"Well, girls, Charlotte's death is officially a murder. Mitch just confirmed it. The autopsy report showed nothing physically wrong with her, and he is having her tea analyzed at this moment."
"Oh, Lettie, this is so hard to fathom. I can't imagine who would want to kill Char," Sophie replied.
"Maybe there is some deep dark secret about Charlotte that we don't know that would give someone a motive," Gloria chimed in.
Lettie repeated the conversation with Mitch including the fact that she and Sophie needed to go to the police station for finger printing.
Gloria commented, "Boy I'm glad, I don't have to go."
"You do. Anyway, why would you care to be finger printed?"
"Oh, it's just that I did something when I was young that Lawrence doesn't know about, and I'd be afraid he would be furious that I haven't been up front with him."
"What in the world would be so bad that you couldn't tell your husband about it?" Lettie jumped in, her mind leaping to all sorts of conclusions.
"It probably wasn't that horrible, but Lawrence comes from a squeaky, clean straightlaced family, and I was afraid he wouldn't approve of me and think of me as a worthy candidate for marriage."
"What did you do, Gloria?" Lettie remarked impatiently.
"Do you both swear that you'll never tell a soul?"
"I may be the most curious person you know, but I'm not a tattletale. I won't tell anyone."
"Your secret is safe with me, too," Sophie added.
Gloria pushed locks of her medium length brown hair behind her ears and smoothed her black skirt after she sat at the kitchen table. "Here goes. When I was a freshman in college, I was involved in the anti-Vietnam war effort. I rallied and protested everywhere I possibly had time for with my classes and work schedule. There was a gigantic protest rally on a Saturday night, and I had met with some of the leaders of the march earlier in the day and smoked some marijuana. When the police arrived at the demonstration, I got out of hand. Anyway, I was one of the people they took to jail, and that's how I got a police record."
"I think you're overreacting. Lots of people did that sort of thing in the sixties. I don't think Lawrence would be upset about it," Sophie remarked.
"You two don't know Lawrence very well. His family is very conservative, and he has those same values. He has never done anything wrong in his entire life. Believe it or not, he has never gotten a speeding ticket. Therefore, I don't think it would sit very well with him if he finds out about my incarceration. Even more damning is keeping it from him all these years." "Of course, I've only met him ever so briefly, but he doesn't seem like a monster to me," commented Lettie.
"Oh, don't get me wrong. Lawrence is a wonderful husband and father. He has always treated me with the utmost respect, and I want to keep it that way."
Lettie thought Gloria was making a mountain out of a molehill. Looking at how Gloria was dressed today and every time she had seen her, however, it was hard for Lettie to believe that she would be caught dead in a pair of scruffy jeans and a tee shirt. This was her image of the typical sixties demonstrator. She had lived during that torrid time herself, but, although she didn't approve of the war, she hadn't gotten involved in demonstrating against it.
"Gloria, don't get so upset. I'm sure that the police can keep this information confidential from your husband," Sophie said.
"Well, you two, I guess I'll get going. I probably won't calm down until I find out whether the police will keep my secret."
"If it is necessary, go to the police station while Lawrence is working. Simply tell the police that you don't want news of your early arrest to get out," Lettie comforted.
"I know I'm overreacting. I'd better get going. Are you two going to the police station right away?" Lettie and Sophie looked at each other and nodded their heads simultaneously. Gloria left Sophie's kitchen less briskly than when she had arrived.
"Sophie, we might as well go to the police station now, if that's all right. Who would believe this--both of us being finger printed for a murder investigation?"
"It's nothing I would have dreamed about when I got up this morning. I'll get my purse, and we can be on our way."
"I'll drive since my van is parked in front of your garage door."
"Okay, by me. Wait until Harold hears about this. He'll think it's hysterical. You and I, the two most peaceable people I know, having to go to the police station to be finger printed."
Lettie piled her belongings into the van, got in, and fastened her seatbelt. She started the engine, and it purred along while Sophie got herself situated. She was a little nervous about this fingerprint thing, but she knew she had nothing to hide. It was just fear of the unknown, she guessed. Lettie backed down Sophie's driveway and turned the green van toward downtown Stafford. Both she and Sophie noticed the increased activity at the Downey residence. More police cars were evident and a van proclaiming "Crime Scene Investigation" was present.
