A Composition in Murder (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 6)

by Larissa Reinhart

  Near the scene of the accident, Meemaw’s Tea gates stood open. I scuttled back to my truck and drove through the gates, but found the parking lot mostly empty and the front doors locked. A sign had been taped to the glass door announcing Della’s visitation and date of the funeral. Inside a giant floral wreath on a stand had been set up near the empty reception area.

  Trudging to my truck, I glanced over Belvia’s list of company people. Thank the Almighty the list didn’t include every person who worked at this huge factory. Mainly the board members, the company lawyer, and Della’s assistant. A wave of anxiety crashed into me every time I looked at the sheet. Their positions were mostly initials. Initialed job titles didn’t happen much in my world. Initialed names, all the time. But jobs tended to end in man. Policeman. Postman. Fireman.

  I guessed the more money you made, the longer your job title.

  Before I stepped into my truck, a golf cart whirred toward me and a security guard waved a hello.

  “We’re not open today,” he called. “Shut down in honor of Miss Della. Most everyone’s gone except for a few employees watching the tea kettles.”

  “It’s nice to see some things are still more important than business,” I said. “I was surprised so many people were gone.”

  “Did you know Miss Della?”

  “Miss Belvia,” I fudged. “She wanted me to check on a few things.”

  “Who did you want to see? Someone in the office? Donna Sharp’s still here. She might help you.”

  “Isn’t she Della’s assistant? I figured she’d be at Halo House with everyone else.”

  “Been here all morning.” The guard shrugged. “Always something to do, isn’t there? Especially if you work for the Brakemans. You want me to get her on the horn?”

  I waited while he radioed into the building, wondering why Donna Sharp hadn’t left for the viewing. Hopefully she’d see me anyway. Della’s assistant would have insights into the board mess and might point me toward someone who had wanted to rid Meemaw’s Tea of the Brakemans. Likely, Luke had already talked to Donna, but he’d keep that information to himself. I hoped she’d reveal to me what she might keep from the police.

  I still couldn’t attune myself to the idea that a business person would turn to murder to resolve a company dispute. I always thought white-collar greed stuck to lying, cheating, and stealing.

  “Looks like Donna left,” said the guard.

  “Guess I’ll catch her at the visitation. Thanks.”

  He folded his arms on the golf cart steering wheel and shook his head. “You’ll have to see her when she gets back.”

  “Gets back? From what?”

  “Don’t know. Amy in dispatch said Donna had to go out of town.”

  “Out of town?” I gave my brain a mental shake. “Donna Sharp’s not going to her boss’s viewing or funeral?”

  “Dunno.” He gave the brim of his hat an unneeded adjustment. “Any case, she’s not here. Guess you’ll be heading out?”

  “Guess so.” I clambered into my old yellow Datsun under the guard’s watchful eye and then aimed the rusty pickup back toward Halo House.

  By the time I returned, hired deputies had appeared to conduct traffic in and out of Halo House’s parking area. The lobby had filled with a thick parade of Forks County citizens eager to pay their respects to the Meemaw’s Tea family.

  At one, Ada, Fred, and I scooted toward the banquet room where the viewing was held. A long line had wrapped through the halls, waiting for the banquet room doors to open. Unlike the three of us, most of the residents had queued early.

  By one forty-five, the line hadn’t moved.

  “I’m gonna find out what’s going on,” said Ada. “Hold my place.”

  “Don’t bother the family,” said Fred.

  “Fred, you worry too much. The banquet doors are still closed. Maybe someone doesn’t know how to open them.”

  “You don’t think they would ask the staff for help?”

  “We’re not all as brilliant as you, Fred.”

  “See what you can find out,” I urged. “Hurry, though. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  With a triumphant look, Ada marched up the hall. Five minutes later she returned.

  “Belvia’s not down yet,” she said. “They’re waiting on her call.”

  “Isn’t someone with her?” The hair on the back of my neck rose.

