Where Is Henderson? (Sam Darling mystery #5) Page 8

  I leaned down to do so, and looked up at my handsome beau. His mind was definitely not in our room. “What’re you thinking about?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “The body… you know, Cash Henderson.” As a career cop, he had to think of the deceased as a body and not a person. It would make a difficult job impossible if he thought too personally about the body.

  “Maybe if you shared what you’re thinking about, I might be able to help.” My curiosity was in full swing and I hoped he’d give in. Surprisingly, he did so right away.

  “Okay, but we need to go out to the plant while we talk. I want to interview Jonah Henderson. There’s something about him that’s hinky.”

  I smiled, but only because I loved the word “hinky.” Cops tended to use the word, and it made me feel one of the gang.

  “Shall we take Clancy?” I asked. Clancy looked expectantly at George. “She’s been feeling left out.” I waited but he didn’t answer yet. “Since I usually take her to work with me…” I added.

  Without much hesitation, George answered, “Sure, why not. Let’s go.”

  We rushed down the stairs as quickly as middle-aged people rush. Clancy beat us to the door. “Let’s go out the side door,” I said, moving toward the kitchen. “I want some breakfast, but don’t worry, I’ll grab and go.”

  Nibby was in the kitchen as usual. He smiled and greeted us.

  My eyes widened as I looked at the table, full of the wonders Nibby baked last night and this morning too. “Oh…,” was all I could say in the midst of salivating. “You should be a caterer too,” I continued.

  Nibby blushed, and thanked me for my compliment. “I’m kind of a caterer,” he said as he added some freshly baked cinnamon rolls to the splendor. “I’m a wedding planner and sometimes cater the weddings as well.”

  His sweet face showed that he had no inkling of what was coming next.

  ELEVEN

  “Do our wedding!”

  Nibby and George both looked at me and said the same thing. “What?”

  I took my voice down a notch, until I was semi-yelling instead of screaming like a banshee.

  “Plan our wedding. Please.” I begged pathetically.

  “But you said you’re getting married in two weeks. How can it not be planned?”

  I started to speak, but was interrupted by George. “Because she’s Sam.”

  There was no time for me to be insulted. I begged again, “Please.”

  “I need to ask two things first. Do you have a church?” At my nod, he half smiled. “Do you have a venue for the reception?” At my second nod, he gave a bigger smile. “Well, as long as you have those two things, I suspect I can help.” He looked sternly at me, “But you have to promise you will spend a good amount of time with me today so that I know what I’m up against. There’s a ton of stuff I need to know!” He put another tray of heavenly goodness into the oven, then whipped around, “A ton.”

  “I promise,” I said, immensely grateful that I didn’t have to worry about anything. “And I’ll give you the number of some of my relatives and you guys can work together. I love you.” Impulsively I reached up high, trying to put my arms around his neck, but was only able to grab his shirt buttons. I pulled him down, closer to my level and hugged him.

  George was smiling but said, “We have to go. Now.”

  I knew he meant it. I grabbed a cinnamon roll, a scone, and a biscuit off the heavily laden table, and also grabbed a full “to go” coffee cup that Nibby thoughtfully provided. Then off we went.

  As we got to the car, Clancy dutifully jumped in the back.

  “Here,” George said, and he handed me a plate of his breakfast goodies.

  “I didn’t see you take anything.”

  “You were pretty much hypnotized by the food, Sam. You wouldn’t have noticed if the murderer walked up to you and confessed.” George started the engine, then shook his head from side to side.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t hesitate to tell me. “For someone that was so happy to get married, it would seem that you would have had some of the planning done for the ceremony and party. Every time I offered to help you, you said, ‘Don’t worry. I got it.’”

  Wow, that’s a change of subject. “I know, but—”

  “This isn’t a discussion. You asked me what was wrong and I told you. I don’t have time to argue about it. Neither do you. We have to concentrate on solving the case before the FBI gets here, and that’s later today.”

