Gracie's Game: Sudden Anger, Accidentally on Purpose Page 8

  He turned to look at Clarissa. "Ms. Stewart, what about you?"

  "I'm a secretary at Maxco Engineering, I was at work until noon," Clarissa said calmly. "Then I drove to the country club where I met friends for lunch and a charity golf tournament. I got home around 5:00."

  Gracie sat next to her mother so Ken turned to her next. "Miss Greene?"

  "I was at school all day, Lieutenant," she said in a serious voice, as if she were giving testimony at a trial.

  Ken gave her a little wink and surveyed the rest of the crowd.

  "You, sir," he said nodding to Clay.

  "My name's Clay Wilson. I'm Clarissa's boyfriend," he responded. "I was at work during the morning, at Turner and Associates. I spent the afternoon with my daughter, Candy. She'll verify that."

  "Of course. Thank you, Mr. Wilson." Ken paused between each question to make notes. The large noisy woman was next. "And you are?"

  "Huh? Oh, me?" Jeanine seemed surprised to be asked. "Hell, I'm the dead man's sister!" she exclaimed. "Not that he treated me like family, son of a bitch wouldn't even give me a little loan to help me out."

  Ken looked up from writing. That was a very interesting statement. "I need your name for the record," he told her.

  "Jeanine," she said. "I was at bingo all afternoon. Got shitty cards too, didn't win a dime."

  Ken tried not to sigh in exasperation. "Which bingo hall would that be, Ma'am?"

  "Oh, the one on 16th street," Jeanine seemed at a loss for the name. "Lots-O-Luck, that's the name!"

  "And during the morning?" Ken prompted.

  "I'm off Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Had to go to the laundrymat, damned washer's broke again, it won't drain," she replied.

  "What's your last name please, Ma'am?" he asked. This one didn't follow instructions well, and volunteered information that others would keep quiet about. Which might or might not mean anything.

  "Jeanine Thomas," she said. "I'm his baby sister," she added.

  "Thank you. You're next, sir."

  "My name is Bill Conover. I'm - was - Charles' good friend. We went to college together, been friends ever since," Bill explained. "I was doing research in the chem lab at the university. I had classes in the morning. Tuesday's my light teaching day, so I spent the whole afternoon at the lab."

  Ken nodded and turned to the well-dressed couple. "And what are your names?"

  "Jim Holloway, and this is my wife Susan," Jim replied. "I'm a doctor, I was seeing patients all afternoon. My offices are located in the Northwest Medical Tower, by Mercy General."

  "I was at the golf tournament with Clarissa," said Susan. "I'm on the committee so I stayed to finish up some details with the donations, I only got home a few minutes before Cindy called with the news. But - I might be able to help with the theft."

  The room was suddenly quiet, and everyone turned to look at Susan. "Yes?" Ken asked.

  "Well, I spent the morning making calls on behalf of another charity," she began. "And then I realized I needed to get to the country club and I happened to notice Charles' car in the driveway as I was leaving."

  "What time was this, Mrs. Holloway?"

  "It was around 10:00 AM," she said. "I thought it was a little bit odd, he doesn't usually come home during the day. But he does sometimes, it's not like he has to stay at the office all day. Salesmen don't keep regular hours."

  "Did you see Mr. Greene?" he asked.

  "No, just his car," she replied. "He must've dropped by to get something for his presentation. He said he'd been working on it at home over the weekend."

  "Did you happen to notice when Mrs. Greene left this morning?" he asked.

  "No, she keeps her car in the garage so it's hard to tell if she's home or not," she replied.

  Ken took a few moments to look over his notes. "Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "I think that will do it for this evening. I will want to talk to you all sometime tomorrow, so please give me your contact info before you leave."

  "Again, I'm sorry for your loss and thank you for being here tonight."

  * * * *

  Back home once again after the family meeting with Lieutenant Freeman Gracie was sitting in her bedroom, thinking. She was so confused! It had been such a shock when her mother had told her about Cindy's call. And Cindy - why hadn't Jennifer called? Probably, Gracie thought uncharitably, because Jennifer knew she wouldn't sound properly upset. Not that anyone really believed Jennifer had in any way loved her father, nor that he had loved her. She was a beautiful young woman, he was rich. Everyone understood - and accepted - the arrangement.

