Gunned: An Alex Harris Mystery Page 5

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  As I drove to our next stop, which would take us to New Haven, Annie turned in her seat and looked at me.

  “Do you think there’s anything to what Jennifer said?”

  “You mean about feeling different and not looking like anyone else in the family?”

  “Yes. Do you think she could be the Spiegels’ daughter?”

  I took the next exit and stopped at a light before turning right. “When I was a kid I was certain I was adopted, but I looked a lot like my dad so I figured I wasn’t. It was just more of wanting to be adopted to make me more special at school and stuff. And we’ve all got brown hair, or at least my parents did before it went gray, but Sam’s hair has always been light and in the summer it can get almost pure blond. I’m not sure looks mean much. You can be a throwback to several generations. And besides, Jennifer Shalt may not look like the rest of her family, but she sure as heck does not look anything like either Mr. or Mrs. Spiegel.”

  “I think Mr. Spiegel must have thought that also.”

  At the next corner I made a left turn and then looked at Annie. “How so?”

  “Because he went to the Shalt’s home last Sunday and he came to your office when? Monday? If he felt Jennifer might be his child, why bother to check out Millie?”

  “You’re getting good at this,” I said. “But even if he did sense Jennifer was his daughter, maybe he just wanted to be sure. Maybe he wanted to meet everyone on his list before taking it a step further and asking for a DNA sample.”

  Annie nodded. “Yes. I understand this. Of course that is what he would do, but would someone just give him a DNA sample?”

  “That’s a good question. All the women concerned are of legal age, and if they refused I’m not sure what Mr. Spiegel would have been able to do about that. If they’ve had a good life all these years and are happy with their families, why would they want to stir things up? Personally, if he showed up on my doorstep and said he might be my father, I would tell him to take a hike.”

  “Take a hike? Like a walk?” Annie looked confused.

  “Sorry. It’s an expression. It means I would tell him to leave. To go away. I would think he was crazy,” I explained. Then I thought this over for a minute. “After I calmed down, the truth is, I would be curious. You’d have to be, right? I’m not sure I would go as far as to have a blood test, but it might get me to thinking. I would definitely talk to my parents about it.”

  “I’m curious to visit Jennifer’s parents and see what they have to say about Mr. Spiegel. Are they curious enough to have a test or did they want him to take a hike?”

  Annie and I had planned to drive over to their home after we left Jennifer, but she told us they had gone to Hartford to visit with Mr. Shalt’s sister. I was curious too. Would they have taken Mr. Spiegel’s concerns seriously or did they also think him a whack job. Or maybe they were so afraid of the man taking this any further that they killed him.

  “It’ll have to wait until Monday. Tomorrow you will be getting the full force of my family at the party my parents have planned,” I said.

  “I am looking forward to it. I want to meet everyone, but I am especially looking forward to meeting your grandmother. Gerard said John told him she is a very special person.”

  “She is. We’re very close. I usually have breakfast with her several mornings a week. Both Sam and I spend a lot of time with her.”

  Next on our list was Christine Jamison. I found the address Annie had mapped out on her phone, but had to drive around the block to find a parking spot.

  “We’ll have to walk. It’s not far,” I said, as I deftly parallel parked in a tight space—a skill I had perfected while in Europe.

  Christine Jamison lived in a brownstone on the third floor. She worked as an account manager for a pharmaceutical company. How the heck did Shirley find this stuff out? Annie was right. There was just too much information on the Internet.

  “I hope we have the same good luck with Ms. Jamison as we did with Jennifer,” Annie said, as we rounded the corner and made our approach to the brownstone. “After all, there is no reason for any of these people to speak with us.”

  “Well, at least it’s Saturday so we have a better chance of catching people at home.”

  We climbed the stairs and I rang the bell next to a small brass tag that said Jamison.

  “Yes?” a disembodied voice came through the speaker a moment later.

  “Hello. My name is Alex Harris and I’d like to speak with Christine Jamison regarding a Mr. Sheldon Spiegel.”

  I looked at Annie and raised my eyebrows. We were either going to be let in or asked to leave. There was total silence for what seemed like minutes, and then I heard the click of the door lock being released.

  “Third floor,” the voice said again.

  The building was well maintained, but unfortunately there wasn’t an elevator. We made our way to the third floor landing, and I was just about to knock when the door opened. Both Annie and I let out a small gasp.

  Christine Jamison was the spitting image of Jackie Spiegel.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Upon further inspection, the resemblance was only superficial. The hair color was right, and the dark eyes looked similar, but that was it. Christine Jamison was tall, much taller than either Mr. or Mrs. Spiegel, had olive-hued skin and an adorable dimple on either cheek. She was holding tight to the collar of a German shepherd, who was struggling to jump up on me.

  “He doesn’t bite or anything. He’s just a puppy and hasn’t learned to be polite yet. Have you, Norman? Come in, please.”

  We entered into a small hallway that opened up to a large living room with tall windows looking out to the street. Beyond the living room in the back, I could see a small kitchen and a door, which was probably the bedroom.

  “Have a seat. I was just about to take Norman out, so we’ll have to make this quick. Are you related to Mr. Spiegel? Because I’ll tell you exactly what I told him.”

