Touchy and Feely (Sissy Sawyer Mysteries) (11 page)

‘Oh, I see. You’re sure you won’t have any tea?’

‘Momma, you can’t put this off any longer. Jean and I, we could have said to ourselves, so what, if the silly old woman wants to spend Christmas all by herself, freezing her buns off in Connecticut, that’s her lookout. But we’re worried about you, Momma, and we want to take proper care of you.’

‘Yes,’ said Sissy. She could see Gerry smiling at her from the fireplace.
Oh Gerry, I’m so sorry that I betrayed you. And I was such a coward, I couldn’t tell you what I’d done, even when you were lying on your deathbed.

Trevor said, ‘Come with me today. Pack your bags and I’ll come back to collect you when I’ve finished at the office. You can stay with us in Danbury until the nineteenth, and then we’ll all fly off together.’

‘Do you really think you can put up with me that long? Me and my smoking and my fortune-telling?’

‘Momma, Jean and me have discussed this right down to the smallest detail. Jean is just as keen to have you come to Florida as I am. Listen, we’re exactly the same with Jean’s parents, Ned and Marilyn, we visit them regularly, we make sure they have everything they need. We believe that we have a duty.’

Sissy could see herself in the mirror at the end of the hall; and in the glass-framed pictures of Italy beside the living-room door; and reflected in the windows. So pale, so old. So many different Sissys.

‘My heart’s here, Trevor. This is where I always spend Christmas.’

‘Your heart has angina, Momma.’

‘It’s the cards, too. I know you’ll get angry. I know you won’t understand. But this morning a woman was shot dead up at Canaan and I believe that the cards predicted it.’

Trevor stared at her. His hair was still sticking up at the back. ‘For God’s sake, Momma, this doesn’t make
any
sense at all.’

‘The Headless Doll, that was the card that came up, and when the Headless Doll comes up it always means that a child is going to be orphaned. And that’s what happened.’

‘Momma, this is insanity! The cards are just cards, they only mean what you want them to mean! Look—we really don’t mind. If you don’t want to come to Florida, then don’t! But why not come straight out and say so, instead of making this ridiculous pretense that the cards are telling you not to?’

‘But they
are
! They’re trying to tell me that something dreadful is going to happen! Can’t you see? It’s already started, and it’s going to get ten times worse!’

‘All right!’ Trevor shouted. ‘All right! Supposing the cards
are
right! Supposing they really
can
predict what’s going to happen, and it’s going to be terrible! What do you think
you
can do about it? Hmh? Tell the police? Call up the National Guard? “I’m a sixty-seven-year-old widow and my cards tell me that something terrible is going to happen!” What do you think they’re going to say to that?’

Sissy went across to the coffee table, picked up her pack of Marlboro, took one out and defiantly lit it. She blew out smoke, and then she said, ‘You and Jean, you believe you have a duty. Well, I have a duty, too. I love you, Trevor, and you know I love Jean and little Jake. But the people around here, they’re going to need me in the next few weeks, and that’s why I have to stay. I feel it in my bones: there’s no other way of explaining it.’

Trevor looked around the room; at the clutter of pictures on the walls; at the antique chairs with their scatter-cushions; and the gaggle of occasional tables; and the old carpet-bag that Sissy kept her sewing in; and the week-old newspapers stacked beside the fireplace.

‘It’s all right,’ said Sissy. ‘You can throw this all away, when I die. I won’t be upset. But it’s my life, and I want to go on living it.’

Trevor puffed out his cheeks, and then he said, ‘OK, if that’s the way you want it. But I don’t understand you at all. It’s like—I don’t know. I just can’t follow the way you think.’

‘I
am
your real mother, if that’s what you’re getting at. I was there when you were born.’

‘Very funny, Momma. Look . . . if you change your mind before six o’clock today, give me a call, will you?’

He pulled on his balaclava and for a moment Sissy wanted so much to say to him, make sure you’ve got your lunch money and your clean handkerchief and don’t be home too late; but those days had long gone, and all the photograph albums in the world could never bring them back.

 

T
he wind began to rise, so that the snow in the Mitchelsons’ back yard was whipped up into little dancing fairies.

