Mayhem, Mystery and Murder

by John A. Broussard

  “I wonder how Eleanor Dryden’s mind works… or doesn’t work. Why would she want a death certificate, of all things?”

  “It does seem kind of strange. Usually the mixup for older people is thinking someone’s alive who’s been long dead. But, anyway, she also said in the letter that she’d asked her sister for a copy of the certificate, and that Margaret just keeps putting her off. That’s why Eleanor wrote directly to the records office.”

  “Did you tell Margaret that?”

  “Yes. She says that this is the first she’s heard of her sister getting off on this tangent. I guess Eleanor’s pretty far gone.”

  “Did you call her about the certificate?”

  “No. I thought I’d wait until Monday morning. It may be a long phone call, needing a lot of explaining and listening to.”

  “I wonder. You know, with the weekend coming up, I could take a run down to Baxter and talk to her.”

  “What? I thought homicide detectives were only concerned about dead people. What’s going on?”

  Devlin smiled, “Well, it’s only a two-hour drive. Nice countryside. And I can clear it with the Chief so it will be official business. I thought you might like to come along. Maybe we could pack a lunch and stop at the State Park at Lake Winnepeshobe.”

  A return smile was the answer. “A mixed business and pleasure trip, is that what it’s going to be?”

  “With you along, it will be mostly pleasure.”

  “You sure know you how to sweet-talk a girl. That would be nice. How about if I provide the lunch.”

  “I was hoping you’d offer.”

  The traffic was light, the weather was perfect, they had a picnic table all to themselves, and both of them enjoyed the occasion for just sitting and talking. Finally and reluctantly, they packed up the few items that needed packing, dumped the paper plates and other debris into the trash can and took off with the intention of arriving at the Mother Cabrini Elder Care Home after the noon lunch hour.

  “Eleanor Dryden?” The pleasant woman at the reception desk obviously knew all of the patients in the small nursing home.

  “How is she feeling? Can she have visitors?”

  “About as well as can be expected. She has a very bad heart condition, so she’s completely bedridden. But she’ll be happy to have company. She sure loves to talk. Go right down the hall, first turn to the left, room 109. She’s the only one there right now.”

  The room was a surprisingly cheerful one with three large windows and two TV’s. One of them faced the empty bed, the other was high on the wall opposite the elderly woman who was propped up on pillows and watching the screen. She seemed quite alert and responded immediately to the presence of her visitors by picking up the remote and switching off the TV.

  Devlin introduced himself without mentioning his official position, but did say that Katherine Deneuve was from the County Records Office.

  Eleanor’s eyes lit up. “My. How nice of you to have driven all this way just to bring me the certificate.”

  It was Katherine who did the explaining. “I’m very sorry. There must be some misunderstanding, but your mother is still alive.”

  “That can’t be. Margaret told me herself, months ago, that mother had died. Oh, I know. She must have had mother buried in the old cemetery in Durst County. The death certificate must be in that records office. It’s awfully strange, though. Margaret didn’t say anything about that.”

  Katherine shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. I spoke to Margaret just yesterday. She told me Mrs. Larkin is alive and well, though bedridden.”

  Devlin broke in before the obviously puzzled Eleanor could say anything more. “Why did you want the death certificate, Mrs. Dryden, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Still frowning, she replied, “Not at all. Mother took out an insurance policy on me when I was born. It was one of those—I’m not sure of the name—something year-life. It wasn’t much. Twenty-five cents a week or something like that. And she had to pay it for only a few years, then it was payable to me on her death. I’d forgotten completely about it until I found the policy in a bunch of old papers I was going through the other day. I wrote the company. And they said all they needed was my signature and a copy of the death certificate, then they would send me the money. It isn’t much, but it will help to bury me.”

  After a few more minutes of conversation, Devlin promised the matter would be cleared up very quickly. The two of them said their good-byes to an Eleanor who obviously would have liked to have them linger. They, on the other hand, could hardly wait to get back to the car to share impressions.

