Chapter Fourteen
I parallel parked across from the police station again and promptly jaywalked across the street. I knew I was tempting fate. I certainly didn’t need to add a jaywalking ticket to my speeding tickets.
The police station was in an old stone building that used to house the town’s library. The developer had retained the high ceilings and marble columns during the renovation. My footsteps echoed as I made my way across the marble floor to the main desk. The desk officer looked up from his paperwork.
“Susan Hunter to see Detective Bentley,” I said.
He nodded, picked up the telephone’s handset, pushed a button, and simply said, “Susan Hunter.” He looked at me with no expression and mumbled, “He’ll be right out.”
I stood by the desk and looked around. There weren’t many people in the large lobby. A woman and child were sitting on a bench against one wall, and a policeman was making his way toward a water fountain. My heart began racing. No one had rushed out yet to handcuff me, but I could feel my chest tightening with anxiety, and it was getting harder to breathe.
“Susan Hunter?” a deep voice asked.
I turned to see a strikingly handsome man, probably in his late forties. He had smoldering blue-gray eyes, and his square cut jaw showed a deep cleft. He was casually dressed in jeans with a simple black pullover shirt and a light gray linen blazer with the sleeves pushed up. I had pictured him in my mind as more of a roly-poly, balding type with glasses. Being grilled by someone who looked like the leading man in a movie wasn’t going to make this any easier. My palms were wet with nervous sweat.
“Yes?” I squeaked.
Wonderful. Now my voice wasn’t going to work. I was pretty sure I saw laughter in his eyes and a suppressed smile, but I couldn’t be certain.
“Detective Bentley,” he said as he shook my sweaty hand. “Follow me.” He turned and headed down a hallway off the main entrance.
We entered a small office, and he motioned for me to take a seat in the chair in front of the desk. He sat down on the edge of the desk, leaned down close to my face, and asked, “Where were you last Saturday night at twelve thirty in the morning?”
Oh my gosh! I nearly had a heart attack. I was sure he could see the fear in my eyes and hear my heart straining to get out of my chest. “I, I, …” I stammered. “I was at home. In bed.”
“Were you alone?” He asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Yes. Yes. I was alone.” I was near tears now. There would be no one to corroborate my story.
He stood up and laughed, “I’m just kidding you. You looked so scared I had to have a little fun with you.” He walked around the desk and sat down, still chuckling. “Most people watch too much television and-”
“Come on,” I said loudly, cutting him off. “That wasn’t just a scare. You nearly gave me a heart attack. Really! I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest.” I was mad.
“His eyes still held laughter, but he looked a tad remorseful, “Susan, let’s cut right to the chase. You aren’t a suspect in Jerry’s murder.”
“I’m not?” I asked as relief washed over me.
“No, you’re not. At least not for now.” He leaned back and put his feet up on his desk. “We know Dick has been telling your friend Larry some of what’s going on with this case, but we leaked some of the information with the hope of finding out more.”
He paused and put his feet back on the floor. He was serious and all business now. “When we found out the potassium chloride was put in a glass of apple juice, and a couple of the club members heard you tell Jerry he could have yours, we put you on our suspect list. But there’s one person who was at the Cable Connect party that night who we haven’t been able to find. He has a dubious past, and we’re following leads for him right now. I just wanted to ask you if there was anything you remember about that night we might need to know.” He leaned forward and looked at me intently. “Oh, and to tell you – don’t leave town.” He chuckled again.
Was this guy a charmer, a comedian, or a smart aleck? I was too worked up to figure it out, and I was sure I didn’t care.
“Wicker Barnes,” I said. “You’re looking for Wicker Barnes.”
With a stony look, he asked, “How did you know that?”
With my own stony look, I told him, “Because Wicker Barnes has been in Florida all week stalking me.”
Detective Bentley had the good sense to look shocked.
After almost two hours, I had filled him in on all the details. He agreed with Darby that poison beer at the boat races was a stretch. He also pointed out that we never actually saw Wicker flatten any car tires, or run us off the road, or light the Shark Trek on fire. However, he did say I made a compelling case against the guy, and he would put men at the airport right away.
I left the station and climbed back into the Chevelle. It was nearly four o’clock. Darby and Johnny would be at my apartment in an hour. If I drove fast, I would have time to make a quick stop at Martin’s Deli for rye bread and corned beef. The sauerkraut I had bought last weekend would still be good, but I wasn’t counting on the bread or the meat to have held up.
When I walked through the doorway, Martin greeted me with a somewhat baffled look.
“Susan, you surprised me when you pulled in. Where did you come from? Do you know the police are looking for you?”
“I just left the station a few minutes ago,” I said. “I’m sorry I can’t chat, Martin. I’m in a hurry. I’ll take my usual.” I moved toward the shelves to grab a loaf of rye.
“Why didn’t they arrest you?” he asked. “Sherry said you murdered Jerry and skipped town.”
I sighed. Sherry was one of the day shift girls who quit at the racquetball club because she was afraid to keep working there after Jerry’s death. She must be the one spreading the rumors.
