The Body on the Roof Page 19

  “I thought you might be interested to know just what is going on now with our investigations. Where we are on the case.”

  “I certainly would be.” Johnson picked up his knife and fork and went back to slicing his broasted chicken. “I appreciate you thinking of me. You must be quite busy.”

  Addams took a sip of his water. With two lemons, just the way he liked it. Marge never missed a thing.

  He lowered his voice so others in the room could not hear and leaned in closer. “As you know by now, Jeff has confessed to killing Grace Mathison, by accident. And then tried to cover it up, by making it look like he hadn’t been there. Not the right thing to do of course, but that’s what happened. So we’re dealing with that now.”

  Johnson shook his head. “Such a shame all the way around. So senseless.” He let out a low breath. “I’ve heard the stories about it being an accident, and I do know that Jeff would never have done anything to hurt Grace, but what exactly happened?”

  “He was at her house to rescue the cat, again. Afterward, as he was inside the house getting dry, he spotted a bowling trophy on her shelf. His bowling trophy, which he didn’t know he was missing. He had it in his hand and turned when she came rushing at him, apparently upset for touching her things. The trophy and her head just sort of collided. No intent. No malice, but she was dead.” Addams shook his head.

  Johnson reached into his pocket but came out with an empty hand, which he put to his mouth and sighed. “No purpose. No reason.”

  “Then Stephanie was attacked. Since Jeff had just confessed to her and has repeated his confession to us, we knew the attack didn’t have anything to do with Mrs. Mathison’s death.” Addams shrugged. “Could have turned out to be something totally unrelated, but the only thing we had to go on was her part of the investigation into the death, something that she had seen or done or said that was related not to the death, but to the investigation. And the only things she had done differently during those two days was, first, she had been in the house and, second, she had copied some papers from the safety deposit box.”

  He tapped the table with the spoon, not even realizing he was doing it. “So we started there. In searching the house and from information in the papers that Steph had copied from the bank we found the secret closet with the stolen merchandise from the garage and yard sales. And that led us to Harry Townsend. He has since confessed to the thefts, but continues to deny stabbing Stephanie. In fact, he said he had a note with her phone number on it, intending to call her later. We have found that note.”

  “He was going to call her? About what?” Johnson barely breathed.

  Addams paused for a moment. “Apparently he liked her. You’ll have to take that up with him. It’s just an indication that he had planned to talk with her later, which is inconsistent with trying to kill her sooner.

  “And we think we have found the knife used in the assault, in a trashcan on the far side of the green. And a handkerchief possibly used to wipe the knife in a different trashcan.” Johnson had been wiping his mouth with a napkin, but he quickly put it down. “Two different trashcans, on two different sides of the green.

  “At this point, we have not been able to tie either of them directly to Harry Townsend. He is our primary suspect, but the theft of minor objects that people were looking to get rid of anyway doesn’t seem enough of a motive for an attempted murder. Does it?”

  “Then surely Office Reasoner’s attack can have nothing to do with the thefts,” Johnson said. He appeared to have forgotten his meal. “It must have been something else. I can assure you Harry would have had nothing to do with trying to hurt her. Was there another case she was working on? Maybe something in her personal life, an old boyfriend?” There was a hopeful note in his voice.

  “It does seem to be that we were supposed to think it was something else. I believe that originally we were supposed to suspect it was the same person that attacked Grace.” Johnson nodded at that. “But the person who stabbed Stephanie didn’t know that we had already found that...had already got Jeff for that. No one did. Actually no one outside of Stephanie herself, but since Jeff confessed again immediately, it certainly was not an attempt to silence her.”

  Addams took another sip of water. He appeared to stare over Johnson’s right shoulder while thinking of what to say next. But he actually was looking at a booth across the room. George Peabody and the Skinner family were sitting in that booth, with Peabody and Tracy facing Addams. Peabody turned to Tracy. She nodded, and he passed the nod on to Addams.

  He continued in a low voice, tapping his spoon even more quickly. “It still could have been for something else, but then we found the knife and handkerchief. And Marie discovered something else, something that may have changed the motive. There weren’t just knick-knacks and worthless throwaways in that closet. Some of them were really very valuable. The jewelry and the books and the artwork. She called some of the owners. They had no idea any of it was worth anything. Some of the stuff had never even been reported as stolen. But somebody knew the value. And the crime scene team found quite a few tea boxes full of cash in Grace Mathison’s kitchen – over thirty-six thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money from clipping coupons. I think Grace not only knew about the stolen merchandise but knew it was valuable stuff.”

  Addams shook his head. “But I still don’t see her actually stealing the bigger items or knowing where to sell it. She seemed to be a collector, but only of small things, the things she could tell stories about.”

  Johnson put down his fork, but he hadn’t really eaten anything for a while. “Grace liked her stories. The only value her possessions had was for prompting those stories.”

