Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 08 - Wed and Buried

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  “We won’t. What we’re going to do is make your aunts and cousins very happy.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We’re going to let them take turns baby-sitting.”

  It sounded a bit like Tom Sawyer whitewashing the fence to me, but when we started calling around, my aunts were several steps ahead of us. Like everybody else, they’d assumed that Richard and I were going to help Big Bill, so they’d already started scheduling who got Alice when. Aunt Daphine was that day’s lucky winner.

  As I packed Alice’s bag with diapers, formula, baby food, and teething rings, I had to admit that I was feeling pretty darned good. I was worried about Big Bill and Aunt Maggie, of course, but I couldn’t help but look forward to having time alone with Richard. As much as I loved Alice, and as much fun as motherhood was turning out to be, I still got tired of being “Mama” all the time. The baby books all assured me that my feelings were completely natural, which was even more depressing. As I’d told Junior, I hated being predictable.

  I was a little concerned about how we were going to handle breast-feeding. Though Alice had started on solid foods, I still nursed her several times a day, not to mention the dreaded two A.M. feeding. But, as I told Richard, there was no reason we couldn’t arrange our interrogations around the baby’s schedule.

  The main obstacle still in our way was the fact that Big Bill didn’t want us involved, so Richard and I did a lot of plotting during the drive to drop off Alice at Aunt Daphine’s, and then on to the hospital in Hickory. By the time we got there, we had our approach worked out.

  “Do you think they’ll go for it?” Richard asked as we waited for the elevator to take us to Big Bill’s floor.

  “Do you think I’m going to give them a choice?” I’d said before that Big Bill and Aunt Maggie were as stubborn as mules, but as Richard had pointed out, it was a family trait. I wasn’t planning to take “no” for an answer.

  There was a cluster of people in the waiting room nearest Big Bill’s room. Burt and Dorcas were there, of course, plus some folks I had seen at the party, and Hank Parker, the star reporter from the Byerly Gazette. In fact, he was the only full-time reporter for the twice-weekly paper, but he took his work all the more seriously for that. When he saw Richard and me, he rushed right over, notebook in hand.

  “Miz Fleming, is it true that Big Bill Walters was poisoned last night? And that you were the one to foil the murder attempt?” Hank must have grown up watching ? movies, because he dressed like the relentless reporter characters in thirties and forties detective pictures, right down to the straw boater with a press pass in the brim, which he wore even after Labor Day. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t sharp as a tack—he’d stayed in Byerly because he liked it, not because he couldn’t have gotten a job at a big-city newspaper.

  “Hank, why are you asking me questions when you already know the answers? Didn’t y’all have a reporter at the party?”

  He grimaced. “A stringer, and she only does society news. I don’t need to know what color shirt Big Bill wore in the ambulance.”

  Poor fellow—Big Bill was always big news in Byerly, and for Hank to have missed out on seeing an actual murder attempt must have really hurt.

  “All right,” I said, taking pity on him. “We’ll answer a few questions.”

  “Great! So how did you know it was poison?”

  “Pure, dumb luck.” I explained the article I’d read that described the effects of isopropanol poisoning.

  “Household poisons? That might make a good sidebar for my piece,” he said. “How did Big Bill react? Did he turn to his new bride for comfort? Was he angry, frightened, panicked?”

  He had been a little frantic, but I could hardly blame him for that. “He was quite calm, considering, and did everything Liz told him to. That’s Liz Sanderson. She’s an RN, works over at the nursing home. She’s the one who really saved his life, you know.”

  “Sanderson,” he said, writing it down. “Is she young?”

  “Young, blond, and pretty. She looks great in pictures.”

  “That’s what I want to hear.” Then, careful not to offend, “You’re quite photogenic, too.”

  “Thanks so much,” I said. “Is there anything else?”

  He looked at his notebook. “Not now. Can I count on you two for an exclusive interview once you’ve solved the crime?”

