The Shoe Mystery

The old woman was all wrong about the way it happened, Joel was sure of that, just as he was sure that Susan was right now packing her things to leave him. He looked up at the building his eyes scaling the thirteen floors to the top. It gave him a neck ache to bend back so far. He dropped his head forward and rubbed the back of his neck. That damn headache! He could feel the muscles tightening in a spasmodic clinch. He turned his head right to left slowly in an effort to release the cramp's grip. It didn't work. The tightening spread down his neck and into his shoulders.

"You okay?"

Joel didn't have to turn to see who was addressing him; he knew his friend's voice better than he knew Susan's.

"Does it look like I'm all right?"

"When are you going to go to my chiropractor? Let me call him and set up an appointment for you." Dave pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

"No." Joel insisted. "Did you see anything up on the roof?"

"His shoes," Dave reluctantly put his cell away. "Now, who takes off their shoes before they jump?"

"No one, that's who," Joel's neck muscles finally relaxed, and he stretched his shoulders by moving his arms forward and back again. "So, what do we do now? The witness said she saw Nicky jump."

"I don't know for sure, but we both know that Nicky wouldn't do that. Now how do we convince the police?"

Joel Robinson and Dave Hanson were lifelong friends with the deceased, Nicholas Barton. The three went to school together at Westlake High- class of '68. Over the years the three of them battled life together from mortgages, jobs, wives, and growing old and sure there were plenty of ups and downs, but nothing that would make one of them ride the elevator to the top and jump off and certainly not Nicky. If anyone had reasons to jump it would be Joel. He was facing divorce after twenty-six years of marriage, and even though the marriage had been a strain to continue for many years Joel did his part to keep it going, because that is what you were suppose to do- keep it going. Until death- we do part.

"Well? What do you think we should do now?" Dave asked.

Joel looked up at the top of the building. "I don't know, Dave. I just don't know. We know that Nicky didn't jump off that damn building. We know that!" Joel slapped his hand with his fist. "I think we need to find out why he was up there in the first place. We need to go talk with his co-workers, maybe?"

"Yeah, we can do that. Susan worked with him," Dave suddenly remembered. "Did you ask her?"

"Susan is the biggest bitch," Joel shook his head. In the past three weeks he found the need to stop himself often when it came to complaining about his wife. "We don't talk much." He rubbed his stomach in an absent minded way.

"You want to go get something to eat?" Dave asked.

"Yeah, I guess so. I don't want to go home right now, Susan is moving out today."

"Sorry, man."

"Naw, it's okay. I'm surprised at how much of a relief it is." Joel walked toward the mini van. He could get rid of it now, maybe get a truck, or a bike. "Where are the shoes?" Joel noticed that Dave was not carrying Nicky's shoes.

"Left them," Dave answered climbing into the passenger side, his stomach almost touching the dashboard.

"You left them?"

"Sure. Krieger told us not to touch anything, remember?"

"Yeah, I forgot," Joel paused to look up at the building again and then ducked into the van settling behind the wheel. "It just seems a shame to leave his shoes up there, like we are leaving him up there. What are we going to do without old Nicky?”

Joel pulled the minivan out into the flow of traffic heading south to The Diner. In a little town like Waterford there were few choices for restaurants. There was a MacDonald's on the east side, a Burger King to the west and, of course, The Diner downtown. The other two belonged to the younger generation. The Diner served beer along with the best steak and cheese sandwiches in the area.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon and the lunch crowd was gone. That suited Dave and Joel just fine. They chose a table away from the windows and closer to the counter seating.

"Afternoon boys," came a throaty acknowledgement.

"Sherry," Dave called to the waitress. "Pitcher of Bud," he waited for Joel's nodding approval, "and two of your steak sandwiches."

Joel sighed heavily, rubbing his meaty hands across his forehead.

"This is really going to be hard, man. How are we going to get through bowling season without him?"

