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

by Leigh Ellwood

  “I don’t know,” Dan answered, frustrated. “But to make a long story short, Bailey was the black sheep, she didn’t get along with anybody in her family. Her parents are dead, and Debbie said she and Bailey haven’t spoken in years. When I told her I doubted Bailey had much money, she said to just cremate her, no service, and send her the bill.” He reached into his shirt pocket for a slip of paper, on which was written Debbie’s address.

  “Did she say what to do with the ashes?” Jason felt suddenly squeamish.

  Dan shrugged. “She sounded like she didn’t want them.”

  “What about her stuff?” Willie asked. “Her lease? Her car? She’s not going to come up and settle all of this?”

  “I told you, the woman could care less. Listening to her complain a while ago, I began to realize that Bailey might have ended up the way she did regardless.” Dan stood. “Apparently, though, Bailey managed to pilfer some family heirlooms before she left Atlanta, so Mrs. Fielding claims, and she wants those things back. The rest can go to charity, she said.”

  He flipped over the paper to reveal a list of items. Willie volunteered for the treasure hunt, but Jason spoke up quickly before she could stand. “Wait a sec. What if Bailey wrote a will? If she did, and didn’t designate that her family get anything, then the sister has no claim to anything in this apartment, right?”

  “I searched all her papers, didn’t find anything,” Dan said. “Come to think of it, though, there is that other phone number in her address book. Hold that thought.”

  Dan jogged back into Bailey’s bedroom and dialed the phone. Seconds later more ‘uh-huhs’ and ‘I sees’ wafted from the room, and Dan returned, dejected. “No will there,” he announced. “The guy was a litigation attorney she was keeping on retainer. Seems she was planning to sue the school for wrongful dismissal.”

  “Wrongful dismiss—” Willie choked. “What! I’m sorry the woman’s dead, but she was a terrible teacher! She couldn’t control her students.”

  Jason seconded Willie’s claim, citing again how Bailey tried to give him the final exam answers from Mrs. Wallis’s class. “How could she expect to win? Who would have spoken up for her?”

  “The guy didn’t want to go into detail.” Dan scratched his chin. “In fact, he probably shouldn’t have told me that much. I couldn’t begin to think how she could have won a case like that, either. It surprises me that she was able to get a lawyer to take her case in the first place.” He looked at Willie. “Did you know about any of this?”

  Willie shook her head. “Now, Dan, you know I don’t listen to the gossip, either. But I’ll bet you Alise knows everything about it.”

  Jason, meanwhile, sat back in his chair, picking at the painted white wicker armrests, thinking back to the prom and, for some reason, Caitlin as she first entered the ballroom. Her radiant smile upon seeing the area transformed in a Titanic-themed party lit up her eyes with innocent joy, and seeing friends dressed formally and regally around her increased her excitement. He had nearly melted at first sight.

  It was when Mr. Brantley approached her, however, that Caitlin became uncomfortable. The teacher had placed his hands upon her shoulders and whispered in her ear, a devilish look in his eyes which leered downward into Caitlin’s cleavage.

  Jason shuddered; the skin on his arms prickled and he unconsciously rubbed them together. What had the man said to Caitlin? Furthermore, why had Mr. Brantley been watching Bailey’s tirade with a similar look, tinged with amusement?

  Had Brantley known all along what Bailey was going to do? Had he encouraged her, for that matter? Taunted her with exaggerations of his father’s relationship with Willie? It made sense; Brantley was vocal about his dislike for the woman as a professional and as a human being, even with the students. Perhaps, then, this so-called lawsuit was more than a case of wrongful dismissal, but one of...

  “Harassment,” he said, not realizing he had spoken until he saw his father and Willie, who were chatting amongst themselves, turn to stare at him.

  “What’s that, son?”

  “Huh?” The thoughts occupying Jason’s mind burst and he shook his head. “No, I was just thinking maybe Bailey thought she had been harassed, or maybe badmouthed at school, which led to her being fired.”

  Willie turned back to Dan sharply. “I certainly hope she wasn’t planning to name you personally in this suit.”

  “I doubt it. I gave the lawyer my name. I didn’t hear anything in his voice that would have suggested it. Besides,” Dan added jokingly, “if Bailey was going to sue me it would have been for breach of contract by not marrying her.”

  Jason scoffed at this. Disillusioned woman sues man for leaving her at the altar in a world she created, on the next Judge Judy.

  “Well.” Dan slapped his thighs. “I guess we have no recourse but to do what Bailey’s sister wishes. If it’s all the same to you two, I’d rather do it now and get it over with.”

  As Willie set about to complete the checklist of Stone family heirlooms, Dan returned to the phone to contact the condo’s owner and break the news of his tenant’s passing. Jason took stock of Bailey’s wardrobe, furniture and other belongings, ignoring the eerie Dan collage on the bedroom ceiling. That would definitely have to be removed before the owner appeared to reclaim his space.

  Jason was not aware of where Bailey attended church, or if she went at all. He recalled a memory of her at the house once, frowning at the gilded icon of the Virgin Mary that hung over the living room fireplace, and he guessed then that she was either not Catholic or a bitter, lapsed one. So sending everything to her home church was out, unless they discovered otherwise.

