Assisted Murder (A Moose River Mystery Book 6)

by Jeff Shelby

  “Can we jump in the pool?” Sophie asked. “I'm hot and I don't want a shower.”

  “It’s kind of late,” I said, glancing at my phone.

  “Me, too,” Grace said, her arms wrapped around Sophie's waist. “I’m hot, too.”

  “Fine,” I said. “A quick dip. Go inside and change. Emily will keep an eye on you until we get out there.”

  Emily frowned. “I need to Skype with Andy.”

  “Why? You've been talking to him all day,” Will said.

  “You can,” I told her. “After we get out there.”

  She sighed and trudged behind her brother into the house.

  “They really are lovely kids,” Gloria said.

  “Most of the time,” Jake said, coming around the front of the car. “You should see them when they get hungry.”

  “Oh, I'm sure you're exaggerating,” she said. “And speaking of food, I was hoping I could ask a favor.”

  “Of course,” he said. “You name it.”

  “The day of Mom's party, could I ask you to pick up the cake?” she asked. “I ordered it from Publix which is close by. I just know I'm going to be busy and I don't want to forget it.”

  “Absolutely,” Jake said. “We'll grab it. Did you happen to hear from Mom or Dad today?”

  Gloria made a clucking noise. “Oh, dear. I guess I should have mentioned that. I don’t know how to tell you this, but—”

  “We know,” I said. “She called us this afternoon.”

  A look of relief crossed Gloria’s face. “Oh, good. I mean, it’s not good what has happened. It’s terrible, really. I just feel so bad about not mentioning it to you. With everything that's been going on, I'm just trying to get through this week.” She sighed and I thought I saw a tear form in her eye.

  “Are you alright?” I asked, putting a hand on her arm.

  She pursed her lips for a moment, hesitating. “No, I guess I'm not. I'm a little...worried.”

  “Why?”

  She looked at Jake first, then me. “Everything sort of went to pieces today, I'm afraid.”

  “What do you mean?” Jake said.

  She leaned against her Beetle. “It felt like an avalanche. First, that dumb detective came to see me again.”

  “What?” My tone was sharp. “What did he want? Did he have any more information about Agnes? The cause of death?”

  “He didn’t say. But he clearly doesn't believe my story. And he said that even though I was with you at the airport, the time of Agnes's death was before that, so I don't have an alibi.”

  “They have time of death?” I asked. “But no cause?”

  “He didn’t say,” she repeated. “All he told me was that the medical exam person put the time of death earlier, when I would have been home. Before I left for the airport. I was home all morning alone before I came to pick you up, so I don’t have anyone to vouch for me. Plus, there was no sign of a break-in because I never lock my doors. No one does here. So there's no sign that anyone brought her to my house. He knew all about all of the arguments she and I had. He very clearly thinks I did it. And I'm not sure I can prove I didn't.”

  “So they are treating this as a homicide?”

  She nodded. “It sure looks that way.”

  I was itching to know what the ME had found out. Detective Grimmis clearly had information he was withholding, which was understandable, but it didn’t keep me from wanting access to all the information he was privy to.

  I offered a reassuring smile to Gloria. I felt badly for her. I'd been in her exact same position, when all of the so-called ‘evidence’ seemingly pointed at me, no matter how untrue I knew it to be. It was frustrating and scary.

  “Don't jump the gun,” I told her. “Just because you can't show you didn't do it doesn't mean that you did. If the forensics people did their job, they should be able to find other evidence. Where she was actually killed, footprints on the property that didn't belong to you, other people who had motive. Things like that. And all of that hinges on if they are treating it as a homicide. Let’s remember that.”

  She tried to smile, but I could tell she didn't believe me. “I hope you're right. I'm told the Apple Lake board is also considering asking me to leave the community.”

  “Can they do that?” Jake asked. “Don't you own your home?”

  “I do own my home, but they can do that,” she said. “They did it with Vivian Kettlebaum, remember? Ownership is subject to approval. If the board petitions you to exit the community, they will arrange for the sale of your house.”

  I made a mental note to check out all of the rules before Jake and I ever moved into a retirement community.

  “But they haven't formally asked you yet, right?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, not yet. I just heard that it's being considered. They are probably waiting to see what happens. If I'm charged, I'm sure they will start the process.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “And there's one more thing.”

  “What's that?” Jake asked.

  She bit her bottom lip. “The GG's want me to take a leave of absence.”

  “Oh, gosh,” I said, unsure of what else to tell her. “I'm sorry.”

  “I told them I'd consider it after Mom's party,” she said, tearing up again. “But they wouldn't even be playing that party if it weren't for me. They are worried, though, about all of the negative attention this might bring them. Plus, the whole fight last night spooked everyone.”

  It was hard to argue any of that. And it was also hard to argue that it should really be a concern for her, given the other things she was now facing. But I understood that the band meant a lot to her, and it had to hurt to have heard that from her bandmates.

  “I'm sorry,” I said again. “What can we do?”

  She wiped at her eyes and pushed herself off of the car. “Nothing. I'm just whining because I feel sorry for myself. I didn't mean to come cry on your shoulder.”