  No, Cindy had called everyone with the bad news because Cindy knew it had to be done, and she was the kind of person who took care of the details even if they weren't pleasant. Too bad Dad hadn't married her! Cindy would've made his life comfortable and taken good care of his wants and needs. She'd make someone a good wife someday.

  Gracie tried to picture the kind of man Cindy might marry, but for some reason she kept coming up blank. As far as she knew, Cindy didn't even date. Maybe she just didn't have a serious boyfriend, and that's why she never brought a date to the parties. She worked evenings, Gracie knew, at some call center. That would make it tough to date, but not impossible.

  Maybe it was because she hung around with Jennifer all the time. What guy would give Cindy (or any girl, for that matter) a second look with Jennifer stealing the show? They must be really good friends for that not to bother Cindy.

  Unless, of course, Cindy wasn't interested in men. Now that was a thought! But wouldn't the same thing apply in meeting other women? Jennifer was married, she wouldn't care; but human beings preferred pretty people, regardless of their sexual orientation. Quiet, mousy Cindy would have trouble meeting anyone when Jennifer was around.

  Gracie felt like she was on the verge of figuring it out but couldn't quite put it together. Why spend all your time with someone who would steal the spotlight and leave you sitting home alone on Friday night? Except that Cindy worked nights and spent her days with Jennifer. Gracie shook her head, that was circular logic.

  She was hungry, the sandwiches hadn't been enough. She rolled off her bed and padded down the hall into the kitchen to check the fridge. There was some leftover fried chicken and several cups of yogurt. The chicken sounded better, but at nearly 10:00 at night she didn't need the extra calories from the greasy chicken. She opened a cup of blueberry yogurt and headed back to her room.

  Something about grease and calories was knocking at her brain. Halfway down the hall she suddenly remembered what it was. At the party Jennifer had snatched up a meatball and popped it in her mouth. Jennifer would never eat a greasy meatball, it was against her religion, meaning her vanity. "Think!" she commanded herself. What had Jennifer been doing just before that? Something she'd stopped doing, something that was worth eating a meatball to keep me from seeing.

  Gracie replayed the scene in her head; she remembered walking around the table, Jennifer and Cindy were standing behind it. "Holding hands! That's what Jennifer didn't want me to see," Gracie said aloud. "Then they'd gone in the house together, and I thought she just didn't want to talk to me."

  That was it, Jennifer and Cindy were a couple. That answered all the riddles, explained why they spent so much time together and why Cindy never had a boyfriend. Cindy worked evenings so she could spend her mornings with Jennifer, and Jennifer would be home in the evenings with her husband.

  But, if that were true, why had Jennifer married Dad? Was she bi? Was Cindy just her fun on the side, like Dad had his many flings? That didn't make sense, Cindy had always been Jennifer's friend. Well, at least for the year and a half that Gracie had known them. It must be a fairly committed relationship.

  "OK," she told herself, "Think it out. Jennifer and Cindy care about each other, but Jennifer marries Dad. Now she lives in a big expensive house and spends her days shopping, while Cindy lives somewhere and works a crummy job."

  Money. That was it. Jennifer
had access to rather a lot of money - and would get more if her husband died. Then Cindy would move into the house, or Jennifer would sell the house, and they'd be set up. That had to be it.

  But would it happen that way? Dad might well have been dazzled by Jennifer's cleavage, but surely he wouldn't leave all his money to her. Wouldn't most of it go to us kids? They'd only been married a year, he'd had plenty of time to change his will. He sold insurance, surely he had a life insurance policy on himself. Who was the beneficiary?

  She scraped the last of the yogurt off the sides of the cup as she thought about it. What was it that Shawna had talked about last year when her mom had re-married? A pre- something. "Pre-nuptial, that's what she called it. Both people agreed on what they would and wouldn't get if they divorced."

  It had sounded silly to them then, if you love someone why put limits on the marriage? Now Gracie began to see the reasons. You wouldn't want the new wife to get everything if you had kids. Dad wasn't stupid, had he made Jennifer sign one? Was there something in it that changed when they'd been married for a year?

  Maybe that explained the "burglary", she thought. Jennifer was looking for a copy of the pre-nuptial in Dad's office, it would be just like her not to have a copy herself. She said she'd been shopping, but maybe she'd really been home looking for it. But in that case, why tear up the rest of the house? That didn't make sense.

