Murderous Heart

by Lynne Waite Chapman

  Irma jabbed at me with her index finger. “Farlow figured she probably had a heart attack, but thought better of it. He realized she probably wouldn’t have looked so peaceful. And why would she be holding the posy? Then he came up with the brilliant conclusion she shot herself. But even I could see that didn’t happen. Where’d the gun go?”

  Anita scribbled in my notebook again and glanced up. “Right, where did the gun go?”

  Anita was taking her interviewer role seriously. “What about murder? Have they looked into that?”

  Irma blinked. “Of course they looked into that. They’re cops. That’s what they think of first. Farlow told me there weren’t any obvious injuries. Couldn’t see a bullet hole, although with the corpse all dried and sort of hard, the hole would have shriveled-up.” She held up her fingers forming a tiny hole. “And it didn’t appear her head had been bashed in, like if she’d been hit with a blunt instrument.”

  Anita dropped the pen and put both hands to her face. “Head not bashed in? That’s good. You said she was dried up? Shriveled?”

  “Yep. Like an old mummy. Amos said she looked sort of like beef-jerky.” Irma slapped the table and laughed.

  “Jerky?” My friend pressed back in her seat as far as she could, then slid her chair a couple of inches away from the table. “Eew.”

  I could tell Anita was letting her imagination get away from her.

  I touched her shoulder. “You okay?”

  She whispered. “Shriveled up mummy. Beef-jerky?”

  “Didn’t Clair tell you about what she saw?” Anita gave a slight shake of her head and pressed her lips together.

  Time to leave. Anita needed air.

  “Irma, thanks for talking to us. We won’t take up any more of your time.”

  Anita’s stride wasn’t perfectly steady on the way to the mini-van. She veered off course once and had to be guided back to the sidewalk. As soon as we reached the van she leaned against the door.

  “Are you alright? Do you want me to drive?”

  Anita straightened. “No. I just needed a minute.” After some deep breaths, she managed a question. “If it was so long ago, and if the body was dri—in that condition, how will they determine what happened? You know about these things. What do you think happened to her?”

  “I don’t know about these things. The best I can do is guess, but I don’t agree with the suicide theory. There would have been a note or some sort of clue.”

  I took a moment to think. “I guess she could have poisoned herself and then crawled into the car to die. And maybe she didn’t leave a note because she didn’t have any friends who cared.”

  Anita had recovered. “You’re right, it could have been poison. But why would she decide to do it in the back of her SUV? If it was me, I’d want to be comfortable. Probably get into bed and pull the covers up so I’d look peaceful when they found me.”

  I stared at Anita for a moment. Couldn’t imagine her ever entertaining a suicidal thought. “I guess it would be a way to keep from being found right away. But why worry about that if no one ever visited? Most likely she died of a natural cause and she happened to be in the back seat of the car.”

  Anita rolled her eyes. ”And she just happened to have a flower in her hand?” She’d obviously lowered her estimate of my detective skills. “I think it was murder. Someone killed her and stuffed the body into the car to hide it.”

  We both stood silent for a minute.

  Anita glanced at me. “That doesn’t explain the flower, either.”

  I shook my head. “No. Had to be suicide. This is Evelynton. We don’t have murders.”

  Anita blew out a breath and pulled the car door open. “You’re right. There were those two times, but they were flukes. What are the chances we’d have a third killing in this little town?”

  “Slim to none.” I laughed and crawled into the passenger side. “We’ve been over-thinking it.”

  Anita turned the ignition. “You’re right, we are being silly. Call Clair and see if she has time to join us for lunch.”

  Chapter Eight

  G reat. We missed the lunch rush.” Anita snagged a prime parking spot at Burgers ‘n Bean Sprouts. The trendy little restaurant was carved from a 60’s era filling station and gave the impression Richie Cunningham and his crew might at arrive any time.

  “They make the best burgers in town, even better than Jake’s.” Anita’s eyes got big. “Oh. Please don’t tell him I said that. I let him believe his hamburgers on the grill are my favorite, and I wouldn’t want to discourage his cooking.”

