A Dickens of a Crime

by Phyllis H Moore

  “I suppose that might be it. But wouldn’t you think that when you have young, beautiful daughters who lose their mother, you’d snap to and focus your attention on their needs?”

  “We would, but I don’t know how men think about such things. Facing emotional situations is scary for them, and their own personal needs are uppermost in their minds. Why else would they invent Viagra, or golf aids, or Corvettes?”

  Jean laughed. “That’s just silly, Meg. You’re not serious, are you?”

  “No, not really, but a little bit.”

  “The cake’s thawed. You ready?”

  As they pulled in front of Brian Hillard’s house, Meg noticed a car that wasn’t his.

  “Who do you suppose that is?” Jean said.

  “I don’t recognize it, but that’s not going to stop me from ringing the bell.”

  They stood directly in front of the beveled glass door with the chocolate cake held firmly in front of Jean, wanting Brian to see them and their positive intentions.

  “Here he comes. Smile, Jean.”

  “I’m smiling,” Jean insisted, trying not to move her curved lips.

  “Well, what are you two up to?” Brian barked as he swung the door open.

  “Just want to make sure you’re getting enough to eat,” Meg cooed.

  Jean rolled her eyes as Brian turned his back to usher them inside.

  “You have a new car?” Meg asked.

  “Yes, I do. Bad memories associated with the Cadillac, so I decided I’d try a Mercedes.”

  Meg glanced over her shoulder at the car. A Mercedes and a Range Rover, Meg thought, tallying the cars she was aware of.

  “Sorry, Brian, I know this has been an ordeal for you. Have the police gotten any closer to discovering what happened?”

  “Well, I don’t have much information. Seems I’m the most likely suspect, and they’re probably not going to share their investigation with me.”

  Meg watched Brian’s face as he spoke. He appeared tired. His eyes, once sparkling, enthusiastic, almost mischievous, were void and flat, dark circles beneath them.

  “Surely they don’t think you could’ve done that?” Meg looked at him earnestly with widened eyes.

  “It’s beyond me. I really don’t know. Sorry I can’t chat longer, but I’m due at a meeting downtown. Thanks for the cake. I wish the girls had been able to stay longer. They could help me eat it.”

  “How are they doing, Brian? I hadn’t seen them since they graduated high school. They’ve grown into beautiful young women.” Meg moved closer to the den to glance around while Jean took the cake to the kitchen.

  “They never got very close to Lena.” Brian walked behind Meg, his hands pushed into his pockets, his shoulders slumped, never offering either of them a seat. “They had a rough time with their mother’s death. I did too, but they didn’t seem to care much about that. When I remarried they were both pissed. I suppose they still are.”

  He stood up straighter and looked directly at Meg. “It hasn’t been easy. When they’re here, it’s chaos and there’s no talking to them. It’s always been like that.”

  “Give them some time. You know my Dorie was in their class, and they have a reunion coming up. Maybe they’ll be willing to pay a visit to see some of their old classmates.”

  “Maybe so. I wouldn’t hang my hat on that, though. We’ve always had a strained relationship, even when their mother was alive. I should’ve had boys.”

  “Well, you can’t hang your hat on ‘should haves’ either.” Meg shrugged and headed toward the kitchen. “You don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, Brian. I know you’re not the type to ask for help, but sometimes people just need some support.”

  “I appreciate the thought, ladies, and I’ll enjoy the cake.” Brian patted his substantial girth and grinned.

  “Somethings wrong with him,” Jean insisted after they were in the car headed out of the gated neighborhood. “He doesn’t have the feelings he should about those girls, and who goes out and buys a new car two days after their spouse’s funeral? If he’s so concerned about the police suspecting him, why would he be spending money on a Mercedes? Not only is he obnoxious, he’s down-right stupid.”

