Deadly Circumstances

by Terri Reid

  Taking her cue from Stanley, Margo nodded. “Yes, I’m wondering if perhaps they’ve moved,” she said. “I have to admit that I’m a little worried.”

  “Oh? Who are they?” Melvin asked.

  “Shirley and Frasier Koch,” Margo said.

  Melvin’s face dropped. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “But they both passed away several months ago.”

  Margo’s shocked face even impressed Rosie and Stanley. “No, they were both so healthy,” she said.

  “Well, it was a car accident,” Melvin said. “Looked like Frasier was driving a little too fast for conditions.” He shook his head. “It was a quite a tragedy.”

  “So, they’re sure it was an accident?” Margo asked.

  Melvin paused and then glanced around the room. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. “If you ask me, I’d say there was more to it,” he said. “Frasier drove those roads all the time.”

  “Really?” Margo asked. “What do you think happened?”

  “I think his son had something to do with it,” he said. “That kid was always out of money. I could see him tampering with his parents’ car.”

  “Their own son?” Margo asked. “Did the police investigate?”

  “No,” Melvin replied, sitting back in his chair. “And why would they? Just an elderly couple and a car accident. Happens all the time.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The midday sun was shining down on the front porch when Mary pulled up in front of her house. Bradley was at the police station, and Clarissa was at school. So this was the perfect time, Mary reasoned, to have a heart to heart with their adolescent ghost.

  Opening the front door, she stepped inside, closed the door behind and waited. She could hear the soft clicks coming from the grandfather clock in the hall, the subtle whoosh as the furnace started another cycle and the hum of the refrigerator. Normal sounds. Comforting sounds. Familiar sounds.

  Slipping her coat off, she laid it on a nearby chair and slowly walked through the living room. “Hello?” she called out tentatively. “Hello. I just want to talk to you.”

  “Yeah, sure, we can talk.”

  The male voice made Mary jump, and she spun around to see Frasier and Shirley sitting on the couch behind her. Shirley slapped Frasier’s arm. “I told you she wasn’t talking to us,” she scolded. “And I told you we should have used the front door. We scared her nearly to death.”

  “All these rules,” Frasier complained. “I’m dead, okay? I don’t get all the rules.”

  He looked up at Mary. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She took a deep breath and smiled. “You did startle me,” she confessed. “But, I’ve been a little more on edge lately, so it wasn’t all your fault.”

  Looking around the otherwise empty house, she shrugged and sat down on the chair across from the couch. “I was really impressed with your son,” she said.

  Shirley smiled. “He’s always been such a good boy,” she said.

  “He’s a man, Shirl,” Frasier said. “And we still don’t know for sure that he didn’t do it.”

  “You have always been blind to what’s right in front of your face,” Shirley replied, turning to face her husband. “Eddie is in grief. Eddie is doing his best to live the kind of life he thinks you would want him to lead. Can’t you for once in your life give him a little credit?”

  “I can’t,” Frasier replied.

  “What?” Shirley asked, incredulous.

  “I can’t for once in my life,” Frasier repeated sarcastically. “Because I’m dead, Shirl. Get it?”

  She slapped his arm again. “This is not the time to be funny,” she said shortly. “You need to really look at your son and see what he’s accomplished. Stop looking at what he hasn’t done and look at what he has.”

  He sighed softly and nodded. “I really want to believe that he wouldn’t do this,” he said. “But Shirl, we’re dead. If he didn’t do it, then who did?”

  “That’s my job,” Mary said. “And I will find out who’s responsible. Just be patient with me for a little while.”

  Frasier shrugged. “I thought we were being patient,” he said. “You were the one who called us.”

  Mary shook her head. “Well, actually, I was trying to get in contact with someone else. Someone who’s not as patient with me as you both are.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Shirley replied, standing up and pulling on Frasier. “We just barged in, thinking it was us. Come on Frasier, we need to let Mary get her work done.”

  “No, really, I’m glad we spoke,” Mary said. “And if you can think of anyone else who might have…” She paused, not sure how she wanted to phrase things.

  “Wanted us dead?” Frasier inserted, his voice low. “Well, that’s something you don’t think about every day.”

  Frasier stood and put his arm around his wife. He shook his head sadly. “If anyone wanted to kill us,” he said to her, “it would have been because of me, not you. I’m so sorry I took you down with me.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Oh, Fray,” she said. “I wouldn’t have wanted to live without you.”

  He hugged her quickly and then turned to Mary. “So, what should we be looking for?” he asked.

  “Well, most murders are committed for some really basic reasons: money, power, love or to cover up another crime,” she said. “So, we’ve covered the money aspect. Now think about those other ones.”

  Frasier shook his head. “We can think about them,” he said. “But I know they don’t apply. Hell, the only power I had was vice-chair of the VFW.”

  Shirley smiled up at him. “But you were going to be president,” she said. “Everyone loved you there.”

  He blushed slightly and then looked over to Mary. “We’ll think about it,” he promised. “And then we’ll get back to you.”

  He looked down at his wife. “Ready Shirl?”

  She smiled up at him. “Ready.”