  “We have a witness.” Addams took a deep breath. “Not of the attack, but a witness who saw several people throw things into the trashcan. And who saw someone come from across the green, from where the can with the knife was.”

  “Well, I assume several people could have thrown stuff away. That doesn’t mean anything.”

  Addams nodded. “As a matter of fact, the witness did see four people throw things in that can. We have discovered all four, three of them consistent with what they said.”

  Johnson picked up his check and started to move out of the booth. “I really hate to do this, but I have an appointment, Bud. I really want to hear what you have to say, but I’m running late as it is. Maybe we can meet tomorrow?”

  He stood up, appeared to notice George Peabody in the other booth for the first time, and Addams saw him also take note of two young men at the table closest to the door. No food in front of them. Marge and Cathy, the other waitress, were still waiting on tables, but “Mac” MacIntyre and Mike Wannamaker were standing near the door to the kitchen. The men were all looking at him. Johnson put down the check and sat back down. He started to reach into a coat pocket, but stopped halfway and picked up the napkin to wipe his brow.

  “The witness saw you coming back from the other side of the green, Mel, and toss something into the trashcan.” Addams breathed out, “Mel, what did you throw away?”

  “I... I don’t remember.”

  Addams nodded as if he expected that response.

  “You’re in the insurance business, Mel. Have been for years. You insure for life, death, home, personal possessions...pretty much everything, right, Mel?”

  Mel gave a quick nod. He picked up the napkin again and started to fold and refold it.

  “And you know the value of the personal possessions. Or at least know how to find out the value. And you might be the one to know where those types of possessions might be sold. That was one of the problems with both Harry and Grace. That knowledge. Harry has been with you for a little while now and has probably picked up a few things. But the records show that room was put in a long
time before Harry came to town, and it turns out that many of the more valuable items in that closet? Many of them were stolen before he was here too.”

  Addams shifted in his seat. Johnson just looked down at the table.

  “Steph went through the house and the safety deposit box with Harry Townsend. But they weren’t the only ones there. You were there also. You heard her say something about the size of that room.”

  “She said she wanted to come back and measure it.” Johnson spoke in a low voice, still looking at the table.

  “And you saw her take those documents from the safety deposit box. Once she looked through those papers, she would know why the room was smaller. And when that closet was added.

  “I notice you seem to be missing your handkerchief, Mel. It is well known that you prefer to carry a handkerchief to a tissue. I’m surprised you didn’t replace it, but I guess it was just habit not to do it yet. Or you just hadn’t gotten around to it, since the attack was only last night. We got a warrant to search your residence this afternoon, just within the past two hours as a matter of fact. We found a few other items with that stylized ‘JJ’ that was on the knife –- a pen set with personalized correspondence paper and a set of linen napkins. Your company name, Johnson and Johnson, wasn’t just to sound impressive. When you started, it was with your father. He was the original Johnson and you were added later. If we go to your office, we’ll probably find a few more things with those initials. We just haven’t gotten there yet.”

  Addams stopped talking. After a few moments, Johnson looked up, but he appeared to have aged ten years.

  He looked at the closer tables before speaking slowly, haltingly, and little more than above a whisper. Addams had to cock his head to make sure he heard all the words. “Several years ago, well, more than a few anyway, Ralph Mathison and I went to a yard sale with our wives. I think it was the Hufnagels’ sale, people who bought what they liked but with no sense of style or value. They had their insurance through me, and, once I saw what they were selling, I realized they had no idea what anything was worth. There were a couple of pieces of jewelry and a painting. I’m no art expert, but it looked like an original SanGennaro. You may or may not know that those are worth something. I bought the painting for about ten bucks – I think they were really selling the frame, and I slipped a piece of the jewelry into my pocket. Just did it without really thinking about it. I had it in my hand and turned to look at something else. Ralph saw me do that, looked around, then he took a bracelet and put it in his pocket. Then he grinned as if he was getting away with something. Well, we both got away with something. I had sold some things I inherited from a great-aunt to this second-hand place in Oldstown. I don’t think he regards himself as a fence, he just doesn’t ask any questions. So I took those pieces to him, both the art and the necklace, and Ralph’s bracelet. He gave me three thousand dollars for them, two thousand for the painting and five hundred each for the jewelry. On an investment of ten dollars.

  “There were more sales the next weekend. I had policies on several of those families. I checked them and realized there were no significant valuables listed, just the home and general contents. But one of the sales had three rare books and a small antique end table that should definitely have been insured.”

  “Why didn’t you just pay the low price for them?”

  Marge started to approach the table, but Peabody called her before she got too close and she went over to where he was sitting.

