Mint Juleps, Mayhem, and Murder
Page 18
“He was here? Inside?” she asked, as she leaned forward, then drifted backward.
“He said he and Bonnie had brought in your mail for you. That’s how he knew where the key was.”
She nodded. “Yes…last summer.” She gazed around the room, her vision shifting bumpily from one piece of furniture to another, then she snapped back to me. “We’re not out of town now. He didn’t need to bring in the mail today.”
“No. He said he needed something and didn’t want to bother you.”
She frowned. “What could he need? Except for Lewis’s job,” she finished bitterly. The surprise must have shown on my face. “Oh, they think I don’t know, but I do. I know Rich wants the commander position. Well, at least I think that’s what he wants. I know it’s what Bonnie wants and therefore,” she stumbled on the word, but managed to get it out before concluding with “it’s what Rich wants. Whatever Bonnie wants, Bonnie gets,” Denise said, pointing her finger at me for emphasis. The mug tilted crazily, but she righted it and took a sip. “You know, I think this might finally be working. I’m off to bed. Will you let yourself out?” She stood and took a moment to make sure she had her balance.
“How about I walk you back there?” I wasn’t sure she’d actually make it into bed.
We were shuffling through the living room, when the doorbell rang. “You get it,” she said and gripped the back of a chair.
I looked through the peephole, then asked, “Were you expecting Detective Waraday?”
Tips for Busy, Budget-Minded Moms
Meal Planning Made Simple
Plan meals during the week that have similar ingredients.
Double the ingredients that can be used again in another recipe—that way you cook once and eat twice.
For instance:
Monday—Spaghetti with red sauce. (Make a double batch of red sauce and save half for the next meal.)
Tuesday—Baked chicken. (Bake double the amount of chicken you need for the meal and save half.)
Wednesday—Baked ziti. (Use leftover red sauce.)
Thursday—Use cooked chicken to make chicken salad sandwiches, a chicken casserole, or toss chicken with a salad of romaine lettuce, dried cranberries, walnuts, and crumbled bacon bits.
Friday—Tacos with ground beef. (Make double portion of ground beef.)
Saturday—Use extra ground beef for a Mexican casserole, burritos, or taco salad.
Chapter Seventeen
Denise looked at the door uncertainly. “No…I don’t think so, but everything is so bleary now.”
I opened the door and Detective Waraday’s face registered surprise. “Mrs. Avery. What are you doing here?”
“Looks like I could ask you the same thing,” I said. Before he could say anything else, the female investigator who’d been with him at the funeral walked up the sidewalk and stepped in front of him.
“Special Agent Kelly Montigue,” she said. “And you are?” Her flyaway brown hair was cut in a no-nonsense bob around her elongated face. She had wide gray eyes and a thin build and still wore a pantsuit with a blue and white striped shirt. She looked like she was probably in her early thirties, but I had a feeling that she might be another of those people who tended to look younger than their actual age, something she and Waraday had in common.
“Ellie Avery, a friend of Denise’s.”
Waraday added, “Mrs. Avery is the one with the theory about the squadron coins.”
“Ah.” There was plenty of meaning in that one sound. Basically, it translated, “Oh, so you’re the crackpot.” Aloud, she said, “No wonder your name sounded familiar.” Her gaze traveled around the small living room and settled on Denise, who was still clinging to the back of the chair and seemed to be drifting to one side.
I explained that I’d been at a supper club down the street and had seen Denise in the front yard. “I came down to check on her. I was worried. She’s taken a sleeping pill and I think it’s just now kicking in.”
Montigue and Waraday exchanged a look, then Montigue walked over to Denise and said, “Mrs. Pershall, I’m Special Agent Kelly Montigue. Do you remember me? Detective Waraday and I are investigating your husband’s death.”
Denise nodded, but didn’t seem to care. “I think I’ll sit down,” she said and carefully gripped the arm of the chair as she stepped around it. She sank into it, fighting to keep her eyes open.
Montigue handed her a piece of paper. “This is a search warrant. It gives us the authority to look around your house.”
“Fine,” Denise said vaguely. She didn’t even open the paper, just put it in her lap and stifled a yawn.
I hurried over and scanned the document, plowing through the dense legal text until I found what I was looking for. “Denise, this says they have the right to look for…knitting needles?” I handed the warrant back to Denise and turned to Waraday.
Before he could say anything, Denise waved her hand at the couch, “Over there in my knitting basket.”
Montigue snapped on gloves as she walked to the couch. She examined a large round basket placed between the arm of the couch and a small end table. She carefully pulled out balls of yarn in a rainbow of hues and lined them up on the coffee table. Long metal needles clicked as she placed them beside the yarn. Denise yawned and her jaw cracked. She was the only one in the room unaware of the tension. I told myself to relax. There was nothing to worry about. Denise was innocent and they wouldn’t find anything. And why were they looking for knitting needles, anyway? Colonel Pershall hadn’t been stabbed.
