The Grantville Gazette Volumn II Read online

  Old man Cooper finally came out of the mobile home. "All right, what's so important that you have to drag an old man out of bed? I'm not a well man, you know. This better be important." Jurgen could believe Cooper was not a well man. He could hear him wheezing from ten feet away.

  "Mr. Cooper, G. C., this isn't easy to say but Young Tommy was found dead this morning. It looks like someone killed him."

  "What! Someone murdered my boy?" The older Cooper sat down heavily on the steps. But Jurgen noticed that G.C. didn't seem as shocked as his father.

  The old man let out a couple of inarticulate gasps. Then he started yelling. "Gladys! Gladys, come here! Somebody's killed our boy!"

  From the back door of the house an older woman came running, followed by a middle-aged woman.

  Tipton leaned over and whispered: "Gladys and Connie Cooper. Old Tommy's wife and G.C.'s wife."

  After what seemed like an hour of wailing and inarticulate muttering, the two older Coopers went into the mobile home.

  "Okay, Marvin," muttered G.C., "it looks like I'm the one stuck with making arrangements. Where's my brother?"

  "He's down at the medical center and you can have whoever is doing the funeral pick up the body. You don't have to go identify him. We positively identified him. Hell, I've known Tommy seems like my whole life."

  "Who killed him?"

  "That's what we're trying to find out, G. C. Do you know where he was last night?"

  "Yeah, he was down at the Club. In fact he was supposed to walk Connie home, but he took off. I got hung up at the garage and asked him to get her."

  Tipton turned to look at Cooper's wife. "That right, Connie?"

  "That's right," the woman answered. Jurgen noticed that she was looking at her husband, not at Tipton as she talked. "I was working till twelve and Tommy was supposed to walk me home, but around eleven I noticed he was gone. So I called G. C. at the garage."

  "And you went over and got her?" When G. C. nodded, Tipton continued. "What time was that, G. C.?"

  "Oh, it was about twelve, twelve-fifteen. They were just closing when I got there. Connie was waiting outside so I didn't go in."

  "If you didn't go in, I guess you don't know who was there."

  "Well, I saw Wilda Bates and her daughter Marlene leaving and I saw Ape Hart walking with them, but I doubt if they saw me."

  "Connie, who all was in the Club 250 last night?"

  "I can't really say. I was in the kitchen most of the night. Ken, you know Ken Beasley, got a mess of venison steaks and I spent most of the night cooking instead of waiting tables. Then when I came out of the kitchen about eleven, I noticed Tommy was gone and I called G. C."

  "If you're thinking someone from the Club killed him you're way off base. Forget it." G. C. glanced at Jurgen. "Using a knife sounds like a kraut to me."

  "Why, G.C.? Has Tommy had any run-ins with some of our German citizens lately? We did hear something about a tractor."

  "Tractor? Yeah, me and Tommy sold a tractor to that kraut that rents from Ted Moritz. Neubert is his name, I think. He wasn't happy with the deal. He even got Freddy Genucci to threaten to sue us. Is that about all you want to know? I got to make some calls. Got to find someone to do the funeral. No way I want that Genucci touching my brother."

  "One last question." Tipton raised his hand to stop Cooper from walking off. "When you brought Connie home, did you notice anything as you walked by the end of Happy Hills? What would that have been, about twelve-thirty or one o'clock?"

  G.C. seemed to think a bit. "No, we didn't see anything odd, and it was closer to one than twelve-thirty. If that's all, I really have to make those calls."

  "Yeah, G.C. that just about does it. If we need anything else, we'll get in touch with you. Call the station if you think of anything new."

  As the two policemen walked back to their car Tipton asked, "Well, what do you think?"

  "Marvin, did you notice that when the wife was answering she was always looking at her husband?"

  "Caught that, did you? It was almost like she was checking with him to see if her story was right. Of course the thing that made me wonder was how G.C. knew Tommy was killed with a knife. I never told him how Tommy was killed, and I doubt Freddy Genucci called him. Makes you wonder, doesn't it."

  As they got to the car Jurgen looked across the top and asked, "Were you really friends with them? They seem to dislike you now."

