Mystery Bundle (Saints Preserve Us, Pray For Us Sinners, Murder Most Trivial)
Page 17
He shifted into the right lane as he passed an exit sign bearing advertisements for fast-food restaurants. “Wanna stop at the Waffle Hut for a burger?” he asked. “They’re open late.”
Ronnie sat tensely in her seat with her arms folded, lost in thought. The events of the last forty minutes continued to astonish her. “How in the hell can an entire police force lose a tour bus?” she wanted to know. Her torso slammed backward as Lew accelerated into traffic. “How far could that thing have gotten exactly? Buses don’t seem to go very fast when I’m driving behind them.”
“Maybe Ted’s staying the night, and it’s parked somewhere. Maybe the driver took a wrong turn. It’s easy to get lost in a strange city at night if you don’t know where you’re going,” Lew suggested. “I’m sure they’ll catch up with the bus soon, if they haven’t already, and get Lorena home in one piece.”
Minus the finger, Ronnie thought. So technically Lorena was now in two pieces. She understood, learning much about the history of post-mortem saints, that people were not adverse to helping themselves to such first-class relics, be they fingernail clippings, locks of hair, or blood. Ronnie did not doubt that the Jacksonville police would treat the body with the utmost dignity, but she knew the family and the parish would not feel better until they saw for themselves.
“You didn’t have to take me home just now,” Ronnie said. “I know you need to be back there grilling the Dennis brothers.”
Lew pulled off the Ash Lake exit and stopped at the still red light. “I will soon enough. You weren’t there when I talked to them and they denied ever having Lorena, or making that phone call to you. Murphy cited them for something, so they’re in custody, by the way, and he’s going to drive them down here himself later tonight.”
Ronnie nodded. One hour in the stormy silence in the back of a police car might be enough to loosen some lips. “What’s the charge?”
“Whatever Murphy made up that those boys fell for, I guess.” Lew flashed a mischievous grin. “You didn’t answer me about dinner. How about we get a burger?”
“Great,” Ronnie sighed, “let’s hope the lawyer they get is just as dumb as they are.” She felt the car curve to the left and she protested. “No, turn right, let’s go to the Wild Rooster. I like their burgers better. They should still be open.”
Lew complied and within minutes the cruiser was rolling into the bar’s gravel lot in search for a space. Ronnie immediately recognized Jeanette’s car through the vanity plate: NVILBND.
“She’s a Neville Brothers Band fan?” Lew frowned.
“‘Nashville Bound’ is my guess. She wants to be the next Dolly Parton, and she’s about a cup size away.”
“Acceptable,” Lew said with a smile. “We could use more Dolly Partons.”
Jeanette gladly ushered the two to one of her tables, and Ronnie surmised the girl must have been happy to have honest-to-God paying customers with jobs. “I’ll be right back with your sweet teas in just a sec,” squealed the waitress as she bounced back to the bar, with Lew and several other patrons following every curve rippling underneath the girl’s skin-tight shorts. No way could that girl be a Jehovah’s Witness and wear that uniform to work, Ronnie decided.
“You know they’d probably save money on paper if they just printed the menus on the waitresses’ behinds,” Ronnie announced aloud, “seeing as how that’s all the men look at when they’re here.”
Lew craned back to her and smiled. “But surely there’s a double standard,” he challenged. “If Russell Crowe walked through that door stripped to the waist, how many men do you suppose it would take to pry you off of him?”
“You’d have to pry me off first.” This came from Jeanette, who set down the drinks then coyly moved the tray over her bottom. “So, we decided yet?”
Lew and Ronnie both ordered hamburgers with French fries, and Jeanette informed them that the order would take no more than five minutes, as grill orders were slow in coming tonight. “Oh, and if you have a sandwich punch card, let me know and I’ll take care of that for you.”
