1 52 Steps to Murder Read online

“I’m still not convinced. Let’s take a break and mull it over for a few minutes.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Lou said, already removing his M&Ms from his pocket.

  15

  We hadn’t found a passageway. We trudged through each downstairs room before we climbed the steps to the second floor. Once upstairs, we concentrated on Mrs. Nelson’s bedroom and her bedroom closet in particular. Lou and I tried any idea we came up with. I removed everything that hung in the closet. I hoped to find a hidden lever. When my efforts didn’t reveal any button, device, or contraption, I removed all the shoes from the closet floor. I wanted so much to find a loose board. Lou located a chair and dislodged all items from the closet shelf. He even pulled on the chain that turned on the closet light, as he hoped some action would cause a wall to slide away revealing a hidden stairway. When the sergeant left the closet defeated, I took a turn and twisted the bar that held the hangers. At least, I tried to twist it. Again, no such luck. Neither of us found anything that revealed a secret passageway. We slumped over and dejectedly made our way back down the stairs.

  I plopped down and leaned back in an overstuffed chair and let the most-recent chocolate melt in my mouth. I tried to sort through all the information we had turned up. Finally, an idea came to me.

  “We still haven’t found Mrs. Jarvis. We don’t know where she is or even if she’s still living. Maybe if we give her place another once-over we might get a clue. Let’s check out her pantry and see how it compares to the one in this house. Could be we’ll find a secret passageway and maybe we’ll find Mrs. Jarvis in it.”

  Lou didn’t want to rain on my parade, so he failed to remind me of our recent lack of success. Instead, he lifted his tired body from the chair that bore his impression. As he did, the chair breathed a sigh of relief.

  We returned to Mrs. Jarvis’s house, and soon found ourselves in front of a pantry much like the one we had just left. Having already been through the routine, we started removing cans and jars. When we’d finished, we discovered a startling revelation.

  “Lou, what do you think the odds are of finding a stuck jar of olives in two pantries?”

  “Astronomical.”

  “I think we have two jars of olives that are trying to tell us something.”

  I approached the jar of olives not content to let them beat me. Once again I tried to remove the jar, but to no avail. Next, I tried to scoot the olives, but they wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t lift or scoot them, so I tried to push the olives toward the wall. I had hoped to release a hidden spring or lock. Although I couldn’t see how it would help, I took both hands and pushed down on the jar. With still no success, I slid my gloved hand across the board below the olives. Once again, I hoped to trip some secret mechanism. Nothing worked. Frustrated, I sat down in a kitchen chair.

  “I give up, Lou. Any ideas?”

  “How about ‘in case of exit, break jar?’”

  “I’ve wanted to break it ever since I found it, but that can’t be how it’s done. I’m sure whoever devised this didn’t break a jar of olives every time he wanted to use the secret passageway.”

  “Well, we can always go with my other suggestion. Eat them.”

  A light went on inside my head. At least, Lou’s comment gave me an inspiration.

  “You know, Lou. You might have something there.”

  “You’re not serious about eating the olives, are you?”

  “Not eating them, but we’ve done everything except twist the lid.”

  No sooner had the words come out of my mouth until another set of words hit me. Twist and Shout. I rushed over and twisted the jar lid counter-clockwise. Nothing happened. The lid didn’t budge.

  “Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone used it,” Lou said, hoping to offer a little encouragement.

  “But if our theory is right, it hasn’t been that long since someone used it,” I replied.

  “Well, then try turning it the other way.”

  Since all jars opened counter-clockwise, I never thought about turning the jar clockwise. Once again, I put my hand on the lid. This time I twisted the lid in the other direction. The lid did not budge, but the wall of the pantry moved to one side. Lou and I jumped up and down like a couple of children who had just spotted Santa Claus.

  “Come on, Lou. Let’s follow God’s directions.”

