The Breeze

"No one remembers her at all. Too bad I thought we were on to something with that fisherman idea. I really don't see her as the bar type. Too much chance for that asshole husband of hers to find out. You know how people love to talk." Ruth suggested.

"I'd bet my last dollar she met him somewhere that morning for the first time," I said.

"What makes you think they weren't long time lovers," she asked.

"Call it a hunch based on some pretty thin assumptions," I said not wanting her to laugh at my reasoning.

"Well you have been a hundred percent wrong so far," Ruth admonished.

"Yeah, so I have to be right sometime," I suggested.

"Not you Johnny, you can be wrong a hundred percent of the time. Look at me, you could have been married to me all these years." she said with a chuckle.

"Ruth, please try to find someone who can trace her steps Friday for us," I almost begged.

"We are trying, but she has no neighbors up there, at least none who are down at the moment. Before you asked I checked and there were none last week either. Nobody much knows her."

"Did Edward notice anything new around the place?" I asked.

"We didn't get a chance to ask. He got pissed at Eddie and tossed us out." she informed me.

"What did your boy do? Pick his nose?" I asked.

"No, Mr. Peterson thought Eddie was implying that he might have killed his wife. He told us to come back with a warrant, if we wanted to accuse him of anything. We have the Winston Salem police looking into his whereabouts on Friday." she said.

"Have them look for a girlfriend," I suggested.

"Why? do you know something I don't?" Ruth asked.

"Not really, he just strikes me as the type."

"He does at that," Ruth agreed. "A little too outraged you mean?"

"I guess," I admitted. "That and I just don't like him period."

"I know, I didn't think he acted just right either. I expect we are going to have to drive up to Winston to talk to his neighbors. I really hate road trips." she admitted.

"Maybe you can eliminate him from here. If the Winston Salem Police come up with the girlfriend for you."

"You think he was with another woman while his wife was getting herself laid, and butchered?" she asked.

"That's exactly what I think. I really think he is on a guilt trip, but not for killing his wife," I admitted.

"I know with a beautiful house up on shell island, why would they go to dump like yours to screw?" she asked with that nasty chuckle again.

"Thanks for the opinion, but I didn't ask for it." I replied. "Why don't you call a tame judge and get a search warrant for the house. There might be something inside to give us a clue where she have met her killer." I couldn't get over the idea that she had met him while shopping. I don't know why, I had it in my mind except that it is what women do at the, when they aren't sunning themselves. She could have met him on the beach, except shell island is a private community. He wouldn't likely be hanging around the beach up there. Unless he was a resident, in which case why would they bother to come here. Of course he might have his wife and kiddies down, but then why would he kill her. It all pointed to a killer who just picked her as a victim. I had a really bad feeling about the whole thing.

Monday was a pretty routine day until the process server showed up. According to the papers, I had a month to show cause why there should not be a trial. I ignored the papers as best I could. It didn't work too well, I almost lost money in the weeknight game.

The conversation at the game centered around the dead woman. Everybody had a theory and each was as bad as the other. The one that scared hell out of me, was that last year's two murders were connected to my murder. The reason it scared me was that a serial killer are hard as hell to catch. Not only that, every police force in the country tried to deny that they had one until it was shoved down their throat. I sure didn't want to be the one to even mention it. Mainly because it played into the lawsuit's hand. Not too many serial killers seduce their victims. Mostly they target them, then just go kill them. I didn't want it to be a serial killer. I wanted it to be a local man who left a trail a mile and a half wide. Damn I hated 'who dun its'. Most every cop did. I smiled to myself. I wasn't a cop and didn't ever want to be one again.

I slept through a lot of Tuesday. When I awoke, I found Lori behind the counter. "Lori it's time we had a talk," I said.

"What about Uncle Johnny?" she asked. She looked a little worried. "You aren't going to send me home because of that murder are you?"

"Not unless you are frightened," I replied.

"I'm not frightened, I am just not talking to strangers," she said seriously.

"That is a good policy anytime, but right now I can't say extra precautions are in order. What I wanted to talk to you about is running the Breeze. I'm afraid I have a lot on my mind right now. I may have to take off now and again. I mean even more than I have been."

"So you want me to work more hours?' she asked.

"That wouldn't be fair. You are working more now that I anticipated. I was thinking about getting you some more help. How would you feel about another person helping out around here?" I asked.

