Murder on K Street - Margaret Truman [44]
“Did you see Mrs. Simmons when you returned at four thirty?” Chang asked.
“I didn’t say it was four thirty exactly,” Schultz replied.
“Approximately four thirty,” Chang corrected.
“Right. Approximately. No, I didn’t see her again. I really didn’t stay around long, just cleaned up, grabbed my tools, and went home. I was pretty upset, I’ll tell you that.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t find my favorite hammer. Somebody must have stole it. You wouldn’t think that sort of thing would happen in a fancy neighborhood like that. You can’t leave anything lying around these days. I really liked that hammer, had it for years.”
Chang noted the missing hammer in the notes he was taking. “You went straight home after work?”
“Right. Well, no, not exactly. I stopped off for a beer.”
“Not exactly,” Chang said.
“Right. I want to be as accurate as possible for you folks. I know you’ve got a lollapalooza of a murder case on your hands.”
Widletz readjusted her posture in the hard wooden chair and said, “While you were working at the house that day, Mr. Schultz, did you see anyone else there? Were there any visitors?”
“Oh, boy, let me think about that.” Again, a hand to the chin.
Could anything ever grow on that chin? Widletz wondered.
“The mailman,” Schultz said. “He came while I was there.”
“Anyone else?” Chang asked.
“Let me see. Oh, sure. Walter arrived with some dry cleaning.”
“Walter?”
“Walter McTeague. He’s the senator’s personal driver. Bodyguard, too, I think. Hey, he was one of you guys as I understand. A former cop.”
“Did he go inside the house?”
“Sure. He shows up there lots of times. Usually goes inside.”
“What time did he arrive?”
“That’s a tough one. Let me see. I think it was just before I left for my break at three thirty. About three thirty.”
“How long did he stay?” Chang asked.
Schultz shrugged. “I don’t know. He was gone when I got back.”
“Who else?” asked Chang.
“Hmmm. Mrs. Simmons came out after I got back from lunch and asked whether I’d seen her sister. I guess she was supposed to visit.”
Chang glanced down at his notes. “Marlene Boynton?”
“That’s her.”
“You didn’t see her?”
“Nope. She stops by the house often. She doesn’t live far away. She’s…”
“She’s what?” Widletz asked.
“Well, no offense to her, but she’s a little—” He rotated his index finger against his temple. “I don’t listen in, mind you, but I’ve heard them get into some pretty bad arguments. So loud it comes right through the closed doors and windows.” He raised his hand. “Wait. I don’t want to be wrong here. It’s always the sister who does the screaming, not Mrs. Simmons. She’s too much of a lady to do that.”
“But she didn’t show up that day?” Chang said.
“Not as far as I know. Of course, I was gone for a while. Okay if I go now?”
“In a few minutes,” Chang said. “No one else visited the house that you can remember?”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. There was somebody else, arrived just as I was leaving for the day.”
They waited for him to elaborate.
“Never saw him before. He pulled up in a fancy car, a Mercedes—or maybe it was a BMW—I can’t tell one of those expensive cars from another. Might have been a Lexus. I know it wasn’t an SUV. Anyway, I was pulling away in my panel truck when he arrived, pulled right up in the driveway to the front door and got out.”
“You saw the driver?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And?”
“He was a tall black fella. Real dark. Had on a suit.”
“And you’d never seen him before.”
“That’s right.”
“Think you’d recognize him if you saw him again.”
“Probably not. I only got a glimpse of him.”
“Did he go inside?” Chang asked.
“Sure. I mean, I didn’t see him go inside because I was on my way, but I assume he did. Why would he be there if he wasn’t going to go inside?”
“What color was the car?”
“Light-colored. White, I think. Maybe gray. But light. Are we finished? I promised my wife I’d get home early today.”
Or his buddies at the bar are waiting, Widletz thought.
“Sure,” she said. “You’re free to go, but we may want to talk to you again. No trips planned?”
“Nope. We’ve got a cabin in North