Iris Pierce Mysteries

Part 10

We left the inspector to handle the body. Me and Howard walked to Edward Martin's house so as to avoid traffic. It was obvious the roads wouldn't be clear for a while. The man's bloodied face stayed in my mind, switching between the dagger and Elizabeth's ghost.

Edward's house was an average sized block with an astonishingly bright red door and rectangular windows. There was no front lawn, just a paved way. Howard knocked on the door thrice, at last a skinny man welcomed us in. He sat us in the lounge, simple but elegantly decorated. I heard fast paced footsteps upstairs, children, I realised. The kettle whistled in the kitchen where a brunette in a floral dress and white apron worked happily. The man himself, Edward, was long nosed and big-eared, his hair stood on end like a hedgehog. He was young, incredibly young.

Could he really be a killer?

'Thank you for allowing us in Mr Martin. I won't take much of your time. I just want to understand something.'
'Of course. I am all about understanding things. And I love a good conspiracy! I'd be happy to help you with whatever you need!' Me and Howard exchanged confused looks. If Miss Banks was indeed murdered by her son because of a deep rage and desperation for revenge he had, then this wasn't our man. But it had to be. Hampton had given us his name as Miss Banks' son and his initials matched those in the locket.
'Are you the son of Beatrice Banks?' As Howard uttered the words, the man's smile faded. Not replaced by anger, but sadness.

'Yes, though I never met her. I came by her house a few times but was too afraid to knock. I thought she wouldn't recognise me or she didn't want me. I was raised in Maple Grove Sanatorium.' Howard noted it down in his notebook. I tried to see through the lies and find the truth but I couldn't. He wasn't lying. He actually had never met her.

At this point I would've just walked out the door and left. If he hadn't met Miss Banks then he couldn't have killed her or Elizabeth. 'Okay. Where were you yesterday at seven in the evening?'
'I was at the Nirvana diner. Hang on, am I a suspect for a crime?' Howard took no notice of his question and hurried onto his next inquiry.

'And what about six-thirty today?' Clearly Howard was not dropping the investigation of the murdered baker in the alleyway. I wondered what he planned to do without the name of the victim.
'Well, I was asleep!'
'Can your wife confirm this?'
'Not really, she spent the night at her mother's house. Came back only a couple hours ago. Speaking of my wife-Hilda? Haven't you prepared the tea?' He called out behind himself to the brunette.

Not a moment later did she come scampering in with a tray in her hands. The pocket of Hilda's apron was heavily weighed down by something and I noticed a blossom pin on her collar. Hilda set it down on the table and left. Hilda was a very quiet, timid person. After she left, Howard asked, 'What about a month ago, third of July?' Edward looked around the room, trying hard to recall his movements on that specific date. The day Elizabeth died.
'That day I went to the Black Lodge. I considered knocking and meeting my mother and-cousin-I think-but I chickened out. I turned around and walked away just as I was about to knock.'

I drank my tea silently, Howard didn't do so much as touch his. With every word said, Howard scribbled something in his loopy handwriting onto his notebook. 'One more thing, do you own a locket? One with a poem inside it?'
'Yes, I did. And then I lost it. I must have dropped it somewhere on the street or left it lying around in the house where Artie or Betty must have gotten it. They are my children.' Upon further questioning, we found out nothing.

He hadn't heard anything going on inside and he did casually dine at the Nirvana so he might have known Elizabeth. The only problem about his innocent story was that he had no alibis to confirm his position on all the days Howard mentioned. And then there was Mrs Martin. Unlike Edward Martin, she gave off a tense, uneasy vibe.

➿

After visiting the Martins, me and Howard made a stop at the Nirvana. The place was lit by a large chandelier hanging from the centre of the dome-shaped ceiling and candelabra on each table. The floor was decorated in an old fashioned black and white check pattern and the walls painted a mustard yellow. At the counter, a woman with cropped brown hair and a red uniform leaned nonchalantly against the bench. 'What can I get you?' Her voice was stultifying and her eyes weary. 'Some answers would be nice. Detective Parker of the Parker and Hampton agency. This is Miss Pierce. We would like to ask you some questions.' At the mention of the word 'detective', the woman stood stiffly and crossed her arms.

'Well get on with it then, having you lot in the diner isn't good for publicity.' Howard produced his leather covered notebook from the inside of his coat. If he was the one taking notes, what was I going to do? I suppose my job was just to stand there. 'You are aware of the death of your co-worker Elizabeth Dougherty?'
'I am. Heard she was dumped in the lake. That's karma, that is.'
'I'm sorry? What do you mean 'karma.' Did something happen?' Howard's expression may have been solid on the outside but I knew the signs. He was leaning onto the counter, eyebrows raised and a smile twitching on the side of his lips. He was beginning to become more than interested.
'Oh yeah! Couple days before Lizzie did die, she was arguing with one of our regulars. Brown haired man with a Pinocchio nose. Dunno what it was about but it looked pretty heated. After the argument Lizzie ran into the kitchen and out the back door. Next day she came in pretty late. A waiter is never meant to argue with a customer. Just not the way. You can ask Colette, bet she knows the lot.'
'And why is that?'
'They were best mates. She was in pieces when the news of Lizzie's death came out. Colette is in the kitchen, talk to her if you like.'

Colette, a blonde with wide eyes and cat claws, sat with us in a free outside table of the diner. She was fidgety and avoided any eye contact. I wondered if she'd talk with us at all. The girl from the counter, who we learned was named Thea, was not lying when she said Colette was in pieces. Before even stating our business with her, Colette was already shaking her head, waving her gold curls around, swearing on her life that she didn't hurt 'Lizzie' and how they had been the best of friends. Howard sat there impatiently as I calmed her down, assuring her we were only trying to solve the death of Elizabeth and how Colette could be the one to help us find the killer.

'After she had the argument,' Colette started, suppressing huge sobs, 'I went to find her. I found her sitting in the car park behind the diner. The man she was talking to, he had been following her home for many days before. The night following that day, the mysterious man asked her questions about her aunt. And-and when she refused to answer him, he backed her up on a wall and threatened her with a switchblade! When Lizzie yelled out for help, he let go of her and left. I suppose he's the one that killed her. Just an ordinary looking bloke, that man! Sure he was a bit strange but there was no way I would've pinned him down as a stalker had Lizzie not told me!'

Howard stayed silent, staring at his notebook. He somehow managed to write pages and pages. At the end of the interview, Colette really had burst into tears and had her makeup coming down her face in smears of black. 'Godspeed detective!'