  Tipton gave a little laugh. "Yeah, Tommy and me were pretty close, but we were kids then. Our friendship ended when I put on this uniform. His choice, not mine. Sometimes that happens. You better get ready. It can happen to you. Wait and see when you have to arrest someone who's a friend."

  As they started to pull out of the Coopers' drive, a school bus stopped across the end of the driveway and unloaded the younger Cooper children and the Craigs who lived on the other side of the road. As they waited for the school bus to pass, Tipton looked at his watch. "That's the two-thirty bus. Henry Johnson should be on that bus, on his way home from the Middle School. We might as well follow it to the Johnson place and talk to him now."

  "Ja, since he lives so close to the Coopers it is a good possibility he does their reloading."

  * * *

  When the bus stopped in front of the Johnson drive they were proven right when they saw Henry and the four Schultz and Ekhard children get off and head up the drive.

  "Henry! Henry Johnson!" Tipton yelled as they pulled into the drive. "Can we talk to you?"

  They saw Johnson stop and wave to them. "Hi, Marvin. Come on up to the house. I bet I can find you and your partner something cold to drink."

  As they followed Johnson up the drive, Jurgen noticed the bulge under his coat. That had to be a pistol, he thought. Thinking about it some more, he was not surprised. Johnson was one of only three male teachers at the middle school and since the raid, people had realized the schools were major targets for the enemies of Grantville.

  Soon the three were seated in the Johnson living room with glasses of iced coffee in their hands. Tipton and Jurgen had followed Johnson's lead and hung their gun belts on the hooks by the front door. Tipton sipped his coffee and then asked, "Henry have you met my partner, Jurgen Neubert."

  "Can't say that I have." Johnson extended his hand. "Good to meet you, Officer Neubert. Now I doubt this is a social call, so what can I do for you?"

  "Henry, we're trying to get a line on Young Tommy Cooper's pistol and thought he might have come to you for reloaded ammo."

  Johnson chuckled, "What's Tommy done now? And, yes, I know his gun, if you're talking about the Smith .32-20 Hand Ejector."

  "As far as we know Tommy didn't do anything but get himself killed. His pistol is missing and we're trying to track it down."

  "We thought you might know if anyone else had a revolver in that caliber," Jurgen interjected. "And could tell us if anyone tried to buy cartridges to fit it."

  "Tommy got himself killed," Johnson mused. "Can't say I'm surprised or too broken up about it. I don't have a lot of use for the whole family, frankly. Oh, I do business with them, but I keep a sharp eye on them. To answer your questions, I reloaded eighteen rounds for Young Tommy a couple of weeks ago. All the cases he had. I can do a lot when it comes to reloading, but I don't make cases for a .32-20, it's a bit of an oddball. And as far as I know there are only two other .32-20s in town, both rifles. You should check with Paul Santee, he does a lot of the rarer cartridges, but I would bet that three .32-20s are all you'll find."

  "Herr Johnson, if you could see a bullet could you tell us if it was one of the ones you reloaded for Cooper?" Jurgen asked.

  "You're talking about a fired bullet? Maybe, if it's not too damaged, but I loaded soft lead round noses for Tommy. If it hit something hard it's going to have flattened out quite a bit."

  "It's in a tree," Tipton said. "When we dig it out, we'll bring it out to show you."

  Johnson thought a minute, "I doubt I can tell much. But you might weigh the bullet. Most
.32s use a ninety or ninety-five grain bullet. A .32-20 on the other hand uses a hundred and ten grain bullet. I don't know if that's any help, though."

  "Thank you, Herr Johnson, that might help."

  "It's nothing. I am happy to help."

  "No, really, Henry," Tipton said, "this really helps out. I have one more favor to ask though. Can I use your phone to call the office? I want to check and see if any word has come in on the autopsy, and I don't want to use the radio."

  "Sure, it's over there by the stairs, right next to the scanner." He chuckled. "I listen in on your radio traffic myself, so I can understand why you don't want to use the radio. I'll just step out on the porch and let you have some privacy."

  * * *

  While Tipton made his call, Jurgen and Henry stood on the porch and talked. "Officer Neubert, how do you like living in Grantville? Must be quite a change for you."

