Murder on the Mullet Express

by Gwen Mayo

  “But we know he did eat or drink something. The savin was ingested.”

  “We need someone who was near him on the train. Someone besides Uncle Percival. Someone who might have unknowingly witnessed the poisoning.”

  Teddy shrugged. “We’ve questioned every potential witness here. The Carsons rode in the other railcar. We’ll need to go to the new hotel. Perhaps Mr. Hofstetter is still there. He rode in the other car, too, but he spotted Janzen before then. He could have seen something.”

  “No luck there. The sheriff released him.”

  “Drat. Well, there’s the man’s binder boy.”

  “Yes,” Cornelia replied. “Let’s give our favorite driver a call in the morning.”

  Mitch was outside and ready to escort the ladies to the new hotel long before Teddy found a hat she thought serious enough to wear while she questioned potential murderers.

  Cornelia’s attempts to help with the selection were useless. Her companion didn’t value her opinion when making fashion choices. After a quarter of an hour, she gave up and joined Mitch beside the sedan.

  “I thought Miss Theodora was accompanying you,” he said.

  “She’ll be down shortly.”

  Mitch waited for further explanation, but none was forthcoming. “Whom are you planning to question at the hotel?” he asked after a minute or so.

  Cornelia ignored his question.

  “Look,” Mitch said, “I’ve leveled with you. Now you need to level with me.”

  Teddy picked that moment to stroll out of the hotel in an ensemble that stopped conversation. Her “serious” hat turned out to be a pale gray fedora that belonged to the professor. Teddy paired it with a smart blue silk suit and grey oxfords. Cornelia noticed that Teddy had also appropriated her white silk scarf to use as a cravat, no doubt to hide the ruffles on her blouse.

  “How did you get that hat?” Cornelia asked, when Teddy joined them. “Uncle Percival’s room is a crime scene.”

  “It was at the front desk. The manager gave it to me yesterday. I’m sure the professor won’t mind.”

  Mitch coughed to cover a chuckle.

  Cornelia’s shoulders squared. Her glare sucked all humor from the moment.

  “You look marvelous, Miss Theodora,” he said. “I’m sure suspects will be unable to resist telling you their darkest secrets.”

  “What dark secrets are you hiding?” Cornelia asked.

  “None; it leaves my mind open for other peoples’,” Mitch replied. “Where are we headed?”

  “Nowhere, it seems.” Teddy said, as the sheriff’s car pulled in beside them.

  “Sorry to delay you ladies,” Sheriff Bowden said, as he climbed out of his car, “but I need to ask you about some things.”

  Cornelia waited.

  “When you entered the sickroom, what state was it in? Neat, messy?”

  “Overall, the room was neat,” Cornelia said. “The bed and area surrounding it were less so. Illness, especially nausea, tends to supersede tidiness.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He made a note. “Where were his suitcase, his clothing, and so forth?”

  She had to stop to think about that. “His property wasn’t uppermost on my mind. His suitcase was in the closet, some coats were hanging there. Oh, and he had a bag of toiletries in the bathroom. Razor, mustache brush, and the like.”

  “Very good. I’d hate to see what you would remember if it had been uppermost in your mind. Do you recall another bag? A briefcase, perhaps?”

  Teddy spoke up. “I do. It was next to the suitcase in the closet. I saw it when I was looking for clean sheets. There were none there, and I had to go to the front desk for more.”

  Bowden updated his notes. “You can confirm that the briefcase was there?”

  “Indeed, quite handsome, too. It was made of red leather and the straps had gold buckles.”

  “You have an eye for pretty things.”

  “Yes, she does,” Cornelia said. “Since you asked specifically about the briefcase, I presume something has happened to it?”

  “We released the room this morning, and Deputy Davidson collected Mr. Janzen’s personal property,” Bowden said. “The register says he had three bags, but only two were present in the room.”

  “And his binder boy told you that the briefcase was missing?” She tried to remember if Helen Minyard had been carrying anything when she left the room. No, the only thing Cornelia saw in her mental picture was a shoulder bag. That wouldn’t have been large enough to hide a briefcase.

