Murder at the Pool Party

by Sandi Scott

  “This is a real treat.” Aleta smiled at the lovely mixture and took a sip. Before she could say another word Beth had thrown some cheese and crackers on a plate and presented it on a wooden cutting board.

  “You certainly didn’t have to go through all this for us.” Georgie said.

  “Please. I love entertaining. I’d feel terrible if I drank this entire pitcher and ate all this cheese myself.”

  The ladies didn’t talk about the issue with Sean or the business being split up. Instead, Aleta took the lead speaking about her son and daughter as well as Georgie’s three children.

  “It was almost like I had five kids since we were always together. My daughter and Georgie’s daughter were the best of friends and are still very close.”

  “Our boys were always getting the girls to go on some adventure or enterprise with them.” Georgie added. “It usually resulted in skinned knees and dirty clothes.”

  “But they were good kids.” Aleta patted her sister’s arm.

  “They knew if I wasn’t around Aunt Aleta would throw the hammer down just like I would.” Georgie said while flipping through the cards. She stopped on the name Maren Ingrid seeing the vegetarian notation on her tag. As she continued to flip through the cards, smiling and chuckling at the stories about their kids that Aleta was retelling, she saw something that instantly burrowed into her mind. Beth’s nametag also listed her as a vegetarian.

  “Oh!” Georgie shouted out without really thinking. Aleta and Beth stared at her. “I’m sorry. I saw a redheaded woodpecker outside.” She pointed toward the window. “I’m a bit of a bird-watching fanatic.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really?” Aleta whispered under her breath to Georgie.

  “Would you mind if I walked your grounds for a few minutes. I’d love to catch a glimpse of him again if possible.”

  “Absolutely. Be my guest.” Beth smiled. “I have birdfeeders scattered all over the property. I love having the wildlife skittering back and forth. Sometimes its better than television.”

  “I’ll be back in a moment. Mind if I take my drink?”

  “Not at all. Just make sure you come back for a refill.” Beth winked.

  Georgie went to the sliding doors that were down the hallway in the main dining area where everyone had been eating at the party.

  With renewed energy Georgie slipped outside and wove her way past the pool through the beautifully landscaped back yard. It wasn’t actually a yard. It was several acres but Georgie didn’t have to go very far to find what she was looking for.

  “I knew it.” Scattered abundantly throughout the property were lush, green bushes with dark purple, nearly black berries cascading down in elegant but deadly bundles. “Belladonna.” Georgie said to herself as she walked up to the nearest bush and studied it. Could she possibly see where berries had been picked? “It could be from animals. Birds. Picked berries don’t necessarily mean anything. But still....” she squinted carefully. She looked over every branch, leaf and berry and although she did see a few places where the little purple orbs were missing she couldn’t prove anything.

  “Ouch!” Georgie had backed up a couple paces right into a crimson pigmy barberry. “Thorny little devil! Let go!” She tried to pull away but hundreds of razor sharp thorns that covered the bush would not release the fabric so easily.

  After twisting and turning as if she were fighting off a swarm of bees in slow-motion Georgie finally broke free.

  “Rotten weeds. Look what you did to my shirt. What’s this?” She started to scold the plant but a piece of white fabric covered with some strange hair caught her eye. It was no bigger than the top of a thumbtack but it didn’t belong there. “I don’t know what you are but you’re coming with me.” She carefully picked the fabric from the thorns and hurried back inside.

  “Did you see him?” Aleta asked.

  “Who?”

  “The red-headed woodpecker?”

  “I sure did,” Georgie announced triumphantly, “and I also caught a glimpse of an umm... long-necked loon.”

  “Were there mirrors out there?”

  “Very funny.” Georgie scolded before turning to Beth. “I don’t know how you keep up with the landscaping. It’s so beautiful and peaceful out there.”

