by Abigail Keam
But he got the last word – really. William Justus Goebel was sworn in as governor on his deathbed. But in the end, it didn’t matter. Goebel died on February 3rd allegedly whispering these great words before the grim reaper took him, “Tell my friends to be brave, fearless and loyal to the common people.”
Of course, everyone knows what Goebel really said after eating his last dinner of raw oysters was, “Doc, that was a damned bad oyster.”
Doesn’t have quite the same noble ring to it, does it?
Why bring up Goebel now?
I always say – if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, swims like a duck . . . it’s a duck. You’ll understand this comparison later in my tale of mayhem.
Besides, Goebel was late to his own funeral. Instead of the body going from Frankfort to Covington on the L&N line, the body had to be transported to Louisville, across the river to Indiana, then to Cincinnati, across the river again to Covington and then back the same route to Frankfort on the Queen and Crescent Railroad. The L&N owners hated Goebel and refused their service. Talk about petty.
Just as Goebel was late to his funeral, I was late to Addison DeWitt’s.
Jake was having trouble finding a handicapped parking space. It seemed like all of Doreen’s friends were infirm, so I got out and left Jake to park where he could. I wheeled my chair to the back of the memorial service for Addison DeWitt at the church on Market Street, hoping to be inconspicuous so I could snoop.
A couple of pews in front of me sat Detective Goetz, hoping to do the same. He was writing names in his worn out little notebook while I was sure someone else was taking down license plate numbers outside.
Hmmmmmm. Didn’t Goetz tell me that he thought DeWitt’s death was due to natural causes? Maybe the coroner had come up with a different view of things but I knew it was too soon for the report to be finished. What gives?
Up front sat Lady Elsmere, with Meriah and Matt behind Doreen who was making little whimpering noises as her daughter tried to comfort her. Lady Elsmere reached over the pew and sympathetically patted Doreen on the shoulder. Just like June. She so liked to be in the thick of things.
I must admit this was my first Episcopalian funeral. You know my views on the Twenty-Third Psalm at funerals. I was hoping against hope that it would not be repeated here. Oooops! I was wrong. A priest began reciting it.
I let out a long sigh, which was heard by Goetz, who swiveled around in his seat. Upon seeing me, he also let out a sigh.
Was that due to me?
He got up from his pew and sat beside me in a very uncomfortable stack chair. “Whaddya doing here?” he whispered.
“Why are you here?” I asked. “You said DeWitt’s death was probably a heart attack. Coroner say differently?”
“See that girl crying in the corner over there?” replied Goetz. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but she has been hounding my office since DeWitt died and claiming that Mrs. DeWitt had something to do with his death.”
“Really!!!!” I gave the young woman sobbing into her handkerchief a very good study. “Why are you telling me?”
“Because I don’t want you poking your nose in this. If I tell you stuff, you have to keep it confidential and promise you won’t go around stirring up things.”
“What if I do tell someone?”
Goetz gave a very smarmy smile. “Then I’ll arrest you for interfering. And I would, too; don’t think I wouldn’t.”
“How about this? If I hear something interesting . . . now just listen . . . from my friends, let’s say, then I tell you. It’s quid pro quo. You tell me what’s going on with O’nan. I know your department is keeping tabs on him somewhat.”
Goetz’s hound dog face looked thoughtful for a moment. “Okay. Information for information, but only if someone volunteers something – like at a dinner party. I don’t want you to go around asking people questions, getting them all riled up.”
“I will be a beacon of discretion. You just keep me informed about O’nan.” I held out my pinky finger. “Pinky swear.” Wiggling my finger, I demanded, “Pinky swear!”
The Detective looked around to see if anyone was watching and then wrapped his pinky with mine. We shook.
“By the way, who is the crying Madonna over there?”
“She says she was DeWitt’s girlfriend and he was going to leave Mrs. DeWitt. Her name is Lacey Bridges.”
“That’s a motive for murder,” I cautioned.
“Not if you read the prenup,” replied Goetz. “DeWitt had no money. If he had left his wife for another woman, he would have walked out with just the clothes on his back.”
“Maybe Doreen really loved him.”
Goetz smiled. “Come on. Really? Always the romantic. That’s what I like about you, Josiah. In many ways, you’re an innocent. True love? What bull.”
“So if he walked, Doreen would not have to give him any money,” I said thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m right. She loved him and killed him in a fit of jealousy.”
Goetz shook his head. “DeWitt bought two tickets to Venice for the following week.”
“See there. He was running away with his girlfriend.”
“Nope. He was taking Mrs. DeWitt on a second honeymoon. Made a big deal of it at the old lady’s party. He wasn’t about to leave his cozy nest.”
“Maybe that was a cover for what he was really going to do, which was leave Doreen?”
“Doesn’t fit. He initiated buying the airplane tickets. He was trying to keep his wife happy.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“This is the last of the man-hours I can spare on this case. If something concrete doesn’t show up soon, the case is going to be closed as death due to heart failure. There is no evidence to the contrary.”
“I see.”
“What?”