  Red vinyl seats creaked as we settled into a booth, close enough to the window to watch for Clair. We didn’t have long to wait. Her black BMW kicked up dust as it flew into the lot. Two minutes later she was out of the car and striding through the door.

  Anita leaned an elbow on the table. “Explain to me how she does that in high heels. I couldn’t get up that much speed even in my sneakers.”

  Clair tossed her purse into the booth and slid in. “Glad you called, girls. I’m starved.”

  Our waitress, a fresh-faced, auburn-haired teen, passed out menus. “Hey Mrs. Corbin.”

  “Hi Tina. Love the skirt and the headband.”

  “Thanks. We’re supposed to dress like the 1960’s. I had to google it.” Tina took a breath, ready to launch into her waitress routine. She lifted a menu and pointed to the top left-hand side. “Let me draw your attention to a new menu item. We now offer veggie burgers. Totally meat-free.”

  Anita scrunched her forehead. “What do they taste like?”

  Tina cast a quick glance toward the kitchen and whispered. “I don’t know. I don’t eat anything green. The manager said I have to try one so I can be knowledgeable on all our offerings, but so far I’ve avoided it.”

  A man, who might have been Tina’s boss, stepped out of the kitchen to wipe the counter. Our waitress produced a big smile and raised her voice. “Everyone tells me they’re quite tasty.”

  “My two friends and I dipped our heads to study our menus.

  Anita ordered a beef burger with everything and an order of curly fries. “But no sprouts. And a cola, please.”

  “As tempting as a green burger is, I’ll have a grilled turkey with mayonnaise and bean sprouts. And lemonade to drink.”

  Clair put down her menu. “Cheese burger with everything, no sprouts. Curly fries and a vanilla milkshake.”

  “Good choice.” Tina gathered the menus and returned to the kitchen.

  Anita crossed her arms over her chest and leveled her gaze at Clair. “You never eat like that. What’s going on? Are you in a stressful situation? Are you eating to satisfy emotional craving?”

  Clair twisted to face Anita. “Emotional craving? What magazine have you been reading this week? I’m hungry.” She shrugged. “And didn’t have much breakfast.”

  When Anita continued to stare, Clair relented. “Maybe a little depressed, that’s all. It’s about the house. The transaction should’ve been quick and easy. I even visualized where my furniture would go. Didn’t I, Lauren? Now the sale will be tied up in red-tape forever, all because we found the body. Who knows how long it will take? Why can’t they just get on with it?”

  I shook my head. “You still want that house? After…”

  Clair shrugged. “Of course I do. The home is fine. Everything, you know the corpse and smell, was contained in the car. I’ll have the garage fumigated.”

  “That’s for bugs, like termites.”

  “Okay, I’ll have them do whatever they do to deodorize it. With the deal I’ll get on the house, I can have the interior painted and replace the carpet. It’ll be great—just like new.”

  Anita cringed. “It sounds kind of creepy, to me.”

  Clair leaned back and raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever researched the history of your house? I bet we’d all be shocked to discover what’s gone on in the buildings we live in. Especially the older places.” Clair directed her gaze to me. “Like you
r little Cape Cod. How do you know someone didn’t die there—or get murdered—before your aunt Ruth bought it? Maybe there are ghosts. Have you seen any mysterious lights drift past you in the night? Heard any odd thumping in the attic or footsteps on the stairs?”

  “Stop it. I’m not afraid of ghosts. There’s no such thing.”

  Crap. Now, when I woke up at three in the morning, I’d have something to stew over.

  Clair’s chuckle was interrupted by Tina delivering our drinks. The girl returned to the counter and almost collided with a frantic red-haired woman who had rushed in from outside. “I phoned in a to-go order. The name’s Peabody.”

  I twisted in my seat to call to her. “Hey Rarity. This is a surprise. You must have had a large gap in your schedule in order to drive out here for lunch.”

  “Oh, hi girls.” Rarity walked over to our booth. “I did have a cancellation but I normally wouldn’t usually venture all the way out here. Wallace loves their food, so I’m picking something up for him.”