  They slowly faded away, still smiling at each other. Mary sighed and leaned back in her chair, lifting her feet and propping them on top of the ottoman.

  “That was sweet,” Mike said as he faded into view, sitting on the couch.

  Mary nodded. “Yes, it really was,” she said. “And my gut tells me Eddie isn’t the killer.”

  “Are you sure your gut isn’t so filled with motherly instincts that you don’t want to see something that’s there?” he asked.

  “No,” she said simply. “I trust my instincts, even my pregnant instincts.” She paused and studied him for a moment. “Unless there’s something you know that you’re not telling me.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “No. Nothing. Nothing at all,” he said. “Just testing.”

  “Testing?” she asked, her eyes narrowing at the thought. She slipped her feet off the ottoman and leaned forward. “You really think you ought to be testing me in my frame of mind?”

  His smile faltered, and he stepped backwards. “I meant, um, brainstorming,” he stuttered. “Not testing. Never testing.” He glanced around the room. “Who said that word? Not me.”

  Grinning at him, she leaned back in her chair, put her feet back on the ottoman and nodded. “Better. Much better,” she said. “So, what’s up?”

  “I haven’t been able to have a conversation with our high school sweetheart,” he said. “I’ve tried, but she’s not in the mood to talk.”

  “That’s so strange,” Mary said. “Why won’t she let us help her? There’s obviously something that’s keeping her here.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to go,” Mike suggested. “But I don’t get it.”

  Mary sighed. “I do,” she said. “A girl’s first crush is a hard one to get over. And she really never forgets him. She’s still in love with Bradley.”

  Mike leaned back on the couch, propped his feet up next to Mary’s and laced his hands behind his head. “So, how do you feel about having another woman around the house for the rest of
your life?” he teased.

  Mary picked up a pillow and threw it in his direction. It flew through him and landed on the corner of the couch. “Mike,” she said.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Shut up.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Eddie Koch locked up his business during his lunch hour and hurried to his car. It was nearly noon, and he didn’t have much time before he had to be back on the job. He pulled down the street and headed towards the outskirts of town.

  By chance, Bradley had been on his way across town when he saw Eddie hurry to his car. He’d seen his photo when he ran the background check on him. Bradley had thought he looked like a nice guy. But, now there was something about the way he carried himself, like he was trying to hide something, that caught Bradley’s eye. He picked up the radio.

  “Hey Dorothy, it’s Bradley,” he said. “I’ve got a lead on a case I’m working on, and I’m following a suspect out of town. I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Do you want backup?” Dorothy asked.

  “No, I think I want to keep this one on the downlow,” Bradley said. “But I’ll turn the tracker on, in case you don’t hear from me for a while.”

  “Okay, be safe out there,” Dorothy said.

  “Thanks, I will,” he replied.

  Eddie’s car twisted north through downtown and then headed out on Highway 75. Bradley kept far enough behind him so he could keep an eye on him but not look like he was trailing him. Finally, Eddie turned into a long driveway that headed toward the large junkyard on Henderson Road. Bradley passed the main gate and took a secondary road that led to the back of the property. He’d have a better view from there.

  Bradley pulled the cruiser up on the hill behind the junkyard just in time to see Eddie pull up in front of the main building. He climbed out of his car and hurried through the door. A moment later Eddie, with the owner of the junkyard, walked across the lot towards another area that was gated off from the rest. The owner pulled a keychain from his waistband and opened the padlock that secured the gate. Pulling the gate wide, both men walked inside to an older model car that had obviously been in an accident.

  Bradley pulled some binoculars out of the cruiser and focused in on the car. It was the same make and model as the car Frasier Koch had been driving when he got into the accident. “I thought they destroyed that months ago,” Bradley said to himself.

  He watched as Eddie pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed the junkyard owner several bills. The owner counted the money and then shook Eddie’s hand. The owner went back to the office and left Eddie with the car.

  Through the lens, Bradley could see Eddie yanking open the car door and climbing in. For several minutes Eddie was inside the car until finally he came out, holding something in his hand. Eddie walked through the gate and then stopped and spoke with the owner once again.

  A few moments later, Eddie got in his car and drove away.

  Bradley waited until he gave Eddie enough time to drive away before he went down to the main building.

  “Hey, Chief,” Gregg Alber, the owner of the yard said. “What’s up?”

  “I just noticed that Eddie Koch stopped by,” Bradley replied. “What was that all about?”

  Gregg hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “You do realize who you’re talking to,” Bradley replied.

  Gregg smiled. “Yeah, I do and it’s not that kind of secret,” he said. “Really, it’s not a big deal.”

  “Okay. Yeah, I can keep a secret if it’s not that kind of secret,” Bradley said.

  “Well, the insurance company paid us to crush the car,” Gregg said. “But Eddie wasn’t ready to see it go. It was like his last connection to his parents. So, he asked me to hold on to it for a while.”

  Bradley nodded. “That was nice of you.”

  “Hey, I got the space,” Gregg said. “And I really feel for the guy.”

  “So, why the visit?” Bradley asked.

  Gregg shrugged again. “I guess he’s ready now,” he said. “Told me to go ahead and crush it. Actually, he said the sooner the better. Weird, right?”

