Into the Frying Pan

by Sarah Osborne

  “You’ve told the police all this.”

  “Yes, but I have no proof.”

  “You said blackmail. Was money disappearing?”

  “Carl handled the money, so I don’t know. He could be extravagant, buy me a diamond necklace or himself a vintage car. We always seemed to have enough money, so I never worried.”

  “If someone was trying to blackmail your husband, do you know why?”

  “No.” She stood up. “He was a good man. There was no reason why anyone would threaten him. I didn’t mean blackmail. I meant more that someone was threatening his life. I have to go.”

  I followed her downstairs and out the door to her car. Andy came behind me. “Kathy, you decided to come. I’m really glad. I’ll be at the service on Friday.”

  Kathy let Andy hug her and then burst into a new flood of tears. “I have to go,” she said. She turned to me. “I did mean what I said to you upstairs, I do want your help.”

  Andy helped Kathy into her car, and then walked with me back to the house.

  “She wants your help?” Andy asked me. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Why would she want your help?”

  “I’m not really sure what she meant by that.” I also wasn’t sure what part of her story might be the truth.

  Chapter Nine

  When we got back to the house Danny was standing between Phil and Ryan, one arm pushed against Ryan and the other blocking Phil.

  I looked around for the children and Mason. They and most of the guests were outside as the temperature had finally started to cool off.

  “What in the world—?”

  “I got it, Ditie,” Danny said. “You should check on your other guests.”

  The handful of people who remained in the house weren’t going anywhere, and I wasn’t either.

  “What’s this all about?” I asked, looking at Phil and then Ryan.

  “A misunderstanding,” Phil said.

  Were the two of them drunk? They didn’t act like it.

  “You two done?” Danny asked.

  Phil turned away. “I am.”

  Ryan still looked angry. I remembered how quickly he lost his temper in med school. He was always insecure and got bent out of shape if he ever thought someone was making fun of him. So, had Phil humiliated him in some way?

  Danny took Ryan by the arm and led him out to the front porch for some air. I followed behind. Danny made him sit on the swing.

  “Cool off, man,” Danny said.

  Ryan looked up at me and colored. “I’m sorry, Ditie. I didn’t mean to spoil your party.”

  I heard a burst a laughter from inside the house. “It doesn’t sound like you did. What happened, Ryan?”

  “Phil can’t keep his hands to himself. I saw him outside, cornering Harper near your fish pond. I lost it. I’m sorry.”

  I looked at Danny.

  “Later,” was all he said.

  “Let me get you some iced tea, Ryan. You want me to find Harper?’

  “I’ll take the tea. Harper can find me if she wants to.”

  Danny followed me into the kitchen. “If you want to know who was cornering whom, I’d say it was Harper all over Phil and not the other way around.”

  “Oh.”

  Harper had always been a tease. Ryan knew what she was like, but he’d married her anyway. I assumed they’d worked things out, but maybe not.

  I brought the iced tea and sat beside him in the swing.

  “I feel bad,” Ryan said. “I’m not like this, honestly. I think what happened to Carl upset me more than I realized, and I can’t talk to Harper about it. She says she doesn’t want to hear.”

  “If you want, you can talk to me.”

  Ryan sighed. “I was standing across from Carl on the other side of the cannon when it happened. My back was turned when the gun exploded, but when I turned around, I saw more than I wanted to—Carl was down, and the cannon was lying in pieces. Smoke everywhere. One minute he’s standing there smiling and the next minute he’s…dead.”

  “I’m sorry, Ryan.”

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes as if he were trying to erase the image.

  “Phil said he was supposed to be the one pulling the lanyard,” I said.

  “They did switch positions at the last minute. I didn’t know why. I was the one tamping in the powder.”

  “And you didn’t notice anything unusual about that?”

  “Nothing. But I’d never done it before, and I assumed it was mostly for show.”

  I patted his arm, and at that moment Harper appeared.

  “You two look cozy,” she said.

  I jumped up and offered her my seat. “I have to check on the rest of the guests. It sounds as if Saturday was pretty horrific for Ryan.”

  “For all of us, don’t you think?” Harper said.

  “Of course. But you weren’t actually near the cannon at the time of the explosion.”

  “No. I was on the sidelines, but it was still ghastly.”

  “Did anything unusual happen before the battle started?” I asked Ryan.

  “We were all milling around,” Ryan said, “trying to find our station and get clear on what we were supposed to do.”

  “I planned to sit out the battle,” Harper said, “once Phil told me I wasn’t needed. On Saturday, I’ll be part of the cavalry.” She shook back her blond hair the way a horse might toss back its mane. “I’ve got my horse stabled north of the city.”

  “You can bet I’m not going,” Ryan said.

  “You can’t let one horrible accident turn you into a coward,” Harper said.

  “You couldn’t pay me to come.”

  “I know that’s how you feel now, but you’ll get over it. I’ve already told Phil that we’ll be there.”

  “Is that what you were doing down by the fish pond—talking about the next reenactment?” Ryan couldn’t hide his distress.

  “I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and Phil, but there was nothing to see.” She said this more to me than Ryan. “We were having a laugh. I nearly fell into the pond and Phil caught me.”

