The Battered Body

by J. B. Stanley

  “The show’s teaser mentioned the book in conjunction with the sudden death of the Diva of Dough,” Scott answered after a moment’s hesitation. “I think they’re going to spin that event so that it looks like Murphy has an insider’s perspective and a possible subject for her next mystery.”

  “The mystery angle may prove correct.” James sighed heavily and told the Fitzgerald brothers about Chase’s death.

  “Are you sure you should be here, Professor?” Francis eyed his boss carefully. “We can handle things if you need to hang out with Milla.”

  The young man’s caring nature touched James. “Thanks, Francis, but we’re just a bit shocked. There’s nothing we can do about what happened, so we might as well put our heads down and get on with our day.”

  Scott tapped on Murphy’s book. “I don’t know what the Cellulite Club would do, but when this town’s been in trouble before, we could always look to your supper club to straighten things out.”

  “You’re right!” James stared at Scott and then clapped the twin fondly on the back. “I’ll call a meeting for tonight. We can’t allow people to be pushed off our mountains!” he exclaimed. “We need to act!”

  Scott and Francis watched their boss hurry into this office where he switched on his computer. “Way to distract him,” he heard Francis whisper. “He’s going to get all kind of grief from that book as it is.”

  “I wasn’t trying to distract him,” Scott replied. “I meant what I said. Our boss is like a librarian superhero.”

  “Dude, that would make an awesome graphic novel!” Francis remarked enthusiastically and the pair moved off, exchanging character, plot, and costume ideas.

  “I hope they don’t make me wear a cape,” James muttered with a grin.

  The supper club members didn’t have much time to prepare an elaborate meal for that evening, and since Bennett and James were interested in relatively low-calorie food, the five friends e-mailed one another until they agreed upon a simple, well-balanced meal. James assumed Lucy would be far too busy to cook, so he informed her via e-mail that she was exempt from having to bring anything but information to the Henry table. He then called Milla to forewarn her that she and Jackson should expect the supper club members to appear between six and six thirty.

  “Thank the Lord!” she exclaimed happily. “Oh, please let me cook! It’ll give me something to do! I just discovered the perfect recipe for a healthy main dish: artichoke and sun-dried tomato chicken breasts drizzled with a nice pesto sauce. A little garlic, a few onions, and some excellent olive oil …” James could hear her making a mental grocery list.

  “Don’t buy too much,” he advised. “Gillian’s making whole wheat spaetzle and Lindy’s bringing steamed zucchini. And I should help with something.”

  “You can help me with the chocolate mousse. I know a sumptuous recipe that uses rich, dark chocolate instead of sugar, and brandy and coffee instead of heavy cream. It’s been ages since I made it, but I still remember how good it is.” She lowered her voice. “I have to confess, James, I am thrilled to have an excuse to get your father out of the house. There’s nothing on TV about Chase’s accident and he says he can’t focus on work without knowing more about what happened, but I know he’s really moping because he doesn’t know who to paint next. No one’s hands are inspiring him.”

  “Oh dear.” James knew how ill-humored his father could be when he was between projects.

  “I hope these awful events revolving around my family members aren’t going to turn him back into a hermit,” she added. “I wish I could think of something I could do to bring some sunshine back into our lives.”

  “Me too,” James sympathized.

  That evening, Bennett was the first to arrive. He handed James a thermos of hot spiced cider and fell into one of the kitchen chairs in exhaustion.

  “My route has never taken as long as it did today. Every man, woman, and dog wanted to hash over my love life.” He shook his head wearily. “Man, what was I thinking doing what I did how I did it? That is so not my style!”

  “Too late now,” James replied cheerily. He was enjoying Bennett’s public romance. “Besides, now you’ve given Murphy fodder for her next book.”

  “Shoot, that’s the other thing everybody’s yapping about. What’s the big shocker at the end?” Bennett inquired as someone rapped knuckles against the panes of the back window.

  “No clue,” James stated as he opened the door, letting in Lindy, Gillian, and a burst of cold air. “I haven’t read it.”

