“We just call her Miriam. There’s no need to stand on formality around here Hank,” Neely commented.
“You don’t need to tell the Detective how to do his job,” Devers said. “He’s just trying to behave like a professional.”
“How would you know?” Neely retorted. Detective Miller held up both hands.
“That’s enough! I’m charging the next person who speaks with disturbing the peace. It’s my peace your disturbing, but I’ll make it stick long enough for one of you to cool your heels in the County hoosegow.” I tried to keep from smiling, but the detective’s use of that term hit my funny bone.
“Hoosegow?” I whispered before I could stop myself and then giggled. Neely snorted.
“Is that word even in the Merriam-Webster dictionary?” Joe asked. When I burst out laughing, it set off a round of guffaws. Devers smirked, but the rest of us roared with laughter—even the detective. Poor Edgar was sucking in big gulps of air from that tank again.
“Uh, do you want me to place her under arrest?” Devers asked. That set off another round of guffaws.
“No. Not until we give the folks at the hoosegow fair warning that Miriam Webster is on her way.” The deputy did a double-take as if trying to figure out if the detective was serious.
“With her gang of old ladies, too. There’s lots more where these came from.” I laughed again when I realized he was serious!
“You’d better listen to the deputy, Detective. Forget about locking me up in the hoosegow because my posse will break me out of there in no time.” Devers’ mouth dropped open. He sputtered as we moved, en masse, toward the Clubhouse entrance with Hank Miller leading the way.
“You do realize that breaking the law is no laughing matter, don’t you?” Devers had both hands on his hips now that Edgar had taken back control of his cart. “Especially when we’re in the middle of a murder investigation.”
“Oh, lighten up, Devers,” Neely said. “Haven’t you noticed how skillfully the detective has rounded us all up for questioning? Let’s have lunch and let him get the interviews done. Then, he can get back to the business of finding the strangler.” Hank stopped and stared at Neely.
“I’m not grilling anyone because none of you are suspects. I’m not even taking formal statements since you didn’t witness a crime either. I would like to hear the details about finding Diana Durand’s body. I’d also like to know how you found out Diana Durand was strangled. We haven’t released information yet about how she was killed.”
“Midge Gaylord told us that after she examined the body,” Neely replied.
“She’s another of the old ladies I warned you about. An ancient Army nurse with an attitude,” the deputy interjected.
I’ll show you attitude, I thought, fighting off the urge to disturb the deputy’s peace. Instead, I tried to explain what Midge had told us.
“Nothing that Deputy Devers just said matters except for the fact that Midge is a nurse. She recognized petechiae and other signs of strangulation on the victim.” Hank nodded, acknowledging what I said as if I’d settled the matter.
“Let’s keep it quiet for now, okay?” Hank asked. He got a round of yesses in response, from everyone except the deputy.
“Do you really believe these old codgers are going to keep their mouths shut about a woman being strangled?” Devers asked in a booming voice.
“Why don’t we give you a megaphone and you can make sure everyone at Seaview Cottages hears you?” Neely asked. “He just said keep it quiet.”
“Hank was speaking to you civilians, not to me.”
“Well, I’m speaking to you, now, Darnell. If you can’t keep your voice down, you can wait for me in the patrol car.” The deputy’s mouth opened but he kept quiet. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves by characterizing Edgar or anyone else as a suspect either.”
“It’s okay, Detective. I’ve got an alibi. My nephew, Howard, spent the night at my place as he often does,” Edgar said. “I didn’t do it and I doubt anyone else here at Seaview Cottages did it either.”
“Unless it was the guy in the golf cart Miriam and Neely caught spying on the Writers’ Circle Cottages yesterday.”
“What?” Hank asked Joe.
“I can explain. I’ll show you his picture too if it will help.”
“Don’t bother, Miriam. I’m sure the detective has his eye on the men Dee was dating after we broke up. She called me about a month ago asking for money. Dee didn’t bring it up, but I heard later that at least one of the men in her life was giving her trouble.”
“What men?” Neely, the detective, and I asked, almost in unison.
