by Krista Davis
I took out my cell phone and dialed Mars’s number. When his iPhone played musical notes from under the mulch, Mrs. Danvers glared at me with fury.
“The hand is holding a phone?” asked Kenner.
“Mars’s phone accidentally landed near it,” I explained.
The rescue squad lifted Roscoe onto the gurney and rolled it across the lawn. Mindy and Mars walked alongside it, but Mrs. Danvers seemed torn. She wavered, watching Kenner bend over to brush away mulch. He uncovered the phone and seconds later, the hand.
He stood up straight. “Looks like a man’s hand.” He pulled out his phone and made a call.
Mrs. Danvers’s breathing was so labored, I feared she might be the next one to keel over. Her back straight as a board, she walked across the grass to the guest house, opened the door, and disappeared inside.
When she exited moments later, her back was still ramrod straight, but her head sagged like she’d lost her best friend. Unless I missed my guess, she already knew who was buried under the mulch. Her behavior had certainly been peculiar. Covering up the hand and trying to get rid of the police had been futile gestures at best. I couldn’t help thinking that she was trying to protect someone. Given her actions and Roscoe’s questions, I feared Audie was buried under the mulch.
The sun had shifted, and we no longer had the benefit of any shade. I fanned myself. “Unless you need us for something, I guess Nina and I will go.”
Kenner shook his head. “Afraid not. I need statements from you. I’d appreciate it if you walked to the house on that little path with me.”
“She’s the one you need to talk to.” Nina pointed in Mrs. Danvers’s direction. “She doesn’t miss a single thing that happens around here. Do you think we should dig him out of there? Is there any chance he could be alive? It looks like someone raked or shoveled it on top him.”
“That would be something. I don’t think anyone could breathe under mulch. Sophie, could I have a word?” asked Kenner.
We stopped to talk.
“Hey! I have to check the cat trap.” Nina pointed to it. “The tuna will go bad.”
I explained about the cat and the reason for our presence.
Kenner squinted at Nina. “Stay on the patio. I’ll take the tuna to the trap.” He addressed me. “Why would Roscoe and Mars be out here talking in this heat?”
“It was still cool when we arrived. But Roscoe didn’t look well.” That didn’t actually answer his question. “I can only think of two reasons. Either Roscoe wanted to show something to Mars, or they didn’t want anyone to overhear them. Nina’s right about the housekeeper. She’s up to her eyeballs in this. She must have been desperate to imagine that covering the hand would make the situation go away.”
“Why do you think she’s the one who covered it up?”
“Roscoe had fainted, and Mars was so creeped out that he didn’t want to retrieve his own phone. Nina wouldn’t have gone back there unless the cat was sitting on top of the hand. That leaves Mrs. Danvers.”
Kenner’s lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile, and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “You’d have made a good cop.” He pulled out a pad and pen. “Do you know her first name?”
How embarrassing. “Mrs. Danvers is the name of the dreadful housekeeper in Rebecca. Remember the book? Alfred Hitchcock made it into a movie.”
“Yeah, I watch a lot of chick flicks.” His tone dripped sarcasm.
“Roscoe and Mindy call her Violet. I don’t know her last name.”
Two crime scene investigators arrived. Kenner spoke with them briefly, then motioned to Nina.
They retreated to the house, while I waited outside in the shade of old trees, watching the cops work from a distance.
In a matter of minutes, Mars called me. I met him, Kenner, and Nina on the terrace in the blistering sun.
“Roscoe thinks the walls have ears,” said Mars. “That’s why we were talking outside this morning. He’s been feeling poorly for the past few months. The doctors think it’s his heart.”
Kenner made some notes on his pad. “Mars, what’s your connection to Roscoe?”
“He’s backing some of my clients in their bids for political office.”
“His family doesn’t know about his heart problems?” I asked. “Why would he keep that from them? Why confide in you?”
