Myles sighed. “It’s no coincidence, Stump.” For the reminder of the ride, Myles filled Stump in about Detective Sanchez’s investigation of Dixon for rape. Finally, “And that’s why I tried to get you to look for another job. Now it looks like you’ll have no choice.”
Stump thought about Mr. Connors’s offer, but there’d be plenty of time to kick that around later. For the moment he wondered what the meeting with Sergeant Byrdswain might be like. He hoped he wouldn’t have to say anything about him and Maria hiding out in the maintenance room. “What have they found out so far?” he asked.
“All I know is Sergeant Byrdswain has been working on-site and Detective Sanchez is lying low.”
“Mom used to say life is short. Now I know what she meant. Even though Mr. Kraft was ill, I didn’t see this coming. Now I hate Dixon even more for causing me to miss that last City Council meeting.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Your mom would be very proud of your effort.”
“Effort? What good is effort, without results?”
“We should mind our own business,” Grandma Pauline said.
Stump almost grinned. “Thanks, Grandma. I’ll try to remember that.”
They made their way to the lobby of the police building. “The conference room is upstairs,” Myles said, heading for the elevator.
“I’m taking the stairs,” Grandma Pauline said. Myles and Stump looked at each other and followed her just in case she lost her balance.
At the top, Myles pointed off to the right. “You guys go in the conference room. I’ll tell the others we’re here.”
Stump and Grandma Pauline took seats at a large table where she pointed to a picture on the wall. “Oh, look. That’s my neighbors’ house.”
Stump’s eyes flashed to the picture. “In Oklahoma? I don’t think so.”
“Oh, yes it is. I recognize those windows.”
Stump rose, examined an engraved brass plate attached to the bottom of the frame and read it out loud. “In appreciation of Gregory and Wilma Wellstone for donating their family farm to the City of Palmdale. The Wellstone raised four of their own children and countless foster children on this site.”
Grandma Pauline shook her head back and forth. “They’re wrong. That’s Sheila and Ted’s house, after they got their money from the county.”
“Look who’s here.” The voice came from over Stump’s shoulder. He pivoted. “Hello, Detective Sanchez.”
She smiled at Stump as she and Myles took a seat. “How’ve you been?”
“Sad, but okay. I saw you a while back, but didn’t recognize you at first, but now that I think of it, Mr. Connors said somebody else was investigating at his building. That must have been you too, investigating the same scams.”
Grandma Pauline waved at Detective Sanchez and said, “Did you know Myles is my son?”
Detective Sanchez smiled. “Yes, ma’am. He told me that.”
“Do you know Ted and Sheila? That’s their home on the wall after they got their new windows.”
Stump sighed.
“No, I didn’t know them,” Detective Sanchez said.
Stump addressed Detective Sanchez. “Did Dixon kill Mr. Kraft?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. A killer must have motive, means and opportunity.”
“A MOM!” Stump said.
“A mom? What’s his mom got to do with it?”
“I just made it up. If you rearrange those three words so that it’s motive, opportunity and means, it’s an acronym that says MOM. Every killer has to have a MOM.”
Myles and Detective Sanchez traded glances. “Clever,” she said. “I never thought of it that way.”
Just then, Sergeant Byrdswain came in and sat down. “Hello, everybody. You can ignore me. Just go on with your conversation.”
Detective Sanchez turned back to Stump. “You were talking about Dixon scamming people. What scams?”
“Lots of ’em. He charges tenants money, off the record, for getting them jobs or for doing favors for them. Stuff like that.”
“What makes you think so?”
Stump certainly didn’t want to admit that he had Juanita steal Dixon’s notebook. Maybe a different truthful answer would work. “I discovered it before I started working there. My dad and I considered buying the property and when we looked around, I saw a suspicious receipt book.”
Detective Sanchez nodded. “Okay. Did you ever say anything about these discrepancies to the owner?”