  I began to dance. I started twisting and Lou could contain himself no longer. He too began to twist. Until we became exhausted, two middle-aged men twisted, bumped hips, raised both hands into the air, and shouted. The lack of an audience spared us the embarrassment of the moment. After only a couple of minutes, we gasped for air as if we’d just climbed the front steps, again. We staggered over to the nearest chairs, plopped down, and waited until we could breathe normally again. Only two days passed.

  Still in a jovial mood, I removed a brand new candy bar from my pocket, unwrapped it, took out my knife, and cut an almond and some chocolate from the center of the candy bar. After I put it in my mouth and savored it like it was a fine wine, I put the chocolate-framed peephole up to my eye and looked at Lou.

  He stuck out his tongue, and then removed an M&M from his bag. It was a peanut M&M and the one Lou removed was yellow.

  He held it up and showed it to me.

  “Look, Cy. It’s Tweetie.”

  “The car’s name is Lightning.”

  The sergeant said, “Whatever,” and threw the yellow M&M at my peephole. It bounced off my forehead and landed on the floor. I leaned over, picked it up, and threw it back at Lou, who caught it in his mouth. Here we were two grown men acting like little boys as we celebrated our success. When the moment passed, we returned to work, but with a renewed spirit, as if we’d actually accomplished something.

  “Before we check out the hidden staircase, let’s call the lab boys again.”

  +++

  In a little while, the Jarvis house was once again protruding with policemen. Their search turned up many secret passageways that led to places all over the house, places that appeared well hidden to the naked eye. They found dust and cobwebs, and the lack of footprints ahead of them revealed that they were the first persons to enter those passageways in many years. There was no sign of Mrs. Jarvis.

  “I want to try the same thing at the Nelson house. I think we might find another passageway, and I think we’ll find that someone has been high stepping there.”

  16

  Stanley Silverman peered out his window. He watched as Lou and I led a posse of policemen up the street to Mrs. Nelson’s house. Jimmy Reynolds watched too, but from the safety of his front porch instead of the nearest tree.

  Once inside, Lou gave me a look, as if to say, If this thing works, don’t start twisting again. I like my job. I returned the look, as if to tell Lou, You have nothing to worry about.

  I led the parade to the pantry and was ecstatic when I twisted the olive jar and watched the back wall slide away.

  “It’s all yours, boys,” I said as I turned to face my compatriots.

  +++

  Many people know Lou and I excel at eating, or grazing, as some call it. Fewer know that we have mastered the art of sitting. Neither of us has a wife to refine us, so each of us had to discover his own method. Most people think we learned from each other. Both of us have learned how to zero in on a chair, lumber over to it, plop down onto it, and sprawl out all over it. It is truly an art that no woman can understand.

  On that occasion, even though we didn’t have long to sprawl, Lou and I plopped down in a couple of chairs that beckoned to us. We eagerly anticipated more success than we had at the previous house. Some time later, an expert approached us with his team’s findings.

  “We’ve found a little evidence, Lieutenant, but not much. We discovered one set of footprints, which came from the closet in the old lady’s bedroom. Our guess is whoever made them went up the steps in the living room, but came down through the passageway. There were a few more sets just inside the pantry.”


  I was puzzled.

  “There were no footprints leading up to the bedroom through the passageway? And there weren’t any leading to or from any other room?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. That’s all we found.”

  “Well, can you tell anything about the tracks near the pantry?”

  “That’s another strange thing. There are only a few of them, and all of them came from a size eleven pair of galoshes, but not all of them came from the pair you found in the pantry.”

  “So we either have two people with size eleven feet, or one person with two pair of galoshes.”

  “Not necessarily, Lieutenant. It could have been someone with smaller feet, or someone with slightly larger feet who removed their shoes.”

  “Anything else, Sergeant?”

  “Well, there’s one thing that bothers me. The cobwebs have been there for quite some time, but there’s some dirt that appears to be a recent addition. The thing is that I’ve sent men around the exterior of the house, and it doesn’t look like the dirt came from anywhere in this yard. Also, there’s no dirt in the house that matches the dirt in the passageway.”

  “Can you tell if it matches the dirt we found at Mrs. Jarvis’s house?”

  “Not yet. But it looks similar.”

