Gracie's Game: Sudden Anger, Accidentally on Purpose Read online

  "Clay was there with Mom," Gracie said. "The lieutenant thinks his alibi stinks, too."

  "Why? What did he say he was doing?" Cheryl asked.

  "Said he spent the afternoon with his daughter, Candy," Gracie replied. "Candy confirmed that. Except that she says she called him and there's no record of it."

  "Maybe he just went to see her, and she thought it sounded better if she said she called," Cheryl said.

  "The thing is, Clay called her – after we all met with Lieutenant Freeman," Gracie said meaningfully.

  "That does sound suspiciously like he needed an alibi, doesn't it?" Shawna asked.

  "Yeah, it does. Except what possible motive could Clay have?" Gracie asked.

  No one had any bright ideas on that score.

  "Bill was there, too," Gracie said. "But he's my Dad's best friend! Why would he want to kill him? He doesn't have any motive, that I can see." Gracie giggled, remembering how Lieutenant Freeman had referred to Bill. "The lieutenant called him 'The Nutty Professor', but Rita told him she heard Bill lock the lab door. And he had classes all morning, so he couldn't have broken in either."

  "So, who does that leave?" Cheryl asked.

  "Just the neighbors, I guess," Gracie told them. "The Holloways have lots of witnesses, and they're old friends, can't see why either of them would do it. There was George, next door – he didn't like Dad, always complained about the noise and the parties. But his style would be to call the cops, he's done it often enough."

  "Then there's the 'un-sub', someone we don't know about," Shawna said.

  "Right now that's about the only thing that makes any sense!" Gracie declared. "Someone broke into the house in the morning and made it look like a burglary. Who knows if they took something from Dad's office, or maybe just found some info that pissed them off. They lay in wait for him at the garage and took a couple of shots at him, then followed him to Bixby's and killed him there. It had to be the same person, they used the same gun. I'm not buying the burglary wasn't part of it."

  "The family and friends either don't have a good reason (that we know about, anyway) or if they do they have a great alibi. It must be someone we don't know."

  "Except maybe for Aunt Jeanine," Gracie thought to herself.

  CHAPTER 13

  Thursday morning found Ken Freeman in his office looking over his notes on the Greene case. A (probably faked) burglary, an attempted murder, then a successful murder. He shook his head in exasperation; this one wasn't going to be easy to untangle. Everyone except the sister had a reasonably good alibi for at least part of the day; the ex-wife's boyfriend was at work in the morning so he couldn't have been the burglar, but it looked like he'd manufactured an alibi for the time of the murder.

  Could some of these people be working in cahoots? From what he knew of them it didn't seem likely, but it was something to keep in mind. He needed to talk to them all again and see what they'd tell him without the others around. There was another question that bothered him – there was no good way to know for sure when the burglary had occurred. He pushed papers around on his desk until he found the one he wanted. The neighbor lady had said she'd seen Greene's car in the drive around 10:00; the wife said Greene had left home at 8:30 and she'd left to go shopping at 9:30. No one else had seen anything.

  Ken began scooping the pages back together when his eye fell on the notes for the interview with the victim's boss. The man had described Greene as "pretty wound up", and that was before shots had been fired at his car. Ken had wondered if the man had been shot at before he got to the office, though it didn't make a lot of sense for him to admit to the broken window (at least) a few minutes later. If he'd gone home to find the house vandalized, that could explain his mood.

  It also begged the question of why he hadn't reported the burglary. Maybe it was what he'd said about the car, he was hell-bent on making that meeting with Bixby and didn't want to take the time. From what Ken had heard about this guy it wouldn't surprise him that Greene would've just left the whole mess for his wife to find and deal with.

  On the other hand, maybe he was just nervous about making the big deal. Ken had read the contracts, there was a lot of money involved and even a seasoned salesman might be concerned at the outcome. Which would mean that the house had been fine when he was there at 10ish, and the burglary must've happened later in the day.