  "Ja, Herr Johnson. To you Grantville is just a small town, but compared to my village it is a city."

  Henry chuckled. "Actually, I know what you mean. I worked in country schools all my life, before I moved back to Grantville, and it seemed big to me when I came home."

  Just then Officer Tipton came out of the house. "Henry, we have to run, and thanks again for the information. By the way, we would appreciate it if you kept our talk under your hat."

  "No problem, Marvin. As far as I'm concerned it's all on the square." Jurgen saw Johnson make a sign with his hands.

  "Thanks, Henry," Tipton responded. Jurgen noticed he also made a sign.

  As the two walked to the car Jurgen asked, "Marvin, you may not want to answer this, but what was that hand sign Herr Johnson gave you?"

  "No problem, Jurgen. Henry and me are both Masons. He was telling me he wouldn't tell anyone what we talked about until I said it was okay. If you're interested, I'll give you a pamphlet about it when we get back to the station."

  Once they were in the car, Tipton turned to Jurgen, "Well, partner, we screwed up. They did a quick autopsy on Young Tommy and he was stabbed twice. We missed the wound to his chest."

  "What?"

  "Yep, he was stabbed in the chest. It nicked the heart, but didn't kill him until a few minutes later. He could have walked to the Genucci's place. The throat was cut after he died. Maybe an hour or two after he died."

  "What now, Marvin?"

  "We'll stop by the office and tell Chief Frost what we have. And I want to pick up a handi-talkie before we go to the Club 250. We'll see what Tommy was doing last night. I bet that's what got him killed, not his troubles with your cousin Jost."

  * * *

  After stopping the car in the parking lot of the Club 250, Tipton turned to Jurgen. "Watch your back in here. I don't think any of these yahoos are stupid enough to try anything, but you never know with mean drunks. Clip the handi-talkie to your belt and be ready to call for backup."

  Jurgen picked up the little radio and clipped it on his belt. It still amazed him that he could talk into this little box and Emil could hear him back at the station. The Americans had marvelous tools.

  Walking into the Club 250, Jurgen could feel every eye in the place staring at him and Tipton. No so much, he thought, because he was German, but because of the uniforms they wore. Tipton led him toward a table set near the end of the bar. At the table was seated a man who appeared to be working on records and accounts.

  "Hi, Ken. We need to talk with you and some of your employees and probably some of your customers."

  "Why should I want to talk to you, Marvin? Prancing in here with your pet German. Have you taught him to do any tricks yet? Bet you could teach him to fetch real easy." Jurgen noticed that Ken, whoever he was, had said that loud enough for the small crowd in the bar to hear. A number of them laughed and seemed to be inching closer.

  Tipton looked around the room and said in a loud voice, "I guess I forgot to introduce Officer Neubert. He is about two seconds away from calling an ambulance for everyone we don't arrest. I'll try to hold him back, but he is determined to get some answers or put two or three of you rednecks in the medical center and the rest in jail."

  Jurgen could sense the crowd studying him. Returning the stares of the people, Jurgen picked out the man he was going to hit first. Drop the biggest one in the place first and maybe the rest will back off.

  "Of course, you could just answer our questions. Then all you have to deal with is me. And you all know I am just sweetness and light to talk to."

  "Hell, Marvin," the big man Jurgen had picked out said with a slight laugh. "Last time I talked to you, I got thirteen stitches and two days in the county lockup. I'd rather drink." With that, he looked away and concentrated on the drink in front of him.

  The rest of the customers followed the big man's lead. Though Jurgen could sense they were still watching.

  Tipton gave a snort of disgust and turned back to the man at the table. "Jurgen, this is Ken Beasley. He owns this outhouse. He is the person you want to question first. If he doesn't want to talk to you, we can just shut this place down for a couple of days. A health inspection will do it easily." With that, Tipton leaned against the wall behind Jurgen and seemed to be watching the few couples who had returned to the small crowded dance floor.

  "Herr Beasley, we are investigating the death of Young Tommy Cooper."

  "Yeah, yeah, his dad called here about an hour ago and told Fenton. Funny, Tommy gets killed by a kraut and you start harassing his friends."

