Assisted Murder (A Moose River Mystery Book 6)

by Jeff Shelby

  He held up a hand in greeting. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” Jake said. “Can we help you?”

  He pointed back at the house. “I knocked on the door. I heard some yelling, but no one answered.”

  “The kids are home,” I told him. “But they don't answer the door if we aren't there.”

  He smiled and the tips of his mustache wiggled. “Good strategy. Never know who might be on the other side.”

  Like, say, a weird detective with a weird mustache.

  He cleared his throat. “I had a couple of follow-up questions for you. Related to Ms. Clutterbuck's death.”

  I nodded. “Alright.”

  He looked at Jake and waited for a moment.

  Jake stared back at him.

  “I just need to speak with your wife,” Grimmis said.

  “Okay,” Jake said.

  They both stood there.

  I appreciated Jake's need to protect me. It reminded me of the high school version of him. It was quaint and cute.

  But very unnecessary.

  “Why don't you go check on the kids?” I suggested. “I'll be inside in a few.”

  He was still giving Grimmis the hard stare. “You sure?” he asked me.

  “Yep,” I said. “Just give us a couple minutes.”

  He grunted before heading toward the house, pausing once or twice to look back over his shoulder.

  I waved at him.

  When I heard the door shut, I asked Grimmis, “Okay. How can I help you?”

  He pulled out his little notebook from his pocket and slipped the pen out from the metal spiral. He clicked the pen on with his thumb, then flipped through the pages until he found a clean sheet. “Can you go over for me how you came upon Ms. Clutterbuck?”

  I sighed. It felt repetitive to me, but I knew it was also good police work. Look for inconsistencies and make sure you have all of the details. So I recounted the story again about coming from the airport, stopping to see Grandma Billie, and then running into Gloria's house to get the key and finding Agnes's body.

  “Did you touch the victim at all?” he asked when I finished.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Not anywhere?”

  “No.” I didn’t even flick her nose, I thought, the image bringing a small smile to my lips.

  “You're positive?”

  “Yes. I work part-time for the local police department back home in Minnesota,” I reminded him. “I'm aware of how to treat a crime scene.”

  “I see,” he said, tapping the pen against his lips. “Did you bring any musical instruments into the home with you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did you bring anything into the home with you that might have been a musical instrument?”

  I still wasn't sure I understood the question. “Uh, no.”

  He kept his eyes on me. “You're positive?”

  “I didn't even bring an musical instrument with me from Minnesota,” I said.

  “Interesting,” he said, as he scribbled into his notebook.

  “Why are you asking about an instrument?”

  He was still scribbling. “No reason.”

  “No reason?”

  “Have you ever cleaned a musical instrument?”

  “Uh, no.”

  He eyed me closely. “No? Not ever?”

  “What are we talking about here, Detective? If you tell me what you're looking for, it would be easier.”

  His mustache twitched.

  “And if you've already established a time of death, then it probably precedes me even getting to Florida,” I said. “Which means I might be better able to help you if you tell me what you're getting at.”

  He thought about that for a moment, then flipped his notebook closed. “Off the record – and I'm only telling you this because I know you're fellow law enforcement – Ms. Clutterbuck was killed by a blow to the head.”

  So they were treating it as a homicide.

  “And it appears it might've been done with a cymbal.”

  My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “A…cymbal?”

  “A cymbal,” he confirmed. He frowned. “Please do not share that information with anyone.”

  I nodded. “I won't. Are…are you sure it was a cymbal? Not some other type of metal…weapon?”

  “As of right now, we are focusing on a cymbal as the potential murder weapon,” he said.

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure how a cymbal could be used to kill someone, but I wasn’t about to argue with him.

  He glanced at his watch. “Okay. I appreciate your patience. I just wanted to get a full report and double check. If you come upon anything else, please let me know.”

  “Will do.”

  “And mum's the word on the cymbal,” he said.

  “Mum?”

  We both spun around to face the door. Grace was standing there, looking sleepy-eyed in her princess pajamas.

  “Why is he calling you Mum?” she asked. “And what symbol is he talking about?”

  “Nothing, sweetie,” I told her. “We were talking about some…some symbols for Grandma Billie’s surprise birthday party. You know, since she’s turning one hundred.”

  “Oh.” Grace yawned. “But why did he call you Mum?”

  Detective Grimmis looked at me, waiting for my reply.

  “Uh, because he knows I always answer to mom,” I said. “And…and because he’s British.”

  Detective Grimmis was about as un-British as someone could be, but Grace either didn’t catch that or didn’t care. She just nodded and went back inside, and his gaze returned to me.

  “Mum,” he repeated, his lip disappearing under his mustache as he frowned at me.

  He didn’t have to say it twice.

  TWENTY

  “I appreciate you both meeting me here on short notice,” Esther Quiddle said to us. “Gloria said you'd be willing to help us out with the party.”

  “We are happy to help,” I told her, ignoring the expression on Jake’s face that was in direct opposition to my words.

