Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 02 - Dead Ringer

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  “I’ll stay with Aunt Daphine, if you don’t mind.”

  “Actually, I do mind. I’d like to talk to Mrs. Marston alone.”

  Normally I would have done as Junior asked, but not today. Aunt Daphine needed me. I asked, “Is she under arrest?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m staying here. Unless Aunt Daphine wants me to go, that is.”

  “I’d like Laurie Anne to stay,” Aunt Daphine said.

  That settled it as far as I was concerned, and I pulled over a stool for myself. Junior looked grim, but she didn’t argue the point any further, just pulled out a notebook and a ballpoint pen.

  “Mrs. Marston,” Junior began, “I imagine that Laurie Anne has already told you that we found Dorinda Thompson here. She had been shot.” She consulted her watch. “We found her just over an hour ago, and she hadn’t been dead for long. Can you tell me what Ms. Thompson might have been doing here this evening?”

  “I don’t know,” Aunt Daphine said. “The shop closed at five.”

  “Are you sure? I thought that you weren’t here today.”

  “I wasn’t, because I was helping Vasti get her party together, but I did call just before closing time to make sure that everything was all right.”

  “Did you speak to Ms. Thompson then?”

  “No, Gladys said she had left a little early. Dorinda’s bad about that. I mean, she was bad … I mean … I guess it doesn’t make any difference now.”

  I handed Aunt Daphine a tissue from my pocketbook so she could wipe her eyes, and willed Junior to get this over with.

  “Do you suppose it might have been robbery?” Aunt Daphine asked, almost hopefully. “Maybe Dorinda came to get something she forgot and caught a burglar in the act and he shot her.”

  “We thought of that, but your cash register hasn’t been disturbed. In fact, as far as we can tell, nothing at all has been disturbed. Did Ms. Thompson have a key to the shop?”

  Aunt Daphine nodded. “All of the women who work here have keys, because we take turns opening up in the morning.”

  “So Ms. Thompson could have let herself in, and then let her killer in.”

  “She must have,” Aunt Daphine said. “Unless …” I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she went even more pale. “You don’t think that it was one of us that shot her, do you?”

  Junior said calmly, “I’m just trying to work out the circumstances.” She asked Aunt Daphine a lot more questions, mostly about what kind of person Dorinda had been and whether anyone had disliked her. I could tell from the way Aunt Daphine answered that she felt uncomfortable speaking ill of the dead, but I could also tell from the questions that Junior already knew quite a bit about Dorinda.

  Finally Junior said, “I think that’s all I need for now, but I may need you to sign a statement later on.” She looked at me. “Now I’d like to talk to Laurie Anne for a few minutes. Alone, if that’s possible this time.”

  “You go on, Aunt Daphine,” I said. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

  As soon as Aunt Daphine was gone, Junior took her place in the chair and leaned back. “Laurie Anne, if somebody had asked me yesterday whether or not I could trust you, I would have told him that you were as truthful as they come.”

  I squirmed a little but didn’t say anything.

  Junior went on. “What was it, Wednesday when we had our talk? You said that you were checking into something or another, but swore up and down that it didn’t have anything to do with Leonard Cooper’s murder, that you were just trying to help your aunt with a problem. Now a woman has been shot in that aunt’s shop, and I just have a hunch that she was shot with the same gun. Now I’m asking you again. Do you know anything about Leonard Cooper’s murder?”

  I thought for a minute. Was there anything I tell Junior without betraying Aunt Daphine? “Junior, when I spoke to you before,” I said slowly, “I honestly did not think that what I was doing had anything to do with Leonard Cooper. Now I just don’t know. I did think for a while that Dorinda Thompson might have something to do with Aunt Daphine’s problem, but it doesn’t look like she did now.” I wondered if Junior had found out about my visit to Dorinda’s house, and decided that if she didn’t know yet, she would soon. “I even went over to her house Thursday evening with Aunt Nellie and Uncle Ruben, and while they were showing her their water filter, I looked around.”