  Lindy pulled the book out of her grocery bag, her face dark with anger. “I’m on chapter eleven, and every page I read makes me madder and madder. I spent my entire lunch hour plotting revenge against Murphy Alistair!”

  “What’s your opinion?” James asked Gillian nervously.

  Gillian removed a hand-knit turquoise beret from her head and fluffed her hair. “I don’t plan on reading it,” she answered calmly. “Ever. I’m certain I wouldn’t be pleased with Murphy’s depiction of my spiritual beliefs, and I would prefer not to have a reason to feel any animosity toward a member of my community. I’d like to continue to treat her with respect and fellowship.”

  “You wouldn’t if you read the part about how the scented candles you burn while you’re trying to communicate with a moody parrot actually cause the bird’s death,” Lindy grumbled.

  Gillian’s hands fluttered over her heart. “What?”

  “Yep,” Lindy pursued ruthlessly. “His feathers catch fire and he burns up while screaming ‘Help me! Help me!’”

  “That little witch!” Gillian snarled and ripped the book from Lindy’s hands. “What page is that on?”

  Lindy opened to a section she had marked using a paper clip. “You think that’s bad? Read this! Here’s where I strip down to my underwear and lay across the school principal’s desk in hopes of seducing him. Luis, whose name is Carlos in this piece of trash, eventually enters his office and he has one of my art students with him! The boy takes a picture of me with his cell phone, and suddenly I’m all over YouTube!” She reddened. “I’ve never done anything remotely like this, but I’m terrified to show my face at school!” She snapped the book shut and tossed it on the table.

  At that moment, Lucy let herself in the back door. Smiling at Lindy, she remarked, “And I thought I had a rough day.” She brandished the six-packs she held in each hand. “I got Miller Lite in case anyone wanted to join me, because after looking at Chase Martin’s battered body, a diet soda is not going to do it.”

  Everyone accepted a beverage and moved into the dining room. James took a beer into the den, handed it to Jackson, and then said, “Everyone’s here, Milla. I think we should eat first and then listen to Lucy’s report.”

  “Should I bring you a tray?” Milla asked Jackson.

  Jackson nodded. “I’d rather watch Deal or No Deal than listen to all that yammering.” As Milla turned to leave the room, he grabbed the sleeve of her sweater. “But I’ll come in and sit with you when they talk about the boy.”

  “You’re simply the sweetest man underneath all that huff and puff.” Milla kissed him on the forehead.

  Over the next few minutes, James set the table as the supper club members carried in side dishes, a pitcher of water, and Milla’s fragrant entrée. They ate hurriedly, exchanging banal small talk about their days. When the meal first started, James found himself wondering if the tone of their gatherings would change after Bennett and Gillian’s public kiss, but the pair acted as they always had. Everyone laughed over Bennett’s descriptions of being teased and playfully harassed by the individuals on his mail route.

  “And don’t tell me you’ve got some wacko tea that’ll ease my humiliation, woman.” Bennett pointed a finger at Gillian.

  She fluffed her hair and replied, “You were able to answer the second Daily Double correctly because of your knowledge of herbal teas. Now, I wonder who told you all about that subject.”

  As Milla served the chocolate mo
usse, to a chorus of appreciative oohs and ahs, Lucy could sense that it was time to turn to a more somber subject. After taking a reserved bite of her mousse, she nodded ever so slightly at James, signaling that he should collect Jackson from the den.

  Milla scooted her chair closer to Jackson’s as soon as he was seated and, gripping the handle of her coffee cup, announced that she was ready for Lucy to begin.

  “Chase Martin was definitely murdered,” Lucy stated flatly. “It would appear that he was hit on the back of the head with a blunt object—the ME thinks it might have been a shovel—and then positioned in the driver’s seat of his rental car.”

  Lindy gasped. “That’s horrible! Do you think he was unconscious before … before the crash?”

  “Most likely. It was a hard blow, the kind that would render most of us senseless,” Lucy said.

  “That’s a small blessing in the midst of this gargantuan tragedy,” Gillian declared theatrically.