  “It is. But if you think this is nice you’ll have to come for my annual winter bonfire. It’s not really a bonfire. I have a tiny fire pit out there but I have the fireplace on for all of us civilized people. I always pray we get a couple inches of snow for that. Everything looks so smooth and calm. The red cardinals come in droves. You’d love it.”

  “Pencil us in.” Georgie said. “I’m afraid we are going to have to get going. Aleta, maybe you should use the bathroom before we drive home. You know, your condition.” Georgie raised her eyebrows at her sister and then lowered her eyes to Aleta’s backside. “Like you said, Beth. It can be tough getting old.”

  Before Aleta had a chance to protest Beth quickly stepped in.

  “Sure. Let me show you where it is.”

  Aleta glared at her sister then proceeded to follow Beth down a different hallway off the kitchen that led to the bathroom.

  Within minutes they were in Aleta’s Mercedes heading back home.

  “So what was the big hurry? Did you find something in the garden?”

  “I’m not sure yet. There were belladonna plants back there. Lots of them. And then I found this.” She reached into her pocket and unfolded her hanky to reveal the hairy piece of cloth.

  “What is that?” Aleta asked.

  “It might be nothing. But my gut said to snag it. It was out of place.”

  “So what are you going to do with it?”

  “Take it to Stan.” Georgie said cheerfully.

  Aleta didn’t respond.

  “What? What is that eye-roll for?”

  “I didn’t roll my eyes. I just raised my eyebrows.”

  “What for?” Georgie asked.

  “Has Stan called you since the other night?”

  “No. But that was the whole problem. He never calls, especially when he decides to come over.”

  “I’m worried.” Aleta said nervously.

  “About Stan?”

  “Yes and about you, too. What if he decides he’s had enough and goes his own separate way?”

  “Because I yelled at him? I yelled at him more when we were happily married. I didn’t yell at him at all when he took off, Aleta. He’s gotten a better deal than he deserves.”

  “So you’re saying Stan knows it’s your way of showing affection when you yell at him.”

  “Something like that.”

  “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Georgie. I’m just trying to brace you for a possible fall.”

  “I appreciate that, Aleta. I just think Stan can hack it. He’s got thick skin and an even thicker head. He’s probably forgotten all about that conversation already.”

  Georgie thought her words sounded confident. She looked out the window and tried to ignore the twinge of guilt that had plucked at her heart.

  Chapter 14

  “I’ll look at it when I get a chance.” Stan said the next day when Georgie stopped by the precinct.

  “What do you mean when you get a chance?”

  “Exactly what I said. Look Georgie, this is not the only homicide on my desk.” Stan looked at her the way he used to when he had to work for a holiday or one of the kid’s birthdays. It was a sexy sorry but that’s the way it’s got to be look.

  “But I think it might be something important.” She muttered, unsure how to react to Stan telling her no.

  “Like I said, Georgie. I’ll get to it when I get a chance. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to meet with the Chief in about three minutes.”

  “About what?” Georgie asked absently. She didn’t really care what Stan and the Chief were going to talk about. It made no difference to her. The strange hairy thing she’d found on the belladonna bush was the only thing she was interested in and Stan wa
s preventing her from learning anything more about it.

  “What do you mean about what? Police work. The status of my cases. Same stuff I always talk to him about.”

  “Well, you sound like you’ll be busy for a while.” Georgie pinched her lips together. She had been sitting in one of the seats in front of his desk. But like a cat being snapped out of a nap she stood, reached over his desk and snatched the baggie with the hairy cloth out of his hand.

  “What are you doing with that? I told you I’d have it analyzed when I got a chance.” He reached to get it back, but Georgie pulled it away.

  “Nope. That’s okay.” She stuffed it in her purse. “I shouldn’t have thought you’d just drop everything. You know, I think I know someone who can probably help. Sorry to bother you, Stan. Good luck in your meeting.”

