Too Dead To Dance (11 page)

Megan put her hand over
Bernie’s hands folded in her lap. “Bernie, we need to know about
the argument you had with Wes. We found out about the trial and
that Wes went to jail, probably on your testimony. Tell us what
happened between you two. We want to help.”

Bernie sighed, crossed
herself and began talking. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t even
recognize him; he looks so much older. Prison must have aged him.
It surely did make him bitter.

“I was sitting in one of
the tents, watching a group of yodeling Bavarian singers. After the
performance, I got up to leave. Wes got up as I walked down the
center aisle and stood in front of me. ‘You lying bitch,” he hissed
at me. ‘If you had kept your big mouth shut I never would’ve gotten
locked up.’”

“Oh, Bernie,” I whispered.
“Why was he so angry with you?”

“A few years ago, I noticed
Wes pursuing a young girl after my weekly catechism class. She was
really young, only about fourteen. The third time I spotted him, I
told him to stop slinking around the girl or I would call the
police. He actually spit on my shoe! Then he said I should mind my
own business. I talked to the girl’s mother, but she didn’t believe
the girl was in any danger. She said that Wes was a family friend.
The stalking got worse with Wes camped out in front of this little
girl’s house. When notes started showing up in the girl’s locker at
school and hang-up phone calls at home, her mother finally called
the police. My testimony, along with scads of evidence convicted
him in a trial that lasted only two days.”

Megan said. “How awful for
you. Were you frightened?”

“Not then, he was in jail.
I didn’t know he was out until he accosted me today. You know, he
even blames me for the breakup of his marriage.”

“How could that be your
fault?” I asked.

“His wife, Martha came to
see Fr. Werner when Wes went to jail. Fr. Werner was out of town,
so Martha told me how abusive Wes had been. She didn’t know if she
should wait for him or not. I told her that her she should stay
away from Wes when he got out of jail, for her own safety. Of
course, I couldn’t advise Martha to get a divorce but I did talk to
her about a legal separation and told her about the shelter for
battered women she could go to if she felt unsafe. Apparently,
Martha chose to go the divorce route. She served Wes with divorce
papers a few months after he went to prison.”

By the time she finished
talking, Bernie had calmed down and granted she might need some
help. “I’ll pray about it and God will take care of
everything.”

“I’ll go make some tea,”
Megan said, escaping to the kitchen, probably before telling Bernie
that God helps those who help themselves. She’s not as devout as
Bernie is, but would never denigrate her beliefs.

I said, “I’m sure your
prayers will be answered, Bernie. But just to make sure, Megan and
I are determined to find the person responsible for killing Wes. We
want to make sure your good reputation is kept intact,” I said,
sending up my own prayer that we could make this promise come
true.

We told Bernie all we knew,
which was incredibly little but when we pointed out that there were
other suspects, she seemed to calm down.

“Bernie, you should also
know that Martha now goes by Marty and she’s living with
Edwin.”

“That’s who Edwin is living
with? She’s much too young for him. Oh, my, that must be awful for
you, Jennifer.” She patted my hand, thinking I needed comfort. I
was so touched by her kindness, I couldn’t reply.

Megan didn’t have any
trouble talking, though. “Bernie, we need to know who this girl is,
if we’re going to help you.”

Bernie refused to tell us
the name of the girl, even if it would put the suspicion on someone
else. Megan tried to convince her it could’ve been the girl or one
of her relatives who murdered Wes.

“You’ll have to find the
killer without that information, Jennifer. I promised the girl not
to tell anyone who she is, when Wes went to trial. If I refused to
tell Fr. Werner, you can’t expect me to tell you.”

On the way back to Primo
Gusto, Megan let me know that regardless of what Bernie said, we
needed to know more about this girl Wes had been
stalking.

“You’re right. Megan, I
think we can find it in Bernie’s office. She must have grade books
from her catechism classes. We need to figure out how to get access
to them.

“Jennifer! You can’t burgle
a church!”

“Of course not,” I said
grinning wickedly. “I just need a little glance at her attendance
records while she’s not in her office.”

“We are going to burn in
hell for this.”

“Maybe Megan, but Bernie
won’t go to jail. In the meantime I need to talk to Edwin about his
new little sweetie.”

Megan stared at me as if I
had told her I needed to discuss the theory of relativity with
Einstein. “Well, good luck with that.

11

When I called Edwin and
asked him to meet me he came up with one excuse after another.
Finally he agree to meet me at a coffee shop in forty-five minutes.
Why not a half hour or hour? I don’t know, that’s just Edwin’s
way.

I decided to use the time
to check out the next place on Laura’s list for the beer mug.
Bavaria Haus is located on the east side of town, in a residential
neighborhood. When I pulled up in front of the store, I noticed
that it looked as if the front porch of the house had been closed
in and shingled.

A sign on the door
requested that bus tours call in advance. The inside of the cramped
store was jam-packed with colorful items. Several shelves held
packages of German food. I picked up a red tin labeled Dresdner
Stollen. Next to it a blue box indicated it held Bergen Fish Soup
starter. I spied a coffee bag labeled Jacobs’ Kroenung Coffee. I
had to try this coffee to compare it to my own.

I picked up a green plastic
shopping basket and dropped the bag of coffee into it. I passed on
the chili flavored dark chocolate but grabbed two packages of
Liquor-Filled - Raspberry in Orange Liqueur cookies. Megan and I
would enjoy these.

The door opened and I heard
a man greet the proprietor. “Marta, Honey, how are you
today?”

I rounded the corner and
saw a lady behind the counter. Her copper-colored hair was pulled
into a sleek chignon at the nape of her neck. Al was standing in
front of the counter. I backed up and listened. “Oh, you
sweet-talker, you. Did you bring my order?”