  Clair took a quick sip of her shake. “You’re delivering his lunch? Now that is true love. The two of you have been dating for quite a while. When are you going to marry him?”

  A blush crept up Rarity’s neck. “He is a dear man. I don’t know what I’d do without him, but we’re only good friends.”

  My neighbor, Wallace Binion, had been reliably self-sufficient. He was always the one to offer help, not request it. I couldn’t picture him asking Rarity to go out of her way. “I’m surprised he’s letting you get his lunch for him. Is he sick?”

  “I’m a little worried. I don’t believe he’s ill, but something was strange. He called me and couldn’t remember why he called.” She smiled. “That didn’t surprise me. I do it all the time. But then he sounded strange, almost incoherent. I was worried he’d had a stroke, but then he began making sense.” Rarity fiddled with her car keys. “Well, he told me he hadn’t eaten breakfast, so that explained it. Low blood sugar. The man probably got busy working on one of his projects and forgot to take care of himself.”

  “That sounds like Wallace. With you delivering his lunch, he’ll have to sit down and eat. If you want me too, I can look in on him later this afternoon.”

  “No. Don’t go to any bother. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She took a step toward the cash register and paused to look back. “Maybe you could stop in this evening. A casual visit. Don’t let him know you’re checking on him.”

  “No problem. I’ll ask him to loan me a screwdriver or something. He’s used to me borrowing tools.”

  Rarity collected her order and rushed out to climb into her VW bug.

  Lines creased Anita’s forehead. “How old is Wallace? Things happen to older people. Sometimes they ignore warning signs and put off going to a doctor. You should definitely stop in.”

  “He’s one of the strongest men I know. Probably just forgot breakfast like Rarity said.” I leaned back in the booth. “He behaves like he’s forty but I’d guess he’s in his late sixties. It would be just like him to forget to eat. He’s fine.”

  Chapter Nine

  I scoped out Wallace’s house as I parked the Chrysler. His truck sat in its spot in the driveway. The grass looked recently mowed and trimmed. His windows were open to let in the breeze. Very peaceful and restful.

  On the other hand, I could practically hear my computer calling me to get to work. I’d been spending too much time worrying about Evelynton’s latest death and not enough about my writing. If an article didn’t find its way to my editor soon, my bank account would be short when my bills were due. Maybe I’d wander next door, later, to check on Wallace. Borrowing a tool was always and good excuse and I really could use a wrench to fix a loose hinge on the kitchen cabinet.

  Mason came at a gallop as I opened the front door. Crouching to receive a feline welcome, I almost had him in my arms before he reversed direction and dashed for the back door.

  “What kind of greeting is that?”

  My weird cat skidded to a stop in the kitchen, spun around and ran back to meet me in the dining room. I hadn’t reached him when he turned tail and loped to the back door.

  “Alright. Alright, I’m coming. What’s so important?” I made it to the door and pushed it open, fearing he’d have a heart attack if he had to wait any longer. But instead of running for freedom, Mason sat still. He perched in the doorway with his eyes on the yard.

  It was then that I saw the cause of the frenzy. “Oh my.” Branches, leaves, and a fallen tree limb concealed much of my lawn. It wasn’t so much a limb as half the tree. The old maple had hovered over the yard, providing shade in the summer and tons of leaves to rake in the fall, probably as long as the house had been there. Now a good part of it sprawled on the ground, reaching from one side of the yard to the other.

  My knees went all wobbly, and I sank to the step next to Mason. “What happened? What am I going to do with it?”

  As I considered my options, an old woman ambled down the alley. I’d seen her before in her daily walks around the block. She came to a halt at my property and scowled at me. Maybe she didn’t actually scowl. It might have been her normal expression. “That’s a mess.”

  No kidding? I hadn’t noticed.

  “You’ll have to get that cleaned up.”

  Thanks for the wise advice.

  “Yes, I sure will. It wasn’t there when I left this morning. I guess it just happ—” The woman had turned away and continued her trek down the alley, so I shut my mouth and went back to considering options.

  Number one, faithful option, Wallace. Thank goodness for the man who’d been available for advice since the day I’d moved in. He would know what to do, and he’d be happy to help.

