"Walter died from a hypoglycemia coma due to insulin shock. Apparently, someone injected him with insulin after they sedated him with the chloroform. He may have known the intruder, and therefore didn't make any noise when he saw him or her come into the parlor. The perpetrator no doubt knew we were in the house and wanted to commit a silent murder so as, not to alert us. This would allow him time to sneak out of the house and make a clean getaway, which is exactly what happened. Granted the inn is immense, but we still would have heard Walter shout or scream. He was probably unconscious before he even realized what was happening. A low blood sugar reaction can cause great confusion along with lightheadedness."
"Yeah, and he was alone in the parlor most of the day," I said. "We only popped in there occasionally with a group of kids."
"Yes, and think back, Mom. No one but Walter had been in the parlor for over an hour. We had shut the place down for lunch, and you and I had a sandwich in the kitchen and spent the rest of the time rearranging the props in the library and on the back porch."
"I guess someone could have sneaked in the front door and gone into the parlor while we were busy in the back of the house," I said. "It is a huge house. Still, we should have heard any noises coming from the parlor from where the kitchen is located at the back of the house."
Wendy nodded. "But like I said, if Walter knew the intruder and didn't view him or her as a threat, he wouldn't have any reason to shout out. And it wouldn't have taken but a matter of seconds to sedate and inject Walter with the insulin. It was probably a very large dose that took only a matter of minutes to take effect."
"Yes, I guess you're right. Was there anything else interesting you discovered in the autopsy?"
"No, that's about the size of it, although the cause of death is fairly substantial. Isn't that enough to satisfy you for now?"
"Uh-huh. Okay then. Bye, honey," I said, practically hanging up on her in my haste to go tell Stone the news. The subject of doing a little investigating of our own was about to be broached again. Walter's death was officially a homicide.
* * *
Sitting at the kitchen table with Stone at dinnertime, I found I had very little appetite for the corned beef and cabbage I'd prepared. Normally, it was one of my favorite meals. Even my much beloved asparagus just got pushed around on my plate, as I thought back to what had happened earlier in the day. While fixing supper, I'd called the hospital to check on Melba's condition and was told she was resting comfortably, under heavy sedation.
I needed to have a reason to leave the inn tomorrow. Stone had indicated he didn't want to be personally involved in the investigation, and I knew he genuinely was busy maintaining the inn and the lawn. He'd also made it clear he wasn't happy about my desire to do a little snooping and prying, so it would be best to keep my own involvement in the case to myself as much as possible, to avoid causing Stone undue stress and anxiety.
Stone had been very open to helping me investigate two murders in the past, but after my life had been threatened in a variety of ways the last time around, he was no longer as willing to get involved as he'd once been. And he didn't want me involved in any way at all, but he knew he couldn't force his will on me, so he tried pleading with me instead. That was only effective to a certain degree.
I caught my reflection in the highly polished serving bowl in the center of the table and realized it was time to have my short brown hair permed again. The span between perms seemed to be getting shorter and shorter. There were still quite a few blond highlights left in my hair, at least. Getting my hair permed would give me a viable excuse to be out and about.
As I looked back up, I caught Stone staring at me. He had noticed I was deep in thought. "Are you thinking about Walter, like I am?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, not wanting to admit I was thinking about making an appointment for a perm. I liked to let Stone believe I was very low-maintenance, even though the maintenance routine was getting more and more complex with each passing year.
Fortunately, Stone was pretty unobservant when it came to my appearance. I could have been wearing a do-rag and an eye patch for all he noticed. Thank God he loved me for all the right reasons and not just my physical appearance. At five-foot-two and 125 pounds, I wasn't exactly model material. But Stone wasn't David Beckham either, and I was glad he wasn't. Excessively handsome men could be excessively vain too, and I loved Stone exactly the way he was: warm and caring, and sensitive to my needs.
"I can't get Walter off my mind," Stone admitted. "I feel so damned bad about him getting killed right beneath our very noses."
"You were outside most of the morning. Did you see anything unusual?" I realized the detectives had already asked him these same questions, but I was hoping to jog a memory he might have forgotten.