  “Not strictly breaking and entering,” Junior said. “Should I alert our people that you might have left fingerprints?”

  I nodded unhappily.

  “And did you find anything to connect Mrs. Thompson with your aunt’s problem?”

  I shook my head. “Not a thing.”

  “I’ll be looking over there myself later on, but did you see anything to connect Mrs. Thompson with Leonard Cooper?”

  “Junior you know darned well that I would have told you if I had.”

  “That’s what I would have thought before Mrs. Thompson was killed.”

  “Junior …” I started, but then stopped. What was the use? She wouldn’t believe me now, and I couldn’t blame her. “I’m sure you’ll figure it all out.”

  “I appreciate your confidence,” she said dryly. “I guess that’s all I need for now. You and your husband will be in Byerly for a few more days, won’t you?”

  “We won’t leave town without letting you know,” I said.

  She nodded and I went back into the main room. Aunt Daphine looked concerned when she saw me, but I just said, “Shall we go back to the party?”

  During the drive back to the Walters’s house, I was trying so hard to figure out why someone had killed Dorinda that I didn’t hear what Aunt Daphine said the first go round. “I’m sorry,” I said. “What did you say?”

  “I said that maybe I ought to tell Junior what’s going on after all.”

  “Not now!” I said. A few days ago I would have been tickled to death if Aunt Daphine had offered to go to Junior, but not anymore.

  “But I have to tell Junior now that Dorinda is dead,” she insisted. “There must be some connection.”

  “That’s, why we can’t tell her. Don’t you see? Leonard Cooper knew Uncle John Ward and he might have known that you and he weren’t married, which means that he could have been your blackmailer. That makes you a prime suspect in his murder.”

  “Laurie Anne, you know that I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “Of course I know that, but it would look awfully suspicious.”

  “But I got that note telling me to bring more money after Cooper died.”

  “He could have been working with Dorinda, and maybe they had a falling out. Maybe she wanted to ask for more money, and that’s just what she did once he was out of the way.”

  “Then who killed her?”

  “Junior would think that it was you.”

  “How could I have? I was at the Walters’s house all day.”

  “Could you have snuck out during the party?”

  “I suppose I could have, but Junior knows me too well to think that I would kill somebody.”

  “Are you willing to stake your secret on that? If she takes you in for questioning, the blackmailer will almost certainly find out and then talk to the newspaper. That would kill Arthur’s chances of being elected, if your being questioned didn’t do it first.”

  She looked doubtful.

  “Look, Aunt Daphine, it’s Friday. The election is the Tuesday after next. If we don’t find out something by then, we can go to Junior and tell her without it affecting the election.”

  “All right,” she said, but she didn’t look happy. I wasn’t real happy about the situation, either, but I just didn’t know what else to do.

  Chapter 23

  The party was still going strong when we got back to the Walters’s house, but neither Aunt Daphine nor I were in any mood to enjoy it. I left her in the car and went to find Richard. He was back in his corner on the veranda.

  I tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey there.”

>   He stood to give me a quick hug, and said, “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “I take it you got my note.”

  “Vasti saw me receive it, and it took no small effort to convince her that it was from you and not from an admirer.”

  “Aren’t I an admirer?”

  “I stand corrected.” He lowered his voice. “Is Dorinda really dead?”

  I nodded. “Someone shot her at La Dauphin. You didn’t tell Vasti why we left, did you?”

  “I thought it best not to. I just told her that Aunt Daphine wasn’t feeling well.”

  “That’s true enough. She’s pretty upset, and I think we ought to take her home.”

  “Shall I make our regrets to our hostess?”

  I looked around but didn’t see Vasti. “We probably should, but I don’t want to bother her. Let’s just go. Vasti will hear the news soon enough.”

  We were on our way back to the car when Richard said, “Are you sure Aunt Daphine should be alone tonight?”

  “I didn’t even think of that. The phone is going to be ringing off the hook as soon as people find out what happened, and she doesn’t need that. Maybe we can talk her into staying at Aunt Maggie’s.”

