52 Steps to Murder (6 page)

At my third house, I encountered the “Mrs. Wilkens” Mr. Silverman had mentioned. She told me why my luck was bad. The first house was vacant, and the second house might as well have been. Someone had rented it, but chose not to live there.

“Mark my word, Lieutenant, there’s something illegal going on in that house.”

I smiled and promised to check it out. Already I could tell that if I gained no new information at this house, it would not be because of Mrs. Wilkens’s unwillingness to talk. This was not a woman who sat idly by while the neighbors went about their business, nor was this the person I wanted to share my secrets with.

“I always try to be a concerned citizen. Not enough people do that, nowadays. Anyway, you’re not going to find anyone home next door. They’ve gone to Florida for a month.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if they took the trip solely to get away from Mrs. Wilkens.

“Mrs. Jarvis lives next to them, but I doubt if you can raise her. She’s in a wheelchair and almost never answers her door. Of course, feel free to try if you want to. Miss Penrod lives in the next house. Claimed she was leaving on a trip this morning, but I don’t trust that woman. Lies more than a lazy dog.” 

As I listened to Mrs. Wilkens, I wondered why the murderer hadn’t already been identified, considering that Mrs. Wilkens and Mr. Silverman lived on the street and probably took turns doing sentry duty. Surely, no fortress in history had had better lookouts. Mrs. Wilkens continued her job as the immobile tour guide. I listened in case she said something that would later prove helpful.

“I suppose you know that poor old Mrs. Nelson lived in the next house. God rest her soul.”

“How do you know that Mrs. Nelson’s dead?” I asked, as I carefully hid the smile that loomed just inside.

“Well, I was sitting on the porch when they carted her out. Her face was covered, and when someone’s face is covered there’s not a lot of chance for recovery.”

“Except for Lazarus.”

“You have a point there, Lieutenant. Maybe you shouldn’t bury her for a few days. You know, Jesus was a few days late getting to Lazarus. Anyway, Lieutenant, let me finish quick so I can get to my beans. I’m canning the last of my beans today. Miss Overstreet lives on the other side of Mrs. Nelson. Good Christian woman, and she should be home. She can tell you all about the old biddy with the psychotic son who lives in the last house.”    

Mrs. Wilkens did not mention Mrs. Reynolds by name. When Mrs. Wilkens began to tell me about everyone on the other side of the street, I interrupted and told her that I had a man talking to those people. I decided to ask her one more question before I left and was glad that I did.

“Mrs. Wilkens, did you happen to see anyone on the street today that doesn’t live on this street?”

“Mr. Hartley, of course. I saw him when he handed me my mail.”

“Does he have a habit of knocking on your door and handing you your mail, or did you just happen to see him coming?”

“Neither. I was sitting on the porch then, too. He went down the other side, started up this one, checked in on Mrs. Nelson, and a few minutes later brought me my mail.”

“You were sitting on the porch all that time?”

“Longer than that, Lieutenant.”

“Wasn’t it a little cool to be sitting outside this morning?”

“I had my sweater on. I enjoyed the breeze.”

“So, did you see anyone other than Mr. Hartley this morning?”

“Oh, my, yes.”

“Mrs. Wilkens, maybe you’d better start at the beginning and tell me who all you saw this morning.”

“Well, first was Irene Penrod. Right after I poured my coffee and came out on the porch, she came out of Mrs. Jarvis’s house.”

“Do you have any idea what time that was?”

“Yes, because Irene asked me if I had the time, and I looked and told her it was 9:13.”

“Do you have any idea why she went to see Mrs. Jarvis?”

“None whatsoever.”

“And what did she do when she left Mrs. Jarvis’s?”

“Went right to Mrs. Nelson’s house.”

“Did she have any trouble getting in?”

“No, I suppose she just pushed the buzzer and Mrs. Nelson let her in.”

“You didn’t see Mrs. Nelson let her in, did you?”

“Of course not, Lieutenant. Mrs. Nelson was confined to her bed ever since her fall. Of course, I still think she was pushed. Anyway, Mrs. Nelson had to buzz Miss Penrod in.”

“Any evidence Mrs. Nelson was pushed?”

Mrs. Wilkens smiled. I could tell she was glad her comment piqued my interest.

“I didn’t see it happen, if that’s what you mean.”

“Any suspects?”

“My guess is the loony did it.”