“Sure did, darlin’. Is
there room in the cooler for it?”

“Yah, second shelf, please.
Here let me sign that.”

I peeked around the shelf I
was hiding behind and saw Al coming through a door at the back of
the store. He popped a white candy in his mouth and picked up the
paper from the counter. “See you next week, Marta
darling.”

“Oh, you,” she said, not
finishing the sentence. She gave him a little punch on the arm and
he turned and walked out.

“Can I help you find
anything, dear?”

I jumped, then straightened
up. It was obvious that I had been eavesdropping.

“I hope so,” I said,
ignoring the blush I could feel creeping up my neck and warming my
cheeks. Looking around the store, besides the food I saw German
greeting cards, candy and toys. One shelf held Hermann souvenirs. I
handed the picture of the Coca-Cola beer stein to her.

“Oh, this is lovely. But, I
don’t have room to carry these types of items. You might try
Zunker’s. They have lots of glassware.”

“Thanks. They were next on
my list. Oh, is that German licorice?” I picked up an envelope with
a picture of a cat on it labeled “Katjes Kinder.”

“Yes. Licorice cats.
They’re tasty if you like black licorice.”

Dropping it in my basket I
said, “Black is the only kind of licorice. The red stuff is just
chewy candy.”

Laughing, she replied, “I
agree. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I’d better quit before
I buy out the store.”

I stuffed the large bag of
groceries in the trunk and got back into my car. I popped a
licorice cat in my mouth and crossed Bavaria Haus off my list. I
was beginning to realize that this little favor was costing me
money as well as time.

I paced in front of the
counter of the Kaffee Haus, waiting for Edwin. My purse was heavy
with a five pound bag of coffee beans stuffed in it along with all
my other necessities. I glanced at my watch, 2:10 PM, Edwin’s
favorite control technique, making me wait for him.

It had been a major deal to
get him to meet with me. Cheap-o Edwin refused to pay the
six-dollar entrance fee to get onto the Fest Grounds. At first, he
thought I might be trying to get him to come back to me. Fat chance
of that, I had told him. When I said I wanted to discuss the
divorce settlement, he decided to come right away. Agreeing to meet
me at a coffee shop that did not buy their coffee from me was
another of his passive-aggressive procedures. I suppose he thought
I would cave into his outrageous demands to keep all our assets.
What a sap.

The top was down on his new
convertible when he pulled into the parking lot. I picked up my
iced vanilla latte and chocolate biscotti. Sitting down I tried to
look cool and distant. Hard to do when the sweat beads almost froze
to my forehead in the air-conditioned coffee shop.

Edwin sauntered in,
smoothing down his windblown hair. He by-passed the coffee counter
and stood over me. “I haven’t got much time so let’s get right to
it.”

What a pompous ass. I gave
him my best sarcastic smile and motioned to the chair across from
me. “Good to see you, too, Edwin. Please sit down.”

I took a sip of coffee and
almost spit it out. The licorice cat I had just eaten made the
coffee taste terrible. I took a bite of biscotti to take the
licorice taste from my mouth.

Edwin scraped the chair
away from the table and slapped down a manila file folder before he
took a seat. “I don’t have time for small talk, Jenny. I hope you
are finally ready to be reasonable about the
settlement.”

“Don’t call me Jenny.” My
automatic reply. “That attitude is not going to get me to sign a
paper giving away everything we’ve worked for over the
years.”

“Not everything. You can
have the bedroom furniture, your car and your little coffee
business. After all, I’m the one who worked for all the things I
own.”

“We own!” I pounded my fist
on the table. “I’m the one who worked to put you through Grad
school. You wouldn’t be a CPA if I hadn’t taught third grade to
support us. Besides, I’m the one who raised our two
children.”

“Like raising kids is such
a big deal.” As usual with Edwin, I shut up and let his sarcasm
roll over me.

I inhaled deeply and
answered. “I guess we’ll have to let the mediator help us work this
out next week, okay?”

“Fine. But what did you
want to meet for if you’re not going to sign these
papers?”

“I wanted to talk to you
about Marty. I think she may be in trouble.”

“Marty? What are you
talking about? Why don’t you keep your nose out of my business?”
Edwin often goes from perplexed to angry in two seconds flat. In
fact, Edwin can go from any emotion to anger in a flash. His
yelling is notorious among our friends and neighbors.

“Edwin, calm down and stop
yelling before we get thrown out. Haven’t you heard about the
murder?”

“Of course I heard about
it. This is Hermann. Everybody in this hick town heard about the
corpse you found sprawled across your coffee stand. So,
what?”

“To be precise, he was on
the floor next to my booth. Don’t you know who he was?”

“How would I know? I don’t
hang around with those kinds of people.”

I bit my tongue. I tried to
control my mouth. But alas, I could not help myself. I quipped,
“You mean dead people?”

Before he could blow up
again I added, “The man I found dead at the Fest Grounds was Wes
Fischer, your girlfriend’s ex-husband.”

After he finished
sputtering and became semi-reasonable again, I pumped him for
information. “Where were you two last night? Edwin, the police will
be questioning you. You need to remember the details.

“Marty and I are completely
innocent. She’d never kill someone and neither would I. You know me
well enough to know that, Jennifer.”

“I know, Edwin, but the
police don’t know you. They’ll want to know your
whereabouts.

“I was at home all night.
Marty was at the high school gym for her Jazzercise class. She got
home about eleven o’clock, which was later than usual. I’m sure she
stopped for coffee with friends after class. Although I’ve told her
time and again to come straight home.”

Since I didn’t know the
time of death, I was clueless as to whether or not Marty had an
alibi. This detecting stuff was harder than I had thought. I needed
more information. I needed to talk to Jacobs or Detective Decker.
It might be nice to see Decker again, I would have to think about
how to do that.