“Thanks. I have one buried in my purse somewhere. Give me a minute.” Ronnie unzipped a side pocket as Jeanette left to place their order. “I’ve got so many of these damn things,” she added to Lew, “I think I get a new one every time I come. Maybe she can consolidate them for me.”
Lew slouched on his elbows over the table and looked up at Ronnie with heavy-lidded eyes. Ronnie could tell he was not looking forward to interrogating the Dennis brothers after this. “I bet if she did, we could get one burger for free.”
“Yeah...”
Lew raised his head slightly and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” Ronnie looked up and quickly zipped the pocket. Jeanette returned once again with ketchup and mustard bottles. “Uh, I seem to have misplaced my Wild Rooster cards. They’re probably at home in my coupon drawer.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Jeanette said breezily. “I’ll get you a new one.”
Great, thought Ronnie, I’ve been meaning to wallpaper my room. “That’s fine,” she told the waitress and rose toward the ladies’ room. “Back in a sec.”
She returned to the table to find her burger and Lew’s packed in Styrofoam to-go boxes. Lew had just handed Jeanette a credit card to pay the bill.
“Are they here already?” Ronnie pictured Landon and Lorne Dennis languishing in Ash Lake’s only jail cell, with a furtive Dwayne Anderson studying them with suspicion.
“No, this is something else,” Lew said. He waited for Jeanette to fade out of earshot before explaining to Ronnie that her sister had just called. “She called the station and Dwayne patched her through to my cell. Was yours not turned on?”
Ronnie said it was not, a force of habit when attending plays and concerts. Odd, though, she would afford that courtesy to patrons at a Ted Nugent show. She placed a hand over her now rapidly beating heart.
“What is it? Did something happen to Nana? Is she okay?” The panic in her voice rose to a crescendo that overpowered the Bob Seger song on the jukebox.
Lew scribbled his signature on the credit slip Jeanette brought to the table. “I don’t think it’s anything like that. Gina didn’t sound alarmed, and I heard Miss Julie in the background. Your sister did say we should go over to Miss Julie’s right away, though.”
“Now?” It was nearly one o’clock, what could not wait until morning? “You’re sure my grandmother didn’t have a heart attack? People can talk while they’re dying, you know.”
Lew handed Jeanette a few crumpled bills for her tip without bothering to count them. “I’d think if your grandmother was dying, Gina’d have taken her to the hospital,” he said dryly. “I’m guessing she thought she heard a prowler and wants me to come over and check around the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, that makes more sense,” Ronnie said. “Anybody who’s been left a finger on her front porch reserves the right to be a bit jumpy. Doesn’t explain what Gina’s doing over there so late, though.” She apologized to Jeanette for the rushed exit as she dug back into her purse to turn on her phone.
“No problem. Hope your grandmother’s okay. Oops, here, I’ll get that.” Jeanette stooped down to collect the credit card wallet that fell to the ground from Ronnie’s purse. She held it face up to a picture stuck in one of the clear plastic sleeves and froze.
“Uh, Jeanette?” Ronnie cajoled. “I kinda need that—”
Jeanette’s grip on the wallet was firm. “That’s him.”
“Who is him?” Ronnie spotted the photo of Nana and Uncle Arthur, which served as the official portrait in the parish directory.
“That’s the guy I saw,” Jeanette insisted. “That’s the guy who was talking to Paul Dix the night he was killed.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ronnie said nothing on the drive to Nana’s house, and she was not surprised to see that Lew was not very talkative either. She did not have to ask about his sudden change in demeanor. She knew that look on his face: the fu
rrowed eyebrows and set jaw, the pointed tongue rubbing the insides of his cheeks. The cogs were working in his brain, breaking down Jeanette Holley’s observations, the events at the concert and the testimony of that panicked Dennis kid. Ronnie had seen the same look on Jim’s face many times, usually just before he left to apprehend somebody he liked for a crime.
