Too Close For Comfort (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 9)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  Tony reached out to help everyone get a good foothold to get off the boat. When we were all safely gathered at the base of the footpath leading through the woods, half of us flicked on our tiny flashlights to illuminate the ground. We walked in tight pairs. Since I was familiar with the terrain more so than the others, I led with Martha as my partner. Then Hazel and Betty were paired. Tony, at his insistence, brought up the rear. Thankfully, it was a short distance.

  I had warned them beforehand to watch out for fallen trees, displaced rocks, and low-slung branches. After a few missteps we arrived at the backyard stockade fencing, our flashlights illuminating its base. We then slowly paced the length of it to see if there were any telltale clues.

  “I don’t know what I was really expecting to see,” I whispered, somewhat disappointed. “But I guess after ten years it looks like most everything has settled into place back here.”

  Tony came up behind me. “Approximately where did you see someone making digging motions?”

  I placed my back to the house and faced lakeside, trying to imagine myself at the window, looking out.

  “It was to the right of the gate if you were coming from the backyard toward the lake, edging Bill’s property.”

  I took a few steps until I was standing exactly where I thought I had seen someone digging. We all stared down, seeing nothing but a thick blanket of leaves forming a mulch-like bed of rotted leaves with newly fallen ones on top of it.

  I dragged my foot, trying to make a clearing. “It’s been ten years. There’s no way to tell if anything is there or not. Or if it’s the exact spot where I saw it happen.”

  Tony kept it positive. “I say we try anyway.”

  With three shovels between us, we took turns scraping and pitching into the damp soil with our shovels. It was a slow go but we kept at it, trying to be as quiet as possible.

  After thirty minutes of digging in the mucky, clay soil, Martha said, “Hey, I think I hit something! Listen up! ”

  We all heard the tap, tap of her shovel against something when she gently hit against whatever was buried there.

  Tony said, “Stand back. Let me dig the rest of it up.”

  We circled around Tony, not wanting to miss a thing when he unearthed whatever was buried there. We were sweating, but Tony was perspiring more as he dug deeper and deeper, making a channel around what appeared to be a rectangular wooden box about four feet long.

  Tony leaned on his shovel, “Almost looks like a coffin.”

  “Do you think it’s his wife?” Hazel asked warily.

  “Trust me, she wasn’t height-challenged,” said Martha.

  “Well, it’s too short to be human remains,” said Betty.

  “Maybe they were cut to fit,” suggested Tony.

  Our imaginations took over as we sucked in air.

  “So what do you think we have?” I finally asked.

  “We have trespassers on my property, that’s what!”

  We quickly flicked our flashlights off and turned around to face the voice holding a blinding flashlight...and a gun.

  Chapter 41

  Digging Up The Truth

  Who needed Martha’s covert spy smudges? We were covered in dirt from head to toe from digging that hole and sweating profusely. We were all a sticky mess. Blinded by the light, no one said a word at first, shocked at being caught red-handed in the middle of the night on private property, somewhere near the pine barrens, while holding shovels.

  Trust me, this was not good.

  There were a few clearing of throats, but that was it.

  “Care to explain this?” asked a raspy male voice.

  Martha, her spikey white hair standing out like a beacon amongst all that dirt, stepped to the forefront. “I know how odd this looks and can clarify why we’re all here, and...”

  “Martha? You know, you gave me quite a jolt,” said Bill, lowering his flashlight so we could all see who was speaking. “I thought I heard noises out here. Just to be sure, I thought I’d check it out before calling the cops.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I swear Hazel blessed herself again.

  No one moved, as we all stared down at the unearthed wooden box not sure what came next. That was when Bill saw what was laying there under the beam of his flashlight.

  He frowned. “I see you discovered my little secret.”

  I finally found my voice. “It was just a matter of time before someone did, don’t you think?” I said with bravado.

  Then Bill did something totally unexpected. He laughed. “Better come on up to the house and I’ll tell you all about it over a cup of coffee.” He then motioned with his gun for us to get moving toward his house. He looked downward. “I’ll cover up that grave later.” He chuckled. “I bet my end of this story tops yours for being here in the first place.”

  Hazel held tightly onto Betty, stumbling forward. “This covert business is not what it’s cracked up to be.”

  Martha whispered, “Well, it’s not covert anymore. Plus he’s laughing! He sounds crazier than a bed bug.”

  Betty gave Hazel a reassuring hug, murmuring, “I doubt he’ll make us dig our own graves. We’re too old, dear.”

  “You don’t suppose he’ll want a graveside service first, do you?” whispered Martha. “Maybe in all his rushing with that burial, he didn’t have time for a proper one when he did Mary in. After all, we are dressed for it, all in black.”

  I had to quiet them. They were all nervous-talking and might draw Bill’s attention to us. “Shush! Keep it together, okay? He wouldn’t try anything, there are too many of us.”

  “Like shooting ducks on a pond,” Martha mumbled.

  I took one last look longingly down the trail that led to the boat, sighed, then reluctantly walked through Bill’s gate into his backyard. Tony nudged me to keep moving. Bill was right behind him, talking a mile a minute, about how unexpectedly this all played out, and how funny it was.