  “And what would that be?” I asked, while gently rubbing Norman’s head.

  “That he’s crazy. Sorry. But I think he is. The man must be going through some mid-life thing, but there’s no way I’m his daughter.” She gave a quick shake of her head. “Crazy.”

  “Excuse me. I am very curious why a young woman living alone would let a strange man into her home. I have a daughter about your age and she would not do such a thing,” Annie asked.

  “No, no. Neither would I. As a matter of fact, I looked out the front window before letting both of you in. Of course, just because I saw two women at my door doesn’t necessarily mean you’re harmless. I guess I’m guilty of gender bias, but neither one of you looks very threatening.”

  “We’re harmless. I’m Alex Harris, by the way, and this is my friend Annie. We just have a few questions. So, you did let Mr. Spiegel in?” I asked.

  Christine shook her head. “I was just coming home after walking Norman and Mr. Spiegel was sitting out on the front stoop. Evidently, he rang the bell and then decided to wait when my neighbor, a nice but very nosy woman, told him she saw me take Norman out. We talked out front. I never invited him in.”

  “Ms. Jamison, when did he come by?”

  “Call me Christine. And he came by late Friday afternoon. I work from home a lot and I was pretty busy all day. I finally had some time to take Norman out in the late afternoon. It was starting to get dark. We walked to the park and then I stopped at the market and got some stuff for dinner. When I walked up to my house I saw Mr. Spiegel sitting out in front.”

  “Did he seem to have a surprised reaction to you?”

  “You mean like you two did when I opened the door?”

  I could feel myself blush. “Well, yes.”

  “He sure did. As a matter of fact he introduced himself as my father. That’s what he said. He looked right at me and said, ‘Hello Christine. I’m your dad.’ Crazy nut case. A real schmuck. I told him to get lost before I called the police.”


  The initial striking resemblance and the Yiddish term. I turned to Annie and could tell she was thinking the same thing. Could it be that Christine Jamison was the Spiegels’ daughter?

  “Christine, did Mr. Spiegel mention that you have a striking resemblance to Mrs. Spiegel?”

  “Oh, yeah. He told me I looked just like my mother. I told him I knew that already! I mean, what the hell? How did he know what my mother looked like? Then I realized he was talking about his wife. He was starting to freak me out.”

  “So you look like the woman who raised you?”

  “Yes, my mother. Shelley Jamison. Except for the dimples. She doesn’t have any. And the height. My mom’s short and has blue eyes. So, exactly what the heck is going on, because I didn’t get much out of Mr. Spiegel? He just kept telling me he wanted to take me to North Carolina to meet my real mother. I finally had to pull out my phone and threaten to call the police before he would leave. Can you believe that? Like I was going to get in a car or something and drive to another state with this weirdo.”

  “Did he come back? Later that evening or the next day?” I asked.

  “No, and he better not. I called my parents after he left, I was so upset.”

  “Had he gone to talk with them?”

  Christine pushed her hair out of her eyes and then brushed an imaginary speck off of Norman’s ear. “Not as far as I know, but my dad said if he came around and started making crazy accusations, he’d take care of it. And my dad has a temper and a gun. Not a good combination. So what’s with this guy? Why are you asking all these questions?”

  I told Christine how Mr. Spiegel came to my office and exactly what he was up to.

  “Well, if he comes back, you can be sure that I’ll call the police this time,” Christine said with certainty.

  “You’re not going to have to worry about that any more. He was killed. Sometime on Tuesday. Someone shot him in the head.”

  Christine looked from me to Annie and back to me again. She bit down on her lower lip. “Oh, crap.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Christine ushered us out quickly after that, saying she really needed to walk Norman, but I had a feeling she was calling her parents and probably telling her father right this instant to get rid of the gun.

  “Are you going to call John and tell him what we just learned?” Annie asked.

  I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. “Yes. But not right now. I want to talk with Christine’s parents first before the police get to them. Did Shirley by any chance have an address for them as well?”

  Annie pulled out the phone and scrolled through the list. “Here it is.” She turned the phone toward me and I looked at the address.

  “It’s in Hamden. Not too far. Shall we stop by?”

  “Do you really think Christine’s father would shoot someone just because they talked to her and upset her?”

  “Annie, since I found my first body a couple of years ago, I’ve been totally shocked by the reasons that people kill. Christine said her father has a temper. And he owns a gun. You should have seen my father last year when someone ran Henry, my nephew, down. He’s fine,” I added quickly at Annie’s alarmed look. “But the point is my father is a gentle man. Kind, patient. And if he could have got his hands on the texting bastard who was driving that car, well, I have no idea what would have happened. I might very well be visiting my father in prison each week. People kill for all sorts of reasons. And if Christine’s father thought Mr. Spiegel might come back, or worse yet, try to physically take Christine, then who knows what the man might do.”

  I thought about that as I made my way to Hamden. I wondered sometimes if the reason for killing really had nothing to do at all with the killing itself, but was more a deep seeded anger that was finally unleashed. Maybe my dad had a lot of fury building up in him. I couldn’t see it, really, but kids have a way of looking at their parents through rose-tinted glasses. My parents had both been strict with Sam and me, but it was our father that we could wrap around our fingers. Not that I did that very often. Really.

