Mail carrier 06 post m.., p.11
Mail Carrier 06 - Post Mortem, page 11
“You are the bestest friend.” I walked over and put my finger in the icing she was no longer using, scooped out a big fingerful, then licked it off my finger.
“Don’t you forget it either.” She smiled and waved me off. “I’ll be over after work.”
“You can help me come up with the questions for Bruce.” I waved goodbye and grabbed the basket on my way out.
Chapter 16
I hurried in and out of the other shops to deliver and retrieve the mail. Wallflower Diner was packed, and it kept Mom so busy she didn’t see me, which was a good thing. There was only so much time in the day to get all my stops delivered and still get Revonda Gail ready for her big undercover performance.
The bell over the entrance of the general store knocked against the glass door. It’d seen much better days. I wasn’t sure why Gill Tillett kept it dangling from the thin string. No one turned around to even notice I was there.
This was a good thing. Blending in was sometimes hard to do when you were snooping around to find clues for a murder. Over the years I’d become part of the landscape. It was fine with me. Otherwise, I’d not be what I considered a master sleuth.
“Good afternoon, Bernie.” Gill Tillett looked up, crunching this morning’s paper in half. “I didn’t see you come in.”
Or hear me, I wanted to say and question his broken bell.
“Good afternoon.” I laid his mail on top of the glass counter and pointed to the no-name-brand wireless earphones. “Do those work for any cell phone?”
The stool teetered on its legs when he got up.
“I reckon. Hell, you know these electronics nowadays. One day they work with everything until they come up with new anything.” He slipped a key into the silver horizontal lock on the door, stuck his hand in, and grabbed the earbuds. “I can’t even tell you how long these have been here, but if you get them home and they don’t work, you can always bring them back.”
That was a better deal than any. It was the only deal I was going to get around here, since it was the only place to sell earphones for a cell phone in Sugar Creek Gap. The only place I had time for on my route.
The only time I had. Period.
“How much?” I took my wallet out of my mail carrier bag.
“Ten bucks. You need a bag?”
“Nah.” I flipped through the bills and counted out the money. “I’ll just throw them in my bag.”
We did the exchange. He pointed. “What’s in the basket?”
“It’s one of the raffles from the golf fundraiser. I’m pulling double duty as booster and mailwoman today.” I lifted it up for him. The way he was craning his neck made my own neck ache. “Pie in the Face. Kid from school won it. A caddy by the name of Jessie Anderson.”
“Poor kid.” That didn’t seem like something someone would say after I told them the person had won something.
“What do you mean?” The level of this conversation just got thrown into high gear, and I was listening.
“He was the caddy for the Bruce Kline foursome. They came in here looking for a fourth player.”
“Who came in here?” So much for being subtle. I found when it came to men, subtle wasn’t something they picked up on. Much.
“Jeff and Bruce. They said they’d gotten your boy but needed a fourth.” He punched the old cash register that also appeared to be like the broken bell. The drawer popped open with a good hard knock to the side.
“Colvin Batty was in here grabbing a candy bar.” He threw a look at me. “Don’t be telling no one. He’s got diabetes, and sometimes people get a hankering for a sweet treat.”
“Good for him.” It really wasn’t good for him. It was actually bad for him. Luckily for him, I had enough people to worry about. “That’s how they got Colvin.”
“Mm-hmm. From what I understand, Colvin and Jeff had a few words over Les’s car. Something about Colvin not fixing the radiator pipe, and they had a few words before the golf game got started.” He gave another little nugget of information on Colvin Batty, flipping my switch from Bruce Kline being a suspect to Colvin Batty. “Then Jeff said he was going to go public with all the shoddy work Colvin did over the years and how he needed to sell the garage. I’m guessing you’ve heard all that.”
I listened with a fine-tuned ear. I was sure this was the information Vivian Tillett had been telling me when she’d stalked her mailbox when I was delivering her mail. No doubt fishing for information. Fishing for gossip. Fishing for my opinion on who killed Jeff Faulkner. Just like her husband seemed to be doing now.
