A Dickens of a Crime

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A Dickens of a Crime Page 11

by Phyllis H Moore


  “Hey, Mom. You can put your things over here while we help ourselves to some lunch.” She took Meg by the elbow and ushered her toward some chairs against the wall. Dorie leaned in and spoke closer to her ear. “Miranda will be talking with us over lunch.”

  She’d expected to see Tom Richards in the room, but he wasn’t there. It was disappointing, but it also made her wonder why he was at the hotel. Her intuition and her experience weren’t in sync. The view from the panoramic windows wasn’t the only thing throwing her off balance.

  FIFTEEN

  MEG AND DORIE filled their plates from a table full of cold cuts, breads, relishes, and fruit, then joined another woman at the large round table. Miranda introduced the woman as Maria Chavez, promising to explain her role later.

  Miranda took a seat with a glass of tea in front of her, running her hands over the top of the white table cloth and taking a deep breath. Meg interpreted her actions as nerves, but she couldn’t think of a reason for Miranda to be nervous. What’s going on here? She was losing her patience for chit chat.

  Meg took a sip of iced tea. “I’m not sure what to say. Are you nervous about something?” She looked to Miranda.

  “Yes, I am,” Miranda admitted. “I was caught off guard just a few minutes ago and I have to explain.”

  “The truth will work. Always has.” Meg said, smiling. Her time was being wasted with anything other than the truth.

  “It’s complicated. There’s the truth and there’s what I can safely say and I’m having trouble separating them, so bear with me.”

  Meg picked at chicken salad with her fork, deciding to give Miranda a chance to collect her thoughts.

  Clearing her throat, their hostess began, “There was a very last minute change in plans. Tom Richards had planned to be here and actually was on the property, but was just called away.”

  “I saw him in the lobby,” Meg said.

  Miranda nodded. “Did you speak to him?”

  “No, he didn’t see me and I thought it would be awkward.”

  “So, I’ll say what he was going to say and I hope I can do it justice. That’s what my nerves are about.”

  “You’ll do fine. I’m sure whatever he planned to say will be just as valid coming from you. I’m just confused about why Tom would even be here.”

  “That’s what I want to explain.” Miranda relaxed. “I think I mentioned before that I’ve known Tom for a while, since his time in Tyler.”

  Meg nodded. She did recall something.

  “So our relationship is a professional one now. He works for an organization and I sort of subcontract. This is the complicated part I’m not sure how to explain. I guess I’m asking you to trust that Tom’s not exactly who he seems to be. He could explain this so much better.”

  “I’m confused,” Meg admitted. “Tom’s not the executive director of the historical foundation?”

  “No, I mean yes, he is that, but he has another job. It’s an important job and he’s trying to solve a big crime, one much broader than the recent murder.”

  “He’s undercover or something?” Meg said.

  Miranda nodded. “I was recruited a while back because of my job to help with information. He intended to seek your assistance also.”

  Meg thought that was a compliment, but she wasn’t sure what assistance she could provide.

  Dorie looked at Miranda, putting her fork down on her plate. “Are you suggesting that Mom could be involved somehow in this investigation? Could this be dangerous?”

  “I’m already involved,” Meg said looking toward Dorie. “I discovered the body. I’m willing to be helpful if I can. I feel responsible to Lena in a way.”

  “I don’t think it’s dangerous,” Miranda said. “What Tom wants is eyes and ears in the community to give him a heads up when there’s talk. He trusts Meg and they have valid reasons to be seen talking to each other. She knows history—history he and others don’t”

  “So, I guess you don’t want me asking too many questions about his job or what he’s doing?” Meg said. She’d lost interest in the meal. The anticipation for the luncheon was much different than what she was experiencing.

  “Yes. I’m supposed to tell you he’ll be back to work tomorrow at the foundation. He was called out of town about the situation he’s involved with and it’s directly related to Lena’s murder.”

  “What he’s involved with includes Lena’s murder, but is bigger?” Meg said.

  “Yes. He also wants you to know he’s befriended people he wouldn’t normally, like some guy he left his car with.”

  “You don’t know the name?”

  “I think it was Hank, or Harry?”

  “Hal, it must have been Hal.” Meg nodded.

  “Tom returned to town last night and picked up his car from that guy and learned some disturbing things about a contest or something. He’s dealing with the investigation and other things in the community.”

  “I think I understand. He does have a great deal on his plate with the foundation and the recent festival.”

  “I’m relieved you understand, because, I don’t know how to explain something I can’t say. It makes no sense. I was only recently recruited to this, so I’m a novice and then Tom got called away.”

  “It’s okay. I have a detective I’m relying on there in town and I think I understand what’s going on. Not clearly, but it’s making a little more sense.”

  “So, you may be seeing Maria around town,” Miranda said. “She’s been hired as the bartender at the country club. Most of the people Tom’s interested in are there regularly.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Maria. I wish you were coming to our town under more normal circumstances. You won’t be seeing me at the country club.”

  Maria smiled. “Maybe in the grocery store?”

  Meg smiled, and turned back to Miranda. “So I should get in touch with Tom if I learn something in the community about what?”

