“He’s in a meeting,” I said. “Come on out to the porch with me for a few minutes. He’ll be out shortly. Smoke if you got ‘em.”
“Ain’t that what they always say in war movies just before something goes down?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said, “just sit then. I’ll be right back; I think I see somebody I know.” I left her on the porch and walked out to the unmarked car parked on the street. The police officer Trevor had brought with him was leerily sipping coffee from a paper cup as he watched me approach. I leaned on the door-frame and spoke in a hushed tone to the uniformed man. “Officer,” I said, “I just thought I’d give you a tip. Do you see that Fiero parked on the street? Well, if you run the plate, you may find something interesting. It’s okay, don’t get up. Just trust me, you won’t regret it. That woman in the sunglasses on the wicker chair there is the owner.”
I walked back to the porch, and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go tell what’s-his-name Schwartz that you’re waiting.”
“Hey,” she said, “was that a cop you were talking to?”
“Yes,” I said, “but don’t worry. You’re legally parked this time.”
I went back into the dining room and interrupted. “Excuse me,” I said. “That woman is here to see you about selling you her car. Should I show her in?”
“Momentarily,” Schwartz said. “Detective Johns, would you excuse us please? I have to speak with Officer Yitzosky privately. Perhaps Ms. Hoskin will be so kind as to introduce you to our visitor.”
Trevor stood, his hair dropping in his face as he leaned forward; and he followed me into the hall. As we passed the study, I asked Trevor if he would wait inside. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to that visitor?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “It’s a woman, and I want to keep you all to myself.”
“You know,” he said, “if Schwartz is really planning to wrap this up today, you’ll have no reason to stick around, but I’d like it if you could stay maybe just one extra night. Me and the other Blues Whailers have a gig tomorrow night. Maybe you’d like to come as my guest?”
I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “We can discuss it later,” I said. He shrugged and walked into Schwartz’s den as I walked back out onto the verandah. The timing was good, because it was at that moment that the uniform was walking onto the porch. “Excuse me, miss,” the officer was saying to the thug who owned the Fiero that he believed had been stolen from the city impound, “could I speak with you for a moment?”
“Officer,” I said, “I think you should talk with the one that brought you before you start making another date.”
“What?” he asked. “Oh, right. Can I speak with detective Johns?”
“He was in the dining room,” I said. “That’s just down the hall to the left.” The uniform had started to enter when I cleared my throat. He turned to see what I wanted, and I tipped my head at his subject.
“Oh, right,” he said. Then speaking to thug-girl, he said, “I’m sorry, miss. Would you come with me please?”
Even behind the dark glasses, I could see her brow develop ridges, but what else could she do? She went with him. As they passed the study door with Johns behind, I held my breath in hope that my Ish wouldn’t pull a groundhog. He didn’t. He stayed put, so I stayed fast on the heels of my charges.
We entered the dining room, and the uniform surveyed the room looking for his Detective. “Sergeant Yitzosky,” he said informing me for the first time as to Jimmy’s rank, “excuse me, but have you seen Detective Johns?”
“He should be on the porch,” Jimmy said.
I whispered into the officer’s ear, “There’s a back porch. You’d better hurry. We’ll watch her.” He turned and left us all behind turning left toward the back of the house. “Well,” I said to the woman in the dark glasses, “you know, we don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Brenda,” she said huffily.
“Well, Brenda,” I said, “this is Sergeant James Yitzosky of the city narcotics division. Schwartz thought it would be a good idea for him to be here this morning.”
“Narcotics division?” Brenda said. Her face turned pale as she began putting things together in what passed for her brain. Suddenly she pushed me to the ground and ran for the door. That was the first snag I hadn’t hurdled. I had not expected for her to actually flee. As I tumbled, I shouted, “Officer! She’s running!” Jimmy, who had moved to the far side of the table to be closer to Schwartz as they planned the day’s events, stood instinctively and pushing chairs aside, ran after the perp. The uniform heard my call and darted back into the hall. Not expecting the uniform to come from his left, Jimmy collided with the cop, giving Brenda just enough time to make it to her car.