  “It's okay, Aunt Gloria,” Jake said. “You aren't whining.”

  She laughed. “I am and we all know it, but thank you for saying that. I am going to head home, though, and let you all go spend some time with your kids.”

  I didn’t want to tell her that we’d spent all day with the kids and that Jake and I were looking forward to collapsing in bed. “You're welcome to come in,” I said. “Stay for a while. We have ice cream in the freezer.”

  “Thank you, but I'll pass,” she said. “I'm exhausted and I think I just need a good night's sleep.”

  She got into her car and backed out of the driveway. Jake and I stood there, watching as her tail lights disappeared from view. A chorus of crickets filled the silence, along with the distant rumbling of a truck on the county highway just outside of the community.

  “I feel bad for her,” I said.

  He slipped his arm around me. “Me, too.”

  “We need to help her.”

  “How?” he asked.

  I pulled him toward the house, worried that Emily's attention span was about up and the girls would be unsupervised in the pool. “I'm not sure, but I'll think of something.”

  SEVENTEEN

  I tried to think of something, but failed miserably.

  We went into the house and I sat outside with the two younger girls while Jake showered. Will was already in his room, parked in front of his computer for a quick game with friends. Emily exited the pool area as soon as I showed up, mumbling something about Andy and how he was on his way home from work. I gave the girls a five-minute warning and while they played and splashed in the pool, I brainstormed ways to help Gloria.

  And came up empty.

  She hadn't been formally charged with anything, so I wasn't sure a lawyer would do her any good. She could hire one in case things went in that direction, but I didn't think they'd be able to do much for her before she was officially charged with anything related to Agnes's death.

  I also didn't think the Apple Lake board would listen to family members advocating on her
behalf to stay. If they were like HOA boards I'd dealt with in the past, they had their own agenda, and common sense rarely played into their decision-making. The only thing she could fall back on would be to fight it if they tried to get her out before she was charged with anything.

  The band was a different animal, but I didn't see any way we could intervene there, either. They were going to make decisions no matter what happened. They’d done that before Agnes died. They could do what they wanted. What went on with any investigation was almost irrelevant to what they did. If they wanted Gloria out, she was going to be tossed out of The GG's.

  I wrestled with all three things overnight, unable to sleep, and by the time the sun shone through the window at the crack of dawn, I knew I just needed to get out of bed and start my day.

  Which meant I woke Jake up so we could take another walk to discuss my issues.

  The community was fairly quiet in the early morning hours. There were a few early birds out walking or watering their plants, but there were no cars leaving for morning commutes and no kids hustling off to school busses.

  Jake scratched at his unkempt hair as we walked in the morning sunshine. “What exactly are you asking for from me?”

  “I'm not asking anything,” I told him. “I'm thinking out loud.”

  He frowned. “You couldn't have done that in bed?”

  “I did that. All night. Didn't work.”

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Okay, so maybe I didn’t think out loud. But I thought. All night.”

  “So I'm suffering now because...?”

  “You love me,” I told him. “That's why.”

  He sighed. “That is true. Alright.” He yawned. “My legs hurt. I'm stiff from walking at the park all day.”

  “You're old.”

  “Which means I will fit right in down here.”

  “Eventually, yes,” I said. “And I will hope that we don't have to come down here and visit your aunt in jail.” I was the first one to tell Gloria that she hadn’t been accused or charged with any crimes, but it was still the first place my own mind went. I couldn’t help it.

  We turned the corner out of our cul-de-sac. A moving van came into view, parked in front of a house with a Sold sign out front. Two men were wrestling a floral sofa in through the front door and an older man stood on the sidewalk, his hands parked on his hips as he watched them. He noticed us and offered a half-wave in greeting. We waved back.

  “I think everyone's getting ahead of themselves,” Jake said.

  “Why?”

  “She hasn't been arrested.”

  “I know. But it looks like the investigation might be headed that way.”

  He continued. “She hasn't been asked to move. And she hasn't been kicked out of her awful band.” He shrugged as we walked. “There isn't anything to do until there's something to do.”

  Again with the logic and reasoning. He was utterly maddening at times.

  “I mean, I know you want to help her,” he continued. “And that's great. I'm happy to help, too. But so far? There's literally nothing to help with. Except picking up the cake.”

  “Are you some sort of robot?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “Yes. Like that maid on The Jetsons. Rosie.”

  “But you don't cook or clean.”

  “You won't let me.”

  “Because you don't do it right.”

  He grinned. “Which might just be part of my genius.”

  I shook my head, but laughed. “Fine. I will attempt to not worry about your aunt. For the next hour or so.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  We were a block from Gloria's house at that point and I was ready to turn back around and make breakfast and get the kids up and plan our day.

  But then we saw someone.

  He was older and definitely male. He had on a flower-print shirt and linen walking shorts, his shoes in his hand. He was descending Gloria's driveway.

  He looked in our direction and froze.

  Irv Finkleman and his super awful comb-over was staring right at us.

  EIGHTEEN

  I'm not sure who felt more awkward – us or him.

  His shirt was only buttoned halfway up and he'd missed one at the bottom. The fly on his shorts was unzipped and his comb-over was no longer combed over.

