by V. M. Burns
B.J. flung the door open. “Come in. Y’all gonna need to hear this yourself.”
We hurried inside and found Monica Jill lying facedown on the floor. She had her arms sprawled out.
“What’s wrong?” Dixie asked Dr. Morgan, who was standing nearby with a smile. He picked up a paper from the dining room table and handed it to her.
I stood over Dixie’s shoulder and read.
Congratulations on your pregnancy.
Chapter 22
“She’s pregnant?” we said together.
Dr. Morgan nodded. “I suspected as much, but . . .”
Monica Jill was still on the floor. “Don’t you dare say those words to me. I refuse to believe this. I absolutely cannot be pregnant.”
B.J. walked over to the counter and took a bottle of wine. She poured herself a glass. “This explains why you passed out and have been eating like a horse.”
“I have not been eating like a horse. And how dare you drink alcohol in front of me when you know I can’t have any.”
B.J. smirked. “I’m doing this for you. Your nerves are shot, so I’m just trying to help you.”
“How is your drinking wine helping my nerves?”
“It’s keeping me from killing you.” She sipped her wine.
Monica Jill kicked and beat her feet on the floor. “This isn’t fair. It’s not fair. I can’t be pregnant. I just can’t.”
I turned to B.J. “How long has she been like this?”
“Since she left the doctor’s office. She called me to come get her, and she’s been throwing a first-rate tantrum since we arrived.”
Dr. Morgan sipped his wine. “I’m not really sure why I’m here.”
“Moral support,” B.J. said.
“I don’t need moral support,” Monica Jill said. “I need a drink.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” B.J. said. “I’ve been listening to this wailing and whining and gnashing of teeth all day, and my nerves are shot. It’s someone else’s turn.” She grabbed the bottle and walked through the living room out onto the large screened porch that overlooked the river.
Dr. Morgan smiled. “I think I’ll join her.”
Dixie and I walked to the living room and looked down at Monica Jill.
“How far along?” Dixie asked.
“I have no idea. I never got beyond the first lines on that paper.” She rolled over onto her back. “I kept thinking it has to be wrong. I’m too old for this. My daughter is grown and living in another state. We’re empty nesters. We’re supposed to be traveling and enjoying life. I should be getting ready for grandchildren, not having a baby.”
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I said. “Where . . .”
Monica Jill, normally a grand hostess, barely moved. She merely pointed down a hall.
I walked until I found a door, which I assumed was the bathroom, and I was pleased to know I had guessed right. In typical Monica Jill fashion, the room was decorated in the popular contemporary rustic style that I’d seen on HGTV design shows. The only surprise was that the counter and the trash can were littered with boxes, which was out of character for my meticulous friend. Closer inspection of the boxes showed them to be various makes and brands of home pregnancy tests.
Back in the living room, I asked, “So you didn’t trust the results from the doctor?”
Monica Jill turned her head to glare at me. “Would you?”
I worked to keep from laughing. “How many pregnancy tests did you take?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Twenty-five . . . thirty.”
Dixie snorted.
“Don’t you laugh at me, Scarlet Jefferson. If you got some report saying you were pregnant in your forties, you’d do the same thing.”
I sat down on the sofa. “Have you told your husband?”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I just can’t. We just paid off both our house and this river house. He was so excited about traveling and seeing the world.” She turned to look at me. “How can I tell him that he can just kiss that dream good-bye. We’re going to be changing diapers and getting up in the middle of the night and . . . paying for day care, and now we’re going to need to put another child through college.”
“All that’s true, but you’re going to have a baby. You’re going to get to watch it grow up and take its first steps. You get to be there for its first words and see the look in his . . . or her eyes when they recognize your face and smile.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “But . . . I’m old.”
“You’re mature, not old.” I chuckled. “You’re also wiser and more financially prepared for a baby.”
“What’s the real problem?” Dixie asked.
She paused. “I’m scared.”
“That’s understandable, but you know God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”
Monica Jill smiled. “First Corinthians, ten thirteen.”
I hadn’t noticed that B.J. had joined us until she spoke. “Plus, you have us for support.”
Jac had been lying at his mistress’s side but took that opportunity to give her face a lick before he circled three times and then curled up by her face. If she turned her head in his direction, they were nose to nose.
“Even Jac will help you through this,” Dixie said.
“Now get your butt up off the floor,” B.J. ordered. “I’m hungry. What do you have to eat?”
Whether at the sound of the word eat or the time of day, Monica Jill’s stomach let out a large growl, and we all laughed.
“I guess I am a bit hungry.” She sat up. “I have a lasagna in the fridge.”
B.J. extended a hand to help her friend off the floor. “Why do you have a lasagna in the fridge? Were you expecting company?”
“I was planning to take it to either June Vannover or Warren Keller. I hadn’t decided yet, but I can always make them another one.”
“I love the Southern casserole thing,” I said.
