by GP Gardner
“Well, where were we? I have just a couple of items I’m not clear about, and Nita thinks you may have the answers.” He consulted his notepad. “Number one is, who called nine-one-one?”
“I’d like to back up a minute. I don’t remember if I told you this, but you should know. Travis McKenzie is my daughter Stephanie’s father. We were married for two years, twenty-some years ago and haven’t been in touch much since. And he married Lee Ferrell earlier this summer. He and I had breakfast together today. I just wanted to get that out of the way.”
Nita answered slowly. “No, I don’t think you told us that, not specifically.”
“It’s a small world, isn’t it? But Chief Boozer fills us in on some of the minor details. I think he might’ve said something about it.”
So they had known about Travis and me. I was glad to have it out in the open.
Nita had a question. “And how did Mr. McKenzie seem? I suppose he’s in shock, losing his wife so suddenly.”
“He’s afraid the police suspect him of something. I’m not quite sure what, but they questioned him extensively.”
Jim nodded morosely. “Oh, yes, the husband’s the first suspect, until he’s cleared. And you know, Cleo, he’s not always the guilty party.”
Nita and I smiled at each other.
The kitchen timer sounded and she got up. “The lasagna’s been cooling for fifteen minutes, so it’s ready to serve now. Shall we leave this discussion until after we’ve eaten?”
Jim struggled to his feet and headed for the table, wineglass in hand. “You thought Cleo would know the score, Nita. I see we’ve got the mother lode here. Bring your glass, Cleo.”
Nita had a green salad, already dressed with vinaigrette, and crisp garlic toast to go with the lasagna. We each had a generous serving and Jim followed up with half as much again, while Nita picked at her food.
“Tell me, Cleo,” he asked, “have you managed to capture the cat?”
I laughed at the idea of a capture. “She moved right in. And doesn’t object to my being in her apartment.”
Nita smiled. “I’m so relieved you like each other.”
“And I found the vet and got them to look up Ms. Flowers’ record. It seems the cat’s name is Kitty.”
“Kitty,” Jim repeated.
“Kitty?” Nita tipped her head and narrowed her eyes. “And does she come when you call her?”
“No reaction at all. Maybe my voice doesn’t sound right to her.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with Kitty,” she said, “not if you like it. But since she’s not attached to it, you could certainly change it, you know.” It was obvious what she would do.
“I think I may. Help me come up with a good name.”
“I like Kitty,” Jim said. “Direct and to the point. No doubt who you’re talking about. It even says she’s a female. You wouldn’t call a male cat Kitty, you’d call him Tom.”
We had ice cream for dessert, mint green with little shavings of chocolate. It looked pretty in the small dessert bowls, but Jim used a larger dish. “I have a little ice cream most evenings and I like this bowl. It fits the hand.”
“And fits a large scoop of ice cream,” Nita pointed out.
“Anybody want a little more?”
Nita offered to make coffee, but we turned it down. I helped her move the dishes to the kitchen. Then we went back to sit in the living room.
Chapter 7
“I’m going to have a little more of this wine.” Jim poured half a glass then wedged the cork in.
Nita and I were back on the couch.
“You asked who called nine-one-one. I assume it was Dolly. Right?”
Jim tipped the recliner’s footrest halfway up and picked up his notepad again. “Dolly says she did. Says she opened the gate and went in, saw the body in the pool and immediately dialed nine-one-one.” He chuckled. “I’m not entirely sure about the immediate part because Dolly can’t see much. She could swim laps with a dead woman in the water and never know it. But she says she saw the body and made the call then went to the indoor pool to swim and watch the rescue vehicles arrive. And before she finished her workout, the officers spotted her and ran her off.”
“I can confirm that part.” I told them about seeing Dolly walking away from the pool house early Friday morning, with Chief Boozer following her. “That’s when I met him. He came up to the intersection and talked to both of us.”
“The problem is, the police phone log doesn’t agree. Dispatch says the call didn’t come from Dolly’s phone. It came from an unlisted number.”
“What’s known as a burner phone. The type drug dealers use.” Coming from Nita, the words sounded so alien.
“Maybe they got more than one call.”
Jim shook his head. “Not unless you count the people calling to ask what was going on out here. You’ve got a lot of nosy neighbors, if you don’t know it.”
Nita muttered, “Too bad no one noticed a murder.”
I recoiled. “A murder? Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“A suspicious death, possible homicide. That’s the official terminology. I still say drowning, but technically it wasn’t.”
I didn’t want to give up my scenario. “Why do they think it wasn’t a drowning?”
He pushed back in the recliner. “Well, think about it. An accident happens in one place. She trips and bangs her head on the pool coping, dies instantly and goes in the water. That’s an accident. But if she dies instantly, never takes another breath, then there’s no water in the lungs. Still an accident, but not a drowning. What’s the definition of drowning? Water in the lungs.” He took a sip of wine.
“And the phrase ‘inconsistent with drowning’….”
He nodded. “Exactly. It might look like a drowning, but it’s not. Was it an accident?” He shrugged.
“Not if somebody pushed her,” Nita said.
“Oh.” My heart sank. The figure in the scene that popped into my imagination looked an awful lot like Travis. I dialed it out and listened to Jim.