  “What do you think?” The sergeant was the first to ask.

  “I think Eleanor Dryden is of completely sound mind, and I’m now beginning to wonder about the soundness of Margaret Larkins’ mind.”

  “That’s exactly the way I feel. And I’m ready to get back to town as soon as possible so we can pay a visit on Ms. Larkin. You with me?”

  “I sure am. It sounds as though we have a mystery on our hands.”

  As she was speaking, the police radio broke in. “Hostage situation, hostage situation!” it blared.

  “There goes our quiet day,” Devlin commented wryly, after listening to the details. “Your home’s on the way to the hostage site. I’ll drop you off and get back to you as soon as possible.”

  The parting was an even quicker peck on the cheek than usual, delivered by Katherine just before she slid out of the passenger seat. Seconds later, the sergeant was racing off in the direction of distant wailing sirens.

  With the day still young, and no plans for the afternoon, Katherine was so puzzled by the mystery that she decided to do alone what they had planned to do together—visit Margaret Larkin.

  The mystery deepened the moment the woman answered the door. Why, of course, the elder Mrs. Larkin was at home. No Katherine couldn’t see her. Her mother was bedridden and the doctor had left strict orders for her to not be disturbed. It was none of Katherine’s business who her doctor was. With that last angry statement, the door slammed in the visitor’s face.

  It wasn’t until hours later that Devlin returned to Katherine’s house. A description of the hostage situation, fortunately resolved without bloodshed, took priority over her visit to the Larkin home.

  When it was Katherine’s turn, Devlin listened closely to her report, interrupting only to ask, “What did you tell her?”

  “Practically nothing. I really didn’t have a chance to. I told her I’d spoken to Eleanor and that she’d insisted Margaret had told her their mother was dead. I didn’t say we’d gone to visit Eleanor, so I suspect Margaret just assumed I talked to her on the phone.”

  “Didn’t she ask you why you had come by?”

  “No. She was too busy telling me I was a nosy busybody, in almost those words. Are you going to get a court order to enter the house?”

  “Can’t. No judge would sign an order just to let us enter to check on the presence or absence of someone. Not with what little evidence we have that something strange is going on.”

  Katherine’s voice rose. “She killed her mother!”

  A laugh greeted the outburst. “Now we might do better in getting a court order if we could give the judge a motive.”

  “Insurance.” Almost as she said it, she realized her explanation was silly.

  “Sorry, Katherine, but to collect life insurance, you have to produce a death certificate. Remember? Besides, Margaret Larkin is insisting that her mother is alive. That’s hardly the way to collect insurance. No. I think I know what’s going on. And I also think I have a way of getting into that house.”

  “How?”

  “First thing Monday morning I’m going to alert the Regional Social Security Office to the fact that they may be making payments to someone who’s dead. They’ll go and check. If Margaret won’t let them in, then they have cause to get a federal court order to investigate. We just have to be patient. And I’ll call Eleanor tomorrow and te
ll her it will be a while before we can clear up the confusion.”

  “What a day we’ve had!”

  “I know. Sorry about that. It was supposed to be a nice quiet one.”

  “Care to try for another tomorrow? How about lunch after church?”

  “You aren’t trying to get me to Mass, are you?”

  “That would be nice. I’ll even make the lunch.”

  “You know the way to a man’s soul, don’t you?”

  Devlin tried not to fidget during services any more than he had as a teenager, which was probably the last time he’d been to church. Katherine’s obvious pleasure at his attendance was some reward for the forty minutes of boredom. The nice lunch she’d prepared was even more so.

  Relaxing over coffee after the meal, the subject of Mrs. Larkin came up. “Have you called Eleanor Dryden yet?” Katherine asked.

  Devlin grinned. “I was too busy this morning dressing for church. Maybe I should call her right now.”

  While Katherine was stacking dishes into the washer, she listened to Devlin’s call, becoming suddenly aware of a marked change in his voice.

