Murder at Harbor Village

by GP Gardner

  There were some other chores to do. I attended to the cat box, used a sticky roller to remove cat hair from the duvet, tidied the guest bath and put out fresh hand towels then did a bit to improve my appearance. By six fifteen I was ready for visitors.

  The first one to arrive was Travis McKenzie.

  “I wasn’t expecting you,” I greeted him.

  He shook his umbrella and left it, opened, on the porch beside mine. “I planned to be in Houston tonight, but I got stuck in Tuscaloosa longer than I expected. So I decided to come through here on the way. There’s nothing for me to do in Houston, anyway.”

  “I’m expecting guests tonight. Some friends who live here. They’re going to talk about events.”

  “Good. I want to know. Do we have time to get some dinner first?”

  “You mean go out? No, but I can make you a sandwich.”

  “And some coffee?”

  “Come back to the kitchen with me.”

  There was enough tuna salad left for another sandwich. I put coffee on first and then toasted the bread. Travis was restless, wandering around the apartment, picking up photographs and commenting on the people he recognized.

  I heard him greet the cat and then he called out, “The bathroom’s back this way?”

  “To your right.” I was glad I’d just checked towels and soap and tissue. I wasn’t comfortable with him in the apartment. I especially didn’t like the idea of my guests finding him here, but there was no alternative now.

  The toaster oven pinged and cut off, and I spread the tuna mixture on the bread. I added crisp pickles and cut the sandwich on the diagonal. As I took the plate to the dining table, Nita and Dolly and Jim arrived with much clatter and chatter.

  “Come in.” I went to the door to meet them.

  “Where is she?” Nita stepped inside and smiled as she looked around for the cat. “Oh!”

  Travis appeared in the doorway from my bedroom.

  “I don’t believe you’ve met Travis McKenzie.” I frowned at him. Why couldn’t he have used the guest bath, and how did he pick that moment to walk out of my bedroom?

  Nita and Dolly stared, but Jim stuck out his hand. “Jim Bergen. I’ve seen you around here a few times. Don’t think we ever met. Are you a native of Alabama, Travis?”

  “Georgia,” Travis answered automatically.

  I introduced him to the two women.

  Nita hesitated momentarily then reached out with both hands and went to Travis. “Oh, you poor thing. Just married and losing your wife in such a tragic way. I am so sorry.”

  Travis wrapped her in his arms, put his cheek against the top of her head and sobbed.

  Jim gave me a helpless, embarrassed look.

  I went to the guest bathroom and got a box of tissues. I pulled out two and handed them to Travis, who released Nita to wipe his eyes and blow his nose.

  “I’m so sorry. It just hit me all at once.” He was red-faced but recovering quickly.

  “Don’t apologize. Grief is part of life.” Nita stayed right beside him, patting his arm, smiling sweetly, saying all the appropriate things that never occurred to me at such times. “You’ve had a terrible experience. You’ll need time to recover.”

  Dolly sat on one end of the couch and watched casually. Jim left the drama to Nita and paced around the room, investigating the sandwich on the table, looking in the kitchen. Finally he returned to where Travis and Nita and I still stood.

  “We all feel for you, Travis,” I said. “Do you want to sit down now?”

  “Cleo’s got a sandwich here for you. Cleo, I smell coffee.”

  I directed Travis to the table. “Coffee for Travis and tea for everybody else?”

  “I’ll take coffee, too, since you’ve got it. I’m not much of a tea drinker. It’s more of a female thing. Dainty cups and those little spoons.” Jim joined Travis at the table.

  “Go look at the bedrooms while I pour coffee and get the tea started,” I said to Nita and Dolly.

  “Oh, yes, the cat,” Nita said. “I don’t suppose you’ve had time to look for her vet.”

  I brought Nita and Dolly up to date on the cat’s name while I poured two cups of coffee and delivered them to the table.