“Martin, I most certainly did not murder Jerry. The police have a suspect, and they’ll have him in custody soon.” I quickly thought about Martin’s relationship with my father. “Have you been telling this story to other people?” I asked.
“A few,” he said, looking embarrassed. “But I didn’t tell your dad. I couldn’t give him that kind of bad news. There was no way I could break his heart and tell him that giving you that beast of a car turned you into a murderer.”
I almost smiled at that, but I didn’t want to encourage him, and I was in a hurry. “Thanks, Martin, I appreciate it.”
I tried to wait patiently while he wrapped my meat and cheese. I paid for my items and left the store.
A few minutes later, I pulled into the carport of my apartment building, grabbed my gym bag, snickerdoodle cookies, and the groceries and ran up the three flights of stairs.
I heated the oven right away and put the bread and corned beef in at the same time. The bread would crisp, and the meat would steam in a foil packet. That would give me fifteen minutes to grab a quick shower before both had to come out. I wanted to be ready for work at the club later, so my visit with Darby and Johnny wouldn’t be cut short if they decided to stay for the evening.
After a quick blow-dry and a fresh swipe of mascara, I pulled on a club shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans. I was still physically fatigued from our vacation, so I wouldn’t be wearing heels tonight. I went in search of a pair of tennis shoes. I would have worn my court shoes, but one was ruined, and the other was with a shark somewhere at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico. I shuddered at the thought.
Where were my Nikes? They weren’t in my closet, and I never put shoes under my bed. They had to be in my gym bag. I grabbed the bag from the floor where I had dropped it earlier and began pulling out the contents. I needed to change out the wrinkled clothing anyway. My shoes were in a zippered side pocket. I pulled them out, and a plastic baggie flipped out with them.
What was this? It had powder in it. The bag wasn’t marked, and the powder had no odor. I wasn’t going to taste it. I had a feeling I had already tasted it once, and the powder had
been planted in my bag.
My mind began to race again. What if the police didn’t find Wicker Barnes? What if they couldn’t connect him to Jerry’s murder? What if they searched my apartment and found the powder? Would it be enough to convict me? I didn’t want to destroy evidence, but I needed to hide it for a while. At least until Wicker Barnes was found and charged. I definitely needed to get it out of my apartment.
The timer went off on the stove at the same time there was a knock at the door.
“Just a minute,” I yelled. I shoved the baggie into my jeans pocket, jammed everything but my shoes back into the gym bag, and tossed it into the bedroom.
I took a couple of deep breaths to regain my composure and opened the door. It was Darby. He was alone, all smiles, and he had the bottle of Jack with him.
“Where’s Johnny?” I asked and looked out into the hallway.
“He’s not coming,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You’re kidding,” I said. I couldn’t contain my surprise. “What happened?”
“I’ll save the details for over sandwiches,” he said. He walked into the kitchen and set the bottle on the counter. “First, tell me how things went with the detective.”
I pulled the bread and meat from the oven.
“He was a smart aleck,” I said. “But for now, I’m not being considered as a suspect. He did tell me not to leave town though.”
“Was he serious?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I think he might have been, but he did say he would look into Wicker Barnes. They know he was at the club last Saturday night, and they haven’t been able to find him. He’s still a suspect wanted for questioning.”
“Did you tell him what we know?” he asked.
“I did,” I said. “And even though I think he thought some of it was farfetched, he did think the overall picture I painted went along with what they knew about Wicker. They’re going to step up efforts to track him down.”
Darby smiled. I knew he was keeping something from me. “Did he give you any new information?” he asked.
“No. I told him everything I could think of, even Wicker’s connection to Jenny, and that Mick and I were dating. He didn’t know any of that, but he wouldn’t tell me anything he knew. I suppose that’s for the best. I don’t need to be tracking down any more bad guys.”
I made a quick assembly line of ingredients for the sandwiches.
Darby looked at me with some confusion and asked, “Have you been tracking down bad guys?”
“Oh my gosh! I almost forgot to tell you. I saw the man who visited Jerry on Thursdays. His real name is Jim, and I followed him, and he’s not a bad guy.” I slowed down, began slicing the bread, and said wistfully, “He’s a really good guy. I feel bad that I thought he was behind Jerry’s murder.”
While I grilled the assembled sandwiches, I filled Darby in on Jerry’s story. I told him how much I liked Dorothy and Jim, and I gave him a big smile when I said, “They need help with their website and marketing, so I gave them your number.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’ll take you to meet them before they ever have a chance to call you. I’ll be going back for more cookies anyway, and you can come with me. They’re friends of Stan and Louise. You’ll like them.”
We sat down to eat.
“Now tell me what happened to Johnny,” I insisted. “Did he change his mind about coming?”
“No, he didn’t,” he said with a chuckle. “We talked early this morning and decided he would pick me up at the hotel. We planned to go to the airport together. That way he could bring a bag for me to pack the rest of my clothes, and he could leave his car in long-term parking. It would be there for him then when he got back.”