"I don't recall anyone pulling into the driveway at around the time of the murder, but then I was in the garden shed out back, tweaking the engine on my lawn mower," Stone said between bites of the new potatoes he was eating. His appetite had not been affected by the untimely death of Walter Sneed. "I did find out, however, that as the mail carrier was dropping off our mail, he spotted someone dressed in dark clothing leaving the front yard on foot. He said the person cut through the hedges into the yard next door as if to get out of sight as quickly as possible."
"How did you find out about that?"
"The mail carrier mentioned something about it to Willard next door when he went up to the house to deliver an Express Mail package. I've already phoned Wyatt to tell him about it."
"Would the mailman be able to give a description of the person or make an identity?" I asked.
"I doubt it," Stone said. "He was busy and didn't think much about it at the time. According to Willard, he only recalled the dark clothing, and that the person seemed to be in a hurry."
As I cleaned up the dishes after supper, Stone watched the television in the front room. He called me into the living room when a piece on Walter's murder was being shown on the evening news. The reporter didn't mention the presumed cause of death or give any other useful information. I'm sure releasing too much information to the public could impede the investigation process, so I was not surprised at the lack of details. I felt a new sense of grief when they showed Walter's senior high school photo. He seemed so young and innocent, like a young man looking forward to a whole life ahead of him. And I knew from talking to him that he'd had a full and rewarding life planned for himself.
I went to bed early that evening. The emotions of the day had left me exhausted. Tomorrow I would begin to see if I could find out something that might lead to the killer. I would be as low key as possible about it, so as not to worry Stone. He had enough on his plate as it was.
Chapter 4
I called the hair salon early the next morning and was delighted to discover I could get an appointment for eleven o'clock. This appointment would serve two purposes. It gave me a reason to drive downtown, and also I wanted to look good for Walter's funeral, which I knew Stone and I would be expected to attend. But then, I wouldn't miss it for the world.
In the meantime, I wanted to visit Melba in the hospital and see how she was doing and, yes, ask a few prying questions. I don't know what it says about our society, but when a murder occurs, the first suspects who come to mind are those people who were closest to the victim—the spouse, lover, children, and even parents. I can't imagine how a mother could drown her own children in a bathtub, but it happens.
* * *
"Can you tell me what room Melba Sneed is in, please?" I asked the receptionist at the information desk. She had a phone in one hand and was pulling something up on her computer screen, using a wireless mouse, with the other. She looked harried and perturbed. She didn't turn to look at me, and I wasn't even sure she'd heard me.
After gazing at her computer screen for a few more seconds, she sighed and replied, "Just a second."
She pulled up a new screen, ran her finger down a list, and said, "She's in the psychiatric ward,
room four-sixty-four, ma'am."
"Thank you."
I made my way to the elevators, wondering what I was going to say to Melba, particularly knowing how distraught she was following the news of her son's untimely death. As I neared her room on the fourth floor, I could hear her shouting at a nurse. "I've got to get out of here! What's the matter with you people? Get away from me, lady, before I have to hurt you! Let me talk to the warden!"
I could hear the nurse talking slowly and soothingly to Melba as I entered the room. Melba was clearly not sedated today, at least not yet. The nurse looked at me and shrugged as if to say, "Good luck," and then walked out of the room.
"Melba," I said, "I'm Lexie Starr. I've come to see how you're doing. Is the staff here taking care of you adequately?"
"Get the hell out of my room, unless you're here to release me!" she yelled.
"I just might be able to do that if you will answer a few questions for me." I was lying, of course, but my words calmed her down instantly. This might be her ticket out of here, I'm sure is what she thought.
"I was very fond of your son. Walter was temporarily working for us at the Alexandria Inn to earn a little extra cash."
"Doing what?" Melba said, with indifference in her voice.
"We were hosting a haunted house at the bed and breakfast my partner, Stone Van Patten, owns, and Walter was portraying a vampire lying in a... er, in the, uh, well... lying in the parlor." Oh my, "lying in a coffin" did not sound like an appropriate thing to say at a time like this. Fortunately she didn't delve any deeper into what her son was doing lying in our parlor.