“I mentioned them, but Mr. Kraft had known Dixon for a long time and I didn’t want to make waves and risk losing my job.”
“What about after you started working there? Did you see more examples of Dixon cheating people?”
“Not exactly, but I knew he was doing it.”
Sergeant Byrdswain shuffled in his seat. “Did Dixon just confess to you?”
Stump’s stomach tightened. He’d hoped that he wouldn’t have to discuss everything he discovered and some of the follow-up investigating he did, but now that the cops were involved anyway, this could be his chance to get them to take over his own Case of Did He or Did He Not? “My girlfriend suspected that Dixon might have raped her mom, and she wanted me to find out if he’d done anything like that to anybody else. Then we could turn him in without her mama having to talk to the police.”
Byrdswain shook his head. “Why would they tell you something like that as opposed to reporting it to us?”
“Simple. They’re scared of both Dixon and the cops. Everybody around there avoids you people because they don’t want to risk being deported. Besides, if you started asking Dixon questions it could piss him off. He could make things even harder on Maria and her mother, just like he did to me when I wanted to talk at the City Council meeting.”
“So you spied on Dixon?”
Stump nodded. “I learned a few simple things and then I heard about his secret notebook.”
Byrdswain and Myles traded glances.
“What notebook?”
Stump sighed. “Dixon kept it in his desk. He ripped off so many people he had to keep track of them all. That’s why I agree with Manuel. Mr. Kraft must have figured out that Dixon was stealing from him and Dixon killed Mr. Kraft to stay out of jail.” Stump was pleased with himself for getting that idea on the table without revealing he and Maria were hiding in the maintenance room when Mr. Kraft and Dixon were arguing about this very topic.
“Where’s this notebook now?”
“I copied it and threw it away.”
“Where’s the copy?”
“At school. It’s in code, but I figured it out.”
“I’m going to need that notebook.”
Anxious to end the meeting, Stump rose. “Okay, I’ll go get it.”
Byrdswain pointed at Stump’s chair. “I didn’t mean right now.”
Detective Sanchez asked the next question. “Did Dixon admit in that notebook that he raped Maria’s mom?”
“No, but it said he was Maria’s real dad and that he had over twenty thousand dollars hidden away for her.”
Myles sat back and crossed his arms.
Grandma Pauline pointed to the wall. “That house is Sheila and Ted’s after they got their grant from the county.”
Myles placed a finger on his lips. “Shh.”
Sergeant Byrdswain tapped at the table. “So you were messing around with Dixon’s daughter, and Dixon must have found out his notebook was missing. Did he confront you about these things?”
“Yes, sir, but I denied knowing anything about it. That’s when he let the air out of my tires and almost killed me and made me miss a meeting with the Mayor and the City Council. Now a whole neighborhood is dangerous because of him.”
“I thought the City Council had another meeting coming up?” Detective Sanchez said. “You could try again.”
“It’s the day after tomorrow, but I can’t go back because they think I’m a flake.”
“We’re getting off t
rack here,” Sergeant Byrdswain said. “Let’s get back to last night and our victim. Where were you from seven-thirty to eight-thirty?”
A bolt of adrenalin raced up Stump’s spine. “Am I a suspect, cause I don’t have a motive and I liked Mr. Kraft. He was like a grandpa to me.”
“Grandpa? Is my husband here?”
Myles shook his head. “No, mom, we’re talking about somebody else.”
“But you were at the building earlier in the evening?” Byrdswain continued. “True?”
“Yes. I got my driver’s license and my dad let me take his truck over there.”
“What time was that?”
“I worked until seven.”
“Then what did you do?”
Ugh! Stump didn’t want to say he took Maria to the maintenance room or the flower shop. “Maria and I went for a very long walk. She can verify that.”
“We’ll ask her. What time did you get back?”
“Just about five minutes before you got there. I saw you park on the sidewalk.”
“So you didn’t see or hear anything between seven or so when you left the property until you got back, at the same time I arrived?”