“You know when a man’s reputation is on the line. One as fine as Colvin Batty’s, you begin to wonder just what a man would do to keep his image shiny for a legacy and all.” He cocked his brows. “I told Vivian if anyone came in this store and started flinging mud about my merchandise, I’d be pretty upset, After all these years being held in such high regard by the community, if it got around town that I’d not been honest with my customers only to make a fast buck, I’d be mad.”
“I’m not sure if Colvin Batty—” I started but decided it was best not to give an opinion. After all, Colvin Batty’s demeanor when I’d flagged him down in my mad woman way really did start to burn in my brain like an old tattoo that wasn’t going to go away.
“What was it you were going to say?” He grabbed his newspaper and took a few steps backward.
“You better hope these earphones work, or I’m gonna have to tell Buster and Rowena you sold me a lemon,” I teased and smiled.
“You got me on that one.” Gill sat down on the stool.
Was Bruce Kline the killer? Was Colvin Batty the killer? I had been sure it was Bruce before this whole Colvin talk started. It sure wasn’t good enough to go to Angela Hafley with the notes I’d been taking about the case.
Who knew if she was going to even give me the time of day to present it to her? Colvin Batty’s involvement with the group only made me see Bruce Kline’s information as bullet points to motives, not actual evidence. If I was going to put my thumb down on him as the killer, I would have to look into the allegations that Jeff Faulkner was about to expose Colvin as someone who was ripping people off.
Gill Tillett was right. Man only had his reputation to leave a legacy. I knew it all too well. After all, my Richard had proved to be a wonderful husband and father. He was hard-working. He was kind. He was loving. He even worked out of town just to pay our bills so I could stay at home and raise our son.
He was a cheat. He kept me at home so I had to rely on him. He had a whole other family. Forget all the good he did. That was his legacy. End of story.
Chapter 17
Every month, the Front Porch Ladies went to the local moose club for a ladies luncheon. Today was that day. There was never a better day for them to be gone. I’d never made it so fast down Little Creek Road before I slipped the earphones into Revonda Gail’s mailbox like I told her I would.
There was even time to let Buster out to potty, rub on Rowena, and grab a quick bite to eat before I headed back to the post office to pick up the LLV, where it was filled up with gas and my third loop of mail. Monica Reed was an amazing clerk, and we were all very grateful to have her.
There was no better time to send her a quick text to let her know.
On the short ride to the Sugar Creek Gap High School, my phone chirped a text. When I got to the high school, I checked to see who it was and was happy to see it was Monica. She’d responded with an emoji red heart.
“Hey, Bernie.” Trish Monroe’s voice rose an octave. “Twice in one week.” Her eyes grew, as did her curiosity. “What on earth do you have there?”
“I’m excited to be the booster volunteer who gets to deliver this gift basket to Jessie Anderson. He won this amazing basket from the fundraiser silent auction. He might not be as excited about winning cakes, but his mother will love it.” I put the basket on the counter and let her ogle it.
“Wonderful. I’m sure he’s going to love it.” She started to reach for the basket before I stopped her.
“I need to give it to him personally. We need a photo of him holding it for the booster club newsletter and other forms of media.”
“I’ll go ahead and call him down.” She moved back to her computer. Her fingers clicked on the keyboard. She called him up to the office.
A few of the administrative employees walked out of their offices to see what was going on with Trish calling Jessie down.
He walked into the office, and everyone started clapping after I handed him the basket. The kid snorted. Red started on his neck, moved up his chin, and landed on his cheeks.
“Thanks.” He lifted the basket up to see what was inside.
“We need to get a photo for the booster club.” I handed my phone to Trish, the camera function already pulled up. I had her take one of me with him, and then I took one of just him.
The administrative employees continued to congratulate him while I sent the photo off to Iris in a text so she could lay the groundwork of why I was there if anything were to come of me asking Jessie the questions I was about to ask him.