  Lucy ignored the comment and continued. “The killer seems pretty confident that he or she won’t get caught. We don’t have the shovel, but this person didn’t bother with subtlety. We found blood evidence on the pavement where the car would have been parked before it went over the cliff, and there was a cinder block duct-taped to the gas pedal.”

  “Now all you need is a set of fingerprints,” Bennett stated.

  “Unfortunately, this guy wore gloves.” Lucy said. “And I’m going to refer to the murderer as a ‘he’ because this crime feels very male to me, but I’m not ruling out the possibility that the killer is a woman.”

  James had listened quietly up to this point, but when the friends suddenly began exchanging ideas concerning motive, he cleared his throat and looked sadly at Milla. “Every suspect I come up with is female.” He quickly repeated the conversation he had overheard between Willow, Chloe, and Aunt Wheezie when they were together in the hotel lobby.

  “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Willow lately.” Milla’s eyes flashed defiantly. “I cannot see that girl hitting Chase with a shovel and pushing him off a cliff over a month’s salary.”

  “Do you have alibis for the three ladies?” Lindy asked Lucy.

  “Naturally,” Lucy’s tone was scornful. “They were all getting dressed for the ash scattering. Both the hotel maid and the front desk clerk saw Chloe and Wheezie heading out to Chloe’s rental car, but no one in Willow’s apartment complex noticed her or her car, which is a pretty nondescript compact.”

  Milla reached over and grabbed Lucy’s hand. “Willow was in the bed-and-breakfast when Paulette died. She knew how much my sister liked eggnog. One of her jobs was to do errands for Paulette, including grocery shopping. And now you’re saying that she can’t prove where she was this morning?” Milla was clearly distraught. “Despite how things look, I just can’t believe she’s capable of violence …”

  “There are many layers to a human being,” Gillian replied softly.

  “So what’s her motive? Revenge?” Lindy asked. “Paulette dumped on her one time too many, so after murdering her, Willow gets a taste for it and bumps off Chase next?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Why would she risk her fresh start in Quincy’s Gap? She seemed to be really happy lately.” She turned to James. “You saw her at the firehouse the other night. I noticed she and Francis are getting pretty cozy, and the girl’s talked to everyone who’ll listen about Quincy’s Whimsies. Why would she kill Chase?”

  “That’s a good point. She’s become very optimistic,” Milla agreed. “Why, just yesterday she found out that one of the lawyer’s offices downtown is coming up for lease. It’s the perfect size and location for our store, and Willow scheduled a meeting with the building owner for a week from now. She’s pretty sure that’s where we’ll open our doors in a month or two. Does that sound like a murderer?”

  Bennett frowned. “It could be an example of that arrogant confidence Lucy talked about. She’s planning her future because she doesn’t think she’ll get caught.”

  Lucy cradled her coffee cup between her palms as the rest of the group fell silent, each of them trying to imagine Willow as a murderer.

  “Is Paulette’s case officially being reopened?” James inquired.

  “Just by me,” Lucy answered tiredly. “There’s no new evidence regarding her case, and this one will keep us all busy. If Chase hadn’t been thrown from the car, we wouldn’t even know about the head wound, but the killer forgot to put his seatbelt on and that’s the only lucky break we’ve had.”

  “Ain’t like that shovel’s gonna be easy to find,” Jackson spoke for the first time. “Every Tom, Dick, and Harry’s got at least one. Snow shovels, garden shovels, shovels to use for cleaning the crap out of animal stalls …”

  Lucy nodded in agreement. “The park rangers will search the area surrounding the overlook, but the killer could have tossed it in a lake for all we know. No, finding the shovel won’t be how we crack this case. I think the answer lies in the motive. Chase became an extremely wealthy man because of Paulette’s death, but who stood to gain by his abrupt ending?”

  “His wife?” Milla guessed.

  “We won’t know until we see his will, but I’ve had the opportunity to view Paulette’s, and hers contained an interesting clause.” Lucy paused dramatically. “If anything were to happen to Chase, then the profits from Paulette’s estate would go to Chloe, not to Chase’s wife and children.”