“We weren’t there when Mr. Kraft was killed, if that’s what you mean.”
“Alright, that’s enough for now. But in the future, I want you to call Detective Sanchez and me before you go sticking your nose into police business. Okay?”
Stump sighed. “I wanted to.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
The next day, Stump dragged himself to school and got drawn into more conversations about the murder. Yes, he knew the victim. No, he wasn’t there when it happened. Yes, he saw the body. Yes, he’d missed a lot of school lately.
Then at lunch, he sneaked into the restroom and hid in a stall, just to have some peace. He pulled out his iPhone and sent a brief “I miss you” text to Maria. Then he remembered the notes he’d previously left himself. He checked out Maslow, party lines and Jack Ruby. He found it interesting that Grandma Pauline knew so much about a mobster from decades earlier but could easily forget where she was at any moment.
Another note regarded the comment Grandma Pauline made about her neighbors in Oklahoma. He couldn’t take anything Grandma Pauline said at face value, but she seemed pretty certain that her friends got a grant for their windows. He wondered if other places, such as Palmdale, had anything like that. He tweaked the key words a couple times before he nearly fell off the stool.
Rebuilding Together
Through our Home Modification Program,
we aim to improve safety and accessibility within
and around the home for Seniors, Disabled People,
Veterans and Low-Income Families.
Holy shit. Words like low-income families and safety sounded perfect for his old neighborhood. He quickly dialed the number and worked through several prompts before a real person came on. “Rebuilding Together. Help you?”
“Yes, please,” he said drawing on his earlier experience about sounding mature on the phone. “My name’s Neal Randolph. I’m in Palmdale. We’re wondering if you guys have any grant money to fix houses.”
“I’m sorry. Where’d you say you are?”
“Palmdale, California.”
“We’re in a hundred and sixty places. Let me look it up.”
A hundred and sixty places? Wow. That was good odds.
Seconds later the lady returned. “Nope. Sorry. I have no listing for anyplace named Palmdale. Is it near a bigger city?”
“Yes. It’s a suburb of Los Angeles.”
“Oh. That’s different. Hang on. Okay, here it is. Yes, it looks like Palmdale qualifies under the L.A. program.”
Stump’s heart damn near jumped through his chest. “No kidding. What all will you do?”
“Practically anything that improves safety or assures energy savings. Furnaces, painting, windows, insulation. You name it. Don’t you have a lot of stucco homes out there?”
“Yes. Old ones.”
“A lot of those can use new roofs and gutters and air conditioning. We can do all of it if the home owner qualifies.”
Good God, this was too good to be true. “What do we have to do to qualify?”
“How much money do you earn?”
“It’s not for me. It’s for my neighbors. Some of them are pretty poor.”
“Well, each person will have to fill out their own application, but it’s quick and easy to qualify. I can email some information.”
“I’m trying to help a whole neighborhood. Is that too big for you?”
“Not really. We complete an average of 10,000 homes every year.”
“Do you provide carpenters and electricians?”
“No. No. We work with the community to get volunteers, but we have nearly a million of them. The only thing you have to worry about is the availability of the funds. Our grants usually dry up pretty fast. How soon would you need the funds?”
“I don’t know yet—maybe a month or two.”
“Well. That’s cutting it pretty close, but if you can get the applications in within a couple weeks, I can put you on the list.”
“I think I can do that.”
“Before you go, there’s another program in your area you might be interested in. It’s called Neighborhood Improvement Program. It offers free painting, landscaping, driveway work, roofs and trash removal, but there’s a limit of six thousand dollars per household. Would you like me to send you a link?”
“Yes, but I can’t deal with it right now. I’ll call you back later.” He sprang to his feet. Grandma Pauline was correct. Everything fit. “Thank you. Thank you. I love you, Grandma.” He sat back down and made another call.
“Danielle Delgado here.”
“Hello, Ms. Delgado, This is Stump. Do you remember me?” His words were flying off his tongue at nearly twice their usual pace.
