Murder in the Classic City

by Sheila S Hudson

  Giles left us and I felt that Harry needed a pick-me-up, so I suggested we get coffee at the Java Station. If we were lucky, Doris and Carol might see the car and give us an update on their surveillance. It was almost comedic to see those two with their spy gear. They were onto Pamela like white on rice.

  Harry commandeered a table while I put in our orders. But who do you think came sashaying over to the table but the famous agent, Pamela Jones? I thought steam would come out of Harry’s ears. Ignoring obvious signals, she proceeded to pull up a chair and attempt a conversation.

  “You hussy,” Harry shouted. All eyes went in that direction. “How dare you act like you care for me and behind my back poison a defenseless animal!”

  Louder, Harry I don’t think they heard you in the next town. Please Harry. Self-control. The entire population of Java station was now enrapt in the scene being played out before them.

  “Why Harry. Whatever are you talking about? With that she pulled out a pack of Perique cigarettes and suddenly remembered that this was a no smoking zone. She put them away but not before Harry spotted them.

  The sight of the cigarette pack made Harry smolder. He stood up and for a moment I thought he would strike Pamela. She took the hint, grabbed her purse, and made a hasty exit almost running over Doris and Carol.

  “Damn, do they serve Scotch in here?” Harry bellowed. I hurried to the table with the coffee orders and tried to soothe Harry’s wounded soul.

  “Calm down dear. Have your latte, you’ll feel better,” I said to my favorite person in the world who looked at me like I had suddenly turned green.

  “The only thing that will make me feel better is to feed that woman some candy laced with poison and let her see what Khaki went through,” he muttered. “Anyone who would do that to a defenseless animal is not worth my time of day. I’ll see to it that she pays. Yes, sirree bob! If it’s the last thing I ever do.”

  Doris and Carol were still in the doorway trembling from all the excitement. When Carol went to grab two bottles of water, I slipped a note to Doris telling her that Pamela was onto us and that she was extremely dangerous. I knew that wouldn’t slow them down so I included a listening/locator device so I could keep track of my friends.

  They waved a goodbye to us, but Harry was in no mood for anything congenial. He was on the defensive and hurt from the deception. I admonished them to go straight home but I knew that they wouldn’t let go of this. They wanted to be in for the take down.

  I sipped my peppermint latte quietly and decided to leave Harry to his thoughts. Since Pamela knew that all of us were onto her. She would be out of town before we could notify the authorities. I texted Giles to have Grimes pick Pamela up as she left town. Harry had put the ‘fear of God’ into her. We needed her to spill the beans about what had transpired between her and Mary Ann or Beth or whoever she was in cahoots with. Pamela was a smart cookie but somehow, I didn’t think she was the architect of Dennis’ death.

  My cell signaled a message from the vet. Khaki was cleared to go home. I showed it to Uncle Harry who immediately brightened.

  “What are we waiting for? Let’s go get our girl,” Harry said and practically vaulted to the door.

  17

  While Harry and I retrieved Khaki form the vet, Giles took all the evidence we had amassed to Grimes at the Police Station. Grimes dispatched uniforms to pick up Ms. Camden for questioning.

  We dropped Khaki at Tracey’s house. She agreed to dog sit while we were at the station. Grimes permitted Giles, Harry, and me to be in the room with the two-way mirror while Mary Ann was questioned.

  “State your full name for the record please,” Grimes said. “This testimony is being recorded.”

  “Mary Ann Camden,” she responded.

  “What was your maiden name?”

  “Mary Ann Campbell.”

  “Were you married before you met and married Dennis Camden?”

  “Yes. I was married to George Whitlock.”

  “What happened to Mr. Whitlock?”

  “He died.”

  “Where did you meet Professor Camden?”

  “At Rutherford College where I was working as an administrative assistant.”

  “When was that?”

  “Six years ago.”

  “Did Dr. Camden give you an allowance after you were married?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Because your spending on personal items is much more than what you husband deposited every month.”

