Free A Knife to Remember by Jill Churchill Page B

was his mentor, his employer.“
    “Protégés have knocked off mentors before, Jane,“ Mel said. “Sometimes that’s how they get to be mentors in their turn. Or, suppose this: Butch had made some screw-up that Jake was not only going to fire him for, but bad-mouth him throughout the business. I get the impression from talking to people that Jake Elder knew everybody who was anybody and was well thought of—professionally, at least. I haven’t met anybody yet who makes any pretense of having liked him.“
    “But what kind of mistake could Butch have made that would be that important? He was an apprentice, just a glorified gofer, it seemed to me. Learning the ropes from the bottom up by fetching and carrying.”
    Mel gestured toward the window and the scene beyond. “What kind of mistake? I’d think there’d be about a hundred you could make out there. Just look at all those electrical wires, for one thing. Those look like a disaster waiting to happen.“
    “But Jake and Butch had nothing to do with that part of it, did they?“ Jane asked. “What could you do wrong with a prop that would matter?“
    “I’m just speculating, Jane. It’s my job,“ Mel said tightly.
    “I know. I’m sorry. But Mel, you saw Butch at my kitchen table. Poor kid was about to faint at the sight of his own blood. Can you really imagine him doing something awful like that to somebody else?”
    Mel shrugged. “Maybe that’s what he was really faint about. Nobody saw his ‘accident’ with the handrail. We only have his word.”
    Shelley had been listening silently. Now she spoke. “Mel, tell us more about Jake’s death. Where did he die? Was there a struggle? Did it take a lot of strength?“
    “It doesn’t look like it took strength as much as luck to slip the knife right between the ribs,“ Mel said. “He was apparently inside the props trailer, bent over slightly, looking into a crate. The blow was probably delivered downward, almost certainly by a right-handed assailant. The blade almost certainly pierced the back of his heart. At least that’s what it all looked like at the scene. The lab work may show something else, but I doubt it.“
    “So anybody could have done it,“ Shelley said.
    “Anybody at all,“ Mel agreed. “It was easy and clean. No blood spatters to speak of. No struggle. There was a cleaning rag with blood on it on the ground near the handrail, suggesting that the assailant probably wiped the fingerprints off the knife handle and maybe held it with the rag to jam it into the underside of the railing.“
    “I can’t picture what you’re talking about... this railing,“ Jane said.
    Mel grabbed a newspaper off the end table and sketched. “The stair rail itself is just a thin piece of metal running along the top of the uprights. There’s an upside-down U-shaped piece that fits over it to make a smooth handhold. But the underneath part of the U is open. And about the width of the knife handle.“
    “But who would notice that?“ Jane asked.
    “Somebody who was familiar with the trailer,“ Mel said. “Like Butch. But to be fair, anybody might have noticed. If you were going up the steps, holding the knife in your right hand and also steadying yourself with the rail, you might be aware that your fingers were curling into a place about the size of the knife.“
    “Why did the knife have to be hidden?“ Shelley mused. “I suppose just because the murderer didn’t want to be seen carrying it around. But why not just drop it in the truck?”
    Mel shrugged. “I have no idea.“
    “Have you interviewed Butch?“ Jane asked, wondering why she was feeling so protective of the boy. She supposed it was because she’d seen an intrinsic gentleness and vulnerability in him. Or perhaps after Mike’s bad experience earlier in the day, her maternal instincts were just working overtime.
    “Not yet. He’s really pretty much of a mess. Scared to death of the responsibility that’s fallen on him, he