Lew was already at the front door and being ushered inside by Gina when the younger, dark-haired woman leaned forward and squinted into the dark for a sign of her sister. “Ronnie!” she hissed. “Will you stop putzing around and get over here?”
“In a minute.” Ronnie locked her purse in the cruiser and loped up the stone path. She found her grandmother and uncle perched on the floral print Queen Anne sofa in the seldom-used front living room. Lew paced the stretch of plastic-covered carpet before them, a darkened foreboding figure in a backdrop of ceramic clown figures the old woman collected and displayed throughout the room.
Ronnie moved toward an unused chair but thought better of sitting, a reaction fostered by years of being warned against touching any of Nana’s good furniture. “What’s going on? Why the call?” she asked, noting in particular the look of warning on the old woman’s face.
“Yes, somebody fill us in, please. What couldn’t wait until morning that you had to interrupt my night off?” Lew was less accommodating, the irritation in his voice clear and aimed directly at Arthur’s downcast face. “Nothing appears to be disturbed, so it couldn’t be a robbery attempt.”
“Arthur,” he added, hovering over the duo on the sofa, “you have something to say?”
Ronnie felt her body go limp against her sister as the two leaned into the doorjamb. “Lew, you can’t possibly think my uncle—”
Arthur held up a hand, silencing Ronnie. “It’s okay, Veronica,” he assured her softly. “I’m a grown man. I can speak for myself.” He rose and met Lew’s gaze. “I suppose you’ll want me to come to the station with you for questioning.”
Ronnie could see how the statement upset Nana, and quickly she assured Arthur he could talk now. “There’s no sense in moving over there so late at night,” she added, ignoring the look of irritation on Lew’s face.
“Whatever. Look.” Arthur slumped back down on the sofa. “I suppose the only way to get this out is to come out and say it. It’s me.” Arthur intertwined his fingers and pressed his palms together, looking to Ronnie as if he wanted to shove the engorged fist into his skull. “I’m responsible for Mr. Dix’s death.”
Nana let out a soft gasp and flattened a hand against her heart. Gina rushed over to comfort her while Ronnie remained frozen to the spot, unable to believe the words said. Lew, it appeared, was also having trouble.
“Arthur, are you confessing to the murder of Paul Dix?”
“What? No! I mean, I didn’t kill him myself.” Arthur’s knee bounced nervously, jostling the sofa so that Nana had to grasp the armrest to remain still. Or was she trying to control herself, Ronnie thought, her frail body racked with silent sobs?
“What I mean to say is that if not for me Paul Dix would still be alive,” Arthur said, close to tears himself. “I’m the one who hired those two hoodlums to rob Lorena’s grave.”
“What!” Ronnie cried. “You’ve got to be joking, Uncle Arthur! What would possess you to do such a thing?” Fresh tears fell from her grandmother’s eyes, and Gina offered the old woman her shoulder for comfort.
“This was your idea for publicity?” Ronnie glared at her uncle. “Do you have any idea what’s happened to that body since it was stolen? It’s on a freaking rock star’s tour bus headed for God-knows-where.”
“I know, I know. It was a sick thing to do, and I’m sorry,” Arthur said, “but you have to understand how desperate I was.” He looked up at Ronnie and Lew as if searching for a hint of compassion. “You don’t know how much trouble I’m in right now.”
Lew nodded sagely. “Oh, I do. You can be sure of that.”
“I’m talking about money, Lew. I never would have pulled such a stunt if I didn’t need the money.”
“You have money,” Ronnie countered angrily. “You have what’s in Nana’s trust and you have a job that makes more than everybody in this room combined. I don’t know if you thought the Algers had buried some coffee cans full of cash in with Lorena—”
“Veronica, I’m broke,” Arthur cried, the dam finally bursting. “I’ve blown my savings on some bad day trading investments. All what’s left is the house and Mother’s retirement home fund, which I was smart enough to leave alone. Of course, I don’t know how I’m going to pay next year’s taxes, much less for a lawyer. I barely got this year’s paid.”