  “I was unable to interview the binder boy. Mr. Janzen was supposed to be a land speculator, though, and I’ve never seen a land speculator that didn’t carry his paperwork with him. So, I figured it was a briefcase.”

  “How clever,” Teddy said.

  “You weren’t able to interview the lad?” Cornelia remembered the blond boy, the one who had rushed into the crowded great hall of the Homosassa Hotel. “His command of English wasn’t very good, but I speak some German. Perhaps I could help translate for you.”

  “Language isn’t the problem. The binder boy’s name was Dani Hegstad?”

  Cornelia nodded.

  “He’s gone missing.”

  “Missing?” Her face reflected the disbelief in her voice. “He was so helpful and concerned when he came looking for a doctor to help Mr. Janzen. Why would such a responsible young man go anywhere? You made it perfectly clear that nobody was allowed to leave.”

  Sheriff Bowden leaned back against the door of his car and took off his hat. His gaze met Cornelia’s. “That didn’t stop your uncle from traipsing off, did it?”

  “So you think he’s on the lam?” Teddy said.

  “Theodora! Where do you pick up such language?”

  “Don’t be an old fuddy-duddy, Corny. It’s the twentieth century.”

  Now he’s got her calling me that.

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “Don’t worry ladies; I’ve got two deputies out looking for him, and we’ve contacted Ocala and Jacksonville. He won’t get far. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work.”

  Cornelia turned her attention to Mitch. “I am sorry to have wasted your time. It appears we won’t be needing a driver after all.”

  “I do,” Teddy said. “If we aren’t going to grill that binder boy, it’s time to do some shopping.”

  “Please, not more clothing. There’s no room in the car.”

  “Kathleen and her aunt were discussing a new golfing outfit last night. I’m not a golfer, but you and your uncle play. We’ll just have a look around for a belated birthday present. Our gift was going to be a swell party, but the sheriff squashed that. Besides, if we bump into Mrs. Minyard, you could ask her advice about what to buy.”

  “What are you going to do while I’m talking to Mrs. Minyard?”

  “Question her niece. And, afterwards, we’re going to put the hotel on standby for Monday. If your uncle gets sprung, we’re going to have that birthday party.”

  Teddy spotted Kathleen the instant they walked through the door of the hotel’s pro shop. The young blonde was standing outside the ladies’ dressing room looking bored. As they approached, Kathleen’s aunt stepped out of the dressing room wearing a smart sports ensemble that made Teddy think she should take up golf just to show off her legs in those knee socks and short pants.

  “I’m not sure this is appropriate for someone my age,” she heard Mrs. Minyard say as they approached.

  “Nonsense, Aunt Helen.” Kathleen replied. “The square neck and long waist suit you. You look smashing.”

  “Smashing is not the look I intended. I need to find something a little less...”

  “Revealing,” Cornelia replied.

  “Exactly,” Helen said, retreating to the dressing room.

  Teddy opened her purse and lifted her flask enough for Kathleen to see. “I was thinking of going to the clubhouse for lemonade while Cornelia looks for a birthday present for her uncle. Would you like to join me?”

>   “Aunt Helen wants me to help her find a new golfing outfit.”

  “It appears that your aunt doesn’t agree with your taste any more than Cornelia does mine.”

  “You have excellent taste, Teddy dear, but smashing isn’t my look either.” Cornelia turned to Kathleen. “If you will keep Theodora out of trouble, I would be happy to help your aunt find a golfing outfit more to her liking.”

  The clubhouse provided some welcome coolness from the morning sun. Teddy and Kathleen ordered lemonade before choosing comfortable seats. When the tall glasses arrived, they both sipped the cool liquid. Then, Teddy took the flask out and added a liberal dose of Mr. Scroggins' best to both drinks. Kathleen stirred it, took a sip, and licked her lips.

  "That's a little warm going down."

  "The ice helps. On the bright side, it makes it a little sweeter."

