GARY P. PAVAO - SHORT-STORIES

Gary is a retired history teacher who, after teaching high school history for sixteen years in southeastern Massachusetts, has decided to try to see if he has what it takes to become a published author. To date he has had two short stories published on-line by this publication. This is the third.  It is a murder mystery entitled Grant Paxton Mysteries: Murder at the High School Reunion.  Gary has written on the side for many years for his own enjoyment.  Now he is trying to bring that feeling to others. 

​Murder at the High School Reunion

             It was a beautiful, picturesque, New England, fall, Sunday morning. The foliage was at its peak. Everywhere you looked the landscape was dominated by trees whose leaves were changing into vibrant colors of red, yellow and orange.  In the town of Lakeview MA, at 357 Riverside Drive, Grant Paxton laid down across the couch in his den, listening to the mellow sound of Marvin Gaye on his headphones. 60’s music, especially Motown music, was his favorite.  At 10 a.m. the phone rang.  He did not hear it.  His wife picked up on the upstairs phone. She came down the stairs and threw open the door.  Seeing this, Grant removed the head phones.
            “It’s your brother George,” she yelled.
                                                                                                                                                      
            “O.K., “Grant, lifting the receiver, acknowledged. “I’ll pick it up.  Hello,” he said, lifting it to his ear.”
            “Grant, it’s George, “his brother said.  I am at the Captain’s Hotel. There’s been a murder here.
                    “No way. I was there last night. It was our class 40th reunion.” Grant was referring to the class of Brighton-Pittston High. Not only was he a 9th and 10th grade history teacher there he was also a graduate.
            “So I am told by the hotel management. “ George replied.  He was a police homicide detective, rank of lieutenant as well as Grant’s younger brother.  “The murdered girl was named Juanita Lopez- do you know her?”
            “Yes I do, Grant said.  “She was very unpopular and disliked by many, I hate to say this but I don’t think you’ll find too many people upset. Just last night there was an incident between her and another faculty member.”
``          ‘‘I know it is Sunday but we could use your help Grant.  Could you come down?  The captain told me to bring you on as a consultant again.”
            In addition to teaching history in school, Grant wrote murder mysteries in his spare time and was sometimes asked to help the police as a consultant.
            Grant agreed and promised he’d be there in a few minutes. He got dressed quickly, hopped into his Honda Civic and after a 25 minute ride arrived at the hotel-again. As he had told his brother he was an attendee last night at his 40th high school reunion.  As he pulled into the parking lot he lowered the volume on his car radio, which as always was tuned into Sirius XM satellite radio, the 60’s channel.  His favorite Beatles song, A Day in the Life, had been playing-loudly. It seemed a bit like déjà vu as he opened the door and went to the function room where he had been not ten hours earlier.  The police, including his brother George were all around.
            “Grant, thanks for coming down, “George walked toward him with his hand extended. “Sorry to drag you in on an off day from school,” he said.
            “No problem, ‘Grant said “get me up to speed on what happened here.”
            George removed his trusty notepad from his breast pocket. “Well it seems like the deceased- Juanita Lopez- was killed between11-11: 30 last night.  She was murdered in the bathroom stalls. It looks like asphyxiation but we won’t be sure until the autopsy.”
            “I see. You know as fate would have it, she was sitting at the table right next to ours. If only I had paid more attention maybe I could have noticed something important.  The truth be told I think we were all relieved that she was somewhere else.
            “Yes…you had told me earlier how unpopular she was.  Why was that?” George asked.
            “I don’t know if there is enough time to detail all the reasons.  Let’s just say she started annoying people back in high school 40 years ago and she still hasn’t stopped.”
            ‘Give me some examples,” George said standing at the ready with his notepad.
           
              “For starters, “Grant began “she must have made a play for everyone’s boyfriend senior year.  She was a liar and a cheat but she was also one of the two smartest girls in the school. She was from the wrong side of the tracks, the slang term is trailer park trash.  She was built like a bathing beauty back in her hay day, and that made certain people overlook a lot of her flaws.  Her negative traits continued beyond high school.  She came into a lot of money as two of her three husbands died and left her very well off.  She went into a partnership with Darla Pitts from Cosmetology, also an alumnus, when she was trying to open her own salon back in the summer of 1990.  That summer, Darla caught her making a play for her husband. Irate, Darla started the long process of legally dissolving the partnership. It took time and lots of lawyers’ fees, not to mention a buyout of Juanita, but it was finally dissolved.  Today Darla is the sole owner and during the school year the salon is run by one of Darla’s former students.   There is still a lot of bad blood between the girls.   Darla hates her guts. The two had an altercation last night as I got here and had to be physically separated.  Darla was yelling at her: “You never learn, stay away from my husband or I’ll kill you, you bitch!”
            “Well there is our first suspect, George said. “ Any other’s that you can think of?”
               ‘I could tell you about an even better one if not for the fact that she died about 10 years ago.” Grant replied.
“What are you talking about? “George asked.
“It happened 40 years ago, right here at our senior prom in the hotel ballroom,” Grant began.  “There was always a contest to determine the prom queen and king.  The winners would get scholarships, though everyone figured the winner on the girls side would be Lisa Lobianco.  She was smart as a whip and the prettiest girl in school.  About a week before the prom, she had a big fight with her longtime boyfriend Tony Pena and they broke up. The rules of the contest said you had to be entered as a couple to be a winner even though the awards were handed out on an individual basis. This became a problem as Lisa was quiet and shy and dateless for the prom. Despite her great looks, she was a kind of a book worm.  To make matters worse, Tony showed up at the prom with- you guessed it- Juanita in tow. Juanita was kind of a rival of Lisa’s. Though she was not the student that Lisa was, Juanita was still quite smart in her own right and probably the second best student in the school.  Tony was also intelligent so their chances of both winning were excellent. Both Juanita and Lisa were poor and even though academically they were college material, financially the only way they could get to a good school was by winning the scholarship.  The school administration was petitioned to let the well liked stu1dent enter as a solo. They relented, which made Juanita furious.”
“When the prom began witnesses reported seeing Juanita and Lisa having a conversation at the punch bowl.  A contestant claimed to have seen Juanita helping a stumbling Lisa stay upright.  When the contest began Lisa never appeared when her name was called by the judges for the brief question and answer session. The contest continued and Juanita won.”
            “The next Monday at school, Lisa claimed to have been slipped a mickey by Juanita and deposited into one of the girl’s room stalls. She remained there unnoticed until after hours. When she came to she got security to let her out of the building.  The matter went to court and even though everyone at school believed her, there was no conviction due to a lack of evidence. No one had actually seen her in the bathroom with Lisa. No one could testify that they saw a stall with a closed stall door for any unusual length of time while in the bathroom.   It would not take long to deposit a drugged body in the stalls and get out anyway. The case was mostly circumstantial.  The testimony was unsubstantiated and so it became Juanita’s word against Lisa’s with no proof. The trial ended in a hung jury.  The prosecution’s case was weak and they knew it. They never retried the case. Juanita kept the scholarship and went onto Boston College.  Lisa kind of dropped out of sight. It was said she took a year off. Afterwards, she enrolled in a two year state college but dropped out without completing a full year. Someone said they saw her working as a maid at a hotel they were vacationing in, but I don’t know that for sure.”
            “I remember back in middle school days that there was this strange event at your senior prom,”   George said.  “You said this girl was dead now?”
            “Yes, she died before her time on her 51st birthday.  She had lived a hard life and it had taken its toll.  Had she won that scholarship it might have turned out a lot differently.  If she lived she would 1have had the perfect motive but I guess we can scratch her off the list.”
            “Did she have any kids? Any brothers or sisters still alive?
            “No.  I heard that she went into a tailspin after all this and took up with a drug dealer named Tomas.  He was arrested and put in prison. He was killed in an altercation with another prisoner.  They never had any children.  She came from a very small family and they all died young.”
“But, there was another obvious one. Juanita married Tony but he died suddenly in his early thirties. Juanita then had an affair with, and later married her best friend’s (from her college days) husband, the renowned plastic surgeon Niles Jenkins.  Her friend’s name was Jayne (with a y-n-e) Hamer and she stopped speaking to Juanita.  She had been overheard threatening revenge and bodily harm. Eventually Juanita got tired of him and divorced him and married their gardener. He too died unexpectedly early in the marriage   She is currently between husbands.”
            “Jayne with a ‘y-n-e’ Hamer “George repeated aloud as he wrote the name of this suspect down. “How do you know all this?”
            “Beauty salon gossip.  Darla has some clients that know her.  She hears it from them, then she tells it to us during hall duty at school. “
            “Can you think of anyone else that would want her dead?”
               “That’s all I can tell you, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the list is much longer than that.  She was pretty much universally hated with good reason.  She was an awful person. Not many people are going to shed a tear for her.”
            “O.K.,” George said.  “What I will need from you is a list of names of anyone you saw last night that knew her. I’d also like the names of the people at her table. I’ll check them out and see if there is reason to suspect them.  At this point the only one who actually was heard threatening her with death was Darla Pitts.  She’s a Cosmo teacher – that’s at your end of the building.”
            “Yes I know the Cosmo teachers well.”
            “Good. I’ll come by after school tomorrow and we’ll stop by and question her.
“I’d like to be there, but I have after school homework tomorrow. Come by at 4 o’clock.”
            George agreed and then they went their separate ways.
            Monday morning at school, the place was abuzz with talk of what happened at the reunion- at least among the faculty. It went by quickly and before you knew it 4 o’clock had arrived.   George picked up Grant and off they went to Darla’s.
When they got to Darla’s, Grant rang the doorbell.  Grant took a quick glance around and admired the exquisite landscaping- complete with a goldfish pond and beautiful flowers everywhere. Darla answered. Her husband Mitch Pitts, was not at home. He owned a landscaping business, and Grant was sure it was his handiwork on the outside grounds. From the looks of it they had recovered financially from the years of hardship caused by the split with Juanita.
            George spoke first. Showing his badge he identified himself and the reason he was there.  Having spoken to Darla about it on the phone she was expecting him. Noticing Grant, she commented: “Oh, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Grant.  You must be here in your consultant capacity.”
“Yes, that’s right.  I didn’t have a chance to tell you at school. You seemed very busy.”
“Lots of supply ordering. We are teaching some new things in the upcoming term and we under estimated the freshmen class size,” she explained.  “No matter. Can I get you boys something to drink- ice tea or maybe lemonade? “
“No thank you,” George said. “We just have a few questions about the reunion last night.  It won’t take long.”
“The reunion,” she said “let me guess-they’re about Juanita.”
I know you got into an argument with her,” Grant said. “You had to be physically separated and I and others heard you threaten to kill her.”
“That’s right I did, but that’s just something you say when you get hot under the collar.  I know I have a bad temper but that bitch was making a play for my husband.  She never learns.  That’s why our partnership broke up in the first place 20 years ago.  I know Grant knows so I’m sure he’s told you all about it George.  Dissolving that partnership caused us years of heartbreak. “
“Juanita was murdered about 11:00 to 11:30, according to the coroner,” ‘George jumped in and said. “We have witnesses from your table that say you were not in your seat at around that time. Where were you?”
                                                                                                                         
“I was outside having a cigarette,” Darla replied.
‘I see,’” George said.  “Was there anyone else out there with you, anyone who saw you who could corroborate your story?”
“No. Darla said.  “I was alone the whole time. Maybe 15-20 minutes.”’  
George closed his notebook and got up to go. “We know your anger may have been justified but you still threatened to kill her. I’m afraid I have to ask you to stay in town. Right now you are a suspect.”
‘I suppose I expected that, “Darla said. “For the record, I did not kill her.”
‘We’ll let ourselves out”’ Grant said. “I’m sorry things turned out this way, Darla.”
 To George, she said “I hope you know there are lots of people who hate Juanita, who have a reason to want her dead. I hope you’ll be talking with them.”
“I know,” George said turning in the doorway. “I’ve already spoken to some and I have several more I plan to speak to.”
”Goodbye, Darla,” Grant said as the two brothers walked out the door and into George’s car.  “I wish circumstances were different, but thank you anyway.”                                                                                                                               
When they entered the vehicle George turned to Grant and asked: “What do you think?”
 