  "Follow the thought out," she told herself. Maybe Jennifer hadn't found it in the office, had gotten desperate and looked through the rest of the house. It still didn't explain why it was such a mess; it would take more time to search neatly but Jennifer had time.

  So what if she did find it - and it didn't say what she thought it had. Maybe she hadn't even read it before she signed it, she'd just taken Dad's word about what was in it. Maybe she found out she didn't get much if she divorced him, but she'd inherit a ton if he died. Especially if they'd been married at least one year. Maybe she thought if she destroyed it she'd get everything; but that was stupid, Dad's lawyer would have a copy, Dad would have seen to that. It still didn't explain the mess.

  In any case, Jennifer had been home at 3:00 when Dad had been shot. She'd been on the phone with 911 and talking to the police a little later. She had an iron-clad alibi, she couldn't possibly have shot him. That was a relief to Gracie. Although she didn't like Jennifer, she didn't want to think she was capable of cold-blooded murder.

  That left Cindy. Maybe Cindy shot him so Jennifer would have an alibi. That could explain the mess, Jennifer set herself up. But she really couldn't see Cindy as a murder. Murderess? What was it Lieutenant Freeman had said? Something about Cindy showing up shortly after the police had come to investigate the break-in, and that he doubted she'd have had time to drive across town. Well, the police would check that out, but it seemed like Cindy was in the clear, too.

  If the burglary and murder were connected, who did that leave? Her mother wouldn't need to break in to find anything, she kept copies of the divorce decree in her desk, Gracie had seen them. Something to do with a client who thought Dad had cheated him? Nah, they'd break into Dad's office downtown.

  Gracie tried to remember what everyone had said earlier tonight. She went down the guest list in her mind. Then it hit her - Aunt Jeanine! She'd complained that Dad hadn't treated her like family because he wouldn't give her a loan.

  She remembered the scene at the party. Dad and Aunt Jeanine had had a loud argument about the loan. Dad had said some pretty ugly things and Aunt Jeanine had begged. No, wait. Aunt Jeanine had begged Jennifer to talk to Dad, but that was later on. Dad had refused to loan her the money, but he'd told her "you're in my will".

  Had Aunt Jeanine broken in to find the will? That made a little more sense, she wouldn't have bothered to be careful in her search. And she'd certainly have taken the cash Dad kept in his desk drawer. Wouldn't her car have been seen? Maybe the neighbors didn't pay any attention because they knew it "belonged" at the house.

  What had her alibi been? Gracie remembered the lieutenant had had to drag it out of her in bits and pieces, Aunt Jeanine never could tell a story so it made sense. Oh, yeah. She'd done laundry in the morning and played bingo all afternoon. Well, that wouldn't surprise her. It wouldn't be easy to check out, though.

  Perhaps Aunt Jeanine had found Dad's will, and learned that either she wasn't in it or that she didn't get very much. That would certainly have made her mad! But mad enough to shoot him? Gracie just couldn't see that. Besides, it would have required her aunt to do something for herself, and she did as little as she could. That was the biggest reason she never got the things she wanted, because she wasn't willing to make any effort on her own behalf. Aunt Jeanine might be ditzy enough to think there was only one copy of the will and that the money would be split among family if it couldn't be found, though.

  Even if Aunt Jeanine had discovered she inherited a big chunk of change, she'd just spin fantasies about how she was gonna spend it all. Gracie had heard it all before; "when I win the lottery", followed by a list of purchases: car, house, jewelry, plastic surgery and liposuction, and then a new wardrobe. In spite of her faults Aunt Jeanine was basically a good person; she could twist the truth in her own favor but she couldn't lie, it just wasn't in her nature. Neither was murder.

  So maybe the burglary was a coincidence after all. Some junkie looking for things he could sell so he could buy drugs. It seemed odd that he'd only hit Dad's house and none of the others in the neighborhood. Surely the police would've known by now if several houses in the area had been robbed. It also seemed funny that a junkie would've left Justin's marijuana; free dope would've been a little extra bonus. Hadn't he stolen pills out of the medicine cabinet?

  Gracie gave up and decided to go to bed. Maybe it would all make better sense in the morning.