  I held my tongue. He was right. No time for my childish complaints on how busy I was. But this was a major difference between my love and me. I always wanted to talk things out, or talk them to death as my family would say. George was more the “say it once and be done with it” type. At least he talked a little. Much better than my ex-husband. He was the silent type, until he exploded with vitriol. I’d take George’s approach to problem-solving any day.

  “Okay,” was all I said out loud.

  “Okay,” he echoed. Then, “We talked last night about the four people that are suspicious, but for different reasons. Caleb and Joan Henderson, the parents, and Jonah Henderson and Louise Shannon, the uncle and aunt. There’s no evidence pointing toward Caleb, Joan, or Louise, except for your vibes.”

  “Yeah, but it counts for something,” I said defensively.

  “I listed them, didn’t I?” said George, equally testy.

  Mollified, I said, “Go on.”

  “None of the four have real alibis for the day Cash was killed. As far as other people, no one else has surfaced as having a motive either. No apparent enemies. The local cops checked out Cash’s friends and many of his co-workers. Almost all the co-workers have alibis anyway.” He waited at a stop sign for cars to pass, then made a left turn to get on a busier street. “So at the factory today I’d like to spend time with Jonah, and see if we can get him to reveal something when he’s on home turf and feeling more comfortable.” As an afterthought he added, “Okay with you?”

  “I guess. But I think we have to get to Louise as well. She’s shady, I tell you. Shady.”

  Before he could answer, he pulled into the plant’s parking lot and said, “Looks like we’re both in luck.” He pointed toward the plant entrance where Louise and Jonah were engaged in a heated conversation. “Is that Louise?”

  “Yeah. And I’m taking Clancy inside with us. She’s not met Louise before, and only met Jonah for a short time last night. I want to get her take on them.”

  George didn’t argue, which pleased me.

  I continued, “Come to think of it, I’ve not met Louise either. I just saw her at the workshop. I’ll flatter her—that will be a surefire way to get her to talk.”

  George didn’t bother finding a parking spot, just pulled up next to where the argument was happening. Neither Jonah nor Louise noticed us at first, until Clancy got in the middle of them.

  “Sorry. My dog hates arguments. She wants to prevent anyone from getting hurt.”

  “What?” said Jonah, looking first at me and then George.

  Before Louise said anything, Clancy emitted a low growl. She backed away from the couple and lowered herself to her belly. Her low growl continued. However, it wasn’t a warning growl. There was a scary quality to it, but that came from the plaintive sound.

  “One of you killed Cash Henderson,” I said.

  Crap, when would I learn to keep my mouth shut?

  TWELVE

  “Sam, be quiet!”

  George’s command shocked me into silence. The silence lasted only a moment, however.

  “Neither of them denied it! I called them killers and they didn’t deny it!” I was in full-blown Sam mode and couldn’t stop, even though the supposed murderers were standing right in front of us listening to my rant. “Clancy knows one of them did it. Maybe both of them. I know! Let’s separate them, and let Clancy see them individually. She’ll be able to tell us which one is the murderer.” I stopped to take a breath.

  �
�Sam, please stop.” George’s voice sounded very firm and held only a remnant of his normal kindness. I could tell he was about to lose it, and it scared me a little. I’d never seen him like this.

  “This is crazy!” said Jonah. “What in the hell is she talking about?”

  “I don’t understand,” Louise said, exhibiting her plastic and plastered smile. It started to fade a little as Clancy continued growling.

  “Clancy, stop, please.” I said. And I said it much more kindly than George had said it to me. Then, Clancy did something I hadn’t done—she stopped. But she stayed on her stomach and kept staring at both Jonah and Louise.

  Jonah looked around, his face showing an uneasiness I hadn’t seen until now. “Let’s go inside, shall we?” I figured he didn’t want any of his employees to hear this, plus, he probably wanted to remain in control of the situation.

  George obliged, and as we walked he said, “I didn’t come out here to accuse you of murder. My associate gets a little overly excited at times, and—”

  “But—” was all I got to say.

