Murder, Mayhem and Bliss (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 1)

by Loulou Harrington

  “So, now I need to ask you a question.” Vivian’s voice pulled Joe away from his mental tirade and returned him to the library and the job at hand.

  “Is it Harold?” she asked quietly once she had his attention.

  He saw no sentiment in her, just a need to know, and could well imagine that Harry Kerr might not be one of Vivian’s favorite people, not if she knew a fraction of what Bliss had hinted at in her interview. Which brought his thoughts back to the scene of what could be construed as celebration in the garden when he arrived. And of Jesse Camden’s appearance with a pot of coffee almost simultaneously.

  “Sheriff?” Vivian prodded. “Has something happened to Harold?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It has.” He saw no need not to tell her and was more than a little interested in her reaction.

  Vivian frowned and let out a long sigh. She sat there for a while, just thinking, and he waited in silence. When she looked him in the eye again, he saw a fierce determination with not a shred of grief.

  “Bliss doesn’t know?” she asked.

  “Well, now,” Joe said, “that’s part of what I came here to find out. She wouldn’t appear to know, but to the best of my knowledge, she was home at the time of death.”

  “What did he die of?”

  “The autopsy is still being performed, and we have no real information at the moment.”

  “Was it an accident, natural causes? What?”

  He felt like he was the one being grilled, and he didn’t like it one bit. But Bliss Kerr was their first and best suspect, if Kerr’s death wasn’t an accident, and Vivian Windsor had too much power to trifle with, so Joe decided to play nice for the time being. “We have no apparent cause of death at this time.”

  “Are you being deliberately obtuse, or are you just fishing for a reaction?” Vivian demanded, growing more determined by the minute. “Was he in bed? Did he fall down the stairs? What?!”

  Continuing to hold tight to his temper, he answered evenly, “The body was in the pool.”

  She snorted, a sound of half disgust, half denial. “The man swam like a fish. Even drunk, he shouldn’t have drowned. When did it happen?”

  “Apparently in the middle of the night.”

  Vivian’s head dropped back against the chair and she stared at the ceiling, frowning. “That pool was his baby,” she said slowly. “He loved it. Who would have thought he would die there?”

  Liking the give and take that was developing, Joe decided to go with it. “Did he often take moonlight swims?”

  She shook her head. “No moonlight to it. He kept that pool lit up like a ballfield at night. It drove Bliss crazy.”

  “Did she ever use the pool at night?”

  “They threw occasional parties down there. I don’t know if you noticed the inlaid tile work, but Harold was very proud of his pool.” Vivian finally broke her study of the ceiling and dropped her gaze back to the man questioning her. “Bliss doesn’t swim. She used the pool to sunbathe in the afternoon to even out the farmer’s tan she gets from gardening.”

  “Farmer’s tan?” Joe repeated. It had nothing to do with the case, if there was a case, but sometimes he just got curious.

  “You know.” Vivian pointed to her arm. “From the bottom of your shirtsleeve to the top of your gardening gloves, and from the bottom of your shorts to the top of your sneakers. It’s unavoidable, so you have to keep it balanced out if you don’t want to look like a checkerboard.”

  Joe wanted to ask more questions, but knew he was getting too far off track. “So, she doesn’t get into the pool herself?” he asked, bringing things back on point.

  “Well, if there are people around, she’ll get in on a floaty, but never by herself, and never in water over her head. It drove Harold wild when they were younger. He was always mad for anything to do with the water.”

  Joe hated to tip his hand, but he was going to have to say it eventually, and he wanted to get her reaction separate from her niece.

  “There was something odd about the scene. He was fully clothed. In a suit and dress shoes.”

  Vivian’s eyes widened, and she looked plainly shocked. The thing that bothered him the most, apparently bothered her as well.

  “Harold was a lot of things,” she said, “and not all of them pleasant, but he wasn’t a fool. He liked his clothes too well to go jumping into a pool fully dressed. And even if he had, he would never have drowned. Something had to have happened to him.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He was a lifeguard in high school. He can not only swim fully clothed, he can do it carrying another body that’s fully clothed. Something had to have happened,” she said again. “And probably not a heart attack. He was quite the sportsman, and still fairly fit.”