  “I have other sources of income. I am a licensed life coach and I dabble in interior decorating.”

  Mary Ann was obvious grasping for answers. She showed a slight flush beginning at her neckline.

  “According to your bank records, about a year ago you began receiving large sums of cash on the fifteenth of the month. We traced the source and it began around the time of city elections. Do you want to comment on that?”

  “No. It must be a coincidence.”

  “Well another coincidence is that the same amount every month began to be deducted from Beth Alewine’s personal account. Can you explain that?”

  “No. Beth and I have no business dealings.”

  “Well we can prove that you have been blackmailing Beth Alewine for some time now,” Grimes said. He then produced the sorority pictures showing Mary Ann and Beth in the Delta Zeta house. “Here’s another of you two at a University of Georgia homecoming dance and yet another selling concession at a football game. Care to revise your story?”

  “Yes. I knew Beth. So what?”

  “Did you know that she dated Ed Lawson and was pregnant with his child? Did you also know that she murdered the infant and dropped out of college?”

  “I had nothing to do with any of that. Beth was on drugs. She went off the beam. I didn’t know what happened to her until I moved to Rutherford, married Dennis, and got involved with community events.”

  “And when Beth decided to run for public office, you saw your opportunity to blackmail her about her pregnancy and the death of the infant. The present Ms. Alewine was not only straightened out, but she was a prominent attorney who had married into a wealthy family. When Beth decided to run for office, it was ka-ching. You knew she would pay any price to keep her past out of the media. You also knew about her alternate identity. For the right price, you’d keep quiet and have a nice little nest egg for the luxuries your penurious husband would not provide. But then Ed Lawson showed up and got himself killed. That put a serious kink in your plans, didn’t it?”

  Mary Ann’s expression changed to anger. “Okay. You’re right on the first part. I did blackmail Beth. She was a slut and deserved what she got, but I didn’t kill Dennis. He was a bit of a tightwad, but I did love him in my own way.”

  At that point I was glad she couldn’t see my face. I couldn’t have come up with a character in my novels that was more cold-hearted. Mary Ann was a great actress. She certainly had me fooled and apparently, she deceived a lot of others including Dennis.

  Mary Ann continued, “Pamela came to town when Stephanie’s books became so popular. I did a background check and made the connection that Ed was her brother. I saw an opportunity for her to avenge Ed’s death. I tried to persuade Dennis to sell his formula for the anti-nausea medicine to one of the highest bidders. He wouldn’t hear of it. We had a horrible quarrel and he walked out. I had no idea that he was going back to the lab that night. It was supposed to be off limits because of an earlier chemical spill. No one was to be in those buildings. Raymond, Pamela’s loser husband, was going to break a few things, use pyrotechnics to start a small fire, and just give the college a scare. He wasn’t supposed to blow up the damn place. The one thing I didn’t bargain on was Pamela’s lust for vengeance and Raymond’s inept judgment.”

  “Then your testimony is that blowing up the laboratory and killing your husband was all Pamela’s idea and you had nothing to do with it?” Grimes was going in for the kill.

  “Absolutely. I understo
od Pamela’s lust for avenging Ed’s death, but the Alewines were in prison. What else was there to do about it? It was her idea to plant occultic symbols all over town in order to drag the Harts into the investigation. I was supposed to break into the Harts’ home and toss stuff around to make it look like a robbery. That was supposed to lead the police off the trail. Pretty smart don’t you think?”

  Mary Ann looked proud of herself. The woman I though worthy of being a supermodel wore a sneer which transformed her into an ugly vindictive bitch. The depths of my being couldn’t conceive the hate she must feel for all of us. Yet she covered it so well.

  Giles, Harry, and I looked at each other in wonder. We couldn’t believe all the stuff we were hearing. I couldn’t wait to hear Pamela’s side of the story.

  18

  As anxious as we were to hear more, I thought perhaps Uncle Harry had had enough excitement for one day. He and I picked up Khaki and headed to Harry’s bungalow. I thought we both could use some of Harry’s wine therapy.