7 Money or Men?
“How much money?” Carl asked. He would zero in on the money angle given that he was the manager of a collection agency before he retired. I was curious about how much money Diana wanted Edgar to give her, too.
“Hang on, Edgar before you answer Carl’s question about money or ours about the men, okay? I’m going to ask if we can have lunch in a private dining room if there’s one available.” He nodded.
When we’d walked into the Clubhouse, I was suddenly aware of how conspicuous we were, even if we kept our voices down. Half a dozen people were in the lobby and they all turned to stare at us as we headed to the seating station in the Dunes Club.
Why not? Deputy Devers was with us. He stands out in his uniform and in most peoples’ memories. Midge and her pals aren’t the only ones who have nicknames for him. Soon after I arrived in the community, Midge brought me to lunch here. Someone had wiped away “Chef’s Specialty of the Day” on the blackboard. Instead it read, “Deputy’s Special Name of the Day.”
Diners had exhibited lots of creativity on the board that day. I wondered how much Hank Miller knew about his sidekick. When I stole a glance at the detective, he was watching me.
“Good grief,” I whispered to myself.
“What is it?” Neely asked.
“I know the detective said we’re not suspects, but he’s looking at me like I’m in a police lineup. Maybe he’s having second thoughts since no one else was with us when Domino and I found the body.”
“Honey, you have been married a long time, haven’t you? He’s checking you out. That’s what men do when they meet an interesting, attractive woman. Relax—as much as you can under the circumstances. He’s got a nice smile, doesn’t he?”
“I guess so.” To be honest, I had noticed his smile. Those blue eyes, too. I wasn’t going to admit it and sound like a married woman with a roving eye. “I’ll give him credit for managing the deputy well. How awful must it be to have to spend the whole day with Devers?”
“Like a lower level in Dante’s Inferno,” Neely quipped. “Hank Miller’s a saint.”
Just then Chef Tony appeared. His good humor was an instant antidote to the miserable deputy’s nastiness. Tony had worked in high-end hotels much of his life. He’d even had his fifteen minutes of fame as a personal chef to a Hollywood hottie who turned out to be a flash in the pan.
Even though I haven’t known him long, Tony strikes me as a happy, humble man with a great sense of humor. The kind of man to whom I believed I was married. A year after his death, I’m not so sure who Peter Webster really was behind his happy-go-lucky, “can-do” veneer.
“Come on, Miriam. Let me escort you and your dining companions to the Par 3 Room.” As soon as we were seated, servers handed out menus, took our beverage orders, and left. Then Tony filled us in on the daily specials.
“I highly recommend today’s special—bowtie pasta with artichoke hearts and chicken in a vinaigrette marinade. It’s served with a small salad or the soup of the day, which is a smoky roasted corn chowder. Shoo Fly Pie for dessert.” Chef Tony gave me a little smile.
“That’s one of Miriam’s recipes, I’ll bet. I’ve never heard of it being served around here,” Carl suggested.
“Yes. She tells me it’s a favorite among the Amish in Ohio and the Pennsylvania Dutch. After a slice of that pie serve
d warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, you’ll know why.”
“Ohio or Pennsylvania?” The detective asked. Hank was staring at me again in a way that made me squirm. The personal questions did, too. I tried to sound nonchalant and to keep my response light-hearted.
“Ohio. I used to work in the business office at a bakery before I retired. It seems like a crime to let all their delicious recipes go to waste. I share them whenever I can.”
“Miriam’s your prime suspect if chocolate ever turns out to be the cause of death.” Neely went on to tell them about the chocolate cake we’d eaten at dinner the night before. Tony asked for the recipe, which I promised to send him, and then left. The moment he was gone, Neely returned to the discussion about why Death by Chocolate Cake had been such an apt dessert last night.
“We needed the cake after the day we had. A strangler and a stalker on the same day.” Then she passed her phone to the detective and showed him the photo of the man on the golf cart. “So far, we haven’t figured out who he is, but our friend, Midge, is working on it. If you scroll to the next picture, you can see he’s not a stranger. In the second photo, he’s with Greta Bishop at a holiday party.” Deputy Devers took a cursory look at the man riding in the golf cart as the photo passed. Then he shrugged.
