1 52 Steps to Murder Read online

  “You’re always trying to complicate my life, aren’t you, Lou?”

  “Sorry, don’t ask next time.”

  “Sherlock Holmes always asked Dr. Watson, and I’ll always ask you. Anyway, let’s get back to our murders. Let’s take our suspects one at a time and see what we know about them and whether or not we can come up with a motive for murder. Let’s start with Miss Penrod. Miss Penrod could have murdered Mrs. Jarvis before going to Mrs. Nelson’s house. Then, she could have waited until Mr. Hartley left, murdered Mrs. Nelson, and sneaked underground back to her own home. That could be why Mr. Silverman didn’t see her leave. Then, she conveniently exited a few minutes later and took a taxi on a prearranged trip. The only problem is ‘what’s her motive?’”

  “Well, there is one other problem, Cy.”

  “What’s that, Lou?”

  “She wouldn’t have had time to drug Mrs. Nelson, wait long enough to murder her, and leave when she did. Have we located Miss Penrod?”

  “No, that’s another thing, Lou. The taxi driver said he dropped off Miss Penrod at the bus station, but then Miss Penrod seems to have disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Few buses left Hilldale that morning, and no one matching Miss Penrod’s description left on a bus bound for anywhere.”

  “Maybe Miss Penrod meant to disappear, Cy.”

  “Maybe she sneaked back home and is hiding inside her house.”

  “The only problem is, how did she get inside her house with no one seeing her? As far as we know, there are no connecting tunnels from adjacent streets, and someone was on the lookout on Hilltop Place all day.”

  “Strike one. Let’s take a look at the rest of the suspects. Next we have Hartley. Maybe Hartley lied to us and he actually left after Miss Penrod, or else he doubled back after Miss Penrod left. Maybe he used his key to Mrs. Jarvis’s house, killed her, and sneaked underground to Mrs. Nelson’s house, where he murdered her, as well. Again, we appear to have no motive, unless we consider Mr. Hartley’s eagerness to become wealthy a motive for murder, but I’m not sure how he would have benefited from her death.

  “Next on the scene, at least as far as we know, is Angela Nelson. While she has an alibi keeping her out of the house until Officer Davis entered the house with her and supposedly didn’t have enough time to murder her grandmother, maybe Officer Davis was wrong in his time estimation and she did have enough time to sneak upstairs. Still, it’s doubtful that Officer Davis could have mistaken fifteen or twenty minutes for a minute or two. On the other hand, while Miss Nelson told us she didn’t expect to inherit her grandmother’s estate, we must assume that she will inherit it until we hear differently. That would give her a motive for murder. Are you with me so far, Lou?”

  “I’m with you, but I’m not ready to make an arrest.”

  “While either of the first two could’ve killed both women within a short period of time, if Miss Nelson is our murderer, she would’ve had to have sneaked back on the street sometime later because she didn’t get here in time to murder Mrs. Jarvis first, and she left with Officer Davis afterwards. Also, if Miss Nelson killed her grandmother, she would’ve had to have done it while Officer Davis was present, wouldn’t have needed access to Mrs. Jarvis’ house to kill her grandmother, and would have no reason to murder Mrs. Jarvis.”

  Lou interrupted me.

  “Still, we have to remember that time is on Miss Nelson’s side. She wasn’t in the house and away from Officer Davis long enough to commit murder, even if she’d planned it.”

  “Her alibi sure does seem good, Lou. That is if we can believe Mr. Silverman and Mrs. Wilkens.”

  “I think we have to believe them, Cy.”

  “Why’s that, Lou?”

  “Remember, the second bolt was locked on the door. Officer Davis verified that.”

  “You’ve got a point, Lou, but maybe she had a magnet and knew how to use it. Still, she couldn’t have done that unless Silverman and Mrs. Wilkens are lying. So, let’s move on to Silverman. Maybe Silverman made up part of what he told us in order to give himself an alibi. Maybe he was so distraught from his own mother’s death that he couldn’t stand to see any other older woman alive. Knowing that both women were alone and defenseless, he sneaked underground and murdered both victims. He could’ve done that without Mrs. Wilkens knowing anything about it. Oh, by the way, I don’t know whether or not I told you, but I looked up Mrs. Silverman’s death in the newspaper. From what I can tell, she died a natural death and was buried in a private ceremony at the Hilltop Valley Cemetery. I looked up the cemetery, but I couldn’t find a listing for it. When we have time, we need to check with Silverman about its location.”

