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Admitted seeing wheelbarrow, then changed her story.
Something about a teal arrow. Slippery as an eel. She’s hiding something. That anonymous phone call claimed the gun was on the back porch. Something funny went on when I was searching the porch. And a black cat lives there. Murdoch got that dust and cat fur somewhere. Maybe it’s time to call the judge, see about a search warrant. But the porch was cleaned! Who was the woman in the turban? Who’s running all over town pretending to be an officer? It all ties up with the rectory. Could Mrs. Abbott have found the body on the back porch, used the wheelbarrow to move it? She isn’t big enough to handle the body by herself. Maybe a friend helped her. Maybe her husband helped. Opportunity: Yes.
Judith Murdoch. Motive: Jealousy. Aware of husband’s infidelities. Originally claimed she went to a movie, but has now admitted she was near her husband’s office as he left. She followed him to church. Offered confession but cannot describe actual crime scene or body. Fearful of son’s involvement (see below). Took gun from son’s car, claims she hid it in the backyard but the gun wasn’t there. Opportunity: Yes.
Kirby Murdoch. Motive: Anger over father’s treatment of girlfriend. Admits target practice with a .22 pistol that afternoon, could not produce gun. Followed his father’s car as he left his office. Also confessed. Couldn’t accurately describe crime scene or body. Possibly deliberate misinformation. Opportunity: Yes.
Lily Mendoza. Motive: Remove obstacle to her relationship to Kirby Murdoch. Never known to have met the victim. No expertise with guns, but could have taken .22 from Kirby’s trunk.
Claims to have been home alone during critical period. No corroboration. Opportunity: Yes.
Cynthia Brown. Refused to confirm relationship with victim although she admits trying to contact him after work Thursday.
Claimed he drove away and she went home. Opportunity: Yes.
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Walter Carey. Insisted breakup of partnership with victim was Carey’s decision. Knowledgeable business leaders indicated Carey has been in financial distress for several years, and certainly the termination of the partnership wasn’t positive for him.
Obvious hard feelings as the breakup was sudden and Murdoch immediately replaced the locks at his office. Carey said he was working late Thursday. No corroboration. Opportunity: Yes.
Isaac Franklin, sexton St. Mildred’s. Motive: Victim confronted him over removing food from the church pantry for the needy. Sexton supported by rector. Sexton’s report on wheelbarrow led to search of cemetery and church grounds.
Discovery of tracks suggests murder occurred at or near the church. Use of the wheelbarrow likely would not have been otherwise discovered, which supports sexton’s lack of involvement.
Arrived home at a quarter after five. Arrived at daughter and son-in-law’s home at six. Confirmed by wife and daughter and son-in-law. Collusion unlikely. Opportunity: Unlikely.
Cobb frowned at the tablet. He pushed away from the table, wan-dered to his desk, his gaze abstracted. He opened the drawer, found a sack of M&M’s, poured out a half dozen, tossed them in his mouth.
He glanced at the wall clock, gave an abrupt nod. He punched his intercom. “Hal, if you’ve got a minute, I’d like to see you.”
“Be right there.”
The chief punched another button. “Anita, I can use your help if you’re free.”
“I’m on my way.”
He was standing with his back to the table, munching M&M’s.
I resisted the impulse to filch a few. I picked up his pen, delicately loosened a clean sheet from the table. The chief stood with his back to me. I printed in block letters:
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IRENE CHATHAM STOLE FROM THE COLLECTION
PLATE AT ST. MILDRED’S. MURDOCH HAD PROOF.
HE INSISTED FATHER ABBOTT CALL THE POLICE.
FATHER ABBOTT REFUSED. THEY QUARRELED.
The chief’s door opened. I wrote a little faster: THIS IS THE FIDUCIARY MATTER MURDOCH
INTENDED TO REPORT TO THE VESTRY.
“Chief.” Anita’s voice was puzzled. “How’s that pencil moving by itself?“ She stood in the doorway, one hand pointing.
I eased the pencil to the table.
Cobb whirled, approached the table. He picked up the pencil, shrugged. “Optical illusion, I guess. Anyway—” His gaze stopped.
He reached for the sheet with the printed message. “Where’d this come from?”
Anita came up beside him. “One of the folders?” She waved at the laden tabletop. She looked fresher today, less tired.
“I know everything in every folder.” He thrust the sheet at her.
“Who did this?”
She read, shook her head. “I suppose it was part of someone’s notes.”
“Block letters?” He scrabbled through the nearest folder, pushed it aside, checked one after another.
Anita spread out her hands. “Somebody wrote it.” He closed the last folder. “Yeah. Somebody did.” He stared at the sheet, his face perplexed. “I would have sworn this wasn’t in any of the files.”
The door opened. Detective Sergeant Price hurried to the table.
He moved fast, as if there was much to do and too little time.
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The chief held out the sheet. “Take a look at this, Hal. Do you know anything about it?”
Hal read it, raised an eyebrow, returned the sheet. “News to me.” Chief Cobb slapped it on the table. “There are too many weird things about this case. But”—he jabbed a finger at the sheet—“wherever it came from, we have to check it out. It’s too specific to ignore.
Anyway, I can use some help this afternoon.” He described his conversation with Kathleen Abbott. “She claims she misunderstood, didn’t mean a wheelbarrow, that she went out into the backyard to retrieve some donation for the collectible sale at the church. It’s part of the big Halloween bash that starts”—he checked his watch—“in about fifteen minutes. I want us to show up.
I want people to get the idea we’re there to look things over. I’m going to track down the vestry members, see what I can find out about the padre and the vestry. And talk to this”—he tapped the printed message—“Irene Chatham. Hal, find Mrs. Abbott and insist she show you the teal arrow. Anita, check with some of the church ladies, see if you can get a get a line on this Helen Troy. Hal, describe her.”
“Nefertiti.”
The chief blinked. Officer Leland looked puzzled.
I kissed my fingers, blew a kiss toward my favorite police detective.
A slight flush pinked his cheeks. “Classic bone structure. She’s a knockout. It shouldn’t be hard to find her.”
“Shouldn’t be if she’s such a hottie.” The chief looked amused.