  “Is it possible that there are additional passageways you haven’t found, maybe even ones below the house? Maybe the dirt came from there.”

  “Sure, that’s possible, Lieutenant.”

  “Well, thanks, and be sure to thank your men. You can go now. Sgt. Murdock and I will lock up when we’re finished.”

  +++

  Lou and I sat in Mrs. Nelson’s house trying to figure out what we were missing. Surely, there was another clue waiting to be discovered.

  “Lou, we have one woman murdered, another woman missing or murdered, and a passageway with dirt but no bodies in it. Any ideas?”

  “Someone keeps leaving us clues, but how many of them have to do with this case and how many are red herrings?”

  “It makes me think of something else, too. If our murderer’s only intent was to kill Mrs. Nelson, he or she could have easily used a pillow. She wouldn’t have been able to fight off someone. Also, depending on how good of a job he or she did, it’s possible that we might’ve thought that she’d merely died in her sleep. I still think that our murderer wants to play games with us.”

  “I see what you mean, Cy.”

  “Here’s what we know. Mrs. Nelson was given some pain medication and sleeping pills, and then, after they had taken effect, she was murdered. The lab agrees that the poison came from the glass on the floor beside her bed. We know that someone pushed a wheelchair in Mrs. Jarvis’s basement, probably with Mrs. Jarvis in it, but the wheelchair and the footprints disappeared just like the footprints in the passageway behind Mrs. Nelson’s pantry. No one tried to cover his or her tracks after Mrs. Nelson was murdered, so whoever did it didn’t mind us knowing that a murder had been committed. My guess is that two murders have been committed, because I believe that Mrs. Jarvis is dead. I also believe that there’s a tunnel of some type underneath this street. It’s just a matter of how to find it.”

  Lou and I trudged up and down the steps inside the secret passageway for thirty more minutes, but our efforts revealed nothing. When neither of us came up with any new ideas, we both chalked it up to hunger, and headed to the Blue Moon Diner.

  I checked my watch, and as hard as it was for me to prolong my eating quest, we stopped to talk to Mrs. Murphy on the way to eat. I knocked on the door of the small frame house. A woman with light gray hair pulled back and secured with bobby pins answered the door. Her smile went well with her rosy cheeks. I showed my identification and found out the woman was Mrs. Murphy. I told her I had a few questions for her.

  “Of course, Lieutenant, but my feet ache. I’ve had a busy day today. Would you mind if we sat down and talked?” asked the woman with a voice that sounded like she had just arrived from Ireland.

  We agreed and followed the woman with the puzzled look.

  “Mrs. Murphy, I understand that you clean houses for a living.”

  “Aye, that’s right. Surely someone hasn’t complained about my work.”

  “Not that I know of,” I replied, and then laughed. “Of course, if they did, there wouldn’t be any cause for me to be here. I’m in the homicide division.”

  “Oh, you must be here about poor Mrs. Nelson.”

  “That’s right, Mrs. Murphy. I understand her house was one of the houses you cleaned regularly.”

  “Aye, that’s right, Lieutenant. And I will miss her so.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Friday morning, when I did my regular cleaning. I went up and visited with her a few minutes, then went right to work.”

  “And do you also clean for Mrs. Jarvis?”

  “Aye, that I do.”

  “And did you see her on Friday, too?”

  “Aye, of course, Lieutenant. Mrs. Jarvis never goes anywhere.”

  “Was there anything different about last Friday?”

  “Only that Mrs. Nelson was in bed. My daughter and I got to her house at nine. We cleaned. When my daughter is with me, not only do we clean, but we move the furniture and clean and sweep under it and behind it. We finished at Mrs. Nelson’s around 11:30, ate the lunch we brought, and then went to Mrs. Jarvis’s. Mrs. Nelson is always kind enough to let us eat our lunch at her house.”

  “And how was Mrs. Jarvis on Friday?”

  “Same as always. Has something happened to her, too?”

  “I’m not sure. We can’t find her.”