“I know what you’re thinking but I have worked with Darla for fifteen years. She has a temper, but she isn’t a murderer.”
‘We still have a long list of people to talk to. Then we should have a better idea.” He switched gears. “Want to join me tomorrow after school. I’ll be questioning from your list. Have you got that by the way?
“Yes here it is, Grant said as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled it out. He handed it to George. Fifteen minutes more and they were back in the school parking lot.
“Call me before you leave to pick me up tomorrow and I’ll meet you outside.” Grant said as he left his brother’s car and got ready to step into his own.
‘Will do,” came the reply and seconds later they were both gone.
Grant’s cell phone rang about 2: 40 the next day. George was on his way. Grant began the long walk from his room to the front door. A couple of minutes later, George arrived. They visited the homes of the seven others who sat at Juanita’s table and questioned them.  They all seemed to be each other’s alibi as they were at the table at the time of the murder. They all reported Juanita going to the bathroom at about 11:00.  No one saw her again after that, but everyone assumed she had ditched her table for someplace more to her liking. When they                                                                                                                                           finished with the last one on the list, George looked at his watch.  “It’s 7: 45,’ he announced. “‘ I am hungry.  Do you want to get a bite to eat?”
 
                                                            
“O.K.,” Grant replied.  “Just let me call home first.” Grant phoned his wife and told her he’d be a little late returning. As he hung up the phone George pulled his notebook out of his pocket and leaved through it. 
“Well, I don’t think we found our murderer tonight” he said “What do you think?”
“I agree” Grant responded.
Still looking at his notebook he said: “The only person so far without an alibi is your friend Darla Pitts. Plus she threatened the victim.’
Annoyed, Grant could not help but comment.  “It’s the twenty- first century. Don’t you think it’s high time you turned in your notebook for, say, a tape recorder? You look like Dick Tracy or Sherlock Holmes with that blasted notebook of yours!”
            “Hey,” he answered, “don’t tell me how to do my job, big brother. I find it the quickest way to access information.” Looming ahead he saw the restaurant he was looking for coming up. “Grant, would this be O.K. for dinner?  I am dying for a nice, juicy steak.”
            “Sure, that will do just fine, Mr. Outdated, “he said.
            After dinner George dropped him off at his car in the school parking lot. “Hey, Grant,” he said “tomorrow I plan on interviewing the jilted wife of the plastic surgeon, Jayne Hamer. Want to come?”
“O.K,” Grant replied “I can get out on time tomorrow. Just call me before like you did today and I will meet you.”
                                                                                                                                      
In school the next day, Grant was giving his classes a test. This made the day go by slowly and his mind wandered to the murder case. If this next suspect wasn’t the one, Grant felt they’d be right back at square one.  Darla may not have an alibi, and may have been overheard making threats but that hardly makes her guilty. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the shrill sound of the 2:15 bell, marking the end of the day. Grant stood outside his room for hall duty with the other teachers, then went back inside and performed the same routine that he had done for every one of his sixteen years at the school.  He went around the room picking up any papers from the floor and lining the desks up. Then his cell phone rang.  It was George –he’d be there shortly. Grant grabbed the tests, put them into his bag and began the long walk toward the front door. George was just pulling up as he got out.  He hopped in and off they went.
            “The toxicology report came back today.”  George informed his brother as he entered the car.  “It was death by asphyxiation.  There were trace amounts of ammonia and bleach in the victim’s lungs.  She probably was forced to inhale this by a cloth or rag soaked with the stuff and then placed over the mouth. They were slight abrasions near the mouth that indicated a struggle.”
            “Those two things are common cleaning items .Anyone could easily get access to those,” Grant replied.
            ‘Yes,” George agreed. “They certainly don’t help us solve this case. “ When they arrived at their destination George announced: “Well, here we are, at Jayne Hamer’s place.  I did a little research on her before I picked you up,” he said to his brother.  “After losing her husband to Juanita twenty years ago, she never remarried. She gets a hefty amount of alimony, kept the house and has lived here ever since. She even gets plastic surgery touch ups at no charge!  Her lawyer really did a number on Mr. Jenkins.  About the only thing she didn’t get was his name. She went back to her maiden name. “   By now they were at the front door. George rang the doorbell. Before it was answered he quickly added. : “I also found out something- I don’t want you to be taken aback- Jayne Hamer is in a wheelchair.” Grant had noticed the disability ramp to the deck. The door was opened by the lady of the house.
            “Ms. Hamer?’ George said as the door opened. It revealed a very young looking woman in a wheelchair. Though she must have been pushing 60, she did not look a day over 40.  The plastic surgery touch ups had been paying off.
            “I’m Ms. Hamer,” she said. “Can I help you?”  George showed him his badge, identified himself and his brother and then they were invited in. “Oh yes, “she exclaimed “I was expecting you.  “Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Can I get you boys anything?”
“No thank you” the almost simultaneous response came from the two men.
            “We just have a few questions for you,” George said.
              “Alright,” she responded while maneuvering her wheelchair a bit closer. “Go ahead.”
              “Ms. Hamer I am sure you’ve heard about Juanita Lopez, “he began.
           
“Yes,” she said. “It was on the TV and in all the papers. I guess she finally crossed the wrong person.”
            “We are aware of your history with Juanita Lopez” Grant said.
            “History,” she chuckled. “I call it betrayal.  She was my best friend in college but she stole my husband.  He left me for her, got a divorce and the two of them were married.  Juanita had done this kind of thing her whole life dating back to high school. Many people hated her.  She had a beautiful figure and was oozing with sexuality. She could get any guy she set her sights on and it didn’t matter if they were spoken for or not. She was wicked.”
               “You certainly had reason to want revenge” George said.
            “You haven’t even heard the whole story yet. After the final meeting with the lawyers at which the divorce was finalized, I was very distraught. Driving home in pouring rain, I was not paying attention like I should have. I crashed my car into a telephone pole and lost the use of my legs. I was paralyzed from the waist down.”
            There followed an awkward moment of silence with no one knowing what to say. Finally, Grant spoke up; “I am very sorry, Ms. Hamer.”
            “You can see why I hate that woman with a passion,’ she said.
“I still have to ask you…”  George chimed in. “I’ve spent all morning talking to your friends and neighbors.  Many of them heard you threatening physical harm to Juanita.  Is this true?
                                                   
“Under the circumstances I think most people in my situation would have wanted a piece of her, I did threaten her.  No, I never followed through on it, and I certainly did not kill her.”
“Ms. Hamer, I have one more question, “Grant said quietly.  “Where were you last Saturday night, October 29, between 11:00 -11:30?”
‘”I was fast asleep in bed,” she replied. “We had a yard sale that day which we had to move into the garage because of rain. This was pretty exhausting work. Everyone involved turned in early. We needed a good night’s rest because we’d have to clean out the garage the next day.”
“Is there any one that can back up your story?” George asked.
‘I can assure you I was quite alone in my bedroom.   I’ve gotten used to sleeping that way. Well, that’s not entirely true. It was only me and my dog Trigger.”
 With that response George rose to his feet. “Thank you, Ms. Hamer that will be all. Please don’t leave town in case we need to talk you some more.”
“Good day, Ms. Hamer,” Grant added. Then he followed his brother out.
As the two brother’s rode back they discussed the case. 
“This lady certainly had a motive,” George began.  ‘”but there are other things that don’t fit. The wheelchair makes it very difficult to pull off.  A couple of the neighbors I spoke with told me they recalled seeing her car in the driveway about 11; 00 as they locked up. This
                                                               
backs up her version. The only person so far with the motive and opportunity – I know you don’t want to hear this –is Darla Pitts.”
“That may be true,” Grant shot back “but that doesn’t mean she did it. I have an idea that might get us some useful information, but I’ve gotta do this one alone.”
“Now, Grant don’t go doing any unauthorized snooping that is going to get you into trouble again.   Last time the captain was so angry I almost couldn’t get you for this case.  I really had to stick my neck out for you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll behave. It’s just that if my hunch is correct, I think the people I’ll be talking with would open up more to a high school teacher than a cop.’”
“Alright, Grant, we’ll play it your way but remember no funny stuff, just play it straight.”kDuring an earlier case Grant, acting on his own, had tried to bluff his way into some formation.  That did not sit well with the department and almost cost him his consultant’s job.  “I promise, little brother”’ Grant said as he left George’s car and got into his own. “Cross my heart.”
Grant got into his Honda Civic and turned on Sirius radio.  He knew they needed some kind of a breakthrough on this case and if his hunch played out he was confident they would get it. He drove home to the smooth, self- assured sound of Smokey Robinson and the Miracles.
The clock radio alarm went off at 6: 00 a.m. sharp.  It was preset to the oldies station. Sonny and Cher’s Baby Don’t Go was playing. From under the bedcovers, Grant’s outstretched hand reached over and shut it off.  He got out of bed and dragged his half-asleep body into the shower. He was not going to school today, having put in for a personal day.  Instead, he had decided to attend the funeral of Juanita Lopez. He would probably be one of only a few people there, her parents being dead and having no siblings. Friends of Juanita’s were hard to find, but he was only looking for one.  Juanita had only one close friend in high school. A girl from the same trailer park, Maria Garcia.  Grant had forgotten completely about her until yesterday. Maria was easily forgettable.  She was the exact opposite of Juanita. Quiet as a church mouse, she sort of blended into the woodwork.  She was in biology class with Grant one day when their regular lab partners were out, they teamed up and dissected a pig.  Grant wondered if she would remember. He hadn’t until just now.
Grant arrived at Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception Church at 9:45 for a 10:00 funeral mass. Just 15 minutes before the start there were only 2 people there. They were sitting at opposite ends of the church, each in the front row.  On the left side was someone who looked unfamiliar to Grant, who had a good eye for faces.  She was a middle aged woman, possibly a neighbor.  He did not know her. Her head was covered by a kerchief.  Even though the temperature was in the 40’s, her face was hidden by a purple scarf she had wrapped around it. She also had on dark glasses. Whoever she was, it seemed like she didn’t want to be recognized. On the other side of the church, also in the front seat was someone that looked older but recognizable to Grant.  It was Maria Garcia. Grant’s hunch had been correct. He approached her pew.
“Excuse me,” he said “but I think you went to my high school.  “Are you Maria Garcia?”
She looked at him but could not quite place the face. “Yes, I am Maria Garcia,” she said. ”Who are you?”
“I am Grant Paxton,” he said.
“Oh Grant,” she said breaking into a smile. “Yes, of course, I see it now. It’s just that you look so different than the last time I saw you.”
“I have changed a lot in the last 40 years,” he said.  “May I sit here?” he asked.
“Certainly,’ she said, moving down to make room. “I wish we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances.”
“Yes, this is terrible. I know how close you two used to be .It must be a terrible loss.”
“We sort of drifted apart over the years, but it still hurts a lot.”
Just then the priest came in and started the mass.
“I’ll shut up now. We can talk more later,” Grant said.
They both remained quiet for the rest of the funeral. When it was over, Grant asked Maria: “Are you following the hearse to the cemetery?”
‘I was planning to,” she answered.
                                                                                   
“Me too, so why don’t we take my car and go together. Its right outside this side door,” he said, pointing to a nearby door. “I’ll bring you back here afterwards.”
Maria agreed and they both got to Grant’s Civic and went to St. Luke’s Cemetery for the brief gravesite service which ended the funeral.
            As the ceremony ended and they began walking to the car, Grant asked: “Maria do you have to run off right away? “
            “I was going to, but I don’t have to,” she said.
            “I don’t know about you,” Grant said, “but I am hungry.  There is a little restaurant right across the street from the church.  Let’s have lunch. I’ll treat,” he offered.
            Maria hesitated, mulling the offer over.  Finally she replied.  “O.K.,” she said.  “I’ve got no one at home waiting for me, why not? I accept,” she said.
            The two spent lunch catching each other up on what had happened to them. Grant told Maria that after graduating from UMass he was hired by the neighboring town of Silver City.  He was still teaching at that same vocational high school, their alma-mater, Bedford-Pittston Regional Technical. The name was derived from the two counties that sent students there. Grant was an academic rather than a vocational teacher, teaching 9th and 10th grade history.  Shortly after starting his career he met a local girl, Joan Stanton.  She worked in the office at the Lakeview High School in their town. They dated for one year and then were married.  They had 2 children, a boy and a girl. The boy, Greg is the oldest by three years. He is currently a meteorologist in the Seattle area. The girl, Janine, 27, is a social worker locally. They currently have one boy each, making Grant a proud grandfather.
            Maria had less to tell. She did not go to college, never married and still lived in the very same trailer park.  Best friends in high school, she and Juanita drifted apart in the years that followed. Eventually a girl from college, Jayne Hamer became her new best friend. Maria gradually developed a close relationship with someone who had been in the very same trailer park all along. She was befriending Lisa Lobianco.
            “Really,” Grant asked?  “I knew her a little in high school but she changed after the prom incident. We lost touch with her. Whatever became of her?”
            Maria paused as if she was about to say something she shouldn’t.   She continued. “Lisa didn’t go to college after senior year. She took the year off. She got involved with a guy named Tomas Martinez. He was a bad guy.  She never would have gotten involved with a guy like that before the prom incident.  It changed her.  Martinez was a drug dealer. Eventually he was caught and went to prison. He died there, killed by another prisoner in a fight.”
            “I had heard that.  The next year I heard she dropped out of a 2 year school but then we don’t know much else.”
             “I do, “Maria said. “ She confided in me about a lot of things.  After school she got a job as a maid at a local hotel but it didn’t last long.  She died of cancer about 10, 11 years ago.
 
