Dumpster Dicing (Bunco Biddies Book 1) Page 15

  Janie spurted out a laugh. “I think he’s already got you overheated, and then some.”

  Betsy Ann’s lower lip curled down. “If you are going to make fun of me...”

  “No. Of course not. I am sorry. Being incapacitated has pushed my grumpy button.”

  “Well, I imagine it is hard to lie around all day. Are you in pain?”

  Janie rubbed her hand over the splint. “No, not so much now that my foot is stabilized. And I have been able to put an itsy bit of weight on the heel.”

  Betsy Ann waggled her finger. “The doctor said...”

  “I know. What info did you...and George...glean from the microfiche?”

  Her eyes lit up, making Janie realize why they put light bulbs over cartoon character’s heads. “Oh, yes. I tucked it away so I wouldn’t forget.” She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her purse and reached across the coffee table to hand it to Janie.

  Janie opened the print-out and skimmed the article dated April, 2015. The report stated James Snow, Attorney at Law, had been instrumental in bringing forth new evidence to prove Edwin Newman’s innocence. “So?”

  “So George recalled him to often be the attorney for disgruntled prisoners. We researched further and he represented three inmates from 2008 through 2010 in heat-related illnesses. In 2011, he filed civil suits for five in one unit who claimed to have contracted food poisoning from bad beef.”

  “Ah. An ambulance chaser, except he’s more of a handcuff chaser, I guess.”

  Betsy Ann nodded. “Other attorneys call him the jailhouse dog, according to what George discovered. But here is the interesting thing. Marjorie Spellman had hired an attorney in Oklahoma, where she lived, to handle Edwin’s case.”

  “Where Edwin grew up.”

  “Right. But this guy convinced her to fire the other one and go with him since he had a license to practice in Texas.”

  Janie titled her head to one side. “How did you find that out?”

  Betsy Ann dug in her purse again and pulled out a small tablet. She licked her forefinger and flipped through a few pages. “Ah, here we go. An article in the Houston paper dated February 10th, which George located for me. But, of course, the reporter worded things more carefully.”

  “So? It makes sense, right? He was imprisoned here in this state.”

  “Yes, but the other attorney in Oklahoma could have been retained as a consultant. But this way, he didn’t receive any compensation from the settlement.”

  “Ah.” Janie twisted her torso to reach her glass of tea. After taking a long sip, she commented. “Am I guessing you think this might be a motive? I mean why kill Edwin? Why not snuff out the—what did you call him? The jailhouse dog?”

  “Because Edwin instigated the change. According to the article, he wanted to hire Snow because he often proved to be the prisoner’s advocate for several men in his unit.”

  “Still, an attorney chopping up a client? Doesn’t fit the M.O.”

  Betsy Ann wrinkled her brow. “M.O.?”

  “Modus operandi. His preferred method.”

  She nodded. “True. But hiring someone to do the dirty work might, yes?”

  The doorbell dinged.

  “I’ll get it for you.” Betsy Ann lifted herself from the chair and padded to the front door. Ethel burst in.

  “I just had a nice long talk with Marjorie Spellman.” Her eyes glowed with accomplishment.

  Janie waved her into the room. “Do tell. Betsy Ann has information as well. Why don’t y’all get yourselves something to drink from the fridge? Grab the tub of humus as well. The whole-wheat crackers are in the pantry.”

  A few minutes later, the three amateur sleuths gathered around the living room coffee table. Janie and Betsy Ann caught Ethel up on the conversation before listening to her report.

  “She seemed jittery, as if she suspected the place to be bugged.”

  “So you think this L.W. may have had a grudge against Edwin?”

  “Marjorie suspects something or she’d have told me his name out loud. Do you think he is out on parole?”

  Betsy Ann waved her hand. “I bet he’s still in jail and has people on the outside. You said it’s easy to look them up on the computer, right?”

  “Yes. Texas Public Information Act and all.”

  Ethel patted her hand. “I’ll go get your laptop.”

  “Got it right here on the floor.”