“Every Southern girl was raised to take food when someone dies.” Monica Jill said from the kitchen as she put the large dish into the oven. She opened the freezer and removed a bag with frozen garlic bread and placed it on the counter, and then she took out ingredients for a salad.
B.J. retrieved plates from a cabinet. “In Black families, we tend to bring fried chicken more than casseroles. When my mom passed, we had so much chicken I couldn’t look at a bird for two months.”
It didn’t take long before the kitchen smelled of tomatoes, garlic, and herbs. We all filled our plates with salad and headed to the screened porch to eat and enjoy the peaceful sounds of the river. While we ate, Dixie and I shared everything from our encounter with June Vannover and her hunky attorney to our conversation with Brittney Keller.
B.J. sipped her wine. “Check this out. I found out that Warren Keller did have an insurance policy on Naomi. Actually, they each had policies, but since Warren is still alive, I’m going to just focus on Naomi’s. He had a policy on Naomi for a million dollars.
“A million dollars?” we all repeated.
“Seems high to me,” I said.
“Who’s the beneficiary?” Dr. Morgan asked.
B.J. leaned forward. “Here’s the extra-suspicious part. Both of them listed Brittney Keller as beneficiary.” She gave us a glance that said suspicious.
“Brittney?” Dixie frowned. “I can see why Warren would make his daughter his beneficiary, but under no circumstances can I see Naomi listing Brittney.”
“Um-hmm.” B.J. waved her fork. “That raised a red flag with me too. So I asked my friend who told me about it, and he said Warren Keller took out both policies.”
“Can he do that?” I asked. “Is that legal? Can a person take out l
ife insurance on someone else? I mean, that just seems like an invitation to murder.”
“Anyone can take out a life insurance policy on themselves. So, Warren’s policy is fine. However, you can’t take out a life insurance policy on someone without their consent. I couldn’t take out a policy on any of you. I have to prove that I have an insurable interest.” She paused for a moment. “I have to prove that your death would cause me harm in order to have a right to insure your life.” She glanced at us. “Does that make sense?”
“So a wife or husband would have a reason to insure each other, right?” Dixie asked.
“Exactly, or a parent has a reason to insure their children. It gets harder when you get further outside of the family, but business partners would have a reason to insure each other because if one died, it could harm the business. It looks like Warren and Naomi got life insurance policies when they were married. Warren was considered the owner of the policies. He paid the premiums. If you’re the owner, then you can make whatever changes to the policy you want.”
My curiosity was piqued. “What kind of changes?”
“Like changing the beneficiaries. When the policies were first drawn up, he was her beneficiary and vice versa. However, at some point, Warren changed the beneficiary so now it’s him and his daughter, Brittney.” B.J. raised her fork. “Him, I understand. He’s a lawyer and the primary bread winner, but her…” She took a minute to take a bite of her lasagna. “Since I was investigating, I decided to check out Dixon Vannover too.”
“Please tell me June Vannover had a million-dollar policy on Dixon?” Monica Jill asked.
B.J. took a few minutes to chew and swallow before saying, “Two million.”
“Wow!” Dr. Morgan whistled. “Looks like regardless of how well her art sells, she is going to be a wealthy woman.”
Monica Jill made a face as she swallowed the milk Dr. Morgan had encouraged her to drink. “He may be insured for two million dollars, but June may need every penny to cover his debts.”
“Yikes!” I said. “Was he in bad shape?”
“I looked into his real estate business, and he borrowed funds from the business to support his political campaign. Plus, there’s the big house in that gated community and two expensive cars. Dixon Vannover liked to live well above his means.”
“Beau was going to bring this to the meeting, but he checked around, and Dixon Vannover owed a lot of people money,” Dixie said. “I don’t know if they will all be able to collect, but June will probably need to sell the real estate business and the house.”
Dr. Morgan cleared his throat. “Well, I took the scraps from the material found around Naomi Keller’s neck to forensics and asked if they could expedite the analysis. Madison was right. It appears to have been a lead used for dog shows.”
“I wonder whose lead it was?” I asked.
“Hard to tell at a dog show,” Dixie said. “A lot of people who compete in obedience and agility also compete in conformation. So it could have belonged to anyone, including Naomi herself.”
“I didn’t get Dixon Vannover’s body,” Dr. Morgan said, “but I called Red and asked him to make sure that they compare the garrote used on Vannover to the one used on Naomi.”
Monica Jill’s phone rang. “Oh, this is the realtor for that building you sent me.” She took the call, but after a few minutes, it was clear from her face and tone that it was bad news. She hung up. “Phooey, that building is sold.”
“While we were talking to Brittney Keller at the Greyhound rescue, she happened to mention that they’re going to be selling that building,” Dixie said.
“It would be perfect because it’s already been renovated . . . well, mostly,” I said. “There’s still going to be some things you’re going to want to change.”
We talked about the building, and Monica Jill made a few phone calls. It didn’t take long for her to locate the listing agent and arrange a formal showing for the next day. She was even more excited when she smiled and said, “Guess what?”
