Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 04 - With This Ring Page 5

  “I promise to go about this carefully and judiciously,” I said. I was ready to promise him anything. Or at least I would promise him anything but never to do anything impulsive again, because I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I could ever control my impulses to that extent. Impulsiveness was a trait I was born with and one I’d had to learn to live with. I was true to my Zodiac sign of Aries. Stone was having to learn to cope with my impulsiveness now, and not having an easy time of it.

  Still, I felt so much better already just knowing I wouldn’t have to sneak around behind Stone’s back, or at least not as much as I would have had to otherwise. And knowing he would go along with whatever I decided to do about the wedding was a load off my mind too. “By the way, how did you find out I spoke with Mr. Blake?”

  “The investigating squad interviewed him again early this afternoon and he told them about seeing someone move the blinds over the kitchen sink, and shouting what sounded like ‘peas’ at five-thirty in the morning. When they asked him why he was just now relating new details to them, he told them he’d already reported it to their WSRC this morning, so it should already be in their files. After he described you to the officers, it didn’t take Wyatt long to figure out who’d spoken with Mr. Blake earlier this morning. He knows you almost as well as I do by now, and is as concerned about your safety as I am. You do realize that was a foolish thing to do, don’t you?”

  “I do now, and I’m truly sorry. Do you think I’m in legal trouble for impersonating an officer? I didn’t mean to. It’s not at all what I had in mind. It just sort of happened that way because I wasn’t thinking of the consequences at the time.”

  “Do you ever consider the consequences before you act? And no, thanks to Wyatt, you’re off the hook. But the chief recommended you didn’t try a stunt like that again. And I highly recommend you pay heed to his advice,” Stone said. “You do know that impersonating an officer is illegal, don’t you? You’re lucky you weren’t charged with a federal offense. Trying to solve one crime should not involve committing several others. Two, or three, wrongs don’t make a right, you know.”

  Now I remembered why I liked Wyatt so much. He could get me out of trouble as fast as he could get me into it. It was nice to have an officer of the law in your corner every once in a while when a situation like this arose. Detective Johnston always seemed to cover for me when I got myself into deep doo-doo. It would be wise of me to keep the cookies and doughnuts coming.

  “Yes, I realize that. Thank God for Wyatt. Say, do you think we could go speak with Bonnie Bloomingfield this afternoon?” I asked. It was probably pushing my luck to bring this up so soon after being offered Stone’s reluctant assistance, but unlimited time was not something we had in abundance. “I found a Howard Bloomingfield listed in the phone book on Cedar Street, the same block Mr. Steiner lived on. Bonnie might be able to remember something she forgot to tell the authorities when they interviewed her. By now she won’t be in such a state of shock, and she may be able to remember things more clearly. She might also reiterate information Wyatt forgot to pass on to us. It couldn’t hurt to ask her, anyway. Could it?”

  “Why do I feel like I’ve been talking to myself? Did you hear anything I just said? Do I need to make an appointment with an audiologist for you?”

  “Don’t be silly. My hearing’s just fine. But you said you’d accompany me when you could and I guess I thought you honestly meant it.”

  “Oh, boy,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “What have I gotten myself in to?”

  Chapter 4

  “Mrs. Bloomingfield?” I asked the frail-looking woman who finally came to her front door after I’d knocked several times. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, and she was hunched over. I recognized the telltale hump protruding from her back. She was a victim of osteoporosis, no doubt. I took a monthly medication and extra calcium in an attempt to ward off the bone-thinning disease, as it had a tendency to run in my family. “Good morning, ma’am. Are you Mrs. Bloomingfield?”

  “Who?” She asked. She looked befuddled at the sound of her own name.

  I spoke louder as I repeated myself one more time, afraid the elderly woman hadn’t heard me over the sound of a car traveling up the street behind me. I guessed her age to be somewhere in the late seventies, or so.

  She still looked slightly confused, I noticed, as her husband, who looked even older than she, stepped up behind her. “Yes, we’re the Bloomingfields. I’m Bonnie’s husband, Harold. Can we help you?”