Mars shrugged. “Maybe he thinks they’ll push him into retirement. Yesterday he mentioned a couple of times that his son, Audie, was eager to take over the company.”
“How dare you. Audie would never hurt Roscoe.”
The voice caught me by surprise. From the shocked looks on their faces, no one else had realized that Mrs. Danvers had positioned herself upstairs near an open window to listen.
One of the cops shouted to Kenner. He cast a critical gaze at us. “I’m going to need someone to identify the body. Single file on the little path, please.”
We returned to the mulch pile, Mrs. Danvers close behind us.
The body had been uncovered. If Roscoe had heart problems, would he survive if this was the death of his only child?
Bracing myself for a gruesome sight, I swallowed hard, looked at the corpse, and gasped.
Heath, from Troy’s crew, lay on the ground. He was grimy from the mulch, but there was no mistaking the attractive guy I met two days ago. Toned muscles strained at the sleeves of his T-shirt. Bits of mulch and twigs stuck in his sandy hair. I guessed him to be in his late forties. What struck me the most was the lack of blood or obvious injury. If he hadn’t been grubby from the mulch, he would have looked like he had died of natural causes.
“Any of you know this guy?” asked Kenner.
Mrs. Danvers didn’t say a word.
I nodded. “I only met him once, but I’m pretty sure it’s Heath. He was supposed to be working with the crew in my backyard, but he didn’t show up for work yesterday.”
“Heath?” Kenner frowned at me.
Nina removed her hands from her mouth. “I concur. It’s Heath.”
“Dad!” Audie raced over to us from the house, Cricket followed more slowly, tottering on high heels again.
“Is it Dad? Is he okay? I got a call…” Audie stopped talking, and his forehead wrinkled when he saw the body. “I don’t understand. That’s Heath Blankenship. What’s he doing here?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dear Natasha,
My mom claims she had a geranium that lived for ten years. She brought it indoors every winter and took it out again in the summer. I don’t believe her. What do you think?
—Skeptical in Tulip, Indiana
Dear Skeptical,
My outdoor plants thrive indoors. The trouble with bringing annual plants indoors is that they take up so much room. Some plants are very happy to go dormant in the winter, but if you have a window that gets good light, you can enjoy flowers year-round.
—Natasha
“Who is Heath Blankenship?” Kenner asked Audie, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Cricket, who was busy trying to dislodge a heel from the soil. Carrying her shoes, she ran to join us.
“Violet called Audie. We came right away,” said Cricket.
I assumed she was used to men acting like fools around her, but she appeared startled to see Kenner. Her voice soft, she said, “Tommy Lee?”
Tommy Lee? So what if Kenner wasn’t my favorite person? I was a terrible and insensitive human being—I never once wondered what his first name might be.
She stretched out her arms and hugged Kenner. “I can’t believe it’s you!”
There was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. “Good to see you, Cricket.”
When Cricket finally turned her attention to the man on the ground, she squealed and flipped her fingers over her mouth. “Heath! I never thought I’d see him again, much less like this! What happened?”
Audie stared at Heath. “I can’t imagine what he’s doing here. He worked for our company a few years back. He’s a little older, I guess, but it’s him.
”
I’d seen him in the woods during the party. If he worked for the company once, he must have seen friends there. Maybe he mingled. “Do you think someone invited him to the party?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that I should have left the questioning to the cops.
Audie grunted cynically. “Not a chance. Where’s Dad?”
Violet’s jaw tightened. She glowered at Mars, Nina, and me as though we had caused their troubles. “They took him to the hospital. There’s not a thing wrong with him except heat exhaustion.” She stalked away, toward the house.
“Keep to the path!” yelled Kenner.
Violet ignored him. Audie jogged after her, pelting her with questions about Roscoe.
Cricket lingered, her attention on Kenner. “You haven’t changed a bit.” She tossed her copper hair back self-consciously.
He actually smiled. I didn’t think he was capable. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”
I was beginning to feel like the rest of us were intruding on something private.