  “When?… What?… What did she do?” Devlin beckoned to Katherine, covered the mouthpiece and said, “Keep her talking, I’m going to call the nursing home on my cell phone.” Then, into the phone, “Katherine Deneuve is here. She wants to talk to you. Here she is.”

  The bewildered Katherine picked up the portable as Devlin unclipped his phone from his belt and punched in the nursing home number. Fortunately, Eleanor was doing all the talking, so Katherine could make out at least something of what her companion was saying on his phone.

  “Please. This is Sergeant Devlin. I was by yesterday to see Mrs. Dryden. Oh, good. Yes, that’s right. I was with Mrs. Deneuve. I’m glad you remember me. Now, please listen closely. Have someone go to Mrs. Dryden’s room and remove all of the food and medicine. Be sure that the coffee is included. It’s very important you do that immediately. As soon as I hang up I’ll have the local police come by to check the food and explain what’s going on… thank you.”

  As he hung up, he signaled Katherine to continue talking, which wasn’t difficult, since Eleanor Dryden was having no trouble at all holding up her end of the conversation. Devlin then immediately put in the promised call to the Baxter police. Katherine rolled her eyes as Devlin said, “Hang tough for a few minutes more. They’re on their way and they’ll call me as soon as they’ve picked up the food.”

  The promised minutes later, after Devlin had answered a callback on his phone, Katherine eased herself out of her conversation with Eleanor. Her first words were, “Getting off the phone was easier to do than I thought it would be. She says a lot of people are suddenly crowding into her room, and she wants to talk to her company. Now, explain to me exactly what’s going on.”

  “It’s not hard to explain. Margaret called on Eleanor this morning for the first time in months. Eleanor was ever so pleased, because Margaret doesn’t drive, so it meant a bus ride, plus a transfer and about four hours altogether to get there from here. She said her sister was all concerned about her. Margaret told her that their mother was buried in Durst County, and she promised to get her the certificate next week.”

  Katherine still looked quizzical.

  “Just before Margaret got up to go, the nurse brought in the lunch tray and left it on the night stand. Eleanor says Margaret made a lot of fuss over it. Said the coffee was already cold and went out to get her a hot cup. She left shortly afterwards and, just by luck, my phone call got to Eleanor before she started eating.”

  At that point, Devlin’s cell phone rang. The conversation was brief. “Bingo!” he exclaimed after he hung up. “A lab technician took a chance and tasted the coffee. She says there’s definitely digitalis in it. If she’s right, it wouldn’t have taken much of that coffee to finish Eleanor off, considering her heart condition. The worst of it is that no one would have suspected it because her heart was already in such bad shape.”

  Katherine was shocked. “How could anyone kill a sister?” Before Devlin could say anything, she answered her own question. “I guess terrible things like that do happen, more often than most people know.”

  Devlin nodded.

  “So there’ll be no problem getting a search warrant now.” Katherine said.

  “None. My guess is that we’ll find Mrs. Larkin buried in the back yard. And she probably just died of natural causes. Margaret wanted to keep the Social Security payments coming into their joint account, and this was the simplest way to accomplish that—just not report her mother’s death.”

  “I can see why she would want to keep the checks coming in, since they were probably quite large. I remember that her mother had worked as an executive secretary for a big firm for over thirty years, so she must have been getting the largest amount possible from Social Security.”

  Devlin agreed, “It was just too tempting to pass up.”

  “But why did Margaret tell Eleanor their mother had died?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that. Maybe she got tired of her sister calling and asking to speak to her mother. I’m sure she assumed it wouldn’t matter if Eleanor thought her mother was dead. Certainly Margaret wasn’t aware of that insurance policy, so she never imagined Eleanor would go looking for a death certificate.”

  Katherine’s phone rang at that moment. “Exciting place you have here,” Devlin commented as he ambled out to the kitchen to renew the coffee supply.