“Well, Nita, there’s no suggestion of that. The question is, why does the big house have all that crime scene tape around it? To me, it says something happened there. And when something happens in two places, it’s no accident.”
It made sense. “Maybe they’re just looking for background evidence. She had an office in the building, probably some records, a computer.”
“So there’s the question for you, Cleo. What’s in the big house? Have you picked up anything?”
I shook my head. “I won’t be in there until Monday, and I wouldn’t expect to have anything to do with Lee’s death. Maybe it’ll be resolved by Monday.”
Jim shrugged again. He didn’t seem to believe it. Maybe he didn’t want it to be over so quickly.
I asked, “Was there blood in the pool area? Anything she might’ve hit her head on?”
He shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of. Of course, they might not tell me everything.”
“Well, I might be able to tell you something about the call for EMTs. Did Dolly tell you she found a phone? I saw her this morning, just finishing her swim.”
Nita frowned. “Dolly doesn’t usually swim on Saturdays.”
“This was a make-up day, after she was interrupted yesterday. She found a phone in the pocket of her bathrobe. It wasn’t hers, and she didn’t know where it came from. She insisted I take it.”
“She never mentioned a phone.” Jim seemed offended to be left out of the loop.
Nita sounded more interested in excusing Dolly. “You know she’s forgetful, Jim. Like the rest of us.”
“Now, Cleo, you may have just answered the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.” He dropped the footrest and got up with the usual effort. “I’ll call the chief right now. You still have the phone, I hope.”
Nita tried to stop him. “A call can wait, can’t it? It’s Saturday night.”
“It’s not late yet, Nita. Not for most people. Policing doesn’t stop on the weekends. Chief Boozer might want to come get it tonight. And even if he doesn’t, he might sleep better knowing it’s here.”
He went to his office, and I shifted into a more relaxed mode. “That was a delicious dinner, Nita. I think I’ll go to bed early tonight. Maybe read some more about old Fairhope.”
“Wait just a minute, dear, and see what Jim learns. Then he’ll walk with you.”
“No need for that.” I stood up. “Thanks for having me over. I want you and Jim and Dolly to come to my apartment soon. Are Saturday nights usually good for you?”
Jim joined us as we reached the door. I gave Nita a hug.
“If you’re about ready, Cleo, I’m going to walk you home. Chief Boozer is sending a car to pick up that phone. I’ll stay until it gets here.”
“Oh, there’s really no need. Why don’t I just call you when I get home?”
He wouldn’t hear of it. “Anyway, I want to have a quick look at that phone. Hold on just a minute.” He went to the kitchen and came back carrying a clear plastic Ziploc bag. “I don’t suppose you put the phone in an evidence bag.”
I admitted I had not. “I didn’t know it was evidence. I think I left it on the dresser. And both Dolly and I handled it, so any prints may be ruined, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
He shrugged and joined us by the door. “Well, that’s just the facts, but it’s always surprising what these technicians can conjure up today. They get fingerprints off skin, did you know that?”
We walked across the street together.
On the way, I asked, “What’s the story with Jamie? Did you find out why she’s leaving right now?”
That didn’t seem nearly as interesting to him as the phone. “I saw her last night, after you told me she’s leaving. Lee Ferrell was her sister, did you know?”
“Travis told me.”
“Well, it’s not a bad idea, not the way she describes it. She should’ve gone months ago. Should never have worked for her sister. But who’s going to be in charge here—that’s the question.”
“I may do it temporarily. Travis asked me to.”
“Lee Ferrell’s husband? Now why would he think you could run a retirement community? You’re a teacher.”
Ouch. But I was willing to grant an octogenarian a few prejudices.
I changed the subject. “Do you know anything about the ownership of this place?”
“Harbor Health Care is a big outfit in Houston. Riley’s looking into it. They’ve got several facilities, like this one, scattered around the country. They’re sending Jamie to Charleston to take over one. Maybe you better say yes about the management job, Cleo, before they find someone we don’t like. Would it be part-time?”
I stepped onto the curb and paused a beat for Jim to catch up. “Travis said the cops gave him a real grilling. They must think it was murder.”
“She was struck with an unknown object, and it’s not here. But nobody’s going to leave a weapon lying around. I’m sure it’s in the bay by now, or in a construction dumpster in Mobile or Pensacola.”
I sighed and got out my door key. “I wonder if we have adequate security here.”
“That’s a thought. But I’m on it. And I can recruit a few more volunteers, just until they know if anybody local was involved. What does Travis look like?”
I unlocked the apartment door and Jim gave me the plastic bag.
“Let me see where that phone is. Maybe you can slide it in here without more touching.”
We went to the bedroom and he looked around.
“I see you’ve got everything shipshape already. Where’s the cat?”
Before I could answer, he broke into a banshee shout.
“Here, kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty! Here kitty!”
I nearly wet my pants.
No doubt he woke the neighbors, and probably people in the houses behind us, too. No sign of the cat, of course.
“Let’s sit in the living room.” My hands were shaking, and I was eager to get him out of the bedroom.