“I understand . . . it is just that the room felt so creepy. I can’t explain it but something besides a simple heart attack was occurring. I understand, though, why you might need to move on.”
“Right. I can’t use a ‘creepy feeling’ as evidence to continue a case.” With that last word, Goetz rose and went outside.
I wanted to ask Goetz another question. Why were the police called? When there is a medical emergency, 911 is called for an ambulance. The police don’t show up unless there is foul play suspected and it’s usually the paramedics who call it in. But the paramedics and Officer Kelly arrived about the same time – so who called the police . . . and better yet – why? I made a mental note to find out.
Without me realizing it, the memorial service had ended and people were starting to rise and meander down the aisle. The priest announced the church had prepared food and drink for the bereaved.
Things were looking up.
I waited for everyone to pass. Matt stopped by and asked if he could wheel me but I shook my head. It was easier for me to wait until after everyone else was settled. I didn’t like getting in the ambulatory folks’ way. It was rude.
Waiting at least ten minutes, I started for the food when I heard, “Excuse me. Can I talk to you?”
I looked up and saw the young mourner for Addison. She was looking bright-eyed and hopeful. “My name is Lacey Bridges. Please, I need to talk with you, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“How do you know who I am?”
She gave a knowing look. “Oh come on. Everyone knows who you are.”
“Really?”
“I don’t mean to be impertinent, but I need to talk with you.”
“About what?”
“The police won’t listen. At least they won’t listen to me.” Lacey pulled a chair over so she was on eye level with me. “I know Doreen killed Addison. I just don’t know how.”
“Do you know why?”
Her young pretty face glowed with anticipation. She reminded me of a pretty Christmas tree before the limbs started to droop. “Yes, I do.”
“Doreen killed him out of jealousy?”
“NO!” protested Lacey, frustrated
. “She killed him because of greed.”
“Greed?”
“This is what I can’t get the police to understand. Doreen wanted to divorce Addison. She was tired of him but she couldn’t divorce him because if she did, she would have to pay him a settlement if she filed without proof of abuse or adultery. That’s why she hired me. She wanted me to seduce Addison and provide her with proof of adultery so she could divorce him without giving him a dime. It’s all in the prenup.”
“Your story is rather fantastic. What went wrong? You fall in love with Addison?”
“Yes, terribly. I wanted to marry him. I destroyed any evidence of him cheating and confronted Doreen about it.”
“Did he know about Doreen hiring you?”
Lacey shook her head while wiping her dripping nose.
“Well, my dear, that is a cute story but there is one flaw. Addison had no intention of divorcing his wife. In fact, he was taking her on a trip to Venice to celebrate their marriage, a sort of second honeymoon. It was his idea and he bought the tickets.”
“You’re lying. He loved me. He was going to tell her.”
“When the moment was right?”
Lacey nodded her head. The light streamed through the stained glass windows, giving her an ethereal glow.
Sighing, I said, “That right moment might have taken years. Men are notorious about not telling their wives about their mistresses . . . except for my husband. The actress Yvonne DeCarlo said, ‘Men, no matter what their promises, rarely leave their spouses . . . the louses.’ “
The young woman started backing away and pointed a finger at me. “He . . . he loved me. He was going to tell her. You’re just like all the rest . . . trying to trip me up.”
“Ask yourself this. If he had asked for a divorce, would he have received a settlement?”
“No,” Lacey whispered.
“I’m sorry, young lady. He may have loved you, but he was not going to leave Doreen and her money anytime soon,” I said, but I was talking to empty air. Lacey was gone. Somewhere a door slammed. I blew out a wad of air from my cheeks. Suddenly losing my appetite, I wheeled myself outside and called Jake from my cell phone. He’d parked down the street.
Within a moment, the car was in front of the church and Jake had a big grin on his face. He was happy to see me.
Oh Lord. Could I trust him? Would he break my heart like Lacey’s was broken now?
Probably.
I would just have to stand it when the time came.
Before we headed home, we stopped at Franklin’s apartment. He was not returning my calls and, frankly, I was very worried.
Jake knocked on the door while I waited in the car. Minutes passed but no one answered the door. Jumping over the porch railing, Jake headed for the back where he was going to break in. I waited tensely in the car praying, “Oh please Franklin, don’t have done something stupid.”
It seemed forever until the front door was opened by Franklin with Jake holding him up by his shirt collar. “Alright. Alright,” hissed Franklin. “Let go, you big monkey.”
I rolled down the car window. “You can be such a shit, Franklin, making me worry so.”
“Come on in,” said Franklin. “It is obvious that I can’t keep you out.”
An angry looking Jake pushed past Franklin and after opening the car door, picked me up and carried me into the house. Gently he placed me in one of Franklin’s chintz chairs.
“Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
Franklin plopped down in a chair across from me. “You know why. I needed time to lick my wounds.”
“For what it’s worth, I think Matt is making a big mistake,” I replied.
“You think that. I think that. What do you think, Jake?”
“I think he should try this marriage with Meriah. It’s more socially acceptable. He can have his own children. It’s just less trouble over all.”
“Oh, who in the hell asked you!” wailed Franklin.
“You did.”