  The expression on Katherine’s face puzzled him when he returned with two steaming cups. “Bad news?” he asked.

  “I think you’re going to consider it good news.”

  “Yes?”

  “That was Charlie. He called to tell me he just remarried this morning.”

  Devlin carefully set the cups down on the coffee table, not taking his eyes off of Katherine as she continued. “For the first time I feel as though I’m not married anymore.”

  Even more carefully, Devlin moved over to the couch next to her. What followed was more than a quick peck on the cheek.

  THE DAY THE FIREWORKS STAND EXPLODED

  After having made twenty-seven sorties over Europe as a B-17 gunner, I found Reynolds County pretty tame—which was exactly the way I liked it.

  And then there was the day the fireworks stand exploded.

  World War II had been over and behind us for over a year. I’d settled down as owner, manager and sole full-time employee of the Reynoldsville Free Press. I had also finally succeeded in saving up enough money for Sally Winthrop and me to get married. It was about then, early one June morning at a meeting of the County Commissioners, that the excitement I’m talking about really started. That was back in the days before television, and Commission meetings were about the only high public entertainment outside of the new movie drive-in. But that day there hadn’t been anything promising on the agenda like a leash law proposal, so there were only a few onlookers scattered through the hearing room.

  Cora Kearney was there, of course, with her inevitable knitting and that grim look on her face, which indicated she was on the alert for any sign of the three Commissioners planning to spend her tax money foolishly. Andrew Goulbenkian, the town grocer, was a surprise. For him to leave his store in charge of Freddy, his nephew, meant that he must have something really important to bring before the Commission. The biggest surprise of all was the presence of the Kaminsky brothers. They were always skirting the edge of the law, so the County Safety Building wasn’t exactly their favorite hangout.

  I scanned the rest of the audience and spotted a couple of strange faces, two men sitting together at the front of the room. Before I could do much speculating about them, Chairman Gottschalk brought his mahogany gavel down with a bang, and the meeting was underway. I was checking the agenda I’d picked up at the door at the exact moment Lennie Gottschalk announced the first item of business. Roberts Rules didn’t hold the Reynolds County Commission in thrall, so approval of the minutes was regarde
d to be a foregone conclusion unless Lennie felt otherwise.

  “Albert Hamilton” (the gavel pointed to one of the strangers) “has filed for a variance to allow the construction of a fireworks stand at the corner of Leominster Road and Firley Highway on Sidney Condon’s pasture.” The gavel came up accompanied by, “Anyone care to comment?” Several raised hands indicated that what had promised to be a dull morning session might now turn out to include something newsworthy.

  Even Commissioner Marquart stopped primping her hair long enough to survey the show of hands. The third commissioner, Lyle Johannesen, perked up too, and went so far as to stop chain-smoking his roll-your-owns for a few moments. Ordinarily, his sole purpose for wanting to be on the Commission was to watch out for the local cattlemen’s interests, which included mainly concern for his own vast herd and for anything that might affect it. He always considered the town-funded stockyards as his greatest contribution to the well-being of the Reynolds County.

  I could see that Lennie was now resigned to a long session, when I knew he much preferred puttering around out at his business, the sole undertaking service in town. I had never figured out why he spent so much time around the bodies and embalming fluid until I met his wife.

  Deciding to get the worst over first, he called on Cora. At six-two, and weighing well over two hundred pounds, Cora Kearney was a formidable-looking person even in normal times. When aroused, as she was now, she could have been a stand-in for King Kong. “We don’t need any fireworks in this town. My Skippy is deathly afraid of them, and we have enough noise around here already, what with you allowing that detour by my apartment for no better reason than changing a few light poles, and besides…”

  I’d stopped taking notes after her first few words, knowing pretty much what she was going to say and how she was going to say it. Skippy was her monster German Shepherd who would probably have been eager to tear the leg off of any fireworks fancier, or anyone else for that matter, and was about as much afraid of firecrackers as I am of bunny rabbits.