  I had a rough draft of the book I was writing in my tote, so I decided to make Uncle Harry a guinea pig. Perhaps it would get our minds off the present situation. The furor around Ed and our former relationship in college made my last book Diva’s Revenge fly off the bookshelves. It was hard to think up a topic that would top revenge, but I went back to the original The Diva Code and resurrected some characters. Part of that strategy was to persuade my readers who hadn’t read the entire series to do just that. Also, I got my protagonist into a lot of hot water, just like real life. Now I needed help to get her out of her predicament and right all the wrongs, without going over my word limit.

  Harry said that he had read all my books and guessed my identity before I publicly revealed it. I relied on his opinion of what my heroine would or would not do.

  “Hell of a read,” he said after going over the rough draft. “How does it end?”

  “That’s what I was hoping you could help me with,” I said.

  “I need a scotch, first. How about you?”

  “What about your wine therapy?”

  “Oh, that’s for pussies. Scotch is a man’s drink.”

  “I’ll have a Merlot,” I said.

  He tossed Khaki a treat on the way to the liquor cabinet. I took out a pen and prepared for corrections, suggestions, and ways to make this last book in the series the best yet. That’s what any author worth his ink is always trying to do.

  Giles texted to say that Mary Ann was being booked for blackmail, but that’s all she was confessing to. The critical thing would be if Pamela and her husband confessed to her part in Dennis’ death.

  He also said that after Harry’s little tirade at the Java Station, Pamela hightailed it to who knows where so there’s an APB out on her. I’d lay odds that Carol and Doris find her before the police. They left the Java Station right after she did supposedly to go home, but those women have taken this as their personal mission especially after learning about Khaki’s poisoning.

  I’m sure Doris has alerted the golden age community so if Pamela was in a 50-mile radius she would have been spotted by someone. If I were Pamela and two old biddies were trailing me, where would I lead them? And what would I do if I got them to follow me? The results make me quake.

  The fact remains that Pamela DID poison Khaki, so that is grounds of arrest. But then I’m worried about my senior partners in crime on her tail. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. I hope they stay hidden. A murder whether accidental or premeditated was committed at our back door. Lord knows even with their spy equipment, Carol and Doris are no match for a desperate woman like Pamela Jones. I kept this to myself. Harry was sipping Scotch and brushing Khaki. He seemed to have calmed himself.

  “Giles said he would be home late and for us not to wait dinner,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about dinner for me. I ate a big lunch and with all the excitement it hasn’t quite settled,” Harry answered. He pulled a ball out of the cabinet and took Khaki into the back yard.

  While Harry occupied himself, I phoned Doris. It went straight to voice mail. Then I phoned Carol. Same thing. My mind began racing with possibilities. I did the only thing I could think of.

  “Detective Grimes. I believe my friends Carol and Doris are in danger.”

  My next call was to Giles. His voice mail picked up.

  “Harry has Khaki. I must find Carol and Doris. I’ll explain later. I love you.”

  “Uncle Harry. Could you babysit Khaki for a while? I have some things to do before dinner,” I said.

  “Sure. But when you return, we’ll get back to the case, right?” Harry threw the ball to Khaki again. I’m not sure who was enjoying this the most.

  “Of course,” I lied.

  19

  I slid into my car. Giles returned my call. I brought him up to speed on what had transpired.

  “Pamela is still nowhere to be found,” he said.

  “That’s what I was afraid of when she left the coffee shop in such a hurry. Pamela knows we are onto her. And what’s more, I’m afraid that Carol and Doris are trailing her. They have no idea what she’s capable of. I alerted Grimes but I don’t know if he will take me seriously. So, I have to take action.”

  “Action. What action? This isn’t a novel. This is real life,” Giles replied.

  “I took the precaution of putting a bug in Doris’ tote bag for a time such as this. She’s not the only one who has spyware.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that Mary Ann and now Pamela have shown their true colors. Pamela drives a new white VW that’s a rental.”

