The Merchant of Menace (10 page)

Ann and Charles, the morning anchors who could have passed for Barbie and Ken, looked suitably solemn for a few seconds, then Ann smiled and launched into a piece on local children's activities during the holidays that harried moms and dads could take the kids to. Jane turned off the television and went to the front window.

Ginger had divested herself of her microphone and was heading for Jane's front door. Jane opened it for her and invited her in. "I just saw you on the news," Jane said, leading the way back to the kitchen. "You looked great and sounded very polished." She got down a fresh cup and poured coffee for Ginger.

“I hope I didn't flub anything," Ginger said. "Do you know anything more that you weren't saying?" Jane asked bluntly.

“No, not really. But I've been at enough crime scenes to know what one looks like. I'm sure the police are considering it a murder."

“And you believe it was?”

Ginger nodded. "You can't go through life making people miserable without somebody fighting back eventually. I suppose it could have just been a tussle and Lance slipped, but I don't think most people would choose a snow-covered roof to stage a fistfight."

“Ginger, I hate to point out the obvious, but at least one person has already benefitted from Lance King's death."

“You mean me. I know. Makes me look suspicious, doesn't it?" she said almost cheerfully. "But I never left your house. I stayed inside chatting with people. You have awfully nice neighbors, you know.”

Jane shook her head. "You helped the other people with the crew take the equipment outside to set up.”

Ginger didn't seem the least alarmed by this semi-accusation. "Oh, yeah. That's right. But I was with all the guys the whole time. Say, you don't really think—"

“No, I don't think you killed him. Although how you resisted the urge is beyond me. I'm just thinking out loud.”

Ginger was sitting where she could see the driveway. "Oh, a little red MG just drove in. Neat car."

“That's Detective VanDyne. And I'd be grateful if you'd let him in while I pull myself together.”

Jane raced upstairs to dress and fling a comb through her hair. She could hear the shower running in the kids' bathroom and a quick peek in their rooms revealed that they were all still asleep so it must be Addie. It was another overcast day and her bedroom looked dreary. She opened the curtains to let what little sun there was come in and stared for a moment at the Johnsons' house next door. The ladder was still in place at the back and there were two men in the backyard. They drifted in and out of viewand she couldn't tell what they were doing, but suspected they might be trying to fingerprint the ladder. She couldn't see the roof itself from her angle.

When she got downstairs again, Shelley was there and Mel appeared to be dismissing Ginger, who didn't want to be dismissed.

“Look, you're a witness and acquainted with the dead man," he explained. "As such, I need to know your movements and impressions. But you're also a reporter and you don't have any right to listen in on other people's reports. You should know the system. We'll tell you all we can without jeopardizing our investigation."

“Okay, okay," Ginger said grudgingly. "But it doesn't hurt to try, does it?”

She gathered up her coat, set her coffee cup in the sink, and left.

“What an irritating woman," Mel groused. "Oh? I sort of like her," Jane said.

“Do you think she's truthful?"

“I don't know her well enough to guess. What were you asking her about?"

“Her movements and Lance King's work habits."

“Hard to think of what he did as work," Shelley put in. "What did she say?”

Mel got up and poured himself some coffee. "She says he was very secretive about what he was investigating. She now remembers that he kept all his notes on computer disks, never put anything on the hard drive at his office or on his laptop. I wish she'd remembered that sooner. There were no documents on the laptop. Only his bookkeeping and some games."

“Games?" Jane asked. "He's the last person in the world I'd have expected to play any kind of games.”

Mel ignored this observation. "I have a man checking his office computer, but it sounds like he's going to come up empty, too, if Ginger's right. She says he always kept his current disk on his person, but he didn't have it when he was found in the Johnsons' front yard."

“Somebody stole it?" Jane asked.

“Maybe," Mel said. "Or forced him to hand it over before pushing him off the roof."

“So whatever he was threatening to reveal about somebody is gone," Jane said. "I can't say I'm exactly sorry to hear that.”