  “You’re forgetting Silverman’s alibi, Cy.”

  “You mean that Mrs. Wilkens had her eye on him?”

  “That’s right.”

  I paused to take in some much needed air before continuing. I was quickly running out of people without an alibi.

  “From Silverman we move on to Mrs. Reynolds and her son Jimmy. Either of them had access to both houses. Plus, we know that Jimmy has a temper because he cold cocked some guy with a shovel. Also, we know that Mrs. Reynolds would do whatever was necessary to protect her son. That only leaves us Hartley, Bobby, the grocery boy, who was probably in the house on the morning of the murder, the maid, and Hornwell, who has no motive that we’re aware of unless he did it to buy their houses.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing, Cy.”

  “What’s that. Lou?”

  “They all have alibis. Bobby was delivering groceries, and the deliveries were timed, the maid was at church with several other women, and Hornwell was out of town when Mrs. Nelson was murdered. He was at his cabin, where there was only one set of tire tracks and footprints, and he stopped in a store on Friday and again on Sunday.”

  “Do you think it’s too late to rule this a suicide?”

  “Just a tad bit, Cy.”

  “So, Lou, what do you think about Bobby? Do you think he was really in the house?”

  “I’d say so, Cy, but unless he was already in the house before Angela Nelson and Officer Davis got there, then he couldn’t be our murderer. My guess is that he spotted the police car and sneaked in to see what was going on.”

  “That’s not very smart.”

  “Regardless of when he entered the house, he’s not very smart if he really was in the house. Speaking of entering the house, it seems like it had to be someone who lives on the street, because I don’t see how anyone else could have gotten in Saturday morning with Mrs. Wilkens and Silverman keeping watch. From where Mrs. Wilkens was situated, I don’t see how anyone could have gotten in any of the houses without her seeing him or her.”

  “That bothers me too, Lou, but we’re running out of suspects. Pretty soon we’re going to have to chalk it up to osmosis.”

  “I don’t think osmosis works that way, Cy. Would you settle for a voodoo doll, instead?”

  “Probably not. How about if I confess to one murder while you confess to the other?”

  Lou gave me the dumb look I deserved.

  “Okay, let’s try something else. Give me a motive for anyone you can think of.”

  Lou leaned back in his chair, gathered his thoughts before speaking.

  “Well, like you said, the granddaughter probably inherits a sizable fortune. At least, from what we’ve heard, Mrs. Nelson was well-heeled. Hartley could’ve been stealing checks that came in the mail and one of the old ladies might’ve caught him, confided in the other, and told him there was another witness and who that witness was. Hornwell could’ve been stealing from Mrs. Nelson. Like you said, Silverman could’ve been devastated by the loss of his mother, and maybe even responsible for her death, and wanted to put an end to other older women. He does seem to be a strange bird who still worships his mother, even though she’s dead. Maybe Miss Penrod was tired of taking care of these older women and felt that they were so bad off they were better off dead. Bobby mig
ht have been stealing from them when he made deliveries, and Jimmy’s mother might be as crazy as he is. Then, there’s the guy downtown who may or may not be crazy and may or may not have needed a motive. I’d say all of our suspects are still intact.”

  “Thanks a lot, Lou. You’ve made our job so much easier.”

  “No problem, oh captain, my captain.”

  “It’s oh lieutenant to you.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “There’s just one thing that’s bothering me.”

  “Only one?”

  “Well, actually there are several, but one in particular. The time element. None of the suspects had enough time with Mrs. Nelson to drug her, wait for it to take effect, and then poison her. The medication was administered forty-five minutes to an hour before the poison. The poison took another fifteen to twenty minutes to take effect. I’m stumped.”

  “Maybe the old lady wasn’t murdered after all. Do you think maybe we’ll appear in the Dumb Detectives segment of Candid Camera?”