“Congrats again. I understand you were my son’s, Grady Butler’s, caddy for the fundraiser.” I didn’t want to scare the kid off. I needed answers. “I also noticed you talking with Les Faulkner at the funeral home last night, and I wanted to let you know how much your friendship means to him right now. He might not be able to express it, and I’m not sure you know, but Grady’s father died when Grady was in high school. His friends were crucial to his mental health at that time.”
“That’s good to know, because I hate talking about it since I was his dad’s caddy. I’ve known Les all my life, and that STEM stuff was all he and his dad lived for. The one thing they had in common.”
“He’s going to need you for the next few years. Are you going into the STEM program too?”
“No, ma’am. That’s for the really smart kids. I am going to state college, and I’m excited about it. I think I’ll get a business degree. I’m still hoping for a golf scholarship last minute.” The more he opened up, the more confident I felt that I could continue the line of questioning.
“It’ll do Les some good to go to school.” I needed the conversation to move back to Les.
“Especially after everything he went through to get the STEM grant.” That roped me right back in with even more questions.
“What do you mean?”
“All those years he went to STEM camp plus the engineering ones. He loved it so much. He even became friends with this kid. Les always talked about how brilliant he was. They met years ago at one of those brainy camps and kept in touch through social media and video-gaming.” His mood shifted, and his voice lowered. “Now with that kid dead, I’m not sure really how Les is doing.”
“Dead?” I questioned.
“Yeah. Antoine something or other. He died from a childhood disease about six months ago. That’s how Les got the grant, or at least that’s what Les was saying. He said Antoine would’ve gotten it over him.” His lip cocked. “I said, man, don’t sell yourself short.” He brought both hands up to his mouth, as though trying to cover an emotion. “I’m just happy Tapper Kline didn’t get it.”
“Tapper was up for the grant too?” Again, everything seemed to tie right back to Bruce Kline.
“Yeah. That dude is super smart. Nothing like Les. It ain’t no thing. Tapper got a full ride to another school, just not that school.”
The bell rang.
“Yo, gotta go. Thanks.” He turned around just as all the doors in the hallway were opening up. Kids filed out.
A slew of girls gathered around Jessie to get a look at the basket. A couple even took a selfie or two with him, leaving a good footprint as to why I was there.
I was there as a booster volunteer if anyone asked.
With a little more information about the STEM grant, I knew the one person who could tell me more about the process and possibly about Tapper’s STEM success. Marion Hemming.
I headed right back down to the library, where I found Marion sitting at the reference desk with a few students. The kids scattered off when they noticed me walking up.
“Bernie, are you here to look at more yearbooks?” Marion asked.
“No. You mentioned you were on the STEM program committee or something to do with it.” She nodded. “I wanted to know if you knew who the kid was that Les had made friends with over the years. According to Jessie Anderson, the young man died of a childhood illness, and he and Les were good friends. I was wanting to get in touch with them to let the young man’s parents know about Jeff. Les could use all the support he can get from people who love him. It helped Grady so much after Richard died.”
“Sure. I should be able to get some information for you.” She ripped a piece of paper off her notepad and took a pen from the cup. “Write your phone number down, and I’ll text you the info as soon as I get it.”
“Thank you so much.” I jotted my phone number down and really looked forward to getting her text.
Chapter 18
Crap on a cracker.
That was my exact thought when I walked out of the high school, literally feeling high on the information I’d collected about Les’s STEM grant and Tapper’s involvement, or maybe lack thereof. It was the tie. The tie between Bruce and Jeff that yet again swung my every thought back to who possibly would kill Jeff Faulkner in such a horrible way, that made me think or be real sure Bruce Kline was the killer.
The achievement bubble burst when I saw Angela Hafley—Sheriff Angela Hafley, of all people—leaned up against my LLV and filing her fingernails.