  Ada shook her head. “She wanted to be alone. She’ll call Coralee when she’s ready.”

  “Coralee’s waiting inside?”

  Ada nodded. “With the rest of the family and the head honchos from Meemaw’s Tea.”

  “What about Miss Molly? She’s not with Belvia?”

  “I don’t know Molly, so I didn’t ask. But they said Battle-axe wanted time to herself.”

  “How long has she been alone?”

  Ada shrugged. “When Battle-axe tells everyone to get out, you get out and wait for her call. We’ll all be standing in this hallway until the cows come home if she decides she doesn’t want to start.”

  “Hold my spot.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Fred.

  “I’m popping up to Miss Belvia’s.”

  “What don’t you understand about her ‘wanting to be alone’?” said Ada.

  “If she kicks me out, she kicks me out,” I said. “But I have a horrible feeling I’ve failed her.” Before I even started.

  Ada rolled her eyes with a wave of her hand. “According to Belvia, everybody’s failed her at some point.”

  “Not like this.”

  Ten

  I found the door to Belvia’s apartment unlocked and called out. When no one answered, I entered, leaving the door open behind me. I sped across the Spartan living room to the office. Cracking the door, I peeked inside, calling again. No Belvia. But her safe stood open.

  My heart lunged up my throat.

  Stacks of manila envelopes and jewelry-sized boxes filled the cavity. I couldn’t tell if she’d been robbed. It didn’t look like it, but Belvia was particular—I couldn’t imagine her leaving a safe open.

  Questions about the safe could wait. I needed to find Belvia.

  Backing into the living room, I took the next ten steps in two flying leaps toward the back hall. A doorway opened onto a small closeted dressing area with two doors on either end. Hollering her name, I pushed open the door to my right and checked the neat, sparse bedroom, then reversed to the separate bathroom. The door stood slightly ajar but blocked. Pressing my face to the crack, I peered through and saw Belvia’s black suited legs cock-eyed and sprawled on the floor.

  “Hang on, Mrs. Brakeman,” I called. “I’m getting help.”

  I ran into the bedroom. Found a phone on the bedside table. I pressed the first of the preprogrammed buttons. Della’s voice asked to leave a message. I tried the second button. After three unanswered rings, I broke the connection. Hitting the third button, I was put on automatic hold at a law office.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I shouted. “Why don’t you have Halo House staff in your top three, Belvia?”

  I dialed the sheriff’s office. “Tamara, it’s Cherry. I’m at Halo House. Room 200. I think a resident is dead or dying in her bathroom.”

  “Why in the hay are you calling me?” said Tamara. “They’ve got staff there. It’ll be faster.”

  “I don’t remember their number. And I’m panicking.”

  “Calm down. If the victim’s not wearing their pendant, there should be an emergency pull in the bathroom.”

  “Can’t get in the bathroom. Her body is blocking the door. Just call them.”

  “Already on it,” said Tamara. “And sending an ambulance. Stay on the line, baby.”

  “I won’t hang up, but I’m not staying
on the line. This phone has a cord. A cord, for pity’s sake.”

  I dropped the receiver onto the bed, sped back into the dressing area, and pressed my face against the crack in the bathroom door. “Miss Belvia,” I shouted. “I’ve got people coming. Stay with me.”

  Two minutes later, two orderlies and a nurse appeared.

  “Mrs. Brakeman’s in there.” I pointed. “But she’s fallen and blocking the door.”

  One orderly ran from the room and reappeared with a toolkit and more people. Five minutes later, the door to the bathroom leaned against the wall and Belvia was surrounded by caregivers.

  “What’s going on in here?” Coralee strode into the small hallway, followed by Molly. Seeing the hubbub, Coralee hurried to the bathroom door.

  Molly stopped in the hall entrance, wringing her hands.