  “Tinkerbelle,” Nita repeated. “That’s just perfect. Two nice hard consonants.” She gave two little chops with her delicate hands, so thin they looked blue with blood veins. “That’s what pets need. And it’s not a silly word.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Dolly said. “Wasn’t Tinkerbelle a fairy? That’s pretty silly, in my book. Where is she?”

  I pointed toward my bedroom and the two of them went that way. I added boiling water to the tea bags already in the pot and heard Travis talking to Jim.

  “I thought if I stayed busy, you know? But it’s not working. I’ve got to go back to Houston and deal with it.”

  “We can come back another night,” Nita whispered, when I found them in the bedroom a minute later, stroking Tinkerbelle. “You may have personal things to discuss.”

  “There’s nothing personal between us, believe me. Travis wants to know what’s going on and you can help tell him. And maybe there are some things he can tell us, too. Jim is talking with him now. I’ve got cheese and crackers and tea ready, but it’s not fancy.”

  “Travis looks just like that man who does those commercials,” Dolly said. “The handsome one. Maybe you ought to give him another chance, Cleo.”

  “Oh, Dolly, no no no, don’t even think it. It’s a different world today. We’re different people.”

  She wasn’t totally dissuaded. “Well, the world’s changing, they say. But you’re right, Robert Mack was a better pick.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve been here just a week,” Nita said as I got the tray and carried it to the coffee table. “Your apartment is so organized and comfortable.”

  “It’s easier now, after the estate sale. I have just the essentials. Everything I need and nothing extra.” It wasn’t quite true, but it was something I could work on.

  I moved a chair with arms from the dining table to the circle around the coffee table.

  Travis finished the sandwich and took his plate to the kitchen. “Want more coffee, Jim?” He appeared in the doorway with the carafe in hand. “There’s just enough for refills.”

  Everyone found a seat in the living room and I set the conversational ball in motion. “Travis wants to know what’s happened here, so let’s tell him.”

  “I’ve filled him in on a few things already.” Jim helped himself to cheese and crackers. “Cleo, tell him about the rental problem.”

  I did, and Dolly heard it for the first time. Nita, who knew all about it from Jim, I was sure, listened attentively. “I don’t have exact figures yet, but it appears to have gone on at least since January, and to involve about seventy thousand dollars since then.”

  “And who is this Cynthia woman?” Travis asked. “I’ve never heard of her.”

  Nita answered. “I’ve met her. She’s an old-fashioned beauty, late thirties and quite elegant. Remember, Jim, I told you about her jewelry.”

  “Well, she’s got a temper.” I told them about her reaction when I confronted her about the key tags. “She’s the rental agent here, and Chief Boozer says she’s a big fish in town. Lee probably hired her. Now, Travis, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re going to be asked. Is there any chance Lee participated in such a scam?”

  He answered emphatically. “No. Absolutely not.”

  I plunged ahead, risking his wrath. “She didn’t have any debts hidden from you? No bad habits?”

  “I’m not saying she was perfect, and Lord knows I’m not, but this sounds like a stupid operation with clear criminal liability. My first thought is Jamie. And she told me you weren’t paying rent.”

  “Well, I guess that’s right, from you
r perspective,” I said. “She was explaining ahead of time. If you happened to look for a payment from me in the Harbor Village accounts, you wouldn’t find it.”

  He rubbed a hand through thick, dark hair that sprang back into place immediately. “Maybe Lee just found out about it. That could be what they argued about at dinner.”

  Jim pounced. “They argued at dinner? Jamie told you that?”

  Travis nodded.

  “Do you think Jamie would harm her sister?”

  “Jim!” Nita whispered.

  “No, I don’t,” Travis answered firmly, looking at Jim. “That’s really why I went to Charleston, you know, to explore that point. And I believe her. She’s totally wiped out over Lee’s death. She said they had dinner together down at the pier, on the outdoor deck. They argued about Nelson Fisher’s office and some other crap Jamie didn’t want to tell me about. It was a scene, I guess, but she swore Lee was fine, standing in the parking lot beside the office, talking on the phone the last time she saw her.”