  “Well, I really appreciate your taking the time to talk to me, Mrs. Windsor.” Joe rose, signaling an end to the interview. “You’ve been a huge help.”

  “No, I haven’t,” she snapped, her feistiness returning in a flash. “I don’t know a damned thing about what actually happened to him. And, apparently, neither do you.”

  Chapter Five

  “Oh, dear, God, what’s taking so long?” Bliss sat in a straight-backed garden chair, hugging herself tightly and rocking back and forth like a baby soothing itself.

  Jesse had long since figured out why there had been a champagne party that morning. The rapidly sobering Bliss Kerr was becoming a basketcase, and Jesse was seriously regretting the coffee she had pumped into her.

  “What’s happening?” Bliss held out a pleading hand. “Do you know what’s happening?”

  Jesse sat down next to her and accepted the hand that reached out so desperately, but she wasn’t about to offer any information.

  “Something’s happened to Harry,” Bliss said in what was becoming a refrain. “I just know something’s happened to Harry.”

  “I really don’t know anything,” Jesse said.

  “Yes, you do,” the younger woman said in a tone that sounded a lot like her great aunt’s. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. People don’t just show up at Aunt Viv’s door unannounced.”

  Fluffy and sweet as cotton candy earlier, Bliss seemed to be unraveling around the edges. Bits of blond hair stood out at odd angles. The cinnamon eyes were tinged pink from tears, as was the rosy tip of her formerly pristine nose.

  “Bliss, honey,” Jesse took the younger woman’s hands in her own and leaned forward. “Listen to me. Sheriff Tyler is still here. He’s not done with you yet, and you are falling apart way too soon. You have got to get a grip on yourself.”

  “I know.” Bliss closed her eyes, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know.” Then she opened her eyes again and looked into Jesse’s. “I’ve never even dated anyone else. Did you know that? Harry’s not a perfect man, but he’s the only one I’ve ever had. I’ve tried to imagine my life without him, and I can’t.”

  Jesse tried to imagine a life that limited, and she couldn’t. But she knew Bliss was sincere. Some people grew up strong and independent, and some people didn’t. Some people learned it along the way, and some people never had to.

  “Bliss,” Jesse said slowly, picking her words from among all the things that couldn’t be said. “I don’t think Harry has exactly been a rock for you. At least, not for a long time. I think you’ve been on your own a lot more than you want to think you have. Take it from someone who’s been there, being on your own can be pretty nice.”

  “You lost someone, didn’t you?” Bliss asked softly. “A long time ago.”

  Jesse smiled, while wishing secretly she could find a trap door out of this conversation. “I’ve lost quite a few people, one way or another, and gotten quite a few of them back again,” she acknowledged. “But I guess you’re probably talking about Michael.”

  Bliss nodded wordlessly, as if she didn’t know where to go once she had brought up the subject.

  “Do you ever talk to Vivian about him?” Jesse asked, hoping there was nothing
left to discuss.

  “She never talks about Michael,” Bliss answered almost reluctantly. “Not to me. Not to anyone. Does she ever talk to you about him?”

  “Sometimes, not a lot,” Jesse admitted. “Sometimes, we can’t avoid it.”

  Michael had been Vivian’s only child, and Jesse’s childhood friend, along with Fisher, another neighborhood boy. By the time they were in high school, Jesse and Michael had become sweethearts, and along with Fisher had formed an inseparable trio. They went everywhere together, did everything together, until that one night their senior year when Michael went for a spontaneous midnight drive alone in the souped-up hot rod he had just finished rebuilding.

  He never made it home. Just before dawn, the police had found the car crumpled headfirst into the trunk of a giant cottonwood tree, three-quarters of the way through a sharp curve in the road. Michael had died instantly of a broken neck, and nothing in Jesse’s life would ever be the same.

