“Did you know that your daughter was the girlfriend of Darryl Farmer?”
“Who?”
“Darryl Farmer, the DJ who was found dead in an elevator shaft two nights ago.”
Kathleen frowned as she digested this piece of information, which clearly was news to her. “My daughter is seventeen, Miss Poole. She doesn’t date.”
“Well, I have it on good authority that she does—or did.”
“Darryl Farmer,” Kathleen repeated slowly. “Is this a boy in her class? Cause I think I once caught her texting some kid in her class—using very inappropriate language.”
“Darryl Farmer was thirty-five, Mrs. Bunyon. He was a DJ who played a lot of rave parties.”
“Oh, God,” said Kathleen, her hand flying to her face in a gesture of utter consternation. “Thirty-five!”
“Yeah, and as it happens he was also in those same woods the night our Mr. John Doe died. So now we’re thinking that maybe there’s some kind of a connection.”
“What connection?”
“I’m not sure,” Odelia confessed.
“Look, my husband wouldn’t hurt a fly,” said Kathleen. “He’s the most peace-loving individual on the planet. Which is one of the reasons I married him in the first place. My first husband, Suzy’s dad, was a real brute, and I swore that I’d never date a man who treated me badly ever again. And Karl has been a dream—well, except maybe for the fact that apparently he lied to me about being allergic to cats.”
“Look, there’s a lot of things we don’t know yet,” said Odelia. “We don’t know who this John Doe is, and we don’t know why he was killed, but what we do know is that your husband’s gun was used to kill him. The bullet that was found in John Doe matches Karl’s gun. There’s no doubt about it.”
“Then Grace must have done it,” said Kathleen promptly.
“Grace Kramer?”
Kathleen nodded primly. “She must have taken Karl’s gun and killed that man. Just so she could take away Karl’s kids. It’s the kind of thing she would do.” She leaned in and spat, “The woman is vicious. And she would stop at nothing to get back at Karl. She hates him for some reason, and she hates the fact that he’s the father of her kids.” She pointed a finger at Odelia. “You look into Grace, and you’ll see that I’m onto something here.”
“But… how would Grace have had access to your husband’s gun safe?”
Kathleen thought for a moment, then said, “Grace drops off the kids every other weekend. She could have taken the gun then.”
Odelia shook her head. “Mrs. Bunyon…”
“Kathleen, please. And can’t you look into this, Miss Poole? Can’t you please try to get Karl out of this mess? I’ve heard so many good things about you. How you’re an ace sleuth. There must be something you can do. I swear to God, Karl didn’t do it, whatever the evidence says. He simply didn’t.” She then took her wallet from her purse.
“No, Mrs. Bunyon,” said Odelia, anticipating what the woman was about to say.
“Kathleen, please. I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you whatever you want, if you can just get my Karl released from prison.”
“I can’t accept your money, Kathleen. I just can’t.”
“But you don’t understand,” said the woman as she placed a hundred-dollar bill on the desk, then another hundred-dollar bill. “If Karl is convicted the judge will definitely take away his kids. Please.” A third hundred-dollar bill fluttered from her fingers.
But Odelia picked up all three bills, took Kathleen’s wallet and put them back.
“Now that’s just silly,” Harriet muttered. She was probably thinking how much Cat Snax Odelia could buy from that money.
“Look, I’ll look into your husband’s case, all right?”
“Oh, thank you!”
“I’m not making any promises, mind you, but I will take a closer look.”
“Thank you so much, Odelia,” said Kathleen, getting up. “And I’m sure that if you do look into this, you’ll find that it’s that woman who stole Karl’s gun. Grace is the killer.”
After Kathleen had left, Harriet said, “You should have accepted that money, Odelia. Do you realize how much cat food three hundred dollars will buy you?”
“Or you could have used the money to buy your parents a new house,” said Dooley, taking a more practical, or should I say altruistic view.
“I can’t take Kathleen’s money, you guys,” said Odelia, “cause I’m not so sure her husband isn’t guilty of murder.”
“Well, like you said, you’re going to find out, right?” said Dooley.
Odelia shook her head. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do. This is as clear-cut a case as I’ve ever seen.”
“Poor Kathleen,” said Dooley. “She really believes her husband is innocent, doesn’t she?”
“She does,” I confirmed. “But Odelia is right: the case is pretty clear-cut.” Unless… “What if the daughter took the gun?” I suggested.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Odelia intimated. “But why? Why would a teenager kill a homeless man?”
“For kicks?” I suggested.
“Max!” Dooley cried, horrified.
“No, but it happens,” I said. “Some teenagers simply like to kill people for kicks. And maybe this Suzy Bunyon is just such a person. Or maybe her friends are—like Todd Park. Or the late Darryl Farmer.”
“You might be onto something, Max,” Odelia said. “I’ll definitely look into that.”
Chapter 25
Once again Odelia was sitting across from her husband at the precinct.
“So you’re actually suggesting the ex-wife did it,” he said musingly.
“It’s just a thought,” she said.
“A thought Kathleen Bunyon came up with, and for good reason, too, for she’ll soon find her husband in jail for a very long time, convicted of first-degree murder.”
“Look, I’m not saying she’s right. I’m just asking you to take the broad view, and consider all the possibilities. Not just focus on Karl now that you’ve got him and the gun tied to the murder.”
“Okay, so let’s assume for a moment that Kathleen is right. And that Grace Kramer stole her ex-husband’s gun from his safe and shot a homeless person just so she could frame Karl and take his kids away from him.”
“That’s all I’m asking: to consider the possibility.”
“Well, if that were the case, why would she bury our John Doe deep in the woods where no one was supposed to find him except for the fluke appearance on the scene of your cats? Look, the body wasn’t buried in some shallow grave where it would easily be found. It was buried deep, and far from anywhere. It’s obvious that Karl—”
“Or the killer.”
“Fine, or the killer, didn’t want that body to be found. The fact that we did was just a fluke. And don’t you think that if Grace Kramer wanted to frame her ex-husband she would have buried that body where it would be found immediately? Or maybe even leave it out in the open. If she shot him with Karl’s gun, why not dump that body in the park? Or even prop it up on a bench in front of Town Hall? Why bury it where no one was supposed to find it? And before you tell me people would have looked for John Doe, no they wouldn’t. It’s obvious this is a man who’s not missed. No missing person report, and no one has come forward, even after we put a sketch on the local TV station.”
“So maybe he’s not local.”
“No, I’ll bet you he isn’t local. But you see how ridiculous that Grace Kramer theory is if you get right down to it?”
“Okay, I’ll grant you that. So how about Max’s theory?”
“And what is Max’s theory, pray tell?” he asked with a magnanimous smile.
“That Suzy Bunyon took that gun from her stepdad’s safe, and gave it to her raver friends to have some fun with. And so they went out and shot a homeless man for kicks.”
Chase sat back and thought about this for a moment. “Huh,” he said finally.
“Right?”
“I like this theory a lot better than the Grace Kramer one, I’ll tell you that.”