Word Has It (Wordplay Mysteries Book 1) Page 6

  “Hmm. I see. So perhaps Carl became antsy, thinking the burglars were out to snatch a getaway car.”

  She said it more as a statement to herself. Wanda finished her water and thanked Beverly. Then she headed to the police station to persuade Chief Brooks into letting her speak with Carl. Perhaps the same calm manner of persuasion would work on the chief. What’s good for the goose . . . as they say.

  “Absolutely not.” Chief’ Brooks’ thundering voice bounced off the low ceiling and around the main room of the police station.

  “But, Chief Brooks, it is only for a minute. I can’t help but take some responsibility for his actions.” She glanced down at her hands and sniffled.

  The police chief coughed into his fist and took a step back. Good. Seeing a woman get emotional typically unnerved him. Out of the corner of her eye she detected his jaw soften.

  “Okay. But what transpires must be recorded in front of a police officer. Jim Bob, set up the examination room.”

  Wanda thanked him with as sweet a little-old-lady smile as she could muster and sat on the bench to wait. She glanced around the room and her eyes fell on a notice on the bulletin board to the right. A modern “wanted poster” of sorts briefly described the three robbers as captured by the jewelry store’s security camera. From the fuzzy picture, she couldn’t make out any facial details. They wore all black and had on makeshift black masks. One seemed taller, one stockier, and one, by his stature, appeared to be older. The ringleader? No pun intended.

  She squinted to read more. Fingerprints had been found inside of a glove discarded in the dumpster two doors down. They belonged to a Butch McClain, whoever he was.

  Wanda scoffed. Dumb move on Butch’s part at any rate. She pulled out her phone, called up the internet, and keyed in his name in the search bar of the Texas Department of Public Safety’s criminal lookup website. There she discovered that he was on parole for armed robbery of an antique coin shop in Weatherford in 2002. Bingo.

  But had he been the one that Carl shot? How would she find out? Maybe wiggle it out of Todd? Perhaps not. She skated on thin ice with him as it was. And if he saw her here in the police station? His attitude wouldn’t exactly melt that ice.

  He wouldn’t come on duty until the afternoon, since he usually took the later shift, leaving the early one for Jim Bob who had a family. The clock showed 10:45. Plenty of time, even if he waltzed in early to do paperwork.

  “Mrs. Warner?” Jim Bob appeared and beckoned her with his finger. He held the door open to a sparse room with a rectangular, metal table surrounded by four folding chairs, similar to the ones they used in the Holy Hill fellowship hall. Carl sat with a scowl on his face, slumped into one of the chairs on the other side of the table. His hands remained on the table, cuffed with plastic ties.

  Jim Bob motioned for her to sit on the near side and closed the door. He punched the tape recorder button. “I believe you two know each other. But for the record, Mrs. Wanda Lee Warner of Spruce Drive has requested five minutes with the suspect, Carl Smithers, owner of Carl’s Used Cars.”

  Wanda swiveled around as her eyes widened. “Five minutes? That’s all?”

  Carl let out a sinister snicker. “Talk fast, Wanda. Whatcha need to know?”

  She barely had time to think. Why had she not gone over sample questions in her head? “Um, I guess I wanted to know why you decided to go on patrol before we had formally organized a neighborhood watch?”

  He stared at his cuffs. After a long second, he spoke without glancing at her as if ashamed. “The neighborhood watch had nothing to do with it. I told the chief last week I suspected my cars were being cased. He blew it off. So, I have been prowling the streets since then on the lookout for any strangers. Haven’t slept in five days.”

  Then she noticed the dark, sallow circles and drawn cheeks. Sleep-deprived and on edge, the man had snapped and acted hastily. Surely the judge would take that into account.

  “I was eager to get this neighborhood watch going so I could get some shut-eye. I have nothing against your efforts, Wanda. You’re in no way to blame.”

  Then his eyes slowly raised to meet hers. Did she detect a new cynicism she’d never seen before?

  Gazing back, she questioned her instincts. One thing she did know, if Carl was innocent, it was up to her to prove it. The police obviously thought they had their man.