"Sophie, I wonder where Jeff is going to spend the night. I bet they won't be done with that investigation for some time."
"Maybe he'll stay with Amelia."
"I can't imagine that those two would be that close, but she might be decent enough to invite him. They could reminisce about Charlotte."
"I only wish I knew Jeff better. I would ask him to stay at our house. That would be convenient for him and the police. I wonder if they will let him get some clean clothes."
"Only you would think of such a thing", Lettie chided. "You and your nurturing instinct. I would think he could go into the house if someone on the police force escorted him to make sure he didn't disturb anything.
"You know me. I have been concerned about my family's well being for so long that it just transfers to other people. After having all the boys and Harold to take care of, I just have that mothering instinct toward everyone."
"I feel really fortunate that I was able to be a stay-at-home mom, but I know the younger generation thinks I'm crazy."
"Personally, I think you are very lucky." The friends fell into silence during the remainder of the short drive to downtown Stafford. The town was laid out around a central point--the Walker County Courthouse. The streets surrounding the courthouse made a square. Thus when someone referred to the square, it was a given that they meant downtown Stafford. A prized real estate location, the square was home not only to the police department, but also many offices, merchants, and restaurants.
This was not always the case. When the new shopping mall opened in the early 1970's, many merchants moved their stores to that suburban location. The city fathers, wishing to stimulate a rebirth in downtown Stafford, undertook a joint venture with the university to revitalize the area around the courthouse. All the old buildings were remodeled, and now when one walked around the square, they were taken back in time.
Parking around the square had been a constant problem in the past, but the city leaders voted to build a new multi-level parking garage when the revitalization was complete. Lettie drove her van to the second level of that garage which was positioned behind the police station on the south side of the square. Both Lettie and Sophie continued their nervous silence while they walked to the front of a Victorian-looking façade. If the sign had not proclaimed this to be the Stafford Police Department, an outsider would think he were in Victorian England.
They announced themselves to the officer on duty and sat on hard, straight chairs and waited. Lettie's mind was on Mitch Crawford. She wondered if he were still at work. Since he had always been a dedicated individual, lack of sleep was not going to keep him from attending to the task at hand. It would be nice if he could take the fingerprints, but surely it would be no big deal.
Both women heard their names announced. Lettie knew that this was not Mitch's voice, since it was definitely of the feminine persuasion. Policewomen Janice Waterman led the women down a hall to a small office. The inside of the police station was not nearly as cheerful as the exterior. Walls were painted beige and floors were covered with dark brown and white vinyl tiles. Furniture was sturdy and utilitarian.
Policewoman Waterman took the fingerprints with a minimum of conversation and told Lettie and Sophie that they would call if they needed them for anything further. Janice Waterman escorted the pair back to where they had started.
"That wasn't as bad as I had imagined. Just a little messy." It was Sophie speaking.
"I guess we feel that way since we are not suspects in this investigation."
On the way back to Lettie's car, the cellular phone rang. Gina, the secretary at Watkins and Edwards Real Estate, was on the other end. Much to Lettie's chagrin, she needed to get to the office. Not that she didn't like her work, but she was so engrossed in the intrigue of the murder of her friend that she would rather concentrate on it at the moment. However, that would have to wait. She told Gina she would be at the office in thirty minutes.
After depositing Sophie, she drove to her office. A staff meeting and routine paper work regarding the sale of the Meese property kept Lettie at the office until 5:30.
Lettie was well aware that she would be seeing Mitch for dinner soon. She stopped to buy a bottle of wine. Trying to decide between white and red, she settled on a blush as a compromise. Then she hurried home to clean up. For a change, she entered her condo through the front door. She glanced at herself in the hall mirror and realized that her hair had been in a ponytail all day long, and definitely could use some attention. After dropping her purse on the couch, she checked her answering machine. There was a message from Gloria Spencer inquiring about the fingerprinting. Gloria really must be nervous, Lettie reflected. Surely, her husband wasn't that bad. Lettie called Sophie and asked her to phone Gloria since she needed to tend to her appearance.
While rushing up the stairs, she was tossing her dirty clothes down the stairs. She plugged in her hot rollers and went to her closet to select an appropriate outfit for the evening. Her nerves were on edge. This reminded her of how she felt on her first date. Reflecting on that time in her life, she wished she weren't going through the dating routine again.
