Ghost on the Case (Bailey Ruth #8)(49)
I went to the blackboard, printed the initial sentence. I underlined innocent three times, then squeezed my tired face in thought, forced myself to concentrate. I needed Sam’s help. As Mama always told us kids, “If you want someone to join your parade, play the trombone like you’re Tommy Dorsey.”
SUSAN GILBERT NOT GUILTY
Check for Susan Gilbert’s prints in the cabin.
Confirm Susan Gilbert not a gun owner, has never shot a gun.
Gunshot at seven past ten occurred outside cabin, near lake. Ask Officers Porter and Warren to describe shot. If the gun went off inside cabin, the sound should have been muffled, less distinct.
Person who called Susan Gilbert to arrange meeting at the cabin was male.
Wilbur Fitch’s murderer attended luncheon where Wilbur called Susan and asked her to open the safe and bring the Roman coins and Juliet Rodriguez talked about Susan’s ditzy sister, Sylvie. Five men attended the luncheon in addition to the host. Those men are Ben Fitch, George Kelly, Alan Douglas, Harry Hubbard, and Todd Garrett. One of them killed Wilbur Fitch and Carl Ross. It is important to determine their whereabouts last night between nine and ten thirty p.m. Do not approach them directly. Ascertain their activities from other sources.
? ? ?
I was at Lulu’s at six a.m. Thursday when the lights flashed on and the door was unlocked. As I stepped inside, I glanced at the mirror behind the counter. I take special care in choosing my ensemble for a challenging day. I admired my choices, a pale blue blouse with dark blue cotton dots, white wool slacks, and blue moccasin flats with silver metallic beads. But when I slid onto a red leather stool, my gaze went straight from the image to the round clock. One minute past six. At noon, if the schedule still held, there would be a press conference at the mayor’s office starring Neva Lumpkin. The mayor would likely be eager to announce that Susan Gilbert was being held as a material witness, that she had been found at the scene of yet another murder. This would be a stellar press day for Neva Lumpkin. Would she be content to settle for Susan as a material witness or would she press for an arrest today?
The stool beside me creaked. Sam Cobb looked weary in the mirror, face somber, brown suit wrinkled, likely the same one he’d worn yesterday. “Claire stayed up ’til I got home. I told her to sleep in, I’d pick up a bite at Lulu’s. Thought you’d be here.” He looked up at the waitress. “The lady and I are together.” He ordered for both of us and included all my favorites: sausage, grits, fried eggs, waffles, and Texas toast.
The waitress gave him a bright smile. “Coming right up, hon.”
Sam waited until she moved away before he gave me a level stare. “I went by the office first. The DA will ask me if I believe in unicorns if I try to convince him Gilbert’s not the perp because of some leeway on the ETD.”
As Mama always said, “When you disagree with a man, say it like you think he’s wonderful.”
I gave him an admiring look. “Of course we all know”—I put us in the same lifeboat—“ETDs can be questionable. Lots of variability. But when the ME arrives on the scene so soon after death, isn’t the estimate more likely to be accurate?”
“Hmmm.”
Our orders arrived. Sam put honey on his toast, I plopped butter in the grits. We spoke between bites.
“Cell phones register when calls occur, so the fact that Susan received the call a little before ten won’t be in dispute. Moreover, her sister can testify the call was received in their living room.” I indulged myself and pooled a little honey on my plate. Sausage and honey are scrumptious.
Sam ate stolidly. “Hmmm.”
“Of course”—I beamed at him—“Jacob Brandt was cautious, he always is, but he clearly thought Carl Ross had been dead for at least an hour, probably longer. In fact,” and now, as per Mama, I spoke with pleasant certainty, “it’s likely Ross was shot at nine thirty. That gave the killer time to use the phone in the cabin and call Susan’s cell.” I looked at him inquiringly. “Did the tech find fingerprints on the telephone?”
Sam was halfway through his waffle. I decided it would not be tactful to inquire if waffles were included in his diet. He looked like he was enjoying his breakfast, if not the conversation. “Indeterminate.”
“What does that mean?”
“No clear prints.”
I felt a surge of satisfaction. “As if perhaps the last person to hold the cradle did so with a gloved hand.”
“Could be put that way.”
“And where were Susan’s prints found?”
“At the sink. On the cold-water handle.”
“Anywhere else?”
“No.”
“Back to the telephone with smudged prints. A call from the cabin would show Wilbur Fitch on caller ID. Sylvie told Susan the call was from the Fitch house. Susan said the caller spoke very softly. If the killer made that call, Ross was already dead, so Brandt likely was right that he died around nine thirty.”
“Yeah.” Sam wasn’t too concerned. “A defense attorney can spin the time, get Brandt on the stand, but Brandt will be the first to hem and haw, say ETDs are variable, yes he could have been shot a few minutes after ten, and then the DA points out with great drama that two officers arriving on the scene heard a shot at seven past ten and found Carl Ross dead upon entering the cabin and the defendant there with Ross’s blood on her shoe.”