  I abandoned my position in the bedroom doorway to place an arm around Molly and led her into the bedroom. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, we watched the scene through the open doorway. A nurse shooed Coralee from the bathroom then received a scathing indictment on Coralee’s rights “to see her mother.”

  “I understand,” said the nurse. “But we need the space to work. We’re doing everything we can.”

  “She’s supposed to be downstairs at my sister’s visitation. What happened?”

  “I can’t say right now. As soon as we can, we’ll let you know.”

  “Can you save her?”

  “Ma’am, why don’t you have a seat? Give us a minute, please.”

  “Oh my God.” Coralee turned from the bathroom, her hands covering her mouth. Seeing me, she dropped her hands. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I’m sorry, Coralee. Why don’t you sit down?” I stood and waved at the spot next to Molly. “I came when I heard your momma hadn’t made it to the viewing.”

  “Mother said she’d call us. She wasn’t feeling well.” Coralee cast a glance at Molly, then tottered to the bed to sit next to her. “I did what she wanted. You don’t question Mother.”

  Molly looked at me. “Belvia paged me a few minutes ago. I came up as fast as I could.”

  I thought about the numbers I had dialed. “That was me. I pushed her speed dial numbers, trying to reach the front desk. You didn’t answer immediately so I pushed the next button. After getting her lawyer, I gave up and called the sheriff.”

  “The sheriff? Why did you even come here?” Coralee’s eyes darted from me to the scene in the bathroom.

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw a nurse shake her head.

  My thoughts flew to my brother in Forks County Corrections, waiting on my miracle. The Wizardess hadn’t yet granted my wish. Guilt clenched my gut. This wasn’t about me. Poor Belvia had been taken before she’d gotten justice for her daughter. And maybe not by a natural death, as she feared.

  “Your mother told me—” I stopped before I said, “she believed she could be murdered.”

  Coralee cocked her head.

  “To check on her.” I finished lamely, then swallowed my tears. “And I let her down. Will you excuse me?”

  I left Coralee and Molly to comfort each other. Staying with the grievers would have fallen under Grandma Jo’s “necessary duties.” But I needed to take care of Miss Belvia’s last requests, which meant another quick call to the sheriff’s department. Someone needed to examine her office before five million more people trooped through her door.

  Miss Belvia had relied on my suspicious hunches and I needed to go with my gut on this one. For her sake.

  With my phone pressed to my ear and my voice tuned to hush, I pushed open the office door and peered inside.

  “Explain this to me,” said Luke on the other end of the line. “I’m off duty. I should be sleeping. Why do you want me to look at Belvia Brakeman’s apartment? Sounds like the staff is taking care of it.”

  “I don’t like the timing. We were waiting for her to come down for Della’s viewing.”

  “Sugar, she’s ninety.”

  “Her safe was open, although it doesn’t look like anything’s missing. But her door was unlocked. It felt suspicious.”

  “It doesn’t sound like a robbery. You think everything’s suspicious.”

  “I know. Belvia really liked that.” I sniffled. “Anyway, you’re one of the officers investigating Della’s hit and run. It should be you. Make sure everything’s okay.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Actually, I’m not home, but nearby. I can be there in a few. Don’t touch anything. If I’m coming, it’ll be official.”

  The crash cart holding Belvia made its way through the living room and out the door. Molly hurried after the nurses, but Coralee didn’t appear.

  “What do I do if someone wants in her apartment?” I said. “Coralee is already here. More are sure to follow.”

  “Keep them out.” He hung up.

  “And how will I do that?” I muttered.

  This was what I got for unraveling my scruples for Belvia. Embroiled in another death. It didn’t seem to matter what I did. Lately, it felt like God had sent me a personal pestilence of dead bodies.

  I must be praying wrong.

  As the staff exited Belvia’s rooms, gawkers peered inside. The front door banged open and an older man walked in. Following him, another middle-aged man and Coralee’s daughter, Pris. Her long-haired bearded companion wore wire-rimmed glasses, baggy pants, and a striped cardigan. Coralee’s husband, Wally, I assumed. Behind them, I heard the murmurings of a growing crowd. Distant sirens blared outside.