  I found the address for Christine’s parents easily enough, as I had cousins who lived in the area, and spent a lot of time visiting when I was a kid. The home of Jeff and Shelley Jamison was a split level in need of a new coat of paint. But the yard was well maintained and the street was nice with lots of old trees and neat yards.

  Annie and I got out of the car and made our way up the brick path to the front door. I rang the bell, but didn’t hear any sounds from within.

  “There’s a car in the driveway.” Annie nodded at an older model Chevy.

  I heard voices and followed the path around to the side of the garage. The voices were coming from the backyard, and we made our way along the side of the house to a spacious area.

  “Hello,” I called out loudly as I came around the side. No need to sneak up on a man who owns a gun. Two people I assumed were the Jamisons were on their knees digging in flower beds. “I’m sorry to bother you. I rang the bell and then heard your voices back here.”

  The man stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. He was tall and good looking with brown hair going gray. “That was me. I yelled at Shelley to toss me some tape to tie this vine up. Can I help you?”

  “I’m Alex Harris and this is my friend Annie. We were just over at your daughter’s apartment and she told us about her visit with Mr. Spiegel.”

  The Jamisons exchanged an odd look.

  “You know who I’m talking about?” I asked.

  “What exactly is your interest in our daughter?” an obviously cautious Mr. Jamison asked.

  I gave a quick glance to the ground where he had his gardening tools and didn’t see anything resembling a gun.

  Once again I told the entire story of how Sheldon Spiegel came to my office, how I had to identify his body, and how his wife showed up.

  “So, you really have no interest at all about the outcome,” Mrs. Jamison said. She was exactly as Christine described.

  “None at all. My only interest is why the man was killed. I don’t care about the DNA and who may or may not be the Spiegels’ biological child. My husband is also the detective on the case,” I quickly added because I had the feeling I was about to be asked to leave. “I’ve been helping him on this case, well, because of how Mr. Spiegel contacted me and then I identified him after they found his body. All I want to do is assure my assistant that Mr. Spiegel is not her father.”

  Shelley and Jeff Jamison looked at each other again, clearly trying to gauge whether they should talk with me, which meant that they probably had a story to tell and I wanted to hear it.

  Annie gave me an almost imperceptible smile. I hoped she was impressed with my deceiving skills rather than appalled at how easy it was for me to lie.

  “Your daughter told us that you never spoke with Mr. Spiegel.”

  Shelley stood up and brushed the dirt off her hands. “That’s not entirely true. He came here, shortly after talking with Christine. He tried to convince us that we needed to have a DNA test done. He said he was almost certain Christine was his daughter.”

  “I told him to get the hell out,” Jeff Jamison said, his face turning red with anger. “I told him if he didn’t leave I would call the police. The man was acting crazy. He finally left and that was that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Christine that you spoke with Mr. Spiegel?” I asked the Jamisons.

  Shelley heaved a big sigh. “Because we don’t want her to start asking questions. And then we saw on the news that he was murdered, so what was the point. Look,” she turned to her husband. “Ms. Harris found us and her husband is a police detective, which means he’s going to eventually turn up here. Maybe if we tell her everything,” she turned to me again. “Maybe, Ms. Harris, you can just tell your husband what we tell you and that will be it.”

  I knew for a fact it didn’t work that way. Whatever I told John, he would most certainly have to check out for himself right after he told Annie and me
to stay out of his investigation. But I wasn’t about to tell Shelley Jamison that.

  “Of course. I’d be happy to relay whatever information you have to my husband,” I said with a warm smile. “And please, call me Alex.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Annie and I followed the Jamisons into their modest home and settled in the living room on a worn, but very comfortable sofa covered in a floral slip cover.

  “Coffee? Tea?” Shelley asked.

  “I would love a tea,” I said. It was getting late and Annie and I still had not had any lunch.

  Annie smiled up at Mrs. Jamison. “Yes, tea for me also.”

  I asked to use the restroom and then joined Annie on the sofa while the Jamisons retreated to the kitchen. Annie turned to me.

  “Is it true that you can just give the police information and they take your word?” she asked in a low voice, tinged with awe.

  I shook my head. “No. I’m not telling John anything. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. The police will definitely show up here at some point, I just hope it’s not while we’re enjoying our tea. But sometimes you have to tell little white lies to get your foot in the door, so to speak.” At least that was the little white lie I told myself to justify telling little white lies to others.

  “You’re very good at this,” Annie said. “I feel like we’re making some progress, and that these people definitely have some information that might help us.”

  Shelley and Jeff Jamison came back into the room and placed our two tea mugs on the table along with a plate of coffee cake. Jeff went back to the kitchen and returned with mugs for Shelley and himself.

  “Help yourself. I just made it this morning. By the way, I’m Shelley, and my husband is Jeff.”

  I took a bite of cake, trying not to inhale it, as I was so hungry. Breakfast with Shirley seemed a long time ago. I put my plate down and looked at Shelley. “You seem to have some information about Mr. Spiegel. Why don’t you start at the beginning?”