  Ryan looked at her as if he wanted to believe her.

  She took his hand. “Baby, you know me. I’m outgoing, not shy like you. You have to remember who I go home with. The reenactment next weekend will erase all these bad memories. I’ll take Bullet and let him get some exercise. You could use a little exercise yourself.”

  “I got into this for your sake, you know that, Harper. You said it’d be great fun to relive the Civil War for a weekend or two. It’s been anything but fun.”

  “Give it one more try. If you hate it, I won’t ask you to come again.”

  Harper jumped up as I headed back into the house. “Let me help you, Mabel. I’m sure there’s plenty to do inside.”

  I gave her the task of serving the Ozark Pudding while I brought out the ice cream. It didn’t take long for the word to get out and a line to form around our dining room table. Lucie and Jason turned up beside me eager for a bowl of ice cream. Mason stood behind them. I sent the two of them off with ice cream and gave Mason a big bowl of the pudding.

  “Maybe you could help them get settled into bed after you finish dessert,” I whispered to him.

  He nodded and led the kids upstairs to my bedroom away from the mayhem that was still going on downstairs.

  Phil stopped by to say how great the party was. “I’m sorry you had to see that altercation with Ryan. He gets so strung out sometimes.”

  “He seemed to think something was going on between you and Harper.”

  “You know Harper. She’d flirt with anything on two feet.”

  “He’s also really upset about Carl,” I said.

  “I know. It was a shock for all of us.”

  “What made you let Carl
pull the lanyard?” I asked. “You hated the guy.”

  “I’ve already told you. He was so eager to do it—I let him.”

  Did he know how unbelievable that sounded? I looked at him, and he didn’t meet my gaze.

  “You said you wanted the party to end at eight thirty. It’s past that now. You want me to get them out for you?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Phil wandered to each small group, saying he was paying for a round at the Highland Pub in half an hour. That got their attention.

  Frank was the first to leave. “You should open up a restaurant, Ditie, with good Southern food. Give up this pediatric stuff. You’d make a million.”

  I smiled. I wasn’t a Southerner, but I’d learned the art of being gracious to guests. I wouldn’t be seeing Frank again anytime soon, if it was up to me.

  Andy came up behind Frank and hugged me goodbye.

  “We have to get the kids together,” he said. “We don’t live that far apart. You could come for the weekend.”

  “I’d like that. The kids don’t have any cousins, so you could be our Southern connection.”

  “Great.” He handed me a card. “This has my email and cell. Be in touch.”

  Ryan and Harper were among the last to go. “Need any help cleaning up, Ditie? I’m good at that,” Ryan said. “It would let me make amends for messing up your party.”

  “Thanks, Ryan. I’ve got it covered, and you didn’t mess up anything.”

  The two of them left holding hands, so whatever tension they’d had earlier seemed to have blown over.

  “I need to get a move on,” Phil said, “or they’ll beat me to the pub. Will you come, Ditie?”

  I shook my head. “Kids tonight and work tomorrow.”

  Phil found Danny and they left together.

  When the house was finally empty of guests, I grabbed a biscuit and a glass of wine and collapsed on the sofa. That’s where Lurleen found me.

  “I didn’t see you all evening,” I said.

  “I know. I’ve been busy, listening in on conversations.” She waited exactly five seconds. “I know who our murderer is, chérie.”

  Chapter Ten

  I was too tired to bite.

  Lurleen stared at me as she shook out her wavy hair from its braided chignon. “There, that’s better. Did you hear what I said?”

  “I did. Let me have another sip of wine, and then I’ll be ready to hear all about it.”

  Mason came downstairs at that moment. “The kids are asleep on your bed. Do you mind?”

  “Mind? No. You, Mason, are my hero.”

  He sat on the other side of me and gave me a long kiss. “Even out of uniform?”

  “Especially out of uniform.”

  Lurleen dramatically raised her eyebrows. “Am I in the way here? I can leave.”

  “No.” I turned to Mason. “Lurleen was about to announce the identity of the murderer.”

  She stood up. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Please sit down, Scarlett, and tell us what you know,” I said.

  Mason also stood. “Could you wait until I get one more helping of pudding with some ice cream? It really is delicious, Ditie. Shall I bring you some?”

  I nodded. When I threw a party, there wasn’t much opportunity for me to eat.

  Lurleen tapped her foot impatiently. When Mason and I had settled back with our dessert, she asked if we were ready to hear.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You won’t like this, Ditie, but Andy Morrison is your man.”

  “Andy? The nicest guy in the room with two young children and not one nasty bone in his body?”

  “Precisely! Who in this gathering would you least expect to blow up a man with a faulty cannon?”

  “Lurleen, the least likely suspect doesn’t turn out to be the murderer in real life.”

  Lurleen looked hurt. I could see her lower lip beginning to protrude.

  “You haven’t even let me explain. I have evidence.”

  “We’re listening,” Mason said.

