Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  “I’m not sure.” She thought a moment, pulling her hand away. “Eighteen. Maybe twenty.”

  To say I was astounded would have been an understatement, and I’m sure it showed on my face.

  “Katy. Only a few were amoral, evil people like your uncle. The rest were terminally ill and suffering needlessly. They begged me for release and I merely eased them along. It’s done all the time. It’s the merciful thing to do. I wish somebody could do it for me.”

  I kept my gaze focused on a shiny black beetle trudging across the patio. “Who were they?”

  “Most you wouldn’t know. Just know they were in their final days and in misery.”

  “What about Jeremy Baylor?”

  I asked because Angela had told me he’d died from a toxic mixture of cocaine, alcohol, and oxycodone. It had been assumed that he’d gotten the oxycodone on the streets. But now I was wondering if Debra had anything to do with it.

  She nodded yes. And yes to Melanie’s brother-in-law, Travis, and yes to Chad. That hit me hard. Chad was a selfish bum, but he didn’t deserve what he got. Of course, maybe my reaction was based on the Chad he had become at the hands of Debra.

  I remembered Ruby talking about the numerous recent passings at Shady Acres. I asked her about the two I actually knew. Ronald, the retired mortician. And Beverly, who had tripped over her diaper. Yes to Ronald, and no to Beverly.

  “She asked, but I thought she would recover, and go on to enjoy life again,” she said.

  “Was Nora an accomplice to these…” I stopped, unwilling to say the word.

  “Mercy coups de grâce? No.”

  I was going to say murders, but her words put a nicer spin on it.

  A tear threaded through the grooves of her withered cheek. “Please don’t tell Nora. It’s bad enough I’ve left her with the memory of your uncle’s death weighing on her dear, innocent soul.”

  “I promise.” I forced myself to look her square in the face. “When Sam and I got to Jeremy’s house, I think he was already dead. But we must have come right after you left.”

  “Yes. You did. In fact I passed you on the street.” Her latte shook in her palsied hands as she swallowed. “After knocking on the front door and getting no answer, I went ’round back and saw him through the window, sleeping on the sofa. I tapped on the glass, but he didn’t wake up. The slider was unlocked and I went in. There was a dog, a Puggle, I think, barking at me.” She stopped for a few breaths. “But Jeremy slept right through the racket. There were empty beer cans strewn about, so I assumed he’d passed out. I felt bad putting the dog in the bathroom, but I was afraid I’d have trouble doing what I came to do with it jumping around me.” Debra winced, groaning as she hunched into the pain, clutching her chest.

  I half-stood. “Do you want me to get you something?”

  “In a minute,” she gasped, holding out her coffee. “I need to finish.”

  I set her coffee on the table and waited while she worked through the pain, finally breathing easier.

  “After I put the dog in the bathroom, I looked in Jeremy’s room and saw he’d been snorting lines of cocaine. My original plan had been to use potassium chloride, but when I saw the cocaine I decided to inject him with oxycodone instead. There’s been several teen deaths in the past year from that lethal mixture, so I figured it wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.”

  I couldn’t believe we were talking so matter-of-factly about premeditated murder. “Did he suffer?”

  “No. Unlike his victim, Brittany.” Her chest whistled each time she inhaled oxygen. “Killing that boy was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done since burying my little girl. I knew how awful it would be for his parents. But at the time I thought he was infecting innocent girls with HIV. When I learned it was all a hideous joke…” She paused to compose herself. “And then Brittany killed herself because of him.”

  She hung her head, picking at a frayed edge of the blanket. “I know now I shouldn’t have gone after Chad. I deeply regret that.”

  “What I don’t get is how you tied Chad up all by yourself? He had to have put up a fight.”

  “Not really. When he saw the air pistol, he let me in. Once I had him on the bed, I had him inhale an anesthetic. He was hyperventilating at that point, so it only took a whiff to knock him out. Tying him up had not been in the plan, but the scarves were already hanging from the bedposts, so…” She shrugged. “He was only out for a minute or two, so it was a good thing that I did.”

