Murder and Brandy Boy: A Liz Lucas Cozy Mystery Series Book 2

by Dianne Harman

  “I’m going to go out to the Scott home later this morning, Seth. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Same here, babe. Elroy and me gotta take that computer apart and see what we can find out. Principal wasn’t too happy when I took it. She’s probably jes’ still mad that Dave never married her after his wife died, and he took up with Lucy Anders instead of her. That got her panties in a knot, it did.”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about that. Thanks for being so understanding.”

  “Anything for ya’, babe. Like I said, jes’ whistle.”

  “Thanks. Goodbye.”

  *****

  Half an hour later, Liz and Winston pulled into the Scott’s driveway and parked beside a rusted older car. It was a stark contrast to when she had visited the Scotts the day before yesterday, and the street and driveway had been filled with people offering condolences. She walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. She waited a few moments, but no one came to the door. Looking around at the neglected house and yard she wondered if the doorbell was broken, so she knocked. A moment later the door was opened by Mr. Scott who wore the same flannel shirt and jeans he’d had on the last time she’d visited the house. From the looks of his hair and unshaven face, it was clear that personal grooming wasn’t a priority of his at the moment.

  “Hello, Mr. Scott. I’m Liz Lucas. I was here day before yesterday. I’m the one Mark worked for at the spa.”

  “Yes, I remember. Please, come in. I didn’t get a chance to tell you the other day, but Mark really liked working at the lodge with you. He told us many times how much he was learning from you. Thank you.”

  Her heart breaking, she said, “Mr. Scott, the California Highway Patrol came to the spa yesterday. I don’t think there’s an easy way for me to tell you this, but their investigation discovered that the brake line on Mark’s car had been intentionally cut, and he had no brakes on his car when the crash occurred. It turns out he didn’t commit suicide, Mr. Scott, he was murdered.”

  Mr. Scott’s eyes got wide, and he clutched at his heart as he backed into a worn, lumpy couch that was discolored from years of use. His eyes filled with tears, and he tried to wipe them away with the back of his hand. He took a well-used handkerchief out of his back pocket and blew his nose. He was quiet for several minutes studying the faded pattern of the rug on the floor.

  After a few moments he asked in a voice totally devoid of emotion, “Who, who would have murdered my son? He didn’t have any enemies. Everyone loved him. What am I going to tell my wife? It’s bad enough she has cancer, and Mark’s dead. This will be the final blow.”

  “I am so sorry. I’ve been sick to my stomach ever since they told me. I can’t stop crying. I suppose the only thing that’s good about this is that Mark didn’t take his own life, if you can consider that a good thing.”

  “The missus and I knew he didn’t kill himself. What happens now? Will the Highway Patrol be asking us questions when they investigate it?”

  “No. They only have jurisdiction over the highway. Since the crime occurred within the city limits, the police chief will be in charge of the investigation.”

  “You’re kidding! That bumbling idiot couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, much less solve a murder. I’ve never understood why he gets elected every time he runs. Only thing I can think is that he’s so bad at figuring out if anyone did anything that a number of people prefer to have someone like him in office so they can keep on doing what they’re doing and not get arrested. Be willing to bet that’s where he gets the money for his elections.”

  “Mr. Scott, I totally agree with you, so I’ve decided to see if I can find out who did it. I’m going to do this for two reasons. First of all, Mark worked for me, and I was the last person to see him alive. Secondly, the brake line was cut while his car was on my property, so the spa is involved. If there is anything you can think of, however small or insignificant you think it may be, I would really like to know about it. The man I’ve been seeing for a while is a lawyer who specializes in criminal law, and he has a lot of experience in that field. He gives me advice. You may remember when the mayor’s wife, Barbara Nelson, was murdered, it happened at my spa. With the help of my lawyer friend, I was able to find out who committed the crime. Can you think of anything, anything at all that might help me find your son’s killer?”