"Well, whoever you are, I'm glad you are here. Go tell the warden I demand to be let out of here right now! And get me my lawyer while you're at it. I think I might just have to sue somebody."
"Melba, dear, you are in the hospital, not prison. And I don't think you have any need for a lawyer, at least not at this juncture," I told her. "You were very shaken up after the news of your son Walter's death, as anyone would be."
"That unappreciative scamp is no son of mine. If he were, he'd be here right now talking to the warden for me. I never could count on that sorry excuse for a son."
"But he's gone, Melba. He suffered a tragic and untimely death yesterday. I'm sure he would be here if at all possible."
"Yeah, right."
"By the way, Melba, do you know of anyone who would want to kill your son? You surely wouldn't harm your own child in any way, would you? Do you know anyone who might have had a grudge against him?" I asked.
"Oh, sure. Who doesn't? I'm a little mad at him myself. Where is that boy, anyway? He should be here helping me. What kind of no-account son is he, anyway?"
It was obvious Melba had a severe mental deficiency. Just how incapacitated was she? I wondered. Could she, in a moment of pure oblivion, perhaps, have done something dreadful to her own son? No, surely not. Once again I wondered how any mother could hurt her own child. I'd slash my own wrists before I'd harm a hair on Wendy's head. And I'm sure the same is true of most mothers. Usually there's no stronger bond than between a mother and her child. But there is always an exception to every rule.
"Say, Melba, where were you yesterday before noon? You don't happen to be diabetic, do you?" I asked. Someone once told me, you should leave no stone unturned when investigating a crime. This theory had worked for me before, so I thought I'd utilize it again. "Have you ever been to the Alexandria Inn? Did you happen to stop by there yesterday? Where were you at about eleven yesterday?"
Melba didn't respond, just looked at me with a hollowness in her eyes I couldn't describe. I felt like I was talking to a hamster. Why did I even bother to ask questions? Melba wouldn't know where she was yesterday if she didn't even know where she was at the moment. I told her to get some rest and left the hospital. My hair appointment was in fifteen minutes.
* * *
Finding a parking spot on Main Street near the Klip Joint was next to impossible, so I parked two blocks down the street in front of a nail salon. It was a beautiful autumn day, great for walking. Before I drove off, I would stop in the nail salon and make an appointment for a manicure and pedicure. I'd only recently started having my nails done. In years past, I never even polished my own nails unless it was for a very major occasion. The day I married Chester was actually the only time I could remember offhand.
I was never this high-maintenance before Stone came into my life. Now I even got my teeth cleaned twice a year, like my dentist recommended. What had happened to the lackadaisical lifestyle I'd come to know and love? Sometimes I actually missed it. Being in love could be very exhausting and time-consuming. It could also be a little expensive at times. It was fortunate for me Chester had invested wisely before his death.
I was happy to see Beth was working today; she was my favorite hair stylist at the Klip Joint. Most of the time I had my hair done in Shawnee by a stylist I had used for years. I agreed to wait for Beth to finish up the customer she was currently working on. It looked like the customer was only getting a wash and style.
I grabbed a People magazine and took a seat next to a heavy-set woman about my own age in the waiting area. I needed to catch up on all the celebrity gossip in Hollywood, and the scandals going on in Washington, D.C., not to mention the current fashions, as if current fashion trends would ever affect my jeans and t-shirt wardrobe. In this new high-maintenance routine of mine, I drew the line at giving up my comfortable clothing.
"How are you today?" the heavy-set woman asked.
"Fine," I answered politely. "And you?"
"Not too bad. I'm here for a cut and style. I have a wedding to go to tomorrow. It's in Leavenworth, you see. My nephew is finally getting hitched to this woman he's gotten knocked-up. I didn't think I'd live to see the day he'd bite the bullet and settle down with a wife and kid."
She laughed, so I smiled back at her in return. It was obvious I wasn't going to be able to read the magazine any time soon, so I took a deep breath and replied, "How nice. I'm here to get a perm. My name's Lexie, by the way. It's nice to meet you."
