Mystery Bundle (Saints Preserve Us, Pray For Us Sinners, Murder Most Trivial)

by Leigh Ellwood

  Dan resumed eating. “Well, somebody at the police station must have recognized Bailey’s name from the fingerprint reports, because the purse got shunted to Detective Simons just as he was leaving to go home, and he brought it straight here.” Exhausted of hearing Ringo’s whining, Dan relented and tossed the beagle half a dry pancake.

  “Dan,” Willie scolded, “that dog needs to be eating his own food. He’s going to wind up with a weight problem, you watch.”

  “Why would he give you the purse?” Jason mused aloud. “Isn’t that evidence?”

  “It would be if Bailey were murdered, which she wasn’t, according to the police and to me,” Dan frowned. “Her death was ruled an accident, and I suppose the hospital will look into that for disciplinary and malpractice purposes. Meanwhile, Simons said they didn’t need the purse, and since they were unable to contact Bailey’s next of kin he pawned the thing off on me. Let me do it. They have better things to do, I guess.”

  “Like catching the murderer,” Willie said.

  Jason leaned back in his seat, tilting the front legs of his chair upward. “You don’t think that her death was an accident, Dad,” he wheedled. “You say you do, but I don’t believe it.”

  “No,” Dan swallowed a bite of pancake. “I do believe it. Bailey’s dying was tragic and untimely, given her youth and the circumstances that led to it, but I can’t see how there could have been any malice. She was given a drug she couldn’t handle. It happens. It’s sad, but it’s not a homicide.”

  He studied the look of disbelief on his son’s face. “What? You can’t possibly think Bailey’s death is related to the others.” Willie, too, looked surprised at this notion.

  “The winning female finalist lives in California,” Jason pointed out. “Did you know that? She’s long gone now, but right here in Norfolk we have a perfect substitute.”

  “Jason!” Willie chided. “How could the killer have known where Bailey was, much less get access to her with all those doctors and nurses around?”

  “How about this.” Jason leaned forward, and the chair fell back with a bang that startled everyone. “He kills first at the Waterside, and since he can’t get to Doris Lieber he skulks around the area looking for a replacement.”

  Too excited with his theory, Jason began pacing the short length of the kitchen. Willie turned her chair away from the table to follow his every movement.

  “He sees Bailey and lurks nearby until an opportune moment comes when he can get her alone,” he continued.

  “He’d be waiting a long time. Waterside gets busy on Friday night,” Dan mumbled.

  “Let me finish, Dad!” Jason’s enthusiasm was far from diminished. “So, suppose he sees Bailey pull her fake attack. He follows the ambulance, sneaks into a doctor’s lounge and gets a coat and some extra scrubs, gets some drugs from supply, waits ’til Bailey’s alone and BAM!”

  Jason clapped his hands together to drive the theory home. Ringo, still jittery from the chair incident, scampered away. Nobody noticed, as Dan and Willie were staring at Jason, flabbergasted.

  “Well?” Jason asked.

  Dan pointed his fork at his son. “Question,” he said. “Exactly how did our killer know which drug Bailey was allergic to if nothing was listed on her chart?”

  “Drugs are drugs, Dad. Maybe he figured if she had too much of anything, she’d die anyway.”

  Willie shook her head. “If he was stalking Bailey like you say he was, then surely he would have seen you with her and at the hospital.” She started cleaning away plates. “Were you ever alone yourself then?”

  “Uh, yeah.” That had not occurred to Jason. Why settle for a replacement with a bona fide finalist at hand? “When I went to get candy.”

  “Well, then,” Willie said, “the murderer could have disguised himself as a doctor and led you away under the pretense that he wanted to discuss Bailey’s condition. He could’ve pushed you into an empty room and stuck you with a needle full of poison.”

  “And you, being in shock, probably would have gone with him without a thought,” Dan added accusingly. “You know, your idea about going off to hide at Grandma’s is starting to sound good.”

  Jason opened his mouth to comment when Willie snapped her fingers. “Hey, did the detective mention anything about a trivia card left with Bailey’s body?”

  “Don’t know, didn’t ask.” Dan downed the remainder of his tepid coffee and grimaced at its bitter taste. “I doubt it, otherwise Bailey’s death would be part of the investigation.”

  “We could call him,” Jason suggested.

  “Don’t,” Dan said darkly. “The guy went home to bed. He looked like hell. Meanwhile,” he stood, then looked at his son as if he had forgotten something. “You doing anything today?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good, then you can help me.” To Willie, he apologized with a half embrace. “We can head up to York State Park tomorrow for a ride.”

  Willie momentarily rested her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder and patted his back. “Let me change my clothes, and we can take separate cars to Bailey’s.”

  “Really, Willie, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do.” Willie was serious. “As angry as I was last night with her, I didn’t wish her dead. I’m not looking for any redemption for this, either. I just want to help her maintain some dignity in death.”

  “Besides,” she added. “Bailey’s family might take the news better coming from a woman.”