  “Can’t find Mrs. Jarvis? Why Mrs. Jarvis never goes anywhere. Maybe she just didn’t want to answer the door.”

  “Maybe that’s it,” I answered, not wanting to reveal all that I knew.

  “Have you ever been in Mrs. Jarvis’s basement?”

  “Aye, of course, Lieutenant. I do Mrs. Jarvis’s laundry. The basement is where she keeps the washer and dryer.”

  “And did you do Mrs. Jarvis’s laundry last Friday?”

  “Aye, of course, Lieutenant. Don’t tell me someone’s stolen her laundry?”

  I laughed.

  “No, Mrs. Murphy. Was the basement light working last Friday?”

  “Aye, of course, Lieutenant. At my age I wouldn’t be able to see in the basement in the dark.”

  “One other thing, Mrs. Murphy. Where were you on Saturday morning?”

  “I was at church all morning. A meeting. There were a lot of women there.”

  I thanked Mrs. Murphy for her time, and Sgt. Murdock and I left to tackle some food at the Blue Moon Diner.

  Rosie’s shift had ended, so Thelma waited on two detectives who acted as if we hadn’t eaten in days. Thelma, fairly new to the Blue Moon, had only waited on us a couple of times.

  “I understand Rosie calls you two Dick Tracy Squared. Mind if I call you that, too?”

  “Call us whatever you like as long as you call us when the food’s ready,” I replied.

  “So what can I get you? Our specials are Salisbury steak smothered in onions, and beef stroganoff.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I replied.

  “Which one?”

  “You mean I don’t get both?”

  “I’d be glad to bring you both.”

  “Naw, just bring me the Salisbury steak and bring him the beef stroganoff. That way I can have some of both.”

  Lou was used to my habit of straying from my own plate. He didn’t care. What worked for one worked for the other.

  In a few minutes Thelma plopped down two full plates and stood back as she watched the two of us eat off each other’s plates. It gave Thelma a chance to experience male bonding in one of its cruder forms. Lou and I figuratively licked our platters clean, but refrained from literally doing so. Thelma returned to find out our choice of dessert. She had been told not to ask us if we wanted desert, but what kind. Lou ordered a banana split. I couldn�
�t decide between lemon meringue and chocolate pie, so I opted for a piece of each. Lou chuckled as I twisted my tongue in every direction in order to lick sticky meringue from around my lips. I pointed out the small circles of hot fudge syrup that adorned the counter. I had no idea how it had missed my friend’s shirt on its way to the counter. After letting our desserts settle for a few minutes, Lou and I paid our checks. Thelma appeared at the register to take our money.

  “The boss likes it when we get men in this place with appetites like yours.”

  “Well, a man really needs to keep up his strength when he’s working on a case like we are,” I answered.

  “Oh, and what case is that?” Thelma asked, as she tried to find out what we were involved in.

  “One for the police department,” I answered.

  Thelma smiled and gave us our change. Then, Lou and I went back to the counter and left a tip.

  Tired from all the work we had done, Lou and I decided to rest until the next day, hoping that a good night’s sleep might supply us with new ideas.

  17

  On our way to Lou’s apartment, he and I discussed what we would do when we got home. Lou said he planned to lumber into his apartment, kick off his shoes, plop down, and lean back in his recliner while he decided what he would do until bedtime. For years, Lou had talked about reading some of the great classic novels. He learned about some organization that had compiled a list of what they considered the top one hundred novels of all time.

  After we wrapped up our last case, on one of our slow days Lou had me drive him to our local bookstore, where he plucked a few titles from the shelves.

  I looked forward to hearing Lou’s book reviews almost as much as I did his messages from God. Lou began his conquest by reading a novel told from the point of view of one of literature’s most beloved characters, Scout, from To Kill A Mockingbird. Lou called it “a delightful book,” and voiced his disappointment that Harper Lee never wrote a second book. Lou said no one could make you feel for his or her characters like Lee could, and Lou embraced Scout, Tom Robinson, and Boo Radley, and if Lou had to go to court, he wanted Atticus Finch by his side.