  I strode to the door to head them off. “I’m sorry, but y’all need to wait outside.”

  “Who are you?” The older man was dressed in a dark suit. His glasses looked designer, his receding hair styled. The suit flashy. He couldn’t be from Halo. Or trying too hard if he was.

  Atlanta, I thought. With the size of Belvia’s company, Atlanta was a possibility.

  “Cherry Tucker, sir. I’m the art teacher here. Police are on their way and they want the premises sealed until they arrive.”

  “Why are the police coming?” asked Wally. “I thought Belvia had a heart attack.”

  “Company policy.”

  “No, it’s not,” said the man, who apparently didn’t need an introduction of his own. “Where’s Coralee?”

  “I’ll get her if you step into the hall.” My hands flapped toward the door. “Maybe y’all could go to Molly’s apartment.”

  “Who?” said Wally.

  “Miss Belvia’s old assistant. Old as in retired. Although she is a senior.” I cut off my babble to eyeball the stranger. “And you are?”

  “Ron Newson. Della Brakeman’s husband.” His eyes narrowed behind the dark frames. “The goddamned bereaved.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Newson. But I just got off the phone with a sheriff’s deputy. They do want this apartment sealed off for now. I’ll find a place for you and your family to sit privately.”

  Ron Newson scanned the open office door behind me, then the living room. Before I could stop him, he tromped past me to the bedroom hall. Wally scurried behind him.

  “Excuse me,” I called, not entirely sure how to politely accost the bereaved for not following orders.

  Pris shuffled a step toward them, then glanced at me. “I’ll try to get them out.”

  “Thanks.” I locked the apartment door and closed the office, then hurried after them. Their words reached me before I entered the suite’s closeted area. Concerned with their tone and the use of my name, I backed around the corner to listen.

  “...Cherry Tucker. Did she call the cops?” said Coralee. “I know my rights. It’s suspicious, her being here.”

  “She’s just doing her job,” said Pris.

  “She’s the activities girl. Give me a break. It’s not her job to w
orm her way into my mother’s trust.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know you don’t call the cops when someone has a heart attack. Particularly someone as old as Mother.”

  “Coralee’s right,” said Wally. “We don’t do what the pigs say just because they want to look around. They could plant stuff, you know. We should be watching them, not the other way around.”

  “Dad—”

  “And anyway,” said Coralee, “who exactly is this Cherry Tucker? Ever since we got here, she’s been hanging around Mother. Just like that Molly person. They’re looking for handouts. If their names appear in that will, I’ll sue.”

  “Molly worked for Grandmother.”

  “So what’s she still doing here?”

  “Let’s talk about this somewhere else.” Pris’s voice skittered across the icy tension. “The police will be here any minute.”

  “This is my mother’s apartment. I’m her daughter. I’m not leaving.”

  “I’m sure it’ll only take a few minutes and then we can come back.”

  “It only takes a few seconds for the pigs to plant stuff,” said Wally. “We can’t let them in here.”

  “Maybe Mother paid off the cops,” said Coralee. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she asked them to take away evidence before the family can look at her papers.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Pris. “That’s crazy.”

  “You think she and Della made that much money from sweet tea? I’m sure there’s payoffs or something she wanted buried. Or money hidden in offshore accounts she doesn’t want us to have. How would I know? Not like she ever told me anything.”

  “Mom, you didn’t talk to her for thirty years.”

  I totally misjudged the paranoid in the family. The award went to Coralee. Or maybe Wally.

  One voice hadn’t offered an opinion. Which is what I got for listening at doors instead of doing my job. Sucking in my breath, I plowed through the hall and into the bedroom.

  Coralee’s head jerked. “Why are you still here? What in the hell is going on? You keep showing up and yet I’m not wanted? I’m her damn daughter. Who in the hell are you?”