Jim came trudging up to the swing-set and leaned against the upright. His cheeks were bright red and there was a clear drip swinging on the end of his nose.

‘Well?’ said Steve. ‘What have you got?’

Jim took out a scrumpled-up bit of tissue and blew his nose. ‘I’d say that the shot was fired from a vehicle parked next to that New England Dairies trailer. Again, I’d say that it was probably a van or a station wagon, because the shot came from very low down.’

‘Any tire tracks?’

Jim shook his head, emphatically. ‘The surface is all rubble and broken brick, and there wasn’t sufficient snow covering for the vehicle to leave any kind of recoverable impression.’

‘So we’re only guessing that there
was
a vehicle?’

Trooper MacCormack gave a dry little cough. ‘Sure. But I’d say that given all the variables it’s a reasonable guess.’

Trooper MacCormack was a handsome, mature man with silver hair and a light winter sun-tan, and noticeably large ears. He was experienced, and he was efficient, and Steve had never seen a crime scene so meticulously cordoned off and protected. The only trouble was, Trooper MacCormack spoke in such a measured, expressionless drawl that Steve found it very hard to concentrate on what he was saying.

‘We’ve talked to seven different witnesses and none of them saw any individual on foot anywhere in this vicinity within the time-frame of Mrs Mitchelson’s shooting, nor did they notice any individual on that waste ground with or without a weapon of any description.’

Steve almost felt like saying ‘Amen.’ Instead, he looked around and asked, ‘Nobody saw a
vehicle
, either?’

‘Correct,’ agreed Trooper MacCormack. ‘But that doesn’t preclude the possibility that a vehicle was there. If you were approaching Canaan from the south, any vehicle parked in that location would have been shielded from your direct line of sight by that trailer; and if you were leaving Canaan it would have been mostly concealed behind that furniture store. You would have had to have turned your head to see it, even if it was there, and why would you.’

Steve took out a stick of Doublemint, made stiff by the cold, and folded it into his mouth. ‘If a panel van had been parked there, with one or both of its rear doors open, I think
I
would have noticed it.’

‘Yes, but with respect you’re a detective and you notice that kind of thing because you’ve been trained to. You would have said to yourself why does that panel van have its rear door open when there are no stores or warehouses nearby for goods to be loaded or unloaded. Your average individual goes around all day and wouldn’t notice if a pink gorilla walked past them. That’s a scientific proven observation.’

‘I’d still like to find one person who actually saw a van parked there. Just one.’

‘Well, we’re still appealing for witnesses, sir, and you never know.’

Doreen came out of the house and balanced along the narrow path that had been marked out with yellow tape by the crime scene unit. ‘Steve,’ she said. ‘Do you want to talk to Mr Mitchelson, and the little girl?’

‘Absolutely.’ He turned to Trooper MacCormack and said, ‘Excellent work, Trooper. You’ll keep me posted, right?’

‘You bet.’

Steve followed Doreen into the house. The kitchen was crowded with troopers and reporters and photographers, and the boarded floor was a mess of wet footprints. Steve elbowed his way through to the living room. A female trooper opened the door for him, and then closed it behind him.

The living room was chilly and very silent. It was decorated plainly, with magnolia walls and a polished oak floor, and brown leather furniture. A sulky fire was smoldering in the grate, giving off more smoke than heat. Randall Mitchelson was standing by the window wearing a thick blue woolen robe, his hands in his pockets. Juniper was sitting on the floor close to the fire, clutching a Bratz doll.

‘Mr Mitchelson? I’m Detective Steven Wintergreen, Western District Major Crime Squad.’

Randall turned around. ‘Hi. I won’t shake your hand. I have this appalling flu.’

Doreen hunkered down next to Juniper and said, ‘That’s a really cool dolly. What’s her name?’

‘Izzy,’ said Juniper.

Randall said, ‘Her aunt’s on her way here now. Ellen’s sister. She’s going to take care of her for now.’

‘We’ll need to talk to your little girl,’ Steve told him. ‘But we’ll have a specialist in child witness interviews . . . you know, somebody who won’t upset her.’