“Of course I do, Stump. You sound excited. What’s up?”
“You have to get me on the City Council agenda tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry Stump, but we discussed this previously. They won’t reschedule you because of what happened last time. Besides, it’s way beyond the deadline and they have a full docket. They’re just not going to do it.”
“But they have to. I’ve got fantastic news. I can get those unsafe houses fixed for free.”
“It doesn’t really matter now. They’ve printed up the agenda already and they have too much to do. Besides, the neighbors made it clear that they didn’t want any part of a program like that. The council members want to get re-elected. They’re not going to fight that battle.”
“But there are government programs, with money for just what we need. You can look it up on the internet.”
“That might have helped before, but the Council simply doesn’t have the time or inclination to discuss the project with you right now. It’s bad timing.”
“But they have to. If we don’t get it done now the money will dry up. We’ve got to try. Can’t you call the Mayor or at least Mrs. Crumpler? Maybe they’ll reconsider.”
She sighed. “I doubt it’ll work, but I guess I could put you on hold and call Mrs. Crumpler on the other line. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Thank you, I’ll wait.” With his iPhone glued to his ear, Stump flushed the empty stool out of habit. He moved into the sink area and paced until finally he heard the click.
“I’m back. Mrs. Crumpler said it’s impossible.”
“Didn’t you tell her it’s important?”
“Everything is important to somebody, Stump, but the Mayor’s going to give an end-of-term summary and the schedule is too full. She wouldn’t even consider it. The matter is closed. Maybe you can try again when the next term begins.”
“That won’t work. I’d have to be twenty-one to get on the agenda and the grant money will be gone. I’ve got to do it now.”
“I’m really sorry, Stump. I tried, but they’re definitely not going to budge.”
> The finality in her tone convinced him he was shit-out-of-luck. “Yeah. Right. Everybody is always sorry.” Angry and frustrated, Stump went to his last two classes but didn’t pay attention. Why bother? His grades were going to stink anyway. Eventually the bell rang and he climbed on Ol’ Ug’ and pedaled to Cal-Vista to be with Maria.
When he pulled into the lot and then the bike rack, he observed an ugly mark near the top of the fence that he’d painted not long ago. Somebody must have parked near the fence, then tried to pitch something over the top and into the Connors’s dumpster on the other side. It reminded him of the times when his mom would get upset with him because he’d come home and make messes without even noticing she’d just cleaned the house.
He slumped his way into the courtyard where Maria was at one of the picnic tables. “Hi,” she said. “You look sad. What’s wrong?”
”Everything. I’m a loser. People die. I can’t do anything about it.” He sat and plopped his elbows on the table. “I’m so far behind at school, Myles is gonna kill me. My life sucks.”
“Would you like to go to my place and watch some TV? Mama might make us some popcorn.”
“Not in the mood for TV.”
“What about a walk? We had fun the last time.”
“Naw. Ain’t in the mood for that neither.”
“How about an ice cream cone? Mama might give me enough so we could split one.”
“Nothing sounds good right now.”
She patted his arm. “Well, you still have Mama and me, and I love you. That has to count for something.”
“Yeah. I know, but Mr. Kraft’s dead and Dixon is still running around. Just doesn’t seem fair.”
“Maybe you’ll feel better when he goes to jail.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen either.”
“Why not? Everybody knows he did it.”
“Not really.”
“Why not? He’s the only one who had anything to gain by killing that nice man. He had to do it.”
Stump sighed. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course. Why?”
He looked over his shoulder. “I figured out that Dixon isn’t the killer. Mr. Kraft was killed when Dixon was following you and me. I’m going to have to tell the cops.”
“How do you know that?”
“The cops asked me where I was between seven-thirty and eight-thirty. They must have determined that was the time of death. But Dixon was following you and me at that time.”
She slapped her hand over her lips. “We don’t have to say anything. He deserves what he gets.”