  “Good afternoon, Harold. It’s nice to meet you and Mrs. Bloomingfield. My name is Lexie Starr, and this is my fiancé, Stone Van Patten. We’re involved in the crime scene investigation of the murder of Thurman Steiner. We’d just like to speak with you for a few minutes, if that’s all right with you. It won’t take long.”

  “All right,” Harold said, with resignation in his voice. I imagine he was already worn out from all the questioning by the investigative team. He motioned us inside as he continued to speak. “Come in, we’ll sit in the kitchen. Bonnie, do you think you could fix these folks something to drink? What would you two care to drink? We’ve got tea, hot cocoa, or coffee if you’d like some.”

  “Oh, no, we don’t want to inconvenience you in any way. We’ll just be a few minutes, just long enough to ask Mrs. Bloomingfield a few questions,” I assured the elderly gentleman. I would’ve killed for some coffee, but wasn’t sure Bonnie was up to fixing me a cup, nor did I plan to stay long enough to drink it.

  “Okay,” he said, “if she’s able to answer any questions this afternoon. I’m not sure she’s in any shape to do so right now. And please call us Harold and Bonnie. Bloomingfield’s a mouth full and sounds much too formal.”

  “Thank you, and we’d like you to call us Lexie and Stone,” I said, as I turned to face his wife. “Bonnie, what can you tell us about what you remember happening when you found Mr. Steiner’s body?”

  “Who?”

  “Your neighbor, Pastor Steiner. The gentleman you discovered dead in his home.”

  “Who?” She asked again. Bonnie was beginning to remind me of a hoot owl. All she’d managed to say so far was “who” in answer to my questions. I was sure now she was extremely hard of hearing. I nearly shouted at her as I repeated myself yet again. Maybe it was she who should make an appointment with an audiologist.

  “We’d like to hear it all,” I said, loudly and slowly, “even if it’s repetitive of the statement you gave the authorities who interviewed you shortly after the incident occurred.”

  When Bonnie just looked at me in confusion, Harold spoke up to inform us his wife was having one of her bad days.

  “Is she hard of hearing?” Stone asked Harold.

  “Well, yes, slightly. But her real problem is that she’s in the middle stages of Alzheimer’s, and some days are worse than others. The trauma of finding Mr. Steiner dead seems to have affected her and caused her to be more bewildered and forgetful than normal. She’s been in a state of shock and disbelief since the tragic incident. I believe her mind has shut the memories out to protect her from the psychological stress of the horrific event. You can imagine how much something like that would affect anyone, particularly someone dealing with Alzheimer’s.”

  “Oh, we’re so sorry to hear she suffers from that terrible disease,” I said. Stone nodded in agreement, as his father had suffered from it too. Alzheimer’s also ran in my family, and was something I was terrified of getting. Just forgetting where I’d laid my car keys was enough to send me into a full-scale panic. I decided to direct my questioning more toward Mr. Bloomingfield. I smiled at Bonnie and patted her hand, then looked directly into Harold’s eyes.

  “What do you recall Bonnie telling you after she’d called nine-one-one and returned to your house?”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t home at the time. I’d spent the night in Knob Noster, where our eldest daughter lives.”

  “Knob Noster?” Stone asked. He’d only lived in Missouri for about
a year and still hadn’t heard of many of the nearby towns.

  “Yes. Knob Noster is on Highway Fifty, west of Jefferson City. It’s where Whiteman Air Force Base is located, and is the home of about two dozen B-2 Stealth Bombers.”

  “Oh, really? How interesting,” Stone said. I could tell he was about to ask Harold something about the stealth bombers. Harold was probably a military buff, like Stone, and I didn’t want them to veer off the subject of Steiner’s death. We’d promised to make the visit short.

  “And you left Bonnie here alone while you went to Knob Noster?” I asked, before Harold could say anything more about the air force base to Stone.

  “Is that safe?” Stone added, back on track in the conversation about Steiner. He glanced over at Bonnie, who was picking absentmindedly at loose strips of vinyl on the arm of the old-fashioned kitchen chair.