  “In the hospital you told me you’d seen him as a patient a few times. Was that really true?”

  She shook her head. “You caught me unawares, and I made that up to cover for why I was really there. Truth is you saved his life twice, because I was there to finish what I’d bungled the first time.” She stopped to breathe. “The whole thing was a horrendous mistake. You and Heather are both strong, resilient women. Survivors. All I did was botch things for you. I’m so sorry. Please know, I never would’ve let you go to prison for it.”

  We sipped our lattes, lost in our own musings. I thought about all the miserable terminally ill people she’d helped to gently pass and realized I had no problem with that. We always say we would never let our beloved pets suffer, but yet we let our beloved humans suffer long, horrendous, undignified deaths. Because to help them pass from this life is illegal in most states.

  I know Ruby keeps a stash of leftover painkillers, tranquilizers, and sleeping pills in her freezer. Some are years out of date. She said that even though they may weaken over time, they don’t go bad. The day I found it while scavenging for ice cream, I confronted her with the plastic bag.

  “Honeybunch,” she said, unfazed. “Nowadays too many people live way past their expiration date. Rotting away in lonely misery, propped up by modern medicine administered by young doctors who don’t see us as human beings who had careers, passions, lives, loves. They see us as machines that must be kept running, no matter what. God forbid we should actually be allowed to die with a little dignity.”

  “But I don’t want you to die, Grammy,” I cried, hugging her tight.

  “As long as I’m enjoying life, neither do I.” She gave me a jab in the ribs. “I want to play with my future great-grandkids.”

  Finally I spoke to Debra. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “No. I think we covered everything.” She smiled, looking wistful, and I caught a glimpse of the healthy, pretty Debra. “It certainly is a lovely day, isn’t it? The breeze is a little chilly though.”

  “Would you like me to help you inside before I go?”

  “No. I’m enjoying the sunshine. But could you bring me a sweater? There’s one sitting on a kitchen chair. Oh, and my purse. It’s on the counter. My cell’s in it. I should check in with Nora. She worries.”

  I set the purse in her lap and draped the sweater over her shoulders. She held out her hand and I took it. “I don’t think we’ll see each other again, Katy.”

  “I know.” I gently squeezed her icy hand.

  “Your mother raised a lovely woman. Tell her I said so.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  BETTER DEAD THAN WED

  FRIDAY • SEPTEMBER 6

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  I received a group e-mail from Justin Fargate today:

  I have really sad news. Debra passed away yesterday. Nora found her and said she died peacefully in her sleep. I don’t know what the funeral plans are, if any, but I’ll keep everyone posted. We will all miss our dear Debra.

  Hugs

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  BETTER DEAD THAN WED

  SATURDAY • SEPTEMBER 7

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Today was Casey’s first soccer game. I wasn’t in the mood to go, but I’d promised the little guy I’d be there. I packed goodies for Sam and me and loaded a lawn chair and an exuberant canine soccer fan into the car.

  From the parking area, I saw Sam trying to tie a fidgety kid’s cleats. When he spied Daisy and me
approaching, he ripped away from her, laces flopping, and ran to throw his arms around Daisy.

  “Aunt Katy. This is my first real game. Are you gonna watch?”

  “You bet I am. I’m really, super excited. So is Daisy.”

  He eyed my cloth sack. “Is that snacks for me?”

  “No. You’ll get team snacks. Way better.”

  He raced off to join his team, shouting, “Yay! Team snacks.”

  I unfolded my chair and set it next to Sam’s and before I got my tush deposited, Daisy hopped in. “No, sweetie. That’s Mommy’s chair. Next time I’ll bring one for you.”

  With a great deal of attitude, she slowly hauled her carcass off the chair and lay on the grass with a “harrumph.” It’s probably a good thing she can’t talk.

  Sam plopped next to me, stretching out her spray-tanned legs. “This has been a very long morning. Casey was up at the crack of dawn putting on his uniform. Not fun making a kid wait for seven hours.”