‘Upset her? She saw her mother shot dead, right in front of her eyes.’

‘But
you
didn’t see anything? Or hear anything?’

Randall blew his nose. ‘The first I knew about it was Juniper shouting at me.’

‘Mr Mitchelson . . . can you think of anybody who might have wanted to harm your wife, for any reason whatsoever?’

‘She was a wife, she was a mother. That was all.’

‘She hadn’t fallen out with anybody lately? She hadn’t been involved in any local politics, or any personal disputes?’

‘She was very critical of all the money that was being spent on restoring Union Station. She thought that it ought to be spent on other things, like play areas for kids, and traffic calming. But that was all. I can’t see anybody wanting to kill her for that.’

‘OK,’ said Steve, making a note. ‘And what about your personal relationship?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Were you and Ellen getting along OK?’

‘Of course. What are you trying to suggest?’

‘I’m not suggesting anything, sir. I simply have to ask you these routine questions.’

Randall stared at him in disbelief. ‘You think that
I
had her killed? She was my wife. She was the mother of my child. How can you think that
I
had her killed? How do you think that I’m ever going to find a woman like Ellen, ever again? Jesus.’

Steve waited for a moment while Randall blew his nose again. Then he said, ‘Financially, things are OK?’

‘Financially? What does that have to do with somebody shooting my wife?’

‘I mean, your business is OK? You don’t have too many outstanding debts?’

‘I don’t see the relevance.’

‘Can you please just answer the question, sir?’

‘All right, I have debts, but nothing too serious. Fifteen, twenty thousand dollars. I’m a freelance surveyor, I’ve been working on the Paugnut Mall at Torrington. I don’t get paid until the second stage is completed, but that’s not an insurmountable problem.’

‘Was your wife insured?’

Randall lowered his head and pressed his fingers against his forehead as if he were starting a migraine. Steve waited and said nothing, because he knew how enraged
he
would be, if somebody had asked him the same question.

Doreen said, ‘Did your mommy give you this doll?’

Juniper nodded, solemnly. ‘I’m going to buy her a black dress because of Mommy being shot.’

Eventually, Randall said, ‘The answer to your question, Detective, is yes, she was insured, but not for very much. And her value to me was far greater than all the money in the world. Now, I think I’d like you to leave.’

‘Just one more question, Mr Mitchelson, if you don’t mind. Do you know anybody who owns a panel van, or have you noticed a panel van anywhere around here in the past few weeks, parked, or driving especially slow?’

‘Most of my contractors run panel vans.’

‘OK . . . can you do me a favor, then, and draw up a list of all of your contractors, especially those you know for sure have panel vans?’

‘You don’t seriously believe that one of my contractors—?’

Steve put away his notebook. ‘Mr Mitchelson, I don’t seriously believe anything at the moment. There appears to be no motive for your wife’s death, and so far we have no suspects. I have to assume that anybody and everybody might have done it.’

Randall gave him a bunged-up nod. ‘Yes. I understand. I’m sorry. It hasn’t really sunk in yet. I keep expecting to hear her singing in the kitchen. She couldn’t sing, you know. Couldn’t hold a tune.’

Steve said, ‘Sure. I’ll talk to you later. And I’ll let you know if there are any developments. If you can just work on that list.’

Juniper said, ‘I put drops of water on Izzy’s face, for tears.’

 

S
erenity paid for Feely’s coffee and his uneaten pancakes, even though he insisted over and over that he had enough money. ‘Forget it,’ said Serenity. ‘You’re going to need every cent for going north, aren’t you? Supposing you need to make a down-payment on an igloo?’

‘You don’t really believe that my intentions are serious, do you?’ asked Feely, as they walked across the slushy parking lot.

‘Of course I do. I think you’re wonderful. It’s so refreshing to meet somebody who can just say, “That’s it, I’ve had it up to my neck with this,”’ and simply put their shoes on and walk out the door. It’s so
hopeful
.’

She reached a bright orange Volkswagen Beetle, and unlocked it. ‘Come on, hop in.’

Feely climbed into the passenger seat, carefully laying his cardboard folder on the floor.

‘What’s in there?’ asked Serenity.