"I know. I sure am going to miss 'em. It's like a piece of me is gone too. The problem is, neither one of us are detectives. Hell, we don't know how to prove that Nicky didn't commit suicide." Dave leaned forward, elbows on the table, and pointed his finger into the Formica tabletop. "What we should do is hire a detective."

Joel sat straight up. He liked the idea. "I just might know someone," he offered.

The door of the diner opened making the bell ring. Sergeant Krieger of the Waterford Police Department entered. He was a big man, too large for his uniform, with shifty eyes that continually scanned the room, even an empty room like this one. Dave and Joel exchanged knowing glances. Neither of the men believed that Sergeant Krieger was anything more than a glorified Barney Fife.

"Robinson and Hanson," the police officer nodded at the men. Sergeant Krieger referred to everyone with the use of their last names.

Joel and Dave in turn referred to Sergeant Krieger by his first name.

"Steve," they echoed. It annoyed the sergeant.

Sergeant Krieger turned a chair around by their table and straddled it. He had yet to remove his city issued sunglasses and as he sat he moved his gun to the side. The entire episode was comical enough to make Joel snicker. The police officer glared at him.

"Robinson, you go up on the roof?"

"No, Hanson did,” Joel mimicked the officer’s Dragnet tone.

"Cut it out, Joel," Dave warned. "I went up there and I still don't think that Nicky jumped off that roof. I don't care what your witness says."

"We know he didn't," Sergeant Krieger replied dryly.

Joel and Dave were shocked. The waitress approached the table with their order. She hesitated because of Dave's gasp and then realizing he was reacting to the table discussion and not the order, she sat the sandwiches on the table.

"Someone killed poor Nicky?"

"No, we have no reason to believe that at this time." Sergeant Krieger watched the waitress return to her counter wiping. He scanned the room, talking over his shoulder to the men at the table.

"So what do you believe? Krieger, come on, give us your attention," Dave demanded.

Sergeant Krieger turned his attention back to the table. He carefully, slowly and dramatically removed his sunglasses, narrowing his eyes at Dave.

"It was an accident," Krieger finally answered.

"An accident-- aw, come on Steve," Joel whined.

"You have got to be kidding me," Dave's anger was apparent. "You're an idiot, Krieger."

"Listen, you yahoo's," Krieger shouted. "I got the report from your wife, Susan." Krieger indicated Joel by poking a finger into the man's chest. Joel glared at the police officer.

"Susan? What does she have to do with any of this?"

"Well, the story goes that Barton and your wife went up on the roof of the McGuire Insurance building to hang a banner across the street to the Waterford National Bank building."

"A banner?"

"For the fourth of July picnic," Sergeant Krieger made the statement as though he was explaining a foreign concept. The only thing he didn't do was follow with the word- duh. "That's why he took his shoes off. He wanted to check out the fire escape for a place to tie the banner. Pity, would have looked great hanging across Main like that."

Joel jumped to his feet, knocking his chair backwards, with both fists ready.

"You son-of-a-bitch," he screamed at Krieger. Dave caught his friend from across the table preventing him from the attack.

The police officer stood and backed away from the table. He smirked as he put his sunglasses on.

"I'll let that slide, Robinson. I know you are both under a lot of pressure right now." Then Krieger pointed his finger at the two, "but don't let it happen again, hear?" The oversized police officer strolled to the door.

"Get a grip, Joel."

"Get a grip yourself, Dave. Did you hear what that bastard said about Susan and Nicky?"

Suddenly the two friends realized they needed to talk with Susan. Dave threw a twenty on the table as they rushed to the car.

"What time was she leaving?"

"I don't know. I don't listen to her anymore."

When Dave and Joel arrived at the house, Susan Robinson was just finishing her packing. Her heels clicked against the tile flooring. There was no back strap so the heel of the shoe flopped against the heel of her foot making a slapping noise after each click-click on the tiles. After the second suitcase she had split a nail when sitting it down, that had taken extra time in her departure while she found a file and corrected the break. The bangle bracelets she wore slid up and down her arm as she carried boxes, suitcases, clothing bags and shoe boxes tied in stacks to the entrance way. Her shirt was longer than usual but very tight, keeping her strides into mere shuffles instead of steps. She wore a white blouse with pearls wrapped around her neck and her hair was freshly done that morning at Blair’s Beauty Bouquet downtown. As she carried the last suitcase into the hallway the men burst through the door.

