Botched 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  “Possibly. There were other witnesses, according to the police report. Two tenants, on their way out of the building, saw Darla Marlinde getting into her car and driving off. They didn’t say anything about Sorrel being in the vicinity.”

  “No, because they probably figured it was too inconsequential, and no one would have thought to ask if some environmental lady was there getting signatures for a petition. If you have their names you can check them against the petition. That is, if they agreed to sign it.”

  More guttural sounds emanated from Marshall. I knew he was seething about what I had done, and yet, he was also genuinely excited about the direction in which the case was going, even though he refused to acknowledge it.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and bit his lip. “Part of me wants to say we might be jumping to conclusions but the other part is yelling you might be right.”

  He said “we.” Does this mean he believes me?

  “There’s more. I’m positive the desk assistant is Eleanor Landrow’s brother. It was the same guy I saw her with that night at La Mariposa. I’ll wager a week’s pay Eleanor’s maiden name is Burrier. Rolo Barnes should be able to find that out in a nanosecond. And I’ve got the motive, too. When Trevor Burrier realized Sorrel was the only person who could vindicate Darla Marlinde, he had to do something about it.”

  “You’re suggesting he found out who Sorrel was, learned she lived in the same community as his sister, and, together with his sibling, plotted and carried out that murder on the golf course.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “Too far-fetched.”

  “As opposed to what else? No one’s been able to track down anyone with the archery skills to pull off something like that. Only Eleanor was that accomplished.”

  “When she was in college! That was years ago.”

  “I’m sticking with my theory, even if you’re not.”

  Marshall scratched his head and pulled over a chair. Either he got tired of standing or he was about to lecture me again. “I hate saying this. I really do.”

  Oh hell. Here it comes. We’re through.

  “Darla Marlinde may be spending her last night in police custody. You really did uncover some strong evidence that will turn her case upside down. I’ve got to meet with Nate, and we’ve got to share this with the sheriff’s department as well as the Paradise Valley Police Department.”

  “What about Sorrel’s murder? I’m positive both murders are connected. They have to be.”

  “If you’re right, the police may get a confession out of Trevor Burrier, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

  He walked to the door. “Please tell me you’re done sleuthing in Paradise Valley. I’m going to run out of favors there.”

  “I plan to stay home tonight.”

  “Good. And keep your door locked.”

  He closed my office door as he left, and I didn’t find out what had ensued with Trevor Burrier until the next day. I did realize one thing, though. I had to come clean as far as my boss was concerned. He deserved that and a whole lot more.

  Chapter 30

  It sounded as if an air raid siren went off in my bedroom, and I couldn’t reach the phone fast enough. Darn it! I had turned the volume up last night and forgot to lower it.

  “Phee! Did you see the news? Williams Investigations is all over the news! Streetman got me up early this morning, or I never would’ve seen it.”

  “Huh? What? What time is it?”

  “Five forty-five.”

  I reached over to my alarm clock and shut it off. “What’s going on? What’s on the news?”

  “The Darla Marlinde Scorpion Killer Case. She didn’t kill him after all. The real killer was apprehended in the middle of the night. Williams Investigations uncovered some important evidence that broke the case wide open. What the heck were they doing working on the Darla Marlinde case when they should have been finding out who killed Sorrel Harlan!”

  It was early and I was groggy, but I was still able to process everything my mother was saying. The Darla Marlinde case. That’s why Marshall and Nate disappeared shortly after my conversation with Marshall yesterday.

  “Um, I don’t know. Let me call you later.”

  “Better yet, meet me at Bagels ’N More when you get out of work. The ladies and I are going to be there at five-thirty. Five forty-five the latest. Plenty of time for you to drive over. What do you say?”

  “Okay. Fine. Bagels ’N More. Five-thirtyish.”

  She hung up as I threw my legs over the bed and stretched. I got washed up as quickly as I could and turned on the TV as I made myself a cup of coffee. Sure enough, the Darla Marlinde case was exploding all over the news.