  “Anything you think might be relevant, especially if it has something to do with the congregation the Hillards belong to.”

  “I see. I’m encouraged by what you’re saying. I can see where this is going.” Meg was heartened to know there was a bigger investigation, but was Crawford aware?

  “It’s big, Mrs. Miller. It’s organized crime big, and that’s all I can say.”

  Meg glanced at Dorie, remembering their discussion on the way to Dallas. She had an intuition about young women, sexual harassment, the church. It made her stomach turn. She assumed there was an investigation going on about HAH and hopefully there would be attention on the leadership.

  Miranda says Lena’s murder is only part of the investigation. What could the crimes of the church leadership be?

  SIXTEEN

  DORIE WAS QUIET on the drive back, glancing at Meg often.

  Finally Meg said, “I know you’re watching me. What are you thinking?”

  “You’re taking this all in stride, but I’m thinking it doesn’t pass the smell test.”

  “I understand what Miranda alluded to. Lena’s murder involves that church, but there’s more to it, something bigger,” Meg said.

  “What could be bigger than murder?” Dorie said.

  “More than one murder, organized crime, she said. What about organized crime? Gambling. Drug trafficking. What could it be?

  “You know I can smell a dead mouse ten minutes before it dies. That church has always bothered me, but I couldn’t tell you anything specific.”

  “I thought we were going to have a nice hot lunch in a cozy spot,” Dorie laughed. “I was a little disappointed.”

  Meg giggled. “Me too. How shallow are we? At first I was disappointed in the cold cuts, then when I knew Tom was supposed to be there and left, that was a second disappointment.”

  “Please be careful,” Dorie said. “Use your good judgement. Don’t put yourself in a situation where you might be in danger.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m pretty much a chicken when i
t comes to danger. Don’t you remember me turning around in that spook house you drug me to at the Halloween carnival?”

  They laughed, but she was cringing and had no intention of telling Dorie about being rammed near Rusk Farm.

  Meg sat in the car while her daughter ran into the supermarket to pick up milk. Dorie had purchased a chocolate cake at a bake sale during the festival and the leftovers couldn’t be eaten until they had more milk.

  Thinking of Dorie and her young husband eating midnight snacks of cake and milk in their quaint kitchen made Meg smile to herself.

  As she stared across the parking lot, a car pulled up beside her and Jean was soon rapping at her window.

  “I’ve been calling your house. I need to talk with you. Can I get in a minute?”

  “Well sure, hop in.”

  Jean was breathless as she scooted to the middle of the back seat. “I’m so glad I spotted you. I’ve been beside myself trying to get word to you, and then I decided maybe your phone’s been bugged and that’s why you weren’t answering.”

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “Okay, I’ll start from the beginning. You know I have a previous relationship with Giselle. Well, she’s been in touch with me, but it’s all been very secretive, and I think it’s directly related to Lena’s death. I’m afraid for those girls, especially her.”

  “Jean, we do need to talk, and the sooner the better. Do you have time now? We can grab a bite to eat and visit.”

  “Absolutely. Now’s better than later. I’ve been looking for you most of the day. Why don’t you come with me in my car?”

  Jean waited in the back seat for Dorie to return. They greeted her with pleasant faces, glad to tell her their plans to have dinner together. Dorie was hesitant to leave but told Meg she would talk with her later.

  “Be careful, Mom. Don’t do anything without talking with someone about your whereabouts.”

  “I will, sweetie. Don’t worry.”

  “She’s right, Meg. Jean told her once they were in her car. “You need to proceed with caution. This situation with Giselle has me on edge.”

  Seated in an isolated booth in their favorite burger place, they ordered burgers and shakes while Jean brought Meg up to date on Giselle. “Did you notice anything about her left arm at the funeral?”

  “Yes, it was wrapped in a skin-tone bandage. I did notice it when they walked down the aisle behind the casket.”

  “That poor girl. I found a note she slipped in my bag. Found it this morning when I was changing purses.” Jean opened her purse and took out a piece of folded paper, ripped from a yellow legal pad. The page was covered with a unique script.

  Meg read the note silently. When she was done, she glanced up at Jean and blinked slowly. “What in the world has that child been through?”

  There was an interruption from a waitress happy to pour more water into their glasses. Jean forced a smile and nodded, then shot Meg a horrified look after the waitress walked away.

  “Here’s the deal, Meg. I tried to call the number she wrote at the bottom and there’s never an answer. I don’t want to leave a message. I don’t know who would hear it.”

  “Let’s think about this. She just doesn’t have much credibility. However, I’d hate to ignore her and assume she’s bluffing. That bandage on her arm does confirm what she says here about being injured.”

  “I know she’s not a child, but you’re right we can’t ignore it. She’s always been troubled, but this could be the very root of all her problems, you know?” Jean said.

  “Yes, I certainly do. It would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Meg glanced down to the note again. “She says she’s being held against her will by the church, and they won’t allow her to go anywhere or talk to anyone without someone with her. She mentions it’s been going on for years, even in college.”