  When we got back to the car, Aunt Daphine’s eyes were red and I knew that she had been crying, but I didn’t want to embarrass her by mentioning it. Instead I said, “As late as it is, why don’t you just come back with us to Aunt Maggie’s? She won’t mind, and it’s closer than your place.”

  It wasn’t really that late, and it was maybe five minutes further to Aunt Daphine’s place, so I imagine she knew what my real reasons were, but all she said was, “That would be nice. I am tired.”

  As if by unspoken agreement, we avoided talking about Dorinda or blackmail or anything like it on the way to Aunt Maggie’s. Instead we talked about Vasti’s party, agreeing that it had been a success.

  “We better keep it quiet when we get to Aunt Maggie’s,” I said as we approached the house. “With the flea market tomorrow, she’s probably already gone to bed.”

  That showed how much I knew. Not only was Aunt Maggie not asleep, she wasn’t even home yet. She didn’t make it in until long after Richard and I had installed Aunt Daphine in a spare bedroom, and had gone to bed ourselves.

  Richard fell asleep right away, but I was trying to stay awake long enough to warn Aunt Maggie about Aunt Daphine being in the house. Despite my good intentions, I had dozed off half a dozen times when I heard voices from downstairs, and crawled out of bed to peer out the door. Aunt Maggie was tip–toeing up the stairs with the cutest grin on her face.

  “Did I wake you?” she asked when she saw me.

  “Not exactly. Did you hear about Dorinda Thompson?”

  She nodded. “Some folks were talking about it down at The Mustang Club.”

  “The Mustang Club? I thought you were at Vasti’s party.”

  “That broke up hours ago, but Big Bill and I weren’t ready to call it a night yet. That man sure can dance.”

  I was distracted for a moment by the idea of Aunt Maggie and Big Bill cutting a rug together, but then remembered why I had stayed awake. “Aunt Daphine was pretty worked up about Dorinda, so we brought her back here. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not,” she assured me. “It must have been terrible for her.” She looked at me sharply. “Laurie Anne, don’t you forget what I said. If you need my help, you just holler. Otherwise, I’ll just mind my own business.” She looked at her watch. “Good Lord, it’s after two. I better get some sleep or I’m never going to make it to the flea market.”

  “You’re not still going, are you?”

  “Of course I am. My regular customers will be looking for me. Besides,” she added with that same cute grin, “Big Bill is going to come by and let me show him around. Would you believe that he has never been to the flea market?” She was shaking her head in amazement as she went to her room.

  I was pretty amazed myself, but for different reasons. I was trying to decide whether or not I would like having Big Bill Walters as a great–uncle when I slipped back into bed beside Richard.

  I never knew whether or not Aunt Maggie made it to the flea market on time the next morning, because Richard and I slept later than we had intended. I’d have slept even longer if I hadn’t heard the phone ring. I stubbed my toe twice on the way to the kitchen, and was not feeling happy when I answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Laurie Anne?” I heard Vasti’s unmistakable voice say. “Is Mama there?”

  “Yes, she is. Is something wrong?”

  “Something wrong? A woman dies in my own mother’s place of business, and I have to hear it from the neighbors. Then when I want to talk to her, I can’t find hide nor hair of her? Does that sound like there’s something wrong?”

  “Good Lord, Vasti, I’m sorry. We didn’t tell you last night because we didn’t want to spoil your party, and we brought Aunt Daphine over here because we didn’t want to leave her alone. I should have called to let you know, but I just didn’t think of it.”

  “Well,” she said, sounding somewhat mollified. “As long as she’s all right.”

  “She’s still asleep as far as I know,” I said, but then I saw Aunt Daphine behind me, wrapped in one of Aunt Maggie’s bathrobes. I mouthed, “Vasti,” and she reached for the phone. “Here she is now, Vasti.”

  I left her talking, and went to check on Richard. He looked cuddly as all get out, and it wasn’t easy to resist the temptation to climb back into bed with him, but I knew that once Vasti knew where Aunt Daphine was, the other Burnettes would soon find out and the rest of Byerly wouldn’t be far behind.