What a tragedy. She was so smart and had so much promise and look how she ended up. That one night at the prom changed everything.”
            “Yes, it’s a shame. Everyone liked Lisa.  Had this happened to Juanita, God rest her soul, I am sure nobody would have cared.”
            “I know we were friendly once, but she was a wicked person.”
            “Maria, I didn’t tell you this but I am a consultant for the police department. I didn’t want you to think I was using you for information. I am working on Juanita’s case. We are almost at a dead end.  I wonder if you know of anyone who might want to see her dead?”
Maria paused, surprised by the news. She said nothing for several seconds before answering as if she was deciding whether to answer or not. “If I can be of any help, I will.  I would like Juanita’s killer brought to justice,” she finally said. “But Juanita wronged so many people, the list is long.”
“Tell me who’s on your list. We may have already checked them out.”
The four names she gave had indeed already been checked out.  Grant was hoping for a new lead. “These people have all given statements and are no longer suspects. Think really hard, Maria,” Grant said.  “Can you think of anyone who might be holding a grudge against Juanita?”
 
 
She took another long pause and drew in a deep, breath.   Exhaling, she said “There is someone, but it is a long story, one I swore to Lisa I would never tell, but there is a murderer to be caught and if this helps catch the killer, I feel I should just tell you.”
“A promise you made to Lisa LoBianco?  How does that have anything to do with Juanita’s death?”
‘I will tell you,” Maria said “but you must let me finish.”
“O.K.,” Grant said.  “I’m sorry.  Go ahead.”
She did. “You must go back to the time of the senior prom. Lisa never recovered from what happened that night.  It changed her completely. She did a 180. She had always been a shy, nice girl. Now she suddenly became flirtatious and started hanging out with a bad crowd. She met Tomas Martinez, a bad person.  He was a drug dealer who was eventually arrested, charged and convicted. He went to prison in Wallboro, MA.  Before he did though….” She suddenly stopped in mid-sentence.
            “What is it?” Grant asked.
“I am about to tell you something I have never told another soul. I am breaking a promise that I have kept all these years.  But Lisa is dead now and we must catch Juanita’s killer.  “Yes, I will tell you,” she said as if she was struggling to convince herself this was the right thing. “Before going to prison, Tomas got Maria pregnant. But that is not the big secret. Lisa s parents were fanatically religious. They were Roman Catholic and very old fashioned. The thought of their only daughter becoming pregnant was humiliating. Abortion was out of the question, but so too was letting Maria keep this baby, especially when the father was such a low life loser. Lisa’s father had dominated her for her entire life   He had a forceful personality.  He decided that Lisa would give birth to the baby, but would have to give it up.  Having a brother that was a priest, strings were pulled and arrangements made for the baby to go to a Catholic orphanage named St, Bartholomew’s Home, in Pittston Mills.  In its’ heyday “St. Bart’s” was the largest Catholic orphanage in Southeastern Massachusetts.  Now it was in decline.  Lisa objected but what could she do? She had no place to go and she had no job at this time. It was her father who pulled her out of circulation and again with his brother’s help sent Lisa to a convent until she had the baby.  That’s what she was doing her year “off” from college.”
            “Lisa gave birth to a baby girl.  It was adopted by a middle class childless couple soon afterwards.  The adoption records were sealed but Lisa learned this by working at the orphanage as a maid and befriending the mother superior who confessed to her that her baby Elizabeth was adopted by a childless couple from the Neto family. They were fairly well off.  As fate would have it 20 years later, that very same mother superior was dying of cancer and was taken in by the Neto family that had adopted Elizabeth with mother superior’s help all those years ago.   The orphanage closed its doors and was torn down. On her deathbed, she told Elizabeth, whose adopted parents had already told her she was adopted, who her real mother was. By this time Lisa was sick with the cancer that would ultimately take her life. Elizabeth sought out her birth mother and the two had a close relationship for Lisa’s last year. She told me they discussed everything, including how prom night had changed her life. Her daughter hated what Juanita had done to her and blamed her for relegating Lisa to a harsh life.  After Lisa’s death she had vowed to make things right. I never met her, but I think this woman would have reason to want to kill Juanita.”
            “I can’t believe it,” Grant said, shocked. “Lisa has a daughter. Incredible! This is certainly a person of interest to the police. We’ll definitely want to talk to her. Thank you, Maria.”
            “I can only hope that Lisa forgives me for breaking my promise.  Juanita did a lot of wicked things but she never killed anyone. She didn’t deserve what happened to her-not like that. If this girl didn’t do it – I’d like it if as few people as possible know of this- especially Lisa’s friends.”
            “I give you my word, if she is innocent, no one of Lisa’s friends will hear this from me,” Grant promised.
            Grant paid for the check. They left the restaurant, then said their goodbyes as each went to their own car; Grant’s right in front of the restaurant and Maria’s across the street in front of the church. Grant called up his brother before even starting the car.  There was a lot to tell.
Grant gave his brother a quick summary of what he had learned.  If necessary they would go to the offices of the diocese of Pittston Mills for copies of the adoption records, but for now they knew the name of the adopting family from Maria and they were known in the community. The mother had just recently retired from a catering business, Neto Catering, and turned it over to her adopted daughter Elizabeth. The father had a cleaning business that specialized in cleaning banks and other businesses after hours. It was called Nite-Brite Cleaning. They had both made local commercials which featured their daughter, Elizabeth. It would be easy to find their address and phone number and arrange for Elizabeth to be interviewed.  It was agreed-George would set it up and when school was over the next day, he would be joined by Grant. They would question her together.  George would phone in the final details to Grant.   So there was nothing left to do now but wait. Grant would not find that easy.
            The next day at 2:56 on the digital car clock, Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds was playing on Sirius as Grant pulled his Honda Civic into the police station parking lot. George had told him to meet him here in the interrogation room after school.  Grant hurried upstairs and threw open the door. Seated at one side of the table was his brother George.  On the other side sat an attractive middle age lady with brown hair and piercing brown eyes. It was Elizabeth. Grant instantly knew this must be Lisa Lobianco’s daughter. There was no denying the resemblance, they both looked up at him and George spoke.
            “Oh, Grant you are right on time .We just got settled in.  Mrs. Reichart- did I pronounce that right?” he asked.    
“Yes, that’s correct.  It sounds out as Ri-kart,” She sounded it out phonetically.
            Grant continued.  “Mrs. Reichart, meet Mr. Paxton, a police consultant assisting me on this case.”
                                                    
She instantly remembered that George had the same last name.  “Oh, you have the same last name as detective Paxton,” she said. “Are you two related?”
            “We are brothers, Mrs. Reichart.” Grant said.
            “Yes I can see that you look alike, “she said
            “Grant,” George said. “can I talk to you outside in the hall for a second?   Excuse me,” he said to Mrs. Reichart.
            Once they were in the hall, George closed the door. Out of earshot, he now spoke freely.  “Before we get started Grant, I should tell you what I learned this morning.   “I spoke to the Netos.  They confirmed that this girl was their adopted, not biological daughter. They do not know the mother’s identity.  They told me those records were sealed by the orphanage. That means if they still exist, we will have to try the Diocese office as that orphanage closed and burnt down years later.  When she reached a certain age they had agreed to tell her this.”
 Anyway, because Maria told us who the mother is I looked up her last known address and went by.  It was an apartment house.  The landlady said that someone paid her weekly visits. I showed her Elizabeth’s picture and she said that was her.  At some point, Lisa told her that this was her daughter.  With the secret out of the bag that last year there was no more reason for secrecy. Every first day of the new month of that last year, five thousand dollars was deposited into Maria’s bank account.   Now where do you think that came from?” he asked mockingly.  “Years ago, Elizabeth Neto married Tim Reichart of Reichart Foods. That explains the last name. Between her business and her husband’s, she’s loaded.”
            Reichart Foods!” exclaimed Grant, “what a small world!  They have the food contract and run the cafeteria at the school! “
            ‘O.K, O.K., let’s go back inside,” he said. “Remember don’t tip your hand too much, yet”
            When they got in the room, George spoke first.  “Mrs. Reichart, we are investigating the murder of one Juanita Lopez. She was murdered at the Captain’s Hotel somewhere between 11-11:30 P.M.   Your company has the catering contract with this hotel.  As the owner, do you ever appear at these functions to sort of oversee things?”
            “Never to oversee things. I have an excellent function manager and I have the utmost confidence in her.  I let her do her job just as the previous owner had let me do the same job when I was the manager prior to buying the company.  Changing the subject, she said “it is so bright in here,   I’m recovering from an eye infection and I am very light sensitive.  Do you mind if I put on these sunglasses?”
            “‘I suppose that’s O.K., “George said. “ Take a look at this picture. It was taken by a photographer who snapped as shot of every table and these photos were available for purchase later. Take a look at this one, table 8. Look at the woman I have circled with a marker. That is Juanita Lopez. Do you recognize her?”
 

                 Elizabeth grabbed the picture.  “I know I never met this person, but I will look anyway,” she said.  She studied it carefully. While she did that, Grant also studied her carefully. The sunglasses had triggered something in his memory. This woman was familiar, he had seen her before-but where? Elizabeth returned the photos claiming she had not seen Juanita before.
            “Ms. Reichart, we spoke to your parents, the Netos.  They told us that you are aware of your adopted status.”
            “Yes that’s right, they were very up front about that. I have known since I was a teenager.”
            “Mrs. Reichart,” he continued “do you know who your birth mother is and have you ever tried to contact her?”
            “The adoption records were sealed by the Catholic orphanage that took me in as a baby.”
            ‘Mrs. Reichart,” George said. “we know your record is sealed but we have information that you know who your real mother is and have contacted her.  We can seek a court order try to get these records and if that doesn’t work a court ordered DNA test will tell us what we want to know.  So you see one way or the other we will find out. It will be so much easier on everyone if you’d just tell us, we would not ask if it weren’t important to the case.” 
            Elizabeth thought it over for a few seconds. Seeing it was hopeless to deny it, she told the truth.  “Yes I do know my real mother’s identity. A nun who used to work at the orphanage told me. At first I was not interested, but later on when I got married and started a family, I thought differently. I had to hire a private detective and it took some time, but I was finally able to track her down.  Unfortunately she died of cancer a year later.”
            ‘‘Did your mother ever speak to you about her high school days?’ Grant continued.
            “Yes she told me about many things.”
            “Did she ever talk about what happened at the senior prom?”
            ‘Yes, I know about that night and what Juanita did to her.   I never met her though and I know nothing about her murder.’’
            “Mrs. Reichart,” George said. “One final question- last Saturday, can you remember where you were between 11- and 11:30 that night. “
            “The kids both had sleepovers and my husband was out of town on business.  I was alone at home.”
George flipped his note pad closed.  “I see,” he replied.
            “I have no alibi, does that make me a suspect?” she asked.
              “We are still investigating,” George replied. “For now, just don’t leave town and please make yourself available for future questioning should the need arise. You’re free to go.”
            “O. K. Lieutenant,” she answered.
           