  Jason affirmed this as well, and dashed out of the kitchen to get his shoes, all the while wondering if any of the doctors he passed in the emergency room halls was the elusive killer in disguise.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bailey Stone, they were to learn after several fruitless phone calls, not only was without family in the immediate vicinity but had not written a will. At least, Dan decided, Bailey had not written a will that could be found. What little information he managed to pry from the hospital administrative staff when he called that morning revealed that Bailey’s insurance company would be informed of her passing, only after Dan provided the information from the card in her wallet. The only other emergency contact, aside from him, was the man who owned the condo Bailey rented. Since they had her keys, Dan saw no need to inform the man until after they contacted someone in Bailey’s family. They could handle any legalities later.

  “I feel like a criminal doing this,” Willie admitted as Dan wrestled with the lock on Bailey’s door. The three of them huddled together on the second floor of a large complex in the Ocean View area of Norfolk. The sea air was a pungent, salty perfume and the sky alive with squealing gulls coasting in mid-air searching for food.

  Must be the one common primary trait of any animal, Jason thought, remembering the sad, starving look on Ringo as they left the house.

  Willie nervously darted her gaze from left to right. “What if somebody sees us,” she pondered aloud, “and thinks we’re trying to break in or something?”

  “We certainly seem to fit the profile of hardened criminals,” Jason cracked. Two teachers and a wannabe Catholic priest—people in low paying jobs looking for some baubles to hock.

  Dan opened the door to a blast of cool air. “We’ll just explain what happened,” he said simply. “That Bailey is dead and we were charged with settling her affairs. Until we contact some family, anyway. Let’s go.”

  Bailey Stone’s one bedroom, one bath abode instantly gave the impression that it was home to a bachelorette scraping by on a teacher’s salary. From the foyer the three were provided with a clear view of the tiny kitchenette to the left—white cabinets and appliances trimmed with white tile and mauve counter space—and the living room before them. White wicker furniture was positioned in the space to give prominence to a tiny television nestled in a matching wicker bookcase. Metal-framed watercolors decorated the mint-green walls and a large Van Gogh print rug covered what it could of the ugly beige carpet, lending the area a tropical look.

  “Sunflo
wers.” Willie recognized the painting depicted by the rug and gingerly stepped on it. She scanned the furniture—wicker papasan chair and wicker sofa with matching mint cushions, wicker coffee table with glass top, wicker bookcase filled with dog-eared paperback novels. “No desk,” she murmured, “but she probably has one in the bedroom.” Willie disappeared into the doorway at the right.

  “I’ll check here in the kitchen,” Jason stepped to one side. “Maybe she has numbers on the fridge or something.”

  This left Dan with the living room, so he shut the front door and went straight for the bookcase. He was eyeing the end tables for clues to Bailey’s relations—photos, a phone book, a strewn memo—when a loud cry from the bedroom startled him. Jason nearly ran into him as he two sped to Willie’s side.

  “Look at that!” Willie’s voice was full of awe and astonishment, and the Greeveys followed her gaze to the ceiling over Bailey’s bed, where dozens of photographs were pasted. Some peeled at the corners and threatened to flutter to the floral print bedspread.

  Jason whistled. “Dad, they’re all of you!” He turned around slightly for a better view. The photo collage was essentially built of one print, a snapshot Dan recognized as one taken of him on a date with Bailey. Short on other portraits, Dan guessed, Bailey had made many copies of the one she did have to create her collage.

  “Can you say obsessed?” Jason said flippantly.

  “That’s not the word I was thinking of,” murmured Willie. “Have you ever seen anything like this in your life, outside of a movie?”

  Jason and Willie looked at Dan, who was eerily silent, eyes affixed to the photo mural and brow creased with bewilderment. He shook his head; words he wanted to say could not come. He was that unsettled.

  “Man, Dad, what did you do to this chick?”

  “Nothing, I swear.” Dan’s voice was panicked and he flinched from his son’s touch. “We just dated, is all, for a few months last year. I never led her on; hell, I didn’t try for first base with her.” He scratched his head. “Maybe that’s what instigated all of this.”

  When Willie inched closer and nudged Dan with her shoulder, he did not protest. “I doubt that,” she said. “I’m like you, I think Bailey was a very disturbed woman. She was just able to conceal her instability better than others, to a point anyway. Last night was probably the boiling point for her. At any rate, I don’t think I can spend another minute in this room.”

  She hugged Dan closer to him. “I like looking at pictures of you, hon, but not in this context.”

  “That’s okay, why don’t we switch?” Dan suggested. “If we’re quick about it hopefully this won’t take more than an hour.”

  Everyone agreed and went about their tasks. Jason inspected kitchen utility drawers, finding only stacks of expired restaurant coupon books and what seemed like hundreds of UPC barcode labels cut from various foodstuffs. The eraser board stuck to the side of the refrigerator yielded useless information as well—only a scrawled reminder to buy bread and orange juice.

  In the living room, Willie leafed through Bailey’s high school yearbook and took note of the alma mater’s location, working on the theory that perhaps Bailey’s parents remained in the area. She held the thick, black and gray tome up for Jason to see over the kitchen counter bar. “The Kennedy Senior High Raider, Class of 1981,” Willie announced. “Dahlonega, Georgia, which is kind of weird considering I’m from Atlanta.”