  Meg giggled. “I know it seems wrong, but he is laughable. I don’t think it’s stupidity as much as it’s arrogance. He thinks he’s above the law, above suspicion, and doesn’t have to go by the rules. However, he’s looking a little haggard.”

  “It’s a little eerie the way he talks about the twins, don’t you think?” Jean said. “That part about they should’ve been boys?”

  “Yeah. Did you notice he brought up his first wife a couple of times? It made me think of those cases you see on television where the men are so arrogant they continue to kill the women they marry, one after the other.”

  “Exactly. That’s just what I was thinking. His M O fits that type of situation. Think about it—both women were found nude. No woman in their right mind wants to be found nude. It’s kind of demeaning, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know why this is on my mind … You want to do a little research?” Meg turned down Main Street instead of heading toward Jean’s.

  They headed toward the County Clerk’s office. Meg wanted to verify some dates. She and Jean spent an hour searching through birth, death, and marriage certificates. Meg took Crawford’s advice and used the camera on her phone this time. What they discovered needed to be shared with the detective. It would be a major revelation in the Hillard family relationships.

  TWENTY

  DORIE PICKED MEG up for dinner and margaritas at their favorite Mexican food restaurant. Meg wanted to talk with her about how to get Giselle and Geneva involved in the reunion planning. She was encouraged that Dorie had their phone numbers and email addresses.

  “So they’re not hiding somewhere? They’re actually approachable?”

  “They seem to be. I never got the impression that they weren’t able to communicate. They sent the information to me with no prodding.”

  “That’s good to hear, because the note Giselle gave Jean is very disturbing. It breaks my heart to read—like she’s pleading for help. Then the hang-ups on my answering machine make me wonder what’s going on with her.”

  “Giselle’s always been a little weird and overdramatic. She hasn’t exactly had an easy life or demonstrated good judgment.” Dorie said, before sipping on a margarita.

  “I know, but I don’t think it’s been her fault. She seems to be searching for something.”

  “Yeah, well that excuse is okay for a while, but when you get to be a certain age, maturity is supposed to kick in and you have to be accountable for your actions. I don’t want to seem insensitive, but some people are victims by choice,” Dorie said.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m just saying some of these girls who hook up with sugar daddies on-line and work at ‘breast-o-rants’ might be using the opposite sex to further themselves financially. It goes both ways. There have been rumors about both of them since they were in their early teens.”

  “I see what you mean. However, the demand is there first, in my opinion. And young teens don’t just choose that behavior. It’s a problem for young run-aways. Always has been.”

  Meg was anxious to change the subject. This sounded too much like her exploitation. She understood Dorie’s point, but things were more complicated than a woman’s outward behavior. Some people weren’t as resilient, especially when they continued to be manipulated.

  “On another topic, I was thinking about the evening I went to Darrow House. Besides the aroma of cologne in the master bedroom, I noticed the bed was rumpled. Whoever murdered Lena either left in a hurry and didn’t get a chance to smooth the bed, or they didn’t notice it. I can’t help but think there’s more evidence there.”

  “You still have a key to Darrow House, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. I suppose I could go in and check around. I know you wanted to run by the store
, but would you mind dropping me by Darrow and picking me up after shopping?” Meg forced a wide smile.

  Dorie tilted her head. She wasn’t smiling. “Do you have an excuse for why you might need to be in the house in case someone comes by and notices you there?” Dorie asked. She sounded reluctant.

  “Sure. I stop by the houses sometimes to check on things, make sure the water heaters haven’t leaked, or a mouse hasn’t died behind a curtain. I can come up with something.”

  “It’s against my better judgment, but I know you’ll just go over there anyway, so I’ll do it. It’ll help me sleep better if I know you’re not sneaking out of the house after I take you home,” Dorie responded, unsmiling. “Don’t think I approve.”

  “This sounds like role reversal. I’ve reached that magic age where you’re checking on me and not vice-versa.” Meg laughed, wishing Dorie could get as excited about investigating as she was.