She tilted her head a bit. “You old flatterer. I’m so glad that you’re on this case.”
“Cricket!” Audie shouted to her from the terrace.
“I have to go. We’ll catch up later. Okay?” She touched his elbow in a familiar way, then took off at a jog, keeping to the little path, her high heels still in her hands.
In a low voice, Kenner said, “You three can go now, too. I know where to find you.”
Mars, Nina, and I had been dismissed.
Mars held out his hand. “Could I have my phone back, please?”
“Nope.” Kenner didn’t even bother to look at him. “It’s part of the crime scene.”
“No it’s not,” protested Mars. “It didn’t land there until Violet knocked it out of my hand.”
“No can do, Mars. It was part of the crime scene when I arrived. How do I know the victim didn’t grab it off you when you were attacking him?”
I had never seen Mars at a loss for words before. He blinked at Kenner. “Aw, that’s funny. Okay, give me the phone.”
“Get out of here.” Kenner clearly meant to dispatch us.
“But it has all my contacts on it. It’s my life!”
“Give it up, Mars. You’re not getting it back.” Kenner reached out and grabbed my elbow, pulling me aside. “It appears that Wolf’s past has finally caught up with him. Thanks for turning in Anne’s handbag.”
“I didn’t. Wolf reported it himself.”
Kenner turned his face up to the cloudless blue sky. “Don’t let him deceive you. Anne is dead, and I don’t want the same to happen to you. He thought he got away with it, but he’s about to pay the piper.” He looked me in the eyes. “Are you in touch with him?”
“No. I don’t know where he is.”
“Huh.” He obviously didn’t believe me. “Did he stay with you last night?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It’s police business. How about the night before?”
Why did I feel like no matter how I answered that question, somehow I was going to sink Wolf deeper into trouble? Even though I understood the implications of the handbag, I felt compelled to defend Wolf. “You have never liked him. I don’t know what your problem is, but I assume you’re professional enough not to let your personal feelings intrude on the investigation.”
He blinked at me a couple of times and then looked in the direction Cricket had gone. “There are things you don’t know.”
Why did everyone keep saying that? “Then tell me!”
“Maybe someday. Not here, not now. But thanks to you digging up that purse, I think I’ve got him this time.” He walked back toward Heath.
Mars and Nina waited for me by her car.
“What did Kenner want?” asked Mars.
“He asked where Wolf was last night and had to tell me how much trouble Wolf is in. Like I didn’t already know that. And that it’s my fault—for uncovering Anne’s handbag. I’m just sick about it. People keep telling me there are things about Wolf that I don’t know, but they won’t tell me what. It’s like he has some big secret.”
An expression of pure delight came over Nina’s face. “Ohhh, I love ferreting out a good secret. Must have something to do with Anne. Maybe he had a fight with her lover? Think we could coax Olive to tell us?”
Mars’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll ask around. Wolf is a decent enough guy, even if he does insist on dating my ex-wife. I have trouble imagining him killing anyone.”
“You’re the one with reason to kill your”—Nina stopped short—“whatever Natasha is. She’d drive anyone to murder.”
Mars didn’t flinch. “Has Wolf ever been violent toward you?”
“Never. He got a little hot under the collar the other day about my meeting with Roscoe. Evidently they had a run-in sometime.”
“Olive!” Nina almost shouted her name. “Do you think anyone bothered to tell her about Roscoe? Maybe we should call her.”
Was that butting into their lives or being helpful? When did life get so complicated? “They’re divorced. Maybe we should leave it to Audie to tell his mom.”
“I would want to know if you were taken to the hospital.” Mars raised his eyebrows at me.
I wouldn’t have admitted it at that moment for the world because I didn’t want to lead Mars on—I had enough problems as it was—but I would want to know if Mars was sick or injured. Audie had to be in his forties, so Olive had undoubtedly spent at least forty or more years married to Roscoe. In spite of the divorce, she probably still had a soft spot for him—unless she was still so angry she couldn’t stand him.