“He doesn’t look like a stalker to me.”
“Okay, maybe stalker is too strong a word. Let’s say he’s just being a nosy parker or he’s an overly exuberant looky-loo. I don’t care. Miriam says he took off in a hurry when Domino barked at him. Why would he do that if he wasn’t up to something shady?”
“Maybe he doesn’t like dogs. Especially big, noisy ones with spots all over them.” The deputy scowled as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. I felt like growling like a dog.
“That’s ridiculous! Who wouldn’t like Domino?” Neely asked.
The detective had glanced at the photo of our visitor in the golf cart, then flipped to the next photo, and peered at it. Edgar, who’d been chomping on a breadstick, swallowed, and then leaned over to check out the picture, too. He waved a half-eaten breadstick at the photo as he spoke.
“That’s Dave Winick. Dee introduced him to me at the dinner. He’s a hotshot at the Blue Haven Resort. I figured Greta Bishop had designs on him by the way she was making a fool of herself. Maybe he has designs on Seaview Cottages and that’s why he was on the prowl yesterday.” Then we all shut up again as the servers returned with our soups and salads. They topped off our beverages and then left us alone. The door had barely shut when Deputy Devers fired a question that he must have been chomping at the bit to ask.
“Why would a hotshot with the Blue Haven Resort have any interest in this place?”
“Geez, Darnell, for most people that wouldn’t be a difficult question to answer. It’s not called Seaview Cottages for no reason. This is prime real estate even if someone bought the property, tore everything down, and started over.” It was Carl’s turn to wave a breadstick—aiming it at the smirking deputy.
“Oh, man, don’t say that! Nobody’s getting near the Chandler Cottage after the upgrades I’ve put into it. The golf course is in excellent condition now, too.”
“Since Dave Winick was in a golf cart, is it wrong to assume he’d been out on the course?” Hank asked.
“No,” I said. “Joe didn’t have his name, but he told us he recognized him as part of a foursome with Greta Bishop. They headed out onto the course early in the afternoon. We’re concerned that it’s a little too much of a coincidence that he was skulking around our cottages the same day we found Diana Durand’s body nearby on Fitzgerald’s Bluff. I’m not sure how much the deputy told you about the timing of events, but we believe there’s a good chance whoever killed Diana moved the body soon after we left to call the police.”
“So?” Devers asked.
“So, Darnell, they’re worried the killer was still around, got a look at them, and is after them, now.” I nodded as the detective said that. Stated in such a matter of fact way, it sounded foolish to me, but not to Neely.
“Exactly!” She exclaimed. “Although, I’m not sure why a ruthless killer crafty enough to go back and get rid of the body, would be so obvious about tracking us down.”
“He wasn’t that crafty, or the body would have disappeared completely,” Carl asserted. “Even though Edgar’s made it clear Dave Winick knew Dee, it’s hard to imagine he’s the culprit. If what Edgar says about his bigwig status with Blue Haven is true, he must be a smart guy. I don’t like coincidences, but I doubt he was taking pictures of your cottages because he’s got murder on his mind.”
“Smart guys can be too smug for their own good, and bigwigs too big for their britches,” Edgar said.
“Is that a quote from Mark Twain?” Joe asked.
“Nope. That’s all me.”
“I don’t get it. What makes you so sure the killer was still around?” Devers asked. I bit my lip and resisted the impulse to chew the deputy out for not being more concerned about what had happened yesterday. It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway given how oblivious he still was to the implications of the issues we’d raised. Instead of grousing, I went through the sequence of events as they’d unfolded the day before. Neely helped me estimate the time at points along the way.
“That’s a tight timeframe, Detective,” Neely said once I’d finished the rundown. “The killer couldn’t have been too far away to be able to get rid of the body before we all showed up again with Devers.” Hank nodded.
“Domino seems like a great dog. Did he…”
“She,” I said, correcting the detective.