  Bradley nodded. “Yeah, weird. Hey, if you don’t mind, could you not destroy the car until I get back to you? And maybe keep it just between the two of us.”

  Gregg studied Bradley for a moment and nodded with understanding. “You bet, Chief. Like I said, I got plenty of room,” he replied. “Have a good afternoon.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The VFW weekly luncheon was held at the Freeport Armory. Long tables were set out on the floor of the large meeting room, wrapped in white tablecloth paper and adorned with small centerpieces of half-circles of Styrofoam painted either red, white or blue and small American flags on dowels stuck into them.

  Stanley led the way to a table in the middle of the room. “Iffen we sit here, we can hear conversations all around us,” he said.

  Margo shook her head. “At the next table?” she asked, skeptically.

  Rosie smiled and nodded. “Most of the men here are going deaf, and they refuse to admit it,” she said. “So everyone shouts everything. It’s very easy to eavesdrop on several conversations.” She grinned. “Actually, that’s what keeps me coming back every week. The things you hear will shock you.”

  Chuckling, Margo took her seat in the metal folding chair next to Rosie and across the table from Stanley. “Well, this ought to be interesting, if nothing else,” she said.

  Dozens of people filed into the room, some by themselves and others as couples, taking their places at the table. Most greeted Stanley and Rosie warmly and welcomed Margo eagerly. A few minutes after they were seated, Melvin hurried over to the table, placed his coat over the chair next to Stanley’s and smiled at the ladies. “I’ve got news for you,” he said. “But my responsibilities come first.” He rolled his eyes in mock weariness. “A president’s job is never done.”

  After he hurried away, Margo turned to Rosie. “He’s the president?” she whispered. “I have to admit that I’m a little surprised.”

  Rosie leaned towards her friend. “Well, although he has an odd sense of humor, he does seem to enjoy doing volunteer work,” she replied softly.

  “I guess it takes all kinds,” Margo said, shaking her head.

  Rosie chuckled softly. “Yes, it does.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Melvin’s voice boomed out over the screechy P.A. system. “Welcome to the Freeport VFW luncheon. We’d like to welcome any visitors who are with us today and hope you enjoy yourself.”

  An elderly man in a walker made his way slowly up the aisles between the tables. He pulled out the chair on the other side of Margo and sat down.

  “Howdy,” he said loudly, his voice echoing throughout the room. “You a visitor?”

  Margo nodded and smiled.

  “Now for the announcements,” Melvin said.

  “What’s your name?” the old man shouted, drowning out Melvin.

  Embarrassed, Margo turned to him with a finger over her lips. “Shhhh,” she pleaded.

  “What’s that you say?” the old man asked. “I couldn’t hear you.”

  Desperate, she turned to him. “Margo,” she whispered quickly. “My name is Margo.”

  He smiled. “Margaret,” he said. “My late wife’s name was Margaret.”

  Rosie leaned towards Margo and whispered in her ear. “No, it wasn’t,” she said. “It was Lois.”

  Margo nearly snorted. “Nice to meet you,” she whispered.

  “Can’t hear you,” the old man shouted. “Melvin’s making too much noise. Give some people a microphone and they think they can talk over everything.”

  “If it’s all right with Butch, we will now stand and sing our national anthem and say the Pledge of Allegiance,” Melvin said from the front of the room.

  Butch smiled and winked at Margo. “I get to him every time,” he cackled as he pulled himself up
to stand. “Man’s too big for his britches.”

  The room proceeded with the opening, and in a few minutes they were seated once again. “I’ll offer grace over the food,” Melvin announced.

  “We used to have a preacher come in and do that,” Butch stated emphatically. “But I guess Melvin figures he’s closer to God than any of them.”

  Stifling a chuckle, Margo bowed her head with the rest of the group and listened to Melvin’s prayer. When it finally ended, Butch looked up and shook his head. “Food’s getting cold with all this talking,” he complained. “Why don’t you sit down and let us enjoy our lunch?”

  His face red, Melvin placed the microphone on the podium and marched back to their table. “Butch” he said curtly, acknowledging the man with a nod.

  “Mel,” Butch replied with a cackle. “Have you met Margaret?”

  “Margo,” Margo corrected him.

  “She’s from…” Butch turned to her. “Where did you say you were from?”

  “Deadwood,” she replied.

  “Where the hell is that?” he asked.

  “In South Dakota,” Margo replied. “Near Mount Rushmore.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their salad plates. After the plate had been placed in front of her, Margo turned to Rosie. “Well, this is impressive,” she said. “I thought it would be buffet style.”

  Pouring her dressing over the cut lettuce, Rosie smiled. “Well, with all the canes and walkers, we decided it would be safer and quicker if we just hired the caterer to serve,” she said.

  Margo chuckled. “Good idea.”

  Melvin leaned forward in his chair and put a piece of paper in the middle of the table. “I spent the morning compiling a list of people I thought might be responsible for the…” He turned and gazed at Butch who was unabashedly listening to their conversation. “The you-know-what.”

  “You got secrets?” Butch asked. “I always enjoy a good secret.”