Montigue sat back on her heels and I could tell by her expression of satisfaction that she’d found what she’d been looking for. She took a camera out of her jacket pocket and clicked a few photos, then pulled out a short, thick metal stick from the basket. A slender metal wire connected to the end of the stick uncoiled as she raised the stick in the air. She held it as if she were handling a venomous snake. As she raised her arm, I could see a matching stick attached to the other end of the wire. “Mrs. Pershall, I’m going to take this with me,” she said.
A soft snore sounded beside me. All my attention had been focused on Montigue. I shifted around to Denise. She was curled up in one corner of the chair, her head tilted to one side and her feet tucked up under her. The search warrant had drifted to the floor.
I glanced from Denise, her face smooth and vacant in sleep, to the thin cord connecting the needles. I’d seen them before. What had Denise called them? Circular needles, that was it.
My thoughts flittered through information. They had to be searching for the murder weapon. Abby had said at the hospital that Colonel Pershall had been strangled, but there had been no word about what had been used to strangle him. Megan had heard he’d been strangled with a kudzu vine, but even at the time, I’d thought that was probably a rumor. Since the sheriff’s department hadn’t released the information about what had been used to strangle him, they were either keeping that bit of information to themselves for a reason or they didn’t know yet. As I watched Montigue put the needles in an evidence bag, I got the feeling it was the second option. Their interest in the circular needles seemed to indicate that the murder weapon was a wire and that would mean Colonel Pershall had been garroted.
“There’s more,” Montigue said, examining a rolling bag propped up near the couch. I recognized the brightly patterned bag. It was the one that Denise loaded with her knitting supplies and took with her when she was out of the house. She’d been working on a sweater at the last spouse coffee. Montigue clicked off more pictures, then began transferring more circular needles to evidence bags.
Mitch poked his head in the still-open front door and said, “Ellie? You ready—” He broke off when he spotted Waraday and Montigue.
Mitch stepped inside the door and nodded to the investigators, saying, “Evening, sir, ma’am.” Then he raised his eyebrows as he looked at me.
I hurried over to the front door. “Mitch, they’re searching her house. Denise took a sleeping pi
ll and it’s finally kicked in, but I can’t leave her now.”
“Let me get Abby to come stay with her. It’s getting late,” Mitch said.
“We do need to get the kids home and in bed,” I agreed, “but I need to tell them about Colonel Barnes.” I hadn’t been able to talk in much depth to Denise about why Colonel Barnes might have been in her house, but she certainly hadn’t known he was there, and now there was no need to warn her that the police might show up since they were already on the scene. “Why don’t you go ahead? I’m sure Abby or Jeff can run me home.”
He paused and I could tell he was running through other options. He must not have been able to come up with a better one. I said, “I’d rather trade with you and take the kids home, but I’m the one who saw Colonel Barnes.”
Waraday joined us. Montigue was moving around the room, checking drawers and cushions. “Saw who, Mrs. Avery?” he asked as Montigue disappeared down the hallway toward the bedrooms.
Mitch glanced at Waraday, then said to me, “Give me a call when you’re done so I’ll know you’re on the way home.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “Be careful.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant be careful what I told Waraday or if it was a more general warning. I felt a little annoyed. Of course, I’d be careful. I knew weird things were going on and I wasn’t going to take any chances. And if I wasn’t safe with two law enforcement professionals in the same room, well, I was in big trouble. Montigue emerged from the hallway and said, “Nothing in the bedrooms.”
Mitch pulled the minivan away from the curb and I turned to Waraday. “I came by here today…”
I broke off as Denise shifted in the chair, then rubbed her eyes. She blurrily surveyed the room. In her groggy state, I could tell it was too much for her to take in. “What’s going on? Detective…”
Her voice trailed off and Montigue, who was still carrying the first set of circular needles, said crisply, “Mrs. Pershall, your circular knitting needles—”
“Go ahead. I don’t need them,” she interrupted as she leaned forward and focused with an effort. “Not mine, anyway. The length is too short. Mine have a longer cord, at least twenty-nine inches. I’m going to bed,” she announced and tottered unsteadily out of the room.
The three of us exchanged a quick glance, then I volunteered, “I’ll go make sure she’s okay.” I followed her back to the bedroom and found her sleeping soundly under the covers still in her robe. She was sleeping as hard as Nathan, my championship sleeper. I clicked off the light and shut the door, glad that at least she’d get some rest.
When I returned to the living room Waraday already had out his pen and notebook. He was sitting in the chair Denise had vacated. Montigue had moved into the kitchen. “You had something you wanted to share?” Waraday asked.
“Yes.” I sat down on the couch, my gaze traveling over the balls of yarn still ranged across the coffee table and the gaping bag of knitting supplies. “I came by here before Colonel Pershall’s funeral.” I explained about Denise’s request to pick up the picture. “When I got here, Colonel Barnes was already in the house.”
Waraday frowned. “Inside?”
“Yes. In the bedroom they use as a study. I could hear him moving around back there, but I didn’t know it was him, so I was moving toward the door when a gust of wind blew it closed and he came out to see what the noise was.” I gave Colonel Barnes’s explanation of why he’d been there and Waraday wrote it all down.
“Did he have anything with him?” Waraday’s pen drummed out a quick beat on the notebook.
