Candy Slain Murder

by Maddie Day

  I picked up a magazine but dropped it after a moment. “I’m so worried,” I confided in the woman. “My aunt has been in there for a long time.”

  “My hubby has, too.” She raced through another row.

  “Who does he have for anesthesia today?” I kept my voice low. “My aunt has Doctor Geller but I don’t feel that confident about him.”

  My neighbor set her knitting in her lap and drew her mouth into a wrinkly point. She glanced around before speaking. “I’m sorry to hear that, hon. We specifically asked not to have Geller.”

  “You did? Why?”

  “Last time Hubs was in, that was who he had. My man complained of feeling pain during the procedure and was sicker than a dog after. He’s got a lot of problems and has had a half dozen surgeries in the last two years, but Geller’s the only anesthesiologist he’s ever experienced problems with.” She shook her head. “Never again.”

  “Gee, I hope my aunt comes through okay.”

  The woman patted my knee. “I’m sure she will, dear.”

  The television facing us was reporting on a horrific crash on Highway 80 north of here. We tsked and chatted for a few more minutes. I was about to leave when a door from the inside opened. All dozen people waiting in the room looked up expectantly. I blinked when I saw William Geller in scrubs and a blue surgical hat. He was about to speak to someone on his left but caught sight of me and strode in our direction, instead.

  “Do you have a relative in surgery?” he asked me.

  “Ah, no, I was keeping my friend here company.”

  Her mouth dropped open but I plowed on. I stood. “I’m sure he’ll do fine,” I said to her. “Call me once he’s home and I’ll bring over a meal.” I risked a wink at her.

  A smile spread over her broad face. “I’ll surely do that, hon.”

  “See you around South Lick, Doctor,” I said to him. I calmly walked out and didn’t look back. But once I made it to the stairwell, I sank onto the top step. Was I too stupid to live, or what? If Geller was a killer, and if the woman hadn’t gone along with my fib, he so would have had his hackles up about me. I blew out a breath. The luck of the Jordans had better hold until the killer was safely behind bars.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  When I emerged from the hospital’s revolving front door, I stopped short so fast the man who came through behind me nearly bumped into me.

  “Might want to move away from the entrance before you stop next time, Miss,” he said as he skirted me.

  “I’m sorry.” I stood still and stared as Octavia walked briskly toward me. What was she doing here? Unless . . .

  “Robbie?” She looked as bewildered to see me there as I was her. “Are you well?”

  “I’m fine. And you?”

  She frowned. “I certainly hope you weren’t here asking questions about Doctor Geller.”

  I mustered my most innocent face, or so I hoped. “Would I do that, Octavia?”

  “You know you would.”

  “Is that who you’re here to see?” I asked.

  She hesitated, then spoke. “Yes. He called and said he has something to tell me.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me tag along.” When I saw her expression, I held up a hand. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. But would you sit and talk with me for a minute?” I assumed she’d refuse, but gestured to a snow-free bench under the wide porch overhang.

  “All right, but only for a minute.”

  I was gobsmacked, as they say, but I’d take it.

  She followed me to the bench. “And only as thanks for being so generous with the information you discover on your own. Not that I encourage you to pursue said information, you understand.” She perched on the end.

  “Got it.” I took a seat at the other end, twisting to face her. “Have you made any progress in Kristina’s death? Like, how did she die, do you know yet?”

  “We’re still working on that. I have an idea, but I can’t talk about it.”

  “Have you ruled out natural causes or death by suicide?”

  “I’m sorry, Robbie, I can’t say, although as you cooperatively passed along to us, she very likely would not have gone into the attic of her own volition because of the fear she harbored. If she killed herself or died at the hand of another, it would have had to been elsewhere, and someone would have had to transport her up there.”

  “What about the safe-deposit box she—” I swore silently. Now she would know for sure I’d pored over Kristina’s diaries. But wait. I’d already admitted I’d read one of the journals, or glanced at it anyway.