  She looked up at Jean. “Does that seem possible? Why didn’t she say something to you the other day when we were at the Hillards’? Who is holding her?”

  “I don’t know. After Lena’s murder, I don’t know what’s possible anymore,” Jean said. “Maybe there was someone there watching her at Brian’s.”

  “Well,” Meg started, holding the note up, “she says she can’t go to the police because she’s being watched. I think we can share this with the police on her behalf.” This was exactly the type of information the police detective should be told about.

  “My stomach’s been in knots all day.” Jean sighed. Meg watched as she took a big bite from her burger.

  “Dorie and I just returned from Dallas, and I was able to talk with someone there. I’m encouraged that there’s an investigation bigger than Lena’s death.

  “Bigger than a murder?”

  “Yes, possibly organized crime.” Meg took a bite of burger.

  “You trust that detective you’ve been working with—what’s her name, Crenshaw?”

  “Crawford. Detective Crawford. And yes, I do. Let’s give this some more thought. It struck me that I didn’t see either of the girls’ husbands at the funeral. Were you introduced to one?” Meg asked.

  “No. In fact, I asked Giselle to introduce me to hers. She said they’re estranged.” Jean looked at Meg with raised brows. “I mentioned Geneva’s husband, and Giselle said he wasn’t around either.”

  “Hmm.” Meg rubbed her arms through the cotton sleeves of her blouse. “I don’t remember their weddings being announced. Do you?”

  “No, I never saw mention in the paper or announcements or anything like that. That’s also peculiar, especially with all the attention to detail that church espouses. It’s hard to believe Lena wouldn’t have called attention to a social event like a wedding.” Jean pushed a french fry around on her plate. “Here’s another thing. With their feelings toward Lena, why would those girls even agree to participate in that second wedding funeral farce we witnessed the other day. They were very clear on how they felt about their stepmother.”

  “You’re right, they seem pretty strong-willed. I had the same thoughts about those outfits.” Meg took a sweater from her bag. “That’s why the pleadings in this note make no sense to me. You didn’t actually see her slip it into your purse?”

  “No, I just found it this morning. But what would be the motivation for anyone else to do such a thing?”

  “I was with you the whole time, except for when I was parking the car. Did anyone walk up to you and stand on the same side as your purse?”

  “I stood there, gapping at the painted ceiling and chandelier, holding my purse with both hands down in front of me. I’m sure of that. It wasn’t long before you joined me.”

  Meg stirred her milkshake with her straw. “I’m trying to remember anyone else who might’ve approached us. Nell Landry, she came up to us after the meal, remember?”

  “You’re right, she hugged me. I thought that was weird because I’ve never known her that well. My purse was on the floor beside the chair. I don’t think it could have been her.”

  “Hmm, why would she be inclined to deliver that note? This mystery just keeps getting more complicated, and I have a feeling someone is trying to throw us off track. I was led to believe the girls would be returning to their homes in Dallas after the funeral. Do you know if they’ve left?”

  “I have no idea. If they did and this note is accurate, is she being held in Dallas?”

  “Okay, let’s assume that’s where they are. I’ll try to verify some information I received recently. I think it’ll help me decide who I can trust. Hold tight until the morning and keep trying the number on this note. Let me know if you get a response from Giselle.” Meg handed the note back to Jean. “Here, take this. It was meant for you, so you should keep it until someone tells us otherwise. If this has really been going on, and for this long, it can wait for morning.”

  Jean inhaled and breathed out a sigh. “I’m glad I saw Dorie’s car. I couldn’t imagine where you were. What have you been doing?”

  “We made a shop
ping trip to Dallas,” Meg explained. “I got a little Christmas shopping out of the way, but you know I’d rather shop local.”

  Meg glanced at her cell phone and noticed the battery had died. “Well, a lot of good a mobile phone does when you don’t keep it charged.” She rolled her eyes at Jean.

  “I know. I do the same thing. Keeps me in trouble with the kids. What did they do before they could call us in our purse?”

  “I don’t know, but I had some peace and quiet back then at least.”

  Jean dropped Meg at her house, pulling down the drive to the back. LaRue shot out the door when Meg opened it. Placing her bag on the kitchen table, she glanced at the answering machine.

  When she pushed the Play button, the automated voice greeted her with, “You have fifteen missed calls.”

  SEVENTEEN

  MEG COULDN’T IMAGINE why she would have so many calls. She was weary from a day of travel. As she settled at the small kitchen desk, the phone rang. “Mom, I’ve been trying to get you,” Dorie sputtered even before Meg said hello.

  “Okay, you have me now. What’s up?” It still made no sense to Meg that the young people thought she should be ever present.

  “I called your cell and it went straight to voice mail, and then there was no answer on your land-line. I was frantic.”

  “Okay! Sorry, Dorie. Put me in time-out or something. You know I never remember to keep that cell phone charged. I didn’t know there would be an emergency, what’s going on?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Dorie cried.

  “Dorie? What are you trying to say? What am I missing here? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I was just worried about you. When I couldn’t get a hold of you … well, my mind just went to a scary place. I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re okay.”

 

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