2 Murder in the Winter Read online

  Lou and I discussed our plan. Just like before, we would begin with Mrs. Crouch. We planned to show the pictures to everyone and watch his or her eyes and body movements to determine if anyone was lying to us. We also planned to ask each person if he or she had had a visitor that day, or knew of anyone else who had.

  Forty-five minutes later, we had finished, but appeared no closer to solving the murder. Mrs. Crouch recognized no one except for Phelps. Just like before, Arthur Rothschild was lying on his couch, his wheelchair nearby. The only picture he was able to identify was Sidney Longworth, who had directed him in many plays. Martin Mulroney appeared nervous at the sight of us, but no more so when he shuffled through the photographs. Having been at the inn in two costumes, of course he recognized Mr. and Mrs. Longworth. He must have had a good eye for people, because he also recognized the Mitchusons and Justin, our server. Virgil Profitt, who claimed to be new to the area, recognized no one. And last, Tony McArthur, who seemed as happy to see us and as comfortable with our visit as he had on our previous encounters, recognized the same people that Mulroney recognized. Our visit had uncovered nothing new, or had it? No one’s answer caused a red flag to wave violently before my eyes. And no one claimed to have had a morning visitor, or to have heard anyone visiting any of the other residents. The only person Mrs. Crouch heard enter the building was the mailman, and he parked out front. While she couldn’t be certain, she was fairly sure no one else had entered the building that day.

  +++

  Lou and I sat in Lightning in front of Oppenheimer Arms, wondering if our visit made anyone uncomfortable. All but one of the people we had questioned were actors. Supposedly, good actors. I assume that a good actor can hide his feelings better than an everyday murderer. Still, no murderer, even one who is an actor, is a match for Dekker and Murdock.

  After Lou and I spent a few minutes in silence, gathering our thoughts, we talked, to see if either of us picked up on anything that might help us solve the murders. The best we could come up with was an idea to stake out the apartment building, to see who might have visited in the dead of night. As we contemplated that move, neither of us were eager to sit in Lightning freezing half the night, or to pitch a tent in the parking lot and alert our visitor that stupid police were freezing to death under his nose. Neither did we want to borrow a key to any of the deceased’s apartments, thus alerting Mrs. Crouch of what we were up to. We didn’t think she had murdered anyone, but we wanted to keep our plans to ourselves.

  We remembered that the department owned a RV which had been used for surveillance on occasion. Actually, someone had donated it and taken a tax write off. If we signed out for it, and parked it in the parking lot behind the apartment building next door, it wouldn’t appear suspicious to anyone who visited Oppenheimer Arms and any of its residents in the middle of the night. Could it be that someone at Oppenheimer Arms had an accomplice, and waited until all of the other residents had bedded down for the night before calling someone and giving the “all clear” signal? If so, I doubted if anyone would bother to peruse the parking area next door, and if he or she did, I doubted if an RV would arouse suspicion. He or she would merely think that one of the old people next door had company from out of town. Maybe a son or daughter.

  Neither of us had any idea when someone might visit, but if someone did, we figured that he or she would try to sneak in and out while most of the world slept. With an RV, part of that sleeping world could be one of us. Lou and I could take turns staking out the property next door, and take turns sleeping.

  Content on our next plan of action, I steered Lightning away from the apartment building, and headed to find my good friend, Milton Arbogast, who was in charge of all the surveillance equipment for the department, among his other job descriptions.

  He asked when we needed it, and for how long. I told him if it was ready we could take it then, and we wanted to use it until we found our man.

  Lou and I walked around back to the fenced-in area that held extra vehicles. We were eager to look the RV over. The department had only one RV, so it wasn’t hard for us to find it. I inserted the key Arbogast had given me, unlocked the vehicle, and motioned for Lou to go first. Not expecting any danger, he agreed, and stepped up into the camper.

  The thick curtain between the front seats and the rest of the RV helped hide the equipment inside, as well as keep any of the outside world from seeing the lighted area in the back, and knowing if anyone was inside. Lou and I were busy checking out the refrigerator, trying to see how much it would hold, when Arbogast opened the door to see how much we knew about the workings of the RV. We both admitted that we knew little. Arbogast spent the next few minutes walking us through the unit. The only thing different about the department’s RV and a normal one was that the one that belonged to the department had an area halfway back with a control panel to use in surveillance. Both Lou and I had planned to use our eyes to watch, but Arbogast said it would be better if we sat in the back undetected, flipped the switch on the panel, and watched on the monitor while we listened through the speakers. Both of us were apprehensive about using modern technology, so Arbogast said we should keep it simple. All we needed to do was flip a couple of switches, and maneuver a joystick to position and reposition the outside camera. After playing with the gizmos for a few minutes, we reluctantly agreed to give it a try.

  I parked Lightning in a suitable spot, gave her a couple of pats as if to say that I’d be back soon, then drove around the lot a couple of times until I became familiar with how to steer the RV.

  With the unit secured, two hungry cops headed to the grocery to stock the camper’s refrigerator. A whole night without food can be a long time if one has to spend part of his time doing nothing but staying awake and acting like a Peeping Tom.