Hearing the commotion, Trevor came out of the study further delaying the pursuit, but Jimmy pushed past him and got to the car just as Brenda started her engine. I felt sick as I watched my plan begin to dissolve as the car lurched into traffic. She turned down the steep grade of Murray Avenue, and a grinding sound issued from her low carriage. She was driving on four flat tires. As the bottom of her car dragged on the pavement, the bag that Schwartz had shoved under her carriage ripped open. A small cloud of white powder puffed out from under her vehicle along with a fine shower of sparks, and as she continued her erratic escape attempt, a thin trail of cocaine marked her path.
She lost control of her car and found herself trapped on the sidewalk. The three pursuing policemen caught up with her as she tried to abandon her ride. First on the scene was Jimmy with the stop. The uniform arrived second for the assist. Bringing up the rear was poor Trevor. Together, the three of them cuffed Brenda and guided her back uphill toward the house.
I couldn’t understand how the tires had gotten flat. This had not been a part of my contingencies. I scoped the area, and found Beverly standing at a corner of the house. She held something in her hand; something small made of black rubber and brass.
Chapter 32
The three force-members ritualistically ignored us civilians as they placed Brenda in the cruiser and called H.Q. on the radio. Procedure dictated their actions, and there was no room for variety. Jimmy was the primary since it was his jurisdiction and because he had made the catch. Trevor couldn’t take the bust now even if he wanted to. Schwartz realized this, and shook his head at me accordingly.
Eventually, Trevor made his way from the triumvirate of jeans d’arme and approached Schwartz who was watching from the porch. “I don’t know how all of this fits into your plan, but the warrant is still valid, and I guess I’m free to enforce it. Anyway, that’s how it’s going to go down now, whether you like it or not. Unless you’d prefer to wait and do this another day.”
Mia’s jaw dropped, and she looked to Schwartz with her hands planted firmly on her hips and expectation rooted even more firmly in her expression. Schwartz turned his palms up. “It’s not exactly satisfactory,” he said, “but it will have to do.” Mia’s hands went up (a heck of a lot higher and faster than Schwartz’s had,) and she turned and stormed back into the house.
As the car with the uniform, Brenda and Jimmy drove off, Schwartz, Trevor and I went into the study. “Very well played, Ms. Hoskin,” Schwartz said after he’d sat behind his desk. “But it may prove folly. I hope not. Detective Johns, now that you are going to be in charge of presenting the warrant, I should explain what purpose it serves.” This he was about to do, when Beverly knocked at the door. She peeked in and announced that there were more visitors. “Ms. Hoskin,” Schwartz said, “would you see to them please?” I nearly stammered a vain protest, but I realized that I had no argument to make. While it was true that I had already figured out who had killed the old man, I still hadn’t worked out how the killer had gotten to Matthew, and I was anxious for any little clue that might give me the answer before Schwartz could reveal it; if only for the satisfaction.
As I left the office, I was greeted by Penny Prince and her boss, Thornton Felix. I understood why Felix
was present. He wanted to see Schwartz earn his fee, but I did not understand what purpose Penny’s presence served. “Was Mr. Schwartz expecting you?” I asked.
“Yes,” Felix said.
“Both?” I asked.
“Yes,” Penny confirmed.
“Well,” I said, “he’s in a meeting with the police at the moment. It concerns the case. He’ll be out shortly. Would you care to join me in the dining room for some coffee?”
***
Beverly gave us each boxed lunches, which Schwartz insisted we all take along. We were briefed on the lawn, and we took a number of cars to St. Bart’s. I drove Schwartz and myself in the Fiero four-speed, Felix and Penny each took their own cars, and Trevor drove the squad car that Jimmy had arrived in.
On the way, we made several planned stops. The first was at the lawn-care and exterminating company where Peggy Hanson was employed. There was a police contingent waiting there for us when we arrived. Most of us had to wait outside, but the gist of the call was that Trevor entered, displayed the warrant to search the premises for the original Chlordane container, which had not been in Matthew’s possession when he died. This created a panic. The net of this display was that Trevor agreed to hold off the search for the time being, if Peggy would accompany him and Schwartz to another location. She wasn’t under arrest, but her cooperation could render the warrant baseless.