  “Why is that weird?”

  Willie shrugged. “Well, for one Dahlonega’s only about a hour away from Atlanta. Small town, but the hiking’s terrific.” She found Bailey’s senior photograph—a heavy-lidded girl with too much blue eye shadow and wavy, Farrah Fawcett hair grinned back. “I’m just curious as to how she ended up here. Everyone I knew from that area and thereabouts wound up in Atlanta.”

  Jason rested his elbows on the counter. “How did you end up here?”

  Willie rolled her eyes. “My ex, the sailor man. When I met him he was at supply school in Athens. Then on to NAS Jax in Florida, then here.”

  “So maybe Bailey was married to military, too? I mean, we really don’t know anything about her past. I doubt Dad does, otherwise he would have said something.”

  “No,” Willie shook her head. “She’s listed as Stone here. Of course, she might have married, divorced, and went back to her maiden name, but that’s not important. Oh!” She slammed the book shut. “You know how many people named Stone must be in that area? What if her family lives in the city? We could be on the phone all day!”

  “Not quite.”

  Dan emerged from the bedroom waving a small, bulky day planner, wherein he discovered the phone numbers they needed. “The numbers I think we need, anyway,” he added. “There’s a listing for a lawyer, and a 404 area code number for somebody named Debbie. Maybe that’s her sister?”

  “Whoever she is, she lives in Atlanta,” Willie said. “Let’s give her a call. At the very least she’ll lead us to somebody.”

  Dan retreated back to the bedroom to use Bailey’s phone, rebuffing Willie’s offer to make the call. He felt partly responsible still for the circumstances that led to Bailey’s death, he repeated, and breaking the news to Bailey’s family would have to help closure for him. Well aware of his father’s giving nature, Jason knew that call to Georgia would not end before Dan offered his unlimited services, but he kept quiet. Willie looked quite miffed, and he saw no need to irritate her further.

  So the two sat in the living room straining to decipher Dan’s muttered half of the phone conversation through the partially-open door. After about a minute of ‘uh-huhs’ and ‘yesses’ from their end, Jason gave up being respectful of his father’s privacy and reached for the princess phone on the end table.

  “Don’t,” Willie ordered sharply in her best teacher’s voice, and Jason’s hand shrank back. “He’ll tell us in due time.”

  “Yeah.” Jason’s smile was sheepish. He looked around the room. “You know what’s really weird, is that there aren’t any pictures of Dad in this room.”

  “There aren’t any pictures of anybody,” Willie pointed out, “except for that one by the TV of the baby.” Her gaze fell on the coffee table before them; the corner of a large pink binder underneath a pile of magazines caught her eye. “What’s this?”

  She pushed aside several fashion magazine to reveal a wedding planner. The first page revealed that it belonged to bride-to-be Miss Bailey Ann Stone, also known as the future Mrs. Daniel Thomas Greevey.

  “Damn it!” Willie pounded the glass tabletop and stalked to the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors until she found a glass. Jason watched on silently, undecided about what to do or say. Willie was helping herself to a drink of water in a dead woman’s kitchen; it was not like Bailey could protest or do anything more about their presence, but he still felt uneasy. True, it was only a glass of water, but they did not come to make themselves at home.

  “Uh, you know,” he began uneasily, but a calmer Willie quieted him with a wave of the hand from the kitchen.

  “I know, I know. Part and parcel,” she said. “Just a knee-jerk reaction, I’m sorry. You thirsty?” She opened the refrigerator and instantly regretted the offer. Bailey clearly had not purchased the orange juice, or anything else for that matter.

  “No, thanks.”

  Willie drained her water and rejoined Jason in the living room. “I don’t know why I’m acting this way, acting jealous over a dead woman’s obsession with your father, especially now. I mean, I’ve been going out with Dan for the same amount of time Bailey did last year, you know?”

  “Actually, you and Dad have been together six months,” Jason said. “He and Bailey didn’t make it that long.”

  Willie nodded. “Maybe her perception of time was in dog years,” she murmured, “but to tell you the truth, sometimes it feels like I’ve been with your father longer, too.”

  “You’ve known him a while,” Jason observed.

  “True, I—” Whatever Willie had
planned to say next was stifled as Dan reappeared, his face pale.

  “Dan, what’s wrong?”

  Dan moved to the sofa and sank down next to Willie. “You wouldn’t believe the phone conversation I just had with Bailey’s sister,” he gasped, gesturing to the bedroom as if a crime had occurred there. Jason and Willie, meanwhile, watched anxiously for him to continue, both about to burst as Dan took his time continuing his story.

  “So I tell this woman, this Debbie Fielding, that her sister passed away last night. I’m expecting maybe some audible gasp or shock, but she’s silent for, like, a few seconds and then she says, ‘Oh, really?’“ Dan made a face. “The woman actually sounded disappointed! Then she had the gall to ask if Bailey OD’ed.”

  “Dude, Miss Stone was an addict?” Jason’s jaw dropped. He had not found any such evidence in his hunt, and Willie echoed a similar claim.