  +++

  I dropped Lou off at his place, so that the two of us could take naps before our long night. After Lou got out of the RV, he leaned in and told me that he would be willing to sacrifice and stay home if I would rather take Miss Lovely or Miss Humphert with me on the stakeout. After he shut the door, I contemplated dropping back by headquarters to see if anyone had confiscated any poison. Surely, no one other than Thelma Lou could possibly miss Lou Murdock.

  +++

  “Oh, Cyrus,” a grating voice roared from behind me. “You’ve decided to surprise me. You rented a motor home so the two of us can go away for the weekend.”

  I turned to face my neighbor.

  “I’d be willing to buy one if you’d go away forever.”

  “Oh, Cyrus, are you proposing to me and Twinkle Toes?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Humphert, but bigamy has been outlawed in this state, but if I have to choose between the two of you, I’ll take the mutt.”

  “Oh, Cyrus, I always knew you loved Twinkle Toes as much as she loves you.”

  “Actually, I’ve recently met someone who does testing on animals. You have no idea how many volts they can shoot into such a little animal. Some of them actually live through the first test, although they’re never the same again.”

  “Nor will I be the same after spending a weekend with you. Where are we going?”

  “How about Bora Bora? You and Muffy go ahead and I’ll fly out later to meet you. And don’t pay any attention to the sign ‘Shark Infested Waters.’ They just put those signs up so the place won’t get too crowded. Just remember to throw Muffy in first, and if she doesn’t come back, jump in after her. Now, I don’t want to keep you. Hurry on.”

  “Oh, Cyrus, you can keep me as long as you want.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the number of places I can think of where I’d like to keep you.”

  “Oh, Cyrus, you are so romantic.”

  I couldn’t take any more. I needed to get inside before she jumped me and started nibbling on my ear.

  +++

  I rushed inside and called Sam. He had just gotten back from playing name that non-celebrity. Not one person had identified any of our suspects. Whoever we were d
ealing with was very good at what he or she did.

  +++

  “I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way to pick you up, as long as you refrain from any of those comments about me and some woman.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that you and Betty aren’t on speaking terms.”

  “I’m talking about those other women. The ones you keep associating with me.”

  “Oh, you mean Miss Ugly and Miss Lovely?”

  “Exactly. And one of the aforementioned nearly jumped me when I showed up driving an RV.”

  I heard laughing on the other end, then a response.

  “Maybe it’s time to tell her that you’ve found someone else.”

  “No thanks. I’d rather lose this one.”

  +++

  We arrived at the corner apartment building a little before 9:00. I parked around the corner and sent Lou to see if there was a large enough space to park near the Oppenheimer building. He came back and nodded. As I eased down the driveway, hoping not to arouse any of the residents in either building, I smiled as I turned the corner and saw the open space before me. It was as if everyone knew we were coming and had left enough space for me to park. I even had room to turn around when it came time to leave.

  Lou and I sprinted to the back as quickly as we could. Lou plopped down in front of the control panel while I searched the refrigerator and cabinets for things to eat. Not wanting too much mess, we refrained from buying anything that needed to be cooked. I opened a can of Vienna sausages, took out a package of crackers, opened a jar of sweet pickles, and ripped open a bag of Frito’s. Then, it was just a matter of pulling out a couple of Diet Pepsis, and eating junk food until it was time to fix the ice cream sundaes. To make the occasion seem more festive, we bought hot fudge, caramel, and marshmallow toppings, peanuts, pecans, a can of whipped cream, and maraschino cherries. If we were going to have to stay out all night, we were going to do so in style.

  While I was working on munchies, Lou took out the sheet of paper containing his notes, turned the panel on, and familiarized himself with which knobs to turn and buttons to push. By the time I’d filled up two plates with food and poured soft drinks in two ample-sized, plastic, ice-filled glasses, Lou had maneuvered the camera to where he had a good view of the parking lot next door. We ate and talked until 10:00, at which time we flipped a coin to see who had the first watch. I took the first two hour watch, while Lou got comfy on the bed in the back.

  At 4:00 a.m., as I woke Lou for his second watch, I had sat through two watches and Lou one without any hint that anyone else was alive. I settled down for my second nap of the night, a nap that would be shorter than the first.

  +++

  I felt Lou shake me.

  “Cy, we’ve got a nibble.”

  I rubbed my eyes, tried to wake up.

  “What’s that, Lou?”

  “Some guy just pulled in behind the apartment building next door. I watched him a minute, but he’s just sitting there. Hasn’t gotten out. Just sits there. I don’t know if he spotted me, or not.”

  “Good work, Lou. Let’s watch him. See if he gets out.”

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “Let’s just be patient and see.”

  The two of us sat there watching the SUV that pulled in. We couldn’t really see the guy, but he hadn’t gotten out yet. He just sat there. I decided to give him ten minutes, and then if he didn’t move, I’d start the RV, move out slowly, block the driveway to Oppenheimer Arms, then walk down the drive and corral the guy. There had to be some reason why he chose to go to that particular apartment building in the middle of the night. My guess was he was the same guy who had been there before. I looked at my watch. It was 5:12. Too early for any decent person to come calling on any of the neighbors. None of the apartments in the back had their lights on, so if anyone expected this guy, it had to be someone in front. Or could it be that no one was tipping his hand until the guy went inside? Or maybe the darkness inside meant that all was not clear? Had someone spotted us?