  His ashen face showed absolutely no emotion as he looked at her with dead eyes. The news Liz had brought seemed to have taken the last spark of life from him. He was alive, but inside he was seemingly as dead as his son. Finally he spoke, “Something was bothering Mark. I don’t know what it was. His mother asked him, and he said he was going to take care of it. Other than that, I can’t think of anything. If we knew what it was, maybe that would help. You might try talking to Emily, his girlfriend. They were very close. If he told anyone, she’d be the one he’d tell. I think you met her the other day.”

  “Yes, and I thought she was very courageous when she got up in front of everyone at the funeral and spoke about Mark when her heart was clearly broken.”

  “She’s been like a daughter to us. She knew the missus and me couldn’t get up there to speak about Mark, so she did it for us. I think you need to talk to her.”

  “I agree. Could you tell me where she lives? And I do have a favor to ask of you. Would you call her and ask her if she’ll talk to me? I’m sure she’ll be very protective of whatever Mark told her, but if I’m going to find out who did this horrible thing, I need to know what it was that was troubling Mark.”

  “Yes, I’ll call her right now. I know she’s staying home from school this week. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  A short time later, he woodenly walked into the room. “She said if you could come over now, it would be a good time. Here’s her address.” He handed Liz a piece of paper and then said in choking voice as he wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand, “Thanks for coming here to tell me. I can only imagine how Seth would have handled it. I appreciate what you’re doing for Mark, and if I can help, please call me. I need to go tell the missus. This isn’t going to be easy.”

  She put her hand on his cheek and said in a comforting manner, “I can’t begin to imagine what you must be going through, and I can’t say I understand, because I’ve never had to go through anything like what’s happened to you. Having my husband die was horrible, but having a son murdered? It has to be every parent’s worst nightmare. I promise you, Mr. Scott, I’ll do everything I can to find out who did it.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Liz looked at the front lawn of Emily Myers’ home wondering who would cut it now that Mark was dead. Although small, the house with wood siding was well maintained. Larkspur, sweet peas, stock, and delphinium flowers in shades of pink, purple, red and white were on either side of the sidewalk leading to the front steps, and a large pot with brightly colored ranunculus flowers in shades of pink and red was on each step. The door was painted a bright shade of red, and white shutters framed the windows.

  That’s interesting, Liz thought. I remember when I took a class in Feng Shui at the adult center near where we lived in San Francisco the professor said that a red door symbolized the word “Welcome.” I read somewhere that the Chinese weren’t the only ones who painted their doors red. Evidently it was an old early American tradition meant to welcome tired horse and buggy travelers, and if a door was painted red, it was a place they could rest. Haven’t seen one for a long time. This home sure is a contrast to the one I just left.

  She was raising her hand to knock on the door when it was opened by Emily. “I saw your car pull up. Please come in, Mrs. Lucas.”

  She wore jeans and a white T-shirt with the words “Red Cedar High School” written in red on it. Even though it was clear from the pain in her eyes that she was grieving over Mark, she looked much better than she had the previous two times Liz had seen her.

  “Mr. Scott said you wanted to talk to me about Mark. He told me that Mark was murd
ered. I knew he didn’t kill himself. He wouldn’t have left me alone. Did you know we were going to get married?”

  “Yes, Mr. Scott told me. I’m so sorry about this tragedy that has been dumped in your lap. You probably know he worked for me, and I felt like he was my son. I wish I could have done something to prevent it.”

  “Ever since Mr. Scott called, I’ve been thinking about who would do something so terrible. Why Mark? I don’t understand it. It made no sense to think he committed suicide, but quite honestly, it doesn’t make any sense to think that he was murdered either.”

  “Do you mind if I sit down? I have a couple of questions I’d like to ask you.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. Guess manners aren’t real high on my priority list at the moment. Sit in the plaid chair. It’s the most comfortable one. Mr. Scott said you were going to try and find out who killed Mark. Do you think you’ll be able to? Why would you want to try and to find out who did it?”

