A Dickens of a Crime

by Phyllis H Moore

  TEN

  “That was a little more excitement than I bargained for.” Jean fanned herself with a tour of homes brochure left in Meg’s cup-holder. Meg, I’m worried you might be in danger.”

  “I’m going to call Detective Crawford and report this. She’ll have someone look into it. It could have been a teenager pulling a prank, but even if it was, it was a dangerous prank and needs to be reported.”

  The color of the car was a suspicious coincidence. There was no way Tom would have ever rammed another car. Would he?

  Meg drove to Darrow House and pulled into the alley. There were no cars visible. She telephoned Detective Crawford and left a message on her voice mail about Tom being missing and the strange car ramming hers near Rusk Farm.

  “Okay, that’s all I can do about that. The car I saw earlier here is gone. Let’s stop by the Hillards’ and find out about the arrangements for Lena’s funeral.”

  When they arrived, several cars were parked in front, many of them familiar. The members of Hilltop drove expensive, often customized vehicles with vanity plates. “We won’t stay long. It’ll take every bit of personality I can muster to get through this,” Meg said, grabbing her purse and opening the door.

  Jean sniggered. “We’ve had quite a day, a genteel brunch to destruction derby.”

  Meg thought Jean was being casual about the incident, but she didn’t react to the comment. They paused to check out the bumper of Meg’s car, detecting little damage.

  “Good thing I decided to wait until after the first of the year to look for another car.” Meg pointed to her not-so-shiny rear bumper. “I would really be pissed if that was brand new.” She scanned the other cars parked in front of Brian’s, no red sports cars.

  Brian’s twin daughters were standing together away from their elders. Meg didn’t hesitate to approach them. Jean went straight to Brian. The twins, about thirty years old, were Giselle Hillard Bengham and Geneva Hillard Wright, according to the obituary in the Sunday paper. They were identical except Giselle had platinum blonde hair, cropped short with bangs swooping across one eye, whereas Geneva’s auburn hair was pulled up in a messy bun.

  The girls had attended school with Dorie, but they hadn’t been close friends. One of them, Meg couldn’t remember which, had been sent to boarding school for a year. There had been a problem with inappropriate relations with a female coach. She had resigned in exchange for the Hillards waiving charges. Jean would be familiar with the history. Meg would ask her about the details later.

  After Meg introduced herself, Giselle walked away, rolling her eyes at Geneva. Giselle’s rude behavior was a distraction but it didn’t deter Meg. Geneva acknowledged she remembered Dorie from her Spanish classes.

  “I’m so sorry about Lena,” Meg said. “I know it’s upsetting for your father.”

  “We tried to warn him not to get involved with her,” Geneva said. “Giselle and I never wanted him to marry so soon after our mother’s death, and to a woman so much younger. Everyone in this room knows that. I thought it would be divorce and financial ruin, not Lena’s murder.”

  Startled by Geneva’s candor, Meg said, “I see. Would you have any hunches about how this happened or who would do it?”

  “No. I didn’t try very hard to get to know Lena. After they married Giselle and I quit paying attention to anything he did. We just weren’t interested. I’m sure it’s tragic for some people, but I think he’s brought it all on himself.”

  Is she being stoic and guarded, or is this young woman really this uncaring?

  “That’s unfortunate. I wanted to find out about the arrangements. Has anything been settled?” Meg managed to say.

  “The service is tomorrow morning. Dad wanted to wait, but Giselle and I need to get back to Dallas. I’m just ready to get out of here and get on with my own life.”

  Meg was left speechless by Geneva’s comments. Uncertain how to respond to the young woman’s brusqueness, Meg excused herself to find Brian. However that wasn’t her intention. She headed down the hall to the bathroom instead.

  The medicine cabinet, built into the wall just to the right of the door, had a mirrored front which Meg opened slowly to avoid detection. She studied the bottles, twisting them on the glass shelves so she could read them. There were several with Brian’s name on them, including a prescription for Vicodin that was three years old, one for Viagra with a recent date, and various others.