  I was sure Dolly had been paying attention, but she spoke up suddenly. “And who is Nelson Fisher?”

  While Travis answered, Jim leaned toward me and spoke softly. “Does the chief know he’s here?”

  I shook my head.

  Jim flicked a glance toward the bedroom and mouthed the words. “Call him.”

  I wasn’t sure why Chief Boozer needed to know Travis was in town, but Jim knew a lot of things I didn’t. I let a couple of minutes elapse, then muttered, “Excuse me,” and went to my bathroom. I closed the door, turned on the exhaust fan, and called Chief Boozer.

  “My detectives are on the way back from Charleston right now,” he said, when I’d given him my message. “Is he staying with you tonight?”

  “Oh no. At the motel, I guess.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  When I returned to the living room, Travis was telling them about Jamie’s promotion. “She’s wanted it for a long time. Not Charleston, necessarily, but a step up. Maybe Lee wanted her to prove herself here.”

  At the first lull in conversation, I asked, “Travis, where is Lee’s phone now?” I wanted to know what calls she’d made and received Thursday night. Had she perhaps texted someone about her actions?

  “I don’t know. Is it missing?”

  “Have you used that app that finds it? Does it show anything?”

  Travis reached to his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I knew where Lee was, so I haven’t thought about looking for her phone.” He touched in a code, scrolled and touched an icon. “It’s been a few days. The battery may be gone by now.”

  “Well, I have another question. What time did you get here Thursday night?”

  “Mmm, after dark. About nine?” He was distracted by whatever he was seeing on the phone. “Why? I can ask the motel if it’s important.”

  “I don’t mean when did you get to motel. I mean, what time did you get here, to Harbor Village?”

  He raised his head and seemed to travel back in time. “Last Thursday? I wasn’t here, not until Friday morning. Before sun-up.” His attention returned to the phone. “This is odd. It’s saying Lee’s iPad is right here somewhere. They told me her car was impounded. Have they released it?”

  Jim asked, “She was driving the silver Lexus?”

  Travis nodded, fiddling with the phone still.

  “And you drive a black Lexus?” I already knew the answer because of Stephanie’s report, but I wanted to hear it first-hand. My stomach tied itself in a knot.

  Travis glanced up. “Well, that’s what I’m driving at the moment.”

  Jim and I glanced at each other.

  “But it’s Jamie’s car. I’m taking it to Houston for her. Why are you interested in cars?”

  The dark SUV was Jamie’s car? I felt a little tide of relief wash over me. But another thought occurred right away. “I thought Jamie had a BMW.”

  Travis nodded, distractedly. “Yeah, she did. Her buddy Michelle wrecked it, you know.”

  “Right.” Jim nodded. “Five or six weeks ago, wasn’t it?”

  “Why all the questions? And why is this thing saying Lee’s iPad is right here?” Travis got up. “I’m going to check it out. You want to get wet, Jim?”

  Jim definitely wanted to go, but the body was weak. “I’d just slow you down.” He followed Travis to the porch. “I’ll watch from here. Whatever you find, bring it back here.”

  “I’ll go.” I eased around Jim.

  “Oh no, Cleo,” Nita protested. “You’ll get soaked.”

  My umbrella was still on the porch, along with Jim’s. I got mine and went through the door, popping it open with the button. “Where are we going?”

  Travis headed off down the sidewalk, past the garages and across the street, which was streaked with washes of gravel and sand, compliments of all the rain. I stayed right behind him, wondering if the city would send a street sweeper to clean up the mess or if Harbor Village had to make its owns arrangements about such things. The rain was moderately heavy again, slanting at a steep angle across glowing streetlights.

  “Her iPad is supposed to be right here. In one of these cars, I guess, or on the ground. We should’ve brought a flashlight. There’s no way this app would be picking up somebody else’s iPad, is there?”