  "We don't know who killed him yet. It might have been a German or it might have been someone he knew from here. I am sure you want us to find the real killer. We were told Tommy was here last night. Is that right?"

  "Yeah, Tommy is in every night. Last night was a Thursday so he was supposed to walk Connie home. Can't say I saw him leave with her, though. In fact I didn't see him leave at all."

  "You were working the bar last night?"

  "Nah, Fenton was handling drink orders. We weren't very busy after eight so I caught up on my paperwork. One thing, though—Tommy paid off the bar tab he had been running for a couple of months. Paid it in silver."

  "Did you see who he was drinking with? Who he spent most of the night with?"

  "Didn't you hear me? I said I was working on the books. One time early in the evening he got in a yelling match with Ape but it was nothing big. They went on drinking together afterwards."

  "Who is Ape?"

  Beasley pointed to the big man Jurgen had noticed earlier.

  "One last question and we are done, for now. Was Tommy carrying a gun last night?"

  "I guess so. Tommy was always packing. He had an old Smith and Wesson revolver he carried. He probably had it last night, but I wouldn't swear to it."

  "Thank you, Herr Beasley. You have been helpful. Now, I need to talk to Fenton. Is that him working behind the bar now?"

  "Yes, Fenton Mase. Hey, Fenton! Come and talk to this cop. I'll take over for you." Beasley got up from the table.

  Jurgen watched Mase walk over to the table and sit across from him. Mase was an average sized man, but walked with all the confidence of a born fighter. Jurgen thought Mase had probably been hired to keep order in the bar as much as to sell drinks. He realized that of all the customers and staff, Mase was the only completely sober one in the Club. And he also seemed to be relaxed about talking to the police.

  "Herr Mase, I want to know about Tommy Cooper and what happened when he was in here last night. What can you tell me?"

  "Not much. He came in about five o'clock and had dinner. I served him a couple of beers at the bar and then he started talking to Freddie Congden. They moved over to a table and started playing cards with Ape and Monkey Hart. So Brandy, she was waiting tables last night, served them the rest of the night."

  "Did you see what time he left, and who he left with?"

  "There you got me. I didn't see him leave. I think he was there till closing and left with Connie, but I can't swear to it. Things get busy about closing time. There's always somebody
who wants one last beer. This is a beer crowd, but they drink a lot of it."

  "Oh," Jurgen said, as if just remembering something. "Did you notice if Tommy had a pistol?"

  Mase seemed offended. "What kind of bartender would I be if I missed that? An old Smith revolver, right hip pocket, turned so the butt was toward the middle of his back."

  Jurgen realized bartenders and policemen had a lot in common when it came to watching people. "That is all I need right now. Did you say Brandy was the waitress that waited on Tommy most of the night? Is she working today?"

  "Yeah, Brandy Bates, that's her, the young one." Mase pointed to the two women carrying trays of beer mugs from the bar. "The other is Marlene Bates. She and Brandy are some kind of cousins. She wasn't working last night, but was here with her mother Wilda and Ape. Connie was the other waitress last night."

  "Are you sure? I thought Connie Cooper was the cook."

  "She cooks and waits tables both. Last night Connie was in the kitchen until, oh, eight or nine at least. Then she came out and waited tables until closing. That's easy to remember. The bar always runs smoother when Connie is working. She isn't sneaking a drink all the time or getting orders mixed up like Brandy. Is that all? I need to get back to my bar before Ken screws up the beer taps again."

  Jurgen waved him off after thanking him. Leaning back he asked, "Did you hear all that, Marvin? I think we need to talk to Ape and his friends next."

  "We'll get around to Ape. Stick with the waitresses for now. Interesting that Connie lied to us about waiting tables last night, don't you think?" Tipton then turned and called out: "Brandy, step over here a minute, would you? Officer Neubert wants to ask you some questions."

  When she came up, Tipton gestured at a chair. "Have a seat. Bet you need to get off your feet for a while anyway."

  Looking across the table, Jurgen studied the young waitress. She looked to be in her early twenties, and was pretty in a rough-hewn sort of way. Her looks were spoiled by the dislike, almost hatred, he could sense in the look she gave him in return.