  Dorie did indeed take Meg to Darrow, dropping her off at the alley entrance.

  The outside lights streamed through the tall, sparsely covered windows, allowing Meg to make her way from the back hall to the breakfast area with no problem. She grabbed one of the flashlights from a kitchen drawer to take upstairs for her search. Despite having permission to access the house, she wanted to avoid detection and explanations.

  As she closed the drawer, lights from a car driving down the alley caught her eye and she glanced up to see the car pull into the parking area behind Darrow. She stepped back from the window, the lights keeping her from being able to see the car clearly.

  Meg made her way to the main hall and up the stairs so she could view the car from the upper level. However, when she looked out the window, her view was obscured by the porch roof. Just then, her phone vibrated with a text from Dorie: Mom, small red car approaching. On Second Ave., watching.

  Thinking it might be Tom, She texted back, Thanx, stay put, upstairs. No lights, have flashlight. She tiptoed to the top of the stairs, remaining on the Oriental rug to muffle her steps, and listened for any sound. It wasn’t long before she heard the back door opening and voices. Meg froze, considering if she should call out, then decided not to. She would have to explain why she was there, why the lights weren’t on, and why there was no vehicle outside. A light turned on downstairs, dispersed into the front foyer. She heard Tom’s voice first, then Hal’s. They were coming closer to the stairs.

  Meg backed down the hall toward the master bedroom, making her way toward the closet as she strained to listen. They were at the top of the stairs, coming toward the bedroom.

  Meg opened the closet, the same one where she put on the petticoat the afternoon of the homes tour. She closed the door softly, pressing her ear against it. Soon light filtered around the edges of the door.

  Tom’s unmistakable voice boomed throughout the room. “Well, it looks like the police might’ve left everything as they found it. I was worried there’d be crime tape or something. I don’t think we need to do anything.”

  Hal must have been across the room, as Meg had a more difficult time hearing him when he replied. “I’ve been in this room several times, checking the lightbulbs and putting costume pieces in that closet.” It was barely audible, but she thought she heard Hal mention concern for the back door being unlocked.

  Meg threw her head back, frustrated with herself for choosing the closet and failing to lock the back door. I should have picked another room. She pressed her back to the wall next to the door hinge, just in case one of them opened the door.

  “You know the police—“Hal’s voice dropped away for a moment “—and other ways of determining who was present.” She couldn’t figure out the context of that comment. It was irritating that she was only catching snippets of his part of the conversation.

  “Hal, I think the police will identify a suspect sooner or later. We’ll just have to wait and see who that might be. I hope it’s not someone from HAH. That would be a scandal that would be hard to overcome.”

  “Well, I sure wish we knew where that locket is. I can’t believe it just disappeared off your desk. Lena said several times it was very expensive, valuable to her. She liked antiques. It’s Edwardian and platinum …”

  They’re talking about my locket. What the heck? How does he know it’s platinum or Edwardian?

  “So many people have been through this house on tours and what-not. They’ll never be able to use DNA or anything to pinpoint the killer.”

  “Okay, just … advocate here, but couldn’t that same rationale apply…”

  Meg pressed her ear closer to the wall convinced she needed to visit the audiologist to consider a hearing aid. This is maddening. Hal mumbles and slurs his words like that twentysomething waiter in the restaurant tonight.

  “Well, I don’t see anything in here we need to tend to.” Meg was grateful for Tom’s booming, clear voice.

  Meg heard movement and the light disappeared from around the door. She held the doorknob, listening to their muffled voices; it sounded as if they were descending the stairs. Easing the door open, she peeked through the crack, then stepped out into the room, closing it slowly, wincing when the knob clicked. She stepped onto the thick rug and tiptoed toward the doorway and the upstairs hall. Meg swallowed, struggling again to listen. She could see there was still a light on downstairs. Her eyes played tricks on her as she tried to focus, the shadows in the hall appearing to move the longer she stood there.