"Who did you have in mind?' she asked.

"Actually I didn't have anyone in mind. I thought I might try to pirate somebody from Poppa or one of the other motels." I said.

"How about hiring Bobby? He needs a job," she informed me.

"Bobby who?" I asked.

"Bobby the boy who painted the motel. He needs a job until the fall." she said.

"And he wants to be near you?" I asked.

"That too," she admitted.

"Okay, but he has to get rid of the paint on his hands and tell him no jeans and tee shirts. He also has to wear socks. Lori one more thing, he is not be within twenty feet of your room." I said seriously.

"I think we can live with those rules," she said possessively.

"So tell him he has the night shift three nights a week and on call all the other nights. Lori, he is not to know what goes on in thirty one." I ordered.

"I don't really know what goes on in thirty one, but I have a pretty good idea." she smiled.

"You probably have the wrong idea, but it doesn't matter as long as you don't talk about it to anyone, not even your father." I informed her.

"So are you going to find the murderer?" she asked.

"What in the world makes you think I could find the murderer easier than the cops?" I asked.

"Poppa says you can. He told me that the devil couldn't hide from you in hell. You would just reach down there and pull him out by his forked tail." she laughed.

"I think you made that up," I said.

"Oh no, that is the word around here. It seems that Maude told everyone you were a genius." she said smiling at me. "So are you going to find him?"

"No but I may go looking for him," I admitted. "Chances are real good that I won't find him. It's not even fifty fifty that the cops will right now. Their best bet is the tip line. If Kate was trying to hide her movements, then they will probably come up with nothing."

"It sounds so hopeless, what do you think you can do?" she asked.

"Nothing, if I had a place to start it would be a lot easier." I admitted.

"You know they ran a color picture of her in the Sunday paper?" Lori asked.

"Yeah I saw it, I even cut it out," I admitted.

"Well Bobby read it because it happened here. Anyway, he thought he had seen her before." Lori said almost shyly.

"Really where?' I asked not really expecting a coincidence like that to mean anything.

"At one of the arts festivals during the spring. You know Bobby is a member of the Artist Guild." Lori said proudly.

"That doesn't surprise me at all. The kid is talented. So call Bobby and tell him to get his skinny ass down here. I need to talk to him."

Bobby showed around four, just a couple of hours before I usually opened thirty one. "So Bobby," I said before he even got seated. "Tell me about Mrs. Peterson," I demanded.

"I'm not real sure it was her, but the woman I met looked a lot like the picture." he admitted.

"So tell me how you met her?" I asked.

"It was at the spring festival by the river. I had a couple of paintings and she was looking for something in particular. I offered to paint it for her but she wasn't interested in commissioning anything. She didn't give me her name but I'm pretty sure it was her," he said.

"So how can you be sure?" I asked.

"I saw her another time at one of the walk through the park exhibit," he said.

"What the hell is the walk through the park?" I asked.

"The city lets local artist set up easels in the park one weekend a month. A bunch of us try to sell a few paintings there. I am pretty sure she came through a couple of months ago. She talked to several of the artist but didn't buy anything." he informed me. "At least I think it was her."

"Bobby are you sure about all this?" I asked.

"Pretty sure," he said.

"Close enough," I said walking away from them. I went into the office to call Ruth.

"Ruth, why didn't you tell me Kate Peterson spent most of her time at the beach house?' I asked angrily.

"Because, I didn't know that she did. Are you sure?" she asked.

"Tell you what, get the electric bills for the house. I expect there was a sudden jump either last year or this year. They should have remained pretty consistent over the last few months." I said.

"Give me about an hour and I will call you?" she said. "Better yet, I'll come by the game tonight."

"Well don't keep me in suspense too long. You know I have a lot riding on this investigation." I said.

"Tell you what, just to be on the safe side, I am going to bring Bunny to the game tonight." she informed me.

"That might not be a good idea," I suggested.

"She knows about the game. Everybody who ever lived on this beach knows about it. Don't worry she will be cool." Ruth promised.

"Alright but don't sign me up for anything yet. I still have my money on you. Any word on the warrant to search the house?" I asked.

"If this pans out I will have a lot better chance. Sims is a lawyer you know. Judges don't like to pick on lawyers. If I can show he has withheld material information, I might have a chance.