  The phone on Ken's desk rang. It was the oldest son's professor returning yesterday's call. Clarke Greene had indeed been present in his 11:40 class, which didn't let out until 1:10. Ken looked it up on MapQuest to get the mileage, the kid couldn't possibly have had time to drive down here by 3:00. Besides, he couldn't have known when the meeting would be over, so why take the chance?

  Ken put in a call to Jerry Wilkins, the victim's boss. Jerry said Greene had talked of nothing but the pending meeting, and upon reflection described Greene's mood as tense rather than angry. Greene hadn't mentioned he'd been home during the morning, but had told Jerry on Friday that he'd work on the presentation at home over the weekend so it was entirely possible he'd gone back to get something he'd forgotten. Jerry had volunteered the information that he owned a gun, a .22. Ken hadn't thought him a likely suspect, anyway.

  Ken decided to call the neighbor lady to re-check her story.

  "Good morning, Lieutenant," Susan said. "Clarissa called me last night to tell me that you'd found Charles' car – and with bullet holes in it, too. This is really getting to be a puzzle! How can I help you?"

  "Tuesday evening you told me you'd seen Mr. Greene's car at the house, sometime around 10 AM," he began.

  "Yes, I did," she replied. "But now I'm wondering if maybe I wasn't mistaken."

  "You didn't see his car?"

  "Yes I saw it, but I meant mistaken about the time," she said patiently. "I'd been so busy that morning, I was trying to get the catering set up for another event. I was using a new caterer and I'm not sure they'd done anything that big before and they kept calling me back with questions."

  "Go on," Ken encouraged. Some people have to tell a story in their own good time.

  "The last time I remember looking at the clock it was 9:30 and I knew I needed to get dressed for the golf tournament. Then Donna called to say she'd changed the location of the other event and that meant another round of calls to the caterer. I really thought it all only took about 30 minutes, but Theresa told me yesterday that I'd only arrived at the country club at noon."

  "OK," Ken said, not seeing her point.

  "I was supposed to be there at 11:00!" she said as if that explained everything.

  Ken finally figured it out. "So you were running late," he said.

  "Yes!" Susan agreed. "So it must've been nearly noon when I left, and saw Charles' car."

  "OK. Just so I'm clear on this, you saw Mr. Greene's car, but not the man himself. And you didn't see any other cars or people at that time. Even someone that you might expect to be there."

  "Yes, that's right. I didn't see Jennifer's car or her friend's, and Justin wrecked his car a few weeks ago and anyway he should've been in school," she replied.

  "Can you think of anyone who would want to kill Mr. Greene?" he asked.

  "No one that I know of," Susan said. "He could be an irritating man, some of the neighbors don't like him. He was kind of arrogant, always wanted things to go his way. But I guess that's part of the saleman attitude, don't you think?"

  "Could be," Ken replied somewhat noncommittally.

  "He liked to show off his wealth, too," she continued. "I remember he made a big point of letting us all know he'd bought the new Jaguar last year. We prefer a little quieter attitude, after all it was just a new car. But he could be stingy, too. He refused to donate to the neighborhood beautification fund, said he didn't care if the medians had flowerbeds or not. And of course he refused to give his own sister a loan!"

  "Yes, Ma'am. She mentioned that the other night," Ken said.

  "She did, didn't she?" Susan remarked. "I heard them talking
about it at the party. I'm surprised the whole neighborhood didn't hear it! She wouldn't accept 'no' for an answer until he finally told her he'd put her in his will and she could get it when he died. Even then she tried later to get Jennifer to talk Charles into giving her the loan." Susan laughed sarcastically.

  "I don't imagine that went over very well!" Ken remarked.

  "No, Jennifer refused to even talk to him about it. Jeanine said 'He'll regret this' and then left. Oh, but you don't think Jeanine killed him, do you Lieutenant?"

  "I'll investigate all possibilities, Mrs. Holloway," Ken replied carefully. "Do you know anything about Mr. Greene's will?"

  "Jim might, but I don't," she replied. "I'm pretty sure that we use the same lawyer, though. That would be Stan Michaels, he'd be the one to ask about a will."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Holloway. Just one more question, just for the record you understand. Do you or your husband own a gun?" Ken asked.