  Father Ben, he knew, would gladly take the clothing, shoes, and any unused makeup for a ministry Incarnation sponsored which aided area low-income women with the supplies needed for job interviews and daily life. Jason made a mental note to ask his father about it and then surveyed the bathroom. There he found the diamond earrings Debbie Fielding wanted and several half-empty bottles of soap, shampoo and body lotion.

  “Jason!” His father’s voice boomed from the bedroom.

  “In here, Dad.”

  Seconds later Dan’s head came poking inside the bathroom, surveying the space as if he were going to move and decide where his stuff would go. “What’d the owner say?” Jason asked.

  “Well, first he didn’t believe me. Thought Bailey had left town and was trying to stiff him on rent,” Dan said. “So I told him to call the hospital and gave him the number. A few minutes later he called back and asked me if I wanted to rent the place.”

  Jason smiled at his, though feeling a twinge of guilt for doing so. Life did go on without you, and no doubt the guy would have a new tenant soon.

  “I also gave him Bailey’s sister’s number,” Dan added. “He can haggle over rent payments and lease business with her. He’ll probably keep the security deposit anyway. Anyway,” Dan slapped the doorjamb, “Willie’s gone to get sandwiches at the Subway across the street. I told her to get you a foot-long meatball. That alright?”

  “Uh, sure, Dad,” Jason frowned. “But why eat here? What more do we have to do?”

  Dan smiled warmly and brought forth a large empty cardboard box taken from the closet. “Everything that everybody else doesn’t want to do,” he sighed.

  Jason stared at the box and then at his father. They had come to find a next of kin and now they were acting as proxies. Not the ideal way to spend a Saturday, he thought.

  “I guess we were Bailey’s only friends, huh, Dad?”

  Dan did not know whether or not to nod; he only studied his reflection in the large bathroom mirror. “I know, son. With friends like us...”

  * * * *

  They tried their best to keep the tiny dining area near the kitchen neat, and given that Dan and Jason fumbled with sloppy, over-sauced sandwiches, it was quite a challenge. Once finished, Dan called the funeral home that handled Liza’s service and arranged for Bailey’s body to be sent there.


  “There should be a small service anyway, we owe Bailey that,” he said. “Surely she has some friends who would want to say a proper goodbye.” He mentioned also Bailey’s affiliation with a nearby Presbyterian church, something neither Jason or Willie had known, and reached for the phone book to call the minister. Willie and Jason set to boxing up the living room.

  By mid-afternoon, Bailey’s minister agreed to preside over a Tuesday evening service, after which he would scatter her ashes in the small flower garden on his church’s property. The clothing and unused toiletries would go to Father Ben, who was delighted to receive them when called, despite the tragic circumstances. He offered to say tomorrow’s morning Mass for the repose of Bailey’s soul. The furniture would be picked up by a ministry recommended by Bailey’s pastor, one which ran a thrift shop to benefit the blind and deaf. Books, dinnerware, and other knickknacks were piled in the middle of the living room, awaiting judgment on a final destination.

  Willie placed a shoebox full of costume jewelry in the undecided pile. “I could keep this with me,” she suggested. “That way if any of Bailey’s friends want a memento, they can take something after the service. Alise might want something.”

  Dan pictured Alise arriving with an empty sack like a reverse Santa Claus, though to be fair he dismissed the thought. Alise and Bailey were close, and he knew the latter’s death would affect her.

  “Why not? Jason?” Dan leaned for a view past Willie of his son. “What are you doing with that box?”

  Jason looked up from packing unmarked videocassettes into a small box. “Oh,” Jason said. “I thought maybe Bailey had some personal stuff on these. Home movies, maybe a recorded will nobody knows about.”

  “Or a bunch of taped soap operas,” Willie murmured, “but you’re right. We should check them first, there might be something her sister will want, like a family reunion tape.”

  Dan snapped open a large garbage bag and started dumping perishables from the refrigerator. Canned food and unopened packages were earmarked for a local food bank. “OK, take that with us then.”

  “Sure, Dad. Let me check the bedroom one more time.” Jason rose from the living room floor and carried the box with him, surprised slightly by the weight of it contents. In the cabinet of the small TV stand by Bailey’s dresser he found four more tapes, each marked with block lettering on green labels.

  Jason’s heart pounded in his ears. He saw no titles on the labels, only the word Bascock.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jason fidgeted in the passenger seat, bouncing the cardboard box of videocassettes on his knees and quietly contemplating a way to smuggle the Bascock tapes into his room without his father’s knowledge. The contents had to provide some clues to Bailey’s death, perhaps even Bart’s, and Jason figured a correlation existed between them and the cryptic note in Bailey’s purse. Perhaps Bailey knew she was a target, Jason thought, and she kept Bascock’s security tape secreted in her room as evidence for them to find.

  He saw no point in mentioning this to his father. Dan was convinced Bailey’s passing was an accident free of conspiracy. Jason knew he would have to convince him first.

