“Lot of good it does me to be the boss's best friend," she grumbled.
By seven-thirty, they'd locked the door behind the last diners and collapsed around the small kitchen table to eat leftovers. Mike excused himself with dire remarks about having to work on his day off and how he expected to be paid at least double. The women agreed that he'd been well worth double his salary, whatever it might be.
“So what is all this about!" Patsy said.
Jane washed down the last of her sandwich with a big gulp of coffee. "It all came together when I went through the trash from Mike's car," she said. "He'd come in to work Saturday and picked up stuff from the front side‑ walk. Among other things there was an old newspaper clipping. About Sarah and Conrad's baby. I don't remember the exact wording, but the gist of the article was the background of the child's accident, his terrible affliction, and the fact that the parents wanted the life support removed. The local judge had been assumed to be sympathetic to that philosophy, but word had gotten out in the community and a citizens' group had been formed to protest any such judgment. The article mentioned that the citizens' group had been put together and was headed by 'local attorney and civic activist' Robert Stonecipher.”
Patsy put her hands to her cheeks. "No! Oh, no! He was the one responsible for pressuring the judge to keep the baby alive!”
Jane nodded.
“But Conrad didn't kill Stonecipher. Nobody did."
“But at the time Emma died, neither Emma nor Conrad knew that," Jane said. "Apparently Emma came over here Friday night after the high school graduation and waved that article around in Conrad's face, claiming that he had the best motive for killing Stonecipher and demanding money to keep quiet about it. Conrad must have been horrified," Jane said. "Not only was Emma threatening to put him in danger of arrest, but the whole ugly, upsetting story about the baby's death would becomepublic in the town where they finally intended to settle.”
Patsy nodded. "I can see his fear of the story about the baby getting out, but that alone wouldn't be worth killing someone for. And even the threat of arrest — well, Conrad knew he didn't kill Stonecipher because nobody killed him. I'm getting more confused. Did Conrad push the rack over on Stonecipher?"
“Yes," Jane said.
“But why make it look like murder?"
“That's what we all wondered, but we were looking at it backward," Jane said. "We kept saying, 'Why would anyone want an accident to look like murder?' when the truth was, Conrad probably thought it was murder and was trying to make it look like an accident."
“Who did he—? Sarah? He thought Sarah murdered Stonecipher?" Patsy said.
“That's my guess. Grace said Conrad was fanatic about not letting the local paper anywhere near Sarah. He was probably afraid she'd see Stonecipher's name in connection with some of his many causes and recognize it. As much as it upset him, think how much more it would upset her. But for all his efforts, he finds Stonecipher dead right there on the floor of the storage room and probably leaped to the conclusion that Sarah had identified him, gone berserk, and killed him. So he tried to make it look like an accident. Conrad's a big, tall man and didn't realize that just reaching out and shoving the rack over wasn't going to be that easy, even for him, and certainly not for a smaller person.”
They heard the front door open and fell silent. Grace and Sarah were talking quietly as they moved toward the stairs. As their steps died away, Patsy said, "What was the article doing — wherever you said Mike found it?”
Shelley said, "The police had a witness who saw Emma going out Friday night in her jogging clothes, but carrying car keys and a file folder. It must have been the folder containing the article. It probably wasn't one of the blackmail files. I'd guess it was a sort of clipping file Stonecipher kept on himself. Mentions of him in newspapers and such. She was certainly bright enough to have made a copy or at least a notation of the paper and date.”
Jane took up the story. "She must have given Conrad the clipping, which he subsequently dropped. When he discovered that it was missing, he was frantic. Grace told me they'd had trouble with raccoons emptying the trash cans all over the place Sunday night.”
Patsy nodded. "Conrad rummaging for the missing clipping."
“Right," Jane said. "And when he didn't find it, he remembered that Mike had tidied up the yard. So he looked in Mike's car whileit was parked in back and Mike was working inside the deli. Mike told me someone had been in his car, but hadn't taken anything. Conrad again."
“But Jane, all of this is what could have happened. Where's the proof of any of it? The police don't recklessly arrest people who might have a reason to murder someone.”
Jane looked uncomfortable. "I haven't talked to Mel since early this morning. They obviously have physical evidence to support the theory or they wouldn't have arrested Conrad. Maybe both his and Emma's fingerprints were on the clipping in spite of it having been mauled around. And there was the paper dot from the folders.”
She explained briefly to Patsy about the little paper lozenges. "When he showed me one, I knew I'd seen such a thing before. I think — yes, I have it here." She had put the blue dot back in her jeans pocket and now placed it on the kitchen table.
Patsy stared at it for a minute. "Hmm. Looks familiar in a way—"
“You and I saw a green one. At the same time.”
Patsy closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them very wide. "Stuck in the treads in the bottom of Conrad's sneaker when I ran into you here! I thought it was an odd-colored piece of grass.”
“The deep treads in his sneakers picked it up from the carpet in her apartment.”
“So he met her Friday night—?"
“I think he not only met her," Jane said, "I think she made the poor guy jog around the block with her while she laid out her threats. Remember, Conrad had his shoe off because he had a blister on his heel. They were old sneakers. He wouldn't get a blister from any normal activity. It would have really added insult to injury to make him trot alongside her like a pet dog."
“And he went to her apartment Saturday to kill her?"
“I don't know. Maybe she'd told him to bring money and he went to do that, but saw the other folders and realized she was making several other people's lives a misery and simply lost control."
“He didn't take a weapon along," Shelley said. "She was killed with one of those hand weights from her own apartment."
“Did he take the rest of the folders?" Patsy asked, then said, "He must have. But if he did, where are they?”
Jane shrugged. "Maybe the police found them. Maybe they're still in his car. If it had been me, I'd have gone by the nearest fast food restaurant and pitched them in the Dumpster or a trash barrel.”
Shelley got up and started clearing the table.
“To think — he did it all out of love for Sarah," Patsy said.
“No, he didn't," Grace said from the doorway.
They hadn't heard her approach.
“I wasn't deliberately eavesdropping," she said. "Just standing there for a minute working up the courage and energy to face you all.”
Jane pulled out a chair and gestured for Grace to sit down. She did so wearily. She looked like a soldier returning from a long, exhausting battle — but a victorious one. "Don't waste your good thoughts on Conrad," she said finally.