  “I told Mr. Scott I felt an obligation to do what I could because I was the last person to see Mark alive, and the brake line was evidently cut while he was working for me at the lodge. I want to do whatever I can.”

  “Mr. Scott said he was glad you were going to help, because he didn’t want anything to do with Chief Williams.”

  “I can’t say that surprises me. Several people think he’s challenged in his job. The main question I want to ask you is this. As you know, the day Mark died he was working for me at the lodge. He wasn’t his usual self all afternoon. There was no joking around, and he was unusually quiet. Even his body language told me something was wrong. I asked him if he’d like to talk about it and he said no, that he was going to take care of it the next day. I told him if he needed to talk to someone I’d be happy to listen. He told me, and this is why I wanted to talk to you, that he’d told his girlfriend about what was bothering him. Would you mind telling me what he said to you?”

  Emily turned away from Liz and took a long sip from a glass of water that was on the table beside her. After what seemed like an eternity, she looked at Liz and said, “I’ve been thinking about this ever since Mr. Scott called and told me Mark was dead. I don’t quite understand it. Mark told me someone had told him they had done something terribly wrong, and they needed to talk to him about it. Whoever it was made Mark promise he wouldn’t tell anyone, and he didn’t other than what I just told you. He never told me exactly what the person had done or who it was. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think who it might have been.”

  “It must have been someone close to Mark. Did any of his friends seem different to you recently?”

  “No, not really. There is one more thing. He said something about people probably finding out about it soon enough. I talked to him before he went to the lodge, and I asked him if he was all right. I knew this thing had been worrying him for several days. He told me not to worry, and then he asked if I could get a ride to school the next day, because he had to go in early and talk to the principal about something. I said sure. He never told me what he was going to talk to the principal about. That’s all I know.”

  “Well, if none of his friends acted strange is there someone else who might have told him something? What about a relative or a neighbor?”

  “I suppose it could have been anyone. The seniors are all pretty happy they’re graduating. It looks like Brent Ackler and his girlfriend, Kaitlin, are going to be able to go to Stanford. They’ll be the first students from Red Cedar High School to go there, so everyone’s talking about that. Our school’s pretty small. We only have three hundred students in it, so everybody knows everybody. Maybe it was that neighbor of Mark’s. He’s befriended that nerdy kid, the one they call Nerdy Birdy. He lives across the street, and he followed Mark around like a puppy. He idolized Mark. There are a couple of other people who live near him, but I can’t believe any of them would kill him.”

  “Is Nerdy’s mother Mrs. Bird, the seamstress?”

  “Yes, why do you ask?”

  “I took a pair of slacks over to her recently. One of my dogs is a big St. Bernard. He was running to one of the cottages to take a little brandy to a guest, and unfortunately I got in his way. One of his toenails snagged my pant leg and tore a hole in it. I’m just lucky he didn’t run into me full force. He weighs about one hundred sixty pounds, so who knows what would have happened to me? That reminds me I need to call her and see if she’s finished mending my slacks. Let me change the subject. Have you heard anything about the school’s office computer being hacked?”

  “No. Was it?”

  “The police chief told me he’d received an anonymous tip that it had been, and strangely enough I overheard a conversation yesterday which pretty much indicated the same thing.”

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  “I don’t know. What I overheard was that someone had changed some grades. You said that Brent Ackler and his girlfriend, Kaitlin, were going to be able to go to Stanford now. Does that mean that earlier it didn’t look like they would be able to go?”

  “Yes. Brent needed to graduate with a 3.0 grade point average to get the scholarship and so did Kaitlin. Her father’s a Stanford alum who’s given a lot of money to the school. She told me if she could get a 3.0, her father had enough influence she’d be able to get in. Neither one of them were very good students, but they wanted to be together at Stanford. Why?”