“If you’re looking for a spa, I’m going to have to say Ada Leigh Dykes could possibly get you in at the salon in the nursing home.” I thought I made a funny joke.
Not so much to her.
“I didn’t know how long it was going to take you to make all your rounds using excuses like giving out baskets and such to innocent children so you could get some information out of them, so I decided to enjoy my wait in this fine sunshine and file my nails.” She slipped the file into her utility belt as though it were a gun.
“Do they make those belts for women sheriffs? I mean with the file holder and all?” It was a real question, but it went over like the last one. “I’m serious.”
“Honestly, Bernadette. You’re as subtle as a slap to the face.” She eased herself off my LLV and took off her big, round brown sheriff’s hat. She fanned the brim of it in front of her face. “It’s going to be a long, hot summer.”
“Let’s just get through spring,” I suggested because I was enjoying the weather we were having. It was prime for my job. “I guess you weren’t here to see someone other than me?”
“Nope. I heard on the radio just about five minutes ago that someone was so generous and donated the Pie in the Face Bakery basket from the silent auction to Jessie Anderson. Then I thought to myself, Angela—” She started talking to herself in third person. “I said yes? Then I said, did you actually donate the money for the basket and tell the boosters to just keep the money and let Iris have her things back, or did you tell the boosters to give it to Jessie Anderson?”
“Did you answer yourself back?” My face paled, like I’d said something I shouldn’t have, which the look on her face told me.
“You know what?” Her head tilted to the side. Her shoulder and ear were practically touching. “I’ll tell you what. I thought I’d just do a complete turnaround in my truck and head on out to the high school to see for myself. You can’t imagine my surprise when I saw this here vehicle parked right in front.” She pointed to the rectangular white sign on the curb, next to my bumper. “No parking. No parking but for the mail carrier? No parking for the booster to deliver a basket that I had won? Or parking for a mail carrier who just so happens to love to put her nose into every single crime, no matter what that crime may be?”
“I, um.” I gulped. Not only was I in a no-parking zone, I wasn’t the mail carrier for the school, and this could be cause for dismissal from my job.
“I’ll tell you. I’d go with the latter. This here sign does not apply to a mail carrier who just so happens to be nosy.” She pretty much reiterated what she’d said, just in a stern tone.
“Curiosity is my greatest vice.” I couldn’t help it. “You and I both know—well I know that you’ve not got a suspect yet, and I want to help. I’ve done it the last couple of times, and honestly I was collecting clues so I could bring you the best evidence I had that Bruce Kline killed Jeff Faulkner.”
“What?” someone screeched behind me.
“Les?” If there was ever a time that I wanted to let someone run me over with my LLV, it was now. “I was saying that…”
“You were saying my father’s best friend killed him. My father and Uncle Bruce might have some differences, but they were friends. He would never hurt my dad.” His gaze quickly darted away. Several students were filing out of the building. I had no idea where they were going.
“Les, Mrs. Butler didn’t mean anything about Mr. Kline. He is not a suspect.” Angela had walked up to reassure the kid. “You can go on to the assembly now.”
Les lifted his chin with a fast nod then looked down his nose at me. The muscle in his jaw quivered.
“That was good. Subtle. Is this how you get your information? I mean, you do tell me all the time how people open up to you, and that wasn’t good.” Angela was trying to prove a point.
“I get it. It’s your investigation, and you didn’t ask me how Bruce Kline bullied Jeff when they were kids. Or how Bruce Kline called in a loan from Jeff Faulkner. Or how Bruce Kline and Jeff had gotten into a fight on the golf course that day. Or how Bruce Kline’s son is up for the fancy STEM grant at that fancy college if Les Faulkner doesn’t go. Right now that kid,” I shoved my finger up in the air and pointed to Les as he walked off toward the football field, “is trying everything in his power to hold it together. He even mentioned he didn’t know if he could leave his mom. Now if money and jealousy isn’t a motive to finally knock off the guy you’d spent the better part of your life here on earth fighting with, I don’t know what is.”