  “I understand. Thank you for speaking with me.” She tried to send him a mental message that she would help. With the tape recorder softly whirring and capturing every sound, it seemed the only way to communicate her plan.

  Carl’s eyes narrowed for a split second. A slight nod followed. Then Jim Bob announced that their time was up.

  Wanda stood. “I hope I can visit you again in a few days.”

  The prisoner wet his lips. Did he get her drift?

  She certainly hoped so.

  Jim Bob escorted her out of the room, just as Todd strolled down the hall from the backdoor where the squad car parking lot stood.

  Oh, boy.

  Chapter Ten

  Wanda held up both hands to stop Todd from responding. “I came to see Carl. With the chief’s permission.”

  He slowed his pace and grumbled an okay as he passed by her.

  Obviously, things still remained icy between them. Wanda felt her heart crunch. Would he cancel on her for lunch? She hoped not. Somehow, she had to juggle proving Carl’s intentions were not criminal while saving her nephew’s face.

  The clock over the police station desk showed 11:10. Almost two hours. That gave her time to do two things. Pray, and then recruit Betty Sue and Evelyn to assist her. Maybe if they worked together, it wouldn’t seem as much of a slap for her nephew.

  She stopped and stared at a flock of sparrows darting to a sprawling oak tree in the courthouse square. Who was she kidding? Everyone would figure out she was the ringleader.

  She needed guidance. She walked up the block back to Holy Hill church and slipped inside the sanctuary. The place oozed peace. Dark woods smelled of lemon oil. The sunlight streaming through the stained glassed windows laced the pews with soft colors like a celestial veil. A still coolness embraced her shoulders in a welcoming hug. She slipped into one of the back pews and closed her eyes. Maybe she’d get some divine inspiration.

  A Bible lay open on the pew. It was turned to Ephesians 6. She scrunched her forehead as she picked it up and scanned it. The twenty-first verse caught her attention. Tychicus, the dear brother and faithful servant in the Lord, will tell you everything, so that you also may know how I am and what I am doing.

  Her breath hitched. That was it. She’d keep Todd posted on anything she discovered and let him take the glory. Her heart became pounds lighter.

  Pastor Bob entered from the side and began walking down the center aisle. “Wanda, may I help you?” His strong, baritone voice echoed off the rafters.

  She grinned. “No, Pastor Bob. God just has. Thanks.”

  She scurried to gather her purse and scooted out of the pew. But as she pressed the large wooden door open, she turned to see her minister reading the Bible left open on the pew and scratching his head.

  Oh, well. She’d explain it to him one day. Not now, though. Wanda texted Evelyn since it was her friend’s preferred means of communication. Betty Sue always wanted a phone call. She asked them both to meet her at the Coffee Bean at noon. That would give her time to surf a bit more about Butch McClain on the public computer at the library. Barbara wouldn’t mind her using it this time of the day. The kids were all still in school. Much better than squinting at her small phone screen or dashing back home. That would be a waste of time.

  Luckily, the library windows faced south so the sun didn’t beat in. The temperature inside felt great. She wiggled her fingers at Barbara behind the checkout counter and pointed to the table with the computer.

  The librarian smiled and nodded as she processed the books from the return bin.

  Wanda passed Fred at one of the wooden tables
. He glanced up from the newspaper spread out in front of him and silently greeted her. Nice man. She had caught him gazing a tad too long at Betty Sue during the fellowship coffee hour several times, but not in an inappropriate manner. More like in a sweet, high school crush sort of way. They had worked together on the school board for decades, but back then, both were married. Now both widowed, she wondered if perhaps . . .

  Enough meddling. She had some investigating to do.

  She booted up the computer, following the instructions posted on the monitor. Within a few minutes she found an article about McClain and a picture. Bingo.

  Wanda zoomed the grainy online photo to 250 percent and studied the facial features as best she could. He appeared to be in his mid-forties. A harshness outlined his jawline and his eyes squinted like a sewer rat’s. Of course, that might be a reaction to the camera flash. Did cameras still flash? Surely, they did. The one on her phone worked that way at night. But then again, she didn’t take that many night pictures . . .

