This Old Homicide

*

 

I spent most of Sunday cleaning my house and playing quietly in the garden with Robbie and Tiger. It wasn’t until Monday morning while I was waiting for the coffeepot to fill that I recalled what Eric had said about Jane being the most likely suspect. I knew he’d been teasing me and was only trying to scare me, but he’d succeeded. I was frightened and disturbed to think that the police might actually conclude that Jane was guilty. I couldn’t believe Eric would ever be that short-sighted—unless he found out about the necklace and the fact that we’d been hiding it from him.

 

That thought sent a chill skittering down my spine. He would probably arrest both of us. That settled it, I thought. It was time to sit down and figure out who really had killed Jesse.

 

“I’m going to need your help,” I said to Robbie as I pulled out a notepad and pen.

 

He shivered with energy and barked twice, telling me he was up to the task.

 

“You, too, Tiger,” I said to the cat as she prowled the kitchen. I sat down at the table with a cup of coffee and a piece of cinnamon toast, and made my own list of suspects and their motives.

 

“Definitely Cuckoo, right?” I said.

 

Robbie whined and I laughed. “I don’t like him either.” I glanced at my list. “What do you think of Bob and Ned?”

 

The little dog tilted his head as if to question why those two old guys were on my list.

 

“Yeah, they probably can’t swing a sledgehammer or an ax and pound a hole in the wall too easily at their age. But Stephen, Ned’s son?” I glanced down and Robbie barked enthusiastically.

 

“I think so, too,” I said, chuckling as I added his name to the list.

 

I checked the clock. It was too early to call Jane and discuss the necklace, but it wasn’t too early for Lizzie. I made the call and firmed up Wednesday night for our girls’ get-together.

 

I couldn’t wait to tell my friends what I’d found in Jesse’s basement and give them the names of the possible killers and motives I’d come up with. With luck, the girls would have other names to add to my list.

 

That was what we’d done a few months earlier, when I was the one on top of the suspect list. My girlfriends and I had tracked down information it would’ve taken the police months to find out, simply because we knew this town and the people who lived here so well.

 

In lieu of girlfriends this time around, Robbie and Tiger sniffed and snuggled at my feet and made me feel as if I ruled the world. Or at least, my little corner of it.

 

I poured a second cup of coffee and returned to my suspect list. In spite of Eric’s taunting, I refused to put Jane’s name on the list. I knew she didn’t kill Jesse. But there were plenty of others who might have.

 

I studied the names again. At the top of my list was Cuckoo Clemens, an old grouch and a conniver. He was mean to boot. Even Robbie agreed with me. I could picture Cuckoo fighting with Jesse over the necklace. The way he had demanded that Jane sell him the necklace for an outrageously low amount showed his desperation.

 

Next came Jesse’s old navy pals, Bob and Ned. I didn’t really suspect them of killing Jesse, mainly because they were too old. They might’ve been able to slip him some sleeping pills, but they couldn’t have caused all that damage in his house. But Ned’s son, Stephen, a strapping young man, as his father might describe him, could have done it. So his was the next name on my list.

 

Robbie perched attentively on the rug, waiting for me to name my next suspect. “I’m adding Althea,” I said, and smiled as the dog seemed to ponder that suggestion. “I know what you’re thinking, but she’s an obvious choice. The girlfriend nobody knew.”

 

He tossed his head, shook himself, and then lay down to gnaw on his floppy skunk.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “I can’t see that she had much to gain by Jesse’s death, but she’d been seeing him regularly, which means she had plenty of opportunity. That has to count for something, right?”