  But we weren’t laughing.

  Chapter 42

  Hounding Him For The Truth

  After we washed up at the sink, we reluctantly sat down for coffee and waited for Bill to get comfortable after he ambled about, searching, he said, for his picture album.

  He took pictures? Were we about to see before and after shots of what was buried outside his backyard gate? Sick.

  Bill set his gun on his lap then opened the album, and after flipping through several pages, he smiled. “Here she is, my baby, who’s buried out there,” he said proudly.

  Martha choked out, “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “We both figured that, but Mary made me promise I’d bury her here. I folded her up real nice in Mary’s quilt. I had no choice but to sneak out one night and bury her in the back woods after dark.”

  I shuddered involuntarily. “So it was you I saw that one summer night burying something in the woods.”

  “I wasn’t sure, but thought I saw your silhouette in the window. Next thing I knew, you’d moved out. I could have invited you to my graveside service.”

  Betty said, “A cemetery would have been more tasteful.”

  “And legal,” added Hazel, righteously.

  The guy was totally creeping us all out, even Tony, who couldn’t understand how calm the guy was confessing this.

  “What was the harm?” Bill asked. “It was our little secret. Have a look. Her name was Tawny Fawn.”

  Dazed, all Martha said was, “Was that her nickname?”

  Bill swung the album around and shoved it across the table. Tony, leaned in then us. We sat there openmouthed, now staring at multiple pictures of a dog, a sizable one.

  “Our baby, Fawn,” Bill said proudly. “Her show name was Tawny Fawn of Yarmouth. She was an Afghan Hound, weighed at about eighty-five pounds of pure beauty.”

  Nobody could speak at first. It was a dog!

  I was incredulous. “You buried your pet in the woods?”

  “We both knew it was illegal, but did it anyway. It made Mary so happy at the end b
efore she passed.”

  I leaned back, relaxing, as did the others. He was a little off the charts, but no killer. I hadn’t witnessed a burial from murder after all. Just someone burying their pet illegally.

  After I explained my end of the story, which was the flip side of Bill’s, we had a good laugh over the whole matter.

  “I guess my journal writing was too descriptive and mysterious,” I said laughing. “I got carried away.”

  Bill nodded. “I can see why you were so concerned."

  Tony got up, frowning. “I have a boat to return, ladies.”

  I gave him a second look and rose myself. “He’s right.”

  We passed by the coffin on our way to the canoe. Tony hustled us in and quickly shoved off from the pier.

  “Tony, what was bothering you back there?” I asked.

  “I saw a picture on Bill’s mantle. It was of Marilyn.”

  There was dead silence. Not even a cricket chirped.

  Chapter 43

  Surprise, Surprise

  We were still debating the significance of Tony spotting Marilyn’s picture on Bill’s mantle the next day at breakfast down in the kitchen over coffee. Tony had let himself in and brewed a pot for us in addition to bringing donuts.

  I eyed Tony. “Just when I figured Bill was innocent of any wrongdoing, you go and see that picture on his mantle, raising more concerns in this complicated mess.”

  “I have more news too,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Didn’t I mention, I’m not accepting any bad news today? I’ve had my fill, don’t you think?”

  “This concerns the tax office on that rental,” he said.

  I held up my hand. “First let me tell you what I learned online and from that original realtor,” I said.

  He sat back, drinking his coffee. “By all means. Go.”

  “The deceased couple, who were the prior owners, owned that rental five years before I came along. They’d gotten into financial trouble and were trying to scrape extra money together. That’s where I entered the picture.

  “The real estate agent worked a short-term deal for my cheap rental, while the two owners separated and went back and forth with the bank. But my temporary lease was cut short after only half a summer because the owners didn’t cough up the rest of the money they owed.

  “So I was ousted in favor of a new buyer who was willing to pay cash for the house at a vastly discounted price. What none of us knew was that the former owners unfortunately died before the final foreclosure/sale deal. So the bank was held up by the estate and the probate court.

  “Meanwhile, the bank was looking for some kind of compensation while things were being settled. Because of the delay, they were going to lose their cash buyer. So the court allowed the bank to do another short term rental until it was settled. That was why the house was not legally sold and closed on until the fall.”

  “So, did you find out who the renter was?” Betty asked.

  “No.”

  “And the buyer, who closed in the fall?” asked Martha.

  “Marilyn Chambers,” I said.

  “And she’s been the owner ever since then,” said Hazel.

  I nodded. “Correct.”

  Tony raised his hand, smiling. “My turn?”

  I nodded again. “Go for it.”

  “I did as I was told and sweet-talked the tax office first, who then referred me to a sweet old lady, who happened to be the last realtor who arranged the short rental in between you and Marilyn, who closed on the property that fall.”

  But then Tony paused and just smiled again, waiting.

  “You look like a Cheshire cat who ate a mouse,” I said.

  “You’re killing us here,” said Martha.

  “Young man, it’s impolite to make us wait,” said Betty.

  “If I tell you, what do I get in return?” he asked.

  Hazel tsked. “Our eternal gratitude.”

  “Tough audience,” said Tony.