  Meg found an old receipt in her purse, smoothing it flat against the bathroom door, she wrote down the names of the prescriptions, as well as doctors’ names. She wrote as small as she could to get the information on the narrow strip of paper. The medications were from different doctors, none of whom she recognized, but filled by the same pharmacy. She recognized the familiar logo as local.

  Flinching at an impatient knock against her hand from the other side of the door, Meg almost cried out. She hurried to complete the list before cramming the receipt down in her purse. She gave the toilet a cursory flush, then ran the water in the sink as she glanced at herself in the mirror. I’ve sunk to a new level of low. She feigned a smile and smoothed her hair, swallowing before jerking the door open, startling a woman with jet black hair.

  “It’s all yours,” Meg said with a forced grin.

  Heading down the hall, Meg scanned the living area for Jean. She spotted her, arm in arm with Giselle, standing near a large picture window. She smiled at Giselle as she approached the two. Jean introduced Meg, explaining Giselle was one of her favorite students in piano class. “She always came prepared.”

  Meg couldn’t help but smile. That’s so like Jean to be able to endear herself to the most stubborn and reluctant. One of the many things I appreciate about her.

  Giselle tilted her head toward Meg, her demeanor totally changed from earlier. With Jean, Giselle was softer, more likeable, and less abrupt than her sister.

  Meg was distracted. It was irrational, but she was imagining the Target receipt in her purse being exposed. Meg’s brow began to sweat as she could picture the receipt falling to the floor and everyone gathering to question her about why she’d written down Brian’s medications.

  “The funeral’s in the morning at eleven,” Jean said as they walked toward Meg’s car. “They’ll have lunch after at the church cafeteria. Can you believe Hilltop has a cafeteria in their fellowship hall? Giselle can’t wait for this funeral to be over. She’s bitten her nails to the quick.”

  Meg turned to Jean after she started the car. “You would notice her fingernails. I suppose you looked at a lot of fingers during your piano teaching days.”

  “Yes. My recollection is Giselle’s were a pleasing shape, very feminine. She has small hands, but long fingers, one of the few girls at that age who could reach better than an octave on the keyboard. Her hands are still lovely, but those fingernails.” Jean said, tossing her purse on the floorboard.

  “Those girls don’t seem to be upset about Lena’s passing. I don’t know about Giselle, but Geneva was almost giddy,” Meg said. “Doesn’t sound like they’ll be hanging around to help Brian adjust to single life.”

  “No,” Jean concurred. “It’s really sad. I enjoyed Giselle, but she was a strange little thing. You know she was sent off to boarding school just after Mildred committed suicide.”

  Meg winced. She put the car back in Park and turned toward Jean. “I didn’t know it was suicide. I don’t know that much about Brian’s life back then. I knew about one of the girls going off to school, but I thought it was an indiscretion with a teacher. I also didn’t know it was just after their mother’s death.”

  Jean nodded. “Mildred was found in the bathtub after taking an overdose of sleeping pills. I think the girls were juniors in high school. Right after that, the scandal with the teacher erupted, and Brian sent Giselle away.” Jean pulled her sunglasses from her purse. “Lena moved in with Brian after he bought that house, but they didn’t marry for another two years. The girls were off at college, but they still let
it be known they didn’t approve. It was all the talk around town. They refused to stay at the house when they came to town.”

  Meg sighed, turning back to the steering wheel and pulling away from the house. “It’s true, you just never know what goes on behind closed doors. Those poor girls. They’ve had a really rough time.

  “Oh, you know what else? You can probably help with this.” Look in that side pocket of my purse.” Meg pointed to her purse in the backseat. “There’s an old receipt from Target in the pocket where I jotted down the names of some medications. I know you did that volunteer work at the hospital. Do you recognize any of them?”

  Jean rummaged through the pocket locating the crumpled receipt and removed her sunglasses, replacing them with her reading glasses.

  “Where did you get these names? Jean asked.

  Meg cleared her throat. “I just happened to see some bottles in the bathroom.”