  It was a couple of hours after my conversation with Detective Grimmis. I'd gone into the house when he left and, true to my word, stayed mum about the cymbal murder weapon, even to Jake. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have let me off with my murmur of “Everything is fine,” but he was on the phone with work and the kids were starving and the busyness of the morning just sort of took over. Thankfully, Grace didn’t question me anymore about British terminology or symbols for one-hundred-year-olds and their birthday parties, either. While I was cleaning up, Jake's phone rang again and this time, it was Esther Quiddle, the GG’s band manager. Gloria had passed along his number in case Esther needed help with the party, and she was hoping that we might have some time to meet with her to go over a few things. Jake tried to stutter his way out of it, but I'd grabbed his phone and told her we'd be happy to meet with her.

  After instructing the kids to stay out of the pool, we’d walked down to the clubhouse where Esther was waiting. She'd greeted us at the front door and walked us down a different hall to a small office at the back of the building. She sat down behind the desk and we crammed into the two chairs opposite her. Her perfume was once again threatening to render me unconscious.

  I smiled at Esther. “Can I ask why you are doing the party planning? I thought Gloria was throwing the party.”

  “She is,” Esther said. The thick gray stripe in her hair reminded me of a runway. “But I'm also the recreation director here at Apple Lake. It's my actual job.” Her smile flickered. “You know, since I just volunteer for The GG's and don't make any money for that endeavor.”

  “Right,” I said. There was something in her voice, a hint of irritation, and I couldn’t blame her. Sure, she was the recreation director, but I didn’t think her duties extended to planning private parties.

  “So since Gloria is renting the ballroom for the party, I'm responsible for a few things,” she said, her original smile returning. “B
ut I thought we might be able to go over the party agenda and a couple of other things, as well.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “The agenda? We really haven't been involved at all to this point. We just got here a couple of days ago.”

  Esther nodded. “Right. I think what Gloria is thinking is that it might be good to have some other family involved just in case things get...sticky.”

  “Sticky?” Jake asked. “Sticky how?”

  Esther cleared her throat and twisted the silver diamond in her right ear. “In case Gloria is unable to attend the party. For any reason.”

  “Why wouldn't she be there?” he asked.

  “Because of the whole murder thing?” Esther said, wrinkling her nose. “In case Gloria finds herself...incarcerated?”

  “They haven’t even declared it a homicide,” Jake said pointedly.

  I swallowed.

  Esther’s cheeks turned red. “Of course. I just meant…” She cleared her throat. “I just thought it might be best if we were prepared for the worst-case scenario.”

  Even though I was aware that Agnes’ death was being investigated as a homicide, I still thought it was absurd to think that Gloria would be in jail in the next few days. Sure, it was possible, but it seemed that once again, everyone was getting ahead of themselves. I could understand Esther wanting to be prepared for the worst, but would we still be holding a party if the birthday girl's daughter had just been arrested for murder? Maybe that was a question I should be asking Jake.

  “So,” Esther said, shuffling the papers on her desk. “I thought we could first go over what we have planned.”

  Jake looked at me, his expression dark. I could tell he was miffed by Esther’s comments. “Alright.”

  “Currently, we have over a hundred and fifty people who have RSVP'd,” Esther said.

  “Wow,” I said, shocked. “Really?”

  She nodded. “We've invited a large portion of the community. The entire Apple Lake board will be there. A few city officials.” She smiled, revealing a little lipstick on her teeth. “People are very excited for this. And for Billie.”

  I couldn't believe that the caustic old woman I'd been around the last few days had that many friends, but maybe I was just misjudging her. After all, she had shown us a few small glimpses of her sense of humor, and there had been moments when we’d questioned just how much of her demeanor was an act.

  “We're going to decorate her wheelchair, and Gloria says she's already purchased a special outfit for Billie to wear for the occasion,” Esther said. “So I'll hope that's true.”

  “Excuse me? Hope what’s true?” I asked. She didn’t respond right away, so I repeated the question. “Hope what’s true, Esther?”

  Esther spun the earring again. “Gloria…hasn't always come through on what she says she's going to do.”

  “With the party?” I asked. I could see how, especially with an event of that size. If I had 150 people attending a gathering, I’d be a little scatterbrained and overwhelmed, too, especially with everything else that was going on in her life.

  “No, not with the party,” she said, looking down at her papers. “Not yet, anyway. Just with…other things.”

  I looked at Jake. He shrugged, and I took comfort in the fact that he was just as clueless as I was.

  “We've ordered lights and decorations,” Esther continued. “I'll make sure those get put up in plenty of time. We're having a caterer bring in appetizers, cheeseburgers, alcohol, soda, water and a few other goodies.” She glanced at us. “My understanding is that you'll be getting the cake?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  She tapped her pen against the papers. “You might want to call and double-check that it's been ordered.”

  “Gloria told us it was,” I said. “We’ve already talked to her about it.”

  “Riiiight,” she said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Still, you might want to double-check on that. Just in case. Would be disappointing to not have a cake for Billie's birthday.”

  “Okay,” I said, more to appease her than anything else. “I'll call and make sure the order is ready to go.”