  “And Chloe’s in desperate need of money!” James exclaimed, and then grew thoughtful. “But she has a solid alibi for this morning, so unless she was working with someone all along …”

  Lindy’s eyes widened. “Like Willow?”

  “It’s possible,” Lucy conceded. “Still, there’s no evidence against either woman. These ideas we’re tossing out,” she gestured around the table, “are all circumstantial.”

  James glanced at the grim faces of his friends. Noting the resigned slump of Milla’s shoulders, he sighed. “What can we do?”

  “We can outsmart the killer!” Lucy shouted, startling everyone. “Look at us! We’ve brought wicked people to justice before, and we’re not going to back down now!” She lowered her voice. “I know this case is tough, but I will not have this person or persons get the better of us. I won’t stand for it. This is our town.”

  Rephrasing his previous question so that it formed a statement, James said, “Tell us what to do.”

  “Go back to the days preceding Paulette’s death,” she commanded. “I want a timeline of everything she did, every place she went, every person she insulted.” Lucy gave Milla an imploring look. “Can you do that?”

  “Of course, dear,” Milla answered without hesitation.

  “The key to this riddle lies with Paulette’s death. I’m sure of it.” Lucy put her palm over her heart. “I feel it. Once James, Jackson, and Milla finish that timeline, the rest of you are going to be my foot soldiers. You’re going to get every ounce of gossip, hearsay, or eyewitness accounts regarding Paulette’s movements before she was poisoned. Are you willing to be relentless in pursuing the truth?”

  “Oh, yes! Your passion is absolutely inspiring!” Gillian seized Lucy’s hand.

  “This isn’t passion. This is anger,” Lucy answered heatedly. “I missed something the first time, and my mistake has cost Chase Martin his life. I didn’t like him. I doubt that many people did, but did he deserve to have his head bashed in, to be pushed off a cliff ?”

  “No one deserves such an end,” Milla whispered.

  “Exactly!” Lucy raised her voice again. “And we’re running out of time! We can only detain Chloe and Wheezie for so long. I believe Chase knew the person who killed him. I think he was mighty surprised to see a shovel in that person’s hands. But who did he meet on that overlook? Why did he get there early? I need to know what we missed in Paulette’s case that can answer those questions.”

  James and Milla exchanged determined looks. “We’ll start right now,” he vowed.

  “And we’ll clea
n up the kitchen!” Gillian offered and pulled on Bennett’s arm. “Let’s go, mister. You’re on wash detail.”

  Spluttering, Bennett followed in her wake as Lindy collected dishes from the table.

  James fetched a notebook from his work bag, poured himself a large mug of coffee, and prepared for a late night. “I’m ready,” he told Lucy. “Let’s find that piece of the puzzle and end this thing for good.”

  In spite of how late he, Milla, and Jackson had stayed up the night before, James was alert and animated at work the following day. His Realtor had called just as he was turning on the lights in his office, asking if the closing could be moved up to that evening. It seemed the sellers wanted to attend a friend’s birthday party on the afternoon it had originally been scheduled and would be eternally grateful if James were willing to take ownership of the house a few days early.

  “I’ve already contacted the attorney and he’s available,” Joan pressed when James didn’t answer right away. “But if it’s a financial issue, then we can certainly wait until next week. It’s your call, Mr. Henry.”

  The check he planned to write to cover the down payment and the first month’s mortgage would nearly wipe out his savings, yet James had never been so excited about spending such a large chunk of money at once. “It’s no problem. I’m just digesting the thought that I can move in sooner than I thought. I can be at your office by six.”

  “Splendid. We can order Chinese takeout,” Joan suggested and then reluctantly added, “My treat.”

  Throughout the morning, James dreamed about his little yellow house. Before the day was spent, he’d hold in his hand the keys to 27 Hickory Hill Lane. After all these years living in his boyhood room, the most charming home in all of the Shenandoah Valley would belong to him.

  “You’ve got a sparkle in your eye this morning, Professor,” Scott commented as he passed by James’s office with the reshelving cart. “Francis and I figured that after what happened to Milla’s nephew, you might be feeling kind of gloomy.”