Читать книгу Murder in Mayberry - Jack Branson - Страница 18
ОглавлениеIva Ray’s phone rang periodically with people who were sure they knew who the killer was. Jack’s cousin Brenda called to say she overheard a short man talking about the murder at The Pantry, a quick-shop grocery. He was discussing facts about the murder that hadn’t been released yet—that Ann was stabbed, that she was wearing her rings. Brenda was Ann’s niece by marriage. She and her brothers are related on Carroll’s side.
Her mother, Margaret Branson, stopped by to say that Joseph Knight, the crazy renter, had come to their house Sunday afternoon, about 4:00, trying to sell a DVD player. He said he was leaving town fast and would sell it cheap. He was a friend of Ann’s great nephew who’d been in and out of trouble.
“Captain Hargis called.” Iva Ray came into the TV room where Jack and I were trying to assemble the murder puzzle. “He wants the family to come to the police station tomorrow morning for a briefing.”
The next morning, Iva Ray, Jack and I rode to the police station together. We were the last to arrive.
I hadn’t seen all the Winstead siblings together in years. Now, here they were, gathered to find their big sister’s killer. I glanced around the room, having the same thought I would have for days to come, each time I was in a gathering: One of the people in this room could be the killer.
Grace looked bad. She’d always had a weight problem and, contrary to the way cancer typically emaciates its victims, Grace was even larger than I’d remembered. She looked bloated, sullen and aloof. She was wearing a blond wig and a heavy faux fur coat. She avoided eye contact when we entered the room. I hugged her anyway, and she stiffened.
Could she be the murderer, I asked myself. Even in the final stages of cancer, sixty-two year-old Grace seemed strong enough to inflict physical harm and she probably outweighed Ann by more than one hundred pounds. And rage, I knew, gave surprising strength.
Grace seemed to have enough pent-up rage for anything she chose to do. She’d been angry since she learned she had cancer, and the anger only festered and grew. Jack had tried to visit her when she was first diagnosed, but she refused to see him. Terrified and bitter, she’d shut herself off from everyone who tried to help her. She wouldn’t let Iva Ray visit either. Iva Ray did research with Alzheimer’s patients, and Grace said the old people she was around probably had germs.
Janet was trying her best to make Grace comfortable, but her overtures just seemed to annoy Grace.
Eight months older than Grace, Janet was Grace’s high school friend who later married her friend’s big brother. Janet liked to be in charge, and that was fine with quiet, easygoing David Winstead. Besides me, she was the only one who wasn’t a blood relative, and blood meant a lot in Jack’s family.
Janet sat to Grace’s left. David sat quietly beside Janet and Earl beside David. I thought I’d covered everyone in the cramped room when I noticed a small, wiry woman sitting alone behind the others. Looking a little out of place, the somewhat tired-looking middle-aged woman with yellow-orange hair sat quiet and detached, pulling her well-worn coat tightly across her chest. No one introduced us, and feeling a little awkward, I simply pretended she wasn’t there.
Janet picked up the conversation where it had been before our entrance.
“David called Ann about 8:15 or 8:20 and no one answered. We were trying to find out if she could take Grace for her treatment the next day. But Judy talked to her a little past nine, and Ann gave her instructions for the week. Bob called her at ten o’ clock and when she didn’t answer, he figured she’d already gone to bed.”
“So she must have let the killer into the house right after she talked to Judy,” Earl calculated. “As long as everybody’s right on their times.”
The door opened, and Captain Hargis stepped inside. His eyes rested briefly on Jack, and he registered recognition.
“We’d like to talk to the family now,” he said solemnly.
Janet helped Grace up and they struggled through the doorway first—then David and then Earl. Jack and I walked with Iva Ray and allowed her to go through the doorway before us. As Iva Ray passed through the doorway, Hargis closed the door before Jack and I could enter.
Although furious myself, I knew I’d better stifle my anger to avoid fueling Jack’s. We were stressed. The police were stressed. So what may have been an unintentional slight sent a message that Jack would not be included in the investigation and wouldn’t be considered family when information was doled out.
As I struggled to defuse the volatile reaction I anticipated from Jack, a timid voice reminded us we weren’t alone.
“You Iva Ray’s boy?” It was the woman who’d been sitting in the back of the room. She approached Jack cautiously.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack answered.
“I’m Judy,” said the woman. “Miz Ann’s housekeeper.”
Jack pummeled Judy with questions.
“Are you sure about the time you talked to Ann?”
“Yeah. The police said I can’t be right, that I’m lying. But that’s when I talked to her.”
“You just tell the truth,” Jack assured her. “What about the handyman, Wayne Shelton? What do you know about him?”
Judy’s eyes narrowed and she spoke with a passion that caught me slightly off guard.
“That’s who I think did it,” said Judy. “Wayne’s mean. He’s got a temper. And he was mad at Miz Ann because she wouldn’t sign a paper saying he worked for her full-time. He needed it for child support. He didn’t work full time, and Miz Ann wasn’t about to lie for him. He owed her money, and he cheated her outta money whenever he thought he could get away with it.”
By now, Jack was totally focused on Judy, so I took notes for him, knowing he’d want them later.
“Do you know where Wayne was Sunday night?” asked Jack.
“Driving right by Miz Ann’s house! He said,” and she drew out the word, “that he drove by and was going to stop, but decided not to. Wayne stopped by nearly every Sunday night to get his work for the week. Don’t know why he’d drive by this week without stopping.”
Judy’s expression was a mixture of anger and sorrow. “You know what Wayne said when he found out Miz Ann was murdered?” After a reasonably dramatic pause, she added: “He came over about the time they was carrying out the body. He just said, ‘Well, what do you know.’ After all Miz Ann done for him, that’s all he said.”
“Is he strong?” I asked Judy. “Strong enough to have killed Ann?”
“Sure,” said Judy. “He’s just forty-eight, and he’s a handyman. He’s got a heart condition but it doesn’t slow him down. He’s real strong.”
“Judy,” asked Jack. “How tall is Wayne?”
“Kind of small,” said Judy. “About five-six.”
Jack and I exchanged excited glances, remembering Brenda’s description of the man at The Pantry.
“Another thing,” said Judy. “He took care of Miz Ann’s rent houses. And she kept the patching paint and the house keys in her basement.”
“And,” Judy cast more doubt on Wayne, “This friend of mine said her neighbor worked at the printer’s near Miz Ann’s house. He was driving by Miz Ann’s about four or four-thirty Monday morning, and he seen a dark-colored truck pulling outta Miz Ann’s driveway. Wayne’s got a dark-colored truck.”