She agreed, and she rode to the other locations with Felix rather than suffer the embarrassment of riding in the cruiser. Those other locations included her sister’s house, where her brother-in-law was called at work and asked to join his wife and the rest of us at St. Bart’s so that the provision in the warrant granting Trevor permission to search their house might be rendered moot. The same scene was enacted at the residences of Carl and Sam Hanson as well as the hotel room of Lewis Hanson who deferred rather than suffer having his luggage ransacked.
Finally, we arrived at St. Bart’s. I spotted the reporter from the Star-Herald, Jenkins, sitting in his parked car near the rectory. Thornton Felix and all of the Hanson women decamped from Felix’s Cadillac. Schwartz was approaching the front door of the rectory, when the door swung open and Fr. Donatelli met him on the steps. “Can we help you?” Donatelli asked.
Schwartz backed away in surprise. When he composed himself, he asked, “What are you doing here, Mr. Donatelli.”
“Really,” Donatelli said, “you’re on church property. The least you could do is show the appropriate respect here. If you can’t call me Father, then at least refer to me as Pastor or Reverend.”
“Very well,” Schwartz said. “What are you doing here, Pastor?”
“I might ask you the same, but I already know the answer. One of the Hansons — I won’t say which — called Fr. Coneely after receiving a call that the entire Hanson family was being brought here under intimidation of a warrant. Fr. Coneely called me for my advice, and I volunteered to be his spokesman. As I understand it, there is nothing in that warrant granting you access to the church or any other building on these grounds, so I must ask you all to leave.”
“You’re correct, of course,” Schwartz said. “The warrant does not grant us permission to enter any of the buildings on this property, and I doubt that I could arrange for such a warrant. However, I have this,” he said reaching into his hip pocket to display a folded piece of paper. “It’s a rental contract for the hall. Brother Devlin signed it the other day. I’ve rented the staging area. I just came to get the key and to invite Fr. Coneely to join us as we examine the stage.”
Donatelli reached for the form, but Schwartz snapped it back. “Devlin,” the aging priest called. A few moments later, the lanky form of the monk filled the door-frame along with Donatelli. He conceded that he had signed the contract with the Five Seekers, a group of which it was well known that Schwartz was a founding member. However, he pointed out, there was no need for us to wait for the key, since John Dachnewel had arrived earlier that morning to bring in some set materials. He’d helped John unload the flats and supports himself just after sunrise.
“Please tell Pastor Coneely that he is invited to join us if he chooses,” Schwartz said. “Though, since his lawyer is already present, he may be exempted.”
***
Soon our entire group was walking into the staging area of St. Bart’s hall. The staging had been rigged with tall canvas theater flats turned on their sides to form a sort of maze. The front of the maze was open in the middle and the rest formed a familiar floor-plan complete with French double-doors on one of the inside walls. Another wall had a partial stair-well running up its side, and yet another couple of walls had working doors standing in the middle of them.
“Allow me to explain,” Schwartz began. “Mr. Dachnewel here,” he indicated a plumpish lawyer-type in paint splattered denim work clothes sitting on the stage-right steps, “has been working from a combination of my description and the photograph’s taken by a reporter from the paper during Mr. Coneely’s press conference in your father’s house to recreate the floor-plan on this stage. It is roughly one-third scale, though it may be off some here and there. For my purposes, that won’t matter.”
“What is this all about?” Donatelli demanded. “Why is Coneely’s lawyer helping you with this investigation?”
Schwartz said, “I intend to establish that Mr. — er — Pastor Coneely is innocent, so there is no conflict.”
“But he’s already been proven innocent,” Donatelli insisted.
“He was only considered innocent based on the premise that Matthew Hanson confessed and killed himself. I intend to prove that that didn’t happen, at which point Coneely would then be considered a suspect again.”
“Then he should be here,” Donatelli began, but Schwartz cut him off.