  I sighed—even Hank knew what I was going to do before I did. I didn’t know which was more peculiar: that everybody else in town accepted Richard and me as Scooby-Doo surrogates, or that I couldn’t seem to.

  Richard said, “You bet,” and Hank went away happy.

  Once he was gone, Burt came over and we exchanged air kisses and handshakes.

  “How’s Big Bill?” I asked.

  Burt said, “He’s doing better, but he doesn’t want anybody else in there except Aunt Maggie.” Then, as if realizing that that might sound insulting to Aunt Maggie, he added, “Which is only natural.”

  “I’ll just let them know we came by,” I said, though in fact I had no intention of leaving until we’d spoken to the newlyweds. I tapped on the door, and after Aunt Maggie peered out, she turned back into the room and said, “It’s Laurie Anne and Richard.”

  “Let them in,” said Big Bill.

  His father allowing us in and not him had to have hurt Burt’s feelings, but he just said, “Tell Daddy we’re out here if he needs us.”

  Richard and I went inside, and Aunt Maggie closed the door behind us.

  Big Bill had managed to get what must have been the biggest room in the hospital. Private, of course, and with the dark wood furniture it looked more like a good hotel room then a hospital room. Only the crank on the bed gave it away as hospital equipment. Well, that, the rack of monitors, and the IV stand holding the fluids that were dripping into Big Bill’s arm.

  Big Bill was propped up in the bed, and as we came in he turned down the sound on the TV he had tuned to the Business Channel. His color wasn’t great, but he looked alert, and the monitors all seemed to be happy with his condition.

  “Hey there,” I said. “How are you doing?”

  “A whole lot better than I would be if you hadn’t figured out what was going on,” he said. “I want to thank you, Laurie Anne. You saved my life, and I won’t forget it.”

  “Liz was the one who knew what to do,” I reminded him.

  “She wouldn’t have realized there was anything wrong with me if you hadn’t told her. No, I owe you my life, and Big Bill Walters always pays his debts.”

  If the situation had been different, I’d have politely demurred and told him that it was nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done, but this time I intended to take advantage of his gratitude.

  “If you really mean that…” I said.

  “I never say anything I don’t mean.”

  “Good. Then there is something I want.”

  He looked surprised—I guess he hadn’t been expecting me to ask for a favor quite so quickly—but he said, “Just name it.”

  “Richard and I want to go after the one who’s trying to kill you,” I said. “And we want you and Aunt Maggie to stay put until it’s all over.”

  “Me?” Aunt Maggie said. “I’m not the one in danger.”

  “We don’t know that. The question is, did the killer know that you don’t drink? If he didn’t, then that rubbing alcohol could have been meant for you, too. Until we’re sure, I want both of y’all out of harm’s way while Richard and I take over the investigation. That means that we’re going to be sticking our noses into all kinds of places, including that stack of threatening letters.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Big Bill said. “There’s a lot of things in my files I don’t want coming out.”

  “You said anything,” I reminded him.

  Big Bill huffed and puffed, but Aunt Maggie looked pretty darned tickled. “She’s got you there, Bill,” she said. “After all, you said yourself that Laurie Anne saved your life. You trust her
, don’t you?”

  “It’s not a question of trust,” he said hurriedly, “it’s just that… well, we were making progress on our own.”

  That was baloney and we all knew it, but I didn’t think it would be very tactful to say so. “I’m not saying y’all couldn’t have tied up all the loose ends yourselves, given time, but you can’t investigate when you’re on guard every minute. Nobody could.”

  “Can you two investigate while carting around a baby?” Big Bill said skeptically.

  “We won’t have to. I have four aunts fighting over Alice, not to mention cousins and friends. She’ll be just fine.” And though I wasn’t doing this just to get a break from infant care, it wasn’t something I minded, either.

  I figured if I gave Big Bill more chances to argue, he’d do just that, so I began acting as if it had all been decided. “Richard and I have already started trying to eliminate suspects, and I don’t want to offend you, but the first one we thought about was Burt.”