  “Well, you need to understand that on most days Bonnie’s not this confused and forgetful. She gets along pretty well the majority of the time. She’s never wandered off and gotten lost for more than a few minutes at a time, or anything of that magnitude,” Harold clarified. “In fact, she’s only wandered off from the house a couple of times, and both times I found her right next door in the neighbor’s yard. Although the bouts of memory loss and confusion seem to be getting more frequent, this is the worst I believe I’ve ever seen her. But then, this is the most shocking thing that’s happened to her since the onset of Alzheimer’s. Had I known this was going to happen, I’d have never left her alone. Unfortunately, I can’t predict the future. And I’ve always put Bonnie’s best interests ahead of my own.”

  Harold sounded a little defensive, as if we’d accused him of taking poor care of his wife in her current condition. We hadn’t intended to offend him, but still I was curious. “Why didn’t she go to Knob Noster with you?”

  “Bonnie gets carsick when we travel such distances,” he said. Now he sounded very annoyed and defensive. “She also tends to get a backache, so she rarely travels with me to see the kids. Our two daughters, and the grandkids, who are grown now, come here to see her as often as they can. I traveled to Knob Noster this time to watch our youngest grandson, Nicholas, graduate from the University of Central Missouri. We felt it was important that I attend to acknowledge his achievement.”

  “Of course it was important. Congratulations,” Stone said. “That’s quite an accomplishment for Nicholas.”

  “Yes, we’re very proud of him,” Harold said, his expression softening momentarily as he thought about his grandson. “But as far as Bonnie is concerned, I’d suggest you two come back tomorrow morning. She’s in no condition to answer questions right now, but she’s nearly always more lucid and clear-minded in the mornings. I just don’t have the answers to give you. I’ve only picked up pieces of Bonnie’s story since I returned home this morning. I’ve been reluctant to ask her questions and confuse her even more. I got most of my information from the detectives who stopped by here earlier. I should think one visit from the investigators today would have been sufficient.”

  We thanked him for his time and promised to return at nine o’clock the next morning. He agreed. I could tell he felt he had no choice in the matter, or he’d have never let us cross his threshold again. We hadn’t meant to infer we were official investigators. I really didn’t want to cross that line again, but if it helped us get information from the Bloomingfields I wasn’t going to correct Harold. As we stepped out onto their front porch, he shut the door rather firmly and noisily behind us. “Good riddance,” I was sure he was saying on the other side of the door.

  On the way home to the inn, which was only about two or three minutes from the Bloomingfields, Stone and I discussed his change in attitude. “I’m not surprised,” Stone said. “I’d become upset if anyone implied I didn’t take good care of you, and those two have probably been married over fifty years. I believe him when he said he’d never have left Bonnie to her own devices had he known something like the pastor’s murder was going to involve his wife. I’m sure in most instances he’d feel comfortable in leaving her home alone for a short amount of time, or he’d have never made the trip to Knob Noster, not even for the sake of his grandson.”

  I wasn’t convinced, but I kept my opinions to myself. Was he really out of town, or could he have had a feud with his neighbor and somehow been involved in Steiner’s death? Bonnie probably wouldn’t remember if he was home at the time or not. Feuds among neighbors were a common occurrence, even in the best of neighborhoods. The chances of Harold Bloomingfield being involved in the pastor’s death were slim, but I had to make sure I didn’t overlook any possibilities. I had a bad habit of judging everyone to be guilty until proven innocent. But so far that theory had worked out well for me.

  * * *

  Wendy called as I was fixing dinner that evening after we’d returned from the Bloomingfields. She was just checking in, and making small talk about Stone’s nephew, Andy. He’d arrived with the U-Haul and was in the process of moving into his new ranch property. Being a rancher was an entirely new endeavor for Andy, having been a private charter pilot since earning a pilot’s license right out of college.