  “… and,” George said with extra emphasis, “I believe she may apologize for that at some point.” He looked at me pointedly, but I think he knew I wasn’t ready for that yet. “In the meantime, do you have somewhere we can talk privately?”

  As we walked into the office building, connected to the factory by a breezeway, Louise remained silent, which I thought was peculiar behavior for her. She did keep her eye on Clancy, as if she were scared my sweet dog was going to attack at any moment. I knew different, but was glad she felt that way.

  I followed them into the building and did so quietly.

  Jonah led us into a small meeting room with walls covered in white boards which were empty. A good quality wooden table was surrounded by upholstered chairs for 12. We four sat at one end, at George’s direction, and Clancy sat on the floor between George and me.

  I could be silent no longer. “Which one of you killed your nephew?” I thought by using the term “nephew” it might evoke some emotion in them. I was right. Tears glistened in Louise’s eyes, but she remained silent. The tears evaporated almost immediately, leaving me to think that I’d imagined them. “I’m sorry,” I said in a rush. “I really am.” And I was, but not for the reason they probably thought. I was sorry I blurted out the words because it messed up the plan I had. I was going to attack Louise with compliments, not accusations, and it was probably too late for that. But maybe not.

  “Gee, I don’t know where those outbursts came from,” I lied. “Probably my blood sugar,” lying again. I saw George trying to stifle a laugh, and I was hoping that meant he had forgiven my earlier unprofessional outburst. “You can tell I’m not a police officer.”

  Louise looked confused. “If you aren’t a cop, then why are you here?”

  I thought that this was the perfect time to get her more comfortable. “Well, Detective Lansing is my fiancé. When I found out he was coming to Henderson, I tagged along because I had a brochure for your workshop, and I had always wanted to go. I attended it yesterday.”

  It was almost as if I’d never said anything threatening or inappropriate. Louise smiled her smarmiest smile and said, “Did you enjoy it, Miss…”

  “My name is Sam,” I said, sticking out my hand. “Actually it’s Samantha Darling, but everyone calls me Sam.”

  “I will call you, Samantha, I believe.” When she said that, still smiling, I knew I had her.

  “And this is my dog and best friend, Clancy.” I reached down to give Clancy a scritch.

  “George, would it be okay if I talked to Louise about the seminar while you talk to Jonah? Then you can talk to Louise afterward.” I held my hand up with the palm outward, as if I were swearing to tell the truth in court.

  George nodded, but then he apparently decided I needed some instruction. He pulled me off to the side and said, “Don’t you dare say or do anything that might jeopardize this case. If you even begin to question her about the murder, they can use that in court. Entrapment, or something.” George seemed focused yet scattered at the same time. I think I have that effect on him.

  “I promise. I’ll just soften her up for you.”

  “Just be careful, Sam.” There was a warning in his tone that I took seriously.

  I walked back to Louise and took her arm. “Is there somewhere you and I could speak without disturbing them?”

  And just as I’d hoped, she said, “Yes, we can go into Jonah’s office. It’s just through here.” She indicated a door at the far end of the conference room.

  I didn’t know why, but I thought that Jonah’s office might hold some interesting clues. I followed Louise to the door, and felt George’s eyes staring a hole through my back. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning around, but did plan to honor his request. I sure didn’t want to be the one to ruin the case. Once I got the murderer to confess, no matter who the murderer was, I wanted it to stick.

  Clancy was at my side, looking torn on whether to follow me or stay with George and Jonah.

  “Who do you want to stay with girl? It’s your choice.” Even though she loved George, her loyalty to me won out and she stayed at my side as we left the conference room.

  Jonah’s office surprised me. I don’t really know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Glass and chrome reflected the sun from the windows and the light from overhead. Everything was modern, except for an old wooden table, perhaps used for smaller meetings.