  Oh Wanda, concentrate. Her mind bounced from thought to thought a lot lately. She had to focus. She copied and pasted the photo onto a new document and hit print so she could bring it up at the neighborhood watch meeting the next evening. She could show it to Todd and ask if this resembled the corpse in the morgue at the medical center. At least she assumed they had a morgue. The nearest funeral parlor was in Cleburne fifteen miles away. No way would the coroner take him there, right?

  “Doing research?”

  Fred’s whisper made her jolt. She inhaled a long breath. “Fred, you made me jump out of my skin.”

  “Sorry.” His face became penitent, almost like a puppy who had piddled on the oriental rug.

  She gave him grace. “It’s okay. I was at the police station earlier . . .”

  “What for? Oh, yes, your nephew is on the force now. So glad to see him back in the fold, so to speak.”

  “Yes. Anyway, I saw a notice and it said one of the burglars of that jewelry heist in Burleson, Butch McClain, had a previous record of theft. I wanted to find out what I could and print his photo for the neighborhood watch groups, just in case.”

  He motioned if he could sit next to her. She agreed and he eased himself into the chair and leaned toward her ear to whisper. “I am so glad you thought about organizing one. I mean, Scrub Oak is still small, and we all know each other, but you never know. North Texas has jobs and land. Many folks from places like L.A. and Chicago are moving down here. Big city crime is bound to follow. I have been reading about it in an editorial in the Dallas Times.” He hooked his thumb back to the table where he’d been sitting. “Carl told me about it and suggested I read it.”

  “Really?” Wanda swiveled to face him. “Maybe you’d like to address that tomorrow evening at the meeting. You are planning to attend, correct?”

  “Um, yes.” His cheeks became ruddy, which accented his soft blue eyes and white hair. “I suppose I could.”

  “Good.”

  He cocked his head to view the computer monitor. “Hey, that’s the thief Carl mentioned. He knew he was out on parole and suspected he might be involved in the jewelry heist.”

  “Carl knew him?”

  “Well, no. But he knew of him. Carl keeps up with this sort of stuff.”

  “I had no idea.” Had Carl recognized Butch as the man in the woods and shot him?

  “Shhhh.” Barbara raised her finger to her lips.

  Wanda sighed. She lowered her voice. “We’ll chat later.”

  He winked, mouthed the word ‘okay’, and tiptoed back to his chair.

  Yes, he and Betty Sue might make a good match . . . stop. Back to Butch McClain. She printed out a few more details about the Weatherford crime that had previously convicted him and then began to research if crime had indeed grown in the past year or so around the Metroplex. While most cities in Texas showed a decrease, Dallas, the biggest city in the area, showed the opposite. Not a comforting fact.

  She typed in crime report Fort Worth in the search bar since it was the nearest large city and also where Officer McIntyre had jurisdiction. It pulled up the National Incident Based Reporting System (NIBRS) statistics. She downloaded the document and sent it to her email so she could print it out for people to have.

  The clock on the lower left bar of the monitor showed 11:58. Already? She shut everything down, grabbed her photo of McClain, and waved goodbye to Fred and Barbara. She dashed to the grocer’s, the sun already pounding on her back.

  Wanda noticed Evelyn park her robin-egg blue Honda and called out to her, slightly out of breath. She really did have to join Betty Sue on her daily sunrise strolls more often. Betty Sue already waited inside and had commandeered a table.

  “My, Wanda. You are perspiring. Have you been exercising?”

  Wanda slid into a one of the bistro chairs and mopped her brow with one of the paper napkins from the chrome dispenser. “I have been walking all over downtown. Which is why I wanted to meet with you two. This morning I went to the police station and spoke to Carl.”

  “Do tell.” Evelyn scooted in beside them.

  Wanda recounted her events and conversations, with Carl, the chief, and with Fred in the library.

  “Interesting.” Betty Sue re-tucked her skirt around her legs. “But why call a meeting with us?”

  Priscilla set down three tumblers of iced water. “What can I get for you ladies? I have a rich blend from a missionary in Uganda on special.”

  Wanda ordered an iced light roast latte with vanilla. Evelyn, with a heart for missions, decided to try the Ugandan special. Betty chose a green tea from Japan.

