“Well, if that’s all it was, why are you here?” I asked.
James Rush stopped what he was doing and glanced at Lon.
Lon cleared his throat. “Hey, I just got a call from dispatch. What do I know?” He shrugged.
The medical examiner arrived. The guests drew back the lace curtains and peered out the windows as the ME did a five-minute preliminary examination. I’m afraid I stared, too. When the ME moved back, other people stepped in with cameras and other equipment and did their bit. Finally, they put Harrison Lawson into a body bag and carried him out.
“What’s it look like, Sam?” Lon asked. “Heart attack?”
“I’m unclear. I’ll need his medical history, of course, and I’ll have to do an autopsy to be sure. Pour me a belt there, will you, son?” Sam said to Rush who still played host. Sam turned his lined and worn face in my direction and nodded. I remembered the old man from when I’d worked for the county. He had to be close to retirement.
“Could it have been something else? Could there have been another cause of death?” Lon asked.
“Possibly, but like I said, the autopsy . . . ” Sam said, as his eyes met Lon’s.
“So you think it was natural causes?” Lon asked.
“How many times do I have to say it?” Sam said.
Rush handed a tall glass to Sam.
“That’s a good boy,” Sam said and emptied the glass with one long swallow. “Check with me later, Lon,” he said. “I’ll be able to tell you a whole lot more.” He banged the glass down on the bar and left.
“Sure you don’t want that drink now, Detective?” Rush asked.
“Can’t—on duty. I’ll take a water like Mavis. Now, you say everyone was standing around and all of a sudden the man just drops dead?”
“Yes. He groaned or at least made some kind of noise. He was in the middle of a conversation with Miss Davis here, swallowed from his drink, and fell down. Bart pronounced him dead,” Rush said.
“Bart—that’s the doctor that’s upstairs with the missus?”
“Yes. Actually, he’s a plastic surgeon, but he agreed to stay with her until her family physician could be reached to come over.” Rush poured himself another generous ration of liquor and took a drink from it. Trying to fill up his hollow leg, I imagine.
“Tell me, Mr. Rush, who do you know that would like to have seen Mr. Lawson dead?” Lon asked.
Rush’s harsh laughter surprised me. “Aren’t you jumping to conclusions?”
Lon said, “Humor me.”
“Well, that’s hard to say, Lon. Any number of people who he stepped on during his rise to the top. You know he was president of the board and managing director of National Insurance Trust?”
Lon shook his head. He sat on a bar stool next to me. I thought he’d drool if he didn’t quit staring at the booze bottles perched on the bar. He unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie. “He had a lot of power.”
“Yes. Actually, he’d mellowed quite a bit in the past ten or eleven years. He could still be brusque at times, but usually his heart wasn’t in it.” Rush looked at me. “You realize he was just giving you a hard time for the fun of it, don’t you, Miss Davis?”
“It was a barrel of laughs,” I said. I wanted a cigarette in the worst way. Or at least a piece of chocolate.
Lon ignored me and turned back to Rush. “Why do you think he’d mellowed?”
Rush tipped his glass up for another swallow before answering. “Simple. He’d gotten what he wanted.”
“Well, I guess that’s all, Mr. Rush,” Lon said. “We’ll be in contact if there’s anything else. Don’t want to keep you.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Rush said with a smooth look. “All right if I stay around? You might need my help.”
“Not at all,” Lon said. “Be glad to have you.”
I was trying to be patient while the mutual admiration society finished its meeting. It was obvious that Lon was in awe of this man—that he thought the G. in James G. Rush stood for God. It was also obvious that Rush was buttering up Lon. For what reason I’d have to get to the bottom of later. All I knew was that I wanted to get my turn over and get out. I still had children to locate.
Finally, Lon seemed to remember I was there. “What are you waiting for, Mavis, get outta here.”
I grinned, left the bottle of water on the bar, and made haste toward the door.
“Just be available if I want you later,” he called after me. Without turning around, I waved. I wasn’t giving him a chance to change his mind.
Chapter Seven
On my way home, I stopped by the office to check my messages. Candy and Margaret were still there.
“Couldn’t wait until Monday, huh?” I said when I flung open the door. They were sitting at their desks behind the counter, talking.
Margaret’s presence surprised me. Of late, she had been quick to go home in the evenings. Recently, she had acquired a boyfriend, but I think she thought that I didn’t know that it was, for her, a serious affair.
Candy usually didn’t waste any time leaving at five, either. Maybe her presence was a sign of maturity, that she was feeling some responsibility. I hoped so.
“Margaret, I’m glad you’re here. Google heart attack symptoms for me, would you?” I asked.
Candy jumped up and ran to me. “Tommy called, Mavis.”
Not sure that I had the energy to handle any more surprises, I sagged when I got to the counter. “What’d he say?”