  “No Spencer?”

  “No, and he’s heartbroken about missing this game. We had a long talk on FaceTime last night about the future. He loves flying, but he wants to quit.”

  “Is he serious?”

  She swatted a fly off her leg. “He said you only get to raise a kid once, and he’s right. I may be exhausted most of the time, but at least I’m not missing out on every milestone. And Chelsea definitely needs her dad around too, especially with her flakey, absentee mother.”

  “And if he weren’t on the road all the time, you’d have more free time to play with me, ’cause you know, it really is all about me.”

  “Duh. I know.” She pulled me into an embrace. “I have missed you, girl.”

  “Me too.” It felt good to be back in the game of life. Then I thought of Debra. “So sad about Debra, huh?”

  “Yes. Nora told me she had lung cancer and it had metastasized to her brain. I figured it was something like that. Anyway, poor Nora is devastated. They were best friends, and then for her to find her like that. I can’t even think about it. It kills me that Debra kept it to herself. Only Nora knew and even she wasn’t told until close to the end.” She brushed a tear away. “You better never die on me, okay?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” I glanced out to the soccer field. Chelsea stood between the teams, trying to get them to pay attention. “The assistant coach has her hands full. How’d you get her to volunteer to do this?”

  “I’d love to say it was her idea, but the reality is, this is how she’s paying for her smartphone privileges.”

  “You finally got her a phone? She was like the last teenager on the planet without one.”

  “I know—because I hate how her friends have all turned into cell phone zombies. Personally, I’d rather she didn’t have a phone until she’s twenty-one—but since the school has adopted a no-phone policy this year, and she has to turn it in to me every night at 8:30, I’m not too worried about her getting addicted.”

  “I gotta say, I’m impressed. Uh oh, the game’s about to start.”

  Sam scrambled to get her phone out of her purse. “I promised to send some video to Spencer.”

  Chelsea tossed a coin in the air, and Casey’s team, The Hawks, got the first kickoff.

  “Oh God.” Sam covered her eyes. “Casey’s doing the first kick. I can’t watch.”

  “You have to watch. You’re filming it. He’ll be fine. He’s good at kicking things.”

  Chelsea yanked Casey’s finger out of his nose and pointed at the ball. He wiped his snotty finger on his shorts while the other kids hovered, waiting to pounce. Swinging his leg with gusto, he tipped the ball and landed on his rear end. The ball rolled a few inches and the children went into a free-for-all, kicking at the ball and each other while Casey lay on the ground howling in humiliation.

  Daisy was suddenly faced with a dilemma. One: a ball. And two: her buddy was screaming. She bolted across the field and the ball won. Who knew she could dribble?

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  BETTER DEAD THAN WED

  MONDAY • SEPTEMBER 9

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  “I’m sorry, Ms. McKenna,” said Nina, the snotty Clunker Carnival bookkeeper. “As I’ve told you numerous times already, we’re not paying you. Just write it off on your taxes.”

  “What taxes? You have to earn money to pay taxes. You have to get paid the money you earned so you can pay the stupid taxes.”

  “Sorry.” Click.

  “Oh yeah? Well, you can just shove it,” I screamed at the dead phone.

  I poured another cup of coffee and cozied up with Daisy in our chair to ponder my dilemma. Tabitha leaped to the top of the chair and gently massaged my head while I deliberated. “I can’t afford to hire a collection agency, so I need to come up with a creative idea to get my money.”

  I thought about my redneck neighbors across the street. “Maybe they could go with me to the dealership and intimidate Nina.”

  I eased Daisy’s head off my lap and went to the front door to see if their cars were in the driveway. Randy was on his knees, planting pretty begonias along the porch. Yeah, real intimidating. As I watched him, a frazzled mother trudged by, dragging a little boy in the throes of a mega hissy fit, and it got me thinking.