  She gave me a hint of a smile. “The safe-deposit box she mentioned in the diaries? We’re still tracking that down.” She rummaged in her shoulder bag and pulled out a deck of cards.

  Cards?

  “You’re wondering why I’m showing you playing cards while we’re talking about murder.”

  “Something like that.”

  “These aren’t playing cards, exactly. They’re a deck of cold case cards. Our department got the idea from one in another state. It’s to keep these unsolved cases salient in detectives’ awareness.” She extracted the deck from its box and flashed me the top card, which read KRISTINA GELLER. “When I heard about the remains in the burnt attic, I requested that I be assigned to this case. Anybody who can delete a card from the pack—solve the case—gets great satisfaction from doing so. And I fully intend to solve this one.”

  “Good. Speaking of Kristina, why were you watching Jamie Franklin so closely last night?”

  The change in direction threw her for about three milliseconds. “He was well known to have intensely disliked his stepmother. He is still a person of interest in her death.”

  As I’d thought. “I still haven’t heard how Toni died. Can you tell me that much?”

  “We believe it was a toxin.”

  “She was poisoned?”

  “The autopsy discovered several puncture sites. The lab is still running tests to discover the nature of the poison.” She cocked her head. “Shut your mouth, Robbie. Winter flies will get in.”

  I closed my gape of astonishment, but my brain was still working hard. Who had access to drugs and syringes? Medical doctors, that’s who. “So are you thinking William Geller killed her?”

  Octavia gave me her you know I can’t tell you look over the top of her glasses and stood.

  “And what about Marcus Vandemere?” I asked, squeezing in one more inquiry before she left. “Is he really a suspect?”

  She scoffed. “Not at this time. That’s another issue I have with Mr. Franklin. Listen, I have to get going. Please don’t share any of what we talked about.”

  “I won’t.” I watched her push through the turning door. I guessed pigs could fly, after all.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  I drove away from the hospital with my mind working overtime. I made my way across town, following the GPS on my phone. I could look at the architecture on my way home. Or another time.

  Riverwoods Retirement Residences stretched out long wings on either side of a three-story building in the middle. I hadn’t realized what a big place it was going to be. The large analog clock behind the reception desk read ten-fifteen. A middle-aged woman with mousy hair and a big snaggle-toothed smile welcomed me.

  “I’m looking for Tibor Csik, but I lost his room number.”

  “Mr. Csik is in East 136. Down that hall and take a left.” She pointed a well-manicured hand. “If he’s not there, check the solarium. Keep going along past his apartment to the end. We have singing there on Monday mornings and he loves to participate.”

  “His granddaughter said she might be here, too.”

  Her smile slid away. “Yes, she’s visiting for a few days.”

  Bingo. Now for me to come up with an excuse for appearing unannounced.

  The woman pressed her lips together as if she didn’t approve. She leaned toward me, lowering her voice. “It’s against policy, but Tibor is such a charmer he convinced the d
irector to let Shirley sleep on his couch.”

  I thanked her and made my way toward 136. When I was two steps away, the door to the apartment opened. A wizened little man shorter than me emerged, wearing a tweed cap and a sweater vest over a pressed shirt and neatly knotted tie. He leaned on a red walker, the kind with the seat covering a storage pouch. Shirley followed him into the hall. Her eyes flew wide open.

  “Robbie? What are you doing here?”

  Tibor twisted his upper body as if it was hard to turn his head, but he couldn’t get far enough to see me.

  “I thought you might be here, and I wanted to see if you were okay,” I said.

  “Who is there, Shirley?” he asked, speaking with an accent.

  I hid a smile. It was exactly how Abe had described his speech, like an actor in a bad Dracula movie.

  “Nagypapa, this is Robbie Jordan, someone I know from South Lick. She owns that breakfast and lunch restaurant I’ve told you about.”

  “Come around here, young lady, so I can greet you properly.”