  Lou and I continued to decipher all the information we’d gained. Our hard work made us hungry, so we phoned Antonio’s and had the restaurant deliver two foot-long Stromboli steak sandwiches and two large orders of fries with creamy, white gravy.

  Before the food arrived, Sam Schumann phoned.

  “Cy, I’ve got a copy of Mrs. Nelson’s will.”

  “Read it to me.”

  “Okay, Cy, here goes. ‘I, Ethel Marie Nelson, being of sound mind, do make this my last will and testament. I leave to my granddaughter Angela Nelson all of my photographs and any two keepsakes of her choice. At the request of my granddaughter Angela, the two keepsakes are not to exceed five thousand dollars in value, and the house and all of the rest of its belongings are to be sold at auction. To keep the reputation and ambiance of the street intact, the buyer of the house must agree to occupy the premises for a period of no less than ten years or until death, whichever comes first, and must adhere to all the amenities of the neighborhood. All proceeds from the sale are to be split between the American Cancer Society and the American Heart Association.’

  “That’s it except that the will is signed by the deceased and is dated. The will is witnessed and also signed by her attorney, Harry Hornwell, and a witness.”

  I sat there bewildered by what Sam had read.

  “Cy, are you with me?”

  “Yeah, Sam. I was just thinking of the ambiance of my street.”

  Sam chuckled. “You mean the character of your street?”

  “Well, the characters on my street are what give it ambiance.”

  “I’d like to chat all day, Cy, but I have other work to do. Anything else?”

  “No, that’s all, Sam. Thanks. I’ll get back to you later if I think of anything else.”

  I turned and relayed the latest news to Lou who let out a brief whistle.

  “Maybe our suspect list is dwindling, Cy.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Who knows, maybe we’ll have a signed confession before the day’s over.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it, Lou, unless we catch a murderer when we go back tonight. Now, let me take you home so we can get some rest. We might be in for a long night.”

  26

  I woke up and turned over to look at the clock. It was already dark outside, so I had to turn on a light to see the clock. That’s what I get for having an old-fashioned alarm clock. It was 7:37. I had no idea what time the intruder visited Hilltop Place, but I suspected that he or she waited until after much of Hilltop Place had retired for the night. If Lou and I were too late, or if the intruder didn’t come, we would try again the next night. Of course, we hoped to spot the intruder as soon as possible. I sat up, reached for the telephone, and dialed Lou’s number.

  “That you, Cy?” came the expected greeting from the other end of the line.

  “Hello, Sleeping Beauty. I’m calling to tell you that your prince is coming.”

  “That’s fine with me, as long as he doesn’t try to kiss me,” Lou answered.

  “I shudder at the thought,” I replied, then tried a different approach to male bonding. “Are you ready to grab something to eat?”

  “Are the Cubs still in Chicago?”

  “Of course. I don’t know of any other city that would take them.”

  “If the Red Sox can win a World Series, the Cubs will win one too. I’m just not sure if it will happen in my lifetime.”

  “Or mine.”

  “Listen, honorable friend, I’m convinced God will take both of us on the same day. As for tonight Charlie Chan, I’ll pick you and your appetite up in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you so much, number one father.”

  +++

  After we’d devoured everything the Blue Moon had to offer, Lou and I refused a wheelbarrow ride back to Lightning and waddled out on our own. We plopped down in the car, put on our game faces, and tried to prepare for the evening at hand. As we drove toward our nocturnal exercise, I suggested that we park the car on a cross street and sneak down Hilltop Place undetected. While there would be some walking ahead of us, both of us were thankful that there were no inclines in the sidewalk.

  “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” Lou whispered to me as we started down Hilltop Place.

  27

  Just as we reached Mrs. Jarvis’s house, I heard the front door open. I motioned to Lou and we flattened ourselves against the hill. At least, we flattened ourselves as much as possible. If the cloud remained over the moon, and if the person who opened the door was deaf and did not hear a couple of “umphs” when the ground didn’t give way to our stomachs, maybe we would go undetected. In the dark we appeared to be nothing more than a couple of beached whales or front yard landfills.