It wasn't as if she hadn't dated since her divorce from Doug. After going out with quite a few different men she had not gotten serious about anyone. Her feelings at this stage in her life were mixed. On the one hand, she liked her independence. On the other hand, she was often lonely. She knew someday she would remarry.
Getting to know someone was difficult at best. With Mitch, at least that part of seeing him tonight would be easier. They would have a lot of catching up to do that was certain.
Having breakfast with Mitch this morning brought back good memories. She had not been actively seeking a serious relationship, but Mitch had sent her emotions into a state of confusion. She thought of the good times of the past and realized that both of them had changed. In fact, they had been married and had children with others, and they surely didn't have that much in common anymore.
Lettie was still searching her closet to find the perfect outfit for her dinner this evening. Her choice of clothing was always impeccable. Lettie's parents had been a great influence on her in the matters of dress. Both were extremely conscious of their appearances.
Lettie didn't go to the extremes her mother did, but she always looked neat and put together. Tonight's selection was mauve gabardine pants, an ivory silk blouse, and a matching hand knit fairisle cardigan--one of Lettie's many knitting projects. She frequently bought fine yarns to coordinate with purchases and then knitted matching accessories.
A knitter since the age of twelve, she became fascinated early on by her grandmother's handwork. It didn't take much begging to get her grandmother to teach her rudimentary knitting stitches. Lettie didn't really get into her knitting until she went away to college. One of her sorority sisters sparked her interest again, and she hadn't been away from her needles since.
She rolled her hair and changed into her clean clothes. After freshening her makeup, she lightly sprayed on Chanel No. 5. All the while, she was repeatedly checking the clock to make sure she wouldn't be late for her date. She picked a silver chain, silver dangle earrings, and a bangle bracelet for her accessories. After brushing out her blonde hair and spritzing it with hair spray, she surveyed her appearance in her cheval mirror. Not bad for an old friend, she thought. In haste, she almost fell while stepping into her flats. She grabbed her sweater and rushed down the stairs.
The drive to Mitch's apartment was not lengthy but gave her time to reflect on the events of the past twenty‑four hours. She tried to concentrate on Charlotte's apparent poisoning, but her nerves were so jangled that all she accomplished was to twist her hair with her index finger. She wanted to find out who benefited most from Charlotte's death, Jeff or Amelia. Maybe Mitch had found out.
The Greenbriar Apartments, built of gray clapboard with cedar shake roofs, were three story units with twelve apartments per unit. There was a kidney shaped swimming pool and a gazebo in the central area of the complex. Lettie found building C with no problem, parked her car, and checked her watch. It was three minutes to seven.
She walked up the shrub-lined walk and rang the doorbell of Mitch's ground floor apartment. Waiting for him to answer, she rubbed her cold hands together. This condition was brought on by her nerves and not by the outside temperature. In fact, it was a beautiful, spring evening. Mitch opened the door and grinned widely. He gestured for Lettie to come in. Dressed in navy blue chinos, a blue and white pin striped shirt, and penny loafers, he looked like an Ivy Leaguer. His wet hair showed the curls in his blonde hair. In high school, he had hated his curly hair, she recalled. "Welcome to my humble abode. As you can see, the decorations are sparse, since I left all the furniture at my house. I just rented the bare minimum."
"Don't make apologies, I think it looks fine."
Lettie surveyed her surroundings. A couch and chair in black leather and a glass cocktail table and end table were the only pieces of furniture in the living room. Of course, there was a TV and stereo. The carpeting was gray, and Lettie thought a touch of color would be nice. However, poor Mitch probably had not had time to do anything but select the furniture at the rental store. She always appraised living quarters from the eye of a realtor looking to sell a property. She proffered the bottle of wine and apologized for not knowing whether to buy red or white. Mitch accepted her apology and thanked her. "Something smells wonderful."
"I'm afraid we're not having a very elegant dinner. Since I didn't get home until five o'clock, I didn't have time to do anything glamorous. You smell beef stroganoff cooking."
"Aren't we the gourmet?"
"I started cooking for relaxation. When I would get home late from working on a difficult case, I couldn't seem to unwind. Since I usually was hungry, I started experimenting with various dishes. I bought The Joy of Cooking and went from there. I now am a really good cook if I do say so myself. Of course, it's probably part of the reason I'm getting divorced. I would be up at all hours in the kitchen making a mess, and Belinda didn't particularly care for all the activity in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning."