  Both he and his father waved to Willie as her Corolla passed alongside them before turning left toward Granby Street. She rolled down her passenger side window and hollered that she would be back at the house after changing clothes and checking her mail.

  Dan waited for an oncoming truck to pass before exiting the parking lot. He stole a quick glance at his son and his face fell. “You okay?”

  “Hm?” Jason diverted his gaze on the stream of people milling around the strip mall across the street and said nothing more until a hand grasped his shoulder.

  “I’m fine, Dad,” he added. “I just...well, I don’t like going through dead people’s stuff. It reminds me of Mom...” his voice faded and he turned back to the scenery passing his window.

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it anymore, son.” A lull in traffic allowed Dan to ease back onto the road. “We’ve done everything we can for Bailey now. Willie will send Debbie Fielding what she wanted and deliver the dress to the funeral home, and the owner of the condo said he’d tell the building super to let in the charity collectors, though I’ll bet Father Ben will want me to help him with the clothes.”

  Jason nodded absently, amazed with how much was left over when a person died and how many decisions had to be made. Bailey Stone was not yet dead twenty-four hours, and already her possessions were ready to be dispersed all over Norfolk, not to mention what parts of her body were salvageable, considering that the hospital found on her driver’s license that Bailey signed up to be an organ donor. What was left of that would help flowers grow. All of this was decided before her obituary made the papers!

  Then there was the matter of notifying people. The bank, post office, the insurance people, and the magazines to which Bailey subscribed would have to receive word from the sister, Dan announced. That was her responsibility, regardless of how badly the two got along. “Willie and I can take care of calling Bailey’s friends and acquaintances,” Dan added. “Since we’re talking about mainly faculty at school that shouldn’t take long.”

  Ringo greeted the two with a wild enthusiasm that betrayed his worry; every time they came home it was as if they had deserted the dog for days on end. “We’re going to have to leave on the TV for you, little buddy,” Jason cooed as he fed the dog a treat.

  “Good idea,” Dan smirked. “We’ll let him watch nothing but EWTN, and maybe he’ll become as learned a Bible scholar as you.”

  “And God said, ‘Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: livestock, creatures that move along the ground, and wild animals, each according to its kind.’ And it was so,” quoted Jason. “Genesis, first chapter, verse twenty-four.”

  Dan nodded appreciatively. “Pretty good, pretty good. Now teach the dog and he can go to seminary with you.” He sifted through the box of videotapes and looked up at him. “You’ve given more thought to that? Looking at orders and where you want to go?”

  “I’ve checked the Internet. Nearly all of the seminaries are online now, so I suppose I can start there.” Jason watched his father anxiously, putting his prayerful study to work. Dear God, don’t let him take those tapes. He’ll just throw them away.

  Dan, to Jason’s relief, suddenly pushed the box aside and turned to the refrigerator, as if bidden by a cold drink.

  “Anyway,” Jason continued. “I’d like to stay close to home, maybe take some day trips out to some of the schools in state and around DC while I’m at William and Mary. Of course, Father Ben thinks I should go to Holy Angels.”

  “Father Ben thinks everybody should go to Holy Angels. He used to give me brochures to read. ‘Contemplating Orders After Widowhood,’ or something like that.”

  “Dad! Don’t tell me you thought about being a priest.”

  Dan peeled away a root beer can from its plastic ring holder and popped the top. “Not once, actually,” he said. “I wasn’t born Catholic, but I never even entertained thoughts of the ministry. When your mother died, well, I had you to think about, and while I was grateful to have God in my life, I guess I’ve always believed I could serve him another way.”

  “And now?”

  “And now,” Dan echoed more assertively, raising his root beer in a mock toast, “the second I ship you off to Williamsburg I’m going to partay!”

  Jason laughed out loud, taken aback by his father’s candor. “Just don’t go to Busch Gardens without me, alright?”

  “Don’t worry. Now then,” Dan tugged the edge of the box, pulling it toward him, “Willie will be by soon. I really didn’t want to have to plow through a bunch of old videotapes. There’s probably nothing here but a motley collection of sitcoms. But, we’ve got nothing else to do tonight. What are your plans?”

  “Well, Dad.” Jason lurched forward and casually took one tape, pretending to study the adhesive residue. “I’m not busy tonight, so I could go
through all this stuff. You and Willie could go to a movie...”

  He stopped. He had done it again, called Miss Pratt by her first name. It was getting easier to do, and Dan sensed as much as he smiled at his son.

  Dan took the box, and started upstairs, leaving Jason with the one tape. “Oh, we’ll be fine,” he assured Jason. “You’re probably hot to get out of here, to go be with your friends.”

  Jason’s eyes widened as he watched his father fade upstairs. He thought of the serial killer and the possibility that he might be tailing them, or staking out the house awaiting a moment of vulnerability. That Bailey was involved in this Bascock enterprise was a given, so surely her death was related to Bart Scarsdale’s.

  He thought briefly too of Gordon Petersen, left for the police to discover with a trivia souvenir. How was he connected to Bascock? The answer had to be on either the tape in his hand or on one in the box, one he had to get lest his father grow bored with fast-forwarding through soap episode before pitching the entire box in the trash.