  Giles snapped “And I’m saying that you and the girls are in danger. Where do you think Pamela would lead them if she realized she’s being trailed?”

  “Maybe the rec center. The seniors have a room for exercise, ballroom dancing, and yoga,” I guessed.

  “Really? Yoga and ballroom dancing?”

  “Giles, dear. Times have changed. Time to catch up with the modern seniors who take cruises in their golden years. Meet me at the senior center. Pronto.”

  I broke more than a few speed limits on my way to the center located in the Rutherford Convention Center. I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted Doris’ station wagon parked in a handicapped space. But the relief was only temporary when I saw a white VW convertible only a short distance away.

  Giles pulled in behind me. “Call the police,” I shouted. “I have to find Carol and Doris.”

  He gave me a glare that spoke volumes, but I ignored it. My friends were in that building with a poisoner. Someone like that wouldn’t blink at doing away with two old ladies.

  I crept to the edge of the doorway leading to the exercise room. I heard Carol singing at the top of her lungs

  Kumbaya my Lord, Kumbaya

  Kumbaya my Lord, Kumbaya

  Kumbaya my Lord, Kumbaya

  Oh Lord, Kumbaya

  Someone’s praying Lord, Kumbaya

  Someone’s praying Lord, Kumbaya

  Someone’s praying Lord, Kumbaya

  Oh Lord, Kumbaya

  “Shut up woman or I’ll shut you up,” came a voice that I recognized as Pamela.

  Then I heard Doris say, “Carol always sings when she’s nervous. It’s just a habit. She doesn’t even realize that she does it.”

  Pamela raised her tone a level, “Shut her up or you’ll both be sorry. I don’t carry this for nothing.”

  That was my cue that Pamela not only had them corralled somehow but she was brandishing a weapon.

  Someone’s crying Lord, Kumbaya

  Someone’s crying Lord, Kumbaya

  Someone’s crying Lord, Kumbaya

  Oh Lord, Kumbaya

  There was Carol again. Bless her she was braver than I realized. My phone signaled a message from Doris.

  “Help. Pamela has a gun.”

  I hid in the shadows as best I could. From my viewpoint, I saw that the girls’ wrists were tied with what appeared to be electrica
l cords. Carol’s voice wavered as she repeated the lyrics over and over. Sometimes she was louder, sometimes softer.

  “Will you shut up?” Pamela yelled. “I can’t think. Where is that good for nothing husband of mine? Raymond got us into this mess with his pyrotechnic crap. Now he’s got to get us out of it. Mary Ann said it would be easy. Little did she know that my greedy husband would complicate things – big time.”

  Pamela dialed her phone again with apparently no answer since she slammed it back into her purse. Around the same time, I saw a glint of light and what I thought was movement on the other side of the room. I was praying it was Grimes, the cavalry, or anyone but Raymond.

  My eyes were gradually adjusting to the dim emergency lighting. Carol was still humming with Pamela shushing her in intervals. I heard the click of fingernails on a keyboard and surmised that Raymond had yet to answer. I prayed that he was trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey in one of the squad cars.

  As if on cue, Carol suddenly stopped singing. She cleared her voice and began reciting:

  Our Father which art in heaven,

  Hallowed be thy name

  Pamela’s head swiveled around like it was on a spindle. She couldn’t believe what was coming out of Carol’s mouth. If I hadn’t been in stealth mode, I would have chuckled.

  Carol’s hands were folded and in a more serene manner, she continued:

  Thy kingdom come,

  Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven

  Give us this day our daily bread.

  “This is the last time Doris. Shut her up!” Pamela demanded.

  “I told you. When Carol gets nervous, she does things, reciting scripture and singing are only two of them,” Doris explained.

  “I don’t think you understand, dear. This is a hostage situation and YOU are the hostages. So, keep quiet and do what I say,” Pamela said.

  And forgive us our debts,