Gunned: An Alex Harris Mystery Page 4

  I assumed the question was rhetorical, but she seemed to be waiting for my answer.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Andrea getting switched was all Sheldon’s fault.”

  “Your husband switched his child for another? Why would someone do this? He really was a, what is it you say, putz,” Annie said.

  “No he wasn’t! Only I can call him a putz. He didn’t change our daughter. I was planning on having the baby in New York. That’s where my doctor was. But it didn’t work out that way because I had to be back to our house in Connecticut and I wouldn’t have been there if Sheldon didn’t go and make some appointment I had to keep. So if he had just gone on his business trip and worried about home repairs after the baby, I would have been in New York and Andrea, I mean the real Andrea, would never have been taken. So you see, Sheldon was responsible.” Another tear ran down her face.

  That may have been the case, but there was no crying about it now. What was done was done. I needed to get back to the present.

  “Your husband was staying with his brother, so they were being friendly again?”

  “Jerry’s sick. Heart problems. I told Sheldon he needed to make amends. What happened with Jerry was thirty years ago. It was a quick fling. I was alone when I wasn’t in New York, pregnant, my best friend had just moved away. Jerry was available, but I knew it was wrong. I loved Sheldon.” Mrs. Spiegel’s eyes misted and a tear ran down her cheek. “Family is family and Jerry is sick. I told Sheldon to make peace with his brother, because God forbid the man dies. I know Sheldon. He would be consumed by guilt for the rest of his life, and instead he’s the one who dies, so maybe it will bring Jerry comfort, you know, that they were finally talking.”

  “Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill your husband?”

  “No. Of course not. Like I said, it had to be a random act of violence. Street thugs or something. We don’t live here anymore. He doesn’t have friends here. He doesn’t have any business here. It must have been a robbery gone wrong. The police said his phone and wallet were missing. So you see. He was mugged. He always carried a lot of cash. He liked paying for things with cash.”

  I took another sip of my water while I tried to come up with some more questions.

  “Mrs. Spiegel…”

  “Jackie. Just call me Jackie.”

  “All right. Jackie. What was your husband doing all the time he was here in Indian Cove? He only came to my office the day before he was killed. Maybe if we knew what he was up to and who he talked to, we could figure this all out.”

  “All I know is what I printed off his computer. He had some names and addresses and Millie, your assistant, my daughter, was at the top of the list. That’s why I went to your office first. I figured Sheldon probably had the names listed in some sort of order. He was like that. Organized, you know.” Another tear welled up in her eye and then escaped down her face.

  “Do you have a copy of the list you printed?” I asked hopefully.

  Jackie shook her head quickly. “No. I gave it to the police last night.” Jackie tapped her nail on the table again and just stared at me. I could feel myself reddening. Then the tapping stopped and she smiled.

  “You’re not a cop. Your husband’s a cop.”

  Here it was. She was going to clam up and I wouldn’t get another thing out of her.

  “You’re a yenta. It’s okay. I’m a bit of a yenta myself.”

  “A yenta?” I asked. Wasn’t that a Barbra Streisand movie? No, wait. That was Yentl. Maybe I was thinking of that thing, the relative of Big Foot. Wasn’t that a yenta?

  “You’re a yenta. A busybody. Nosy.” Jackie grinned at me.

  Now I really reddened. I took another sip of water.

  “Okay, maybe I am. My sister tells me I am, but here’s the thing, Jackie. Your husband came to see me. Then he died and I was called to identify the body. It was horrible. I have a stake in this. I need to know what happened to him after he left my office and why it got him killed.”

  “Fine. I don’t mind. As a matter of fact, I’d rather talk to you than the police, though your husband is a good-looking man. I bet he’s a mensch, a good guy. But he’s still a cop. They make me nervous. I have my own business. I find old stuff, clothes, jewelry, then sell it in my shop. It’s a nice place, I have a good clientele. So, okay, maybe I don’t pay all my sales tax, but who does nowadays. Cops have a way of sniffing that stuff out of you.”

  “I think you mean the IRS. John, my husband, he doesn’t work for the IRS.”

  Jackie tapped the nail again. “How about this. You ask the questions and then you can tell the police for me.” She sat back and smiled again.

  “It doesn’t quite work that way,” I said.

  Jackie shrugged. “Okay. Whatever. Like I said, he’s nice to look at.”

  If Jackie Spiegel only wanted to talk to me, I would do my best to accommodate her. As happy as I was to hear this, I had a feeling my husband wasn’t going to be such a mensch about it when he found out.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Despite Jackie’s desire to talk to me and only me, the woman had nothing more to say. She had no idea what her husband had been up to. She figured he probably talked to all the people on his list, but she couldn’t remember any of the names, and never thought to make a copy before she handed it over to the police. She only wanted to find Sheldon and bring him home before he totally alienated their daughter. Now he was dead and she had no idea what to do next.

