“Me and some other kids.”
“In the process, did one of you come across the infamous tape?”
“Nope.”
“Isn’t it possible one of the others found it and didn’t say anything to you?”
“Nope.”
“How can you be so sure?” I said, sounding slightly cranky.
“Me and Joey found it the year we were living here, right after Sloan died. It was like a scavenger hunt. We knew it was somewhere on the property, but we didn’t know where. I was actually the one who found it.”
“Where was it?”
“There was this bathroom between our two bedrooms. She’d removed the heater vent set into the kickplate and she’d slid it in there.”
“What happened to the tape?”
“Nothing. Joey hung on to it with the idea that one day he’d find a use for it.”
“That turned out to be fortunate.”
“Well, yeah. First day at Santa Teresa High School, who does he run into but the chick spread out on the pool table?”
“Lucky for him. And here they are years later, about to get married.”
Justin shrugged.
“Your stepmother’s a fan of patience.”
“Sure, if you want to even the score.”
“Really? Was it that important to Joey ten years after the fact?”
“He loved Sloan. She was a goddess to him. Fritz McCabe was a twerp and deserved everything he got.”
“And he’s dead now.”
“Good news. We didn’t have anything to do with it.”
I rang the bell and she opened the door moments later. Behind her in the hall, Sloan’s now ancient companion, Butch, made his way painfully to her side. Maybe in his dimming memory, he still held out the hope that one day Sloan would be there. He was a sad old guy and I felt my heart break all over again at his optimism.
Margaret brightened when she saw me. “Oh, Kinsey. Please come in. Something’s come up and I was wondering who to talk to. Maybe you can help.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
This time, instead of leading me into the living room, she walked me through to her study at the back of the house. This room was a jumble: big rolltop desk piled high with paper—bills, correspondence, catalogues, newspapers. To one side of the desk, there was a table topped by a typewriter. On the rolling chair, she’d balanced six fat accordion-style folders with ragged index tabs. The bookshelves were helter-skelter, some books lined up properly, some flat, many leaning drunkenly on adjacent volumes. There was an enormous stack of last year’s Christmas cards on a side table and an upright metal stand was stuffed with documents, so many files jammed in together that I doubted the device served its purpose, which was easy access. She’d struck me as being neat, tucked in, and conservative, and the disorder here seemed out of character.
Today she wore a red shantung pantsuit, a dramatic contrast to her black hair, which fit her head like a feather bathing cap. Her only jewelry was a necklace of gold beads, graduating in size from the small ones near her throat to larger ones at the outer rim. Her black-rimmed glasses lent her a serious air. “Sit anywhere you find room,” she said as she settled in her wooden swivel chair.
There were three other chairs in the room, all in use. I did a quick survey, trying to determine which pile would be easiest to move. I chose the magazines, but to my dismay, once I set them on the floor, they slid sideways in an avalanche of glossy paper.
I took a seat, saying, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“A detective from the sheriff’s department stopped by the store this morning to talk to Iris. She was terribly upset. She’d just read about Fritz in the paper and she hadn’t absorbed the shock of it. Up pops this fellow asking where she and Joey were the previous Friday night, as though they might be implicated in the murder.”
“Was this Detective Burgess?”
“Yes, him. She mentioned the name, but it went in one ear and out the other.”
“He’s just starting his investigation, so this is routine. Right now, he’s assembling a picture of Fritz’s life—friends, old classmates, and acquaintances. He’ll be talking to a lot of people, asking whether Fritz had enemies and that sort of thing. If Iris and Joey were good friends of his, there shouldn’t be a problem. Did she say why she was so distressed?”
“Well, that’s just it. She drew a complete blank when he questioned her. He asked how much she knew about the blackmail scheme and she didn’t know how to reply. Fritz had confided the details in the strictest confidence and she didn’t want to violate his trust. His parents might still be determined to sweep it all under the rug.”
“Extortion is the last thing on their minds at this point. They’re trying to come to terms with their loss. Aside from that, I’m sure Detective Burgess understands how flustered some people get when dealing with law enforcement. Honestly, he’s a nice man and I’m sure he didn’t mean to frighten her.”
“It’s just that he caught her by surprise. She worried if her answers were incorrect, she’d have painted herself into a corner later on.”
“If she tells the truth, why would it come to that?”
“That’s how it seems to me, but she doesn’t know anything about the law or police procedure. She wondered if she should have an attorney present as a safeguard, but when she asked, he looked at her like she’d just admitted she was guilty of something.”
“He was probably surprised she raised the issue in the course of a simple conversation.”
“You don’t know if it was simple or not.”
“True enough,” I said.
“The fact of the matter is, she and Joey were with me Friday night because I asked if they’d paint Sloan’s room. It looked very shabby once the furniture was gone and I thought it was time to freshen it up. Joey went to the paint store and bought the supplies they needed, including paint trays and rollers. I have the receipt showing the date and time of the purchase. Later, after they’d worked for a couple of hours, I ordered pizza for the three of us. I have that receipt as well.”
“Those should come in handy if Burgess asks. I’m not sure I’d volunteer the information.”
“Why not?”
“He’s not accusing her of anything at this point. It sounds like she overreacted.”
“Perhaps, but I thought you might talk to him for us and clarify her position.”
“That’s not a good idea. All it would do is make him wonder why I was sticking my nose into his business.”
“What if he comes back and asks something else? What is she to say?”
“She can talk to an attorney if it would make her feel better.”
“She and Joey don’t have money to spare, but I suppose I could spend a few dollars.”
“You might not even have to do that,” I said. “Most attorneys will offer an initial consultation to determine if your problem is a legal matter they can help you with.”
“Thank you. I’ll remember that. It doesn’t sound so alarming when you put it that way. At any rate, I should have asked what I could do for you instead of launching into this whole long tale.”