"You can fill me in tonight at the game." I suggested.

"Right," she said hanging up without saying goodbye.

The game started early since we had enough to fill the table by eight. Nothing like a murder to bring in the business, I thought.

I was able to lose myself in the cards as I had not been able to do the night before. I was up a couple of hundred bucks when Ruth arrived. She had in tow a woman who was rather plain but somehow attractive. Bunny still had her freckles but had lost the thick glasses. She had the bright red hair, I remembered but not the twenty extra pounds. These days she was almost too thin. She dressed well enough to hide her lack of a figure. Bunny would never be a knock out, but she was in her own way attractive. Those days everyone was trying for the starved, urchin look.

I left the game and room thirty one so that Ruth and I could talk. Bunny followed. "So?" I asked Ruth.

"The light bill went up in February and hasn't gone down since," Ruth acknowledged. "So how did you know?"

"I found someone who has seen her on a couple of different occasions since February." I admitted.

"So who is this mysterious witness?" Ruth asked.

"Nothing mysterious about him. The kid who painted the motel is an artist. He saw her at a couple of sidewalk shows." I admitted.

"So where is this kid?" Ruth asked.

"I expect he is still in the office fawning over Lori," I said.

"I almost enjoy my job sometimes. I am going down to separate them so that I can talk to the kid. Am I going to need a crowbar?" Ruth asked.

"If you do, I am going to need a bullet proof vest when my brother finds out," I said.

"You stay here and tell Bunny all your problems," Ruth suggested mostly to keep me away from the interview.

"So Bunny, you have certainly changed," I said as Ruth walked away.

"It's called growing up," she said sharply. She paused a minute, before apologizing. "I'm sorry Johnny. I can't believe I said that. I didn't mean to infer that you hadn't grown up."

"Of course you did, and rightly so. I mean you come in to see me sitting at a poker table just like it was ten years ago." I answered.

"I have heard a lot about you over the last few years." she admitted.

"Don't believe it. It is all malicious gossip," I said smiling warmly.

"Damn, I must have missed the good parts," she said it with an equally warm smile. "What I heard was flattering."

"In that case it was all true," I said. We talked for a few more minutes before Ruth returned. Bunny proved to be witty and smart as hell. A combination I usually tried to avoid like the plague. Give me a dull, dumb woman every time.

When Ruth returned it was to inform me that she wasn't sure about Bobby. "He just doesn't seem positive enough." she said.

"Well it seemed like he knew enough to get us looking at the utility bills," I said.

"Yes, but it may have been a coincidence," Ruth said.

"Well, I am going back to the game, you do what you want." I turned to Bunny and said, "You come on back to the game anytime, and I may be calling you about the suit. That is if Super Sleuth doesn't solve this in a couple of more weeks." It was a lousy crack, but I felt lousy.

The game continued until four. After the game Poppa and I sat talking. "So are you going to look for the woman's killer?" he asked.

"I'm going to look, but the cops will be the ones to find him. That is, if he is ever found," I replied.

"You don't have much faith that he will be?" Poppa asked.

"Not unless the autopsy reveals he carved his name and address in her ass." I said.

"I think you will find him. You have more to lose than the cops. You don't know the judge down here, and he sure don't know you. You just might lose this place." he said.

"It's a possibility, but that is a few weeks off, at least." I replied.

After Poppa left, I went to the office. I woke Bobby up and told him to go home. Just as he reached the door I had a thought. "Bobby, tell me something," I demanded. "Was there any other artist she talked to at those show?" I asked.

"You mean the Peterson woman?' he asked sleepily.

"Yes the Peterson woman," I repeated.

"She seemed real interested in Jake McAllister's work." he said.

"Where can I find this Jake McAllister?" I asked.

"He has a studio downtown, but he might not want to see you. He is a strange cuss." Bobby said.

"In what way?" I asked.

"Jake is a con-artist," he informed me as though I should understand.

"You mean like a swindler?" I asked not quite sure I had it right.

"No like in a man who learned to paint in jail. Quite a few good artist learned to paint while doing time. They called it rehabilitation." Bobby said. "Couple of them like Jake actually had some talent. The others are better copy painters than original artist."

"So what was Jake in for?" I asked.

"I don't know. He don't talk about it much," Bobby informed me.

"You go on home and get some real sleep. Come back around six tonight." I ordered.