  He stood straight. “Oh. Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” I said.

  We stood there for a moment.

  A bird chirped in the distance. A lawnmower roared to life, the grounds crew starting their morning work.

  “We were just out for a walk,” I blurted out.

  He looked up at the sky, like he was just noticing the sun. “Ah, yes. It's very nice this morning.”

  The bird chirped again. A weed whacker responded with a whirring noise.

  “I…uh...well,” he stuttered.

  We stood there.

  He finally let out a massive sigh and held his hands up. “Alright. You caught me. I spent the night at Gloria's.”

  “You don't owe us an explanation,” I said quickly. “Really.”

  “Dear god, I don't want one,” Jake whispered.

  “She called me last night.” He continued talking as if he hadn't heard me. “She was feeling down. So I came over and one thing led to another and well...there you go.”

  “I'm gonna vomit,” Jake whispered under his breath. “Right here. In the street.”

  “It's not the first time,” Irv said, running a hand through his wild nest of hair. “We've had a thing going for a while now.”

  “Oh,” I said. I already knew this, courtesy of Grandma Billie, but I felt like I should pretend that this was the first I’d heard of their “thing.” “Oh, I see. Okay. Well...good.”

  “We both had sort of a rough day yesterday,” he said. “She tell you about it?”

  “Well, she told us about her day, yes,” I said. “She told us that.”

  “We had sort of parallel experiences, I guess you might call it,” Irv explained. “The police came to talk to me, too.”

  My ears perked up. “They did? Why?”

  He ran his hand through the crazy hair again. “Because of my…former relationship with Agnes.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” I said, nodding. “The hammer.”

  Irv smiled sheepishly. “Yes, the hammer. But she liked me before she threw that hammer at my head. Was a few months back, I think. We went out to Red Lobster one night, one of those all-you-can-eat shrimp nights. Gave me some pretty bad gas the next day. But right after we ate, we went back to her place for some wine and things just…went a little crazy after that.” He chuckled. “Agnes, she was a bit of a wild one.”

  “Oh,” I said. This was not what my ears had perked up for. “Okay.”

  “We were a little hot and heavy for a while,” he said. “Pretty much every night.”

  “I just threw up in my mouth,” Jake whispered.

  I shot him a look.

  “And then, well. Things just sort of went off the rails,” Irv said.

  “The hammer?”

  “Yes. The hammer.”

  “Did you file a report?” I asked. “Press charges?”

  “Goodness, no.” Irv looked alarmed at the thought. “I mean, sometimes things just happen. Hard to say why they happen, but they do. We don't always have explanations for our actions, if you know what I'm saying. Things just sometimes happen.”

  I nodded, but I truly had no idea what he was talking about. If someone threw a hammer at my head, I didn’t think I’d be taking it quite as well as Irv apparently had.

  “So they knew I had a connection to her,” Irv said. “I hadn't seen her in a couple days. But that detective fella, he seems mighty sure that I might've had something to do with what happened to poor old Agnes.” He shook his head. “Me and her, we ended in a pretty bad place — you know, with the hammer and all – but I never would've hurt her. Never.”

  He seemed sincere in what he was saying. A
nd from what little I'd seen of him, he certainly didn't seem capable of murder. But who really did? I didn't know Irv any better than anyone else we'd met in Florida, so who knew what he was capable of? And who knew if Agnes had even been murdered? Although, by the sound of the conversations Gloria and Irv had both had with Detective Grimmis, it certainly appeared this was the conclusion the ME had come to.

  “Can you think of anyone who might've wanted to hurt her?” I asked.

  He thought again for another moment, then shrugged. “Well, I mean, there were plenty of folks around here who didn't get along with her. She wasn't the most liked person, that's for sure. But hurt her?” He shook his head. “Can't say that I can really think of anyone who might go that far.”

  That was maybe the most perplexing thing. It was one thing to have lots of people not like you or not get along with you. But it was another for someone to dislike you so much that they killed you and left you for dead.

  Irv glanced at his wrist. Despite the fact that he wasn't wearing a watch, he said, “Well, I need to get going. I'm sorry to have surprised you like this.” He nodded at us, which made his hair flop like a bird wing. “Have a good day.”

  He crossed the street and got into a blue Trans-Am parked at the curb. The engine rumbled to life, then pulled away from the curb. We watched as the car turned the corner at the end of the street and disappeared.

  “I need you to do me a favor,” Jake said, turning around and heading back toward our house.

  “What's that?”

  “When we get back to the house, can you check the garage for bleach?”

  “Bleach?”

  He nodded.

  “Uh, sure. I can check. But why?”

  “Because I'm going to pour it in my ears,” he said. “In the hope that I can get Irv Finkleman's words out of my brain.”

  NINETEEN

  I didn't get a chance to hunt for bleach because a guest was waiting outside of the rental when we walked back.

  Detective Grimmis.

  He was standing in the driveway with his hands on his hips. He had on a pale yellow, short-sleeve button down paired with very uncomfortable-looking brown polyester slacks. His face was pink and his mustache looked freshly waxed. A bit of a perplexed expression was on his face, but it disappeared when he saw us coming up the street.