  Wanda waited for Priscilla to go make their drinks then answered Betty Sue’s question. “I looked in Carl’s face. I honestly do not believe he meant to kill that guy. In fact, I think he may have recognized him as a burglar and shot at him to make him stop.”

  “You mean wound him in the leg or something so he couldn’t run while Carl called the police?”

  “Yes, Evelyn. I think so. But instead, he aimed too high.” Wanda took a long gulp of the iced water just as Priscilla brought their orders.

  “Make sense.” Evelyn snorted. “Carl always loves to go deer hunting but he never lands one. I heard he has a horrid aim. Leave it to him to try and maim the guy and hit his heart instead.”

  “From whom, Evelyn?” Betty Sue wrinkled her button nose. She’d told Wanda before that she never could understand why men wanted to kill such graceful, gentle creatures.

  “I don’t recall. Around. He used to go shooting with Aurora’s hubby.”

  Betty Sue gasped. “The one who was killed in a hunting accident last year?” She turned to Wanda. “You don’t think Carl accidentally shot him, too, do you?”

  Evelyn gazed at Wanda. “Do you?”

  Wanda felt the blood slip from her face. “I, um . . . don’t know. No one ever said.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The latte sloshed in Wanda’s gut as Betty Sue and Evelyn chatted about the article. Could Carl be a double murderer? Or just a really bad shot?

  She would have to stealthily pry more information on that from Todd. Aurora’s husband had been fatally shot while on a deer hunt in the first week of Todd’s joining the force. She recalled that much vividly.

  “But it was ruled an accident, right?” Wanda half-mumbled it to herself.

  “What?” Evelyn glanced up from the mug shot. “Did you say something?”

  “Aurora’s husband. An accidental death.”

  “Yes. That is how they ruled it. Stray bullet from a careless hunter. So many come around here in the fall. No way to tell whose unless they did forensics on every shotgun in the county.” Evelyn took a sip of her coffee. “Ugh. This could strip wallpaper.”

  “That’s why I always stick to green tea. Plenty of caffeine, very little acidity. Antioxidants, too.” Betty Sue raised her cup in a semi-toast.

  “But it has no taste.” Evelyn shuddered as she took another gulp of her brew.

 
“And that has too much.”

  Wanda half-heard them. She still mulled over the possibility of Carl killing . . . what had his name been? On the edge of her memory. Robert, perhaps. Pronounced Ro-bear. Yes, that was it.

  He’d been Aurora’s third husband, if she recalled correctly. The woman had always attracted men like gnats, even in high school. Prom queen, head cheerleader, crowned Miss Oakmont County two years in a row.

  Betty Sue’s laugh hit her ears. She waggled a finger at Wanda. “I know that expression. You are thinking about Aurora, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty.”

  “You two never got along. You the tomboy, she the princess.”

  Wanda felt a sudden penitence. “Still, no one deserves to lose a husband that way. We all know that.”

  The other two widows nodded and dropped their eyes. Evelyn’s had been killed in war, and Betty Sue’s died of prostate cancer. Wanda’s beloved Big Bill, as everyone called him, had never come home from a business convention. He had a heart attack in the night, and the hotel chambermaid discovered him the next morning. Ten years ago.

  “Maybe we should be more friendly to her. Invite her for a Saturday brunch. It must get lonely in that chalet on the lake.” Wanda pushed the rest of her iced latte away.

  “Right. With her indoor Olympic-sized pool, fifty-inch TV, and piped-in music.” Evelyn sniffed.

  “How did you know that?”

  “You told me, Wanda. When you were staking out the resort from her backyard and peeked in the windows.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Betty Sue patted Wanda’s hand. “You have a good heart. Maybe you two could actually turn out to be friends.”

  Wanda rolled her eyes. “Hospitable, maybe.”

  The ladies said goodbye. Evelyn went to do some grocery shopping. Betty Sue headed to Anna’s to pick up something for her great aunt’s ninetieth birthday in a few weeks. Wanda shuffled back to Sally’s near the Courthouse Square to meet Todd. Her feet ached. They were not used to such abuse. Not since she had taken that church tour of Scotland four years ago.