“You mean the guy in the last house? The Reynolds boy?”

“That’s right, the loony.”

“And why do you say that?”

“I was sitting on my porch that morning when he came running out of Mrs. Nelson’s house hollering like a hive of bees were after him.”

“You’re talking about Jimmy Reynolds?”

“That’s right, the loony.”

“I ran in immediately and called Irene Penrod and told her she should check on Mrs. Nelson.”

“And did she?”

“She did. Even Stanley Silverman got in on the act. I guess his binoculars don’t see through brick walls.”

“Who got there first?”

“Irene. She found Mrs. Nelson on the floor at the bottom of the steps, called an ambulance, and they came and took her to the hospital.”

“Did Mrs. Nelson say what happened?”

“She said she fell. I’m not so sure. All I know is the old biddy kept the loony in the house for the next three days. Even after that she kept him on a shorter leash.”   

“Back to today, Mrs. Wilkens. All of this happened before you saw Mr. Hartley?”

“That’s right. Mr. Hartley pulled onto the street just after Irene went into Mrs. Nelson’s house.”

“And how much later was it when he entered the Nelson house?”

“Oh, I’d say five or six minutes.”

“And how long did he stay?”

“A few minutes. It was 9:35 exactly when he handed me my mail. I know because I’d turned the radio on. I like to listen to those call-in shows in the morning, and they were just coming back from a news break.”

“Who left the Nelson house first, Mrs. Wilkens? Mr. Hartley or Mrs. Penrod?”

“Mr. Hartley. Irene left about five minutes after he handed me my mail.”

“And did you see anyone else this morning?”

“Yeah, the old biddy opened the door to check on the loony several times.  He’d come out of his house and was hiding behind a tree. He was there most of the morning. She probably came out to make sure he didn’t hang any squirrels.”

I suppressed a laugh and asked my next question.

“And did you see anyone else?”

“Well, Stanley Silverman was looking out his window watching what was going on.”

“Did you notice how long he was there?”

“Well, the first time I noticed him was when Mr. Hartley delivered his mail. He sat there awhile, then he left for a few minutes, and then he came back again.”

“Do you know when he came back?”

“He might’ve been gone fifteen minutes or so. He was sitting there when Irene left and was still there when Angela’s taxi pulled up.”

“Tell me about that, Mrs. Wilkens.”

“Not much to tell. Irene left in one cab and Angela came a few minutes later in another one.”

“What did Angela do?”

“Went up to the house. Looked like she rang the buzzer. Waited a couple of minutes and then went over to Irene’s and rang the bell. Naturally, no one came to the door. Then, she went back to her grandmother’s and stood on the porch. Looked like she called somebody and then a few minutes later a police car pulled up. Just about that time my phone rang, so I went in to get it.”

“So, you didn’t see anyone else?”

“Well, after I got off the phone I remembered that I left my coffee on the front porch. Came out just in time to see Bobby, the grocery boy, running up the street. Jumped in his car and took off. A minute or so later, this cop comes running out of the Nelson house. I picked up my cold coffee and headed in the house to put my beans on.”

“When did you first notice Bobby’s car?”

“When he left. Wasn’t there when I first came out on the porch.”

I thanked Mrs. Wilkens for her help and turned to leave. I was sure that before she got to her beans she would call at least one friend to tell her how she had helped the police department solve a murder.

Like Mrs. Wilkens predicted, I found no one else at home until I arrived at Miss Overstreet’s house. While it was obvious that Miss Overstreet didn’t like Mrs. Reynolds, thankfully, I did not find Miss Overstreet as talkative as Mrs. Wilkens. Mrs. Overstreet hadn’t seen or heard anyone that morning.

I had no problem with downhill, but going up steps was another matter. I paused so often that I’d consumed almost two chocolate bars in the time it took me to navigate one side of the street. This allowed Lou to finish his side of the street before I arrived at my last house. We met on the sidewalk and paused to compare notes before beginning our final assent.

Before I climbed the steps to the Reynolds’s house, I removed the rest of my candy bar from my pocket and ate the remaining two nuts and surrounding chocolate in one bite, something I seldom do. After I licked my fingers and put the wrapper back in my pocket, I led the way as Lou and I headed upward to question Mrs. Reynolds and her son Jimmy, who likes to hide behind trees.