"Susan," Joel was breathless.

"There's no need begging, Joel. My mind is made up, I'm leaving." Susan picked up her purse.

"Not before you talk with us about Nicky," Dave chimed in. "Sergeant Krieger just told us that you were there. Why didn't you tell us what happened?"

"I tried to," Susan cried. "But you two won't listen to me. Do you know what it was like? Being up there with him..uh… how humiliating it must have been for him to..to..." She broke off in sobs.

Joel and Dave exchanged looks. Was she implying that their friend Nicholas Barton was not a gentleman?

"What?" Joel was so stunned by her remarks he felt dizzy and sagged into the hall chair.

"Susan," Dave led her gently into the living room offering her a seat on the couch. "Maybe you had better start at the beginning. We don't understand what is going on here."

"Well," Susan began cautiously. "Nicky and I went up on the roof to check about spreading a banner across Main. The mayor wanted the city hall banner to be higher and more visible than any other advertisement for the fourth. You know, on a count of his re-election bid."

Dave nodded. "Yes, of course- go on."

"Well, Nicky and I went up. He thought the banner could be hooked to the fire escape better than the building itself. He kept leaning over the building; it was really making me nervous. And so, I suggested he could get a better look by going out on the fire escape and so he did."

"Why did he take off his shoes?" Joel asked, coming into the room.

"Because they were new and the souls were slippery."

Dave and Joel exchanged glances. They both felt something wasn't right, and Dave was asking permission to press her. Joel knew it and granted permission by nodding, and left the room. He went into the kitchen and used the phone.

"What did you mean earlier- about it being 'humiliating'?"

"Look, I've already answered all these questions to the police," Susan stood, “you can’t bully me, Dave Hanson! Don’t even try.”

Dave caught her arm and pulled her back to attention, “Listen,” he struggled in his word choice with one word teasing his tongue to be said. Slowly and distinctly he said, “Susan, answer me. Is it too much to ask to know all the truth?”

Susan softened her voice, "I suppose not. It was just embarrassing, I guess. I thought he was taking off his shoes to, well, you know. I thought he was interested- in me, and that going up on the roof was just a ploy to get me alone...you know...because Nicky and I worked so closely together...and I thought...well, anyway, I was wrong."

"How did you find out that you were wrong?" Dave asked her.

Susan hesitated. "Because he rejected me, I tried to hug him, and he pushed me away, and he fell. It was horrible!" She covered her eyes with her wrist in a dramatic display of suffering.

A taxi horn blew. "There's my cab!" She jumped to her feet, hurrying toward the door. "And that's all I'm going to say. Now, leave me alone. I am leaving, leaving this horrible town, this hideous marriage, and all the other tragedies. I'm going to stay with my friends"

She gathered her suitcases, handing them to the cab driver as he approached the door. With a last minute thought she called over her shoulder, "Joel, I'm leaving."

There was no response from the kitchen, which angered her. The least he could do is pretend to be upset about her leaving. There had been good years in the beginning and she certainly was the catch of Waterford and she did not appreciate being ignored.

She spat her words in the direction of the kitchen, "The divorce will be final in six weeks. If you want to talk to me, you can call my lawyer." She huffed and mumbled all the way down the sidewalk to the waiting cab.

Joel returned to the living room when he heard the front door slam. "Any luck?"

Dave was still sitting on the couch. He looked confused, dazed. "She is lying, that is so clear, but why? Do you think that Susan pushed old Nicky off the building?" Dave snapped his fingers. "I got it, the bitch was being rejected by him, and so she pushed him."

"Nicky weighed two hundred pounds, I don't think Susan could have pushed him. She might have been able to trip him if he were running at her, but who would run at her?"

"You did once," Dave reminded him.