Margaret interceded. “He said to tell you that he’s okay, that you don’t have to look for Jeanine anymore, that they’re together, and you could keep the money.” Margaret’s eyes shot daggers at Candy. “Before I could ask him anything more, the phone disconnected.”
Before I let them say another word, I locked up, stepped out of my shoes, and padded through the swinging door into the kitchen to light a fire under the kettle. There wasn’t anything else they could say that couldn’t wait until I brewed a cup of tea.
Candy and Margaret exchanged a few slightly heated words before following after me. By then, I had the kettle filled and on the burner and had propped myself up in a chair. I massaged my feet. Standing on that concrete around the swimming pool made the bottoms ache. “Is the computer still on?”
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Candy asked.
“Yes, Margaret, please Google heart attack symptoms for me, okay?” They didn’t know it, but they were getting my reaction. I was tired.
Margaret left the kitchen. The silence was broken only by the gas flames hissing under the kettle and Candy’s anticipatory breathing. Then the bell of the phone pierced the quiet. I snatched the kitchen extension, “Mavis Davis.”
“It’s me.” Ben’s low voice seemed to echo loudly through the line.
“Hi,” I said, realizing there was a sigh in my voice. I must be more overtaxed than I thought.
“What’s up? I tried you at home, but didn’t get an answer.” The note of concern in his voice made me feel good. “What are you doing at the office so late?”
“I know you’re not going to believe this, Ben, but I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Uh-oh,” he said. “What happened now?”
I hated to tell him, but it would not do our relationship any good for him to hear about it at the police station. “Well, you know that boy who was here yesterday?”
“Uh-huh.”
Margaret returned with a handful of printer paper.
“Well—I was in the middle of a conversation with his father when the man dropped dead at my feet.”
Candy sucked breath. So did Ben. The water boiled. The whistling of the kettle resounded off the walls. With the telephone receiver tucked into my shoulder, I grabbed my oversized teacup from the edge of the sink, pulled a teabag out of the box, filled the cup with water, and Ben still hadn’t said anything.
“Hey. Are you still there, Ben?”
“Yep. What was the cause of death?
”
“I don’t know. Everybody said it looked like a heart attack.”
“But you don’t think so, is that it?” Ben asked. He knew me so well.
“Holy shit,” Candy said and ducked when I frowned in her direction.
Margaret just shook her head slowly as she watched me. I scribbled the word stroke on a paper napkin and she left the kitchen again.
“I haven’t done anything wrong, Ben. It just happened.” I held the tea bag by its string and bobbed it up and down in the water, waiting for his next words, and thinking how good it would feel to pull the sheets up over my toes and drop my head to my pillow when I finally got home.
“I’m coming right over,” Ben said.
“No—don’t—”
The phone clicked, and the dial tone hummed. I held out the receiver so Candy could hear before I hung up. Discarding the tea bag, I dumped sweetener and milk into my cup and fell back into my chair.
“There are over three million heart attack sites on the Internet,” Margaret said from the doorway. “I printed out some information from the first one. Strokes are almost as bad.”
I snatched the papers from her hand.
“Tommy’s case is getting to be a mess, isn’t it, Mavis?” Margaret asked in a quiet voice.
“You said it.” The hot tea felt good as it burned its way down my throat.
“Tommy’s father died while you were at their house?” Candy asked.
“That’s what I said, Candy,” I answered a bit too sharply.
“Wow.” She clutched her backpack to her chest.
Glancing at the first few pages, I saw that the symptoms seemed to match except for one or two things.
“What’s wrong, Mavis?” Margaret asked.
“Something’s not right here.” I felt downcast, disheartened, and yes, still overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Margaret, could you Google poison symptoms?”
“So you think it could be murder?” Candy asked, jumping out of her chair and waving her arms about. “This could be our second murder case.”
“I haven’t been hired to solve a murder, Candy.” I leaned back and envied her energy. “If it is a murder.”
“Like you still have Tommy’s case, though,” Candy said.
“Not from what y’all said when I came in. He’s fired me.
“Like when did you let a little thing like that stop you?” Candy asked, getting in my face. “Besides, you know, we didn’t get a chance to tell you how mysterious the phone call was.”
Margaret returned. “There’s over a million poison Web sites.”
“So how mysterious was the phone call, ladies?” I asked. I couldn’t deal with the Internet when I was so tired. It would have to wait. Besides, Ben was fixing to arrive and jump my case for something I didn’t do.
“The operator,” Candy said as she put down her book bag and bopped over to the refrigerator, sticking her head inside.
“What operator?”
“You tell her, Margaret,” Candy said. “Like Margaret took the call while I was in the bathroom.” She pulled out a soda and popped the top on it, slurping from the can.
Margaret’s eyes shined. She stood with importance, her hands folded in front of her. She wet her lips before she began. “Well, Mavis, I was just sitting here waiting for you to come back and tell us what had transpired at the Lawson home. Candy told me that’s where you’d gone. This was after I got back from serving the subpoenas, after you dropped Candy off. I did get them served okay, by the way.”