  “I’m so sorry.” Bliss gently squeezed Jesse’s arm. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  Pulling herself out of the memories from so long ago, Jesse shrugged off the sadness that always came with thoughts of Michael. “No, really, it’s okay. And you’re right. Losing someone is never easy, and it’s not something you ever really get over.”

  “But, still,” Bliss insisted, “this isn’t the time. I don’t know why I even thought about it.”

  “No, now is fine,” Jesse said again. “But we’re about to be interrupted any minute. So, I’ll make you a promise. Someday soon, we’ll sit down, split a bottle of wine, and I’ll tell you all about it. You never knew him, did you?”

  Bliss shook her head. “I was still a baby. I don’t remember him at all. I just remember how sad Aunt Viv was for so long.”

  “It’s hard to lose a child,” Jesse said softly. The sorrow that would probably never go away completely bubbled up inside her again. “Michael was one of those larger-than-life people. And his death…” Her head drooped. “That kind of thing is just so senseless.”

  Changing the subject back to one of immediate importance, she reached over and patted Bliss on the arm. “But you, young lady, you still have to face Sheriff Tyler again today. And for your own sake, you’re going to have to hold it together when you do.”

  “I feel better now,” Bliss assured her. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, you did.” Bliss bobbed her head and laughed like a little girl. “I don’t know why, but I feel happier. Aunt Vivian says you’re like magic. You just always make things better.”

  At a loss for words, and fairly certain Vivian would swallow her tongue before she would say that to Jesse herself, Jesse was caught off guard when Joe Tyler suddenly appeared in the sunroom doorway.

  He cleared his throat and Bliss’s laughter evaporated like a vampire in sunlight. “Uh, if I could, Mrs. Kerr, I’d like to speak with you again for a moment. Your aunt’s waiting for us in the library.”

  Casting a quick, desperate glance toward Jesse, Bliss attempted to rise and faltered. Jesse stood and guided the other woman up with her. She could feel Bliss shaking while her breathing became a series of shallow gasps.

  “Relax,” Jesse whispered. “You can’t fall apart before you even talk to him.”

  Bliss’s eyelids fluttered wildly. “Apparently, I can.” The words came out in a breathless wheeze.

  Jesse laughed, a wholly inappropriate reaction, and one that was noted by the watching sheriff in the doorway. The quirk of his brow was a dead giveaway. Just as inappropriately, Bliss giggled. Then she squeezed Jesse’s hand, squared her shoulders and marched off like someone headed bravely to the guillotine.

  Joe Tyler moved aside to let her pass, then focused his flinty gaze on Jesse before turning to follow the young widow inside. And she was a widow. Jesse was sure of that. There were too many things adding up to it to ignore the fact any longer.

  What she didn’t know was whether it was accidental, natural causes, or something more sinister. She had a feeling that the sheriff wasn’t sure either, and for that reason he was still tiptoeing lightly around the person who would be the main suspect in a case of foul play.

  Just the thought gave her a cold shiver. She didn’t really know Bliss very well, but she knew Vivian. Any threat to a loved one was as good as a battle cry to the older woman. And everyone near her would get swept into the battle, especially Jesse, whom Vivian liked to call her strong right arm. The only problem was that, at the moment, that right arm was not very well liked by Sheriff Tyler. In fact, that right arm had been warned to stay the hell out of his way if it knew what was good for it.

  And it was all so unfair. If he hadn’t been so unreasonable, trying to give Sophia a ticket for public intoxication, when she was just walking home from the dentist’s office because she was well aware she shouldn’t be driving. And, okay, maybe Sophia was right, and the sheriff hadn’t been planning to give her a ticket until Jesse showed up to rescue her mother and had gotten into an argument with him.

  But the whole upshot was that he was not a very forgiving man, and now he got all swelled up and irritated every time Jesse got anywhere near him. And if she tried to do anything to help or defend Bliss, even at Vivian’s direction, Jesse’s involvement was probably just going to make things worse.