Joel did not laugh. "Well, I called my friend, Mike, the detective, while you were talking to her. He said he'd look into it."

"Good." Dave answered. "We still have to deal with the fact that our friend is gone, man. Ain't nothing going to bring him back, but having Mike the detective on the case," Dave nodded his head, "that makes me feel better, that's all. Like I'm doing something, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Joel sighed.

“How do you know a detective anyway?”

“Susan hired him last year to follow me around,” Joel snickered. “We became good buddies.”


         Three days later Susan Robinson was ready to leave town. Her bank account was closed out, her final paycheck was accepted, and all her friends were informed that she was going on an extended vacation- to ease the pain of her pending divorce. She smiled her way around town as she performed her chores. Whenever asked about the tragedy of Nicholas Barton, Susan would put on her sad face and agree that it was such a shame. She was not aware of the man that followed her around town, hiding in the shadows, pretending not to be there when all the time he was. He watched. He followed.

Finally the day came to leave town. Susan took a taxi to the airport. At the airport there was a man waiting for her. He was a large man, accustomed to wearing a uniform and uncomfortable in his street clothes. He tugged at his collar. The heat of the day made his clothes stick to him even worse and showed the perspiration from his armpits. She had taken so long to arrive that he finally decided to step into the air-conditioned terminal. When the cab pulled up he hurried outside to greet her.

"What took you so long?" He questioned her.

She smiled as she stepped to the curb. "I hurried as much as I could. Everyone in town asked me questions, just like you said they would. I talked with Joel and Dave on Thursday; they were the worst ones, asking me questions about what happened." She smiled at him again. "I missed you! Not being able to speak with you has been so hard!"

She stepped on tiptoes to give Steve Krieger a kiss.

"Did you tell them what I said?"

Susan paused. He was happy to see her, wasn't he?

"I followed it word for word, even cried and acted like it was all a horrible accident. I did everything you told me to do, Steve."

"Good girl."

They hurried in the terminal to check her luggage. There was only twenty minutes until departure.

"Steve?"

They were standing in line at the American Air-Way counter.

"Steve, do you think anyone will ever discover the truth?"

He was busy scanning the airport, looking over his shoulder, sizing up the passengers around him; her question drew his attention back to her. He looked at the airline ticket agent, decided she was too busy with their tickets to over-hear Susan's question.

"No. There is no reason they should, and if that stupid Barton hadn't come up on the roof after you, well," Steve lowered his voice. "Well, it's done now."

The ticket agent handed them their boarding passes with a smile and pointed down a long hall towards their departure gate.

"We'll be in the Bahamas before anyone realizes." He held her elbow as he hurried Susan along the walkway, her heels clicking with every hurried step.

"But, Steve, won't they be able to trace the money? Don’t the mayor’s campaign officers keep some sort of record?"

"No, why should they? No, no one will make the connection." Steve smiled. He was pleased with his plan. Everything had fallen into place, except for Nicholas Barton coming up on the roof. He had followed Susan from the office, oh well, it's just like they say- curiosity kills the cat. That will teach him to mind his own business.

"I suppose you’re right, no one but us will ever know." Susan passed through the metal detector.

Steve thought about her last statement. She would know. He passed through the metal detector setting off the alarm.

"Sorry boys," Steve drew his badge. "Forgot I had it on me," he opened his coat to show the gun as he held his badge out for their inspection.

The security guards understood. Even police officers go on vacation. They waved him on through and Steve chose a seat next to Susan. Yes, she was the only one who would know that he took the Mayor's campaign fund, and the only witness to Nicholas Barton's murder. Steve looked at her. Could he trust her?

Their flight was called and they boarded the plane and settled into their seats.

"Excuse me," a pretty, young flight attendant addressed Steve. "I understand you are a police officer?"

"Yes."

"I was wondering if you would consider sitting by the emergency exit door."

Steve smiled. It was customary to have an authority figure by the emergency exit- be that a police officer, a military man, or just a large man. The airline ensured by doing so, that person could properly open the door. Seating any yahoo by the emergency exit could spell disaster. Suddenly, an idea occurred to Steve.