                                                                                                                                                      Pavao, 31 Grant had been racking his brain trying to figure out where he had seen her before. Suddenly, it dawned on him.  This was the waitress at their table, 7, and table 8 last Saturday night.  She had the sunglasses on then as well.  He remembered thinking how odd that was- sunglasses at night.  He could hardly contain himself. As soon as she was out of earshot, he told his brother. His wheels were turning rapidly. Placing her at the crime scene changed everything.  Tomorrow, George said he would speak to the caterers. This was a promising lead.
            As lunch turned into early Saturday afternoon, Grant was relaxing in his den.  He was about to play a Temptations’ album on his CD player when his when his cellphone went off.  It was George.
            “You were right Grant,” he said.  “It seems that Elizabeth Reichart was less than truthful. I am on my way back from the Captain’s Hotel.  I just finished talking with the caterers from last Saturday. To a man, or woman as the case may be, the catering staff from the reunion confirmed that Elizabeth actually worked as a waitress that night.  They claimed she did this from time to time whenever they were shorthanded, which was the case this night.
            “I knew it!” ‘exclaimed an excited Grant.
            “Yes,” George said, “she worked despite an eye infection, which is why she wore the sunglasses. But there’s more. The time of the murder; 11:00-11; 30. No one recalls seeing her- not unusual say the staff. Whenever she helped out like this, she never stayed to cleanup, leaving that task to the hired help. The last of the dessert was served at about 10:30, they said.
                                                                                                                                   
                                                          
Then, finally, coffee or tea. That would give her the time to commit the murder. We already know she had the motive. What we still don’t know is how she did it.”
‘We’ll have to put our nose to the grindstone on this,” Grant said.”
            “Yeah,” George agreed. “and two noses are better than one. I know its Saturday but can you come down to the police station and we can kick this around together?”
            “I am on my way,” Grant answered.  “I’ll be there shortly.”
            It was 11:00a.m, when Grant walked into police headquarters and met his brother. George suggested they talk in one of the empty interrogation rooms.  Once there, they sat down and George spoke.
            “We have a suspect that had the motive- revenge for the ruining of her mother’s life- and the opportunity- she was at the hotel and no one can vouch for her whereabouts at the time of the murder. Plus she told us an apparent lie as to where she was.”
                 “We know what the murder weapon was, even though we don’t possess it.  Still, how did she attack the victim sight unseen?”  Grant added.
            “Let’s put a timeline together. “ George suggested.  “The last time Elizabeth was seen was about 10: 45 when they served the coffee and tea after dessert.”
            Grant thought for a moment. “George,” he said” look through that trusty notebook of yours.  About 11:00, when Juanita excused herself to go to the bathroom-what did she say?”
                                                                                          
George leafed through his notebook.  “This is strange, everyone reports her saying the same thing. She is complaining about a stomachache and that she has to go at once. A couple of people claim she said her eyes were rolling.”
            “O.K., stay with me for a moment,” asked Grant. “Suppose Elizabeth slipped something into Juanita’s final drink-maybe a diuretic.  That would ensure she would go to the bathroom, which is exactly where Elizabeth wanted her.”
            “Wait a minute ,” George said, “ let me check something in this notebook- yes here it is- two people tried to go to the women’s bathroom  at 11:15 only to have to come back because the yellow sign saying the floor was wet was outside a closed bathroom door.. They assumed the cleaners were in there cleaning and came back to the table.  What if it wasn’t them?   What if that was Elizabeth in there committing the murder?”
            “O.K’ Grant responded, “but where did that sign come from?   Plus there is still the matter of how she disposed of the ammonia and bleach, not to mention the soaked rag.”
            “Yeah, that’s a puzzler, Grant.  Our forensic guys went through the place with a fine tooth comb and didn’t find anything- no ammonia or bleach bottles, no soaked rag, nothing.”
            “If she had access to the yellow sign, maybe she had access to where the cleaning staff stored their supplies. These items are common, I’m sure they were in there. Maybe she used theirs and replaced them when she was done.  Assuming she had gloves, dusting for prints won’t help.  Maybe we can find out which of the cleaners has a key to the storage room. Maybe one of them noticed something out of place. It’s a long shot but it’s worth a try.”
“What about the rag?” George asked. ‘’She obviously disposed of the soaked rag, the murder weapon, but how?  It was not left behind.”
            “Well if I was the murderer, and I was a woman, I would have stuffed it in my purse and then discarded it at home.  There would probably be trace elements left behind, not to mention a terrific odor.  A smart person would have thrown that pocketbook away.  If she cannot produce it that may be another tell.”
            ‘I’ll talk to the cleaners who were on duty that night,” George said. “Then our next step should be obvious.”         
“Yes,” Grant agreed. “We may have to make a move.  I’ve got to go, George. Call me after you’ve spoken to the cleaners.  If you bring Elizabeth in, I’d like to be here.
            “O.K.,” George said. “I’ll be in touch.”
            Grant left with a feeling that it would not be long now.
The next day at 2; 30, Grant headed back to the police station.  George had spent the morning speaking with the cleaning staff at the Captain’s Hotel.  He had found out some new and important information to the case.  He had asked that his brother get there one-half hour before Elizabeth Reichart’s scheduled second round of questioning at 3:00.  When Grant arrived, he was updated by his brother.
                                                                                                                                              Pavao, 35
Just as they were finishing their talk, Elizabeth strode in.   She sat down on one side of the table, while the brothers sat on the other side.
Both stood up as she entered the room.  George spoke.  “Thank you for coming down on a Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Reichart,” he said. ”We have a few more questions to ask you.”
            “Anything I can do to help,” she said.
            ‘Please sit down, “George said.  “Mr. Paxton is assisting again,” he said pointing to his brother.  Grant smiled and nodded.  “Mrs. Reichart,” George began “the last time you were here you told us you were at home the night of the murders. It is easily checked.  The catering staff all said you worked that night.  The pay records for your company will show that in writing.”
            “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I remembered after I left. I have a notoriously bad memory. I believe I told you that the children both had sleepovers and I was home alone. That was the Saturday before.  I apologize. I’m afraid I have a poor memory. Just ask anyone.”           
“I’d call it epically bad, “Grant chimed in “When we asked you it was only the week before!”
“Let’s move forward. “George said. ‘You didn’t tell us that on the night in question, Saturday Oct 29th, you were in charge of both the catering and the cleaning staffs. Your husband’s company has the cleaning contract with the very same hotel and he did not appear there.”
                                                                                 
“That’s correct.” Elizabeth replied. “To be fair, lieutenant, you never asked me.”
‘Touché” George said. “You have a point.”
“Sometimes when both our companies are working at the same place, only one of us will come in, but not both.  The one who comes in is responsible for both companies.”
,‘” I see, “Grant cut in. “ when you do this , like you did on the evening of Oct.29,I assume you have access to the rooms which the Nite- Brite people normally use for their cleaning supplies.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Reichart said. “I have a key to the storage room on those nights” she confirmed. But I usually don’t go into that room.  There is no need.”
“Does that house the utility carts with the cleaning supplies on them?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Reichart.  ‘I thought we were here to talk about the caterers.”
“Patience.  We are here to discuss what happened at the reunion.  Both companies interacted with it,” Grant said. “Mrs. .Reichart,” he continued, “do you know what happens when you mix ammonia and bleach?” he asked.”
“I am a caterer, not a chemist,” she answered sarcastically.
“‘The interaction between the two causes a toxic reaction,” Grant explained. If inhaled in sufficient quantity the fumes from this blend can be fatal. It is what the coroner says killed Juanita Lopez.”
                                                                                                                                        
“I see, “Elizabeth said.
            “Mrs. Reichart,” George piped up, “do the cleaners utility carts carry ammonia and bleach on them?’
            “My husband would be a better person to ask, but these are common cleaning items. I have seen these utility carts enough over the years to say that the answer is yes.”
“I spoke to the cleaning staff earlier today and you are correct,” George said. “I had the opportunity to speak to the head custodian, a Mr. Morelli. He told me he has had this job for the last six years. Do you know him?”
            “Oh my, yes,” Elizabeth said. “Mario‘s quite a character. He is an excellent worker. My husband thinks very highly of him.”
            “It sounds like you know what I am going to say about him. In speaking with everyone about him, and he says this too, he is known for being extremely meticulous --almost excessively compulsive.”
            “Yes,” Elizabeth said with a chuckle. “He has the nickname ‘Meticulous Mario’ because of his behavior.”
            “Well. I talked with Mr. Morelli and he was adamant that someone had used his utility cart that night after he put it away.  He had to leave at about 11:00 to pick up his daughter at the airport, so he returned his cart early. When he picked it up the next day, the ammonia and bleach bottles had been switched around.  The ammonia was always on the top shelf of the cart and the bleach underneath but the next day, it was the other way around.”
‘Oh, really?” Elizabeth said sheepishly.
“Mrs. Reichart,” George said. “I have a tape I’d like you to watch. It’s the front door security tape from the night of the murder.  He grabbed the tape from the table, where it hand been lying inconspicuously.  He popped it into the VCR and pressed play ‘It’s an old taping system but it will serve our purpose, “he said.  “Here” he stopped the tape. “Here you are entering the building. You are wearing a lovely flowered dress complete with a matching purse. Very nice.  Look at the timestamp, Mrs. Reichart, in the upper right hand corner of the screen. You arrived  at 6:38.  Now let me advance this.’’ He fast forwarded it until he found her leaving the building and then paused on that frame. “Here you are leaving the building, Mrs. Reichart.  Notice the time stamp, 11:55.  Your catering staff-- they all told me--that whenever you helped out by serving, you never clean up and left on this night right after the final coffee was served. That was about 10:45 which means it should have been done by 11:00 at the latest. You left almost one hour later. What were you doing all that time, Mrs. Reichart?”
“I don’t recall,” she said, “there are always things to do at the end.”
“Not for you. According to your staff, you just throw your apron in the dirty clothes and leave. On nights like this, your manager settles up with the client.  There is nothing for you to do.  The staff does the clean-up.”
                                                                                            
“I don’t think I like your tone, lieutenant.”
“Mrs. Reichart,” Grant said.  “I only have a couple of more questions. Those folding yellow signs that all cleaners have-they say wet floor on one side in English and in Spanish on the other. Were these signs also kept in the storage room?”
“Yes, they are.”
“I’d like you to take a look at the security tape of you exiting the building.  Mrs. Reichart, the killer would have to dispose of the murder weapon- most likely a rag or cloth soaked with bleach and ammonia.  None was ever found inside. The killer must have brought it out and then disposed of it-maybe in a purse? Do you have the purse from this video?”
“I did not kill Juanita Lopez. I resent the implication!   As fate would have it I have misplaced that purse. That night was the last time I saw it. If you have any more questions they will have to wait until I can get my attorney in here.”
“O.K., but let me tell you how we think it happened’ “George said.   “At 11:00 you stole away to the storage room and brought the cart and the wet floor sign to the bathroom where Juanita was dealing with the effects of the diuretic you slipped in her coffee.  You mixed the ammonia and bleach on a rag and killed Juanita. You surprised her and suffocated her while she sat in the bathroom stall.  Then you returned the yellow sign which you had placed outside the     door to keep people away from the bathroom. You also returned the cart but switched the shelves for the ammonia and bleach.  Maybe that wouldn’t have been such a big deal but this cart belonged to Mr. Morelli and he certainly would notice. Then you had to deal with the murder weapon. You stuffed the rag into your purse and got rid of purse and rag when you got home. Am I right?”
‘‘I told you, I am not saying another word without my attorney present.’’                                                                                                
“That’s advisable because,” George got up and clamped his handcuffs on her, “you are under arrest for the murder of Juanita Lopez.”  He proceeded to read her her Miranda rights. Then he took her downstairs to book her.  Grant waited there for him to return, then the two brothers went out for a well-deserved steak dinner.
 Grant sat alone in his room correcting papers, the following day after school.  He chuckled as he came across multiple choice question 22. It said: What was the Supreme Court case that legalized abortion?  What he was laughing at was the gag choice he had put down for option c. It read: Wade v Boggs.  The correct answer was option a: Roe v Wade. Wade Boggs was one of the great Red Sox hitters of all time, but c. was not the answer. It never ceased to amaze and amuse him how many students opted for this answer.
After finishing that paper, Grant took a break. The clock on the wall read 3:30. Most of the teachers would be gone by now. He walked over to his computer and turned on the smart board. He felt like hearing some Otis Redding.  He punched in Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay video.   He blanked out the screen so all you could do was hear the sound. He locked the door to his room and returned to his desk. No sooner had he sat down than he heard a knock on the door. Opening it revealed his brother George on the other side.
                                                                                         
“Hello, Grant,” George said. “I know I promised to call but I’ve been busy all day.  I finally had some free time so I thought I’d come by and surprise you with an update on the case.”
“I thought you had forgotten about me,” Grant said.  “What have you got?”
“Well the DA says we have a good case.  We can show motive and opportunity. We don’t have a murder weapon but we have test results that determine what killed her.  She had access to the closet housing the items in question, and we’ve got a reliable witness to show that someone moved a utility cart with the murder weapons on them.  The fact that she cannot produce the purse, which could exonerate her if she was innocent, hurts her.  He thinks he can get a conviction.”
“That’s great,” Grant said.  “I guess you can chalk up another case solved by the Paxton brothers.”
“All kidding aside, Grant, I think we make a good team. I think you may have found a niche to occupy you in your retirement years. By the way, what are your plans for retirement?”
“I figure another year or two of teaching. Then I’d like to write full time. But that remains to be seen.   Am I good enough?  So far I I’ve had only one novel accepted.  We’ll have to see how that goes before I commit to any police work.”
 