  Trevor Burrier confessed to everything. Everything, that is, except killing Sorrel Harlan. He was adamant he had nothing whatsoever to do with her murder. According to the news commentaries, and they were on every channel, Trevor Burrier was a data analyst who used to work for Marc Yost’s company, Metronics, Inc. About a year ago, Trevor was let go for unspecified reasons. As a result, his income plummeted, and the only job he was able to secure was that of a desk assistant.

  When he realized Marc Yost lived in the very condo where he worked, Trevor wanted to get even, so he plotted a way to terrorize Marc and frame Darla Marlinde. I had been right all along. Why then, wasn’t the guy admitting to killing Sorrel? It made no sense to me. I took a quick breath, threw on my clothes, and drove to work. Nate was the only one in the office when I walked in, and he immediately threw his hands up in the air.

  “Okay. Okay. I admit it. Darla Marlinde wouldn’t be a free person this morning if you hadn’t snooped around over there. But seriously, kiddo, these exploits could get you in serious trouble, not to mention, killed.”

  “I know. I know. And I really am sorry about not being upfront with you.”

  “Snooping around Sun City West is one thing. And, to be honest, the wealth of information you get from doing that really comes in handy, but as far as high-profile cases go, it’s dangerous territory.”

  “Augusta thinks I should carry a gun.”

  “Dear God. Only a gun? I’m surprised she didn’t insist on an automatic rifle and a few hand grenades. Seriously, Phee, you know what I’m saying.”

  “I do. I guess the Paradise Valley police arrested Trevor by now. Do you know if he confessed to killing Sorrel as well as Marc?”

  “According to what I heard, Trevor did not confess to the murder of Sorrel Harlan. He had no clue she was outside with that swan petition of hers. He collected the bark scorpions in the middle of the night. Said he never intended to kill Marc Yost either, only to scare him by putting the scorpions in his bed. Marc had a major allergic reaction to the number of stings and died.”

  “And the police believed Trevor?”

  “He passed the lie detector test.”

  “Oh no. Oh no. That means Sorrel Harlan’s killer is still loose, and it’s highly doubtful it was Eleanor. It wasn’t as if she was helping her brother. Trevor is her brother, isn’t he?”

  “Right on all counts. Rolo got that information to us immediately.”

  “So now what?”

  “Re-evaluate our leads and go from there.”

  “So essentially, starting over.”

  Nate let out a quick laugh. “With one exception. We’ve already eliminated a good number of potential suspects.”

  “It doesn’t matter. My mother and her friends are literally going to have a conniption fit over this. You know how hysterical they can get.”

  “Please don’t remind me.”

  At that moment, Augusta and Marshall came in the door, with Augusta poking Marshall on the shoulder and pointing to me. “You should be thanking her.”

  “Um, the person who should be thanking her is Darla Marlinde.”

  “Your welcome, Darla,” I shouted as I walked over to the coffeemaker. Marshall was right behind me and spoke in a low voice. “Mind if I have a word with you?” Then he glanced at
Augusta. “In your office?”

  I nodded and we immediately walked into my office.

  “I think both of us owe each other apologies,” Marshall said. “I should go first. I’m sorry if I was rude to you yesterday. I let my anger get the best of me, and it wasn’t pretty.”

  “Well, I should’ve been open and honest with you. With Nate, too, for that matter. I already apologized to him.”

  Marshall looked fidgety, almost nervous. “So, are we good?”

  “Yeah, we’re good. It’s not easy having a relationship with someone you work with. I suppose that’s why so many businesses don’t allow it.”

  “Businesses can’t dictate what the heart wants.”

  “No, but they can dictate where the paycheck comes from.”

  “So, feel like grabbing a bite to eat after work?”

  “Um, I already made plans. With my mother and her friends. Bagels ’N More. You’re more than welcome to join me.”