Nina punched keys on her phone. “Rats! I can’t find her number. I think we should drive over there. It’s not far.”
Mars nodded in agreement. “I’m headed to the hospital. I’ll call you with an update on Roscoe.”
We drove away in opposite directions.
“You want to pump Olive about Wolf,” I accused.
“I’m shocked that you would even suggest such a thing. We’re doing Olive a favor, and if she should happen to tell us something that might be helpful to Wolf in the process, then that would be a fortunate coincidence.”
“So you don’t think he killed Anne?”
She paused before answering. “Sophie, please don’t hate me, but I don’t know what to think. The Wolf I know and love would never hurt anyone. But everyone has a temper. Everyone! It’s possible that they argued and there was an accident. Maybe she fell and hit her head.” She glanced at me as if to gauge my level of annoyance. “Some people have two sides to their personalities. Maybe there’s another Wolf that lurks underneath. He’s not the type who tells all.”
“If he has a violent streak, he’s hidden it very well. We’ve spent a lot of time together, and I’ve never seen it.” I had to suppose an accident was possible. “Would he have tried to cover up if she fell and hit her head and was dead? Don’t you think he would have called an ambulance?”
“I’m very sorry to say I know from personal experience that you can’t predict how someone will act in the heat of the moment. Wolf is as capable of panic as everyone else. Just because he’s the strong, silent type doesn’t mean he can’t make a bad call in the horror of the moment.”
We passed a dozen cars parked on the street near Wolf’s house. Nina pulled into Olive’s driveway. We stepped out and could hear the roar of a backhoe.
“Sounds like they’re still digging at Wolf’s.” I hadn’t paid much attention to Olive’s house the day before. Azaleas that must have been gorgeous in the spring lined the front of the yellow Cape Cod. Scented lavender and golden black-eyed Susans bloomed profusely on both sides of the white steps that led to the front door. Pink petunias overflowed their pots and cluttered the little stoop.
Nina rang the bell. We waited in silence but never heard footsteps on the other side of the door.
“Maybe she’s not home.” Nina rang the bell again. “Audie might have calle
d her. She could be on her way to the hospital already.”
“Or she could be out back, doing what she loves.”
We cut around the side of the house, which turned out to be larger than it looked in the front. Olive toiled in the back of her lot near the woods. She wore a sleeveless denim shirt and golf shorts, revealing bronzed arms and legs, wiry from working in the garden. A broad-brimmed straw hat kept the sun off her face. I noted with amusement that it had no veil or seed packets attached to it.
She saw us coming and waved a trowel. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been dying to hear an update on Wolf, and Francie doesn’t know anything.” She pulled off gardening gloves. “Watch your step. There’s a patch of poison ivy over there behind you.”
“Has Audie called you?” I asked.
“Audie?” She adjusted the hat. “Is something wrong?”
We explained what had happened to Roscoe. Olive took the news surprisingly well, but tension showed in the tightness of her mouth. “Excuse me while I place a phone call to my thoughtless son.” She marched across the lawn with us and stopped mid-stride. “Is an ex-wife still considered family? Will the hospital let me see him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You’ve known Roscoe a lot longer than Mindy has.”
“Excellent observation.” She lifted her chin and stoically proceeded to her house.
We accompanied her into an older eat-in kitchen with country charm and comfort. The cabinets had been washed with white paint so that an earlier green paint showed through just a hair. Pots of herbs sat on a windowsill above an old-fashioned double ceramic sink with a floral cloth hiding the plumbing underneath. Pots hung from a black rack adorned with chickens. Olive hadn’t bothered to hang curtains on the huge windows overlooking the property. Wall-mounted pieces of old mantels and headboards held a collection of vintage teapots, all in floral and herb patterns. A basket of pickling cucumbers rested on the table.
Although the kitchen was mostly white, flowers bloomed in a riot of colors in pots on the floor, the counters, and among the teapots.