  I obliged, smiling and extending my hand.

  The old man took it and kissed the back lightly, bowing his head a little.“Enchanté, my dear. I am Tibor Csik. You are welcome here.” The old-world charm fit him perfectly.

  “Thank you, Mr. Csik.”

  “You may call me Tibor. It’s the modern way. Would you like to come and sing with the old folks?”

  I glanced at a frowning Shirley.

  “I’m sure Robbie is busy,” she said. “I’ll walk you down there and—”

  He interrupted her. “Edeskem, I have been walking to the solarium by myself for nine years. You stay and converse with your friend. Offer her coffee, or a small glass of sherry. I will see you when I return for my dinner.” He inclined his head slightly toward me again. “I hope you will come back, my dear.”

  “Thank you. I’d like to. And maybe Shirley can bring you to South Lick for lunch some time.”

  “That would be a treat. This old man likes to visit with pretty girls.”

  I stepped out of his way. We both watched him shuffle down the hallway until he reached an open door where notes from a piano began to float our way.

  Shirley faced me, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t get why you’re here. There’s nothing wrong with me getting away and visiting with my grandfather for a few days. You barely even know me. What’s going on?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, your landlady was murdered last week,” I said. “Your boss said you just disappeared, that you didn’t even tell her where you were going. And I heard it on good authority that you were asked not to leave Brown County.”

  She looked away, then back at me. “How did you know where I was?”

  “I didn’t. But Abe told me he thought your grandfather lived in Columbus. Since Tibor is your father’s father and you share a last name, he wasn’t really very hard to find.”

  She gave a slow nod, but her eyes narrowed. “Did the detective put you up to this? Do you work for her?”

  “No, and no. Shirley, can’t you see it looks suspicious to leave town like that?”

  She stared at me, then turned to the apartment door as if she’d made a decision. “Come in and sit down. I’ll tell you why I took off.” She unlocked the door with a key hanging from a stretchy curly yellow band around her wrist.

  I hesitated for a moment. Wasn’t I here because she was a person of interest in a homicide investigation? I mentally shrugged. There were caregivers all over the place, and I was sure every room had an alarm button for the residents to push in case of emergency.

  I followed her into a one-bedroom apartment with a postage-stamp kitchen. The sitting room was tidy but overwhelmed by dark wooden antique furniture. A violin case sat in a corner next to a music stand in front of a straight chair.

  “Sit. My grandpa wasn’t kidding when he offered sherry. He buys only the finest and is in the habit of taking a glass before his midday meal, what he calls dinner.” She turned to a bottle sitting on a silver tray and poured into a small stemmed glass etched with flowers. “Want a taste? It’s a little early, but I’m having some.”

  Why not? “Thank you, but not too much.” I didn’t have to do more than sip from the glass she handed me.

  She poured herself a full measure and sat opposite me next to an end table with a silver oval picture frame in a place of honor. “That’s him and my grandmother back in Hungary.”

  “I wondered what his accent was.” She handed me the picture. Both were dressed formally, and neither husband nor wife was smiling. I handed it back. “How long has he been in this country?”

  “They were intellectuals and musicians and had to flee in the fifties. All he brought was his violin. I never knew my grandmother. She was so weakened by their escape she died giving birth to my dad.” Shirley sipped her sherry. She turned the glass in her hand, staring at it.

  “That’s so sad,” I murmured, also sipping. This was extraordinarily good sherry, as smooth as velvet going down with a remarkable and subtle flavor I couldn’t even begin to identify. I waited for her to tell me why she’d made her own escape from South Lick.

