Charlie satisfied himself the glass was intact and that there was no way to remove them from the outside. Obviously no one could have entered through them. The last way into the house was through the garage and then into the kitchen. But, you had to get into the garage first through a hinged wooden door that slid up into tracks set in the garage roof. It could not be tampered with from the outside and it had been bolted also.
Charlie walked onto the cool concrete floor of the garage and stood with his hands in the pockets of his overalls, thinking. It was a clean neat garage, holding a small foreign car, a few garden tools and a rough set of wooden shelves against the black wall. The shelves were covered with bottles, paint cans, tools, and the usual debris people move out of a house into a storage area. Charlie checked the tracks that held the garage door in place. Once he made certain they were solid and untouched, he wandered aimlessly through the connecting kitchen door into the house.
He was standing in the living room looking at the blood-soaked rug where Vera Platt had died when a smile crossed his old face. “Well, I’ll be damned!” he muttered. “Looked right at it and didn’t see it!” He headed out the front door in a loping run.
About ten minutes later, he walked back to the white lawn table where Lester was sitting and talking with a man Charlie had not seen before. They both stood up when he arrived.
“Charlie,” Lester said, “this is Mr. Holcombe. He’s Mrs. Platt’s brother. He just arrived and I’ve told him the way things look.”
Lester then turned to Holcombe and noticing the expression on his face said, “Mr. Holcombe this is Mr. Johnson. He may not look like much standing there in overalls and barefoot, but he owns this county and knows more about criminal investigations than any two detectives I’ve ever met. I believe he’ll back me up on the suicide verdict since he’s had a chance now to look around.”
Charlie smiled at Lester’s backhanded compliment and asked “Where do you live, Mr. Holcombe?”
“In Palm Beach. And, despite what you say and believe Mr. Johnson, my sister did not commit suicide. I warned her about that man, but she would not listen. Last night, however, she called and told me she was through with him. She asked me to drive up and help her move out of the house today. Believe me, there were no symptoms of suicide in her words. Only anger. That man Platt murdered. Vera!” he finished heatedly.
“Mr. Holcombe,” Lester broke in, “I know how you feel, but we have to deal with facts.” He turned to Charlie. “Now that you’ve been up there, you see what I mean about the house and how no one could have gotten in to kill her. Don’t you?”
“No,” Charlie stated firmly. “Mr. Holcombe’s right. In fact, he just gave me the answer to the last question I couldn’t handle. Platt did murder his wife and he did go in and out of that house last night. Come on up and I’ll show you how he did it. Then you can arrest him. I think he’ll talk plenty when you show him we’re as smart as he is.”
Charlie led the two men up towards the house. As they walked across the lawn he said, “As a matter of fact, looks to me like Platt’s been planning to kill ’er for some time. That’s why he started building that barbecue thing out by the patio. It bothered me when I first saw it. From all you told me, he didn’t seem the type to build an outdoor barbecue, no matter who wanted it.
“But the thing that really hung me up. for a while, was why would he kill ’er last night and then find the body so early this morning. If what I had figured out was right, he was smart enough to know he needed two or three days before he could be sure the plan would work. Now that Mr. Holcombe’s told me what happened last night, it’s obvious Platt lost control of the timing. He had to move fast and I suspect he wan’t really worried we would find anythin’ anyway. Probably figured the police around here wasn’t that smart.”
Lester took the soggy cigar butt out of his mouth and snapped, “I don’t suppose Platt could be expected to know there was a bigger crook around here than he is!”
Charlie chuckled at the rise he had gotten out of the sheriff and continued happily, “Anyway. Whether he was in the house when his wife called you, Mr. Holcombe, or he got there later — don’t make much difference. From the way she was dressed, I imagine it was later, when she was getting ready for bed. But whenever it was, he either heard, or she told him, she was leaving with you the next morning. He realized it was then or never for his plan. So, he went right to work.
“Since she wasn’t expectin’ it, I don’t think it was any trouble for him to get up close and shoot her. In the head might have been hard to manage, but not the chest. Easy to control where the shot went and plenty of powder burns that way. Must’a got a lot ’a blood on himself, but ’less he’s really dumb — and I doubt that — you won’t find the clothes ’til he tells you where they are. Nobody notices a single shot this far out in the country. So he had time to clean up and change clothes. Plenty of ’em in the house.”
By now, Charlie had led them into the living room. “He gets Vera laid out nice and proper with the gun in her hand and does the best he can for a. note. Probably used an old letter or maybe she wrote him a note she was leaving. Whatever, he cuts the parts off that don’t fit in and burns ’em in the ashtray. Bad as the note was, it qualified.
“Next he closes up the whole house, boltin’ all the windows and doors. In fact, I bet you’ll find he put, all those bolts and chains on, himself. I don’t ever remember Bart or Beth being that skittish ’bout being robbed.
“Last of all, he sets the lock on the kitchen door and pulls it shut behind him. It’s locked, but not bolted. He covers that one openin’ by boltin’ the garage door and the house is sealed. No one can get in. All he has to do is get out and he’s home free. If the house was shut up so nobody could get in, the only thing the law could find would be suicide. No matter how bad he looked.”
Charlie motioned for the two men to follow him. “Lemme show you somethin’ that might not work anywhere in the country but Florida.” He led them to the back wall of the garage, bent down and began to move the bottles and paint cans to one side of the lower shelf.
“Look there,” he said.
Lester bent down, stared at the wall and whistled. There was fresh cement holding four of the cinder blocks in place.
“See what I mean,” Charlie asked. “Bare cinder blocks inside the garage. Nine houses out of ten in Florida are built that way. No worry about messing up a paint job like in the house. Maybe he had those blocks already loose, or maybe he knocked ’em out right then. But one way or the other, he took out enough of ’em to make a hole he could squeeze through. Then, it was easy to reach back in and rearrange all this junk on the shelf to cover the area.
“ ’Cause ’a that barbecue pit he was building, he had all the material he needed to repair the wall. It was dark and he had plenty-’a time. Nobody roams around out here at night. He mixed up some cement and bein’ careful not to damage the shrubbery that covers the outside wall of the garage, he replaced the blocks, touched up the paint and went on back to the motel.
“You can still see the paint spots on the shrubs and grass. The paint’s that fast-drying kind but the cement takes longer. If Holcombe hadn’t been comin’, he’d ’a waited a day or two for if to set good. He jus’ didn’t have that choice. Also, he realized that it would be better for him to find Vera then let her brother do it. Not only would it be kind of a plus for him, but he could be around to talk enough to keep your attention on the doors and windows.