  CHAPTER 10

  Gracie was sitting in class Wednesday morning during first hour when an aide stuck her head in the door and briefly conferred with the teacher.

  "Gracie?" Mr. Jackson turned to look at her. "Would you get your books and go with the aide, please?"

  Gracie closed her notebook and piled the textbooks on top. She picked everything up and walked to the door. "What's going on, now?" she asked herself. The aide just smiled at her as they walked out the door and down the hallway.

  "Where are we going?" Gracie asked her.

  "Mrs. Baker wants to see you," she said without giving any further details.

  "Great, now I know how my brother feels. Except that Justin doesn't care when he's sent to the principal," Gracie muttered to herself.

  Gracie was nervous when she was ushered into the inner sanctum. So much had happened yesterday, she was afraid maybe there was more bad news. But Mrs. Baker just smiled and gestured for her to take a seat.

  "Gracie, I am so very sorry to hear about your father's death," Mrs. Baker said. "You must be terribly upset."

  "Thank you," Gracie replied. "I am upset, but more confused. I just don't know who could've done it, or why."

  "The police don't have a suspect yet?" Mrs. Baker asked.

  "No Ma'am," Gracie said.

  "Well, these things take time. I was surprised to see you were in class today, I'd expected you would stay home."

  "I'd rather be here," Gracie told her. "If I stayed home I'd just drive myself crazy trying to figure it all out. School gives me something else to think about. It's OK, isn't it?"

  "It's fine, if that's what you want. If you change your mind just let us know, and we'll understand," Mrs. Baker said.

  "OK, thanks. Uh, can I go back to class now?" Gracie asked.

  * * * *

  At 9:00 AM sharp Ken Freeman walked into the Wilkins Insurance Agency offices. Although technically it was evidence in a murder investigation, he felt that the victim's briefcase - and the contents thereof - should be turned over to the man's boss. The secretary pointed him to Mr. Wilkins' office.

  "Gerald Wilkins?" he asked as he stepped inside the door. "I'm Lieutenant Ken Freem
an, Homicide."

  Jerry stood up and shook hands with the officer. "Call me 'Jerry'," he said jovially. "Homicide did you say? How can I help you?" He seemed a little confused. "We're a full-service agency here, includin' life insurance. Are you wantin' info on a policy-holder? That's private information, I'm not sure we can tell you, say, who the beneficiary is."

  "No, it's not that," Ken said. "I understand that Charles Greene worked here as one of your agents." It was not a question.

  "Charles, sure!" Jerry said affably. "My top salesman. He hasn't come in yet this morning, probably out seeing clients. He should be in after while, I expect."

  "I'm afraid," said Ken, "that Mr. Greene was murdered yesterday afternoon."

  "Murdered?" Jerry said, stunned.

  "Yes, Sir. Mr. Bixby's staff found the body around 4 PM yesterday, just outside the gates of the mansion. Did he perhaps stop to call and tell you Mr. Bixby had indeed signed the contracts?"

  Jerry sat back down in his chair, looking like he wasn't even aware he was doing so. "Well, I'm sure glad to hear that. Not that it seems terribly important at the moment. I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I'm so rattled I'm forgetting my manners. Please, have a seat." He gestured to a chair in front of his desk.

  Ken sat down, with the briefcase resting across his lap.

  "I haven't heard from Charles since he left yesterday," he said. "To tell you the truth I was a little surprised. The Bixby contract was a big deal to us, and I really expected Charles to come in whoopin' and hollerin' about it. Kinda made me wonder if the old man hadn't signed after all. But, no, he didn't call me."

  Ken laid the briefcase on the desk in front of him. "We found Mr. Greene's briefcase in his car. I thought you should have it, knew you'd need the paperwork; though I should tell you that I've photocopied everything just in case. Can you tell me if anything's missing? Or if there's something there that shouldn't be?"

  Jerry took the case somewhat gingerly, as if it might bite. He opened it and pulled out the papers, spread them out on the desk and mumbled to himself as he checked them off against some mental list. Finally he looked up and said, "Everything looks in order, far as I can tell. A copy of the presentation, the contracts, his itinerary, some notes on other clients. Thank you very much, Lieutenant, for letting me have these. But it wasn't Charles' car."