  “Are you going to tell John about the taxes?” Annie asked as we made our way back to the car.

  “No. The police don’t care about non-paid taxes. That’s for the IRS to sort out, or the state of North Carolina.”

  “Not paying taxes is our national sport in Belgium,” Annie said. “It’s hard when you have regular jobs like Gerard and me because they take them from our money every month, but when you own property or have your own business, it’s just the way things happen.”

  I was well aware of the twenty-one percent sales tax Belgium had, and could see where cutting corners would be tempting for small business owners. Someone told me that when building a house, a lot of the construction costs were paid under the table to avoid the horrendous taxes.

  We got into the car and sat there a moment while I tried to figure out what to do next.

  “Did Shirley get back to us yet?” I asked.

  Annie reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.

  “Here it is.”

  She leaned closer to me and we looked at the names of the five other babies born on the same day, in the same hospital, as Millie. All girls. Of course one of those other babies was Andrea, but Shirley had included current addresses for all but one of the babies, now grown women. She had also included addresses for all the parents. I was glad I brought Shirley in on this case. I would never have been able to find out all this information. It bothered me that this stuff was out there in the first place, but I couldn’t do anything about that, and right now it was working in my favor.

  “Her list is missing one of the girls,” Annie said.

  “Probably moved out of state or maybe even the country.”

  “It is scary how much private information is on the Internet, no?”

  “Yes it is. I was just thinking that very same thing. It’s a wonder anyone gets away with anything anymore. Okay. I guess we could start by talking to the first person on the list and work our way through it.”

  “Mon Dieu,” Annie said beside me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, remembering what the expression meant, my God. This didn’t sound good.

  “Oh, nothing, it is just a long list. So many possible suspects. How will we ever figure out which one is the killer?”

  I had my hands on the steering wheel. “Well, that’s the fun of it, actually. And don’t forget that it could have been a random act like Jackie said, but we’ll never know unless we talk with everyone and sift through all the clues.”

  “
Do we have any clues yet?” Annie asked.

  I started the car and sighed. “Not yet. But the more people we speak with, the more things will start to fall into place. I always feel like you do right now at the start of all my investigations. It seems so overwhelming that I can’t believe I’ll ever make any sense of all the information.”

  “But you do?” Annie asked with a hopeful tone.

  “So far, yes. And sometimes what I find out leads me to a place I really don’t want to go. But you just have to follow one clue to the next.”

  “Bon. That is what we will do. Where to first?”

  “We might as well just work our way down the list. What’s the name of the first person?”

  Annie moved her finger around the small phone screen and found the name. “Jennifer Shalt.”

  She read off the address and showed me a small map she brought up on the screen. Jennifer Shalt lived in Indian Cove in a community of small, older homes. I pulled out of the parking lot and turned left. I vaguely knew the area and it only took us ten minutes to get there.

  “What number was it?” I asked Annie.

  “Three nine two.”

  I pulled up in front of a tidy house painted green with rust-colored shingles. There was a large dogwood tree in front and pots of flowers on the porch. It was a small older house, but someone had obviously put some work into it, especially in the yard.

  “Will she speak with us?” Annie asked. “We are not the police. How do you get people to tell you things?”

  “Amazingly, I find that people like to talk. I’m also not very intimidating as far as looks go, and I own my own business here in town, which seems to lend me some credibility, but you’re right, they don’t have to talk with us. Are you sure you’re okay with this? Would you rather be shopping or doing something else?”

  Annie quickly shook her head. “No, this is fascinating. I finally understand Gerard’s love of his job. He works such long days sometimes, and I admit we’ve had our disagreements over all the time he is away from our home, but I see it now. Interviewing the people, gathering all the information, seeing where it takes you next. You don’t want to stop. You want to run to the next thing to find another clue. It is addicting.” Annie’s look turned somber.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Alex, is it possible we may never find the answer? Does that happen?”

  I thought back to all the murders I had solved. Sometimes I didn’t think it would happen. There were times when I thought the murderer would go free, but in the end, a small clue would drop into my lap and all the pieces would come together.

  “There are so many crimes that go unsolved,” I said. “It hasn’t happened to me yet, but there’s always the chance we just can’t put it all together. But the more we hear and the more people we talk with, something usually clicks and brings everything together.”

  Annie clapped her hands together. “Venez! Let’s see what we can gather from Jennifer Shalt.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jennifer Shalt answered the door with a big smile.

  “Hi, come on in and thanks for being on time. The armoire is in the back bedroom if you’d like to follow me.”

  Annie and I exchanged glances and stopped right inside the front door.

  “I think you have us mixed up with someone else,” I said.

  “You’re not here to look at the armoire? Didn’t you call this morning?”

  “No, sorry. We’re here to talk with you about another matter.” I turned to Annie and she brought up a picture of Sheldon Spiegel on her phone. It was one we found on the Internet. “Do you know this man?”

