Murder in the Classic City

by Sheila S Hudson

  as we forgive our debtors.

  And lead us not into temptation,

  but deliver us from evil:

  For Thine is the kingdom, and the power,

  and the glory, forever. Amen.

  “Well, Thank God. That’s over,” Pamela said.

  “Yes, it is,” a voice from the darkness agreed. “Hands up, Ms. Jones. You are under arrest for the murder of Dr. Dennis Camden, for poisoning an animal, and for being an accomplice to blackmail.”

  Pamela glared at me on her way out. Even wearing handcuffs, it was hard to believe my trusted agent was capable of such crimes.

  I overheard her say that it was a relief to be rid of the singing and the chanting.

  “Doris. Carol. Are you okay? Did Pamela hurt you?”

  “No. We’re fine,” Doris said.

  “Carol. You are a trooper. How did you come up with singing and chanting to rattle her nerves?” I asked.

  “When my nephew puts on his music it drives me up the wall until he puts on his headphones, so I figured that a little Christian music wouldn’t hurt the Madam,” Carol said with confidence.

  “Besides I like singing and I recite the Lord’s Prayer every day. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t done it today. No time like the present.”

  God’s guardian angels were working overtime with those two. I hugged and kissed them both and guided them to the paramedics. I wanted to be sure they were okay. Giles was outside with Detective Grimes who assured me that Raymond was subdued. He and Pamela were headed to the police station where charges would be filed.

  Mary Ann sang like a bird when the district attorney offered to lighten her sentence if she could provide evidence that she was innocent of the explosion. Miss Pamela and Mr. Raymond will have a few choice phrases to say about her. For now, I counted my blessings and collected my husband. It had been a long day.

  We pulled into the driveway. Harry with Khaki on lead came to greet us. Both were happy as could be.

  “Did you catch them? Damn. I wish I could have been there when they clamped on the handcuffs.”

  “Yes, we got them. Pamela and MaryAnn plus their silent partner, Raymond, are on their way to jail.” I walked him through the standoff at the senior center, replayed Carol’s singing of Kumbaya and the final coup de grad of her recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. He roared with laughter.

  “I’m glad you got that bitch. Her husband was the one who blew up the lab?” Harry asked.

  “Yes, evidently he prided himself on being a pyrotechnical genius only he got this one wrong,” I said.

  “When the team finished examining the lab, he left clues here and there. He almost blew himself up in the process. Dennis wasn’t supposed to be there. He surprised Raymond. They fought and Dennis hit his head. Raymond panicked and he blew up the lab and almost blew himself up along with it,” Giles added.

  “I’m just glad this whole mess with the Alewines, the Camdens, and the Lawsons is over for good. Maybe now I can get back to writing, living my life, and dealing with murders only in print,” I said as I poured a glass of red, kicked off my shoes, and pulled Khaki into my lap.

  The Curse

  Book 3

  1

  Diva’s Revenge, my latest novel, was a huge success. The powers that be were still debating the possibilities of a Hallmark Mystery Movie. Meanwhile my agent and her wicked husband were arrested for manslaughter, kidnapping, and canine poisoning. Giles Hart, my professor husband, assumed the role of business manager. He was agent shopping. Negotiating with the film industry was above even his pay grade even with his Ph.D.

  Carol Pickford and Doris Hale, my friends and first readers, had settled down from the excitement of being held captive by my deranged former agent. They enjoyed their 15-minutes of fame and the newspaper spread before becoming yesterday’s bird cage liner.

  Harry nursed his broken heart for a while before he returned to what he loved best – growing poisonous plants. Each time he discovers a rare species, Harry offers me an opportunity to kill someone – in print – with a relatively unknown substance. In other words, life was mostly good.

  My book sales enabled me to become a full-time novelist and leave my day job. Nevertheless, I took all this notoriety with a grain of salt. Writer friends warned me how slow the film industry moves. And for free, they regaled me with their personal accounts of dashed hopes. My next move was to decide whether to continue the Diva series or begin a new one.

  At the start of the new semester, Giles began teaching Introduction to Myth, Ritual, and Symbology. His work with the police department required research on cults, religions, and the occult so he determined to make use of the knowledge he’d gleaned. Giles was toying with the idea of a sabbatical in Cairo next year. But before that could happen, we had a lot of details to work out – both personal and professional.

  The idea for the final book, Deadly Diva, came to me during the time Giles was interviewing applicants for the agent position. Our calendar was a delicate balance of classes, writing schedules, and personal appointments. What got squeezed the most was private time.

  Speaking of which

  “Yoo-hoo, Stephanie. Are you home?”

  The only ones who called me by my proper name were my two partners in crime. That was none other than Carol and if I had to bet, Doris was with her. They tended to arrive without warning bringing bakery treats requiring me to crank up Mr. Coffee and take a couple hours away from the computer.