  In early June, he’d be taking a commercial flight to Myrtle Beach and flying his own five-passenger plane back to a nearby municipal airport where he’d rented a hangar. His Cessna 206 was a single engine aircraft, with fixed landing gear, and Andy kept it in excellent condition. He’d come to our rescue with his airplane when we were back on the east coast the previous year. He was a top-notch pilot, and I’d felt safe in the back seat of his plane.

  I knew he’d missed his Uncle Stone after Stone moved to Kansas from South Carolina. I also realized he and Wendy had become closer in the last year. In fact, although Wendy hadn’t said as much, I could tell she’d fallen in love with him. Andy had come to Rockdale on several occasions to visit, and he and Wendy spoke on the phone nearly every day. Wendy couldn’t have been any happier when she’d learned of his decision to move to the Kansas City area. The 640-acre ranch Andy had purchased was located just outside the city limits of Atchison, Kansas, about a half-hour southwest of Rockdale.

  I was very fond of Stone’s nephew, the son of his older brother, Sterling. Sterling was a commercial pilot, and Andy had followed in his father’s footsteps. Andy obviously enjoyed flying, and I wondered if he’d take to ranching with the same enthusiasm. He suddenly found himself with hogs, cattle, horses, chickens, and even a couple of ornery goats, to feed and take care of on a daily basis. I hoped he could easily adjust to the new lifestyle. It would be like me going from an assistant librarian to a rodeo clown overnight.

  I thought about telling Wendy about Stone’s decision to stand by me as we did a little prying into the circumstances of Steiner’s death. I decided against it, however. I really wasn’t in the mood for the lengthy and emotional lecture I was guaranteed to get from my annoyingly over-protective daughter. The guests would be down for supper shortly, anyway. I had a pot roast I needed to take out of the oven, and potatoes that weren’t going to mash themselves.

  * * *

  “Good morning, Harold. How are you this morning?” Stone asked Mr. Bloomingfield as we stood on his porch at exactly nine o’clock the next morning. Stone hadn’t been quite as enthusiastic about revisiting Harold and Bonnie as I had, but I was able to convince him to come along. I think he was afraid of the bone-chilling interrogation I was apt to conduct if I visited the Bloomingfields on my own. He knew we’d already gotten off on the wrong foot with Harold.

  “I’m fine,” Harold said, in a rather stilted voice. “Bonnie is much more cognizant this morning too. Come on in, folks. It’s nice to see you again.”

  He didn’t actually look happy to see us, but he opened the door to allow us into his home. Bonnie sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in her hand.

  “Coffee?” Harold asked. Stone declined, but I nodded enthusiastically. If there was one thing I rarely turned down, it was a cup of coffee, and I could see
a nearly full carafe of already brewed coffee on the counter. If I was stranded on a deserted island and could only pick three items to have with me, coffee would be one of them.

  “Good morning, Bonnie,” I said, as I reached over to pat her left hand, which was resting on the table. “How are you this morning?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Who are you two again?”

  I knew she didn’t recall our visit from the day before, so I introduced Stone and me and informed her we were going to ask her a few questions involving the murder of Pastor Steiner. She seemed to understand what I was telling her. I gave her a couple of minutes to pour some coffee, and then asked, “Can you run through, for us, just what happened that morning you found the deceased pastor?”

  “Well, you see, I couldn’t sleep the night before. I kept waking up and was tired of tossing and turning. So I got up and went into the living room to watch TV. An old movie, The Day After, was on and I didn’t remember having ever seen it before. It was about the devastation in Lawrence, Kansas, the day following a nuclear bomb being dropped on the vicinity. I found it interesting, of course, since Lawrence is so near to us here in Rockdale.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “It’s an interesting movie. I saw the film years ago, in the early eighties. If I remember right, one of my favorite actors, John Lithgow, was in it.”

  “Yes, and Jason Robards portrayed a doctor in the movie,” Bonnie said. I realized she was indeed very lucid and felt confident we’d get a good accounting of the way the events had unfolded the morning of the murder. I could understand now why Harold felt comfortable leaving her home alone while he traveled out of town to make a short visit with their daughter and grandson.