  “And what? Get interrogated because we haven’t solved Sorrel’s murder yet? No thanks. The Salem Witch Trials would’ve paled in comparison to what I imagine tonight’s conversation will be like. I’ll take a raincheck. Just you and me, okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The tension I felt from what had transpired between Marshall and me yesterday had vanished, only to be replaced by a new tension—the Booked 4 Murder book club’s growing fear and hysteria over a cold-blooded, arrow-shooting killer who may or may not be stalking my mother and her friends.

  * * *

  The moment I set foot in Bagels ’N More, the women got right to it.

  “Hurry up, Phee, and sit down,” Myrna shouted, causing a few heads to turn. “Why was your boss busy with that scorpion killer case when I could’ve been killed by an arrow during the bocce tournament?”

  “Yeah,” Lucinda said. “Doesn’t he realize the danger all of us are in?”

  I tried to tell them that all precautions were taken during that tournament so no one was in eminent danger. After a few grumbles and some minor side conversations involving how old they thought the tuna salad might be, the ladies seemed to settle down.

  It was a relatively small gathering—Myrna, Lucinda, Louise, Cecilia, Shirley, Riva, and my mother. The others in the group were either playing cards or mahjong. Our bagel sandwiches arrived in record time, and I was relieved. At least I was guaranteed a few minutes of relative quiet while they ate.

  Then, no surprise, the subject of Sorrel Harlan’s murder reappeared like one of those dead bodies in a horror movie. Always springing back to life to claim another victim. In this case, me. And who was leading the charge? None other than my mother.

  “Herb Garrett thinks it’s one of those golf course homeowners. One of the realtors told him prices are already beginning to reflect a change. And why do you suppose those mealy-mouthed board members who supported Sorrel’s idea are being so tight-lipped about the vote? Because they don’t want to end up face down somewhere with an arrow pierced through them.”

  “I still think Sorrel must’ve been fooling around with someone’s husband, and that’s what got her killed,” Cecilia said. “Wedding vows are meant to be taken seriously.”

  I took another bite of my bagel and let the conversation drift over me. Now it was Lucinda who spoke.

  “We’ve been through that already. How many women do you know who have archery skills like that?”

  Eleanor Landrow does. Do I dare open my mouth and unleash that dragon?

  Louise reached for the creamer and stared at Cecilia. “Lucinda’s right, unless they hired a professional assassin.”

  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. My voice got so loud I was afraid other tables would hear me. “Professional assassins, as far as I know, would most likely use a gun or something more conventional. Listen, why don’t you all calm down and give the sheriff’s department time to solve this? The good news is how wonderful Myrna’s team did at the tournament. I never got a chance to really congratulate you, Myrna. Great job!”

  Myna beamed and thanked me. “I appreciate that. I really do. It was nerve-wracking. Now we can all look forward to the awards banquet. Tickets are twelve dollars, and I’ll be selling them starting next week. The twelve dollars includes nonalcoholic drinks, too.”

  I smiled and didn’t say a word. I’d be stuck. I knew it. I’d have to buy a ticket. Two maybe, if Marshall was also a glutton for punishment. At least the banquet was a month away. I prayed Sorrel’s killer would be apprehended by then. I went back to my bagel when Riva decided to open her mouth.

  “By the way, that board vote is coming up pretty quick and it’s got ‘ugly little scene’ written all over it. Of course, once it’s done, it’s done. Sorrel was the real ringleader for that move, and, with her gone, I’m hoping the whole thing will simply fade away. The killer must be thinking the same thing or they would be going after the supporters.”

  Oh no! How’d we wind up back to the killer again?

  I panicked. “Um, when is that vote? What’s the date? I’m sure everyone will want to mark it on their calendars.”

  The women immediately started rummaging through their bags as I closed my eyes and sighed. Lucinda spouted off the date and time while I excused myself to head to the restroom. As I walked past the cash registers, one of the customers caught my eye. If he hadn’t been wearing a light blue polo shirt that said GOLFSCAPES, I might not have been able to place him. But I did. He was the maintenance director who’d given the report at the first board meeting. Also, he was the same man who, according to Myrna, was measuring for the new fence when she thought he had other, more nefarious intentions.