 
“Well, we could sure use the help down at the station. When it comes to solving crime, you are a real natural. Whether you write murder mysteries or solve them I ‘m sure you will do fine.  I’ve gotta go now.  Goodbye, Grant.” he said, and slipped out the door.
 Grant got back to his corrections. It looked like another hour’s work. It would definitely be a late one tonight.  As he finished the next paper he paused and let his mind wander ahead.  What would the future hold for him?  Time would tell. As he started the next student’s paper he noticed that the song A Day in the Life by the Beatles, his favorite, was playing on the smart board.  Maybe that was a good omen.

    Grant Paxton Mysteries:  
Murder of the Music Manager

  
              
*************************************One*********************************
            As the band finished a rousing rendition of their biggest hit, My World, they took their bows, received a standing ovation and then walked off the stage. Everyone in the crowd immediately removed their cell phones and turned them on, creating a sea of light in the darkened arena: a signal to the band to return and perform one more number. Grant Paxton looked around and smiled. The history teacher from Bedford-Pittston High School and erstwhile mystery writer and police consultant, was having a boy’s night out with his good friend and fellow Motown fan Garett Lynch from administration. This group, the Fabulous Ones, played the Motown sound even though it recorded on a different label.
                                                                                                                                   
Grant was close to retirement, but he didn’t feel old. Yet he could not but help think back to his youth, when cell phones were replaced by cigarette lighters as the signal to the band to return. ‘Progress, I suppose,’ he thought to himself as the band returned and everybody sat back down.  As they finished a rather long version of My Daddy was a Player, Garret reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper which he handed to Grant.
            “What’s this,” he asked surprised.
            “It’s the surprise I promised you. These are backstage passes. The local radio station had a giveaway and I won them!” Garrett replied.
            Grant could hardly contain himself.  “Do you mean we are going backstage and meet the most prolific songwriting duo of our time?” he said excitedly.
            “Yes.  Part of winning the contest is we are going to be met by a representative from the station and we’ll be introduced to all five of the Fabulous Ones, “he said.  The band consisted of Lester Brown, Lionel Jackson, Marcellus Gray and, of course, its’ most famous members, brothers Jesse and James Washington. They would get to meet them all
            Grant and Garrett hurriedly proceeded backstage. When they got there they encountered a security guard and a member of the road crew.  He had a list of names on a clipboard, on which they both appeared so they were allowed to pass.  Garrett led them to a predetermined area where they were to meet the contest representative. They met up with this person outside the men’s room door.  He was a young kid, 25 tops, named Steve Richards.
            “Are you guys ready to meet the band? “he asked.
            “I’ve been ready all night,” Garrett blurted out.
            “Let’s go!” Grant chimed in, impatiently.
So, with Steve in the lead off they went to the dressing room area. Steve had spoken to Marcellus earlier so he was aware of why they were there.  Steve identified himself as the rep from the contest who spoke on the phone earlier.  Marcellus was the friendliest one of the group.  He had the best personality.  He established himself as the point man.  He introduced himself to Grant and Garrett and brought them around to meet the other band members, all except for Grant’s favorite, James Washington. He was way off in the corner of the room by himself and working on a computer.
“Let me go and see if I can’t get him to come and say hello,” Marcellus said and then went to do it.
The fact that James was isolated from the others came as no surprise to Grant, who knew James’ story. “Are you familiar with the story of what happened to the Fabulous Ones?” he asked Garrett.
“I know they broke up after ten years, but that’s all I know.
 
                                                                                                                      
“I know the whole story.  The Fabulous Ones were five boyhood friends from Detroit, but the real superstars of the group were twin brothers Jesse and James Washington. They were prolific songwriters who wrote many top ten hits. Jesse was the groups’ copyright watchdog.  This was necessary because James Washington trusted no one. Perhaps he had a foreboding, because somehow the record company, Motor City Music whose president, Baron Corvine, a local resident who had grown into one of the biggest executives in the country had grown upset with the increasing controversial political content of their music. He used his high priced attorneys to find a loophole in their contract and got control of the rights to almost all of their records.    Jesse was heartbroken. James was furious. He blamed his brother as much as he did Corvine.   A huge rift developed between the brothers and they would never write together again. James left the group. They tried to plug in several different replacements over the next two years but none worked.  Finally they broke up.  After forty years they reunited for this tour.  The bad blood between the brothers kept James off the tour until the halfway point – he finally relented and joined the others for the first time in four decades. Everyone was in need of some cash and they discovered that they still could draw a crowd, especially when James joined up.  Though he was surly off stage he had always had that onstage persona that his brother, despite his talent, lacked.  Whether or not he’d make it to the end of the tour was anyone’s guess”.
After a lot of persuading, Marcellus finally got James to, reluctantly, agree to come over and meet the guys. Grant had a memorized list of questions for him, but it became clear after    two that James was in no mood for this. He quickly made up some excuse and went back to his corner.
                                                                                                                                 
Disappointed, Grant turned away.  Seeing what had transpired, Marcellus jumped up from his seat.  ”Hey I almost forgot. I got something for you guys.  Follow me,” he said.
Grant and Garrett dutifully obeyed. 
As they were walking, Marcellus made conversation. “So what do you guys do, anyway?” he asked
‘I’m the vice-principal of Bedford-Pittston High School, “Garrett answered.
“I see,” said Marcellus “How about you?” he asked, turning towards Grant.
“I’m a history teacher at the same school,” he replied.
“That sounds interesting. I loved history, especially the Civil War,” Marcellus said.
“That’s only the half of it.     He is also an author and a part-time police consultant to boot!” Garrett interjected.
“An author!” Marcellus exclaimed, impressed. “I read a lot.  Have you written anything I’d know about?”
“I’m afraid it’s not as big a deal as Garrett makes it sound,” Grant said, embarrassed. “I’ve only had one novel published to date, and my police work is usually done with my brother who is a police detective and he usually does the heavy lifting.”
Just then they came upon the room which was their destination.  “Here it is fellas.” Marcellus told them.  All three of them entered. Lying on a table were autographed copies of the groups’ first album signed by all five of them. Marcellus grabbed them and gave one apiece to each of the guys. “This is for you, “he said.  “We all signed it.  “It is a copy of our first album which we recorded at Solar Records before we signed on with Baron’s company.  As it turns out these are the only songs James and Jesse wrote that we still retain the rights to.  You guys know that story, right?” he asked.  Garrett and Grant nodded yes.   Seeing their response, Marcellus went on. “Anyway, I hope you guys have a record player.” Again both of the fellas nodded in the affirmative.
All three shook hands and Garrett and Grant, both over the moon with their new possessions, went and found Steve Richards and then they all left. It had been a memorable night.
************************************2*********************************
            The next morning Grant was relaxing in his den when his cellphone rang. He took it out and checked the incoming number.  He did not recognize the incoming number but he answered it anyway.
            “Hello,” he said.
            “Grant, Grant Paxton?” the voice on the other end said.  It sounded familiar but Grant couldn’t quite place it.
            “Yes, this is Grant Paxton” he said. “Who’s this?”
            “This is Marcellus Gray from the Fabulous Ones.”
                                                                                                  
“Marcellus, what can I do for you?” a puzzled Grant asked.
            “Something real bad went down yesterday afternoon before our concert. Our former manager, Baron Corvine, has been murdered. It was a blow to the head and the cops have arrested and charged Jesse. I tried to get your number from the cops down at the police station but they wouldn’t give to me.  Instead they connected me to your brother, George.   I explained things to him and knowing what a big fan you are he gave me the number.”
            “But I don’t get it.  Why do the cops think it was Jesse?  What evidence do they have?
Where was Corvine killed?  When?”
            “I will tell you everything but I’ve got to know if you’ll work on this case. You’re the only crime solver I know in this area. Your brother says you are a crackerjack.  Will you help?”
            “Yes, I’ll do it’’ he accepted, after briefly thinking it over.
            ‘‘Thank you,” a grateful Marcellus said.
            “I don’t suppose there’s any chance he can make bail?
            “The judge already ruled, “Marcellus said.  “No bail.”
            “I thought that might happen” an unsurprised Grant said.
            “Grant, one more thing. Your brother said if you’re in call him.  He’ll talk to his captain and get permission to add you to the case.”
           
                       
“I’ll call him as soon as I hang up, “Grant replied. “ George will probably want to talk with the guys first. Where are you staying?”
            ‘’We’re at the Tritown Hotel directly across from the concert hall,” Marcellus answered.  Suite 19 B.
            “O.K.  I’ll call my brother.”
            “Thanks again.  I can’t tell you how much we all appreciate it,” said Marcellus as he hung up.
            Grant phoned his brother and started the ball rolling.  Already he was focusing on the case.
****************************************3**********************************
Early that Sunday morning Grant pulled his Honda Civic into the police parking lot.  He was there to join up with his brother Detective George Paxton. They were going to question the other members of the band who might have some information that might help Jesse. As far as George was concerned Jesse needed a lot of help. During his police questioning yesterday, he admitted stopping by the Chase Office Building not to see Corvine, but to see their current manager for this tour, who Jesse had suspected of embezzling money from the group.  He had gone over the receipts and they just didn’t add up. This happened right about the time of the murder, about 4:30 pm.  His office happened to be on the same floor as Corvine’s Tritown office.  He wasn’t in his office however, and according to Jesse he went back to the arena.

George handed Grant the file on Jesse.  “Here,” he said “look at this on the way over but I can tell you it looks bad. He admits to being at the crime scene, and lord knows he had motive.   It’s no secret the bad blood that exists over the rights to the twins’ music.  Plus, we have a witness that saw Jesse at the scene of the crime around the time of the murder.”
“Well, let’s see how this goes. We’ve had cases before that looked lopsided going in and turned out the opposite way,” Grant offered.
            George just grunted.  “Read the file and the transcript of yesterday’s questioning. Maybe you can find something we missed.” He drove on in silence.
            George pulled into the parking lot of the Tritown Hotel.  The two brothers got out and took the elevator to Marcellus’ room. They interviewed Marcellus in his room then Lester Brown and Lionel Jackson in theirs. When they were done, Grant asked for the location of James’ room. Lionel rolled his eyes and wrote the room number down on a piece of paper.
            “It’s the suite on the top floor, he said disgustedly.  “Apparently it was a make or break deal for James to join this tour.  It was negotiated into his contract. He gets a suite at every hotel we stay at.”
            Grant and George thanked him and then left for James’ room. So far they had not gotten anything helpful.  In fact all three had attested to the fact that Jesse was gone from about 3:30-500. He had told the guys he had an errand to run. It was looking pretty bad for him.
 