  Before Stan could get out from behind his desk Georgie had flung his office door open and stomped out. Once she was out on the sidewalk she felt the tears burn her eyes. Crying was the last thing she expected to do. She’d cried quite a bit over Stan in their life together. She cried when he left, of course. She cried when he signed the divorce papers. She cried when the kids asked about him. She cried when he said he was coming home and she cried when he came to see her, his first stop when he finally got back to town. He looked worn out but not defeated. That was the thing about Stan. He took all his plans in stride. Some of them worked. Some didn’t. Sometimes he was the hero. Sometimes the villain. But right now, Georgie thought he was the villain being strong on her because he knew he could.

  With speed she didn’t know she possessed at her age she hurried down the street away from the precinct. With her anger fueling her thoughts she realized she didn’t need Stan. She could find someone who could tell her what that hairy piece of fabric was.

  But had she turned around she would have seen Stan rush out of the precinct and she might have even caught a glimpse of the single tear in his eye.

  “WHY AREN’T YOU TAKING this to Stan?” Aleta asked when Georgie told her they were taking a quick trip.

  “He’s busy. This isn’t his only homicide, you know.” She didn’t look at Aleta but instead busied herself shuffling things around in her purse. “So, are you coming?”

  “Yes. Of course I am. Someone has to provide bail money.” Aleta didn’t pry but her gut told her Stan reacted to Georgie the way she had predicted. Even though Georgie had told him more than once not to just pop in he wouldn’t listen. Now, he was upset with her for telling him not to just pop over to her house whenever he felt like it. Some people might say she could have been nicer. But some people didn’t know Georgie or what she went through when Stan left.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To see Van Martin.” Georgie said.

  “The dog groomer. Why?”

  “I think he might be able to tell me what this stuff is.” She pulled out the plastic bag she had transferred the cloth and hairs to. “I don’t think it’s from a deer because of the color.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I’ve got brains I haven’t even used yet.” Georgie winked as they climbed into Pablo, her orange Volkwagen.

  Van Martin’s Salon for Dogs was as posh as any day spa for the ladies of the neighborhood. There were pictures of some of his regular “clients”, and silver bowls with fresh water strategically placed along the walls; conveniently out of the way of Van and his three-man staff. There were also a variety of shampoos and skin conditioners displayed on shelves. No pet grooming facility was complete without a steady supply of doggie-doo-doo bags strategically placed next to a crystal bowl of healthy treats Van made himself out of pumpkin and oats.

  “Didn’t Bodhi snap at him the one time you brought him in?”

  “Yes,” Georgie wrinkled her nose. “Bodhi is a manly dog. This primping isn’t for him. He likes to roughhouse. The only use he has for fluffy satin cushions is to tear them with his teeth to make sure there is stuffing on the inside.”

  “Did Bodhi hurt him?”

  “I think, well, Van didn’t expect the bite of my flat-nosed friend to be as hard as it was. But the bruise was gone in about two weeks.”

  “Are you sure he’s going to want to help?”

  “Oh, yes. We actually refer customers to each other. All the high maintenance pets I do portraits of I refer to Van. If he’s got someone who he thinks might like a portrait he sends them my way.”

  “That’s convenient.”

  “It certainly smoothed over Bodhi’s attack.”

  When they walked in the salon a jingle of bells went off and every dog there let out a bark.

  “Hello, Georgie!” Van shouted from the back of the store. “Is Bodhi with you?”

  “No, the coast is clear. My little man is at home dreaming about chasing cats and the pet groomer.”

  Van let out a deep laugh. He was about six and a half feet tall with the body of a linebacker for the Chicago Bears. His tan arms were covered with tattoos. He wore dark pants and a plain white t-shirt, while there were expensive gym shoes on his feet.

  “Lucky for me.” He approached and gave Georgie a gentle squeeze.

  “This is my sister Aleta.”

  “Hi, Van. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Welcome to my salon. Can I get you guys a cucumber water or should we get right down to business? Tell me, what can I do for you?”

  “Maybe nothing, Van. But I was hoping you might be able to identify this.”

  Georgie pulled the plastic baggie out of her purse and handed it to Van.