"Of course," Steve smiled at the flight attendant. "Susan," He stepped into the aisle and offered that she should go first.

They settled again in the seats next to the emergency doors. The flight attendants began their instructions in case of an emergency. Steve surveyed his surroundings. There was a little old lady across the aisle and beside her a business man- asleep, naturally. There was a guy one seat back and to the right that kept staring at him, but the guy was probably just staring at his gun. Most people stare at the gun. Steve shifted, covering his coat over the handle of the revolver. It wouldn't be long before they would be over water, a slight twist of the handle and poof, oh well, accidents do happen.

Susan was adjusting herself in the seat. She smiled at him and then took his arm, snuggling against him.

"Can't wait to see the water," she exclaimed.

"Neither can I," Steve answered. "Neither can I."


HEADLINE NEWS: Detective Mike Stork participated in the arrest of Sergeant Krieger of the Waterford Police Department yesterday at Miami International Airport for the attempted murder of his companion, Susan Robinson, and the suspected murder of Nicky Barton. A sizeable sum of money was found in Krieger's possession at the time of the arrest. Detective Stork would not comment on his association of the events, citing client confidentiality. Robinson stated that if Detective Stork had not been aboard the same flight to Miami she would have perished at the hands of the former police sergeant.




"Hey Joel, Mike here," Detective Stork used his cell phone. "It is on the news down here, and I'm sure you will hear it soon enough, but I wanted to call you personally and let you know."

"Does that mean you got something on Susan?" Joel tried to control his excitement.

Dave and he were shooting a few pins at the local bowling alley. He motioned to Dave to hurry with the beers. Dave moved as quickly as he could back to the ally without spilling any of the pitchers. Joel held his hand over the receiver, "It's Mike," he told Dave.

"Yeah, Mike, I'm here," Joel answered.

"The case is wrapped up, Joel, but there is a lot more involved than originally thought."

"I see," Joel said, not really understanding the detective's implications. He strained to hear over the noise in the bowling alley.

"Steve Krieger was arrested," Mike began.

"What? Steve Krieger?" Joel looked at Dave. "Mike, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Your wife and Steve Krieger have been having an affair, and from the information I have gathered, it has been going on for almost a year," Mike told him.

Joel sat down hard. The plastic chair attached to the scoring table bounced from the force.

"What is it? What is he telling you?" Dave urged.

Joel handed Dave his cell phone.

"Mike, this is Dave. Joel is in shock, what did you tell him?"

Mike Stork repeated the information to Dave. Joel watched his face as Dave heard the facts behind Nicky's death, his mouth opened further and further into a gaping hole.

"No shit?" Dave muttered, and handed the phone back to Joel. He poured a glass of beer and chugged it.

"Mike, Joel here."

"Joel, I'm sorry to tell you man, but there is a lot more. Krieger was meeting Susan on the roof of that building when Nicky followed her and caught them. Krieger made him take off his shoes, and then threw him off the building. He came up with the big story afterwards and Susan went along with it. He was stealing the Mayor's campaign fund and Susan was his connection to the money. He was using her as much as anyone else."

Mike paused to listen to the airport announcement.

"Hey buddy, they’re calling my flight. I'll meet you at the house at ten and fill you in with the rest of it."

"Sure thing, Mike," Joel mumbled, and folded the phone. He stared at Dave.

"Unbelievable," Dave said.

Joel nodded. "I knew there was something odd about his shoes," Joel mumbled. He was speaking barely above a whisper. "I just knew something was wrong with that."

Dave finished another glass of beer and stood. "Well, let's go."

"Where to," Joel looked up at him still stunned.

"To the cemetery, we have to tell Nicky we got the bastard that did him in."

Joel looked at his friend. Dave's cheeks were flushed red from the excitement and the chugging beers.

"Yeah, you’re right," Joel stood. "Let's go tell Nicky the good news. But first, let's go get his shoes."