"Okay, but I am going to have breakfast first," he said as Lori entered the office.

"I'll cover until you get back," I informed Lori.

She nodded as the two of them walked from the office. So what should I do with the information, I wondered. If I gave it to the cops, they wouldn't allow me to sit in on the interview. If I tried to talk to Jake without a badge, he was just as likely to tell me to go piss up a rope. A compromise seemed in order. I called Ruth at the station.

"What is the word on the search warrant?" I asked.

"Two this afternoon, we are going to surprise Edward Peterson," she said with a laugh.

"So can I come along?' I asked.

"You know better than to even ask," Ruth admonished me.

"What if I give you a hot lead, can I come then?" I asked.

"No, but if you withhold evidence the chief will have your ass on a platter, with potatoes." she warned.

"I at least want to be a spectator when you serve the warrant, and I want to go with you when you question my hot lead." I said stubbornly.

"We do have a ride along policy. I guess you could ride along with me and Eddie," she admitted.

"Do we have to take Eddie?" I asked.

"If you are going to ride along we do," she was adamant.

"Okay, pull a rap sheet then come get me," I ordered.

Whose rap sheet do I pull?' she asked.

"One Jake McAllister, he is supposed to be a con artist," I said hoping she didn't know the term either.

"Why would a confidence man be involved in a murder?' she asked.

"Not that kind of con artist. A convict artist, of course he is out now, probably on parole. I just want to know why he was in the joint. If I could do it myself, I might not have even invited you along." I said with a chuckle.

"Sure you would, who else would listen to all this bullshit?" she asked.

"You got a point, how long will it take?" I asked.

"About an hour at Poppa's. You might as well buy my breakfast." she ordered.

"Done," I agreed.

I locked the office forty five minutes later. Lori hadn't returned. I found her at Poppa still drinking coffee. "Young lady, you have work to do," I suggested. "And as for you Bobby, you need to be gone in about ten minutes. The cops are on the way and I don't want you around when they show." I said.

"You aren't really mad that I took so long for breakfast are you Uncle Johnny," Lori asked.

"Not at all, no one will be coming to the office for another hour at least, but just the same you need to get back." I watched as Lori paid the bill. Bobby hadn't been paid yet. "Bobby," I called, then motioned him over. I slipped the kid a hundred bucks. I had a good night at the game. "Call this an advance against your wages." I said.

"Thanks," he said. I nodded as he left the restaurant. I waited another thirty minutes for Ruth and Eddie. "You guys are late," I said.

"Computer was down." Ruth explained.

"So what did our bad assed painter do?' I asked.

"Aggravated assault on a female," she said with a large smile.

"Very interesting," I agreed.

"So how did he know the Sims woman?" Eddie asked.

"For sure he talked to her at a couple of art shows, but I don't know that he really knew her. I know that he talked to her on occasion. I just thought he might be worth a look."

"Everybody is worth a look right now," Ruth admitted. The pressure is beginning to build.

"Is the autopsy report in yet?" I asked.

"By three or I am going to drive to the lab myself," Eddie said angrily.

The waitress came to take our orders. The conversion died until after we had finished eating. "So?" Ruth asked. "What your take on Jake?"

"I never met the man. I kind of wanted a little pull when I talked to him," I admitted.

"You are just an observer, remember?" Eddie reminded me.

"Sure, you don't mind if I suggest questions, if you don't ask the right ones?" I asked pleasantly. They both knew it was anything but a pleasant comment.

"You keep your mouth shut period," Eddie said.

"Sure you just remember where the lead came from in the first place," I suggested.

We left after breakfast. The two of them in their squad car and me in my Jap Jeep. We arrived at the Wilmington address around ten. The address turned out to be an old cotton warehouse. That is at least in the eighteen hundreds it had been a cotton warehouse. That day it served as galleries for various artist and other small business people. The city had waved half a dozen residence requirements to allow them to occupy the cotton warehouse as studio apartments as well as retail space. We found eight mail boxes for the four floors. The door had an electric security lock which gave way quickly under Ruth's lock picks. Entering the public lobby and stairway wasn't an invasion of anyone's privacy she needlessly explained. Jake McAllister occupied one of the third floor lofts. My aching knee wished it had been on the first floor, but I climbed the stairs almost as fast as Ruth. Eddie of course beat us both to the door.