At least he let her set the time. Sort of. “Yes, sure, I can come anytime. What is this about?”
“About the murder. About you finding the body.”
Holy smokes! Was the next suspect . . . Chase Oliver?
NINETEEN
Detective Niles Olson had taken Chase on a mental trip through discovering a body before and it had almost been like hypnotism. While sitting at the chair beside his desk, she had recalled details that had escaped her previously. It didn’t work this time, though.
“You saw the scarf beside the body like this, right?” He had sketched in the way it had lain on the dirt beside Ron’s body, still partly around his neck.
Yes, it was exactly as she had told him the last time she was questioned.
“No footprints in the mud? Any drag marks?”
“No, only Quincy sitting there eating some peanuts that must have been in Ron’s pocket. Would his head have made drag marks?” His head had been toward the street and his feet farther into the bush, so if he were dragged, it had to have been by his feet. The detective had told her Ron North was killed somewhere else. Something about knowing the body had been moved.
“Probably not. But after both Dr. Ramos and you were crawling around in there, we don’t have any good prints from the dirt.”
Chase thought that could not have been helped. They had to crawl into the bush to find him.
“And you’re sure his blackmail victims didn’t kill him? Alone or together? Hail and Snelson are in on that shady deal together, trying to cheat people by buying up their property for less than it’s worth.”
“Those two spent the night together at Mr. Snelson’s house. That’s backed up by his wife. She insists her husband came home very soon after the reunion.”
That woman had made a point of telling Mike Ramos, too. The fact that she was reiterating the story all over town made Chase doubt that it was true. “And Hail was with him? Why would he sleep at their house?”
The detective frowned. Was he getting impatient with her questions? “They both say they had business to discuss pertaining to their new real estate venture and needed to work on it that night. They walked to Snelson’s house, which is nearby.”
“Their scam, you mean. That would be hard to do since they were both drunk. Mrs. Snelson told me, when she came into the shop yesterday, that her husband didn’t come home that night. She did say he spent the night with Mr. Hail, but not at her house.”
He scribbled something on his notepad. “Looks like we need to talk to Mrs. Snelson once more.”
“How about Mr. Snelson? And Mr. Hail, too? Why would Mr. Hail spend the night at anyone’s house? That would be odd, since he lives in town, doesn’t he?”
Olson didn’t answer any of her questions, but she knew they were good ones.
Maybe she would try to talk to the men herself. These people were changing stories every day. If she collected enough contradictions, Olson would take them seriously and Julie’s charges could be dropped and her hearing could be canceled.
After Chase returned to the shop, Mrs. Cray, the janitor from Hammond High School, came into the Bar None again. Chase happened to be behind the counter when she paid for her purchase, six Margarita Cheesecake Bars.
“I can’t resist,” she said. “I do love a margarita. Not that often, every once in a blue moon. Not that often at all.” She got her checkbook out and started writing. “Now, what’s the date? Oh, it’s Sunday, isn’t it? Maybe I shouldn’t eat these on Sunday.”
“There’s hardly any alcohol in them, Mrs. Cray,” Chase said. “It’s there for flavoring, that’s all.” She didn’t mention the tequila and Grand Marnier since all but the taste baked out.
“To think that only last Sunday I was working at Hammond. And there was Mr. Snelson, sound asleep on the couch in his office.” She chuckled.
“He . . . slept in his office after the reunion?”
“I’d say he did. He had on a suit—for sure he slept in it—wrinkled like all get out.” She leaned over the counter to whisper to Chase. “That office was a mess, too. I’d say he and the missus are having problems, wouldn’t you?”
Chase shrugged. There were more likely explanations, she thought. A missus who alibied her husband probably wasn’t kicking him out of the bedroom. Neither of her two versions matched this one. She’d told Chase and Anna that her husband hadn’t come home, but had spent the night with Langton Hail. But she’d told the detective that both men spent the night at her house. She was trying hard to give her husband an alibi, it seemed, but wasn’t doing a good job of it.
Mrs. Cray stood up straight to deliver the details. “He was all embarrassed and got up real quick. He was rubbing his eyes and yawning. His eyes were red and itchy-looking and he’d thrown tissues all over the floor. What a mess. Said he slept in his office all night so no one would break in. Just because they broke into the junior high school across town doesn’t mean he needs to sleep in his office.”
The woman leaned in close again for her next condemnation. “I’ll tell you what. He smelled like liquor, too. That man had been drinking.”
That was true. She’d seen him at the punch bowl getting lacings from Ron North. He’d been embellishing Snelson’s drink as well as Hail’s with the bourbon from his flask. “There was punch at the reunion.”
“There was also a half-empty whiskey bottle on his desk.”
“Mrs. Cray, you should tell Detective Olson about this. About where Mr. Snelson was. He needs this information.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you have to.” She had a thought. “Do you think anyone else spent the night there with him?” Like maybe Langton Hail.
“Oh no, there’s only room for one person to sleep there.”
Chase wrote Detective Olson’s phone number, which she had memorized a long time ago, on the back of Mrs. Cray’s receipt. “Here, please call him. He’s a good guy. Niles Olson. He needs to know this.”
If she didn’t tell him about Snelson’s odd sleeping habits, Chase would.
Bart Fender came in a couple of hours later, while Chase was again in the front room. This time she was giving Inger her lunch break.
“Raspberry Chiffon again?” Chase asked.
“How do you remember that?”
Chase didn’t say that it was stuck in her mind because it seems such a delicate, dainty choice for a high school coach and former wrestler. She shrugged. “I just do. I remember lots of our customers’ favorites.” That part, at least, was true.
“Julie and I are thinking of going to visit Dillon on Monday. Do you think that would be a good idea?” She was putting out a feeler for how conscious the poor woman was.
“So Julie heard what I said. That would be great! She would love it. Hardly anyone comes by. Her family is there a lot, and me, but that’s about it.”
“So she recognizes you?”
He looked away. “I’m not sure. But she reacts when she hears my voice. I think she knows it’s me.”
“She’s not really in a coma?”
He screwed his face up into an angry scowl. “No, she’s not. She’s not in any coma. She’s only asleep.”
Chase guessed that she and Julie would have to go find out for themselves.
As he left, Bart almost plowed over the next woman to enter the shop. It was none other than Mrs. Snelson. Chase wondered if the woman’s ears had been burning earlier when Mrs. Cray and she were talking about her.
“I can take over, Ms. Oliver,” Inger said, coming up behind her. Inger had taken a brief potty break.
“Call me Chase, Inger. I can stay out here a little longer.”
“It’s not that busy. Anna told me to send you to the kitchen. I think she needs some help.”