  “But a very appreciative one,” I said, smiling.

  He grinned. “That renter was none other than Anne Baxter.”

  Chapter 44

  MIA

  After that surprise settled in, I turned to Hazel and Betty. “I’m almost afraid to ask if you have good or bad news from your visit to the rehab center.”

  “Depends,” said Hazel. “It was a sudden encounter.”

  “That was attention-grabbing,” added Betty.

  “Come on, fill me in,” I told them both.

  “A Mrs. Fletcher,” said Betty, “overheard Marilyn and Anne having words, standing where everyone’s jacket gets hung up by the front door where you enter rehab.”

  “And I was on that one treadmill, right near there,” said Hazel. “We both heard raised voices and turned to look.”

  “Sounds to me like a possible cat fight,” said an amused, but intrigued, Tony, listening intently.

  The four of us women just stared at him in silence.

  He shrugged. “Hey, guys find that stuff entertaining.”

  “What then?” I asked Hazel and Betty impatiently.

  Betty said, “Most of what they said wasn’t clear, but at the end, Mrs. Fletcher said their voices grew louder.”

  Hazel nodded in agreement. “Out of nowhere, Phil came over and told them to please discuss it outside. He didn’t want the atmosphere of the rehab center disrupted. Then he walked back to what he was doing.”

  Martha harrumphed. “Atmosphere? A candlelit morgue has more atmosphere. Why, I would suggest...”

  I cut Martha off. “Let’s focus and stay on topic, please.”

  “Mrs. Fletcher heard Anne tell Marilyn she didn’t know what she was talking about and was mistaken,” said Betty.

  “That’s what I heard then they whispered and parted,” said Hazel. “Marilyn walked out red-faced and Anne went back to doing her exercises after a brief chat with Phil.”

  “I can just picture Phil bristling at these two women disturbing the calm atmosphere he tries to maintain at the center,” I said. “Although after that one disastrous day of mishaps with his three patients, maybe he’d had enough mayhem. He must have been quite upset and saw fit to stop it before it possibly escalated into something worse.”

  “It could have,” agreed Hazel. “Afterward there was a lot of tongue-wagging going on.”

  I understood completely. “I’ve always known Phil to be nothing but courteous, professional, mild-mannered, and kind when dealing with patients. And he probably regretted even being that firm with the two when he broke them up.”

  Martha, eyed me. “His center is quite an investment. I bet he would be willing to cooperate to protect it, don’t you agree, Sam?”

  I smiled at her, while nodding in agreement.

  Again another point well-taken and noted on my part.

  Chapter 45

  Which Got Me Thinking

  That confrontation between Anne and Marilyn got me thinking. Although I was reluctant to consider dragging Phil into this case, I didn’t think keeping him out was a wise move either. If I were to make headway it might make sense at this point to involve him to get some feedback.

  He might be able to give me some unvarnished and clear-cut opinions on what he knew about these people. I didn’t necessarily need him to violate any HIPPA laws, but if Phil knew what was going on then maybe indirectly he could help me gain further footing in solving what this is all about.

  I arranged to meet him for coffee away from rehab to keep any unnecessary gossip from flourishing. I’d keep it short and to the point, so he could get back to work. When I explained on the phone it wouldn’t be prudent to speak at rehab because it involved a case I was working on, he quickly understood and we arranged to meet at Giggleberry Fair, Peddler’s Village, by the carousel.

  It was an indoor carousel, lined by arcades and games for families with small children, and featuring a snack bar and plenty of tables. It was noisy and crowded, which was just what I wanted so no one could o
verhear us. The sounds of dinging games and laughing kids riding the carousel overrode all conversation. In addition, no one would even consider that to be a meeting place.

  It was pure chaos when I arrived. So it was perfect!

  Amid all the bedlam I spotted Phil. He was waving to get my attention, already seated at a table with an extra cup of coffee for me. I zigzagged my way over, dodging running kids and mothers pushing carriages, and sat down.

  He glanced at his watch then said, “What’s this about?”

  “I’ll get right to the point,” I said, sitting down.

  He quirked his brow. “Now you have me intrigued.”

  “Look, I’ll be frank here. I’m working on a situation and your rehab center is somehow playing a part. I...”

  Phil raised a hand to stop me. “Whoa, there! I run a tight ship there, and, I may add, an honest one.”

  I couldn’t explain what I wasn’t sure of yet. “Listen, it doesn’t involve you or your rehab center directly, just two people who go there. I’ve gotten myself dragged into something that could end up being a threat to me.”

  I didn’t want to mention my ransom note either.

  “I hope you’ll trust me when tell you I can’t really say much about the case until I have more facts. But in the interim, I’ve been threatened and don’t like it.”

  Phil considered what I said. “I don’t know about this.”

  “I don’t want to violate any HIPPA laws and understand any reluctance on your part concerning that end of it. But the two people involved in this are Marilyn and Anne.”

  He leaned back then said, “What do you need?”

  I smiled in relief. “Other than the other day’s clash with them, have you noticed other interactions between them?”

  “To be honest? Other than them deciding who’d hand out those cookies that one day, no, I can’t say I have.”