“However,” Schwartz said, “Before I establish that Matthew didn’t kill his father, I have to establish that somebody else did. I have somebody in mind, and it isn’t Coneely. Consequently, he’ll never be back on the hook.” Schwartz moved over to Thornton Felix’s side. The ladies had all coupled up with their mates, except for Peggy who was mateless. She was standing between Felix and Donatelli, so Schwartz addressed her. “Miss Hanson, you’ve been introduced to Mr. Felix?”
“The other girls and I drove here with him,” Peggy confirmed.
“I imagine he told you his connection to this case?” Schwartz said questioningly.
“He said that he represented my father’s life insurance policy.”
“What?” Lewis said. He’d been leaning in the door jamb, but now he walked to the center of the floor.
“You didn’t know that your father had a large life insurance policy?” Schwartz asked.
“They told me that Dad had let the policy lapse,” Lewis insisted.
“You expect us to believe that?” Johns asked from his position near the door.
“It’s true,” Carl Hanson said. “We didn’t tell him or Peggy that Dad’s new policy hadn’t lapsed.”
Sam shouldered some of the responsibility. “It was Dad’s idea. Lewis and Peggy were opposed to Dad spending his money on life insurance. They had naïve ideas about Dad beating the cancers or something.”
“No we didn’t,” Lewis insisted. “I mean, we knew he was going to die, but we thought if he went broke, he’d die before his time if he couldn’t afford his medicines.”
“At any rate,” Schwartz said, “the policy had a grace period, and you all learned of it from Matthew. Didn’t you, Miss Hanson?”
Peggy nodded her head slowly. “Matthew said that Dad knew the policy had a grace period, but we all thought it stopped when Dad canceled the policy.”
“He didn’t cancel” Felix said. “He just stopped paying the premium. The policy was about to lapse the day after he died.”
“The day after he died?” Lewis said. “You mean it was still in force when he passed?”
Schwartz said, “And except for the fact that a murderer is not entitled to his or her share of the benefit,
you each stand to inherit half a million dollars apiece.”
Marjorie reached out to Lewis’ arm. “We were going to tell you after the settlement came in.”
“You knew about it too?” Lewis shouted.
“As it stands,” Schwartz said, “Matthew’s share has already been forfeited. I’ve been engaged by Mr. Felix on behalf of his firm to establish if there are any other portions of the policy that might be forfeit. Before I continue, I’d like to ask you all to sign a waiver of your portions of the death benefit if I should be able to establish that you are implicit in the death of your father.”
“No,” Melvin Melhorne insisted stepping out from behind his wife. “Why should any of them sign such a thing?”
“Why should they not?” Schwartz replied. “The courts would not allow them to benefit from the unlawful act regardless, and since they are all certain to protest their innocence at this time…”
“So why do you want the signatures then?” Melhorne asked.
“Because I don’t want to be burdened with the wait for my payment,” Schwartz said. “I am under no other obligation to settle this case, and I’m just as content to leave it as it is; only I know for a fact that Matthew Hanson was murdered and framed, and I should think that your family would like to know by whom.”
“I’d like to know by whom,” Lewis said sarcastically. “I’ll sign your paper.”
“I’ll sign it too,” Peggy said. “I have nothing to hide.” Eventually, the paper made its rounds, and all five of the surviving Hansons signed away their claims on their inheritance should it be proven that they had killed their father. When the paper had come full-circle back into Schwartz’s hands, he showed the paper to Felix. “I’ll have Mr. Dachnewel notarize it and Detective Johns witness it. Is this satisfactory?”
“It’s fine,” Felix said with a puzzled look on his face. Schwartz completed his legal rituals and returned to the role of director.
***
“As I was saying,” Schwartz said regaining his audience, “this is a life-size scale diagram of your father’s house. While the pictures on which it is based were shot on the day of the press conference, that is not the day that I am interested in. I’m interested in the day your father died. Specifically, I’m interested in the time from between when Coneely and Donatelli left until the time that Peggy and Matthew discovered your father’s body. To that end, I would like you all to go through the movements you made on that night. I have a brief list of those movements,” he said taking another couple of sheets from his other hip pocket, “a sort of time-frame-sketch, based on the information you supplied to both Ms. Hoskin and the police. I want to test this sketch against a live demonstration to prove their veracity. Will you all comply?”