Deadly Compromises by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 24
Overeager to meet a fellow compatriot, McKenna drove 20
miles over the speed limit to East Ella and screeched into the driveway of the first house. His short legs worked double time to get his stubby body to the front door. He rang the bell and Mabel answered expeditiously. Glad for the company, which didn’t require her pursuit, she graciously said; “Good morning.”
His rapid reply did not indicate any endings of sentences and sounded like; “Goo mornin’ I’m William McKenn’, an ‘surance
‘vestigator.”
Mabel nervously replied; “I haven’t filed any claims, but I know someone who has, somewhat creatively.”
William managed to contain his excitement and clearly said;
“I’m merely investigating the murder of Alan Simburg.”
“You probably want my husband. He’s at the police station now.”
“I plan to see him a little later. But I’d like to talk with you for five minutes first. May I come in?”
“Sure.” She led him to a seat in the dining room. “Can I get you anything?”
He couldn’t help but take note of the views from the room.
There were four floor to ceiling windows, two each on two sides of the room. One set faced the main road and provided excellent potential vehicular surveillance. The table with four chairs, on the other hand, conveyed nothing. The set could be best described as “contemporary,” as it evoked elements of modernism, discount store “colonial” motifs and an efficient polyurethane glossy finish, which produced a light stain on the wood itself, with the majority sitting in protective shiny puddles above it.
The breakfront, seemingly of similar origin, held plain off white cups, saucers and dishes. A few tiny, painted ceramics of overly cute cartoonish dogs and cats were interspersed, along with two other small stamped figurines of an unreal boy and girl, with eyes covering one-third of their head and perpetual smiles covering another third. The room was open to a small kitchen dominated by clear, stained, unhandled cabinets. There were no windows, with only minimal light coming in through a small ceiling skylight. None of the culinary utensils seemed out of place, perhaps because their accumulated dust suggested a lack of recent use. Overall, it was hidden, unused and unclean, though properly surface configured, by way of Transylvania.
He answered; “No, thanks. I’ve had a few coffees already.
I’m just trying to touch base with some of the people who might have useful information. Did you see anything out of the ordinary around the time of the murder?”
With her well-practiced penchant for communicating all of her observations, whether specifically asked or not, she volunteered; “Not around the murder date. But a few months later I saw Kelly walking with a man down by the river. I thought that was a strange coincidence.”
“What did he look like?”
“Average. I told my husband about it. I don’t remember all the particulars, but it’s in a report at the police station.
They didn’t seem to take it very seriously. That Kelly is always with guys. It’s shameful.”
In a surprised tone, McKenna asked; “So this isn’t unusual behavior for her?”
“You’re beginning to sound like my husband. No, it’s not unusual, but it is very strange timing. She was younger than Alan and they were only married about five years.”
Gathering her speculative inference McKenna asked; “Has she got a lot of male friends?”
With wide-eyed shock Mabel said; “Yes, some even live in the area.”
“That was palatable with Alan?”
“I don't know, but I can’t understand how. It must have been as it’s been going on for a long time. But, there were no domestic violence reports that I know of.”
“Did he have female friends?”
“I don't know of any. Maybe if they put Dolly Madison on hundred dollar bills. I think he was more interested in business.”
Standing up, McKenna said; “Thanks very much. I’ll be off to police headquarters now.”
In an effort to continue the conversation she relished, Mabel said; “I just know that Kelly was involved. She hasn’t got any morals. The town would be better off if she was in jail, where she belongs.”
Believing that he had already obtained all the useful information available from Mabel McKenna exited. While driving he thought to himself; “If there were anything concrete to pin on Kelly, Mabel would know about it. Still, maybe Kelly has been a few steps ahead of everyone. At least until now.”
Upon entering the police station, he saw Sheriff Mack alone in his office. He knocked twice and entered, unencouraged.
“Good morning, Sheriff. My name is William McKenna and I’m an insurance investigator.”
“Have a seat.”
“I’m investigating the Simburg murder.”
“You’re a little late, aren’t you?”
“Well, I was hoping that if I gave you guys enough time you would find the murderer and make my job easy.”
They both forced smiles.
Sheriff Mack aggressively said, “It very clearly seems to be a mob hit. The state guys who specialize in that stuff can’t come up with anything more than that, either.”