  I paused to see what he’d say, but his only comment was, “Is that right?”

  “After all,” I said, “he’s your only real heir. But it doesn’t work for us. For one, he’s clearly devoted to you.”

  “When you get to be my age, you’ll learn that people can hide their real feelings,” Big Bill said regretfully.

  “True, but it still may not make sense, depending on whether or not there was poison just in your goblet. Why would Burt kill you, knowing that Aunt Maggie would get everything?”

  “He could have been meaning to kill me later on,” Aunt Maggie suggested.

  “But then Big Bill’s money would have gone to your heirs, right? Burt isn’t your heir.”

  “That’s right,” she said.

  Big Bill said, “If we had both died, the money would have gone to Burt.”

  “Only if Aunt Maggie died first, and there’s no way Burt could have been sure of that. It would have been too big a risk.”

  “You’re right,” Big Bill said, almost happily. “It doesn’t make sense for Burt to try to kill me that way. Or Dorcas, either.”

  I felt obligated to add, “Of course, that only applies if the motive was money. Either Burt or Dorcas could have some other reason for wanting you dead.”

  “Horsefeathers!” Big Bill said. “Anybody can see that they love me. I don’t know why you even wasted time thinking about them.”

  Trust Big Bill to chastise us for thinking something he’d suspected all along. Of course, since he’d never spoken his fears about his son out loud, now he didn’t have to take the words back. “You’re probably right,” I said, “but I still want y’all to be careful. That’s why I want somebody with you.”

  “A bodyguard?” Big Bill said, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. Not now.”

  “Why not? Before, you were trying not to let the killer know you were watching for him. Now everybody knows somebody is trying to kill you.”

  “That’s exactly why I can’t hire a bodyguard. People would think I was afraid. Big Bill Walters is not going to be afraid in his own town!”

  I’d been worried that this would be a sticking point, knowing how much pride the man had. “Lots of men have bodyguards,” I pointed out. “The president doesn’t even go to the bathroom without the Secret Service, and movie stars always have guards. It doesn’t mean that they’re afraid—it means that they’re smart.”

  “That’s different,” he said stubbornly. “This is Byerly. If I don’t go about my business despite this coward trying to cut me down, I’ll never be able to hold my head up again.”

  I sighed, cursing the myth of Southern manhood. Or maybe all men. Of course, Richard wasn’t like most men, which is why he came up with the right answer.

  “That would be reasonable if you were completely recovered from the poison,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Big Bill said. “The doctor says I can go home tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know,” Richard said. “I borrowed Laura’s laptop this morning and did some research on the Web. Isopropanol poisoning can be tricky. Sometimes people go into comas.”

  “I’m not going into any coma!” Big Bill said.

  “People can slip into them unexpectedly,” Richard said, “but even if you don’t, you might take a long time to recover. Nobody would expect a sick man to think about business. In fact, an important man like you should get round-the-clock care, even if you’re not in the hospital. You’ll want to get a staff of private duty nurses to watch you at home, and of course your new wife will want to stay with you, too.”

  I looked at Richard admiringly, then added, “If you weren’t really as sick as people thought you were, it would make a dandy trap for the killer. If you wouldn’t be scared of setting yourself up that way, that is.”

  “Let him come!” Big Bill said. “I’ll show him what a sick old man can do.” But he added, “Of course, these nurses might better be a little tougher than average.”

  “As a matter of fact, I have somebody in mind, and she’s considerably tougher than average,” Richard said.

  Big Bill nodded at me, I nodded back at him, and Richard nodded at both of us. Aunt Maggie just grinned. We were in business!

  Chapter 8

  We still had details to iron out, of course. For one, if Big Bill was going to pretend to be sicker than he really was, his doctor was going to have to be involved. When I brought it up, Big Bill said, “I can handle Dr. Patel.” I didn’t know if he was going to bully Dr. Patel or bribe him, but either way, I didn’t have to worry about that detail.