  Janie placed it on her lap, clicked the keyboard and squiggled the shiny blue mouse with her right hand. “I am so glad Melody bought me this wireless contraption for my birthday. I never could figure out how to use the square in the center of the laptop. Hurt my finger after a while, and the cursor never ended up where I wanted.” Her eyes dashed back and forth over the screen.

  “Well, with such a bright, metallic color, you won’t lose the thing often.” Betsy Ann grinned.

  “Unless Mrs. Fluffy bats at it and scoots it under the couch.” Ethel scoffed as she leaned in to view the monitor. “Well?”

  “Looking...looking. Ah, here. Weber, Lenny. Watson Pack Unit. Age 64. In for armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder. Incarcerated 1982, transferred in 2009. Wow, a lifer.”

  The three women all turned to each other as sly grins etched their lips. Ethel rubbed her arthritic hands together. “At last. Now we are getting somewhere, ladies.”

  Chapter Thirty-TWO

  Janie phoned Blake to relay what her team had unearthed. He whistled over the fiber optic wires. “Well, I must say. You ladies are taking this seriously. Good job. We can take it from here.”

  She pressed her molars together. Why do I feel as if I’m being dismissed? She envisioned him patting her on the head, handing her a quarter for her efforts and telling her to return to the playground. “Blake, we can do more if you allow us to help.”

  “Such as?”

  “Try to contact the Oklahoma attorney and get his spin. Talk to some of the released inmates and their families suing over the conditions, maybe even...”

  “Whoa. If you are thinking of a road trip to Oklahoma or Navasota, think again. Beside, you’re not supposed to leave the house, much less drive.”

  Janie exhaled a long breath. “Heard of an invention called email? And this thing called a phone can be used to speak with other people, too, Blake.”

  “Don’t get sassy.”

  “My foot hurts and I’m sick and tired of this couch. My rear end keeps going to sleep.”

  He chuckled. “I know it’s tough to have your wings clipped, old bird. You thrive on your independence, as I always suspected you would. I remember how worried Mel got after Jack died. I told her you’d be fine.”

  “She figured I shrivel up and suck my thumb, waiting for the grim reaper to find me and leave her an orphan. Matthew had his concerns as well, but my children should have known me better than that.”

  “How are he and Tiffany, and the kids?”

  “A lot cooler in New Jersey than we are here. But, Blake, back to the subject at hand.”

  The sound of him shifting in his home office chair filtered into her ear, followed by the telltale squeak of the hinges as he sat back. She envisioned him with his boots propped on the desk. And her daughter’s deep wrinkled frown if she caught him. The image made her giggle inside as he responded.

  “Okay. Thursday, I’m interviewing Edwin’s old roommate. I’ll see if he’ll tell me about Lenny Weber. I’ll talk to the guards and the warden as well.”

  “And what do you want us to do, Blake?”

  “Since I can’t stop you, why don’t you keep shaking the bushes for information? Someone hated Edwin Newman enough to kill him in such a heinous manner. Which took planning. What we call premeditation. I suspect you’re correct. The perp had to have been hired for the job.”

  “A paid executioner.”

  He grunted. “Afraid so. The coroner’s report confirmed the weapon to be a power saw of some sort. Like they use in a meat packing plant. I have a su
rveillance team monitoring the one about fifteen minutes west of Sunset Acres.”

  Janie’s brain flashed. The man who had broken in her apartment had hands with a lingering odor of hamburger meat. Had she crossed paths with the murderer? “Blake?”

  “Yes, Janie. I recall your statement about what your intruder’s hands. Don’t worry. Extra patrols are cruising your village. He won’t get into your place again. Not on my watch.”

  Her throat muscles eased. “Thanks, Blake.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, Janie. Just promise me one thing, okay?”

  “Sure. What?”

  “Let’s not talk about this in front of Mel and the kids. You know how she worries about you.”

  Janie grinned. “I do. As if her daughterly duty demanded she get an ulcer because I’m looking seventy-five in the face in a few years.”