“Good.” I wasn’t sure I had the patience for this, but I smiled encouragingly at Margaret and nodded my head.
“Anyway, as I was saying, I was sitting behind the counter at the telephone. Candy had been answering it while I was gone and actually since I’d come back because she said you said for her to answer it because it might be one of the kids from her school, but Candy was in the bathroom, like she said. It rang and I picked it up and said hello.” Margaret smiled broadly.
I could tell she was getting to the good part and watched her without enthusiasm.
“I heard some noise in the background—just briefly—and then the operator said, ‘Go ahead, sir.’” She stopped and stared at me.
I stared back, my mouth slack as I waited. She didn’t say anything else. My eyes went to Candy who was gulping down her drink. No one said anything. “Yes?”
“That’s it,” Margaret said.
“That’s what?”
“Like, don’t you get it, Mavis?” Candy cried.
“Get what?”
“The operator.”
“Yes . . . the operator?”
“It was an out-of-town call, Mavis,” Margaret said, her eyes as large as DVDs. “It wasn’t on a cell phone or a regular phone line. It had to be some kind of assisted call.”
“Okay. So?”
“So Tommy was like calling from out of town,” Candy practically yelled. “That means that if he and Jeanine are together, like they’re not home, you know, and like they’re out of town, then it must be a kidnapping.”
“How do you figure?”
“See, Mavis,” Margaret started very slowly, patiently, like she was speaking to a small child. “We figure that the kidnappers gave Tommy exact change for a long-distance phone call. Then, they told him precisely what to say. Then, after he said it, they hung up the phone before he could give us any more information.”
“Or any clues,” Candy said as she tripped around the room.
“Oh . . . right,” I said, my eyes rolling up to the ceiling in spite of myself.
“You don’t think so, Mavis?” Margaret asked, sounding hurt.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said.
“Aw,” Candy said.
“You guys kill me,” I said. “Tommy said he was okay, right?”
“Yes,” Margaret replied.
“He didn’t say anyone was demanding money or anything, did he?”
“No,” Margaret said.
“So what indication did he give you that he needed our help?”
“Well, why would he hang up just like that?” Candy asked.
I shook my head. “Did it ever occur to either one of you that maybe something is going on that we don’t know about?”
They exchanged glances and bowed their heads. They were both pros at hang-dog looks.
“The whole family situation is more than a little strange,” I said in defense of myself.
Both of them lifted their eyes to stare at me silently.
“Well it is, whether you two like it or not. Number one,” I held out a forefinger. “Tommy comes to us yesterday with a story about how his dear little rich sister with a bad temper is gone, and he thinks she’s been kidnapped. Number two, her own mother says she thinks the kid’s a runaway. Who knows better than a mother?” They exchanged looks again. “Number three, I get to the Lawson house, and they’re having people over for cocktails and a cookout. Don’t you think that’s a little weird? Number whatever, something causes Mr. Lawson to drop dead, then Tommy calls here at about the same time. On top of that, some lady told me that those kids were adopted and implied that there was something significant about it. Come on, you two don’t think there’s more to this than meets the eye?”
“We just think Tommy’s in trouble, that’s all,” Margaret whispered into her lap.
Candy nodded and actually squeezed Margaret’s shoulder.
I gulped my tea and enjoyed feeling the warmth cascade down inside my chest as I studied their faces. “What’s it going to take to convince you girls that we don’t need to be involved in this?”
Candy jumped up. “A face-to-face talk with Tommy.”
Margaret said, “I think you should at least go back and tell his mother that he called and said he’s all right. The poor woman has so much on her mind right now—husband dead and children missing. Poor little thing.”
“If you’d seen her, Margaret, you wouldn’t call her that.”
; “Well . . . you’re the boss, Mavis,” Margaret said.
“Thanks a lot, Margaret.”
There was a sharp banging on the door. I shook my head at them as I got up to let Ben in. “Don’t say anything about what I said about Mr. Lawson. And Margaret, hide that printout and shut down the computer. Hurry.”
I took my time peeking out to confirm it was Ben. He looked very handsome in a coat and tie. He must have had to testify in court. When I opened the door, offering up my cheek for him to kiss, he brushed past me, rather rudely, but not unexpectedly. Closing the door behind him, I pushed past him in return. “Come on in the kitchen and join the fun.”
I sat back in my chair, pulled my feet up under me, and looked up at Ben. After he’d greeted Margaret and Candy, I offered him something to drink.
“Nope,” he said, not quite harshly. He swung the fourth chair around backwards and straddled it. “Spill it, Mavis.”
I began. I told him everything I thought he ought to know. His eyes did the narrowing bit as I recounted what had happened. When I was finished, he said, “That’s not so bad. You’re really not involved in murder, are you?”
“No, just runaways.” I dared not mention that Candy and Margaret thought it was a kidnapping.
The Sweet Scent of Murder Page 6