"Well, I'm starving, and I'm used to restaurant fare or a diet TV dinner, so I'm sure it will taste wonderful. Can I help you with anything? I'm not that practiced at cooking anymore, but I can whip up something if needed."
"I already have a salad made, and I bought a fresh loaf of bread from the bakery.
"It sounds yummy."
"Let's go to the kitchen while I cook the noodles for the stroganoff. It will only take a few minutes, and then we can eat."
Mitch's kitchen was small with an adjoining eating area. The glass table motif carried into this area as well. The chairs completed the black leather theme. Lettie concluded that the rental store must have coordinated sets for living and dining areas. It was a very practical style for a single person. Lettie seated herself, and Mitch brought her a glass of wine. She was anxious to ask Mitch about the investigation. "Sophie and I got our fingerprints taken this afternoon. We were a little nervous even though we knew it was only to help the investigation."
"Did Janice Waterman do your prints?"
"Yes, she was quiet but nice, and it didn't take long."
"What time were you there?"
"It was sometime after two. For once, I didn't look at my watch when we arrived, but after we left I got a call from my office. I had plenty to time to take Sophie home and get to my office for a meeting at three. Why?"
"I just wondered why you didn't come to see me."
"I honestly thought you would be busy or home resting."
"We were still interrogating Jeff Downey."
"Oh really. What did he have to say?"
"He told us pretty much what you already know--about leaving yesterday morning for Chicago, being at the Diplomat Hotel, and so forth."
"Have you checked out his explanations?"
"Do you think the Stafford police are shirking their duties?", he asked lightly. "Of course, we are checking. The airlines confirmed that his ticket was used on the morning flight, and they showed his return flight changed to this morning. Yesterday his flight arrived on time at 10:00 a.m., and he checked into the Diplomat Hotel at 11:35. He rented a car and drove to the hotel, so we have to check on that." "Would it take almost an hour and a half to get from the airport to the hotel?"
"Chicago's a big city, but we are checking the distance from the airport to the hotel."
"Is there anyway to confirm that it was really Jeff who got on the plane?"
"Well, he would have to have had an accomplice, because the ticket was used. We, of course, will send someone out to Walker County Airport with Jeff's picture to see if anyone recognizes him, but it might not be that reliable. Unless he did something unusual or dressed in some strange manner, no one usually pays that much attention when they deal with hoards of people."
"Do you suspect him?"
"He seems to have an airtight alibi for the time being, but we always suspect the spouse first."
"What about Amelia?"
"What about her?"
"You know. Is she a suspect?"
"I can't tell you who all the suspects are. I'm sorry because I know your curiosity is killing you." The timer rang and Mitch shifted his attention to draining the noodles. He placed a tomato basil salad on the table with the stroganoff and bread, refilled Lettie's wineglass, and joined her.
"This looks terrific. I definitely could get used to this. Do you hire out? It's much better than eating a restaurant with a murder mystery for company."
"Are you still reading those? I remember your poking your head in a mystery whenever you had a chance. After all these years, you could have become an expert in the field."
"I have learned a lot about motives, murderers, and solutions. So maybe I can be of help to you in this case."
"You've wounded my ego. Why don't you think I can solve the case of your friend?"
"Oh Mitch, don't get me wrong. I was just joking and offering my services as a lark. Of course, my inquisitive nature might be of some help."
"And it might get you in trouble. Where murder is concerned, you need to leave the snooping to the professionals. Now let's get to the important things at hand. Would you like seconds? You seemed to have gobbled up your dinner."
"I must look like a pig, but the food was so delicious I wolfed it down. You really are a good cook. I'm glad you had insomnia."
"How about seconds?"
"I'd better not. I've probably put on five pounds today alone. In addition to the chocolate doughnuts this morning, I had fresh strawberry pie for lunch at the Ladybug today. I've not done a very good job of watching my weight today."
"I still can eat anything I want. I guess playing handball three times a week helps, and I do have to keep in shape for the job."
"You're the type of person I despise. I used to be able to eat anything, but that has all changed. I guess part of the problem is my age, and when I quit smoking I started gaining weight."