  Jim’s Buick was there, and the black Lexus Travis was driving, and the boxy white van that belonged to the police department’s crime scene crew, backed up to the door at the end of the building. A couple of other police SUVs were parked against the curb beside the ballroom.

  “This is Jim’s car.” I pointed. “I can’t imagine why anything belonging to Lee would be in it.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “You can’t think an eighty-year-old man goes around stealing iPads and murdering women.”

  We went to the black Lexus and the headlights flashed as the doors unlocked automatically, just the way Riley had described. I was torn and looked toward the big house. If Chief Boozer was still there, I wanted to get him. But I also wanted to see anything Travis might find. I went to the passenger side of the car and opened the door.

  Travis was holding his umbrella with one hand and feeling around the driver’s seat, the floor, the console. I attempted the same thing and dumped water off my umbrella onto the leather seat. I dried it with my sleeve and held the umbrella at a different angle, managing to direct a rivulet of cold water onto the small of my back. I repositioned the umbrella again and began the same searching maneuvers around the front passenger seat. Crumbs in the seat, sand on the floor mat. Rain splatted my face. A fast-food paper wrapper was balled up on the floor.

  Travis moved to the backseat and repeated his actions there.

  I reached into the dark beneath the seat and my fingers brushed against soft leather. “Look at this.” I inserted one finger through a leather loop and pulled a dark shoulder bag out onto the carpet then held it up.

  Travis was in back, peering between the front seats.

  “What is it? A purse?”

  “Is it Lee’s?”

  “Look inside. Or hand it to me.”

  “I don’t think so.” I dropped the bag onto the floor and backed away. “The cops are right here. Let’s get them.”

  “Where, in the administration building? Go get them.”

  “No, we both go. Come on.” I closed the door and he did the same, after only a slight hesitation. I heard a soft beep as the doors locked when we walked away.

  We left our umbrellas on the porch and entered the building. Bright lights were on all the way to the lobby.

  “Hello! Hello,” I called. “Chief Boozer?”

  “Yo!”

  Officer Montgomery stepped into sight from the cross hall, looking huge against the light. She pointed at us. “Hold it right there.”

  Only a fool wo
uld have disobeyed that voice.

  “Can you get Chief Boozer? Or can you come outside?”

  Boozer stepped into view and started our way, saying something over his shoulder.

  “Mr. McKenzie, Ms. Mack. What’s up?” He sounded almost cheerful, but it didn’t last long.

  We told him what we had and he called back to Montgomery, “Get Frankel and come out here.”

  Travis and I waited under the porch roof, where it was dry, and Travis clicked the remote to unlock the car.

  Montgomery and another officer had questions. Why was Travis driving this car? Where was the owner? Where had the car been for five days? Why had Travis not discovered the handbag before now?

  “I just got the car from Jamie yesterday,” he told them. “I’ve been driving or working ever since.” He looked at me. “I assume it’s not Stephanie’s purse? She sat in that seat last night.”

  I stood an arm’s length away, watching people come out of the building and don rain gear and disposable gloves before going to the car. Flashlights and umbrellas bobbed all around us, and water drained off the roof, through the downspout attached to the pillar beside us. Boozer was back and forth, listening to Travis, looking over the technicians’ shoulders, watching as one of them prepared to slip the purse into a brown paper bag he had already marked with an identifying code.

  “Can you tell us whose purse it is? Does it belong to Lee Ferrell or Jamie Barnes? Or perhaps to my daughter?”

  “The wallet has Ms. Ferrell’s ID.”

  The tech stapled the paper bag closed.

  “It’ll be inventoried at the station, with multiple observers and a video record,” Boozer told Travis. “I’d like to look through the car while we’re here, if you don’t mind. There might be something else in it.”

  “Go to it.” Travis waved a hand as if to hurry things along. “I want to know what happened and if this tells us something…” His attention was focused closely on what was happening at the car.

  To me, Lee’s purse was personal, an eerie link to the living Lee. If her phone was in there, the cops would soon know exactly what calls she made and received in her final hours.