  “In here, dear,” I answered.

  And as predicted my silver-haired partners marched straight into my study bursting with news.

  2

  “You will never guess what has happened,” Carol exclaimed. Doris tottered behind her bearing a box from Moe’s Bakery. My friends plopped their totes in an empty chair and topped them with their jackets.

  Without a word, Doris went into my kitchen and got Mr. Coffee going. She pulled saucers and mugs from the cabinet and arranged them on the dining table. It was an all too common scene.

  I saved the manuscript I was working on, backed it up on my USB, and proceeded into the dining room, where I expected to hear another ‘great’ idea for a story or some choice gossip they’d picked up in town. However today my assumptions were wrong.

  “Okay girls. What’s the big news?”

  “I have an inheritance,” Carol blurted out. “Someone left me a piece of property. Can you believe it?”

  “No. That’s great. Who left you this property?”

  “Well, that’s the strange part. I don’t really know this relative,” Carol said as she helped herself to a chocolate croissant.

  Doris plated a scone for me and a doughnut for herself. She smiled and poured the coffee. “Isn’t it wonderful? Carol is now the owner of the Hotel Rutherford.”

  “The Hotel Rutherford? I didn’t know Rutherford had a hotel,” I said.

  “They don’t anymore, but it was once a lovely hotel. According to the paperwork, someone later converted it into a bed and breakfast. I haven’t seen, but here is the deed and a copy of the will. It was left to me by my great uncle Erastus Smith,” Carol said. “He was a distant relative on my mother’s side.”

  “Must have been very distant since you hadn’t heard of him until the lawyer called,” Doris added.

  “Yes, exactly. I kind of feel bad accepting property from someone I didn’t even know,” Carol added.

  “But not bad enough to refuse,” I said. “Don’t beat yourself up. Wait until you see what this distant uncle left you. It may not be as glamorous as it sounds.” I buttered the scone and scanned the papers Carol placed in front of me. The pictures of the old hotel looked impressive; the catch was there was no indication when the photos were taken.

  “Just where is the Hotel Rutherford located?” I asked. Giles and I hadn’t explored the area very much. The little town of Rutherford was about 20 miles from Athens. Still I wondered why no one had ever mentioned the presence of a hotel or a B&B.

&
nbsp; “Do you ladies have plans for this afternoon?” I inquired.

  “No. We just finished with my lawyer, Walter Post. Doris grabbed the bakery treats, and we headed straight for you with the news,” Carol answered.

  “How about we take a drive and see your property before dark?”

  “I’m not sure. The lawyer said we might need to do some other things first,” Carol wavered.

  “Oh Carol. This is exciting. Let’s just peek,” Doris whined.

  “All right. Just let me get the address. I know it somewhere just out of town. Even though the name is Rutherford, it’s technically outside the city limits.”

  I knew that something about this seemed strange and I was about to find out what that something was.

  3

  I steered my van into the parking lot of the Rutherford Hotel. The sign out front was swinging by only one chain. It once proudly displayed a black and white announcement of the Hotel Rutherford established in 1927. Proprietor was listed as E. Smith, Carol’s great uncle.

  “Do you have keys?” I asked.

  “Yes. Here they are,” Carol pulled out a jailor’s ring with about a dozen keys hanging from it.

  “Looks like it will be an adventure just getting in,” I said. I was more correct than I realized. There was an old-fashioned doorknob circa the twenties, plus a padlock, and a deadbolt. I guess someone was overly cautious about their security. As the door creaked opened, I expected to see bats fly out. That didn’t happen but the creaking floorboards threatened to give way at any moment. My heart was pulsing in my ears, but I was trying to remain brave.

  “Um Carol. By any chance did you bring a flashlight?” I asked.

  “No. I didn’t. I was counting on the electricity still being on.”

  “When did your great uncle die exactly?” I asked and realized I should have asked this earlier.

  “Not sure,” Carol responded.

  Doris was still on the bottom step of the wrap around porch as Carol and I inched through the door frame and into the lobby. I pulled down a bed sheet that was covering the front window and was surprised to see that the room was fully furnished. Everything was dusty but not in bad shape.

  “Do you smell that?” Doris said as she finally made it into the house.

  “What?” Carol said.

  “It’s cigar smoke. My late husband, Xavier, used to smoke Cubans. I’d recognize that smell anywhere,” Doris said.

  “Your great uncle must have smoked them too and the smell got embedded in the upholstery,” I said.

  Just then I heard movement on the stairs. I turned toward the staircase. Even in broad daylight it was impossible to detect anything without proper lighting.

  I suggested that we come back with flashlights or wait until the electricity is turned on.

  Doris nodded.

  “I agree,” Carol said. “I can’t see what I’ve inherited in pitch black. My lawyer suggested that I do an inventory before I call in professionals for an estate sale. Maybe I can get enough profit out of this old hotel to set up the little gift shop that Doris and I have dreamed about.”

