Stitch in Snow

I resolutely took out my knitting as I settled myself to wait to board the plane. That reminded me of how I had got into Dan's company in the first place. But the knitting worked its usual charm. I reviewed and re-reviewed what I did know about Dan, and Denver, and my conclusion reaffirmed my judgment of him. He was innocent of that capital charge.

I was overwhelmingly grateful to be asked to board at Gate 9. I was glad to be involved with the routine of flying, responding to the hostess's polite queries. And wondering what would happen if I told her, instead of inanities, that I was flying to Denver as the material witness in a murder case. Trial? No, it hadn't, it couldn't have come to trial so soon. Could it? But my flight was really a matter of someone's life which was being threatened by someone else's death.

Chapter 8

When I walked up the ramp in Denver, I had graduated from Visiting Celebrity to Murder Witness. This makes for flash photos and newspaper reporters and an entirely different sort of reception I'd rather not endure again.

Fortunately Peter Taggert was there. After my first confusion of shouting 'no comment' my arm was grabbed by a stocky man in an elegant pinstripe suit with one of those expensive patterned tie and shirt combinations. He elbowed two reporters out of the way and placed his broad back between me and the other important members of the press.

'I'm Pete Taggert, Mrs. Lovell, if you'll just come with me.' He ran interference. 'No comment, boys. You can see Mrs. Lovell later. Right now, I got her. This way, Mrs. Lovell.' He seemed to pow/bam/crash on my name. But he could pow/bam/crash through the reporters.

'Give me your baggage checks, Mrs. Lovell,' he said to me in an undertone as we raced down the slick corridor.

He gave them in turn to someone running beside us and then veered suddenly to our right, through a door marked 'private', down some steps leading to a corridor, through a door to the back VIP parking. He guided me to a big, dark green Buick convertible. We were away, zooming out of the airport, neat as you please.

There were still snowdrifts lining the roads.

'First, Mrs. Lovell, thanks for calling today. You're saving Jerry's life. Second, let me apologise for dragging your son into this but that was the only clue we had to your whereabouts without a police search. I don't think guest lecturers would appreciate that kind of attention. Jerry'd seen your son's address on a letter. He wanted me to get that straight with you first. Third, having got you here I'd better tell you that this is going to be a nasty case.'

He kept his eyes on the road as he talked so that I had only his rather rough profile to look at and no indication of his attitude or feelings. He drove fast but well and spoke in a low, well placed voice which was conversational rather than obviously controlled.

'There've been some snide cracks about your existence, Mrs. Lovell…'

'Why did you emphasise my name so heavily at the airport?'

'Jerry said you were quick…' He grinned.

'I also know him as Dan rather than Jerry…'

'So he said. About your name, his is Lowell.'

'Close but no cigar…'

'Not when you see the handwriting on your room bill. It looks like Lovell. Clerk error, okay, but the prosecution is making out that you knew each other before; that your presence in the hotel was pre-arranged…'

'And the murder?'

'The alibi was pre-arranged… so the murder could be committed with impunity.'

I felt cold and a bit sick.

'I suppose we arranged the snowstorm, too?'

'They'd like it if you had.' Peter Taggert's mouth curved down in a sour smile.

'I'd never met Dan… Jerry… Lowell before in my life. After all, I can prove I've been living in Ireland…'

He shot me a surprised look. 'You don't know what he does for a living?'

'He said something about being an engineer and travelling a lot.'

'And you don't read Irish newspapers? About off-shore oil?'

'Oh, God, and he has been in Ireland?'

He nodded slowly, his eyes on the road.

'So Dan and I were supposed to have met in Dublin, hatched up a murder, seeded clouds for a convenient blizzard for what reason? If they were already divorced?'

'Noreen Sue…'

'Good God, I didn't think people were really named that.'

'Noreen Sue divorced Jerry two years ago, and bluntly, took him for all she could. Part of the settlement was her right to use the marital home… which has been in Dan's family since Pike discovered the Peak - as long as she remained in Denver with their son. Jerry wanted DJ to have a settled life.' Peter Taggert snorted. 'Noreen's nothing but a tramp and the boy's been miserable. He's only just old enough to appeal to court to change the custody. The case is… was due… to come up in two weeks…'

'Then you were one of his business phone calls?'

'Yes…' he was about to say more but changed his mind.

'And she was fighting the matter?'

'Yes, with all she had. She'd lose the house and the support money. I don't think she cared about losing the boy…'

'I'd say that she had reason to murder him… not the other way around. You haven't told me how she was killed?'

'She was hit on the head and died of exposure.

'That's not murder…'

'No, manslaughter. But if they can prove Jerry did it, it'll put him into jail for a long time and deprive him of his son.'

'The poor boy! And where was he at the time?' I am not fond of calling kids by initials; it sounds affected.

'DJ was in Denver with a school friend. His mother was supposed to pick him up Tuesday after school when the blizzard warnings were hoisted but she never collected him.'

'Where was the marital home… in relation to the airport hotel?'

'On the way into Denver, Mrs. Lovell. About three miles from the hotel… as the snow bird flies.'

I began to see the problem. 'In short, Dan - had he been the killer - could have hiked from the hotel to the house, done the dirty and come back in spite of the weather conditions?'

'Yes.'

'Too bad that won't wash. Dan was never out of my sight, particularly on the night involved, long enough to have hiked three miles in those conditions.'

'Prosecution has a witness who saw him at the hotel at 6 PM dressed for outdoors, found him very distracted and anxious to get away…'

'Old Hearty-har-har…'

'I beg your pardon?'

'That's what I called…oh, what was his name… I have it written down in my diary…'

'Fred B. Winkleman?'

'Fred, yes, that was what Dan called him. I was at the elevator when Dan was trying to shake him loose.'

'You were?'

'Yes, I was. And I was in Dan's company…' I took a deep breath,'… the entire night. We watched both screenings of Gunga Din: that was the feature film of the week.'

'Gunga Din?' His foot slipped on the accelerator.

'Yes, and I'd swear to that under oath, on a stack of Bibles, anything you wish.'

'Yes, Mrs. Lovell.'

My willingness did not seem to reassure him. He sounded tired, morally tired.

'So it's on Hearty-har-har's say-so that Dan is pegged for the role of murderer? That seems rather flimsy evidence.'

'I said it was all circumstantial. There's a night watchman that spoke with him at 4:30 AM Friday, who said he was fully dressed.'

'Yes, but…'

'There are statements that Noreen Sue was aware that Dan was in Denver, at that hotel, and she had telephoned several people, asking them to come stay with her because she was afraid of what Dan might do to her.'

'Hysterical type. And?'

'The storm prevented anyone from getting to her house.'

'Oh?'

'She also phoned the police, saying that she was in physical danger from her ex-husband. He had called her… the calls are part of the hotel records…'