“Just scoop up that phone and we’ll take it with us. I’ll do it if you can’t, but my tremor’s bad tonight.”
I had a tremor of my own now, thanks to his outburst, but I aimed the bag at the phone.
“Might be best to turn the bag inside out and pick up the phone. Then you can flip the bag back to normal.” He acted out the movements. “That’s a little tricky with these stiff bags.”
He was right in my way, leaning over the dresser and blocking my view. I twisted the bag this way and that and finally got the phone inside then zipped it closed.
“Wait, let’s have a quick look before we seal it.” He leaned against the dresser and took the bag from me. “I’ll just examine it.”
He unzipped the closure but didn’t remove the phone. Instead, he manipulated it, squeezing it to one side of the bag and jabbing at the flip top with his thumbnail. After a few tries, he got it open, but it didn’t light up.
“Maybe the battery’s dead.”
“No way to see what calls were made from it? I don’t suppose you have a battery charger we could use.”
“I don’t think so, Jim. If the phone is evidence, tampering with it doesn’t seem like a good idea.”
He didn’t seem convinced and gave the dial another jab through the plastic.
I tried another approach. “We might erase its history.”
He snapped the phone closed and handed the bag to me. “Oh. Well, we don’t want to do that. Let’s just see what the police can learn. They’ll have experts, you know.”
Officer Montgomery came alone to get the phone. She and Jim addressed each other by first names, like old friends.
“Mary, do you know our new neighbor?”
“Ms. Mack.” She gave me a nod and got out her notepad. “Tell me about this phone.”
I gave her the story, with liberal assistance from Jim.
“Tell the chief to call me when he learns something. And you might want me to go along when you talk to Dolly Webb. She can be difficult.” He tapped the side of his head. “Turns eighty on Christmas Day.”
Thirty minutes after Jim and the policewoman departed, the cat came out from under the bed while I was brushing my teeth.
“Sorry about that.”
She meowed and went out to the kitchen. She was crunching on dry food a few minutes later, when I put down my puzzle book and began to drift off to sleep.
The next morning, I realized I had just one day left to settle into my new location, since my job, whatever it was going to be, would begin the following day.
I made up a shopping list, while I ate chocolate-almond biscotti and drank a cup of coffee. Then I looked up a phone number and placed a call to a home health care service in Daphne. The woman who answered gave her name as Ivy Stafford.
I told her who I was and that I was calling for Harbor Village. “I’m just starting work here and I need to line up an RN for our Assisted Living center, beginning tomorrow. I’d like to get one person who can come every day for a week or so, not a series of people. Is that possible?”
“Is this a fill-in for Jamie Barnes?”
“Jamie’s out of town. I’m not sure how long she’ll be gone, or if she’ll come back.”
“Really? So there’s a chance this might turn into a permanent job? Full-time, with benefits?”
“It’s possible. I can’t make any promises at the moment.”
“If it’s likely to be permanent, I might come myself.” She gave me a short sales spiel, saying she had worked at a local nursing home before she took over the temp service. “Sometimes I go out on jobs, but mostly I schedule CNAs. I miss patient car
e, and I’ve always wanted to work at Harbor Village. The timing just never worked out.”
“Okay, good.” I told her where to come. “Let’s say eight thirty, and ask for Cleo Mack. What kind of fee are we talking about, for one week?”
She gave me a figure. “That’s an eight-hour shift, whatever hours you want, with thirty minutes for lunch. If I stay longer, the fee goes up.”
I agreed and wrote down the amount and her phone number beside her name, Ivy Stafford.
Next, I searched for the non-emergency phone number of the police department.
A woman answered and I gave my name and asked if Chief Boozer was in. I didn’t expect him to be there on a Sunday morning, and there was no reply when I asked for him, but in a few seconds, he answered.
I told him who I was. “Chief, tomorrow’s a workday. Is the administration building going to be accessible to staff?”
“We’re finishing up in here now, and I’ll have the tape down in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” I was surprised when he said in here; apparently he was at the big house at the moment.
He was still speaking. “I need to talk with you. I understand you’re beginning work tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there all day and we’ll talk whenever you like.”
When I headed out to the grocery store a few minutes later, two police SUVs were parked at the office door. All the yellow tape was still in place.
Grocery shopping is usually a pleasure for me. When I get home, I wash all the produce at once and repackage it, ready for use. On Sunday I bought locally grown lettuce, a cauliflower, colorful little peppers, cherry tomatoes, green onions and two cucumbers. I filled the sink with cold water and a generous splash of vinegar and washed each piece individually. Afterward, the kitchen counter looked like a farmers’ market, with everything spread out on cotton towels to dry.
Quinoa and lentils and tea bags went into clear glass canisters lined up at the back of the countertop. Half the loaf of five-grain sour dough bread went into the freezer, zipped into what I now knew as an evidence bag. Beans, crushed tomatoes, tuna and soup went into the cabinet, along with plastic containers of mustard and fat-free Catalina dressing, jars of peanut butter and bread-and-butter pickle slices. I assigned cat food to a separate skinny cabinet under the counter. And while I was in the kitchen, I mixed up tuna salad and put it in the refrigerator, ready for quick sandwiches.