“She never mentioned any names, but I gather her roommate usually picked her up.”
“Donna?”
“Yes, I believe that’s her name. She never came in and Elise never introduced her to me. Elise would sit on the couch, doing homework, and watch out the window. When the car came she would leave.”
“Did you see the car?”
“I caught a glimpse of it from time to time, but my eyesight isn’t that good so I couldn’t tell you what make it was, if that’s what you want to know.”
I had a delicate question. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but did Elise ever smoke marijuana here?”
Frank smiled. “The only drugs I allow in this house are the ones that keep me alive. I read that she had been smoking before she was killed so that isn’t a big shock to me.”
“Did you ever get the idea that she had been smoking it before she got here?”
“No. And I have children who were young in the sixties so I know the odor of pot well. It smells like burning rope. Elise was always on her best behavior with me.”
I refilled our cups from the china teapot and said, “Excuse me for asking all these questions, but you’re being very helpful. Do you mind if I ask a few more?”
“If it will help catch Elise’s killer. I’d rather talk to you than the police.”
Gallantry will win you points, I thought. In spite of his physical problems, Frank had a pleasant way about him. No wonder June and Elise liked him. “Do you know whether June knew that Elise was the Shooting Star?”
“Elise told me neither of her parents knew. And June never mentioned it to me. She usually confided in me so she probably would have said something if she had known.”
“So the night June picked Elise up here you were sworn to secrecy.”
“June told you about that, did she? I was wondering how you had learned about me. Yes, I didn’t like to keep secrets from June, but I also knew it was important that Eric not find out, if possible.”
“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but if Eric had found out about Elise being the Shooting Star, what do you think he would have done?”
“That question has haunted me. I keep forcing myself not to think about it.”
Chapter 28
I still didn’t know for sure who had given Elise a ride back to her apartment the night she was killed. She must have been picked up either in the parking lot at Club Cavalier, or nearby, since she hadn’t gone to Frank’s house.
I was convinced that Eric couldn’t have picked her up. How about Donna? Apparently, Donna was the designated picker-upper. That would help to explain how she knew as much as she did about Elise’s dancing. Of course, just the fact that she was Elise’s roommate explained that.
I had heard from Burt that Donna and her boyfriend disagreed as to when she had left him that evening. It was somewhere between 10 and 10:30 p.m., depending on which one you asked, but that range was wide enough to explain any number of scenarios. They also disagreed on when she had arrived at his place. He said it was later than she did. Burt had also said that “boyfriend” appeared to be too strong a word for their relationship. The guy had told the police they were just friends.
If Donna had driven Elise back to the apartment, Donna would have been there when Eric was there. She would have been there when Eric killed Elise. Why hadn’t Eric killed Donna at the same time? And if Donna had managed to escape, why hadn’t she told the police? Questions for which I had no answers.
Mark was still at work when I arrived back at my apartment so I called Wesley. Wesley had a computer and he was conversant with the Internet. He told me to come on over.
“Okay, what’s the URL of the website?” Wesley asked when we were seated in front of his computer.
“You mean the address?” I was beginning to catch on to the lingo. I produced the piece of paper on which I had carefully recorded the address of Eric’s infamous website.
Wesley typed it in and a screen appeared announcing the crusade against the destroyers of family values. The license numbers of the cars of the offending citizens, the ones who had visited Club Cavalier and other strip clubs in the Bethany area, were conveniently displayed by date.
Somebody had been maintaining the site since Elise’s death because the numbers collected on the day she was killed were posted. Apparently, Eric had found it in his heart to continue his good works.
I had also brought the license plate number of Donna’s car. I had written that down the first time I saw her car. We scanned the list for Club Cavalier on the date of Elise’s murder, but it wasn’t there. We did a search to see if it appeared anywhere in the database for any date. We came up empty.
“What is Mark’s license plate number?” Wesley asked.
The question surprised me. “Why do you ask?”
“Aren’t you even faintly curious as to whether he was at Club Cavalier on that particular evening?”
“I am completely convinced that he wasn’t, but I know his number.”
If I had said anything else I would have had to acknowledge that deep down inside me I had some nagging doubts about Mark’s innocence. And if I didn’t check for his license number now those doubts might not go away. I wouldn’t admit to Wesley that I had any trepidation about making the check, but I hesitated long enough so that he probably had a suspicion.
I had memorized Mark’s license plate number because he had been driving me around some of the time and I wanted to be able to locate his car when it was parked. My mathematical background helps me to memorize numbers, such as those on license plates. I memorize the letters on license plates by making unlikely acronyms out of them. For example, ZUP might stand for “zipped up pajamas.” I gave Mark’s license plate information to Wesley.
“Nope. It’s not there,” Wesley said, after a search.
“That’s good news,” I said, my tone understating my relief. But Eric and Ted had only recorded license plate numbers up to the time they went into Club Cavalier that evening. If either Donna or Mark or anybody else, for that matter, had showed up around 10 o’clock or later they wouldn’t have been recorded.”
“Perhaps you’ve done all you can on this murder,” Wesley said. “Maybe it’s time to rest and let the police handle it. You missed the bridge club again today. The chess club meets tomorrow afternoon. Maybe it’s time for you to get back into society.”
Wesley had taken a greater interest in my well-being since our friendship had deepened. I tended to agree with him. I had helped to dig up enough evidence to point the finger of suspicion away from Mark. What else could I do?
Back in my own apartment, I decided to take Wesley’s advice and put the murder behind me. What had I done in the afternoons back when I was living a normal life? Sometimes I took a short nap. I didn’t feel sleepy. I read magazines like Reader’s Digest. I picked up the latest copy, which I hadn’t looked at yet. Maybe it would have a heart-warming story about somebody who had survived a disaster by overcoming overwhelming odds.
I read some of the jokes and anecdotes because I couldn’t concentrate on anything longer. The stories in the “Life in these United States” section didn’t make me laugh. “Humor in Uniform” wasn’t humorous. I tossed the magazine aside and went looking for the poems I had copied from Donna’s personal notebook.
After a five-minute search I found the poems underneath a pile of papers on top of my small desk. I carried them to my sunroom and sat on the sofa, basking in the afternoon rays that streamed through the wall-to-wall windows on three sides. I read all the poems I had copied and then read them again. I came back to one and read it for a third time. It was one Tess and I had puzzled over before. It had no title-none of the poems had-and it went like this:
Will I shoot seven or eleven?
Will I find a jewel that gleams?
Will you lend your wand to me