  After seven minutes, the guy next door got out of his vehicle, went inside. He was carrying something, but from where we sat I couldn’t tell what it was. Neither could Lou. As soon as our suspect went inside, I made a move.

  “Lou, I’m going to pull around front and block the drive. If he doesn’t come out within a couple of minutes, we’ll go in after him.”

  I backed up to turn around, so I could pull out of the driveway. Once I accomplished that, I pulled out onto the street and positioned the RV so the guy couldn’t get out of the driveway, then went back to join Lou with surveillance. We would give him a couple of minutes, watch him on the monitor if he came toward us. Just a few minutes after I joined Lou in the back, I saw headlights flashing across the back of the building. The guy was leaving. Boy would he be in for a surprise as soon as he turned up the driveway and saw us blocking his exit. Halfway up the driveway, the guy must’ve spotted us. He hit the brakes slightly, flashed his lights off and on, and then cut them off. I looked at Lou, wondered what our visitor’s next move would be. Would he just sit there? Would he ram us? Would he back down the driveway, or get out and start running? He sat there for a few minutes, contemplating his move. In our excitement, I hit the joystick, and knocked the camera off course. Because of an overhanging limb that hung down from a tree near the street, we hadn’t gotten a good look at the SUV up to that point. We knew that it was an SUV, nothing more. Lou frantically tried to reposition the camera by moving the joystick, but the camera must’ve gotten stuck in a tree limb. Our mishap prevented us from knowing that our visitor had crept forward edging closer to us. I lunged forward toward the passenger side window, hoping to slide the window open a few inches, and stick my hand out to free the camera from the tree limb. Before I could accomplish this, our unknown visitor hit the gas, cut hard left at the sidewalk, barreled down the walkway in the opposite direction from the way we were headed, and turned left at the first street. I managed to get to the door just as he turned onto the connecting street. As quickly as I could, I freed the camera, stumbled over to the driver’s seat, turned the vehicle around, and pursued our fleeing nocturnal visitor.

  We turned onto the street our pursuant took. Naturally, he was already out of sight. I spent fifteen minutes looking for the guy, but to no avail. Maybe Louie, our department expert, could tell something from the pictures, although I expected little help from those pictures. Maybe a black-and-white spotted the guy driving like a madman and pulled him over. I called the department, ran a check on the guy, but no one in the traffic division had encountered any suspicious drivers. Maybe our guy had pulled into a nearby driveway and hid until we passed. Then he drove off the other way like nothing had happened.

  Frustrated, I drove back to Oppenheimer Arms, and parked around the corner. Lou and I got out, noticed no lights coming from any of the apartments, and walked to the rear of the apartment building. The MO was the same. I was sure whoever our visitor was, he was the same person who had done this before. But why? Was he engaged in illegal activities with someone at Oppenheimer Arms? If so, who? No one gave himself away by turning on the lights when our visitor arrived. And when I pulled around to the front, all of the windows were still dark. There was nothing for us to do but go home and crawl into bed.

  30

  I hate stakeouts. No homicide detective should have to do them. I threw off the covers at 10:07 Saturday morning, still tired. A few hours earlier, on the way to take Lou to his place, we contemplated doing another stakeout the next night, but we figured our visitor wouldn’t return so soon. If he had a rendezvous with someone at Oppenheimer Arms, my guess is they would either hold off for a few days, or look for a new location. Lou and I decided to get some sleep, then head downtown to see what evidence our camera might have for us. Our worst case scenario was to check with DMV and identify all the people in Hilldale who owned SUVs. Surely, there weren’t that many. I didn’t want to consider that our visitor was someone from out of town. Besid
es, he’d been around too many times lately to be someone from a distance. If the pictures or DMV checks didn’t shed some light on the case, Lou and I would consider talking to SUV owners in surrounding counties.

  After stumbling around the house for a few minutes, I remembered what a fool idea Lou and I had tried the night before. Everything came back to me. Everything that I knew up to that point. We had our puzzle together except one small part. The identity of our murderer. In time, we would accomplish that, and put this case to bed.

  As I showered, I relived the night before. At least the parts when I was awake. I questioned whether or not to mention to Thelma Lou that Lou snores. I also wondered about embellishing the story. When I tell the story, I wondered if I should I mention that I pushed the RV out of the way of the oncoming freight train, thus saving Lou’s life? And should Lou and I be up for raises after saving the department tons of money by saving all that equipment? I must’ve spent too much time thinking about it. I was shocked back into the present when I noticed freezing water causing chills to spread over my entire body. A big area for chills, I must say.

  I called Lou, who had been up for over an hour, and told him that I would pick him up in a few minutes, and that we would make a dash for the Blue Moon in order to get our brains working well enough to solve the case. Lou agreed with my strategy.

  +++

  After we added a few pounds of food to our insides, two reinvigorated policemen hastened to headquarters, hoping to find out the identity of our almost assailant.