  “Great,” Esther said. She ran the pen down the sheet of paper in front of her, checking off items. “Next, the mayor will be here with the key. I've confirmed with his people and the key people. Local news is also sending a photographer and videographer.” Her pen stopped on her list. “And, of course, we have The GG's.”

  “That's right,” Jake said. “Gloria said they're playing the party.”

  Esther leaned back in her chair. “Yes. They are. Gloria insisted Billie would want that. I didn't really get Billie's input, as I assumed her daughter would know best. But, yes. They are scheduled to play the entire two-hour party. They've requested an extension cord and an extra power strip.” She frowned at the paper. “They have not asked to be paid. Yet.”

  Now I was very confused. “Why would Gloria ask to be paid to play her mother's birthday party?”

  Esther cleared her throat again. “Well, she hasn't. Yet. I'm just saying that it isn't surprising at all.”

  “I agree,” Jake said, an agitated edge to his voice. “It isn't surprising at all that my aunt is not asking for money to play at her mother's birthday. Why exactly would she?”

  Esther picked up on his tone and smiled nervously. “Well...I...I just mean that, normally, any band playing here would ask for some sort of stipend. Or they'd ask it from the party planners.”

  “So, what?” Jake said, still annoyed. “She'd ask herself to pay a stipend to herself? That doesn't make any sense. What are you talking about?”

  His irritation had ratcheted up several notches. Normally, he was the even keel in our relationship. But when his temper went, there was usually no stopping it. Esther was in danger of being on the wrong end of that temper.

  “I guess I just mean that it's an expense we don't have to worry about,” she stammered. “That's all I meant. Gloria really doesn't worry herself about money. Which, you know, I guess, is a very nice thing. For her.”

  Jake started to say something else, but I put my hand on his arm and said, “Great. The band payment is one less thing we have to worry about.”

  He glared at me, apparently determined to press her on whatever issue she had. I patted his arm and smiled at him. He grunted and looked away.

  “Okay, so we are getting the cake and it sounds like plans are in place for the food and the entertainment.” I thought about the other things she mentioned. “The mayor will be here, with a key, and some local news people are planning to be here, as well.” Esther nodded in agreement and I smiled. “So, what else can we do to help?”

  Esther glanced back down at her list. “I had a couple of other ideas, but I thought I'd run them by you to see what you thought.”

  I didn’t think we’d need anything else, especially if the band was planning to play the full time, but I decided to humor her. After all, she seemed like she needed to bounce some ideas off of us.

  “Alright,” I said.

  “Clowns?” she asked. “There are a couple of local clowns in town that we've had here and—”

  Jake paled. “No. No clowns.” His voice was shaky but firm. “At all.”

  The room was silent for a moment.

  “He's not terribly fond of clowns,” I finally said to Esther. “Let's skip the clowns.”

  She drew a line through something on her list. “Okay. Well, we also have a juggler who has regularly come to some of our events. He's very good and his prices are reasonable.”

  “Do we need a juggler?” Jake asked.

  “No, of course not,” Esther said. “I'm just looking at some extra entertainment for the guests. I also know of a unicyclist, a woman who is an absolute wizard with hula hoops, and another woman who orchestrates a cat circus.”

  “A cat circus?” I asked.

  “Yes, it's quite impressive,” Esther said. “She has them trained to do lots of fun stuff. She is, however, a little
pricey.”

  I didn't even know cat circuses were a thing.

  “Tell you what,” Jake said. His face had regained its color and his expression had returned to one of irritation. “I'll check with my grandmother on those things and see if she wants any of them. If she does, I'll let you know.”

  “Certainly,” Esther said quickly. She clearly noticed his clipped tone. “That will work just fine. I will wait to hear from you.” She laid her pen down on her desk. “And assuming everything is fine, the party should be a lot of fun. I'm looking forward to it.”

  We stood and told her we'd be in touch with her by the end of the day. We saw ourselves out and walked outside. The grounds crew was getting ready to mow, and a truck had just arrived with a load of fresh mulch to spread over the flowerbeds. A couple of residents were outside, enjoying the sunshine before the heat became intolerable.

  “Well, that was interesting,” I said.

  Jake put on his sunglasses. “What the hell is her issue?”

  “She sounds a little overwhelmed by the party,” I said. “Maybe she’s never been in charge of something this big before.”

  “She’s the recreation director here, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, but as she said, she doesn’t usually take over organizing private parties. She does other stuff…like brings in clowns and jugglers and stuff, apparently.”

  Jake grunted. “Who on earth brings clowns in willingly? And pays them to come? And what the hell is a cat circus?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, reaching for his hand as we walked back to the house. “But I'm really hoping your grandma wants one.”

  TWENTY ONE

  “I think that Irv dude did it,” Will informed us, reaching for another slice of pizza. “He's super freaking creepy.”

  We'd spent the day at the house. The heat and humidity didn't seem terribly conducive to standing in lines at the parks, so we chose to spend the day being lazy and swimming. Grace had initially balked at the idea, but after a few minutes in the pool, she forgot all about rides and autographs. I'd found a local pizza place online that locals raved about, and we'd ordered a couple of giant New York style pies for dinner.