No one even hazarded a guess, but it didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. “The building owner is Barbara Westfield.” She looked at us expectantly. However, neither of us knew why that name mattered until she said, “Red’s sister. She owns the property and is going to be the one showing it to us tomorrow.”
“Oh, goody,” I said. I’d previously promised to go with Dixie to see the building, and I now wondered if I had time to get a full makeover.
On the ride home, Dixie and I chatted about the baby, the building, and what we’d learned.
“Given the amount of money Warren Keller pulls down, is it surprising that he and Naomi would have million-dollar insurance policies?” Dixie asked.
“Not really. In fact, it’s not even unusual that Dixon Vannover has a two-million-dollar policy. He’s the primary breadwinner and has all of those business interests.” I leaned back on the seat and tried to pull my thoughts into a relevant response. “However, I do believe that those policies give June, Warren, and Brittney a million reasons to commit murder.”
Chapter 23
I hadn’t heard from Red all day, so I wasn’t surprised to see his truck at my house when Dixie brought me home. Dixie was under the misguided impression that Red and I would need some alone time. I pointed out that we would hardly be alone with Stephanie, Joe, Madison, and David. Not to mention Aggie, Rex, Lucky, Turbo, and probably Steve Austin in tow.
We went in, and after dropping off my purse, we immediately followed the noise and went out back, where the humans sat talking and the dogs were playing in the grass.
When we sat down with our adult beverages in hand, the conversation made its way to the murder.
“Dixon Vannover was strangled with something similar to the dog lead that was used on Naomi Keller,” Red said, “but we won’t know for sure until forensics is done.”
“Where was he found?” I asked.
“In their backyard. June found him when she stumbled over the body.”
“Ugh. What a horrible thing, to find your spouse dead.”
Red’s silence spoke volumes.
“What?”
“She claims she didn’t talk to him, but one of the neighbors heard them arguing.”
“You can’t believe June killed him? She was going to leave him. She’d sold some artwork and realizes now that she could be independent. She didn’t need to kill him.”
The silence that greeted me indicated that I was the only person who believed June was innocent. I turned to Dixie. “You can’t believe she did it? You saw how she looked today.”
Dixie hung her head.
“What?”
“Lilly Ann, we saw June with a handsome Superman lawyer, and we know she had a two-million-dollar life insurance policy on her husband.”
“What?” Red shouted.
David laughed. “I think you have some ’splaining to do, Lucy.”
I took a few minutes and told everyone about our trip to June Vannover’s and also what we’d learned while at Monica Jill’s house. “Oh, and Monica Jill is expecting.”
Both Stephanie and Madison’s faces lit up.
Madison clapped. “Wow! Is she excited?”
I hesitated. “I wouldn’t exactly call it excitement. I think she’s in shock and has a bit of fear, but I feel confident excitement will be her next emotional stop.”
“Well, I had a rather heated day.” Madison gave Red a sideways glance and continued after receiving a nod from him. “Naomi Keller and Dixon Vannover exchanged some very steamy e-mails.” She fanned herself.
“Really?” Dixie asked. “Anything fit for mixed company?”
“Nothing very original. Naomi’s messages were spent stroking Dixon’s ego about how amazing he was. How he was a better man and a better lover than her husband. Dixon’s messages were about how much he couldn’t wait until they
could be together all the time. How his wife was just a stupid boat anchor who was dragging him down, but Naomi would be a credit to him and would make a huge splash in Washington.”
“That man’s opinion of himself was so large, it’s a wonder he could tolerate himself,” Dixie said. “His ego was bigger than the state of Tennessee.”
“It was certainly bigger than his IQ,” Stephanie said.
Madison leaned forward. “I know, right? It’s the twenty-first century. Why on earth would you put anything in writing you didn’t want broadcast all over the news.” She glanced at each of us. “I mean, the man was running for political office. His political opponents wouldn’t have had to search hard to find out that he was cheating on his wife.”
Stephanie sighed. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know you don’t want to believe that June killed him, but if she did, I certainly don’t blame her.”
“Actually, a pretty strong case could be made against her,” Red said. “In fact, I’d say the case against June is much stronger than anything against Dixie.”
“That makes me feel better . . . I guess,” Dixie said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Dixie had motive, means, and opportunity to kill Naomi Keller. They had a history and were seen fighting earlier in the day, but we can’t find that Dixie had a reason for murdering Dixon, and considering she was here with two TBI officers while Dixon was murdered, I’d say her alibi is sound.”
Dixie looked surprised. “Does this mean I’m off the hook?”
Red smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, you were never on the hook, but I do believe anyone would have a hard time making a case against you stick.”
Dixie held up her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Let’s ask our legal expert.” Red turned to Stephanie. “What do you think?”
Stephanie thought for a few minutes. “It’s been hard to remain objective and not allow my personal feelings to color my judgment in this case, but I honestly think Red’s right.” She turned to Dixie. “It looks like the two murders are related. Aunt Dixie had no motive and no opportunity to kill Dixon Vannover, so I think she’s safe.”