  Both the men had stopped talking briefly while she was near. Johnson grimaced and squirmed in his seat. “Looking back, we should have. At the time, it was sort of exciting. We discovered that if we didn’t actually buy anything, nobody remembered us being there at all. Grace would usually talk with the owners to keep them busy, my wife never knew any of this. If somebody did start talking with us, then we’d buy something small or pay the marked price. If nobody did, we just walked off. If anyone else at the sale saw us, they just assumed we had already paid for it. We also didn’t want to get a reputation for underpaying for an item, then making a fortune reselling it and somebody might ask us later what we had done with that old painting of Aunt Martha’s.” He shrugged. “It was just easier not to pay for it in the first place. And nobody seemed to really care.” Johnson sort of half-smiled. “And we were getting kind of a rush out of it, kind of a thrill, a shock of adrenalin. Even if something was reported as stolen, as not accounted for in their sales, there was never much of an investigation because they simply weren’t regarded as being worth much. I only had one or two insurance claims and then only for very small amounts.”

  “What about all the knick-knacks?”

  “Ralph got those as gifts for Grace. He’d just pick up miscellaneous boxes. I think she realized he might not have paid for all of them, but that just added to the mystery for her, made the stories more exciting – as if they were part of a secret treasure.”

  “And when did the spare room come into being?”

  “At first we just put them in the Mathison garage, but that was too visible, and Grace wouldn’t have accepted us having those out in plain sight. So Ralph had the secret closet added. Grace never went in that room.

  “And Ralph was the one that first used the tea boxes to store the cash. He never really did it for the money. It was the excitement of not getting caught. We both figured no one was getting hurt – they were just getting rid of these things as junk anyway. The money was for Grace after he died, but I don’t think she ever counted it. Maybe took out a twenty every once in a while. I kept putting her share in there, but I don’t think she even noticed.”

  Johnson took a sip from his water glass. He had been talking for some time, as if he had been feeling the need to tell somebody. Finally.

  When he spoke again, his voice was a little bit stronger. “After Ralph died, we stopped doing anything for a while. But then Harry had to leave his job and came to Summerfield. I knew why he left, and it seemed natural to use him for the lawn sales. He seemed to get a kick out of it.”

  Addams stirred and wished he had gotten something stronger to drink. Maybe with three or four lemons.

  “So why the attack on Stephanie? As Harry said, what you stole didn’t seem worth it.”

  “Over the years there was quite a bit more money than Harry knew about. We’d have gotten in serious trouble for taxes over it.” Johnson grimaced. “I’ll get in trouble over the taxes. It’s a bigger deal than the petty larceny that Harry figures it is.”

  He looked into space for a moment, then sighed deeply. With years of regret behind it.

  “And there’s my reputation in this town. I’m considered somebody here. Somebody of importance.” He brought his eyes back to Addams’ face. “You’re right. I heard Stephanie say she was going to come back and measure the room. I saw her make copies of the documents at the bank. I knew she was wondering what the heck Grace was doing with so much money. In tea boxes, for Christ’s sake. She was going to find the room, and it was going to come back to me, and everyone in town was going to know I was a thief.” His voice had been getting louder, but Johnson started and looked around quickly. Nobody nearby appeared to be paying attention.

  He resumed speaking more quietly. “I’ve been here too long, I’ve done too much. The knife is something I carry out of habit when I go home and when I come to work in the morning. I don’t really know why, my father gave it to me when I first started here, and I carry it in case I’m carrying money, but I’ve never even taken it out before. I keep it in a sheath that hooks down inside of my pants. Nobody else even knew I had it. That night, as I left the office, I just happened to see Stephanie come around the corner of the bandstand and no one else was out on the sidewalks yet. I just did it.” He held his hands up. “I just...did it.”

  He looked at his han
ds hanging in the air as if he couldn’t believe what they had done. Addams didn’t say anything. Johnson clenched his hands into fists and slowly lowered them to the table.

  “It was an impulse – without really thinking. Just like taking the yard sale stuff in the first place.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Only two really impulsive things I’ve done in my life.” He shifted in his seat. “I guess I thought people would just assume it was the same person that had killed Grace. I knew that wasn’t Harry or me, so I figured no suspicion would fall on us. I had no way of knowing that case was already solved. I ran across to the other side of the green and got rid of the knife as soon as I could, just to get it out of my hands. I wiped it with my handkerchief, the only thing I had, but I saw people gathering and thought I should hurry back and act like I had just come out of my office. But nobody paid any real attention to me, and I finished wiping any blood off my hands and just dropped the handkerchief into that other trashcan, the one closer to the office. I wanted to get that blood away from me.”

  Both of them just looked down at the table for several minutes.

  “So this,” Addams finally spoke again. “All of this – the covering up of Mrs. Mathison’s death, the attack on Stephanie – has been about reputation, keeping the good name that had been established in this town. Jeff didn’t want the townsfolk to think of him as a police chief who accidentally killed people, and you didn’t want them realizing you were stealing from them. That you were actually taking advantage of the people that were looking up to you.”

  Addams sat for a few minutes more, then waved for Peabody to come over. Peabody finished chewing his last bite of chocolate pecan pie then reluctantly pushed the rest of it in front of Tracy. He stood and walked over to the table. The Gettys stood but stayed where they were, in front of the door.