  Then there were the nurses. I’d thought that Richard intended to enlist some of my aunts or cousins, but he had an actual nurse in mind. Vivian Foster was a retired Army nurse Richard had met a while back, and they’d become friends when they discovered that they shared a love of English literature. True, Vivian preferred Jane Austen to Shakespeare, but Richard didn’t hold that against her. Anyway, like Dr. Patel, Vivian was going to have to know that Big Bill wasn’t as sick as we wanted people to think, and if she was going to successfully play bodyguard, she had to know what was going on. Besides, it wouldn’t be right to put her in the line of fire without warning her.

  Richard called her, and in the course of a messy five-way conversation, we told Vivian enough of the story to get by. Byerly being Byerly, she’d already heard about Big Bill’s poisoning and had already figured that he might still be a target. She agreed to watch him, and knew a couple of other ex-Army nurses who could work shifts with her. She even said that she’d arrange for some medical equipment to have at the house as camouflage. The only kicker was that in addition to her usual pay rate, Vivian wanted Big Bill to help raise money for the VFW’s veterans support group. Since my cousin Augustus was in that support group, Aunt Maggie told Big Bill he ought to help the group anyway, so he was willing to go along.

  Once all that was arranged, Richard and I started picking Big Bill’s brains for people who wanted him dead. Unfortunately, he said he didn’t know of anybody. Though he freely admitted he had plenty of enemies, and had made an awful lot of sharp business deals during his career, he just couldn’t conceive of anybody wanting him dead as a result.

  “What about disgruntled employees at the mill?” I asked.

  “Burt’s been running the show over there for years,” Big Bill pointed out. “If it was anything to do with the mill, it would have happened long ago.”

  “What about something from that far back, like with the union?” Big Bill had fought hard against the union coming to the mill, and he hadn’t always fought fair.

  But Aunt Maggie said, “Laurie Anne, if anybody from the union has reason to hold a grudge against Bill, it’s me, and I can guarantee I’m not trying to kill him.”

  “Of course not,” Big Bill put in. “There’s no way she could have been driving the truck that tried to run me over.”

  Aunt Maggie turned on him. “You suspected me?”

  He looked embarrassed. “Not for very long.” />
  She didn’t look angry, just exasperated.

  Given the circumstances, I couldn’t blame him for considering everybody a suspect.

  “Is there anything more recent?” Richard asked.

  Big Bill shook his head. “Not a thing. I’ve got some deals going, of course—there’s always deals going—but nothing to get anybody stirred up. The biggest one right now is renovating that apartment complex I told you about, and I’ve not heard one complaint about that.”

  The first thing I needed to know was who would benefit from Big Bill’s death, and I already had the answer to that. At least, I thought I did. Maybe other people had a financial interest. As much money and all as he had, his will was likely to be a complicated document. “What about your will?” I said. “Who gets what?”

  Big Bill didn’t answer until Aunt Maggie said, “Bill, if you’re not going to answer their questions, they’re not going to be able to help.”

  “All right,” he said, though I could tell that he hated the idea of talking about such things.

  “If it’s any help, Laura and I promise to keep whatever you tell us completely confidential,” Richard said.

  Big Bill waved it away. “I know you two won’t spread my business around. I’m just used to keeping my business to myself.” Then he smiled fondly at Aunt Maggie. “Of course, I need to change that now that I’ve got a wife to think of.”

  Aunt Maggie snorted.

  “Which will do you need to know about?” Big Bill said. “I wrote a new one after Maggie and I tied the knot.”

  “Since the murder attempts started before y’all were married, let’s start with the old one,” I said.

  “Good enough. It was pretty simple. Most of the money, the house, and all the businesses were left to Burt. My wife’s—that is, my first wife’s—jewelry and furs were to go to Dorcas, along with a couple of personal things of mine and some money.” Richard raised one eyebrow, and Big Bill looked almost embarrassed as he named a dollar amount. He quickly added, “Dorcas has been taking care of the house and entertaining for me ever since my first wife died, and I wanted to give her a little something of her own.”