  Blake’s chair squeaked again. “I hope I am half as active when I get to be your age and still have a sharp-as-a-tack brain like yours. You’re destined to outlive us all, Janie. I plan to do everything I can to ensure it happens.”

  Janie’s face warmed. She heard his unspoken message loud and clear. Blake Johnson now respected her as much as she did him. Who knew? “Goodnight, Blake.”

  “Night.”

  She sighed and stared at the black screen on her cell phone as a sliver of a smile etched across her lips. Sleuthing for the Alamoville police detectives might turn out to be a permanent thing. Wouldn’t Jack have gotten a kick out of that?

  “Here’s to you, my love.” She toasted the ceiling with her iced tea glass and nestled back into her pillow for some more internet surfing.

  Chapter Thirty-THREE

  Thursday morning arrived with a mockingbird singing outside her window. Janie smiled for the first time in days. This evening, the girls would come to play Bunco. A break in the boring routine of slouching on the sofa as the world turned without her. As she scooted and hobbled to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee, a ring tone on her cell phone played “Unchained Melody.”

  “Good morning, sweet daughter. How are you today?”

  “My, don’t you sound chipper? I have a surprise for you, Mom. I am sending the lady I have used for years from the Maid to Order service to come clean your condo this morning. That way, the place will be sparkling and shiny for the Bunco Biddies.”

  Janie squeaked a response as she tried to keep her heart from melting into her tear ducts. “Oh my, Mel. Are you sure? How thoughtful.”

  “Well, she is good. I trust her, and to be frank, I don’t have the time. If you need help with laundry, she can do some as well. Her name is Miranda.”

  “What time?”

  “Oh, in about an hour.”

  Janie rested her hip on the kitchen counter as the aroma of brewed coffee filled the room. “You get the best daughter of the year award.”

  Melody snickered. “Talk later, Mom. Gotta dash.”

  Janie shot a glance to the ceiling and mouthed the words, “Thank you, Lord.”

  The phone chimed again. Janie recognized Betsy Ann’s number.

  “Hi.”

  “Janie? Guess what? Last night, George located the ex-prisoner who filed the first civil action against the Texas prisons. And guess who his attorney is.”

  “No.”

  “Uh huh. The man lives near Dallas. George is picking me up in thirty minutes and we are going to go speak with him.”

  A splash of caution chilled Janie’s face. “Whoa. Wait. You just met this guy. Are you sure you want to travel two to three hours and back with him?”

  A nervous giggle came through the receiver. “Oh, Janie. If you’d met him, you wouldn’t need to ask. Besides, Ethel is coming as well, so see? We’ll have a proper chaperone. Since we aren’t meeting the gentleman until twelve-thirty, we’ll grab lunch on the way. We’ll be back in plenty of time to meet so we can catch you up before the Bunco Biddies arrive at six.”

  “Oh, very well. I worry about you at times.”

  Betsy Ann sniffed. “Which is why you’re a good friend, even if you do try to run everyone’s lives.”

  “I do not!”

  They both chuckled and hung up.

  * * *

  An hour later, Blake called. “Janie, I spoke with the warden on the phone. I have an appointment at two to speak with Edwin’s old inmate. Lenny Weber transferred two weeks ago to the facility near San Antonio. Seems he caused quite a ruckus in Navasota and they decided to nip things in the bud. He’s a pretty bad dude, with many connections on the outside.”

  “He did? That didn’t come up on the computer.”

  “Perhaps the state data entry clerks are running behind. They have a lot of prisoners to keep up with, much less arrest records, transfers, paroles....”

  “Hmmm, so you think he made have ordered the hit?”

  “Too early to tell, but sure is a possibility. On the way to Navasota from the unit in Abilene in ’09, his gang tried to hijack the transport van. The warden caught wind of several other attempts and the man is known for making demands of the prisoners who are being released. If they do jobs for him, he provides protection and income once they get out.”

  Janie thumped her fingernails on the back of the couch. “Sounds as if you may be on the right trail.”

  Blake laughed. “We’ll see. Half of my job is tracking leads only to run into brick walls and dead ends.”

  “Thanks for the update. So we proceed as planned?”