“Did she do anything to suggest someone was nearby when she found the body?” A little shiver ran through me as I recalled events—including an incident I’d overlooked.
“I didn’t realize it at the time, but when she barked frantically, I did notice something. Her barking is what drew Midge and the women out walking with her to us. I assumed Domino had heard them higher up on the trail and that’s what set her off. Or she was just agitated, sensing my shocked reaction to the body she’d found.”
“Did you hear or see anything else before the women arrived?”
“No, but I did catch a hint of a fragrance. I figured it had come from perfume the dead woman was wearing. Now that I think about, though, it was on the breeze coming from behind me.” That shiver returned.
“Maybe one of the walkers wore it.”
“No, Deputy. If that were true, I wouldn’t be bringing it up now,” I snapped, as the urge to growl at him returned.
“Marty’s allergic to heavy fragrances,” Neely explained. “I’m talking about Marty Monroe, Detective. She must be on the list of names Devers gave you.” Hank scanned the list and nodded. Then Neely continued. “Her allergies were one reason she retired as a buyer. She got to the point that she couldn’t handle all the odors coming from cosmetic counters in department stores. We never wear anything like that around her. It’s no big deal for me anyway. I didn’t pick up the habit of wearing perfume, even though I worked with lots of people who promoted fragrances as well as cosmetics when I was a makeup artist.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Neely. I can’t stand the stuff now that my lungs don’t work as well as they did. Dee quit wearing it around me too. Maybe she picked up the habit again after we quit seeing each other, but I think you’re on to something, Miriam. Dave Winick was wearing an after shave or cologne or something smelly when I met him. Maybe it was him hiding out there behind you on the bluff.”
“Could Dave Winick have been one of the men Diana was dating after you broke up with her?”
“I don’t know. When I asked about him, Dee told me he was ‘an old short-burning flame.’ By the way he responded to Greta’s flirting, I took Dee’s word for it and bought her story. Remember, I’m an old fool, though, so who knows?”
“You said ‘men,’ Edgar. I take it there was more than one man in Diana Durand’s life after you?” Edgar nodded in response to the
detective’s question. Before he could speak, the servers were back with our meals. When the door closed behind, them Joe added his two cents’ worth to the conversation.
“It’d take more than one man to make up for Edgar, wouldn’t it?” Joe asked and then dug into the enormous burger they’d brought him.
“Yep. I’ve seen her around town several times with different men. She seemed happy as a clam from what I could tell. Alf and Alyssa told me they saw Dee with some guy, though, when that wasn’t the case. They were in the parking lot near a restaurant at the Blue Haven Resort. You know, the one with ocean views.”
“He means The Oceano Room,” Joe explained. “It’s pricey and the food isn’t any better than Tony’s.”
“I won’t disagree with you about Tony’s cooking. Anyway, that’s the place where Alf and Alyssa Gardener told me they saw her arguing with a man. Then, he grabbed her by the arm and she slapped him. She stormed off, got into her car, and tore out of there, or they would have called the police.”
“Wow! Edgar’s right that you should be checking out her new boyfriends. If they got into a physical fight in public, an argument could have been much worse if it happened out on the bluffs alone late at night or early in the morning,” Carl said.
“Who was he?” I asked.
“They didn’t give me a name, but they said he was a big guy with almost no hair. Rough-looking. He had a scar on his cheek and a wrecked ear that sounded to me like what you’d see on a boxer or street fighter, maybe.”
“Okay, so that’s definitely not Dave Winnick,” I muttered, feeling relief and disappointment at the same time. I realized how much I hoped we’d bring closure to this mess in a hurry. I’d ditched our usual walk to the beach and stayed in the Writers’ Circle neighborhood this morning when I took Domino out for her walk. Even that had felt uncomfortable thanks to Dave Winick’s unwelcome visit.
“Did they hear what the argument was about?” Hank asked.
“Money.”
“How much did he want? Maybe she borrowed money from the wrong people and the guy was in a more disreputable side of the collection business,” Carl suggested.
A Body on Fitzgerald's Bluff Page 7