He took a couple of big bites of his sandwich and said with his mouth full, “You know, I never get tired of these. You do everything just right, but I think the Russian dressing you make puts them over the top.” He followed the comment with a long drink of his raspberry iced tea.
“Darby, come on! Tell me what happened.” I couldn’t wait any longer. He was deliberately milking this.
He laughed and said, “Ok, hold your horses. It’s coming. We made it to the airport just fine. There was nothing out of the ordinary and no sign of Wicker Barnes. Johnny was just Johnny this morning, and it was nice to be able to talk with him.”
He took another bite of his sandwich and continued with his mouth mostly full, “We got on the airplane, stowed our carry-on bags, and sat down in our seats. I was by the window. Johnny took the aisle seat so he could stretch out. There wasn’t anyone between us.”
“Lucky you guys,” I said.
He grinned and nodded.
“We thought the plane was completely boarded, and then guess who got on? Wicker Barnes.”
“No way! You’re kidding!” I shouted. I was truly shocked. “Were you afraid?”
“No, not afraid, but a little concerned. Johnny saw him right away, too, but he was subdued and didn’t react. I think the boat and shark incident yesterday took quite a bit of theatrics out of him. At least it did for a while,” he said, smiling again.
“Ok, then what?” I asked. I wanted to hear this story as fast as I could.
“We’d only been in the air about an hour when Wicker started walking up and down the aisle, looking at people. He went up and back, and then did it again. I put my head down, so I wouldn’t make eye contact with him. I don’t know if he recognized Johnny and me or not. He was most likely looking for you and had his sights set for a girl.”
Even knowing the police were looking for him, I was still startled by what he was saying. How could Darby think this was humorous?
“About ten minutes later, he did it again – up and back, up and back. When he went for another pass, Johnny couldn’t take it anymore. He stood and blocked Wicker’s way. He put on an urban character persona I hadn’t seen before and gave it to Wicker with both barrels.” He stopped and smiled again.
“What? What?” I couldn’t wait to hear this. “Tell me what he did!”
He laughed loudly before saying, “Johnny had one hand on his hip, and he was shaking his head back and forth. He snapped his fingers in a zee formation with the other hand and got right in Wicker’s face.” He leaned back in his chair to mimic the position Johnny had taken and talked in a high-pitched voice. “He said, ‘What do you think you’re doin’ walkin’ up and down this aisle every two minutes? You’re makin’ me nervous. Are you a terrorist? Are you tryin’ to scare everyone? You need to take your seat and quit walkin’ through here lookin’ at everybody’s faces. You might look like Marlon Brando, but I think you’re a terrorist all up in here tryin’ to scare everyone.’”
My mouth hung open. “He used the word terrorist on an airplane?” I asked.
“He sure did,” he said, laughing harder. “Wicker pushed him and told him to get out of his way. Johnny pushed him back, did the head shake and zee thing with his fingers again, and said, ‘Oh no, you didn’t. You don’t get to push me,’ and they started throwing punches! People were screaming. The air marshal finally got in between them. The plane was diverted to Charlotte, and the police were waiting for them when we landed.”
“Oh, Darby, that’s horrible,” I said. “Poor Johnny.” I wasn’t sure this was as humorous as Darby was making it out to be.
“Maybe poor Johnny,” he acknowledged. “But he winked at me right before he was taken off the plane. I think once he tells his side of the story, and what he knows about Wicker Barnes, they might go easy on him.”
“Do you think Johnny intended to get thrown off the plane?” I asked.
“I do,” he said. “You didn’t need Wicker coming back here to Ohio, and I think after the boat incident, Johnny wanted to put him in the hands of the police.”
“I’m stunned,” I said. “That was a stupid but brave thing to do.”
I sat for a moment thinking of how Johnny had
intervened for me. I hoped he wouldn’t wind up in jail over this. I tried to picture him taking on Wicker on the airplane, and I had to admit, knowing how over-the-top Johnny could be, it probably had been very funny.
I looked at Darby. He was well into his second sandwich by now. “Now that the week is over, and you’re home, do you have any thoughts about a relationship with him?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said as he looked across the table to me. “But the answer is no. The sparks were never really there, and even though I like Johnny, his ability to put on different personas at the drop of a hat is kind of hard for me to deal with. I’d like someone who isn’t quite so interesting.”
“Well, you can travel some more and meet new people” I told him with a smile. “But I’m not going with you next time.”
“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I might go back to Saint Pete in a couple of months.”
My mouth dropped open. “Why? Why on earth would you want to go back there?”
He smiled a big smile. His eyes twinkled. “Remember the afternoon desk clerk? His name is Nate, and there may have been a few sparks there.”
We both burst out laughing.
We were done eating, and we were stuffed. We made fast work of the kitchen cleanup.
“Want to hang around and watch some television for a while?” I asked. “I’m working at the club tonight, but I don’t have to go in until nine. You can work on the Jack, and I’ll have a glass of wine.”
We moved to the living room and settled into our usual spots on the sofa.