  I laughed to myself as the guy paid his bill and kept walking. No sooner had I returned to my seat when Myrna stood up suddenly and collided with the waitress who was standing behind her, causing the poor woman to stumble and dump an entire carafe of creamer all over me. Myrna was beside herself, but all I could think of was that Bill was right. Myrna really was clumsy.

  “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! Here—take a napkin.”

  The waitress also offered me some napkins, but my shirt was way beyond that.

  “I’ve got a sweatshirt in the back of my car. I’ll grab it and do a quick change in the ladies’ room. Then, I’d better get going.”

  I handed my mother some cash and told her to pay my bill and leave the rest for a tip.

  “Sure you don’t want to come back for a few more minutes?”

  “Nah, that’s okay. I really do need to get going.” Then, I turned to the others. “It was nice seeing all of you again.”

  I raced to the car and opened the hatchback to grab an old sweatshirt I kept there in case the weather turned cold or the AC in a restaurant was set way too high. As I leaned in, I saw the Golfscapes maintenance guy talking to another man. An older one. They were one car away from me, but their voices carried.

  “Are you sure she’s the only one we’ve got to worry about?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Bloody hell. Had I known they were going to replace me with that Sorrel Harlan, I never would’ve resigned.”

  Oh my gosh, it’s Edmund Wooster.

  “And you’re absolutely certain the only obstacle we have is Eloise Frable?”

  “Uh-huh. I pulled that bit of info out of Milquist the other day when I went to his house to offer my condolences. He said Eloise is as adamant as Sorrel was regarding the eco-friendly park idea. On the surface, the lady’s keeping a low profile, but she’s been making lots of phone calls to drum up support.”

  “I can’t afford to let that happen. Actually, we can’t afford to let it happen.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “We need to get Eloise out of the way.”

  I didn’t know how long I could remain bent over in my car’s hatchback, but I didn’t have a choice. Worst case scenario, I’d find a good chiropractor. So, I held still and listened. The older guy kept clearing his throat. I was getting impatient.

  “I’
m not comfortable with this, Brent. You know that.”

  “Then you’d better get used to living on the poverty line. If those golf courses go down, it’ll be a domino effect. First Sun City West, then the other Sun Cities, then Westbrook Village and all the courses we manage from one side of the valley to the other. Golfscapes will go bankrupt, and so will we.”

  “Another murder? Eloise isn’t Sorrel, and she’s not going to roam around the golf course like a prime target.”

  “But she does live alone. Believe me, I’ve done my homework on those board members. Home invasions aren’t that uncommon.”

  My hands were shaking and my back was starting to seize up. Whoever this Brent guy was, he was Sorrel’s killer. And his accomplice was Edmund Wooster. My God! The motive was right in front of us. Only we never matched it up to Golfscapes. All those lucrative jobs would be lost, and Brent wasn’t about to let that happen. I was breathing harder now, and I was too scared to make a move.

  Please don’t let them see me.

  The pain in my back shot through me, and I had no choice. I slammed the hatchback closed and jumped into the car, making sure I pushed the lock button before starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. As I reached the end of the driveway, I glanced in my rearview mirror. Brent was writing something down and I had the unsettling feeling it was my license number.

  Chapter 31

  My first instinct was to find Eloise’s address and warn her. But the last thing I needed was another uncomfortable encounter with Nate and Marshall about the risks I was taking. And I certainly wasn’t about to drive to the sheriff ’s posse station and tell them. I’d be stuck completing forms while Eloise’s life was on the line.

  Instead, I headed in the direction of Sun City West and pulled into the nearest convenience store/gas station. My fingers moved automatically as I dialed Marshall’s number. Damn it! Voice mail. I left a quick message and dialed Nate next. Same thing. Voice mail. I left him a message, too. Finally, I made one last call (also voice mail) before doing a quick white pages’ phonebook search for Eloise’s address and typing it into my GPS.