  "Yes, Jim does. He keeps it in the nightstand drawer, it's a .38. We both practice at the range occasionally. With Jim being a doctor you never know if some junkie is going to break in thinking there are drugs in the house. Would you like me to bring it in?"

  "No, Ma'am," he told her. "In fact, please don't even touch it. I'll have an officer come get it, if that's all right with you. Once we've eliminated it you can have it back."

  "Of course, Lieutenant," Susan said. "Charles was shot with a .38, wasn't he? I understand completely that you have to check it out. I'll be here all morning but I have a meeting this afternoon so I'd appreciate it if the officer would come before noon."

  "Certainly, Mrs. Holloway," Ken said. "And thank you very much for talking with me. Goodbye."

  Ken hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. Well, so the sister thinks she's in Greene's will, and was angry enough about not getting a loan that she made threats. Of course people say that kind of thing all the time and don't really mean it, it's just bluster. Let's just find out. He put in a call to Mr. Michaels' office, leaving a summary with the secretary who promised to check their files. He also asked the internal accounting expert to check up on the finances of several key players.

  Now it was on to checking alibis a little more closely. He called Clay Wilson; the man was on his way to a construction site and promised to meet him there so Ken left the office to drive to the site.

  Ken looked around at the bare bones of the building, thinking that they always seemed much smaller until the walls went up. Not enough perspective to accurately judge size. He could see Wilson over in the corner studying the blueprints. As Ken started towards him a young man hurried over with a hardhat in his hand, insisting he wear it. He thanked the guy and put it on, feeling a bit silly. Still, better safe than sorry he told himself.

  "Good morning, Mr. Wilson," he said as he approached. "Say, what's this going to be when it's finished?"

  "Oh, hi Lieutenant," Clay said. "It's an office building. At least it's not another strip mall," he joked.

  "I'm talking to everyone involved today, so please don't feel singled out," Ken said, getting down to business.

  "I'm glad you dropped by," Clay said seriously. "Candy told me about your visit, she seemed to think it's thrilling to be part of a murder investigation." Clay shivered. "Personally I wish the whole thing hadn't happened. But, I'm afraid she exaggerated her details."

  "In what way?" Ken asked in a neutral tone.

  "She didn't call me, I dropped by the mall to see her. I was on my way to another site and as I drove past the mall I thought of her and decided to give her a visit. She was just going to lunch, so I bought her something at the food court and we talked," Clay told him.

  "Time got away from us, I told her she needed to get back to work, but she said she was already late and she didn't like the job anyway, so she'd just go on home. I offered to go with her, thought maybe I could talk some sense into her. She's having fun living on her own – too much fun, if you know what I mean."

  "Why would she say she'd called you?" Ken asked.

  "I guess she thought it sounded better if it had been arranged, instead of just happening. She lives and dies by that cell phone so a call sounded natural to her. I'm sure you've checked and found out she didn't call me, I doubt that thought ever occurred to her."

  Clay's words trailed off; then Ken could almost see the light bulb go on over his head. "There's another possibility. She probably went out that evening after I left; it's entirely possible she had so much to drink that she really didn't remember how it happened."

  "I see," Ken said. He still wasn't buying it. Wilson had been too quick to explain away the non-existent phone call; it sounded like he was improvising on the original lie and it didn't improve the story any, either. He'd let it go for the moment; he'd detailed an officer to knock and talk at the daughter's apartment building to see if anyone had seen them there. Maybe Wilson would improve on the story again and he'd catch him in a lie he could disprove.

  "OK then, the usual questions. Do you know if Mr. Greene had any enemies?" Ken asked.

  "Not that I know of. The Merry Widow probably isn't crying her eyes out over his death, but I don't think she'd kill him. My guess is that he was worth more to her alive than dead. And I know you probably consider Clarissa as a suspect, but she didn't do it. Their marriage was pretty bad, but she got her revenge by divorcing him. She's not ready to trust enough to marry again yet, but she's working hard to build a new life for herself. If she was going to kill him it would've been during the divorce," Clay explained.

  "Did Ms. Stewart ever say if she inherits anything on his death?" Ken asked.

