Dawn said about Todd’s temper. But no one heard a fight because…”

“Because there was some other noise that distracted everyone.” Carrie was now giving this great thought. “Maybe it’s a simple case of no one being around.”

“Maybe, but the other possibility is that our timing is all wrong. There was one other time in the evening when there was enough noise to cover an argument and when very few people would have been around the library. It was during the dance. Once the dancing starts, everyone goes to the ballroom, and the music is very loud,” Charles suggested.

“But that would mean Todd was killed shortly after we left, sometime between ten thirty p.m. and midnight.”

“Correct, but where was the body? Remember, Jake told me he saw you when you returned early in the morning and followed you into the library. He verified there was a blazing fire in the library, casting plenty of light, and Todd’s body wasn’t there. So it means the body was hidden somewhere else. If he was murdered earlier, that explains why the murderer was
there when you returned to the Club. He was there to move the body,” Charles said.

“It also means the murderer took advantage of my being there to plant the incriminating evidence against us. Oh, Charles, if only I’d waited until morning to get my bracelet.”

Charles reached over and put his arm around Carrie. “Don’t feel bad. Even if you hadn’t gone back, we still would have been implicated. The fight with Todd is what made us the suspects. And who knows? The murderer may have found your bracelet instead of your handbag. And if we’d arrived in the morning, we may have been the ones to discover the body.”

“Thank you, Charles. You always say the right things to make me feel better. So, do we go to the police about Todd’s gun purchase?”

“Good grief, no! If Todd’s gun was the murder weapon, none of the scenarios help our case. Scenario one is that Todd pulled the gun on us earlier in the evening. We knew he had a gun, so when we found him sleeping, we used his gun to kill him. Scenario two: I went back to have it out with Todd. He pulled out the gun. I got it away from him and shot him. However, I’ll call Simpson and let him know about the existence of the gun.”

“You still think we may need a lawyer?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to tell him about the progress we made today,” Charles said.

“Some progress. We know Todd owned a gun. We know Todd was killed with a gun, possibly his own gun, by someone before the dance was over, but will we ever find out who that person is?”

“Don’t worry, Carrie. We’ll find out. The murderer made a mistake when he or she tried to frame us. When you’re creating a false picture, you’re bound to make mistakes. That’s when we’ll catch the murderer.”

ooking back, Charles realized having dinner at the Club on Saturday two weeks after the murder probably wasn’t a good idea. But Carrie insisted they keep to their routine, especially after her conversation with Terry Conan.

It became obvious from the moment he and Carrie walked into the dining room that they were the center of attention. Word must have gotten out that Charles was the prime suspect in the murder.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Faraday.” William, the maître d’, decked out in a black tie, showed no surprise at the arrival of Carrie and Charles.

“Hello, William. Looks like a pretty full house tonight. Did the chef cook a blue-plate special?” Charles asked.

“Blue-plate special?” Carrie asked teasingly. Charles’s vocabulary always amazed her.

“Yes, darling. You know, a piece of meat and two vegetables with gravy all over for one cheap price.”

“Thank you, dear. I know what a blue-plate special is,” she responded as they walked toward their table.

“Even though we’re getting busy, I managed to keep your favorite table open,” William said as he pulled Carrie’s chair out for her. William seemed pleased they were there.

“Thank you, William. I’m glad our favorite table is in the corner. It looks a little like tourist season in the city,” Carrie commented.

“I think it’s…you know, all the excitement.” William almost whispered his response.

“Yes, you’re probably right, William. Nothing like a murder to bring everyone out of the woodwork,” Charles said.

William nodded and handed each of them the printed menu sheet for tonight’s selections. As he headed back to his position at the door, a table near the couple stopped William and slipped him a tip. Charles wondered if William was receiving tips to place people as close as possible to the couple’s regular table.

“Charles, is my slip showing, or did I forget to put my dress on? Everyone seems to be casually looking this way,” Carrie asked through her teeth.

Charles moved closer and took her hand. “You’re perfectly dressed.”

“Then what color underwear do I have on?”

“What?” Charles looked confused.

“I’m sure if you asked anyone in this room, they could tell you the color.”

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Well, I’m sure they’ll find your underwear as wonderful as I do. I’m sorry, Carrie. I was afraid something like this might happen once the girls found out I was the one who punched Todd.”

“I’ll have to make a point of thanking Terry Conan. She was the one who asked whether we were coming tonight. Apparently, she spread the word.”

In between looks at the menu, Carrie stole glances around the room. “There are people eating here tonight that I didn’t know were still members.”

“There are people eating here tonight that I didn’t know were still alive,” Charles added.

Carrie giggled aloud. “Charles, you better behave. I believe we’re the subject of everyone’s attention. Plus, as I look around, most of our suspects are here too.”

“Well then, let’s give them something to talk about. What are you ordering?”

“Oh, something light, maybe a salad.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Carrie looked surprised by the intensity of Charles’s voice. “If we’re going to sit here with all these fools staring at us, we’re going to have a splendid meal—unless you feel it’s too uncomfortable for you.”

Charles took her hand very gently under the table and squeezed it.

“I never feel uncomfortable when I’m with you,” Carrie said.

Charles signaled to the waiter that they were ready to order. “What do you think, darling? Chateaubriand for two, with vegetables?”

“Works for me, provided there’s a good wine to wash it down.”

Almost two hours later, after a leisurely dinner with dessert, Charles and Carrie were finished. Although they would have preferred to stay and watch, many of the original diners had been forced to give up their tables to the next seating. Even those in the second seating must have been disappointed when they found nothing more significant than a couple having dinner.

“A little more wine, dear?” Charles asked.

“Not unless you’re serving it with a bromide. I can’t believe we ate all that food!”

“Every time we eat here, I know why I belong to this Club. It’s the food. It really is excellent.” Charles made the statement after drinking the final drop of wine with the last forkful of dessert. “Do you think all these people are just curious, or do you think they really believe I’m a murderer?”

“Charles, stop talking that way. You’re not a murderer.” Carrie looked him straight in the eye. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Charles signaled the waiter for the ticket and signed the slip with his name and membership number. However, before the couple could leave, Joanne and Dan Quinn arrived in the dining room. The couple headed straight for Charles and Carrie.

“Hey, you two. I see you’re enjoying your Saturday night ritual.” Dan turned to the maître d’. “We’ll sit at this table.”

“I believe the Faradays have finished their meal, and we’ll want to get you a fresh cloth and setup,” William suggested.

“The Faradays are very neat eaters. I think this cloth is fine. Thank you, William,” Joanne added with a big smile.

“Very well.” William shrugged and left.

“Thanks for the compliment about our eating habits, but are you two sure you want to be seen with us? It could hurt your political chances at the Club,” Carrie said.

“There is nothing you two could do to damage my chances at the Club. I’m sure my name was removed long ago from the list for important positions,” Dan said.