  Their conversation started with fashion; Kathleen complimented Teddy on her choice of hats, and Teddy asked her opinion on henna combs. The girl squinted at her, clearly forming a mental picture, and then laughed.

  "I think it would turn your hair entirely orange. Like a carrot."

  “Oh, that wouldn’t do at all.”

  Once they were through with fashion, their talk turned to other people. Kathleen's overbearing mother, the admirable if alarming gall of the professor, and Chago. Especially Chago. Kathleen thought he was exciting and dashing and colorful.

  “A life with Chago wouldn't be boring,” Teddy said, “but it would be also be dangerous.”

  The girl stirred her drink with the long spoon provided. “You don’t seem to put up with boredom well yourself. You ran away from finishing school to become a nurse and travel the world. These are modern times, though, and girls get to have more fun. What would you do, if you were my age today? Would you be a nurse again, or would you marry?”

  “I would be a nurse.” Teddy didn’t even have to think about it. “Too much focus is still put on a woman getting married, and not on her personal value.”

  The blonde grinned. “You mean you wouldn’t latch onto Chago in a heartbeat?”

  Teddy laughed and laughed. When she recovered herself, she said, “It’s fun to flirt with young men when one knows nothing will come of it. Certainly less risky. I think our friend would be happier, though, with a more domestic sort. He leads an exciting life and needs a refuge. I don’t think he realizes it yet.”

  “Oh.” Kathleen looked disappointed.

  “Don’t despair. There are plenty of ambitious young men looking for an ally, rather than a refuge. But I need to change the subject,” Teddy said. “You know that we’re trying to find out who killed Mr. Janzen.”

  “Aunt Helen didn’t do it, if that’s what you think. She hated him, but she wanted the watch more. She couldn’t get it back if she didn’t even know if he still had it.”

  “I believe you,” Teddy said. “But we need to learn more about Raymond Janzen himself. You are old enough to remember the years he was close to your aunt and uncle. Did you meet him?”

  “Yes, we visited often. I remember Ray. He was tall and dark-haired and full of exciting stories. I had a horrible crush on him.”

  This produced a smile. “You do like the rogues, don’t you?”

  “I stopped liking him after he ruined my uncle.”

  “Did you recognize him on the train?”

  “Yes, although Aunt Helen turned away. I guess she thought he would recognize her. I sort of hoped he’d recognize me, but he didn’t seem to. Not what a girl wants, to not be remembered.”

  “He thought of you as a little girl.”

  Kathleen’s lips turned down. “I tried my best to make him think of me as more than that. I wore my prettiest dresses, even stole my mother’s lipstick so I could put it on after we got to my aunt’s house. I got a walloping for that later, but Ray thought it was cute. He said I looked like a girl he used to date.”

  Teddy’s hand tightened on her drink. “Did he tell you about her?”

  “Oh, I was mad with jealousy,” she replied. “I wanted to know how old she was, where she lived, was she married to someone else, was she blonde like me—everything, so I’d know what he liked.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He’d known her when he lived in Virginia, before the Great War. She had redder hair than mine, and she liked to hike in bloomers.”

  “Did he tell you her name?”

  “No, he wouldn’t, but I asked. He wouldn’t say more than that, just that they’d broken up and that’s why he went to war. I bet he lied about that, too!”

  I bet he did.

  Chapter 13

  Monday morning came early, especially for Teddy. She hadn’t gone dancing for a change, but both she and Cornelia had lain awake for hours, discussing what they’d learned and how to find out more. Plus, of course, what would happen if Cornelia’s uncle were held over for trial. The professor had been thrown in jail many times in his youth, mostly for disturbing the peace with his inventions, but his bout with pneumonia had given his niece a good scare. Teddy thought privately that the elderly man wasn’t quite as fragile as Cornelia thought, but she didn’t want to be proven wrong.

  Cornelia was up and dressed before Teddy had even finished washing her face. “Hurry; we need to leave for the arraignment,” she announced, poking her head into the bathroom. “It’s a good thing Uncle Percival brought a down payment; it may have to double as bail. At least if they let him have bail.”