  “Hmm. Well, let’s see. You know what Viagra is for. Why the hell did he marry a younger woman if he has this difficulty? Vesicare, I recognize that. I think Manny took it for that frequent urination thing.”

  “Yes, Paul took it too. I know those two. What about the others?”

  “Okay, Lisinopril’s for high blood pressure, and Ambien is for insomnia. Oh my, Respiradone is a medication given for dementia, but there may be other uses. You don’t think Brian is experiencing dementia, do you? He’s not old enough, is he? Zoloft is for depression. That’s quite a list. What do you think this has to do with anything?”

  “I don’t know. Please keep this information to yourself.”

  “Well I’m certainly not going to bridge club announcing you’ve been snooping in the widower’s medicine cabinets.”

  “Good, because I’d have to fire you.”

  There were details about the Hillards that brought up issues Meg had in her own family: the melancholy of her mother, followed by dementia, the depression and suicide of her sister. One of the reasons she was so close to her father and grandfather was the frailties of her mother and sister. When she looked at the twins, she could see the pain in their eyes.

  Jean broke the silence, holding up the receipt. “Did you notice the name of the pharmacy on these prescriptions?”

  “Hmm, I’m sure they were all from Merrick Duncan’s little pharmacy, the one over near the park with the mortar and pestle deal on the sign.”

  “You ever get your prescriptions filled there?” Jean asked.

  “No way. I tried him once, wanting to support the local economy, but Merrick’s prices are outrageous, and he won’t file the insurance forms.” Meg pulled to a stop in front of Jean’s house. “What are you thinking?”

  Jean unbuckled her seat belt. “Merrick goes to that church. I wonder how many of the parishioners do business with him.” She dug her house keys from her bag’s outer pocket. “I’ve always wondered how he stays in business with so many cheaper places for filling prescriptions. I’m not sure what made me think of it. I guess because Merrick and his wife are so close to Wayne.”

  Meg stared straight ahead. “Think about it, Jean. Your pharmacist knows your medical information and the side effects of your drugs. Is it too much speculation to think the church might have motive to want their members to use Merrick’s pharmacy? Just think about how invasive that could be.”

  Jean held her fingers over her bare lips. “Before Lena’s murder, I might think that was grasping, but I don’t know what to think now. That’s not just exploitation, it’s pure evil.”

  “Yeah.” Meg rubbed her forehead with both hands. Her head ached. “When you’re dealing with murder, you have to consider pure evil. Your mind has to take you places you might not want to consider possible.” Yeah, like the irony of religious people being involved in such things. What about Mildred? Suicide?

  ELEVEN

  “I strongly discourage you from going out to that road again. We’ve had the Cadillac moved to the evidence lot.” Detective Crawford said, following up on the car ramming incident.

  “So it was Lena’s car?” Meg said.

  “Mrs. Miller, I’m not going to divulge information from an active investigation. We’re following every lead.”

  Meg poured coffee, encouraging Detective Crawford to stay. Maybe Crawford was hesitant to divulge information about the car, but she’d already shared other findings, so Meg didn’t plan to stop asking questions.

  “I know this is mostly hearsay and gossip, but it might be worth checking out. This group out at Hilltop is suspicious. There has been financial fraud in the past.” Meg set the cream and sugar on the table next to Crawford.

  “Yes, we’re aware of the financial issues and are looking into that aspect. We have a forensic auditor who’s meticulous.”

  Meg nodded. “I’ll be attending the funeral in the morning. I can let you know if there’s anything that looks suspicious.”

  Detective Crawford poured milk into her coffee, not looking up at Meg. “It’s good to have eyes everywhere, I guess. Just be sure to give me a call. Don’t go following anyone or get yourself in a situation you can’t get out of. Apparently, you’ve angered someone enough to make them come after you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll only observe.”

  “This car ramming concerns me. You said it had paper plates?”

  “That’s what Jean saw. She said the driver had on a knit hat and wrap-around sunglasses. I was so intent on driving I couldn’t get details.”

  “Be careful.”

