File M For Murder

THIRTY-EIGHT

“What is this method?”

Once again I’d fallen silent, picturing what I’d read in my mind, and Sean’s question prompted me to explain aloud.

“I can’t remember which book I read it in,” I said. “But what you do if you want to kill someone in the bathtub is grab him or her by the ankles and pull up until the victim’s head is underwater.”

Laura frowned. “That sounds horrible, but surely the person in the tub can lift himself up or jerk his legs loose.”

I shook my head. “That’s what I would have thought too, but evidently it’s not the case. Particularly if the person pulling the legs up is strong.”

“And in this case we’re talking about an elderly man who’d been drinking.” Sean shrugged. “He probably didn’t have much upper body strength anyway. Pretty quick method to get rid of someone in your way.”

“Definitely,” I said. Visualizing it, however, made me a little sick to my stomach.

“But how can you find out more about the Norris case?” Sean pointed out an obstacle. “Unless you can convince Kanesha Berry to open the files and let you see the autopsy.”

“She might end up having to do that,” I said. “Not necessarily letting me see it, of course, but reopening the case.” I shook my head as I pictured telling all this to Kanesha. “I have another way to find out about the case. Ray Appleby.”

“Who’s that?” Laura asked. “The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Reporter for the local paper,” Sean explained to her. “Thanks to Dad’s so-called career as an amateur sleuth, he’s encountered Appleby a few times.” He turned to me. “Was he a reporter back then?”

“He was,” I confirmed. “His name was in Connor’s notes, and I’m willing to bet Connor talked to him about the Norris case. I’m going to call him myself and probably ask him some of the same questions.”

“Will he talk to you?” Laura asked.

“Yes,” I said with confidence. “Particularly if it’s connected to the other murders. He’d be the first person to break the story, and any reporter worth his beans would go for it.” I stood and glanced at my watch—almost five-fifteen. “Even though he might have gone home for the day, I’m going to call the Register offices. I’ll ask them to get a message to him, and I bet he’ll call back right away.”

I pulled the local phone book out of a cabinet drawer and looked up the number. Before I could punch it in, however, Laura stopped me with a question.

“Dad, how did Connor die, do you think?”

I thought about that for a moment as I regarded her. I remembered the red splotches I had noticed on Connor’s face and neck. Splotches that indicated he could have been suffocated.

Reluctantly, because I didn’t want to cause her further pain, I offered my conclusion.

She averted her eyes for a moment when I finished, but then she met my gaze again. “Suffocated. Drowning is a form of suffocation, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Good point.” Sean shot his sister an approving look. “So both old Mr. Norris and Connor died from being suffocated to death.”

When Laura winced, Sean immediately appeared contrite. “Sorry, sis. I didn’t mean it to sound so clinical.”

Laura responded with a wan smile. “I know you didn’t. I’m okay.”

“Kanesha will have to confirm all of this,” I said.

“It could simply be coincidence,” Laura pointed out.

“Yeah, it could,” Sean said with obvious reluctance. “But both victims liked to drink. We don’t know that Mr. Norris was a heavy drinker, but that might be something Ray Appleby can tell us.”

I nodded. “I’ll certainly ask him.” I turned back to the phone book, located the number again, and punched it into the phone.

When a woman answered, I asked for Ray Appleby and was told I had just missed him. “I have something urgent to talk to him about. Could be a big story,” I said, laying it on thick. “I know he’ll want to talk to me, so can you get a message to him right away?” I gave her my name and number. “Remember, this is really big.”

She assured me she’d see that Appleby received my message as soon as possible, and I hung up and leaned against the counter.

Sean and Laura watched me while I kept my eyes on my watch. Be available, I thought. Be available.

One minute and twenty-three seconds after I hung up the phone, it rang.

I snatched it up and said hello.

“Mr. Harris? Ray Appleby here. You have a big story for me?”

I heard a touch of skepticism in his tone, but he knew I’d been involved in two previous murder cases. “Yes, I’m pretty sure I do. It has to do with the death of the playwright Connor Lawton.”

“Got you,” Appleby said, and by those two syllables I knew I’d captured his interest. “Can I come over and talk to you right now?”

“Please do,” I said. “You remember the address?”

After assuring me he did, he concluded with, “Be there in ten or less.” The phone clicked in my ear, and I hung up.

I repeated the reporter’s side of the conversation for Laura and Sean. While we were discussing the questions we wanted to ask Appleby, I heard the front door open and steps in the hallway. For a moment I tensed, then I remembered the front door was locked, and whoever just came in had a key.

Moments later Dante bounced into the room, barking to announce his arrival. He made a beeline for Diesel, still at my side, while Stewart entered the room in more leisurely fashion.

“Howdy, everyone,” he drawled. “How nice of you all to be here to greet me.” He grinned. “So what kind of family confab are you having?”

Sean spoke first. “We’re waiting for that reporter, Ray Appleby. He’s on his way over.”

“Dante, calm down,” Stewart said as his eyes glinted with interest. The poodle was still barking at Diesel, who was studiously ignoring him. At Stewart’s command, however, the dog shut up and trotted over to his master. “Good boy. Now, what’s Ray coming here for?” He pulled out a chair next to Laura and sat, and Dante hopped into his lap and snuggled down.

I explained the situation to him as briefly as I could. The doorbell rang as I was finishing. Sean went to answer it.