"I'm Nadine. It's nice to meet you too, Lexie. Say, did you hear about that Sneed boy? Melba's son? I heard at the pharmacy he died, or was killed or something."
"Yes, you're right. Yesterday, about this time in fact. It happened at my boyfriend's inn, actually," I told her, for no good purpose. Too late it occurred to me it would be better to leave the inn entirely out of it. Telling Nadine anything might be akin to telling the story to the town crier. She obviously enjoyed gossiping, and spreading rumors was probably one of her favorite pastimes.
"What happened to him? Was he murdered?" Nadine's voice rose an octave as her second and third chins rippled dramatically.
"It looks that way," I admitted. "The autopsy showed evidence of foul play, though no one can fathom a motive. Who would want to kill a nice young man like Walter?"
"Maybe that long-time, slutty girlfriend of his, Chelsea—no, I think it's Cindy, or something of that nature. I heard their relationship has been shaky recently."
I laid my magazine down on the table, no longer interested in who was sleeping with whom in Hollywood these days. Nadine seemed to have an inside track to the local grapevine, and I wanted to pump her for as much information as I could before Beth called me back to the shampoo basin.
"Tell me more." I turned toward her to give her my full attention.
"Well, they'd been going together for over three years, I take it, when this girlfriend found out Walter had gotten hooked up one night with one of her archenemies."
Archenemies? Who was this girl? Cat Woman? Nadine was being a little melodramatic, but I encouraged her to continue.
"A nasty breakup ensued, as you can well imagine. Both girls were on the cheerleading squad at the community college and ended up getting into a catfight right in the middle of campus. God, I would have loved to see that one," Nadine said. I could see she thoroughly enjoyed passing on the scuttlebutt she'd collected through gossip. Wh
ether or not there was any truth to what she was telling me remained to be seen. Still, I kept pumping.
"And then what happened?"
"Then Walter cut off ties with both of them and went out with yet another coed at the college, pissing both of the girls off. I heard this other date was with a girl named Roxie Kane. I know the girl's mother. In fact, I think Roxie's mother used to cook at the Red Rooster Cafe downtown. But, anyway, last I heard, this Cindy gal and Walter were trying to work things out."
"Do you know how I can find out the names and addresses of either or both of those girls you mentioned?" I asked. I could hear Beth calling my name from what seemed like a million miles away. I continued to look into Nadine's eyes with intensity.
Who knew I could obtain such valuable information at the hair salon?
"Huh? Why would you want to do that?" She asked.
"Lexie, I'm ready for you now," Beth called.
I waved my hand in a "just a moment" gesture and said, "Well, uh, I'm somewhat involved with the investigation, you see. It did happen at my boyfriend's inn, you know, which makes me intimately involved. I'd like to speak with the girls, if possible. I've been known to help the police department solve crimes before."
"Lexie—" I heard in the distance. Beth could be so persistent and impatient.
"Oh, I see. No, I'm afraid I can't tell you their names or addresses. I don't really know any of them. But I do know the cheerleading squad practices on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings in the college's gymnasium."
"Thanks, Nadine." Bingo! I got the answer I needed on how I might locate this Cindy gal, Walter's long-time girlfriend.
"Good luck, Lexie," Nadine said as I walked back to the washbasin.
* * *
I made a nail appointment for later in the week, and then drove around the college campus on my way home. I found the gymnasium without any problem. Tomorrow was Saturday, and I planned to get up bright and early so I wouldn't be late for cheerleading practice. I'd been a high school cheerleader myself, but that now seemed a hundred years ago. I hadn't gone on to college, marrying Chester right out of high school. We'd begun dating in ninth grade, so Stone was really only the second man in my life. And there had been a long, dry period in between them. I'd been reluctant to start a relationship with another man, but I couldn't help falling in love with Stone. A widower himself, he had felt the same way. We hadn't gone looking for love; love had come looking for us. Now I was extremely glad it had found us.
Lexie Starr Cozy Mysteries Boxed Set Page 39