Read Online 14 The Chocolate Clown Corpse by JoAnna Carl - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: JoAnna Carl
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sighed deeply. “But that leads us back to that phone call.”
“Yup. Made from the homeless shelter and assuring us that ‘the wife’ had something to do with Moe’s death.”
“Now that I’ve read up on the case, I guess I’d better make an effort to find out who made that call we got this morning.”
“Do you think he was referring to Moe’s wife? Emma?”
“Who knows? It could have been some other woman; the caller probably didn’t actually know Emma. It might have been Lorraine with the loud mouth. Or anybody. And even if he did mean Emma herself, there’s probably nothing to the tip.”
“After meeting Emma one time, I’m inclined to agree that any involvement by her is unlikely. She’s just so very quiet. She almost hid in the corner while Chuck was showing me around the store. She let Chuck and Lorraine do all the talking.”
“Besides, the investigation report indicates she wasn’t even there.”
“Wasn’t there?”
Joe nodded. “Apparently Chuck met his dad someplace, and they came to the house up here together. Emma had dropped Moe off, then gone home. So it would be hard for Mrs. Davidson to have been involved in her husband’s death.”
“Oh. Well, what’s the next step?”
“Maybe I can run by the shelter and see if they have any idea who made that phone call.”
“Does it matter? If Emma Davidson wasn’t there, why bother?”
“I’m not sure.” Joe considered for a long minute before he said anything else. “I guess you could call it a hunch. Moe Davidson’s death was investigated in such a superficial way—somehow I don’t like to ignore that particular tip.”
“Go for it,” I said.
“I’ve got to see a judge at three o’clock. But maybe I’ll have time to go to the shelter after that. I can’t ignore a potential witness.”
Chapter 8
I was at my office the next time I heard from Joe. At four fifteen he called and asked if I wanted to have dinner out in Holland that evening.
“Sure. What’s the occasion?”
“I’m at the homeless shelter. The director says anybody who’s familiar with the layout here could have wandered into the office and used the phone, especially in the morning, when most of the occupants are moving out and things are busy. So he recommends that I just ask people about Royal Hollis. And the best time would be as they check into the shelter tonight.”
“Are you saying we’re having dinner at the homeless shelter?”
“No, we could go out and eat after I talk to the clients. They finish serving by six thirty or so. I would just stay around on my own, but I need a little help from you. So my dinner invitation includes requesting a favor.”
“What do you need?”
“A change of clothes. I’m wearing the wrong thing.”
“The shelter has a dress code?”
“No.” Joe laughed. “But I’ve got on my impress-the-judgesuit. And that’s not going to impress the shelter’s clientele. They’re pretty informal.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I’ll bring you some jeans.”
“Not the ones with the hole in the knee or the brand-new ones, please. And a flannel shirt. But the shelter opens at five fifteen. The guys are lining up already.”
“I’ll hurry.”
I made it by five o’clock, carrying Joe’s clothes in an old gym bag. Joe snatched it from me and dashed into the men’s room. By the time he came out I had introduced myself to the director—I noticed he also wore jeans and scuffed boots. I’d found time to change into jeans and a flannel shirt, too.
The director was a young, earnest guy. His nametag read DARREL . He explained that the shelter took only men—women and children were referred to a different shelter—and they could register for only one night at a time. Everyone left after breakfast the next morning.
“I don’t know if anybody will be able to give your husband any information,” he said. “But he can ask. And if you are going to wait for him, you can sit here in my
“Yup. Made from the homeless shelter and assuring us that ‘the wife’ had something to do with Moe’s death.”
“Now that I’ve read up on the case, I guess I’d better make an effort to find out who made that call we got this morning.”
“Do you think he was referring to Moe’s wife? Emma?”
“Who knows? It could have been some other woman; the caller probably didn’t actually know Emma. It might have been Lorraine with the loud mouth. Or anybody. And even if he did mean Emma herself, there’s probably nothing to the tip.”
“After meeting Emma one time, I’m inclined to agree that any involvement by her is unlikely. She’s just so very quiet. She almost hid in the corner while Chuck was showing me around the store. She let Chuck and Lorraine do all the talking.”
“Besides, the investigation report indicates she wasn’t even there.”
“Wasn’t there?”
Joe nodded. “Apparently Chuck met his dad someplace, and they came to the house up here together. Emma had dropped Moe off, then gone home. So it would be hard for Mrs. Davidson to have been involved in her husband’s death.”
“Oh. Well, what’s the next step?”
“Maybe I can run by the shelter and see if they have any idea who made that phone call.”
“Does it matter? If Emma Davidson wasn’t there, why bother?”
“I’m not sure.” Joe considered for a long minute before he said anything else. “I guess you could call it a hunch. Moe Davidson’s death was investigated in such a superficial way—somehow I don’t like to ignore that particular tip.”
“Go for it,” I said.
“I’ve got to see a judge at three o’clock. But maybe I’ll have time to go to the shelter after that. I can’t ignore a potential witness.”
Chapter 8
I was at my office the next time I heard from Joe. At four fifteen he called and asked if I wanted to have dinner out in Holland that evening.
“Sure. What’s the occasion?”
“I’m at the homeless shelter. The director says anybody who’s familiar with the layout here could have wandered into the office and used the phone, especially in the morning, when most of the occupants are moving out and things are busy. So he recommends that I just ask people about Royal Hollis. And the best time would be as they check into the shelter tonight.”
“Are you saying we’re having dinner at the homeless shelter?”
“No, we could go out and eat after I talk to the clients. They finish serving by six thirty or so. I would just stay around on my own, but I need a little help from you. So my dinner invitation includes requesting a favor.”
“What do you need?”
“A change of clothes. I’m wearing the wrong thing.”
“The shelter has a dress code?”
“No.” Joe laughed. “But I’ve got on my impress-the-judgesuit. And that’s not going to impress the shelter’s clientele. They’re pretty informal.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I’ll bring you some jeans.”
“Not the ones with the hole in the knee or the brand-new ones, please. And a flannel shirt. But the shelter opens at five fifteen. The guys are lining up already.”
“I’ll hurry.”
I made it by five o’clock, carrying Joe’s clothes in an old gym bag. Joe snatched it from me and dashed into the men’s room. By the time he came out I had introduced myself to the director—I noticed he also wore jeans and scuffed boots. I’d found time to change into jeans and a flannel shirt, too.
The director was a young, earnest guy. His nametag read DARREL . He explained that the shelter took only men—women and children were referred to a different shelter—and they could register for only one night at a time. Everyone left after breakfast the next morning.
“I don’t know if anybody will be able to give your husband any information,” he said. “But he can ask. And if you are going to wait for him, you can sit here in my
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