  And the whole thing was so embarrassing she couldn’t bring herself to explain the problem. Sophia knew, of course, but it was her opinion that if Jesse wasn’t 50 going on 10, the whole thing would never have escalated to the point it did. Reluctantly, Jesse admitted to herself that maybe she should make one more try to patch things up with old, sullen Joe. If it would keep his feelings for her from spilling over into his dealings with Bliss or Vivian, it would be worth whatever humiliation she ended up bringing down on herself.

  Just then, a scream that could have been the death cry of any large, wounded animal came through the open window of the library, carrying on the air around the corner of the house and into the garden.

  ∙∙∙•••●●●•••∙∙∙

  Shocked, Joe stopped in mid-sentence and watched Bliss Kerr collapse in a heap on the library sofa. Wild sobs shook her after the scream that had rendered him speechless.

  “Could you have possibly been any more ham-fisted?” Vivian asked in disgust as she rose and went to her wailing, prostrate niece. Lifting Bliss’s head, Vivian scooted in under her and re-draped Bliss across her lap. “There, there, dear,” she crooned, patting a heaving shoulder.

  “There’s only so many ways you can say a person’s deceased,” Joe defended. “I’ve never gotten that reaction before.”

  “Oh, my, God,” Bliss cried between sobs. “What am I going to do?”

  At least that’s what it sounded like to him. The words were pretty garbled. “Will she be able to stay here with you for a day or so?” he asked Vivian in a soft voice that he hoped was covered by the loud sobbing. “The house and grounds are, uh…” He made a circle with his finger to indicate the yellow tape that had everything cordoned off at the Kerr house. “Until the cause of death is determined, we’ll have to keep everyone out.”

  Another loud wail interrupted him, indicating that his voice wasn’t soft enough to mask the meaning of his words. “I’ll need to talk to her again, when she’s feeling better,” he said, giving up the interview for now. “Do you happen to know if he was taking any medicines?”

  “None that I know of. He was only 36, and like I said, still fairly athletic.” Vivian kept her voice low and soothing as she continued to pat Bliss’s shuddering shoulder.

  “No blood pressure problems? Seems like his job might have been kind of high tension.”

  Vivian’s mouth puckered and then released while a furrow of distaste flickered briefly across her immaculately smooth brow. “It was my impression that Harold Kerr was more of the type to give blood pressure problems than to have them himself. He enjoyed his life, Sheriff. I never observed any regret in
him.”

  Appreciating her struggle not to speak ill of the dead, while still expressing her disdain, Joe smothered his grin and kept his question focused on business. “So, I take it that you don’t think he was suicidal?”

  “Not an ounce of him. He had everything he’d ever wanted. He was completely happy with himself.”

  “Oh, come on now.” Joe shook his head in general disagreement. “It’s hard to say that of anybody.”

  Bliss lifted her head, her beautiful face streaked with tears, and pulled a tissue from the box on the coffee table. “She’s right.” She dried her eyes with the first tissue, retrieved another and blew her nose. Still sniffling, she confirmed, “He lived his life the way he wanted, and when he chose to come home, he came home to a comfortable life.” She slowly unfolded into a sitting position next to her aunt. “He ate well, slept well and played hard. And he was successful. That pretty much takes care of everything he ever cared about.” Her breath caught at the end, but there were no more tears.

  “Anybody have a grudge against him?” Joe asked quietly, hoping to get a tough question out there before everything went to hell again.

  Vivian made a huffing sound, batted her eyes and looked toward the fireplace to the side of her.

  Bliss glanced at her briefly, then stared at her own hands balled in her lap. “He’s had two business partners that he’s left in the dust over the years. I’m sure some of the women he’s seen had husbands. He wasn’t above cheating to get what he wanted, and he didn’t waste time apologizing or making amends.” Her words were soft but matter of fact.

  “I think what Bliss is trying to say,” Vivian chimed in, “is that we said he was happy. We didn’t say anyone else was happy. I will say, that in his own way, he was probably more faithful to Bliss than he ever was to anyone else.”