  “They’ll let him have bail, I’m sure,” Teddy said soothingly. “I’ll hurry.” In the room across from theirs, she could hear movement—footsteps and the thump of suitcases. She wouldn’t get to say goodbye to Kathleen, but they had exchanged addresses.

  Once she was finished with her morning ablutions, she selected a dark blue suit from the wardrobe. Cornelia paced—or, rather, stomped—around their room while Teddy dressed.

  “The sheriff may not have as much influence in deciding the charges as he would like,” the older woman mused aloud. “If they charge Uncle Percival with murder, they could keep him locked up until Judge Bullock arrives next month.”

  Teddy adjusted her hose and stepped into her Mary Janes. She wondered if she would be permitted to put a dusting of makeup on her face. “In that case, we bring his attorney down here and make them set some sort of bail for him. He’s not Al Capone.”

  “He may die before then.” Cornelia was clenching her hands again. Poor thing, she was really fretting.

  “Not with us to watch over him,” Teddy said. “Why don’t you go get Mitch?”

  After Cornelia left, Teddy applied some powder and a little lipstick. The occasion was somber, but a good appearance never hurt a situation.

  The sign on the outskirts of town proclaimed the population of Inverness as 1270. Cornelia was certain that there were more people than that crowded around the courthouse. The courthouse dome rose from a human sea that filled the town square and swallowed up the surrounding streets. Uncle Percival’s arraignment must have been the most excitement the county had seen in quite some time.

  Mitch leaned on the horn. Still, they crept a few feet, stopped, then edged a little further down the street. He got them as close as he could to the courthouse before giving up.

  “Sorry, ladies,” he said. “The crowd is twelve deep in every direction. We’re going to have to hoof it from here.” He pushed the driver side door open, dislodging the three men leaning against it.

  By the time he reached Cornelia’s door, the press had spotted them. Cameras flashed in their faces as the women climbed out of the car. Mitch moved between them and the closest reporters. The look in his eyes as he moved to Teddy’s right side told Cornelia that Mitch took perverse pleasure in blocking his rivals’ shots.

  “Stick close to me Miss Theodora,” he said, offering her his arm. “I’ll make sure none of these goons trample you.”

  Cornelia frowned when Teddy draped herself around the proffered arm. Since when had either of them ne
eded a protector?

  Instead, she stepped in front of them. “Make way,” Cornelia commanded, in a tone that would have made General Pershing step out of her way.

  At least a dozen men leapt aside, making a path for her.

  Mitch couldn’t hide a grin when he saw a couple of the boys snap to attention as Cornelia marched past them toward the courthouse steps.

  A young deputy stopped her at the door.

  Cornelia glared at him. Her square jaw clamped tight.

  He swallowed hard, but stood his ground. “The courthouse is full, ma'am," he said. “You’ll have to wait outside.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Cornelia snapped. “My uncle needs me to post bail.”

  “No offence, ma'am, but I’ve heard from about every sort of relative this morning. For a tin canner, the old guy's got more relatives here than about anybody I know.”

  “Young man, I don't know what sort of people you associate with, but I do not lie. I am Cornelia Pettijohn. Professor Percival Pettijohn is my uncle. Now either let us pass, or call your superior out here to identify us. Sheriff Bowden has spoken to us many times during his investigation.”

  The deputy hesitated for a second, and then stepped aside.

  “Thank you,” she said, as she opened the door.

  Mitch and Teddy followed close behind.

  Cornelia enjoyed seeing disappointment circulate through the gallery when the bailiff announced the presiding judge. It was the twentieth century! How could people still look for entertainment in the misery of others? Her uncle’s arraignment was a huge letdown for the barbarians who had camped in front of the courthouse to be front row spectators. An audible groan rose because Circuit Judge Bullock had assigned the arraignment to the local probate judge. More disappointment followed when the county prosecutor’s office sent a junior attorney to read a prepared affidavit.