Shelley said, "But that means it's in someone else's hands. Someone who is capable of killing another person. Maybe somebody who's unethical enough to use the information King had on other people.”

“Jane, get a large sheet
of paper, would you?" Mel asked. "I need you and Shelley to map out this block.”

The only big sheet of paper Jane could find was the back of a piece of Christmas wrapping. "So you want a box for each house?" she asked, already sketching out squares.

“Number them, if you can," Mel said. "Ooh," Shelley said. "We're doing police work on Santa wrapping.”

Mel glared at her. "Not exactly," he said. "Just helping me get my bearings.”

Jane had completed her boxes. "Mel, this one's vacant. The owners were transferred to Seattle before it sold." She put an X in the box and glanced at him.

He just nodded, still cranky about Shelley's remark.

Jane went on. "There are three older couples who couldn't come because they were going to be out of town visiting their children and grandchildren over the holidays."

“You're sure they were actually gone?" Mel asked.

“No, maybe not, but that's what they told me. I suppose it's possible they just made that up as an excuse, but it's not likely. The people in this house had tickets for the family to go to a musical last night," she said, entering another X. "And this one belongs to a couple of revoltingly fit yuppies who are spending the holidays in Bermuda. This one is Mrs. Eldridge, who was committed to have her bridge club at her house last night. I think those are most of the 'regrets' I got."

“Okay, now let's talk about who
did
come to the party and when."

“Well, the Johnsons, of course."

“The hillbillies next door?" Mel asked. "Were they here between eight-thirty and nine-thirty?”

“Why the times?"

“At eight-thirty I was watching Todd walk the little girl home," Mel said. "I looked at the Johnsons' decorations. No sign of a dead Santa and I'm sure I'd have noticed if there had been a struggle going on up on the roof."

“And at nine-thirty Julie discovered him," Jane added. "I see. I think the Johnsons were here the whole time. Billy Joe couldn't even walk through the house in his snowman costume without knocking things down. I can't imagine how he could have climbed a ladder in that outfit."

“Unless he removed it," Shelley said.

“Looked to me like it would have taken a helper to get him in and out of it," Jane said. "Didn't it button up the back? I think he and Tiffany were just too obvious to have sneaked out without being noticed."

“Why were they in costumes?" Mel asked. Jane shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe wherever they're from, a party always means a costume party. They obviously have a touch of exhibitionism about them, too, as you can tell from the house decorations."

“Okay, let's go house by house on the rest. Start at the corner."

“That's a couple with little kids who were, fortunately, at their grandparents' for the night or they might have brought them along. Terrors, those kids," Jane added. "One of them was actually kicked out of kindergarten for—"

“Jane!" Mel said sharply. "I don't care what the kid did in kindergarten. Were the couple here during the relevant time?"

“Yes, she was part of the crowd watching the movie. She has a real shrill laugh that I kept hearing. And he was in the basement with the guys.”

Mel was taking notes. "Names?" he asked, and wrote down her reply. "Your basement doesn't have an outside entrance, does it?”

Jane shook her head. "You've seen my basement, Mel. No outside exit. Shelley, who were the other guys in the basement?”

Shelley reeled off a couple names, which Mel wrote down along with the rest of the movie-watching crowd. Jane marked off the book rep who'd been gossiping with Mel's mother, a single mother who brought along her new baby and wouldn't even let anyone else hold it, and a skier with a broken leg and crutches. They'd accounted for about three-quarters of the people on the block.

Mel ran his hand through his hair. "We'll have to confirm all of them, but at least I know who's at the bottom of the priority list. Now, what about the others? Whose house is this empty box?"

“Oh, that's our Julie Newton. The dim bulb who caused all this," Jane said.

“You know where Julie was during that hour?"

“Up in my bedroom calling security people," Jane said, embarrassed now by that loony idea.

“Your bedroom overlooks the Johnson' house, doesn't it?" Mel said.

“Yes, I could see the top of the ladder poking up— Mel, you don't suspect Julie, do you?"