He walked into the kitchen with our visitor moments later. He introduced Laura and was about to introduce Stewart, when Stewart interrupted him.

“Oh, Ray and I go way back, don’t we, Ray?” Stewart arched one eyebrow as he regarded the reporter.

Appleby, who appeared to be about my age, reddened slightly at Stewart’s flirtatious tone. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Now, Ray, is that any way to talk about me?” Stewart grinned.

This was intriguing. From Stewart’s behavior I gathered that he and Appleby knew each other in a way I hadn’t expected. Laura and I exchanged bemused glances. Stewart rarely spoke about the men he dated, at least to me, and here was one in the flesh.

“You’re a pain in the derriere, Stewart, and you know it.” The reporter flashed a quick grin. “What the heck are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Stewart said.

Appleby glanced at Sean and back again at Stewart, and the meaning of his gesture was obvious. Stewart laughed. “I only wish,” he said. “No, I’m a boarder, plain and simple.”

“Nothing plain and simple about you,” Appleby retorted.

“Why, Ray, what a sweet thing to say.” Stewart batted his eyelashes, and Laura and Sean burst out laughing. I had to join in.

Appleby rolled his eyes. “I didn’t drop everything and come over here to rake up the past with you.” He turned to me. “What is it you have to tell me about Connor Lawton, Mr. Harris?”

“Have a seat, why don’t you?” I gestured to an empty chair across from Laura and Stewart.

Appleby complied as Sean resumed his own seat.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” I asked.

The reporter shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks.” He was clearly impatient for me to get on with it. He kept darting glances across the table at Stewart, but I pretended not to notice.

“This is all related to the death of Connor Lawton,” I began. “But we think the roots of it may go back to 1984.”

Appleby appeared intrigued. He pulled a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “What happened in 1984 that’s possibly relevant?”

“The death of former mayor Hubert Norris.” I paused to gauge the effect. Appleby was definitely surprised.

“How are the two connected?” he asked.

“Connor was born here in Athena, Mr. Appleby,” Laura said. “He lived here with his parents until he was about five, I think. That would have been in 1984.”

“Call me Ray.” Appleby nodded. “Yeah, I knew Lawton was born here, but I still don’t see the connection.”

“The Lawtons lived next door to the Norris family,” Sean said.

“Okay,” Appleby said. “But what’s the connection?”

I realized then that I had never fully articulated my idea. Mainly because there was a piece still missing, one last, vital link that needed to be uncovered. But what was it? There was something I wasn’t getting. But what?

Then I had it. The kitchen cabinet.

But Appleby and the others were staring at me, waiting for an answer to the question.

“I’ll get to that,” I said. “First, let me ask you some questions, Mr. Appleby.”

“Ray,” he said. “Shoot.”

“Okay, Ray.” I nodded. “You covered Hubert Norris’s death and the investigation into it for the Register.”

“Yeah, it was my first big assignment,” the reporter said. “I’d been with the paper about a year then.”

“Why did the investigation drag on for three months?” I asked. “It sounded pretty straightforward to me. Accidental death of an elderly man in his bathtub.”

“On the surface, that’s exactly what it seemed like.” Ray nodded. “Old man Norris was a pretty heavy drinker, and his wife swore up and down that he liked to soak in the tub and drink.”

“That much was in the paper, more or less.” I said. “Is there more to it, then?”

“I always thought so. Norris had a lot of money, and he was notoriously tightfisted with it. There was a son, a teenager. Yeah, Levi, that’s his name. Anyway, he was always in trouble of some kind. Shoplifting, joyriding, you name it, and the old man was always paying someone off to keep the brat out of jail.” The reporter paused. “A couple of weeks before Norris died, Levi had finally landed in jail. A hit-and-run in which a child was badly injured. Norris refused to post bail, from what I recall.”

“What happened to his money when he died?” Sean asked.

“The wife got it all,” Ray replied. “And not long after the old man died, his wife posted bail for Levi. She must have paid off the family whose child was injured, because it never went to court.”

“This child who was injured,” Laura said slowly. “It wasn’t Connor, was it?”

“No,” Ray said. “I forget the name, but it wasn’t Lawton.”

“Hubert Norris’s death turned out to be pretty convenient for his son, wouldn’t you say?” Stewart regarded Ray with a knowing expression.

“Sure did,” Ray replied. “I believe the police thought so, too. Norris had soaked in the tub, drinking, hundreds of times before, so why did he fall asleep and allegedly drown this time? Too convenient.”

I remembered Connor’s notes and the word bruises. “Was there anything to indicate that it might not have been an accident?”

Ray frowned. “The only thing I can recall is that Norris apparently had a bruise on one ankle. The family couldn’t explain it, and I think the police eventually just had to drop it and let it go as an accident.”

“But you think there was more to it.” I felt certain I was right about that.

“The whole thing was odd,” Ray said. “I spoke to the widow and the daughter a couple of times. I never got the impression that anyone was grieving over the old man’s death. The daughter seemed almost happy, frankly.”

“That’s really sad.” Laura frowned.

“Back to my original question.” Ray tapped his notebook with his pen. “What’s the connection with Lawton?”

All eyes turned to me, and even Diesel—who had been unusually quiet until now—sat up and warbled.

I took a deep breath and hoped what I was about to tell them didn’t sound completely far-fetched.

“It all has to do with a little boy and a kitchen cabinet.”