I turned around and gave Jake a big frown. Jake shrugged and retreated to the kitchen.
“What are you going to do, Franklin?” I asked.
Reaching into his pocket, Franklin pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “I’m not going to become one of those screaming meanies who takes his business all over the streets. And I’m certainly not going to stay in town during the wedding.”
“I see you have some bags packed by the door.”
“I’m going on a long cruise. Josiah, I can’t stay around here. I’ll just fall apart. By the time I get back, I will have cried this all out. I am going to embarrass neither Matt nor myself by being hysterical, which is what I feel at the moment. Best I leave until I can contain myself.”
“What did you say when Matt told you?”
“I was stunned. I thought, maybe another man, but marrying a woman and Meriah Caldwell on top of that? It just blew my mind. I told him he was making a mistake but that I wished him well. Then I asked him to leave.”
Franklin blew his nose again. “You know what he said after that? He hoped we could stay friends. Friends! What a joke,” Franklin sniffled.
“I tried to talk him out of marrying but Matt is determined.”
Franklin folded his handkerchief and placed it back in his pocket. “Thank you for that. I just didn’t want to see anyone. It’s so humiliating. I mean . . . the money I have spent on bridal magazines would have paid for a car.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“That’s right. You got dumped too.”
In the kitchen I heard Jake snicker.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked, ignoring his remark.
Franklin looked at his watch. “Can you take me to the airport? My plane leaves in two hours. I might as well go to the airport now.”
“Sure. No problem.”
Jake gathered Franklin’s luggage, and then me, into the car before we sped off to the Bluegrass Airport.
As Franklin was getting out of the car, he said, “I just keep thinking – why wasn’t I enough? That ever cross your mind with Brannon?”
Before I could reply, Franklin sashayed through the doors. He didn’t turn around to wave goodbye. When he thought we weren’t looking, his head drooped.
I wondered if I was ever going to see Franklin again. And his words had struck deep. Why hadn’t I been enough for Brannon? The nights I had lain awake wondering. I would never know.
Neither Jake nor I said a word all the way home.
12
I called Goetz early the next morning. Could I meet him for lunch?
“Show up at Hannah’s on Lime at one o’clock,” he said before hanging up.
That was good for me as I had a doctor’s appointment before that. Some x-rays were taken and good luck seemed to be in my corner that morning. The Velcro cast was taken off. Jake had brought a sturdy medical cane as though he knew. Anyway, I felt relieved. I was tired of hearing Jake grunt when he picked me up and harp on the extra weight I needed to lose. I knew I needed to lose it. Geez, one thing at a time, okay, lover. Still it felt great to have that thing off me. The cast . . . not Jake.
Hmmm, I thought. Maybe we could get things grooving in the right direction now.
Jake and I got to Hannah’s first and ordered lunch. I ordered for Goetz, knowing that he liked turkey sandwiches with mayo, chips, a crisp pickle and sweet iced tea. Don’t ask me how I knew that, but I did.
A few minutes later, Goetz lumbered through the back door and upon seeing Jake, narrowed his eyes. “Jesus, can’t you go anywhere without this guy hanging on?” muttered Goetz.
“Just sit down and behave,” I replied, patting a seat.
The waitress brought out our food. Goetz didn’t seem surprised that I had ordered for him. He took a huge bite out of the sandwich. “I was starving,” he said, munching his food before taking a big gulp of tea. “Whadja need to see me for?”
“After Addison’s memorial, Lacey Bridges talked to m
e.”
“Yeah?”
“Told me a crazy story that Doreen hired her to seduce Addison so she could divorce him without giving him alimony. That’s a motive for murder.”
“Gave me the same. The problem is that there is no proof either way. There is a prenup that says Doreen has to have cause like abuse or adultery for a divorce; without it, she has to pay Addison a hefty sum.”
“Well there,” I said, slumping back in my seat. “That proves it.”
“Proves nothing. Doreen has never talked to anyone about divorcing Addison . . . not her lawyer, not her daughter, no one. And there is no proof that Lacey Bridges ever had an affair with Addison DeWitt. There are no motel receipts, no love letters, no witnesses, nothing.”
“She said she destroyed the proof.”
“She must have done a good job because I can’t find anything.”
“Now why have you been looking? The medical examiner come back with something odd after you talked to me last?”
Goetz looked around the restaurant before leaning forward. “He had acetylsalicylic acid in his stomach.”
“What’s that?”
“The common aspirin,” interjected Jake. “How much?”
“Not even a full tablet.”
“So what?” I asked.
“Some people are very allergic to aspirin.”
“Are you saying that Addison died from aspirin poisoning?”
“Looks that way.”
“And that means murder?” I whispered, trying to wrap my mind around the news.
“Not necessarily,” confided Goetz. “He could have complained of a headache and someone put an aspirin in his drink and just forgot to tell him, or he took half a pill thinking that such a small amount wouldn’t harm him.”
Jake wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t hear him complain about anything like that. He was telling jokes and seemed fine one minute, and then the next he was having trouble breathing. Besides, if he were truly allergic, he wouldn’t have taken any amount of aspirin. Too risky.”