  “A wise man I know doesn’t believe in coincidences, and I’m beginning to think like him. Mark’s not himself, a computer at the high school is hacked, he tells you he’s going to go in early to see the principal the next day, he tells me that he’s going to take care of the problem the next day, and Brent and Kaitlin suddenly have the grade average they need to get into Stanford. Something seems a little too coincidental in all of this, but darned if I know where to go with it.”

  “Well, if a computer was hacked and grades were changed, there’s only one student at Red Cedar High who could do that, if it was a student. Nerdy Birdy. He can take apart computers, build them, and make them do anything he wants. He’s a nerd in every sense of the word, but he’s a genius when it comes to computers.”

  “I could probably connect those dots, but I don’t have a clue where it leads,” Liz said. “Can you think of anything else?”

  Emily sat quietly. In a moment she said, “I think Mark was worried about the situation, but nothing indicated he was afraid that something bad was going to happen to him. I don’t think he suspected someone was planning on doing something to him, but I can’t help but feel that if we knew exactly what he knew, it would all fall in place.”

  “I think you’re absolutely right. Do me a favor, Emily, if you think of anything, please call me. Here’s my business card, and I’ll put my cell phone number on the back. Thank you for seeing me and Emily, I am so sorry. My husband died last year, and it took me a long time to even want to get out of bed in the morning. I thought my life was over. Fortunately I have found there is life after death. I love having the spa, and I have a very nice man in my life. I’d like to stay in touch with you.”

  “Mrs. Lucas, this is going to sound very strange, but Mark really spoke highly of you and loved working at the lodge. I’ve always been pretty good with cooking, and he and I even talked a lot about maybe someday opening a restaurant. Now that Mark’s gone, I’m wondering if you would hire me to be your intern. I’d like to work for you.”

  “I don’t even need to think about it. I would love to have you work for me. When do you want to start?”

  “As soon as possible. I need something to take my mind off of Mark and now his murder. I’d like to start tomorrow. I could be there after I get out of my last class at noon. I decided to go back to school tomorrow.”

  “Consider it done. See you then!”

  CHAPTER 12

  Liz got in her car and decided to call Mrs. Bird and see if her slacks had been repaired. Before she left the lodge earlier that morning, she’d put a few other garments that needed repa
iring in her car, intending to give them to Mrs. Bird if she was pleased with her work. With everything that had happened the last few days, she’d completely forgotten to get in touch with her. She hoped Bertha had been right when she said Helen Bird could repair anything. Brandy Boy had done a real number on her favorite pair of slacks.

  “Hello, Mrs. Bird. It’s Liz Lucas. I’m in the neighborhood and wondered if my slacks were ready.”

  “Yes. I was going to call you, but I’ve been very busy. When can you come by?”

  “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to do it now. I can be there in about five minutes.”

  “See you then, and I think you’ll be happy with the slacks.”

  A few minutes later she pulled up in front of a brick house that looked as if the owner did nothing but clean it and keep the yard in tiptop shape every day. There wasn’t a weed in the yard or a bit of dirt on the sidewalk or porch. It was spotless. The phrase “obsessive-compulsive” seemed to be appropriate. She rang the doorbell, and it was opened immediately by Helen Bird.

  Her name was fitting. She looked birdlike with her large nose supporting glasses which were attached to a thin silver chain. Her greying hair was cut very short in a style that could only be called convenient. A piece of chalk was stuck behind her ear, and she wore the type of dress Liz’s grandmother used to call a “house dress.” It was a dress you changed into after you’d come home for the day and wanted to get comfortable. They had been very popular about sixty years ago, but not so much now. Helen Bird’s dress was blue, long sleeved, and had a small floral print scattered on it. Even though her overall appearance was that of a prim old-fashioned schoolmarm, there was something about the look in her eyes that brought the word “deranged” to Liz’s mind.

  I don’t know what it is about her, but she doesn’t seem normal. Her eyes are a little too bright, and it’s almost as if she was wound a little too tight. I have the feeling she’s going to snap at any minute like a rubber band that’s stretched to the limit. The only thing I’m going by is my niggle, but it’s been pretty accurate in the past.