                                                                                                                                                      
            When they got to James’ suite, George removed his badge and was going to knock on the door when it suddenly opened up. It was James.  He was heading out and was dressed to the nines, with a bright red ascot and a double breasted leather jacket. James was famous for his loud attire.  Grant didn’t approve, thinking it made his musical idol look like a pimp more often than not.   George introduced himself and his brother and explained why they were there.       James explained that he was going to catch a cab to dinner and then be dropped off at the arena, but he had a few minutes to spare.  He removed his leather jacket and asked them to come in. They took a seat on the sofa across from James, who sank into a huge chair with plush upholstery. George asked the first question. From the beginning, something seemed off with his body language.  He was fidgety and he failed to make direct eye contact, his eyes shifting from side to side. He was in his room until 5:00 or so the day of the murder, his usual routine on the tour.  He couldn’t speak to his brother’s absence, he said.
            Just as George was about to wrap things up, James blurted out an unprompted comment.
            “I don’t think Jesse did it!” he said.
            “He certainly had the motive,” George sad.  “Corvine’s legal tricks cost you guys millions.  I’d have been angry as hell.”
            “Yes, but you don’t know Jesse. He’s a nice guy- too nice. That’s what got us into this in the first place.”
                                                                                                                                         
Grant felt his defense of his brother lacked sincerity. “Well this investigation still has a long way to go,” he said. “Goodbye, Mr. Washington.”
            The brothers left, and George closed the door behind them.
            ”Did you see that?” Grant asked his brother.         
            “Yeah,” George answered.  “He sure seemed nervous answering those questions.”
            “He’s got to be hiding something, but what?” asked Grant.
            “I don’t know,” George said. “but I know where I want to go next. I’m very interested in talking with this witness who can place Jesse at the Chase Office Building at the time of the murder.” George paused. “It’s getting near dinnertime. You can go home. I can handle this alone,” he said jokingly. “I’ll drop you off at the station.”
“Are you crazy?” Grant asked. “No way would I miss this,’ he said.   “This may be our star witness!”
            “O.K.,” George chuckled. “Let’s go.”
            The two brothers climbed into George’s car and took off.
            George pulled into a spot along the curb in front of Mrs. Philips’, the eye witness. The two brothers went to the front door and rang the doorbell. Mrs. Phillips, a middle aged woman, answered.
            “Yes,” she said unaware of the purpose of this visit and who these two strangers were.
                                                                                                                                              
George showed her his badge, introduced his brother and then reminded her that they had spoken on the phone earlier. They just wanted to ask her a couple of questions.
            “Oh yes, of course,” she replied.  “Detective Paxton…you’re right on time.”  She motioned them toward the couch in the living room.  She took the recliner opposite. She reclined the chair and put her feet up. “‘I hope you don’t mind, but I am a health care worker. We are always on our feet.  Mine are killing me. “
            “That’s quite all right,” George said. He reached for his trusty notepad inside his breast pocket and began. “Now then, Mrs. Philips,” he said “I was going over the transcript of what you told the police yesterday.  You were at the Chase Office Building to see your lawyer but it doesn’t say why.  Why were you there?”
            “Does that matter?” she questioned.
            “You never know it may or may not.”
“O.K., “she answered. “My husband has lung cancer and the insurance company is refusing to pay some of the bills that I feel are their responsibility.  I am tired of arguing on the phone so I am getting legal representation: Wexler of Hammett, Wexler and Colton from TV”
“Mrs. Phillips,’’ Grant asked, “wasn’t Mr. Phillips with you at this time “?
“No, I’ve got bad feet so he left me off near the front door. I was waiting for him on a bench near the first floor elevators while he found a space in the parking lot. I was still waiting for him when the elevator doors opened and out stepped one of the Washington twins.  I ran right up to him and he confirmed it.  He admitted that he was Jesse Washington.  I asked for his autograph and he signed on back of one of the only pieces of paper I had- the back of the envelope in which the medical bill had been mailed. The whole encounter must have taken maybe three minutes, but my husband missed it all. When he finally got there I told him all about it.  We then went on to the attorney’s third floor office.  But I told the cops all this yesterday,” she stated.
Grant had seen Jesse’s file. He wondered why this was not in there. “Mrs. Phillips,” Grant asked, “do you mind if I take a look at that autograph?”
“No,” she answered. “I plan to frame it, but I haven’t done it yet.  I’ll fetch it for you.”
She retrieved the autograph and presented it to George, who took a quick look and then handed it over to his brother.  Grant examined the signature.  He had spent a lot of time fixated on the signatures on his signed album cover as Garrett drove him home yesterday.  He had looked at them enough to see that Mrs. Phillips autograph did not look like Jesse’s signature. Still, he wanted to be sure.
“Do you think I could keep this overnight and return it tomorrow?” he asked.
The woman was reluctant to part with her prized possession.  She suggested an alternative.  “I have a printer that can make copies.  Would a copy be good enough?” she asked.
“That’s fine.” Grant said.
She excused herself and came back with a copy, which she handed to Grant.
                                                                                                                    
George had a couple of more questions, but she had nothing else to add to yesterday’s testimony.
 The two brothers said their goodbyes and then hopped back into George’s car.
“What a break!” Grant said to George. “I can check this autograph against my autographed album when I get home.  I don’t think it will match but if it doesn’t we’ve got evidence and a new suspect. We’ll see.”
George dropped Grant off but followed him home. This was too big a break. He could not wait until tomorrow
When the boys got to the house they stormed in and made a beeline for Grant’s den and his signed album. Grant took out the copy of Jesse’s signature and compared it to the one on the album.  Just as he thought, it was different. What’s more the last name of Washington on the Phillips copy looked exactly like the last name on James’s album signature.  Could Mrs. Phillips have actually met James on his way out?
There may be a security tape. Now if the tape could only establish his physical presence there, that could do it.  It would have to wait until tomorrow.  But George made plans to pick up Grant at the close of school tomorrow. The boys had a lot to do.
*************************************** 4******************************************
               At 2:30 sharp George pulled up to the front of the school and picked up his younger brother Having conversed by phone on Grant’s lunch hour, he learned that someone looking like Jesse had indeed been at the Chase Office Building according to the security tape .  His attire was just what Jesse had told George he had on, a green sweater and a Detroit Tigers baseball cap.  Also seen on the tape
was a person with sunglasses who could have been James but the sunglasses obscured his face.   But this person was seen giving an autograph to Mrs. Phillips just as she had said.  He was wearing a leather coat and a red ascot just as James had on when the boys went to see him at his hotel room. Now if Mrs. Phillips can describe her autograph signer’s attire that would be enough evidence to convict.  They were headed to her house now.
               Arriving at Mrs. Phillips they hurriedly went to the door and rang the doorbell.  Mrs. Philips answered. She had been expecting the visit and she invited them to sit down on the sofa again. They complied and George spoke first.
               “We are sorry to bother you again,” he said, “but there has been an important development in our case. We have just one more question but it is very important.”
               “Mrs. Phillips,” Grant chimed in.  Think carefully. Can you describe what Mr. Washington was wearing?”
               “That’s easy because he was dressed very flashy. He had on a double breasted leatherjacket which looked real expensive.  Round his neck he had a bright red ascot that would have put Rudolph’s red nose to shame.”
               “Are you absolutely sure?” Grant asked her.
               “I am positive, he was dressed to the nines.” she replied.
               “Would you be willing to testify to that in a courtroom?”
               ‘If you need me to describe his outfit to help your case, I’d have no problem with that.  I’d have had to be going blind to have missed that outfit. “
                                                                                                                                                        Pavao16
“O.K, thank you.  That’s all we needed to know,” said George.
               “Can you tell me why this was so important?” Mrs. Philips asked.
               “We can’t discuss the case,” Grant said.  But I’d hold off on framing your autographed signature. It may be a forgery.”
               “Oh, goodness me,” the lady sighed “I should have known it was too good to be true.”       
               The brothers left the house. On the way to George’s car he said “well that confirms it.  Grant, do you know if the Fabulous Ones are still in town?’
               Grant had memorized the next couple of the tour stops.  “Yes, they are off tonight but are doing the next 2 nights in Boston, then one night in Worcester , but they are driving in from their hotel here in Tritown rather than have to pack and unpack.”
               George glanced at his watch.  Mrs. Philips’ house was on the way to the hotel.  They could be there in ten minutes.  “It’s only 3:45 now.  What do you say we pickup James Washington before he has dinner and bring him to the station?”
               If we can get him to corroborate what Mrs. Philips told us Grant nodded, I’d say we have enough.” He concurred.  They got into the car and left.
               Just as George was about to knock on James’ door, he opened it. Again he was all dressed up and going out.  “Aw man, not again!” he exclaimed with irritation in his voice. “You guys got some timing.  What is it this time?”
               “There are some new facts which have come to light that we need to discuss,” George said.  “May we come inside?”
                                                                                                                                                       
“Yeah come on in and sit down,” he said reluctantly.
               The Paxtons went in and again George started off.  “Mr. Washington, we have an eye witness who will testify to the fact that she saw you in the lobby of the Chase Office Building at the time of Corvine’s murder.”
               Knowing he had passed himself off as his twin, he wondered how they could have known it was him.  He decided they were bluffing and to play dumb. “That wasn’t me!” he lied.
               “Mr. Washington,” Grant began.
               ‘’You can call me James,” he interrupted, turning on his famous charm.
               “James, is that you signing an autograph for this woman?”  he asked, showing him a picture he took on his I phone of a screen shot from the security tape. “The signature says it’s your brother but the handwriting doesn’t match. You’ll notice the outfit you are wearing on the tape is exactly what you have on now.”
               James did not speak for several seconds, mulling over what he had just been told. Finally, he began in a quiet tone. “O.K., you got me,” he said.  He figured if there was a security camera that would do him in.  “I didn’t see one and was hoping...” he said his voice trailing off. He drew in a deep breath and began again. “All right. I killed Corvine but it was an accident.  I didn’t mean to kill him.  I’ll come clean. I’ll tell you the whole story.”
            “All right,” George said, “You say it was an accident? Then why were you at the office building where you knew Corvine had his office?”
 
                                                                                                                               
“O.K. Yes I knew Corvine’s office was there. It was there when we were with him.  It was his first office-he never got rid of it.  What’s more I knew he’d be there.   I am friendly with the lead singer from his top group The Moonlighters. He told me his manager was signing a new contract there. It was a convenient meeting place because the group had a gig in Boston.”
            “You knew he would be in his office,” Grant said,” but why did you want to see him?”
“When Corvine got the rights to our music it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. You’ve got to try to understand. It was like having your child kidnapped.  Over the years I scrimped and saved and begged for loans and even took out a second mortgage on our home.  Finally I had gathered enough money to make Corvine a decent offer to buy the rights back. Imagine having to pay for something that you and your brother created.  Anyway if I could live another twenty years the music should increase in value to the point that it would be a net plus deal.
            ”What happened when you made your pitch? “George asked.
            “He listened to the whole thing. Then he said there’s too much bad blood between us. Even if he made a profit from the sale, he wouldn’t sell just out of spite. He said he hated me and my brother, whom he called a spineless jellyfish. He said he would never sell, his voice loud and venomous”
            “He laughed, a more sadistic laugh you never heard-right in my face! He was having a real belly laugh at my expense. Something in me just snapped.  I balled up my hand into a fist, wound up and cold cocked him with everything I had.  He went down like a shot. I think I knocked him out because he was face down on the carpet behind his desk. Then I thought ‘what if he hit his head on the corner of his desk on the way down?’  I walked over to his prone body and nudged it with my foot- I kind of shoved him in the ribs with my shoe. There was no response.  I waited another couple of minutes then nudged him again. Nothing!  He must be dead!  I hadn’t touched much, but I found a towel in the ice bucket at the bar and wiped my prints off of anything I did.  Then I high tailed it out of there. Just my luck I was spotted by the fan on the ground floor.   I didn’t have much time to think but I signed my brother’s name to throw you off.  I didn’t want to catch no murder wrap! It fooled her so I thought I had a chance. I should’ve known they’d have a security camera.  Well, that’s the whole story.”
            Grant had listened carefully to his story. James Washington had been his idol. If his story was true maybe he’d get off with manslaughter.  But something was troubling him. “James, I have one more question. If you succeeded your brother would have been charged with murder. How could you do that to him?”
            “Look,” James said, the anger in his voice unmistakable “My brother cost me a fortune when he lost the rights to our music.  Given what it is worth now, given our 50/50 split that means I lost over 200 million. Do you know what a difference that money would’ve made in my life?  I hate my brother with a passion.  He deserves to suffer.”
Grant just hung his head. His idol had certainly fallen off his pedestal today. 
 