  “Yep. Keep researching at your end and trying to piece together Edwin’s movements in the village from Friday until you two found him on Tuesday.”

  Janie snapped her fingers. “Which reminds me. Dark van with a dent in the door.”

  “What?”

  Janie huffed a breath over her bangs. “My fault. I forgot to tell you. Ethel went to visit a friend of ours in the assisted section. Peggy Williams. She had a turn for the worst and her kids worried about her ability to live independently.”

  Blake’s voice became rushed. “And...?”

  “And, as she sat in her wheelchair in the observation lounge, she spotted a dark delivery truck with a huge dent on the passenger side drive through the security gates to the dumpster.”

  “When was this?”

  “Two Mondays ago at a little after two in the morning.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yep. And she thought it strange not only because of the hour, but the fact she had seen the exact same one leaving Sunset Acres earlier in the evening. So whoever drove had fairly extensive knowledge of our community.”

  “Such as?”

  “The gate code and the fact our trash pick-up is around seven on Tuesdays.”

  “Ahhh. So do you believe Edwin told his assaulter the code?”

  “It is possible. “

  “Which means he knew the perp.”

  “That’s one theory. Here’s another. My guess is the murderer either did his homework in hurry or has a relative who lives here. I can ask Mrs. Jacobs when she last had the code changed. I have six months ago in mind, but time flies at my age.”

  “Yes, do that. In the meantime, I’ll send one of the men to go talk with Mrs. Williams.”

  “Oh, she’d love that. I don’t think her kids visit her often. I will try to determine if Edwin had any visitors other than a woman who drank beer and had ruby lips.”

  “Janie, promise me you won’t...”

  “Oh, and another thing. The Red Oak police department reported a small moving van with a huge dent in the door stolen from a nearby body shop three weeks ago.”

  “Now, how in the world did you…?”

  She cut him off. “Bye, dear. Your sweet wife has hired a maid to come clean the place and I must get dressed before she rings the doorbell.”

  Chapter Thirty-FOUR

  Blake stared at the phone for a minute. At times, his mother-in-law seemed so sharp and at others, a bit loony. Yet all the time, she could be charmingly aggravating. Well, he imagined older people might ha
ve different perspectives on things. He’d never been around anyone her age before. His grandparents died before he hit high school and his parents were killed in a car accident right after Jamie was born. As horrific as it was at the time, he considered it a blessing in disguise. He’d never witness them wither into feebleness or dementia.

  Shuddering off the morbid segue, he jotted down the info on the stolen van and Peggy William’s name and walked down the hall to the common area where three investigative detectives shared an office. Connor Hemphill sat hunched over his computer, his eyes darting back and forth at the screen.

  Blake sauntered over and sat on the edge of the desk, unnoticed.

  “Your wife better not catch you looking at that stuff.”

  Hemphill jolted. “Huh? No, sir. I’m checking inmate records of who has been released from Watkins Pack over the past year and who their parole officers are.”

  “Only kidding.” He slapped him on the back. “I got another lead for you to follow.”

  The twenty-eight-year-old man pressed his spine into the back of his office chair, arms crossed over his chest. “Shoot.”

  Blake handed him the piece of paper. “Head over to Sunset Acres. Talk to this lady. She may have witnessed something. She’s in the assisted living section. Oh, and be prepared to have your ear chewed off. Understand her family doesn’t visit her much and she gets lonely.”

  The underling’s mouth scrunched to one side. “Seriously?”

  Blake snickered. “You’ll make her day, if not her week, you ol’ charmer.”

  “Right.” Hemphill pushed his desk chair away and clicked off his monitor. “Want me to check in on your laid-up mother-in-law while I’m there?”

  “I don’t want to torture you. Besides, she’s occupied this morning with other things. My cunning wife has seen to it.”

  Blake couldn’t help but notice his officer’s shoulders relax a touch. Hemphill nodded and turned to leave. He handed the other info to Phil Edwards, another one of his investigative team.

  “Call Red Oak. Get the scoop on this robbery for me, will you? Thanks.”