  She took a deep breath, then looked me full in the face. “My family has suffered horribly at the hands of police. Regular police, AVO—the Hungarian secret police—detectives, prison officials, you name it. They’ve ruined our lives for decades. Not only my grandparents. My father, too. Nagypapa—my grandpa—is a fine man, but he didn’t know how to be a single father, and there wasn’t any other family around. Daddy got in with some bad sorts in high school. After he got out of the service—and after my brother and I were born—he was convicted of murder. He’s spending life in prison, over in Pekin, Illinois.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “And then there’s my poor brother. He’s never been right mentally, and he stole a car. He’s in prison for a felony and doesn’t even understand why. He’s bullied by guards and prisoners alike. When those two, the detective and the lieutenant, came asking me questions about my rotten landlady’s death, it put me over the top. I couldn’t stand Toni, but I didn’t kill her, Robbie. I swear. I just had to get out of town.”

  “I understand.” Pretty much what Abe had told me. At least the eldest Csik seemed to be clear and free of the criminal justice system. I wanted to ask her about what I’d discovered last night but decided not to. When I finally spoke I used a gentle tone. “You need to contact the detective or Buck, Shirley, and tell them what you told me. It’ll help them understand. Buck is a really good guy, and Octavia is fair.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe they’ll trump up charges and I’ll really have to go underground.” Her eyes turned hard as she traced the oval frame of a photograph taken in an Eastern Europe that no longer existed.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  I stood outside the South Lick Provident Bank at eleven-thirty after depositing my considerable till from the last few days since I’d never gotten there on Saturday. It felt good to get the cash out of my safe and into an insured institution. After I’d left Shirley’s, I felt I had no choice but to text Octavia that she was at Riverwoods. Shirley wouldn’t like it, but I was sure Octavia would operate within the law and with justice. I’d never known her not to. And if I wanted her to keep telling me things, I would have to hold up my end of the limbo stick. I wasn’t completely sure I believed Shirley’s reason for leaving town, anyway.

  I’d also skipped the walking tour of fabulous buildings in Columbus. Many of the older ones were on the National Historic Register and, unless a tornado hit, they would be there the next time I visited. I hadn’t stayed for a Gom, either. I’d get one when I returned, for sure.

  Now I glanced up and down South Lick’s main street. The cloud-free sky of the early morning persisted, with temps in the thirties. Half of yesterday’s snow had already melted, so sidewalks were wet. The place would turn into a skating rink when it went below freezing tonight, but that was life in southern Indiana. Thaw,
freeze, thaw, freeze. Rinse and repeat.

  At the click of high-heeled boots, I turned in the direction of City Hall to see Corrine busily making her way along the sidewalk.

  “Robbie, hey there,” she called. “Hold on up, would you?”

  I waved back and waited. A text came in from Adele at the same time as Corrine’s arrival. I shoved the phone back in my jacket pocket.

  “How’s Danna?” I asked her.

  The mayor looked skyward for a moment, then back at me. “That girl’s in a mess of trouble with me, but she seems to have evaded criminal charges. I’d heard a few rumblings here and there about her brother’s temper. If anything, he was the calm one last night, from all reports, including yours.”

  “And Danna told me he didn’t get a concussion, so that’s good.”

  “Indeed it is.” She glanced both ways and lowered her voice. “But I have me a piece of real news for you.”

  I waited, but she just looked bright-eyed at me. “So?” I made a rolling gesture with my hand.

  “Heared on the scanner William Geller confessed to Detective Slade he found his wife dead on the floor. He was worried he’d get the blame, because everybody knew how unhappy they were. So he upped and carried her to the attic, bum leg and all.”

  “Seriously? Wow.”

  “Wow is exactly right. He plum left her there to rot. Can you even believe it?”

  “I’m not sure I can, actually.” That was a lot to take in. I didn’t trust a man who would beat his spouse, not about anything, whether he was a member of the AMA or a stonecutter. “What if he’s lying? And did he say how she died?”

  “Said he couldn’t tell. Mind you, all this wasn’t on the scanner, but I got me on the horn with our buddy Buck and he filled me in on the details. The doc said he thought he saw Toni leaving the house as he approached.” She wagged her head. “Killed her very own wombmate.”