Lew stiffened. “Day trading?” The term was foreign to him but Ronnie understood all too well. She had read many articles over the past few months about people becoming addicted to Internet investing, only to come away broke and desperate. Her uncle, whom she always thought had business sense, was now another statistic.
“Haven’t you been telling Nana about working late hours?” Gina asked. “Were you holed up in your office making these bad trades or were you really working overtime to make the money back?”
Arthur shook his head. “Neither. Business hasn’t been too good, either, but I doubt you’re aware of it. I’ve had to take a second job,” he cringed, “as a telemarketer.”
Ronnie winced at the image of her middle-aged uncle holed up in a cubicle with a headset strapped to his graying head, trying to keep callers interested in his pitch for long-distance service. She stifled a giggle and turned her face away so as not to upset her grandmother with her ill-timed merriment.
Lew, naturally, remained less amused. “Okay,” he began, “so stealing Lorena was purely for ransom.”
“Of course. I had no intention of malice toward the body, or Paul Dix. You have to believe me.” This was directed more toward Nana. “I knew the committee had saved up a good deal of money for the cause in anticipation of large expenses.” His voice numbed and fell quiet. “I figured Father Joel wouldn’t hesitate to cut a check for Lorena’s safe return.”
“You figured right,” Nana cried, her voice cracking between tears. “He was more than willing to give up the money, but I wouldn’t let him. It took us years to raise that money, you know that! We couldn’t impose on the community to give an equal amount, what with the way some people around here are barely getting by. Oh, Arthur!” She snatched a paper tissue proffered by Gina and dabbed her eyes. “How could you be so thoughtless? Why didn’t you just tell me about the money problems? I’m not a child!”
“I know, Mother,” Arthur groaned. “I keep telling you I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you.” He paused a moment as Nana’s cries increased in volume. Ronnie rolled her eyes. Like stealing Lorena’s body would not be upsetting, she thought.
“I had every intention of getting the money back to the committee, Mother.” Arthur took Nana’s hand. “I promise.”
“How, Arthur?” Ronnie smirked. “More day trading?”
“Peace!” Lew held up his hands and motioned everybody to calm down. “Arthur, I don’t know if you thought this whole plan through, but I wouldn’t say you hired the finest hoods Duval County has to offer. We believe Lorena is unharmed, the finger notwithstanding, but we really won’t know anything until that tour bus is found.”
“Oh, dear.” Nana made the Sign of the Cross.
“With the Dennis brothers willing and able to sing, it doesn’t look good for you if they can make a positive ID on you or your voice,” Lew continued. “Right now you’re looking at theft, extortion and accessory to murder.”
“Oh, Lew! You aren’t going to arrest my son now, are you?” Nana cried. “Yes, what he did was foolish, but if the crime was against the family we won’t press charges. Shouldn’t those boys be arrested for murder instead?”
“Miss Julie.” Lew tried to placate the old woman. “I don’t want to see Arthur in jail any more than you do, but he did confess to this crime and somebody died as a
result of his actions. Even though he didn’t commit the murder outright, he does bear some responsibility. Had he not hired those boys to collect Lorena, they wouldn’t have gone into that cemetery. Mr. Dix might still be alive.”
Ronnie, no longer worried about the furniture, finally took a chair. “Jeanette Holley said she saw you talking with Paul Dix the night of the murder, Uncle Arthur. Was he in on the plan to exhume Lorena? Maybe he decided he wanted a larger cut of the money to help his wife, and the boys killed him to keep him quiet?”
“No, Paul had no clue. He wasn’t even supposed to be there that night. He and I got to know each other through the telemarketing company where I work.” Arthur’s fingers relaxed and he was now raking them through his hair. “His wife didn’t know, but Paul was working there part-time to ease some of their medical bills. He’d make up excuses to her, like extra hours at the cemetery or extra lodge meetings.