“Jane, my job is to suspect everyone. Do you know she was there? Could she have seen Lance King climbing the ladder?"

“I–I guess so. And she told me she couldn't get any security people to come out. I have no way of knowing if she actually called anyone or not. But Julie's such a flake!"

“Flakes have been known to kill people," Mel said. "I want to check out your bedroom window.”

The three of them traipsed upstairs.

“Pretty good view in the daylight," Mel said, gazing toward the Johnson house. "And at night, with all the decorations lit up — there aren't any in the backyard, though. Is there a floodlight in back?”

Jane nodded. "My bedroom is lit up like a carnival at night from that window.”

There was a light tap on the door and Addie walked in. "Oh," she said with mock surprise — which she didn't do very well. "I didn't know Mel was here," she said.

“And so am I, Mrs. VanDyne," Shelley said, coming out of Jane's bathroom where she'd been checking out the view from another window. Her grin was wicked.

Jane almost laughed. Addie must have heard them come upstairs and was checking out just what Mel was doing in Jane's bedroom in the middle of the morning.

Mel, of course, didn't get it. "Oh, hi, Mom. I thought you were sleeping in.”

She laughed patronizingly. "You know I never sleep late. I'm so used to being up early to work.”

Was that a dig at me?
Jane wondered.
Or am I looking for digs?

Shelley, Mel, and Addie went back downstairs and Jane stayed behind to bang on the kids' bedroom doors, alerting them that it was time to get up. If she let them start sleeping late this early in the vacation, they'd be staying up all night and keeping her awake.

When she rejoined the others in the kitchen, Mel and Shelley were sitting across from each other at the table, not speaking. It was a vaguely ominous silence.

“Mel's asking about Bruce Pargeter," Shelley said.

“Oh," Jane said, remembering the horrifying story of the sinkhole that he'd told them. She quickly weighed her options. Bruce hadn't sworn them to secrecy, nor would she have kept a secret that might have unraveled a murder. On the other hand, Bruce had implied that his family's story wasn't something he wanted spread around and she didn't want to spill it in front of Addie. It simply wasn't any of her business. Or anybody else's unless it was relevant to Mel's investigation.

She took a deep breath and said, "Mel, Bruce told us something about an experience he had with Lance King. I'm sure he'll tell you if you ask him. But I don't think Shelley and I have any right to blab about it unless he refuses to talk to you.”

Addie, who was pouring herself a cup of coffee, spoke up. "Jane, my son is a detective investigating a serious crime — the murder of a man who had been in your house only a few minutes before his death. You haven't any right to withhold information from him.”

Jane felt a violent flush crawling up her neck and heard Shelley's sharp intake of breath. But Mel saved them.

“Mom, Jane is being honorable. As she always is. Which is one of the many reasons I love her.”

Jane started to get teary. Addie, however, gasped and turned pale at the word "love." She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut, set her coffee cup down with exaggerated care, and marched out of the room and upstairs.

“She didn't know?" Shelley asked.

“I don't know how she couldn't," Mel said, confused by his mother's storm of emotion, repressed as it was.

Shelley mouthed, "Men!" and Jane smiled. Mel wasn't fretting about his mother. He'd gone back to their map of the block. "Who's here? Oh, the little girl. What's her name?”

“Pet. Patricia Dwyer," Jane said.

“Why weren't her parents here? Or did they leave earlier?"

“Her father's a widower. Does something with computers and was working under a deadline, I guess. He didn't bother to respond to my invitation. Just didn't show up."

“She wasn't going home to an empty house, was she?" Mel asked, alarmed.

“No, she said he was working at home. I don't know if he has an office outside his house or not. He's terribly careful of her. That's why she has to be walked home after dark with an adult watching. And she can't accept rides. He even does those braids she wears. He's going to have a rough time when her hormones and independence kick in. He must be a good dad, but he's not much of a neighbor."

“I think maybe he's just awfully shy," Shelley said. "Sometimes shy people seem arrogant and aloof when they're really not."