7

I stared at the woman who stood in front of me. She wore a scarf over her head to cover the bobby pins that adorned her gray hair. She wore a frown on her face. I wasn’t sure what the frown was meant to cover. The hardened look on Mrs. Reynolds face was enough to scare any child, even if her arms were loaded with Christmas presents.

“Mrs. Reynolds, I presume?”

My first impression was to agree with Mrs. Wilkens. At any rate, I wasn’t as excited to see her as Stanley was to see Dr. Livingstone.

“Who wants to know?” asked the scowling woman, who was probably younger than she looked. Surely her heart had been extracted from the same quarry as her face.

“I’m Lt. Dekker and this is Sgt. Murdock. We’re detectives with the Hilldale Police Department.”

Mrs. Reynolds, obviously irritated that two detectives had rung her doorbell, said, “I ain’t done nothing wrong,” and attempted to shut her door.

“No one has said you did, Mrs. Reynolds,” I replied, as I reached and grabbed the door before she could shut it.

“Well, then, why are you bothering me?”

“Mrs. Reynolds, do you know Mrs. Nelson?”

“Yeah. I knew her. What of it?”

“Knew her, Mrs. Reynolds?”

“Well, she’s dead, ain’t she?”

“And how do you know that, Mrs. Reynolds?”

“Someone told me.”

“And would that someone be your son Jimmy?”

“Leave Jimmy out of this,” the woman replied in a voice even louder and less friendly than before.

“Mrs. Reynolds, when was the last time you saw Mrs. Nelson?”

“Today.”

“You went over to her house today?”

“No, I saw your men drag her out. I wanted to see if they dropped her on the way down.”

Lou tried hard not to smile. I could tell that he figured I had met my match.

“And when was the last time you saw her prior to today?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a while.”

“Did you know Mrs. Nelson had a fall?”

“Is that what killed her?”

“I’m talking about her fall a few days ago.”

“Heard about that. So what of it?”

“And have you seen her since?”

“No.”

“No? No visit to see how she was doing?” I asked, as I raised my eyebrows for emphasis.

“She had someone to look in on her.”

“And who was that?”

“Miss Penrod, and Mr. Hartley the mailman, but I suppose you already knew that.”

“Mrs. Reynolds, did you have a key to Mrs. Nelson’s house?”

“No.”

“Are you sure, Mrs. Reynolds? Someone told me they thought you had a key.”

“Must have been that no good Mr. Silverman. He had a key, or at least his mother had one. Imagine he has it now.”

I made a mental note that I must invite Mr. Silverman and Mrs. Reynolds to dinner on the same night. If I did, I could charge admission.

“And where can I find Mr. Silverman’s mother?”

“At the cemetery, I guess. That’s where they usually put people when they die. She died suddenly a couple of months ago. Imagine he killed her. Maybe he used her key to kill Mrs. Nelson, too.”

“Back to you, Mrs. Reynolds. Are you sure you don’t have a key to Mrs. Nelson’s house?”

“Used to. Don’t anymore. Gave it back to her.”

“By her, do you mean Mrs. Nelson?”

“No, I meant her grandmother. Of course, I meant Mrs. Nelson. Who did you think I meant?”

“Well, you could have meant her granddaughter.”

“Angela. She has a key. She’s probably the one that did it. Probably killed her to get all that money.”

Totally perturbed with Mrs. Reynolds’s comments, I couldn’t resist my response.

“Do you think she and Mr. Silverman did it together?”

“Wouldn’t put it past them.”

I noticed a small movement behind the door and realized that Jimmy hid behind dead trees as well as live ones.

“What about Jimmy? Where’s he been today?”

“Been here with me.”

“All the time?”

“Well, he was here when the old lady got murdered.”

“Oh, and who told you she got murdered?”

“I did.”

“Mrs. Reynolds, you might be of great help to us. I need to know the time of the murder.”

“Sometime before they carried her out.”

“Mrs. Reynolds, I need to talk to Jimmy.”

“I told you to leave him out of this.”

“I just need to ask him a couple of questions.”

“He isn’t here.”

“He’s been with you all day, but he isn’t here now. Are you sure?”

“Well, he’s too sick to talk right now.”

“He’s not too sick to stand behind the door and listen to us. Let’s see how sick he is.”

“No.”

“Mrs. Reynolds, we need to talk to Jimmy. Now, I can talk to him here, or I can take him downtown and talk to him. Whichever you think is better.”