  Van wore bright, unnaturally blue contact lenses. He focused on the clump of hair and fabric, squinting, studying. He pulled the bag open and pinched the fibers between his fingers.

  “I’ve felt this before.” He rubbed it between his fingers. “Now, I can’t be sure exactly but this is either the hair of a French poodle, maybe a Bichon Frise or it could very well be a Bedlington Terrier.”

  “You’re sure it could be a Bedlington Terrier?” Georgie’s voice was quiet.

  “There is a good possibility that it is. Does this help you at all?”

  “You have no idea, Van.” Georgie took the baggie and held it open for Van to drop the hairs back into the bag. “You know, I’m experimenting on matchbook size paintings for some of my clients. You know, like in the Renaissance, there were small works of art matted in larger ornately designed frames. Why don’t you let me do a freebie for you and Maxwell. On the house, frame and all.”

  “I would love that. I’ll take you up on it. Let me check Maxwell’s schedule and I’ll give you a call.”

  “Sounds good, Van. Have a great day. We’ll talk soon.”

  “Who is Maxwell?” Aleta asked once they were back in Pablo.

  “Maxwell is Van’s very pampered bloodhound. He’s as big as Van is but as docile as can be. I never did a portrait of him before. If Van liked it he might hang it in the salon. Free publicity. But, the least I can do. Where is it?”

  “What are you looking for? Did you lose your keys?”

  “My phone. I need to talk to Beth right away.”

  “Why?”

  “Sean, her partner, the guy who is putting up a big fight about the splitting of the business, he has Bedlington Terriers. He told me when we first met at the pool party.”

  “I don’t follow?”

  “This swatch of hair and cloth was found on the belladonna at the back of the yard. Belladonna was what killed Maren, the only other female getting the vegetarian meal.”

  “You’ve lost me, Georgie.” Aleta shook her head.

  Taking a deep breath Georgie explained to Aleta her hunch that Sean was more than just a little upset over the split. If it went Beth’s way, he would not only be cut out of all the decision making, but he would lose a significant amount of money. Fighting it would require spending more money. He was the one who slipped the belladonna into the special vegetarian dish.

  “But why kill Maren? She wasn’t involved in anything but some really scr
ewy relationships.”

  “Don’t you see? He didn’t mean to poison Maren. He meant to poison Beth. The vegetarian plates got mixed up somehow. Maren ate the deadly berries, not Beth. And now, Sean is panicking.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw him when I delivered the banana bread to Beth. He looked like he’d been run over by a bus. Now it makes sense. He was terrified about the press the death was going to cause. He was freaking out and telling Beth they needed to close things down.”

  “But she wasn’t worried because to her it was just an accident.” Aleta’s eyes widened. “She doesn’t know Sean is out to get her.”

  Georgie nodded and smacked her sister on the knee. “Yup!”

  “So what are you looking for?”

  “My phone.” She clenched her teeth and growled. “I must have left it at home. Do you have yours?”

  “The only person who calls me is you.” Aleta shrugged her shoulders.

  “Okay, I’m going to drop you off at home. Do me a favor.”

  “Good gravy, what?”

  “Call Stan. Tell him all this and tell him that I’m going to go to Beth’s place and keep her company until he arrives.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to call him.”

  “I’d like nothing more but my pride is putting its foot down. Besides, I don’t want to risk him not answering just because it’s me. He’ll answer if it is you.”

  Aleta agreed and as soon as Georgie watched her walk into her bungalow she sped off in the direction of Winnetka.

  Murphy’s Law dictates that when it might be a life or death situation there will be traffic on the highway. One car plowed into the back of another car pushing it into the back of another car. The traffic was backed up for at least a mile, maybe two. Georgie wasn’t close enough to an off-ramp to take the side streets around the trouble so she had to wait.

  As she did she wondered why she didn’t run into her own house and grab her phone. If Aleta got a hold of Stan she could warn him about the traffic. He could find another route.