"Oh, I had forgotten about your smoking. I recall now that I wasn't too happy about it at the time, but you were hard headed enough to do it anyway."
"At the time, it was the 'in' thing to do. My friends and I started doing it at parties during my senior year and while I was in college all the girls seemed to be smoking. Of course, we didn't know the dangers back then. It was virtually impossible to quit, but I'm glad I did."
"Well, I was going to offer you dessert, but if you're so concerned with your figure, which I think looks great, I guess we can forgo it for tonight."
"What have you made?"
"I didn't have time to make anything, so I picked up double fudge brownies from the bakery and frozen yogurt."
"That certainly is tempting. Maybe I'll have some later."
"Well, you will take some coffee, I assume. It's hazelnut decaf. I don't want to interfere with my sleep tonight."
Lettie agreed to the coffee, and they moved to the living room after a discussion over who was going to wash the dishes. They agreed that the dishes would wait, and that they needed some time to do some reminiscing.
After several cups of coffee, they gave synopses of their lives over the past several years. Lettie learned that Mitch's divorce was in the works and was amicable, if there were such a thing. His soon to be ex would be selling the home they had shared in Hillside Heights. Both his sons were attending Midwestern University, and they lived in an apartment near campus.
Lettie thought of asking Mitch to list the house but decided that it would be tacky under the circumstances. She was certain that Mitch would retain her services if he felt comfortable about it after the divorce was final. Even though she had been a realtor for years, she felt uncomfortable in being pushy about listing and selling.
The success she had attained in the real estate business was based on hard work and a superior knowledge of her craft. She had a long list of satisfied buyers and sellers, and she garnered many referrals from these same people. If one were betting, they would say Lettie didn't have the personality to be a sales person.
Eventually their conversation returned to the murder investigation.
"I've been wondering if you've found out what Charlotte's will says?"
"I only know what Jeff has told me. He will get the house and twenty-five percent of Williams Lumber Company. He told me Amelia would get seventy-five percent of the business."
"Are you sure that she hadn't amended her will?"
"I'm sure. Mr. Downey mentioned that they kept it in a safe at the house. The way he talked they had a perfectly open relationship regarding all business and personal matters."
"It sounds as though Jeff didn't have as much of a motive as Amelia did, at least concerning the business. Amelia will still be in charge at the lumber company."
"True, but there was a large insurance policy on Charlotte's life for $500,000."
"Really. Well, it sounds like you have two prime suspects for her murder." Lettie began to feel like she had been run over by a truck. The events of the last twenty‑four hours were getting to her body. She looked at her watch and to her amazement it was 10:30 already. The evening had been so enjoyable and enlightening, she hated to go home. She knew that Mitch had to be in worse shape than she was, but he looked remarkably fresh. She hoped she looked as good.
"I should be getting home. I need to be at WE at 8:30 in the morning, and you must be exhausted."
"What's WE?"
"Watkins and Edwards."
"Of course. I remember their ads. WE can find you the perfect home. Clever. Please stay long enough to have a brownie. Sorry it's not homemade, but Home and Hearth Bakery makes great ones." "You're going to cause me to become a fat hog."
"Never. Please stay."
Lettie acquiesced. It wasn't that hard. Mitch and dessert, what a combination. She remained on the couch while Mitch was in the kitchen. She looked at the assortment of magazines on the coffee table. Newsweek, Sports Illustrated, police journals, and crossword puzzle books--a well‑rounded assortment. After a brownie and another cup of coffee, as much as she hated to, Lettie left Mitch's apartment. Her emotions were in a swirl. Mitch had kissed her goodbye. Just a quick kiss on the lips. She was confused as to how to interpret the kiss--was this the start of a relationship or merely a platonic kiss for a good friend.
On the drive home, Lettie realized how stressed she was mentally. Too much had happened, and her mind was ready to shut down for the evening. She walked into her condo and went directly to her bedroom. No knitting tonight. All she wanted to do was get a good night's sleep. Barely having the energy to hang up her discarded clothes, she donned her nightgown and pulled back the peach comforter on her cherry four-poster bed.
After pressing the "on" switch on the remote control, she set the timer on the TV for one hour and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. Her nightly routine included going to bed with the TV which served to drown out strange noises at night.
Her eyes were fluttering shut when she remembered that she hadn't checked her answering machine. If anyone had called, they would have to wait until morning.