                                                                                                                              
George took out his cuffs and placed James under arrest for the murder of Baron Corvine.  As he was read his rights, Grant began to focus in on the case after having been distracted by his former idol.  Something still didn’t seem right.  If Corvine had hit his head as he crumpled to the carpet, then why didn’t James mention an abrasion?  He said nothing about it, but it was listed on the coroner’s report. Plus there was something that he had read in the police report sweep of Corvine’s office that was gnawing at him but he could not remember what it was.  Maybe he needed to take a second look at that report.
            They brought their prisoner in for booking.    Justice was done-or was it? Grant wasn’t sure.
******************************************5***********************************
            The next day at school, Grant could hardly wait for that final bell. When it rang he hurriedly left and before you knew it he had arrived at the police station. He met George at a prearranged room.  He had the report on the crime scene Grant wanted to review. While he was looking over the report George did some paper work. Within minutes he had found what he was looking for.  “George,” he called out to his brother “It says here they found a hand written list- a recipe for homemade knockout drops.  Unable to locate any of the ingredients in the office, the investigators thought nothing more of it because of Corvine’s history.  They thought he had dropped it on the floor. Can you fill me in on this history?”
                                                                                                                                                  
                                                                                                                                                      
“O.K.,” George said. “You’ve seen the guys’ lack of business scruples. He also lacked moral scruples as well.  He was always screwing around and he had a handful of rape charges against him.  He used to “slip a mickey” frequently to weaken the resistance of women he was going to sexually assault. Unfortunately, all of these cases were either settled out of court or the woman mysteriously withdrew the charges.” 
            “This is bothering me, ‘Grant said.  “I don’t believe this has anything to with James Washington, but what if somebody else dropped that recipe.   They could be the murderer!  I’d like you to keep this case open while we check it out.”
            “You’re kidding,’’ George said.  “We can prove motive and we can place Washington at the scene of the crime.  He even confessed for Chrissakes!”
            ”I know but I think we owe it to justice to explore it further.”
            “Are you sure you’re not letting the fact that this was your music idol cloud your judgment?”
            Grant got angry. “I assure you that is not the reason.  Besides I lost a lot of respect for him.  C’mon George. Keep the case open. I promise if it looks like it’s going nowhere we’ll drop it like a hot potato.”
            George thought about it.  He stroked his chin. “Well your instincts have always been dead on before.  Ok, I’ll give you 3 days. If it looks like this is a dead end by then we‘ll call it quits.”
                                                                                                             
“Oh thank you George,” he said, extending his hand. “You won’t regret this.”
“We need to do some research and find anyone out there who would be mad enough at Corvine to kill him.”
“I already know someone.  His first partner, Billy Fischer.  Corvine really screwed him over.”
“Tell me about it, Grant.  I never heard it before.”
Grant complied.  “O.K.   When Corvine started off he and another local kid went to Detroit and started their own record company, Soul Records. It was a small company and they were struggling. The guys auditioned The Fabulous Ones after their one record deal with Solar Records had expired. Corvine, who had a real eye for talent, could not believe that they were not re-signed.  They were raw and needed a lot of work, but Corvine could see the great potential there. But rather than sign with Soul Records, Corvine had other ideas in mind. He left his partner and decided to start a new record company of his own, Motor City Music, with The Fabulous Ones as his lynch pin. The silver tongued devil smooth talked the group into signing on.  Billy could not survive on his own, and within a couple of years went bust. Corvine, on the other hand, prospered.  The Fabulous Ones became superstars and they helped attract many other talented acts as well. Though he always played second fiddle to Motown, he had the top rhythm and blues group in the country and had carved out a nice existence for himself. Billy went back to Massachusetts. He currently is the manager of a record store.  If anyone had a score to settle it’s him.”
                                                                                                                 
“I’ll tell you what.  Tonight I’ll do some more research. I’ll look for anyone else who might want to harm Corvine. If that leads anywhere I’ll follow it up, then I’ll come by the school and get you about 3 o’clock tomorrow and then we’ll go and talk to this Billy Fischer.”
“O.K.,” Grant said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.  Goodbye.” He began the long walk to his car, relieved that the case was still open but still unsure who the murderer was.
***************************************6 *********************************** 
            The next day at 3:25 pm Grant and his brother George entered Raspberry’s record store for their pre-arranged meeting with Billy Fischer. This Tritown store was one of a chain of music stores across the country and Billy Fischer was this location’s manager. Upon entering George made the appropriate introductions and displayed his badge, Fischer said they could use his office and after calling a young lady to take over for him, (she was apparently his assistant manager), they followed him into a back office. He sat down at his desk, and they followed suit into two hard back office chairs on the opposite side
             Once they were all seated, Fischer asked why they were there.
            “We are investigating the murder of Baron Corvine, on Friday night.” George said.
            “Yes, I read about that in the papers,” Fischer said.  “I guess he finally crossed the wrong guy.”
            “You don’t seem too upset about it,” George commented.
 
                                                                                                                                                  
            “I’m not.  If that makes me guilty, you should arrest me right now.  I’m entitled to feel this way. I’m sure you know of our history. That has got to be what brought you over here.  Well, I didn’t kill him. What happened between us happened a long time ago.  Yes, I’m still bitter about it, but I had to put it behind me if I wanted to get on with my life. I was still very young and had a lot of life ahead of me. That’s all water under the bridge now.”
            “Mr. Fischer,” Grant said “that is a commendable attitude, but we must ask you, where you on the night of the murder, last Friday, November 13th, at about 4:30?”
“I was right here working at the store till 5:00. My usual shift Mon.-Fri.”
            “Is there anyone who can back up your story?” Grant asked.
            “My assistant manager was working with me.  She is here today.  Her name is Jennifer Simpson.  There were others.  I’ll make a list of their names and contact numbers.  If you like you can use my office to question Ms. Simpson.”
            All right,” George said.  “We will use your office. Make out that list and leave it for me We’ll take it with us when were finished.”
            Fischer made out the list. Before leaving he sent Ms. Simpson back to his office. The brothers questioned her. She backed his story up. She gave a very detailed description of the work they were doing that night; inventory.  George could chase down the 3 employees on Fischer’s list tomorrow while Grant was in school but it wasn’t necessary.  Fisher had his alibi. It wasn’t him. A quick confab in George’s car revealed that Grant felt the same way.

            George reached into his briefcase and removed a file and handed it to Grant.  “What’s this? “ he asked.
            ”It’s where we’re going next.  While you were in school I was doing some research. It seems Baron Corvine was a real player.  He just about had a girl in every city.  There was one girl in particular with whom he had a 10 year on and off again relationship.  He kept her around by promising he’d leave his wife when his two young boys got older.  His wife died of cancer after 19 years of marriage.  She saw this as an opportunity for them to get hitched but he had no intention of marrying her and never did.  Seeing that she was nothing more than a goodtime girl to him, they had a huge fight and broke up.  I think if there’s someone who would want to do him harm it would be her.”
            ‘Seems like a solid suspect all right,” Grant said while reading the file. Noticing her name, he cried out “Her name is Bambi?!”
            “Yes,” George concurred. “as you might suspect with a name like that, she was an exotic dancer.  She is short on brains but makes up for it with a body full of curves in all the right places. She has a place up in Quincy. I told her we‘d be stopping by. Keep reading. It’s about a 30 minute ride.
            When they got to her Quincy apartment, she opened the door “Yes,” she asked, “can I help you?”
           
                                                                                                                               
While George identified them, Grant looked over the suspect carefully.  George had given an accurate description. Though she must have been in her sixties now, she still looked youthful but the hard edge was unmistakable.  She had on a lot of makeup and a blonde wig.  She had piercing blue eyes which betrayed the fact that she had come up the hard way and was nobody’s fool.
            She led them to a couch in the living room of her modest apartment. There was someone sitting on the couch with his legs up.  He was reading the comics section of the local newspaper. Introducing the person on the couch as her brother, she slapped his legs down to make room.
            “This is my younger brother, Bobby, “she said. Then looking at him said, “Why don’t you take a powder? These detectives have some important questions to ask me about a case they are working on.” Her brother had been mentioned in the file.  He had a history as long as your arm.  Nothing serious.  B&E, petty larceny, vagrancy even some safecracking. He was in and out of jail, and the two of them had even been caught in a couple of senior citizen scams they had worked together in their twenties.
            He stood up next to his sister and stuck out his hand.
“Harrumph.” She gave a disgusting grunt but opened her purse and took out a twenty dollar bill, which she placed in his outstretched hand.  Keeping it extended, she then searched again and took out a set of keys which she also thrust into it. “Don’t go joy riding. Just go to the package store and back.” she ordered. “Oh yeah, pick up a bag of potato chips while you’re there.” He picked up an off- white trench coat which had been draped across the chair, threw it on quickly and left.
            “Black sheep of the family,” she explained.  “You guys are brothers. Any one at home like that?”
“No,” George answered.  They were the only two siblings in the family.  Now if you don’t mind” he said reaching for his notepad and pen, “may we begin?”
            “Yeah go ahead. On the phone you mentioned Baron Corvine.  I don’t know if I can be of much help. I haven’t seen him for 4 years.”
            “It was one of the poorest kept secrets of the music world, “George said, “but you had a 10 year affair with him, didn’t you?”
“I admit,” she shot back “I was his lover for the better part of ten years. We had a bitter break-up but that’s ancient history now.  I’ve moved on.
“You weren’t close after the breakup?”
            “Afterwards, no. Before, it was a different story.  I first met Baron at this club I was working at in L.A. and he came in to see the show.  I was an exotic dancer.  It was love at first sight-at least I thought it was.  I eventually gave up on the West Coast and went back East.  Baron set me up and even was paying for this apartment until the breakup. We were together every moment he could get away.  But I was the other woman. Every child’s birthday, every family holiday –he always spent it at home. That would leave me out in the cold. The marriage was loveless but his wife was old school Catholic and did not believe in divorce. They stayed together for the sake of the boys.  She died of cancer in the mid-eighties. I waited for about a year then began pressing Baron to get married. But he was adamant about not getting remarried. It was then I realized he would never marry me and called it quits. My work as a real estate agent keeps me[gp1]  afloat and able to pay the rent.
            “Ms. Grimes,” Grant said, using her last name,” Corvine was killed around 4:30p.m. Friday last. Where were you at that time[gp2] ?”
            “My brother and I were home all evening.”
              “Is there anyone that saw you?”
            “No, but you can go next door and ask Mrs. Epstein. I bet she saw our lights from under the door. She is like the neighborhood watch dog, the old busybody, she sees everything. She reminds me of the nosy neighbor from Bewitched.  Go ahead and talk to her. She is right across the hall: apartment # 19. I bet she can tell you something.”
            “O.K., I will do that,” Grant said.  Turning to his brother, he asked “George are we through here?”          
            “No further questions,” he said to Ms. Grimes, scrambling, to his feet.  “Please stay local as we may have more questions later.’’ He and Grant left and knocked on the door to apartment 19.
           
     A small, slightly hunched woman with her hair tied into a bun answered. She looked to be in her early 70’s.            
                                                                                                                                                           “Hello, ma’am,” George said as he introduced himself and his brother and displayed the police badge. The old woman let them in and motioned them into the living room while asking why they were there.
            “We are working on a homicide case. We need your help.” George said.
            “Yes,” Grant agreed. “Mrs.[gp3]  Epstein, did you see the neighbors from across the hall, Ms. Grimes and her brother, at about 4:30 on Friday the 13th.”
            “Well, yes and no” she said. “You see I always do a load of laundry at precisely 4:00p.m. on Fridays.  This particular Friday I had a light load.   I only had one- half a basket so I decided to take the stairs. It is only 1 flight.  I’m old but I’m not dead yet,” she joked. “On the way up the stairwell I looked through the glass door and I did not see our neighbor’s car in their assigned parking spot. When I got back to my apartment I looked at Bambi’s apartment and could see the living room light shining from under the door. That was pretty strange, I thought, but then I remembered that her brother was staying with her now, and he may have had the car. So you see I really can’t say for sure.”
            “That’s O.K. Mrs. Epstein,” Grant said. “What you didn’t see tells us a lot.” They said their goodbyes and thanked the woman.
       