  Meg poured milk into her own mug, stirring. “I have to confess something. You may not like it, but I think it might be important.” Meg was going to beg for forgiveness before admitting what she’d done. “I revisited Brian’s medicine cabinet.” She cut her eyes away from Crawford’s. “There were several prescriptions, including one for dementia. I wrote down the names. You can have them.” Meg took the receipt from her pocket and slid it across the table. The detective glanced at the writing.

  “Here’s the thing that concerns me,” Meg continued. “All of those were filled at Mortar and Pestle Pharmacy over by the park. The pharmacist, Merrick Duncan, owns that place. He’s a member of Hilltop.”

  Meg waited for a response. Crawford tilted her head back at the mention of Merrick Duncan. Meg had clearly hit a nerve. She didn’t care what it meant, just that Crawford was aware. She trusted the detective to follow up.

  “I do have a little advice about this,” Crawford said, holding the rumpled receipt between two fingers. We have technology now making it easier to document. Most cell phones have cameras. One snap and you can capture all the information.” Crawford raised her brows. “Just a little tip.”

  “Of course,” Meg said, embarrassed she hadn’t thought of it. “I forget about technology most of the time. I’m working on getting better at it.”

  When Dorie called later in the evening, Meg told her about seeing the Hillard twins. “I didn’t know them that well,” Dorie replied. “They ran with a wild crowd. There were lots of drinking parties and drugs, even when they were freshmen in high school.”

  “I didn’t know their mother and wasn’t aware she’d committed suicide.”

  “Yeah. Things went downhill for both of them, but especially for Giselle. After you mentioned them the other day, I went home and looked at my yearbooks. The memories came back. They weren’t well liked.”

  Meg wanted more information on why the twins weren’t liked, but before she could ask Dorie said, “Mom, Miranda texted me today and said she had more information. She wanted to know if you could ride up to Dallas with me day after tomorrow for lunch. She has someone she wants you to talk with.”

  “Well I suppose so. Is it about Lena?”

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure. I have a call on a client I can make. It’s close to the hotel. We can go shopping after lunch. It’ll be a fun day trip.”

  “Okay, sure, I’ll plan on it.”

  “Great. Miranda will treat us to lunch in a small dining room at the hotel. She
wants the meeting to be private.”

  “Great, sweetie. I’ll see you then.”

  The following morning, dressed in black, Meg and Jean pulled into the Hilltop Assembly of the Holy parking lot. A prominent sandwich board sign written in a swirling script indicated valet parking. “What?” Jean said. “Valet parking? I’ve seen everything now. These people are just too much.”

  “Now, Jean, in a time of bereavement, a little valet can soothe the soul.” Meg rolled her head toward Jean.

  “I hope you have money to pay them, because all I have is a twenty.” Jean held her billfold open for Meg to see.”

  “Surely they won’t expect money?”

  Jean sighed as she continued to dig in her purse for loose change. “Maybe you should just whip over there to one of those spots.”

  “There’s a barricade,” Meg moaned. “I have no choice but to pull into that driveway and let them park my car.”

  “Look alive. They’re coming our way.” Jean put on a smile to greet the young men opening the door.

  “Ladies, welcome to Hilltop on this day the Lord has made. Mourners are encouraged to stop at the rail and say a prayer of tithing before entering the sanctuary. We are happy to be here for you on this day of your sorrow.”

  Resting her sunglasses on top of her head, Meg stared at the young man delivering the welcome speech. He reminded her of magazine salesmen who had come to her door, seeming to be in a trance as they presented their memorized lines to peddle their wares.

  “Thank you, young man, but we’re visitors and won’t be doing the tithing part. I’d like to keep my keys and park my own car.”

  “Well, ma’am, go right ahead. Those reserved spots will be on the far side of the lot.” The young man stretched his arm toward the empty spaces across the massive lot. Meg glanced to the road and estimated the distance to be at least a quarter of a mile.

  “Thank you.” Meg nodded at the young valet. “Jean, you go ahead. I’ll be right there after I park the car.”