  Finally the downstairs lights went off, and Meg walked to the top of the stairs, then turned back to watch out the hall window. She saw red lights reflect off the shed in the back, and assumed the car was backing up.

  As she continued to watch, her phone vibrated, taking her by surprise. The screen on her phone glowed as she looked at Dorie’s text: They’re leaving.

  “K,” She was a little anxious about the reprimand she would hear from Dorie, but she thought she’d heard an interesting conversation. However, she was even more confused about what went on than she had been before. Why would Tom visit Darrow with Hal?

  TWENTY-ONE

  MEG WAS LOCKING the back door at Darrow House when Dorie pulled into the alley with her lights off. Hurrying down the steps and into the car, Meg didn’t realize until she tried to secure the seat belt that she still had the flashlight in her hand.

  “Mom, this is exactly what I was talking about. You’re no spring chicken. Sleuths need to have their wits about them at all times. You’re going to slip up and get caught, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

  “I expected that reprimand. However, I was lucky enough to overhear a conversation as I hid in the upstairs closet.”

  Dorie sighed as she backed into the alley, turning the lights on as she approached Third Avenue. “If it solves this crime, I’m all for it. Otherwise, I think you need to give up this detective work.” Meg heard Dorie’s concern, but she was in a position to get information the paid investigators couldn’t access, and she was enjoying it.

  “Well, bad news there. It just poses more questions for me. I need to get home immediately and write down what I heard before I forget the exact wording.”

  “Mom, why don’t you just turn this over to Detective Crawford and let her follow up?”

  “I had the unique ability to be in that closet. She doesn’t, and she has so many rules she has to follow.”

  “There are rules for a reason, Mom.”

  “Yes, and normally I would say they should be followed. But as a concerned citizen, they don’t presently apply to me. I’ve waited all my life to say that—you know me well enough to know that’s true. I’ve never been one to bend the rules in my favor, but the way I see it, I’m not bending them for me. I’m doing the work of the people.” Meg put the flashlight in Dorie’s cup holder.

  “Sheesh. You might as well don your Wonder Woman cape and fly home. You might get there quicker.” Dorie sighed with a deepness Meg didn’t think fit the circumstances.

  “What’s the matter? Can’t stand it that your m
other’s a superhero?”

  “No, I just realized I didn’t get my groceries. Isn’t this the definition of all dysfunction—it interferes with daily living?”

  “Sorry, Dorie. I wish I could offer to sit in the car while you run in the store, but you’re going to have to drop me off first. I really need to get to my notes.”

  Dorie rolled her eyes. “Okay. I’m lucky I don’t have one of those husbands who checks the odometer and times my absences.”

  “He’s a doll. You can tell him I said so.”

  “I would say he understands. I was sprung from crazy.”

  “Now that’s not necessary, young lady. Surely you jest.”

  “Okay, yes, I jest.” Dorie turned into Meg’s drive. “Now, don’t go doing anything else like this without telling me. I don’t intend to have to make midnight runs looking for you.”

  “I promise.” Meg had the seatbelt unbuckled before Dorie stopped the car. “Bye, sweetie.” She hurried up the back steps, almost tripping over LaRue as they collided in the doorway. Meg giggled, then turned and waved to Dorie.

  Meg went straight to her chair in the living room, dropping to her knees to the lower shelf on the end table as she probed through a pile of magazines, but couldn’t find her notepad. She sat up straighter and took a deep breath, willing herself to remember the last place she’d used it.

  Pushing herself to her feet, she headed to the kitchen, noticing she had messages but no legal pad.

  I have to find my notes and write this down before I listen to any messages.

  LaRue scratched at the back screen, mewing. Meg opened the door to let her in, shedding her sweater on one of the kitchen chairs; she had worked up a sweat searching for her tablet. Calm yourself, Meg. Think back to yesterday. She went into the bathroom and glanced at herself in the mirror. Maybe if I put my nightgown on….