On the way to the car George spoke, “She lied about her whereabouts at the time of the murder.
 “Yes,” Grant agreed. “She has no alibi. But what is it she is trying to hide?  Yes, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned but she doesn’t seem like the murdering type to me. Still she’s hiding something though. I think I’d like to take another look at that tape. I think it is too big of a coincidence that her deadbeat brother picks this time to show up.  I have a hunch but I need to see that security tape again. Can you get that for me?
            “Big brother consider it done.”  George said.   I’ll have it for you to see after school tomorrow. Just come by the station.”
            It was a long ride home. The whole way, Grant could not keep the case out of his head He was getting close. He could feel it.
***************************************7*************************************
            Grant went down to the police station immediately after school the next day. He was in one of the interrogation rooms on the second floor. He was looking for something on the security tape from the office building.  Suddenly he found it and pressed stop. It was a picture of someone with sunglasses on. Like Bambi’s brother he had an off white trench coat. It looked identical to the one he wore when he went to the package store.  Another unmistakable similarity was the cap from under which his red hair stuck out.  Bobby Grimes has red hair.  Perhaps the most damning thing was the cap.  It had a confederate flag on the bill of the cap.
                                                                                                                                           
Bambi’s brother had on the same type of cap yesterday.  The facial features, with the sunglasses on and the coat collar being pulled up made it impossible to be sure but it was certainly damning evidence.  Grant took out his I phone and took a picture of the screen.  The time stamp on the corner of the screen read 4:20. Perfect! He picked up the phone and dialed his brother.
            “George” he said, “this is Grant, I found what I was looking for on the tape.  Bobby Grimes was at the office building when the murder was committed.  I have a theory on who did it. I’ll tell you when I see you.”
“O.K., Grant.  I think we’ll make another trip up to Quincy- this time unannounced.  We don’t want to scare them off.  I’ll be right there.”
He hung up the phone and went and collect his brother.  They headed for Quincy in George’s car. On the way there Grant relayed his theory to his brother on how he thought it happened. One of the Grimes siblings did the deed.  His theory had some gaps, but he was hoping when the Grimes duo saw how close they were one of them would crack and spill the beans.
When they got to the apartment, George stated the purpose of the visit; more questions.  Also this time they would like to talk to Bobby as well. Immediately, Bambi tried every excuse she could think of to get out of it. Only when George threatened to take both of them down to the station did she finally relent.  She went into the adjoining room, where Bobby had been watching T.V. Reluctantly, he followed his sister into the living room. Then they all sat down. George removed his notepad and pen and prepared to ask the first question.  Bobby interrupted him.                                                                                                                                       
“I have to protest this, “he said.  ‘’I am on probation for B & E.  I’ve kept my nose clean for 6 months now.  Ask my probation officer.  I had nothing to do with this!”
“Let’s all calm down,” Bambi urged.  “We can nip this right in the bud.   Did you talk to old lady Epstein?  Can she prove we were here?”
“Yes,” Grant spoke up. “About that… she did see the light shining through from under your door on her way back up from the laundry room.”
Taking this as an exoneration, she began to sing the praises of the woman.
“‘What a kind old lady,” she gushed “she’s always looking out for everybody…”
‘’But,” Grant interrupted her “she also noticed your car was gone. You told us the two of you were home all night. You could have turned on the lights before you left. You lied to us!”
“That nosy, good for nothing, busybody,” she said, apparently changing her opinion.  “I didn’t lie,” she said without missing a beat. “My brother took the car briefly to get us some fish and chips.  Isn’t that right, Bobby? “
“Oh yeah, Bobby?” George asked, standing ready with his trusty pen and notepad.  “Tell me where you went to pick it up. I’ll check it out.”
Bobby’s slow and stammering response was interrupted by his sister.
                                                                                                                            
“You probably went to Nick’s on the corner?” she asked.
“Yeah… that’s it. I went to Nick’s” he said to George in an unconvincing tone.
“Bobby,” Grant said. “You say you were with your sister, here all night last Friday?”
“That’s right.  The two of us were here all evening.” His answer sounded… rehearsed.
            Grant reached into his pocket and pulled out his I phone. ‘Because I got this picture from the security camera at the office building Corvine was killed at.  It looks a lot like you,” he showed the photo to Bobby.
            “That isn’t me,” he said, clearly panicked, with a sideways glance at his sister. She stared back at him, as if imparting her strength onto her brother.  She remained calm and cool.
            “Really?” asked Grant, “because if you look closely the trench coat that person in the photo is wearing is identical to the coat you had on when your sister sent you to the package store yesterday.”
            He squirmed uneasily in his chair.
            “Stop harassing him!” Bambi shouted.  “He already said it wasn’t him.”
            “Bobby,” Grant said. “look at that picture again.  See what the person is wearing on his head. It is a cap with a confederate flag on it. It’s just like the one you have on your head right now!  He raised his voice for emphasis in an attempt to break him.   A necessary tactic because Grant didn’t have the full picture yet.
                                                                                                                          
It worked.” All right, I admit I was there.”
“Shut up, you idiot! “ Bambi shouted at her brother.  “Don’t you see what they are trying to do?  They need more. They are trying to get one of us to break.”
            “I don’t care.  I’ve done time before. I can’t do life. Besides nobody killed anybody, it was an accident.”                                                                                                                                
“Let me see if I can paint a picture,” Grant said. There was a recipe for homemade knockout drops found on the floor. I’m[gp4]  guessing it belonged to Bambi. You were going to slip him a mickey. It was probably his own homemade recipe.  You knew Corvine had a safe in the office. You may have even known the contents; although Corvine rarely told a soul what was in there.  Anyway, you figured you’d slip him a mickey and while he was out your brother would use his safecracking skills to get into the safe.  Your revenge would be to steal whatever it was that was so important to him he didn’t trust a bank to keep it. But something went wrong. Corvine was struck on the head and died of his wounds. This was more than either of you had bargained for. So you carefully removed any trace of being there and left as quickly as you could.”
“That’s almost completely right, except for the part about…”Bobby was interrupted by his sister.
 
“Hold on, you pathetic weakling,” Bambi interjected. “We should have made him try to proof all this in court. Oh well, the cat is out of the bag now.  It was my scheme, I’ll fill in the gaps.”                                                                                                           
“Baron hurt me deeply when he dumped me.  I decided to hurt him back.  The only way to get back at someone like that would be to take away from him something material that he values dearly. I knew what he kept in the office safe was exactly that. He blurted it out one drunken night.  It was the master of the record My World. His most valued possession-so valuable that he didn’t trust the banks to hold it for him –you were right about that Mr. Paxton.  Last I heard it was worth several hundred thousand dollars, at least 8 or 9 of the group’s other records. My brother’s safecracking skills were needed to break into the safe.”
“Even if he knew I was the one that stole it, he would never go after me in court. I knew too much.  He hardly wanted me to sing, which I would have done in court. He could have gone the other way; try to track me down outside of the law. That’s why my brother and I purchased plane tickets to get out of the country.  We weren’t going to stick around. A fence my brother met in prison would find a buyer for us who would turn that master into cold cash. That would have stuck it to him good.”
 “The Chase Office building was old –built in the twenties.  My brother opened an old-style window and I came in by the fire escape, avoiding the lobby security camera. I made my way to Baron’s office. The pretense was we would go out to dinner together.   The scheme was for Bobby to lay low in a nearby men’s room until his services were needed”
                                                                                                        
“Almost from the beginning things did not go according to plan. When I got there, a groggy Baron was on his hands and knees behind his desk.  I rushed over to him and helped him up.  He told me had an argument with James Washington and that James had knocked him   out for several minutes with a right cross. Stumbling back into his chair, it was clear he was still stunned.  I saw an opportunity so I asked him if he wanted a drink to steady his nerves.  He did and asked for the usual, which I knew to be Scotch-neat.  I went over to the bar and pored the drink. Baron was looking down on his desk, holding his head with both hands. I decided I would slip him the mickey I’d made and had in a vial in my pocket. At least I thought it was in my pocket.  I frantically rifled through both pockets before realizing the vial was in my purse.   In my haste, I must have dislodged the homemade knockout recipe and it fell from my pocket to the floor without my knowing it.  Fortunately Baron was still out of it.”
“I mixed the solution in his drink. Ironically the recipe was the very same one he used so many times before on unsuspecting girls, which I did not know at the time. I got the recipe from Baron’s pharmacist. He was a kind of Dr. Feel-good character. It was not hard to charm him.”
            “After about 20 minutes, Baron’s ever increasing slurred speech stopped and he abruptly stood up and fainted dead away, hitting his head on the desk corner on the way to the floor.   He landed with a thud. I went to his prone body and nudged it with my high heeled shoe. There was no movement.  I immediately left the room and came back with Bobby.  As he was removing a stethoscope from his trench[gp5]  coat to listen to the tumblers of the combination lock on the safe, I noticed a pool of red liquid pooling around Baron’s head.  I went over to him for a better look.  It was blood! I knelt down next to him and tried to find a pulse. There was none.  He was dead!”             
           “Bobby saw what happening and went over to have a closer look. When he saw what had happened, all I said to him was.  ‘Change of plans.’” “I told him to forget everything else. Just wipe down everything he touched. Then we’d get out of there.”
            ‘What about the Master in the safe?’” Bobby asked.”
‘No time’’’  “I answered. I instructed Bobby to take the towel from the ice bucket and to remove all fingerprints including in the men’s room.  I took the glasses out of the room and washed them out thoroughly in the ladies’ washroom.”
“It was a freak accident,” she said to the brothers. “There was no pre-meditation.”
            “Well, that will be up to a jury to decide,” George said reaching for his cuffs, reading them their rights and arresting them. The ride back to the station would have two more people in the car, but it was very quiet.

                                                                             Epilogue    
            Mark Twain once famously said if you don’t like the weather in New England just wait a minute. Well maybe it takes a little longer than that, but not much. Twelve hours can make all the difference in the world. Last night, the weather was miserable on the ride back to Tritown as it had been all day long.  It was raw, windy and a cold drizzle filled the air. A few wet snowflakes were even mixed in. This morning, as Grant prepared to get into his Honda Civic and leave his beautiful suburban home in Lakeview and make the ten mile ride into school, it was a glorious late November morning. Bright sunshine, it was clear and the sky was cloudless. Quite a difference. As Grant got into his car, his cell phone rang. He answered it even though he did not recognize the incoming number.
            “Hello, “Grant said.
            “Hello, Grant, this is Marcellus Gray. I just wanted to call to thank you for your fine work to get James freed.  I just came from the station and picked him up. He’s in the car now and wants to join us for tonight’s concert.”
            “That’s good news; thanks, but it was a group effort to free an innocent man.”
            “I’m sure you had a lot to do with it,” he said. Grant could hear James saying something. “Hang on, Grant, James wants to talk to you.”
            “Hello, Grant,” James said. “I want to thank you for helping to get me off.  I understand it was you who kept at it even though the evidence seemed lopsided “
            “You were innocent. I would have done the same for anybody,” Grant said without emotion.
            “Look, Grant.   I know I let you down with my behavior towards my brother. You know sitting in a jail cell gives one a lot of time to think.  I think that forty years is too long to hold a grudge. I’ve decided to reconcile with my brother if he wants to. I’ll approach him about it later today.  Anyway, thanks again. Here’s Marcellus.”
     

            “Hello again,” Marcellus said. “I just want to tell you if there’s anything I can do for you, anything at all, just name it. I owe you big time.”
Grant was about to graciously decline, when suddenly he had an idea. Certain his request did not violate ethics requirements, he continued.  ‘‘There may be one small thing you can do for me.”
            “You name it-anything.”
            “Are you fellas leaving the hotel today?’”
            “We were supposed to. We play in Nashua, NH tonight and then we were supposed to fly out to the Midwest but they added a second Nashua show. It’s not that far away so we are staying at the same hotel for one more night.  Why?” Marcellus asked.
            Grant told him what he had in mind. Marcellus laughed and said it would not be a problem. Then they hung up and Grant went off to school.
            Grant arrived at his destination at 4:00 P.M. He hadn’t called ahead, keeping the element of surprise. He hoped somebody would be home. He was encouraged when he saw the car in the driveway. He rang the front doorbell.
            Mrs. Phillips answered.  “Hello, Mr. Paxton” she said. Then, remembering the report she had seen on the news, she asked “Isn’t this case over? They said so on the T.V.”
           
​
“Yes the case is closed,” Grant said. “I’m not here on police business.  I picked something up for you on the way over here.” He placed his school briefcase on the sofa. Opening it he removed an item and handed it to her, explaining. “I felt bad that the autographed signature you got was a fake, so I stopped by the guys’ hotel and got you this copy of their first album, signed by all five of them.  I can assure you all of the signatures are legit.”
            The woman squealed with delight. She called her husband and son from the kitchen to show off her newly prized possession. Grant’s work was done.  He said his good- byes.  Mrs. Philipps thanked him profusely on the way out.  He heard her close the door behind him.  He paused and looked up at a brilliant orange sunset.  As he entered his car and turned on Sirius Radio, his favorite Beatle song, A Day in the Life, was playing.  He smiled.  It had been a glorious day.


 [gp1]me

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