  "Never asked," Clay responded. "I doubt it. Maybe the balance of her alimony and child support, but that's not a huge sum. Not worth killing over. She isn't in financial difficulty; in fact she's invested wisely and is really doing pretty well. She doesn't have to work, she does it because she wants to."

  "I understand. One last question, then. Do you own a gun?"

  "No, I don't," Clay said. "Some of the guys like to carry 'em on site, we sometimes come at odd times to see how the construction's going. A site feels pretty lonely if the crews aren't around, but I've never felt the need to arm myself."

  "OK, then." Ken shook hands with Clay. "Thanks for taking the time to talk with me."

  Clay returned to his perusal of the blueprints as if this had only been a minor interruption.

  As Ken walked back to his car he thought about where he wanted to go next. He really wanted to talk to the sister, but the medical tower wasn't far away so he figured he'd go talk to the doctor first.

  * * * *

  "Candy? This is Dad. Call me soon as you can, it's important. Bye."

  Clay closed his cell phone and went back to studying the blueprints, but he was having trouble concentrating. He'd laid the phone on the upper right corner of the table and his eyes kept straying to the phone instead of looking at the area where he'd found a problem with the construction.

  "Dammit," he muttered under his breath. "I've got to figure out where they screwed up, but I can't see it. I sure don't need this, not right now. C'mon Honey, call me." He glared at the phone and commanded, "Ring."

  The phone complied, and Clay jumped in surprise. He put his hand to his chest and sighed, releasing the sudden shot of adrenaline. On the second ring he managed to pick the phone up and answer.

  "Hi, Dad!" It was Candy.

  "Oh good," Clay said. "I thought maybe you'd already left for work, and I didn't want to leave a message."

  "I was in the shower," Candy replied. "But I need to get going if I'm not gonna be late."

  "OK, I'll make it short," Clay told her. "Lieutenant Freeman just dropped by, and I explained away the call just like we talked about. I think he bought it, but I don't think we ought to count on that. You'd better dig through your trash and find those receipts."

  "Oh, ick! Do I have to?" Candy asked.

  "Yes, you do," Clay said authoritatively. "Do it now and you'll have th
em just in case. You paid cash, so we can always claim I was there to give the money to you." He smiled fondly, and Candy could hear it in his voice. "I'll even give you my permission to be late to work, just this once."

  Doctor Holloway had just come in from his morning hospital rounds and had a few minutes before seeing his first patient. He invited Ken into his office and shut the door for privacy.

  "Hello, Lieutenant. Come to talk to me alone? See if my story changes when no one else is listening?" Jim asked. "Well, it will a little bit. There were some things I didn't want to say in front of the ladies, especially Gracie. She's a good kid and this is a very trying time for her. Some things a child shouldn't know about her parents."

  "Fair enough. What kind of things?" Ken asked.

  "I'm sure you've heard that Charles wasn't a very nice guy," Jim began. "He cheated on both his wives, lied to them of course. He could lie with a straight face, and did whenever it suited his purpose. He lied to clients all the time, promised them benefits that weren't in the contracts."

  "Don't all salesmen do that to some extent?" Ken asked with a smile.

  "Not like that!" Jim exclaimed. "He'd tell me about things like swearing a homeowner's policy included flood coverage, or an auto policy would pay double if you wore your seatbelt. Then he'd laugh at how stupid the client was to believe such a thing."

  "So you think a client found out he didn't have the insurance coverage he thought he'd been paying for and shot the salesman?" Ken had heard crazier motives.

  Jim grinned. "It's always a possibility, but I was just trying to show you what kind of man Charles was. He was very likable on the outside, but he'd go to any length to get what he wanted. For instance, he cheated at poker."

  "You know that for a fact, or are you guessing? Did you play with him?" Ken asked.

  "Yeah, a bunch of us in the neighborhood get together about once a month. You know, boys' night out. Charles always brought a box of expensive cigars, though he rarely smoked anywhere else. Cubanos, you understand. I got the feeling he just did it because he thought they went with the setting – Scotch, cigars, and cards. He even wore one of those green eyeshades," Jim explained.