  “Mmm.” I tapped my chin. “It’s wacky-crazy, but it just might work. And even if it doesn’t, at least I’ll have had some fun revenge. Now all I have to do is get Sam on board and muster up the courage to go through with my diabolical scheme.”

  I parked near the service area at Clunker Carnival. Before climbing out of the car, I turned to my compadres-in-crime in the backseat for a last-minute pep talk.

  “Okay, guys. Casey, please quit picking your nose and listen up.”

  He smeared his slimy findings on his pants and gave me his full attention. His little buddy, Jonathan, said, “When’re we gettin’ ice cream?”

  “Soon. But first we have an important job to do. Then we go for ice cream. Remember?”

  “You have’ta get your money, right, Auntie Katy? And we’re helping you because we’re big boys. Right?”

  “That’s right, Casey. And do you remember what you’re going to do while we wait for my money?”

  “We gonna play a game where we act really, really bad. Right?” He growled and they both burst into a giggle fit.

  I waggled a finger at them. “But only if I tell you to. We might not get to play the game. We’ll just see how it goes.”

  “Will we still get ice cream even if we’re not bad?” asked Jonathan.

  I kept a poker face to match the little guy’s freckled mug. “Yes. I promise.”

  I had the mothers’ permission to do this collection sting with their kids, but I think they would have agreed to anything to get a free babysitter for a couple of hours.

  Holding the sticky little hands of my A-Team, we boldly marched into the building. Inside, several people sat waiting on the worn leather sofas in the quiet lobby. I tousled Jonathan’s curly red hair, then tapped on the accounting window and waved at Nina—my nemesis.

  The stringy-haired bleached blond slid the glass aside. “May I help you?” Then her eyes narrowed with recognition. “Oh. It’s you.”

  I smiled, all super sweet. “Yup. It’s me. Here to pick up my check.”

  She leaned out, gagging me with her tobacco breath. “And I told you, we’re not paying you. When’re you going to give it up?”

  “I think you might change your mind, so I’ll just wait until you have my check ready.”

  “Not happening, sister.”

  My darling Casey loudly announced, “That lady smells yucky.”

  “You might want to teach your brat some manners.” She slammed the window.

  Oh, this is going down, you stinky bee-yatch. I pulled my team away from the window, squatting in a huddle with them. “Okay, guys. You stay here and after I sit down over there on the couch, I’ll give the signal like we practiced.”

  “Like this?” Casey no
dded vigorously, flopping his shaggy blond hair into his eyes.

  “Maybe not that hard, but you’ll know. And when I nod, what does it mean?”

  “It’s go-time.” Jonathan puffed out his chest, snarling like the Hulk.

  “And you both remember what I told you to do?”

  Casey said, “Be really, really bad and…” He furrowed his brow, scratching his head. “What am I ’posed to do?”

  “Yell, scream, throw magazines.” Was I really telling four-year-olds to do this? “Jump on the chairs.”

  “Can we jump off too?” asked Jonathan, all serious.

  “Yes. You may jump on and off the chairs. But there’s something else, really important, that I told you. Do you remember what it is?”

  Jonathan looked stumped, but Casey came through. “This is the only time we get to be bad boys. Right?”

  “You got it, buddy.” I left my crew and sat on the end of a sofa, steeling myself for the impending explosion.

  A rosy-cheeked, elderly woman perched on the seat of her red walker leaned to me. “What darling boys. You must be so proud.”

  “I should warn you. This company has refused to pay me for a job I did for them, so those darling kids over there? That’s my collection crew.”

  The dear lady shared a larcenous grin with me, patting my knee. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  “Well, it’s definitely going to be something.” I gave the boys the nod, mouthing, “Go.”

  The little guys hung back, timid. Each waiting for the other to start the game. Understandable, considering their proper upbringing. I nodded again, harder this time, looking directly at Casey. That got the ball rolling. I had released the beasts.

  The little Tasmanian devils charged at the seating area, whooping and hollering. Neatly stacked magazines on the big round coffee table were ripped and tossed. A dusty plastic fern flew into a paunchy middle-aged man’s lap.