“Did anyone look into the guy sighted with Kelly?”
Mack momentarily drew a blank, then said; “Oh, Mabel,” and laughed. “Mabel has seen Kelly with a lot of guys, including some who probably only exist in Mabel’s mind.”
“So your investigation of the stranger turned up nothing?”
Defensively, Mack retorted; “We did our due diligence and pursued Mabel’s report, but nothing of any use turned up.”
Hoping to put an end to the questioning he considered impertinent, especially coming from a bogus cop, he said; “It’s in the file. I guess you’d like to take a look at that.”
“I would appreciate that.”
The Sheriff retrieved it and carried it to an interrogation room, leading McKenna. “Take all the time you need. You know where I am if you have any questions.”
McKenna sat down and spread the papers and tapes out on the desk. He listened to the interviews with Kelly and others. He wasn’t impressed with the seeming nonchalance, perhaps arrogance he detected. In fact, what he saw as smart-ass contentiousness annoyed him. He read of the two bullet holes found in the ceiling, not usually consistent with a mob hit. He made copies of the contents and put them in his dossier. To further his knowledge of Kelly he decided to ask the Sheriff a few questions about her. McKenna returned the file to the Sheriff, who was seated in his office. He, unceremoniously dropped it on the desk and said; “Sheriff, if I can have a few minutes...?”
Mack, again forced a tight smile and deadpanned; “Shoot,”
momentarily enjoying his impromptu witticism vis-à-vis the lack of weaponry entrusted to insurance dicks.
Oblivious to, or un-amused by Mack’s repartee, McKenna said; “Kelly doesn’t seem to be broken hearted because of the murder, does she?”
“Ah, frankly, no. That has bothered me and some others.”
“Is there a tail on her?”
“There was for about a week. The only place she went during that time was to visit a very old friend named George, who lives here in town. Her house was roped off as a crime scene and I guess she had to go somewhere. It’s cold outside, if you haven’t noticed.”
With no interest in any sidetracks, the little bulldog continued on his pursuit and said; “Did you talk to George?”
“No. He’s lived here a long time, has never been arrested for anything and he’s one of the last people you’d expect to kill anyone.”
“Romantic with Kelly?”
Mack snorted and said; “I really don’t know or care.
That’s Mabel’s department. Maybe years ago. I think he’s just one of her friends.”
“Does she have a lot of friends?”
“Not that many. There are four or five she’s sometimes seen with. They all moved here in the early 1970s. They had some kind of commune for a while and when that broke up, they must have liked it here. They all have had their own places for quite a while.”
“Did you grill her hard?”
“Well, you can make your own judgment on that if you listen to the tapes. I think it was pretty hard, but she handled it well. She seemed cooperative and answered all our questions. I appreciated that because she could have said nothing and gotten a lawyer to make statements for her.”
“Can you tell me anything else about her?”
“Sure, but why? She’s always been an unconventional free spirit, but not one likely to kill.”
“Her alibi is weak. All this un-noticed driving around and walking at the river.”
“I’d like to have heard a better alibi, too, but it’s consistent with past behavior.”
“I don't know. I’m just not completely comfortable with her. If someone killed my wife, even if I was sick of her, I think I’d be more emotional.”
“Maybe she is and just doesn’t want to display it. She’s got a lot of business to take care of now. She’s got to decide what to do with the businesses Simburg owned; whether to keep them open, how to pay the employees, how to get some control of the situation, whether to sell them, on and on.”
“You’re probably right, but my bosses are about to pay out five million dollars and they don’t want me to miss touching all the bases.”
“I know what you mean. I wish I had more leads, as whoever runs against me in the next election will undoubtedly try to make hay on the unsolved murder during my watch.”
“Good luck on that one. I’d still like to speak with Kelly myself. Do you think it would be all right if I just drove out there?”
“It’s probably all right. Like I said, she’s been as cooperative as we have required so far.”
“Thanks.” McKenna left and drove back to the motel. He sat and perused all his papers. Kelly seemed to him a competent, composed opponent. Though it didn’t appear to be an easy task, if he could find some evidence implicating her his company could, at least, delay payment of the claim, until everything was decided in court. It didn’t seem likely that she would confess, but, if found guilty his employers would be off the hook and quite happy with him. In addition, McKenna just plain didn’t like her. She seemed to be everything he hated.