“He was holding a stack of papers.”
“Anything else?” Waraday said in an even, almost bored tone.
Did I have to spell it out for him? I scooted forward to the edge of the cushion. “It’s no secret that he’s ambitious. He wants the squadron commander position.” I paused for a moment, not sure if I wanted to mention Bonnie’s name. She might actually be the more ambitious one of the pair, but he was the one who’d benefit the most from Colonel Pershall’s death, if he became the next squadron commander.
“Anything else?” Waraday repeated.
“Isn’t that enough? He was at the golf course when Colonel Pershall died. He could have used the needles to kill Colonel Pershall and then planted them here to incriminate Denise—he was here in the house alone and would have had time to arrange everything so that Denise would look guilty. And he was around the cars at the graveside service. Don’t you see? He has connections to all the incidents and he’s trying to benefit from Colonel Pershall’s death. He wants to be the next squadron commander. In fact, he thinks he should have had the job in the first place instead of Colonel Pershall.”
Waraday said blandly, “Interesting.”
I’d been leaning forward as I talked, but at Waraday’s tepid response, I threw myself back against the pillows. “You don’t think Colonel Barnes is involved.” It was a statement, not a question.
Waraday gazed at me for a moment, then said, “I didn’t say that.”
“Well, you certainly don’t seem very excited by what I’ve told you.”
“I could be leaping up and down inside for all you know,” Waraday said, deadpan. Then he cracked a small smile. “Playing everything close to the vest is part of the job, ma’am.”
He closed the notebook and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not saying that what you’ve told me isn’t interesting. It will be investigated, but there are other…issues that we have to pursue, issues that indicate the investigation is progressing in the right direction.” He tapped the side of the notebook with his pen. The sound of cabinet doors opening and closing came from the kitchen in the silence, then Waraday said, “Were you aware of any conflicts between Colonel Pershall and Mrs. Pershall?” When I didn’t respond right away, he added, “Any disagreements? Fights?”
“I never saw them fight or even argue,” I said carefully.
“Any rumors going around about their marriage?”
“No. None.” At least that question I could answer unequivocally. He was actually giving away more information than he was getting from me. I intended to keep my answers as short as possible on this topic.
Waraday adjusted the arm cover slightly as he asked, “Did Denise ever say she was leaving Colonel Pershall?”
“No,” I said, but my heart sank. They knew. Again, technically, I wasn’t lying. Denise had told me she’d made preparations for a divorce, but she’d never announced she was leaving Colonel Pershall. “I’m sure they had their issues, but I’m also sure they loved each other. Are you saying they had marriage problems?”
Waraday studied me for a moment and I had the urge to squirm, but I forced myself to stay still. “I’m not saying anything, but the evidence indicates she was planning to leave him.”
I pretended shock as I said, “I find that hard to believe.” I still had trouble wrapping my mind around the concept, so it wasn’t that hard to fake the emotion. I realized Waraday’s gaze had dropped to my hands, which were clasped together in my lap. I relaxed my grip. He’d only asked the questions to see my reactions, I realized. He already suspected that Denise had confided in me. Had I just sabotaged any chance that the investigation would look at anyone but Denise? “You will look into Colonel Barnes, right?”
His gaze snapped back to my eyes and I thought I saw a trace of a smile. “Yes, ma’am. All leads are pursued, but let’s look at the things you mentioned one at a time.”
“He was with Colonel Pershall on the course. True. He admits to being there, but no one can place him in the parking lot at Colonel Pershall’s car where the attack occurred. That’s not to say he wasn’t there, but we have no eye witnesses or forensic evidence to place him there.”
He’d been holding up one finger and now he raised a second finger. “Second, he was around the cars shortly before the explosions. Again, true. He admits to being there, says his wife needed a tissue and he went to get one for her from their car.”
“But I wasn’t trying to plant evidence or search for something or whatever he was doing,” I said, irritated that Waraday had paired me with Colonel Barnes.
“No, I don’t believe you were doing any of those things, but you do have an agenda, helping your friend stay clear of murder charges,” he said, his gaze boring into me.
I sat up straight in the chair. “Yes, because she didn’t do it. I know Denise and I know she’d never murder her husband.”
“Well, Mrs. Avery, I hope for your sake that you’re right,” he said as he stood, and suddenly his voice and his face looked older. “I hope you’re not disappointed and your faith isn’t misplaced.”
I stood, too, and Montigue came back from the kitchen. I realized I hadn’t heard any sounds from the kitchen for the last few minutes and I suspected that she’d finished her search and had stayed out of the living room so Waraday could finish questioning me.
“Looks like we’re finished here, Mrs. Avery,” Waraday said as Montigue picked up the evidence bags.
“I’ll go out with you,” I said. There was no need to stick around for Denise. She wouldn’t be awake for hours, but I would ask Abby to check on her in the morning. “I’ll dead bolt the front door behind you and then leave through the kitchen door that leads to the carport. It locks automatically.”
I left Denise a note on the kitchen table, turned off the lights, then stepped into the carport and pulled the door closed behind me.
A dark form moved out of the shadows of the carport and I started, jumping backward.