  “Richard?” I said. “Time to get up.”

  He mumbled something Shakespearean.

  “Come on.”

  More mumbles.

  “Tell you what. I’ll go shower, but you have to be up by the time I get up.”

  I think that the next mumble was affirmative.

  Aunt Daphine was still talking to, or rather listening to, Vasti when I went into the bathroom, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had still been on the phone when I got out of the shower. Instead, I found her and Richard in the kitchen scrambling in the refrigerator.

  “What are you two doing?”

  “Looking for something for breakfast,” Aunt Daphine asked. “I know Aunt Maggie doesn’t like to cook, but I thought she’d at least have a carton of eggs.”

  “I can run up to Hardee’s and get us some biscuits,” I offered.

  “I don’t know about you,” Aunt Daphine said, “but I’m in the mood for a real breakfast, and a little old biscuit just isn’t going to do it. Why don’t you go to the store and get some eggs and bacon for me to fix?”

  I started to suggest going out for breakfast, but then I realized that the last thing Aunt Daphine needed was to be around people who had heard about Dorinda. And besides, it might be better for her to keep busy. “You make a list,” I said, “and I’ll go get my pocketbook.”

  Forty–five minutes later, Aunt Daphine was happily frying bacon while Richard whipped eggs and I grated cheese for omelettes. When Aunt Daphine got an urge to cook breakfast, she did it right.

  Like last night, I think we were all reluctant to discuss what was really on our minds. Murder and blackmail just didn’t seem like appropriate topics for Sunday breakfast. Only after the last slice of bacon had been split three ways and eaten, did Aunt Daphine say, “I’ve been thinking about what I should do today.”

  “Do about what?” I asked, thinking that she meant to go see Junior.

  “I’m supposed to deliver the money to the graveyard this afternoon,” she said.

  “That’s right,” I said. In the midst of everything else, I had forgotten. “You’re not still planning to take it, are you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “What do y’all think?”

  “I don’t think you should,” I said. “If Dorinda was the blackmailer, then you’re off th
e hook now.”

  “But how could she have been?” Aunt Daphine asked. “How could she have known?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, more than a little ashamed at how little I had found out. “I feel sure that she was up to something, and she was married to a man who went to Vietnam.”

  “I’m sure that John Ward never told anybody,” Aunt Daphine said. “And we don’t know that Dorinda’s ex–husband even knew John Ward.”

  I nodded, knowing she was right.

  “Besides,” Aunt Daphine persisted, “what if Dorinda wasn’t the blackmailer? Can I risk not paying now? The election’s only a little over a week away.”

  “There’s another consideration,” Richard said. “Junior Norton. From what Laura said last night, Junior thinks that we know more than we’re telling. That means she’s going to be watching us. Especially you, Aunt Daphine.”

  “Come to think of it, I saw Mark Pope in the parking lot when I left the grocery store,” I said. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but I suppose he could have been watching me.”

  “Junior should know better than to think I had anything to do with Dorinda’s death,” Aunt Daphine said indignantly. “I’ve known that girl since she was a baby.”

  Richard shrugged. “She’s a police officer, and she’s suspicious. She’ll be keeping an eye on you, or having someone else do it. If she sees you putting something on Uncle John Ward’s grave, she’s going to want to know what it is, and if Junior gets to it before the blackmailer, she’ll be asking questions. If the blackmailer gets to it first and Junior sees him, that could lead to the whole story coming out. I don’t think you should risk it.”

  “Richard’s right,” I said. “Junior was furious last night. She’s going to be watching us like a hawk. Besides, you don’t have the money. Do you?”

  Aunt Daphine shrugged sadly. “I’ve scraped together what I could, but I’m still two hundred dollars short. If it was for anything else, I’d go to one of my sisters, but I just can’t this time.”

  “Then it’s settled,” I said. “We’ll lay low today, and let Junior get bored with watching us. Who knows? Maybe she’ll find out who killed Dorinda and that it had nothing to do with the blackmail.” I didn’t really believe that, of course, but I was hoping.