  I looked up to see if I could identify the creature of the night. A raincoat-clad individual stepped out of the house and closed the door. The lack of moonlight or streetlights kept me from telling any more about the person, and I didn’t have time to sneak over to Stanley Silverman’s to borrow his night-vision binoculars. The two landfills inched over toward the railing. Inching was something we’d always done well. Scurry wasn’t even in our vocabulary.

  The cloud cover remained, but I noticed a pair of dark galoshes coming my way. I tried to time my move and reached out to grab a leg. For once, I moved too quickly. A rubber boot landed on my hand. If the trespasser hadn’t had a hand on the railing, someone would have gone tumbling down the steps, and for a change it wouldn’t have been Lou or me. The surprised intruder stomped on my fingers for good measure, spun around, and scrambled back up the steps. I cried out in pain. Before Lou or I could struggle to our feet, the intruder had rushed back into the Jarvis house, slammed, and locked the door.

  “Quick, Lou! Here’s the key to the Jarvis house. Go up and unlock the door and throw me the keys. Then, I’ll go down to the Nelson house and try to head off whoever it is, just in case Mr., Mrs., or Miss Raincoat tries to exit that way.”

  Lou reached for the railing. The overstuffed detective needed as much assistance as he could get. By the time he got the door opened and flipped the keys back to me, the person in the yellow raincoat had a sizable head start.

  I grabbed hold of the railing with my stomped on fingers and winced. I grasped it again, held on to it, and reached over and picked up the keys where they had landed a couple feet above me in the yard. I grabbed them and pushed myself to a standing position. I turned toward the Nelson house, took a couple of steps, changed my mind, and headed the other way. I had another idea and hoped I wasn’t making a mistake.

  I labored with each step and made it back to my VW as quickly as I could. I grabbed the police radio, called in, and gave John, the dispatcher, the home phone numbers of all our suspects who didn’t live on Hilltop Place. I wanted to see if I could trim our list of suspects. No one could answer his or her home phone, while trying to elude Lou. I didn’t bother with anyone who lived on Hilltop Place. I figured that any of them would have h
ad time to get home via the underground. My only hope remained with the five suspects who would’ve had to have traveled some distance to get there.

  While I waited for an answer, I drove the car and parked it in Mrs. Nelson’s driveway. I toyed with whether to wait for a response or climb the steps of the Nelson house. I was already out of breath. I decided to give John a couple more minutes.

  John returned my call, but the response I wanted wasn’t the one I received. He reported that he’d received a recorded message when he dialed Hartley and Mrs.Murphy. A woman answered at Bobby’s house and informed him that Bobby was out on a date. A woman who identified herself as Mrs. Hornwell said her husband was working late.

  Only Angela Nelson had answered the call. John told me the young woman seemed a little out of breath. I made sure I had given John her home number and not her cell phone number. When he confirmed that I had, I figured maybe she had been exercising. Who knows? Maybe she has to work out to keep her body looking so good. At any rate, she couldn’t be the person in the raincoat. Not only did she live too far away to make it home so soon, but I would’ve seen anyone leaving any house on the street.

  It was a good try, but I only trimmed our suspect list slightly more than I trimmed my waistline. I stepped out of the car and rushed toward the steps of Mrs. Nelson’s house.

  By the time I navigated all the steps, I was breathing heavily. I paused for a moment and walked over and inserted the key in the lock. My twist-and-push was fruitless. Why didn’t we take time to force our way in when we were there earlier? Or would it have done us any good? I paced back and forth on the front porch trying to decide what to do. As I retraced my steps, I stuck a fingernail in my mouth and bit down. In no time at all I’d given myself a cheap manicure. I contemplated whether to remain on the porch in case the raincoat-clad intruder came out through the front door or to head back to the car to get some implement to help me pry away the plywood that still covered the front window. I decided to tackle the window with my chubby little hands, but had no success. I looked for more fingernails to chew, but God had given me only ten, and I’d mangled them so well that no white was visible. I thought about going to the car to pick up my burglary tools, but I wasn’t sure if I’d live through another rigorous experience.