  “I floated from group to group and got everyone talking about what happened and who might have tampered with the cannon. They all referred me to Andy. ‘He’s the expert,’ they said. ‘If anyone would know how to make a cannon explode, he’s the one.’ ”

  I turned to Mason. “To be fair, Andy is the one most into these games next to Phil, but that doesn’t make him a murderer, Lurleen. What could possibly be his motive?”

  “Ah, I am glad you asked me that, Dr. Watson. He hated Carl.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone at the party hated Carl—the ones who knew him from med school anyway. Carl was dismissive of all of us. He especially disliked Southerners. That’s what makes it so hard to believe he was working for Phil’s father.”

  “Maybe you’d like to know what Carl Thompson was doing before he joined Dr. Brockton’s concierge business.” She didn’t wait for us to ask. “He worked with Andy for two years, and then Andy fired him.”

  Now she had my attention.

  “How do you know this?”

  “I was talking with Andy about Carl’s wife and how awful it must be for her, and he mentioned that he knew Kathy Thompson well. They’d grown up together.”

  “So what happened to make Carl leave the practice with Dr. Morrison?” Mason asked.

  “Andy was a bit vague about that. He said it was something about misappropriated funds. He wouldn’t give me any more details no matter how hard I tried to get it out of him. He said it was all in the past and dealt with.”

  “Carl Thompson was embezzling money from Andy’s practice?” Mason asked.

  Lurleen nodded. “Andy implied there was more than just missing money. He said Carl was a man who destroyed everything he touched, but he refused to tell me what he meant by that.”

  I let this new information wash over me. Could Andy actually have had something to do with Carl’s death? I knew people could hide their true selves, compartmentalize in a way even those closest to them might not see.

  Could it be that Andy had been pushed to the limit by something Carl did to him? I tried to picture my friend Andy Morrison as a murderer. He had two children he clearly adored and a practice he loved. I couldn’t wrap my head around that idea.

  Mason followed me to the kitchen where I put on a pot of decaf coffee.

  “What are you thinking?” Mason asked.

  “I can’t see Andy as a murderer.” I brought down three cups from the cupboard. “But I’d like to know exactly what Carl did to Andy. I’d also like to know who was threatening Carl.” I told Mason about Kathy’s brief visit and her accusation that someone might be blackmailing her husband.

  “You have been busy,” Mason said, “but if someone were blackmailing Carl, why would they kill him as long as he kept paying?”

  “Maybe Carl had had enough and threatened to expose the blackmailer,” I said. “But I wonder about that. I think Carl cared more about his status than money. I think he’d have done anything to protect his reputation.”

  We returned to the living room to start collecting empty glasses and plates. Lurleen was one step ahead of us. “I’ve got this,” she said. “Why don’t you put food away, Ditie, although I suspect there’s not much left. Maybe you should open a Southern restaurant. You could make a killing.”

  “Not the best choice of words. I like what I do. Cooking like this every night would take the joy out of it.”

  Mason insisted on helping Lurleen clean up as I put away food for at least one more family meal.

  When the coffee was ready, we all took a break and ate the last three tea cakes.

  I turned to Mason. “I know you were entertaining the kids, but did you overhear anything of interest?”

  “Hmm. Your Phil Brockton was glad-handing e
veryone. He didn’t seem all that upset about what happened to Carl, and he didn’t appear particularly frightened about his own welfare.”

  “He’s not my Phil, but it is interesting. With me he pleads the case that he needs protection. He claims that if anything happens in the future, it’s likely to be on the battlefield and made to look like an accident.”

  “I’m glad you’re keeping the kids away on Saturday,” Mason said.

  “Me too. I’ll have to tell them tomorrow.” I sipped my coffee. “The person I wouldn’t mind suspecting is Frank Peterson. He’s all about money. He always wanted to be the coolest person in the room—that’s how I remember him from med school. I’m surprised he and Phil stayed friends. They both wanted that particular title.”

  “You do know Harper almost married Frank before she married Ryan,” Lurleen said.

  “I heard that from Phil, but I didn’t hear why the marriage plans broke up. Was Harper fooling around?”

  “Maybe. But what I heard was that Harper had lied to Frank about one very important topic—the issue of children. She never told Frank she couldn’t have them.”

  “Lurleen, how in the world could you have learned that at a party in the space of three hours? Maybe you really are a spy!”

  Lurleen grinned from ear to ear. “You get people drinking and then it doesn’t take much to get them talking. Most of it I heard from Sally Cutter.”

  “Go on,” I said.

  “According to Sally, she and Harper were close in med school. Harper fooled around a lot and got sick because of it. She had PID multiple times and ended up unable to have kids.”

  Mason looked at me. “PID?”

  “Pelvic inflammatory disease. You can get it from multiple partners and unprotected sex.”

  “It left her infertile?” Mason asked.

  “Sometimes you can harvest viable eggs and implant them in the uterus,” I said.

  “Well, it seems Harper didn’t have that option,” Lurleen said. “Her ovaries were too badly damaged to save any eggs. She couldn’t have her own kids.”

  “Ryan, I assume, knows the truth,” I said.

  Lurleen nodded. “It’s not a secret anymore. Maybe that’s why Harper stays married to Ryan. He cares more about her than about having children.”