The Fruitcake Murders. Ace Collins
key ring was in his pocket,” Lane smugly replied.
“They could have taken the one they needed,” she said, rubbing her arms in an effort to stay warm. “I mean, that’s what a smart person would do. Did you check to see if all the keys were there? Or did you bother finding out if anyone else had a key to those doors?”
He disregarded the woman’s observation and instead moved toward the place where the man had seemingly shuffled on his feet. “You’ll note,” he continued, “the evening snow has partially filled the impressions. Therefore, we won’t be able to gauge the kind of shoe the man was wearing, but we can probably get an idea of the size. Just looking at it compared to mine, I’d say he is somewhere between an eight and nine.” As he continued to stare at the spot where a majority of the impressions were, he rubbed his chin and asked, “Why did he stop here? Even if this were the moment when the maid came into the room, she wouldn’t have been able to spot him no matter where he was on the patio. So her appearance shouldn’t have caused him to pause.”
“And why was he on his tiptoes?” Tiffany asked.
“Why indeed?”
“And,” the woman added, “maybe this is the guy who knifed Elrod rather than the one who actually killed him.”
“That’s bound to be a crime, too,” Lane grumbled. Looking up from where the suspect had paused, he studied the house. There were no windows to peek in, nothing to grab or reach, so why would anyone have gotten up on his tiptoes? “Tiff, it just makes no sense. There’s nothing he could have seen by making himself a few inches taller.”
“You’re thinking just like a man,” the woman grumbled while moving over to join him. “There are two reasons to be on your tiptoes. The first is to reach something high or see a bit further, but the other is when you hunker down. He might have been in a crouching position.” She demonstrated by stooping over. As she balanced on the balls of her feet, her heels came off the ground.
Lane nodded, then mimicked the woman’s stance and position. Not only was she right about his heels coming off the ground, but he found he now had a completely different view of the world. He could even see under the bushes. Yet, shining his flashlight in that direction revealed nothing unusual underneath the evergreens.
“Look at that, Copper.”
His eyes darted to where the woman’s hand was pointing. Just behind the nearest bush was a basement window. The snow on the frame had been disturbed. Moving to the spot, Lane leaned forward until his arm was fully extended and he pushed on the window’s wooden frame. It moved easily. Dropping to his knees in the cold snow, he shoved the glass open. Shining his light into the basement he saw a hundred different items that had, at one time or another, been relegated to storage. Among these castoffs were furniture, three old steamer trunks, stacks of books, an ancient pedal car, a high-wheeled baby buggy and two bicycles, but there was something else resting on an old mattress just below the window that really caught his eye.
Springing to his feet, he rushed back across the patio, through the office and to the telephone. After taking the receiver from the cradle, he dialed a number he knew well. On the third ring, Morelli picked up.
“Morgue.”
“Doc, this is Walker, I think I’ve got something.”
“You found our murder weapon?”
“Maybe,” he replied, “could the damage you discovered on Elrod’s skull have been made by a fruitcake?”
“What?”
“You know one of those round, foot-wide, four-inch tall tins that are filled with the stuff nobody eats.”
“I hadn’t expected that,” Morelli answered, his voice indicating mild shock.
“There’s a fruitcake can in the basement,” Lane explained. “I saw it from a window. Now I haven’t gone down there and picked it up yet, but I’ve got a hunch somebody recently ditched it through an unlocked outside window. It’s not nearly as dusty as everything else that is stored down there. In fact, it shines like it just came off a store shelf.”
The line went silent for a few seconds before the ME came back on. “Yeah. When the cake is in the tins those things are pretty heavy and, if Elrod had passed out due to the drugs in his system and wasn’t offering any resistance, that container could be swung with a lot of force, too. Did the can you saw have green and red stripes on the side and a Christmas tree painted on the front?”
“Not sure about the tree,” Walker replied, “but I remember it had stripes like you described. Those were real obvious.”
“Then I believe I know that fruitcake,” Morelli offered. “If it’s the one I think it is, it’s part of a joke between Ethan Elrod and Ben Jacobs.”
“The federal judge?”
“Yep. They’ve been trading that old cake back and forth each Christmas for more than a dozen years. Everyone who knows them has seen that old can. I’ve seen it a half dozen times myself. And that sucker is made of really thick tin, so it could well have created the damage I observed.”
“So,” Lane chimed in, “murder by fruitcake.”
“And not just any fruitcake,” Morelli wryly noted, “but one that was first purchased by Ben Jacobs long before he was a federal judge. At least, I assumed he bought it. So we’re talking about an antique fruitcake.”
“I’ll get the cake tin,” Walker assured the examiner, “and when the boys get here to reexamine the scene, I’ll bring it to you to look over.”
“Thanks, I’ll be waiting. Good work, Lane.”
The investigator had all but forgotten he wasn’t alone until he placed the receiver back in the cradle.
“So, Lane,” Tiffany announced, “you’ve established two things.”
“What’s that?” he asked as their eyes met, and he was again forced to realize how intoxicatingly beautiful she really was.
“The first is, you’ve finally discovered a purpose for a fruitcake. The second is this was not a murder to cover a robbery because no one would steal a fruitcake. Now all you have to do is find the fruitcake that used the fruitcake to murder the crusading district attorney. That really makes this case nuts!”
Lane was contemplating a verbal comeback to her lame pun when the phone rang. Thus, as he was drawing blanks in trying to come up with a witty and biting reply, he was literally saved by the bell.
Chapter 4
4
Wednesday, December 18, 1946
10:58 p.m.
Grabbing the receiver on the second ring, Lane pulled it to his ear and barked, “Hello.”
“Okay, Elrod, this is the payoff. Have your representative bring the woman with the cash to 1014 Elmwood at 1:15 tonight. Don’t be a minute late or a second early. Come to the front door. I’ll have what you are looking for there. If you mess this up, then kiss your representative good-bye. Got that?”
The cop considered what he’d heard but didn’t answer. Looking to Tiffany, he shrugged.
“Did you get that?” the male voice on the line demanded for the second time.
“1014 Elmwood,” the cop assured him.
“And the time?”
“1:15.”
“You’re putting your life on the line, Elrod,” the man warned, “but I’m risking even more than you.”
“And you’ve got everything I need?” Lane demanded.
“Everything,” came the quick explanation, “Just make sure you’ve got the girl and the money. That blonde’s testimony could lock someone up for a long