  I must have made a noise, because Louise said, “I just finished redecorating Jonah’s office. I couldn’t tolerate it one more day. That,” she pointed toward the wooden table, “is a remnant from his old office. He actually refused to part with it.” Her nose crinkled as if the table itself smelled of bad taste. “Let’s sit here,” she said, indicating two sling-back chairs.

  I dreaded the thought. Those chairs were hard to get out of for thin people. My ample derriere would need a crane. However, I didn’t want to cause a fuss, and wanted her to remain in a good mood and talkative.

  So I plopped. Clancy sat by the chair. I could tell she was amused by my predicament.

  “Why in the world would you think I killed my nephew?”

  I noticed that she didn’t express surprise that I said it to her husband too.

  “I don’t really think that,” I lied. “I have a disease where there’s no thought prior to my speaking.” That wasn’t really a lie. It’s called not having a filter. Then came the lie, “It might be a blood sugar problem. It comes and goes however, and right now I’m fine.”

  The silly woman appeared to believe me. I’d tell her the truth later. But for now I wanted her to be the one to have loose lips.

  “I really am sorry we got off to a bad start,” I said. “I’d love to find out more about you and your fascinating business.”

  Hook, line, and sinker—that’s how she fell for it.

  THIRTEEN

  “Yes, you’re right. My business is fascinating.” She picked at non-existent lint on her black suit—a lovely jacket with a frilly cream-colored blouse underneath, over a pencil skirt. Since we were in the sling back chairs I could see she wore translucent black pantyhose and heels I’d break my ankle in. She crossed her legs and seemed to relax. “Did you sign up as an associate?”

  “Uh, no. I thought about it, but I’m really busy with the jobs I have right now. I did buy a bottle and enjoyed it. Does the water have special properties?”

  “Why, yes. Yes, it does, Samantha.” Why was it this woman spoke to me as if she were the teacher and I her adoring student paying rapt attention? I thought I’d go with it though, and play the role of student, if that’s what she wanted. I thought it would appeal to her massive ego.

  I let her go on and on about the virtues of the water, never making an outright claim that it would cure cancer, grow hair, and bring on world peace, but coming dangerously close to it. Whether or not she had anything to do with the murder, I didn’t yet know, but she was a villai
n. No doubt.

  Clancy agreed with my assessment. She lay close to my chair, but her eyes never left Louise.

  I decided to try a new tactic. “I’m not going to talk about the murder because I said I wouldn’t, but I’d like to ask you a question about the plant.” Taking her silence for assent, I continued, “Do you have anything to do with the plant, its operations, or management?”

  “Yes. Even though the business is quite successful, Jonah runs a lean operation. When people call in sick or take vacation, it causes undue stress to the other workers. Occasionally I will help out in shipping. That way the shipping people can fill in where the absent ones leave a gap.”

  “Shipping? In the warehouse? Isn’t that where your nephew worked?” I knew the answer but wanted to hear her response.

  “Yes. It made it easier for me to help out, working with someone I knew.” She dabbed at non-existent tears with a lace handkerchief. “Someone I loved.”

  I pretended to believe her calculated emotions. “I am so sorry for your loss. I don’t think I said that yet.” I tried to sit forward in the chair, but only made myself look silly and uncoordinated. Then feigning innocence, I asked, “Did Cash help you with your business too?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I paid him of course.”

  “Of course,” I echoed. “By the way, I applaud you for being able to pull off the workshop while grieving so painfully.”

  She looked at me, as if she almost sensed my sarcasm, but then must have decided to take my words at face value.

  “Yes, my dear.” My dear? “I decided that my message was much too important for me to cancel the presentation. ‘The show must go on,’ as they say.”

  I thought her last line was apropos. She was like a carnival huckster, wanting to bring the patsies into the fold—where they would be stuck.

  “You’re really something.” This was not a lie, but the look of adoration on my face was. “So you worked with Cash sometimes. I’m sorry, but you don’t look like you could lift those heavy boxes of urns….” I didn’t really finish, but waited for her response.