  Jennifer Shalt crossed her arms and let out a huge sigh. “That man upset my parents. He went over to their house last weekend. We have a big family dinner every Sunday. My sisters and brother come and we’ve been doing it forever. And he just showed up. Why are you asking, because we already told him we didn’t want to be bothered?”

  “We don’t want to bother you. We’re just hoping for some information. What did he say?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry, come in. Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee?”

  “Tea would be nice.”

  Ms. Shalt went into the kitchen, and Annie and I sat down on what looked like a new sectional sofa. The room was bright and cheery, but through an archway I spied a small dining room with what looked like heavy antique furniture.

  “Here you go. By the way, please call me Jennifer. Sorry for the confusion, but I’m selling off some of the old furniture that was left behind when I bought this house, and I thought you were the person who called earlier.” She looked around the room. “It’s not my taste, and I could really use the extra cash.”

  She set a tray with cups of hot tea on the table and brushed away a strand of curly hair that had escaped the pile on her head. She wore a tight-fitting flannel shirt with equally tight jeans that showed off her slim figure. When she smiled I could see that she had those clear braces on her teeth.

  “So, who are you exactly? You’ll have to forgive me. I work in customer service and I have a tendency to be very trusting and open with people. But I’d like to hear what this is all about before I tell you anything further.”

  So I told her. I told her how Sheldon Spiegel had showed up at my office. I told her how I was called to identify the body. And I told her that the only reason I was there was to find his killer in an unofficial capacity, and was very happy when she didn’t ask me to leave.

  “Okay, I can understand your interest. The truth is I’m kind of curious, too. I mean, who wouldn’t be, right?” She put a spoonful of honey into her tea and took a tentative sip. “Too hot.”

  “Can you tell us more about what happened last Sunday?” I asked.

  Jennifer pushed the errant piece of hair away again and sat back on the other end of the sofa. “So, a little background. My family owns the Shalt nursery on the other side of town.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I thought the name sounded familiar. I’ve bought a lot of plants from there.”

  “It’s a family business and I run the office, all the administrative side. My brother handles all the landscaping part of the business and my two younger sisters work in the shop while they’re going to school. And we have a few part-timers for the weekends. My parents pretty much keep out of the business now, but they insist we all get together for big family dinners on Sunday. And the truth is, we don’t mind. My mom’s a great cook and we’ve always been very close.”

  I smiled. “Sounds like my family. We’re a close bunch, too.”

  “We were just finishing up dinner,” Jennifer continued, “when there was a knock on the door. Mr. Sheldon comes in and starts off by saying he had met my parents years ago when I was born at the same hospital as his daughter. He says he’s in town on business and thought he’d stop by. Seemed a little weird, but my parents are used to dealing with weird. You’d be surprised the strange people we’ve run into over the course of having our nursery. And my parents are nice people. I could tell my mom was touched that this man remembered her. So anyway, my mom invites him in. She told me later that she only remembered him because of his wife. She said the wife was nice and all, but kind of loud and had the nurses running back and forth a lot. Anyway, after the pleasantries, Mr. Spiegel told my parents about how his daughter must have been switched in the hospital. Now my father is starting to freak out. He stood up and said if Mr. Spiegel was trying to pull some scam he had better get out.”

  “So Mr. Spiegel left at the point?” Annie asked? “I think my husband would probably do the same thing.”

  “My mother started to get really upset and my father does not like to see my mom upset. You see, my parents were married for about ten years before I came along. I’m the oldest. They wanted to wait a while before having children to get the business running smoothly and do a bit of traveling. By time they got around to thinking about having kids, my mother wasn’t sure it would happen because of her age. They figured if
she didn’t get pregnant, they would just run the nursery and take care of their plants and live a good life, but secretly she really wanted kids. Then I came along and they were thrilled, and then my brother and sisters followed. My mom tends to overreact a lot, and the stuff this guy was saying really freaked her out. They’re really proud of all of us and there’s no way our little family unit was going to be disrupted.”

  “Then what happened?” I asked.

  Jennifer threw up her hands. “That was it. Mr. Spiegel said he was sorry and he left. It was freaky because the whole time he just kept looking at me. Not in a pervert kind of way, but just, well, like he was trying to tell if I might actually be his daughter.”

  “And how about your parents, were they concerned at all that his suspicions might be true?” I hated to ask and upset this young woman, but I was sure Mr. Spiegel’s activities to find out what happened at the hospital must be the reason for his murder.

  Jennifer shook her head, once again dislodging the piece of curly hair from the bun. “No, my parents calmed down, my brother and sisters laughed it off saying I was just like my mom and it had to be genetic, and then we had dessert.” Jennifer took another sip of tea and furrowed her brow. “The thing is,” Jennifer started tentatively, “I love my family so much and we all get along great, but, well, the truth is, I always felt a little different, and I don’t look anything like any of them.”