  I hopped over branches and ducked under tree limbs on my way to his back door. When tapping received no answer, I pressed my face to the screen and peered in. About five feet away, Wallace sat with his elbows on the kitchen table. To all appearances, he was contemplating empty burger-wrappings. “Yoo-hoo. Hello, Wallace.”

  He raised his chin and his eyes widened. “Hey, where did you come from? Sneaking up on me?” He waved me in. “Don’t stand outside.”

  I stepped into his kitchen, thinking older people had earned the right to be a little strange. Maybe I’d caught him on the verge of a nap. “Sorry to barge in on you. Did you see what happened in my back yard?”

  Wallace stood and joined me at the door to follow my pointing finger. “When did that get there? I didn’t see it yesterday.”

  “Had to have fallen this morning while I was at work.”

  Wallace pushed through the door. “Let’s take a look.” Before we got off the steps, his wall phone jingled and he hustled back inside. “Hold on. Let me get this and I’ll be over. We’ll figure out what to do about that tree.”

  Sweet words. In the six years I’d been alone, being the one in charge of solving every problem had been a struggle.

  “Wallace Binion, you’re the best. Thank you so much.” I left him to his call and picked my way through branches to my porch. Mason crawled onto my lap and I stroked his head. “Nothing to worry about. Wallace will take care of it.”

  I waited, watching leaves blow around the yard. I waited, and glanced at Wallace’s back-door. I scratched Mason’s ears. “Wonder who called? I’ve never known Wallace to be so talkative. Must have been Rarity. She could talk for hours.”

  The feline jumped from my lap and ran to play on the fallen limb. I sat another five minutes before making my way back across the yard to see what had happened to my neighbor. I peeked into the kitchen. The phone was back in its cradle. The table and chairs sat empty. A shout got no reply. A call to his cell phone went unanswered.

  Leaving Wallace’s back door, I made the trek around to the front of his house and found my answer. No truck in the driveway. He’d left without telling me.

  I pivoted to return home and tripped over Mason. “It must have been an important call. Sure would’ve been nice if he’d have let me know
he wasn’t coming over.” Mason uttered a tiny peep, spun and ran to the back-yard.

  ~~

  Later that afternoon engine noise brought me to attention. Breathing a sigh, I scooped up Mason and went to the window. Wallace’s truck was home. “Don’t worry, Mason. He’ll be over now.”

  I sat on the sofa with a magazine until the setting sun cast shadows across my living room. The street lights came on. Still no help from Wallace.

  Disappointed, I gave up on my guardian neighbor, and stalked to the back porch to switch on the outside light. The scene hadn’t changed. Mason trotted past me and climbed the fallen limb.

  I wanted to scream. I stomped my foot, banged the screen door shut, and yelled at my poor cat. “You might think this is a jungle gym, but I have to get it cleaned up.”

  The cat crouched and appraised me with his round, golden eyes. “Sorry, it isn’t your fault. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of it.” I called the next person on my go-to list.

  After I’d whined to Anita for ten minutes, she said, “I’ve got it. I have the number of someone who knows how to do everything. Do you remember all the odd jobs Jake never got around to doing for me a year ago? I found a handyman named Ted, who made quick work of them.”

  I stared out the window at the back yard where Mason performed flying leaps in his new play area. He swung from branch to branch, balanced, dropped to the ground and scurried up another limb.

  “What’s his number? I’ve already had a complaint, so I need him soon.”

  “The people on your block are all really nice, but let the tree lie there very long and someone will call City Hall. Since I know Ted, why don’t I call and ask him to contact you? I’ll tell him it’s important. And I’ll even loan him Jake’s chainsaw if he needs it. That tree will be cleaned up before you know it.”

  Chapter Ten

  P ounding on the front door set my heart pumping and sent my first cup of coffee to the floor. Once I caught my breath, I grabbed a paper towel and threw it over the puddle. While stomping to the door, I toggled through a mental list of possible visitors. No one, who knew me, would be crazy enough to arrive before nine. Except Clair, but I’d declined recent early morning power-walks.