  A door slammed upstairs; we made a quick retreat.

  “The wind,” I said.

  “Yes,” they agreed, but we all knew that there was no wind blowing on the second floor and ghosts don’t smoke Cuban cigars.

  4

  Everyone was quiet on the way home. To break the eerie ambiance, I mentioned Giles’s friend, Buddy Pike, as a person who might be able to help with the estate sale. His company was helpful when Uncle Harry moved from his larger place to the smaller bungalow.

  “That’s a great idea, Stephanie. Do you think Giles could be persuaded to help, too? I don’t have any idea what value to affix to some of the books and artwork. And of course, until we have decent light none of us can tell what condition they’ll be in,” Carol said.

  “You know I’ll help,” Doris added.

  “I am sure Giles will be interested. There may be some old books on symbology, medieval history, or another one of his interests. He could give you an idea of what their worth would be.”

  “Do you want me to give Buddy a call and give him your number? That way you can set up a meeting whenever it’s mutually convenient.”

  “Oh yes,” Carol said. She sounded like I had just promised her a chocolate shake when we reached our destination.

  I returned the girls to their car. Instead of going inside the house I decided to visit the library. I wondered if there were any books on the historical places in our town. Surely the architectural students at the university would find these old structures fascinating and worthy to research. The librarian showed me a shelf where those books would be if there were any. Unfortunately, they were all checked out. How could every book on the subject be checked out? She wasn’t helpful enough to tell me that. The library has more security than the bank. I would have to use other means to procure information. There was always the Internet and Google.

  “Pike Estate Sales.”

  “Hey Buddy, this is Stephanie, Giles’s wife,” I said and explained the situation. He was faintly familiar with the area where Carol’s property was located. And as the sign was at half mast, it was hard to see unless you were looking for it. I gave him Carol’s contact info and left the ball in his court. But it seems he wanted to have a conversation.

  “Aren’t you a writer or something?” Buddy asked.

  “That’s me. I’ve written the Diva book series. Perhaps you’ve heard of The Diva Code or my latest, Diva’s Revenge?”

  “I thought that was familiar. But you don’t write under Stephanie Hart, do you? You use another name.”

  “I began writing under a pen name – Stella Holmes. When I did that, I had no idea my books would become so popular,” I answered.

  “My girlfriend has them all. She would be thrilled to meet you,” Buddy continued.

  “That can be arranged,” I said and attempted to get him back on subject. “So, do you think you can get to my friend’s property soon?”

  “I’m pretty booked right now, but I’ll get in touch. Meanwhile, your friend has a lot to do in order to get ready. An estate sale must be organized with every item photographed, priced, and placed in a catalogue. The time of the sale must be carefully planned and advertised to get the maximum clientele. It’s quite a project.”

  “Wow I didn’t realize. When you explain the details to Carol, we’ll start to work on the Hotel Rutherford.”

  “Where did you say?” Buddy asked.

  “The Hotel Rutherford. That’s the property that Carol inherited from her great uncle.”

  “No way. I wouldn’t take that on until it’s checked out by the proper authorities.”

  “What proper authorities?” I asked.

  “Georgia Paranormal Investigators. They have all the equipment to determine spirit infestation.”

  “Spirit infestation?”

  “Hauntings. When they forward their report to me, I’ll get my crew to take over the estate sale. Meanwhile GPI will need to bring their equipment in for a full investigation. I’ll text you the contact info. Their web site explains it all. You won’t be sorry. Tell Giles hello for me.”

  And after dumping all the ghostly information on me, Buddy hung up the telephone. In a few minutes I received a text with a website, phone number, and a link to ghost exterminator sites. What had I gotten myself into?

  5

  Carol took the news about spiritual infestations better than I imagined she would. Doris even thought all of this might be fun. We met the next day for lunch and a discussion I won’t soon forget.

  “We could take notes, Carol. Then perhaps Stephanie could write a book about the whole thing,” Doris said with enthusiasm.

  I hadn’t agreed to do any such thing, but it seemed to pacify Carol, so I played along.

  “Buddy seemed genuinely concerned about the paranormal investigation. He wouldn’t agree to anything connected with an estate sale until it all checked o
ut. I figured that his counterparts would take the same stance,” I explained.

  “Are you sure about this, Carol? Do you want to contact these . . . paranormal investigators?” I asked.

  “There’s bound to be some charge. These paranormal investigators wouldn’t do this for free. Or would they? Maybe we should get a second opinion. Just because we heard a few creaky noises, or a gust of wind doesn’t mean we have an . . . infestation. Or if we do, perhaps its field mice in the pantry or bats in the attic.”

  I pled my case both pro and con. Carol seemed to be taking it all in. She made a list and said that she would let me know what she decided. In the afternoon, I telephoned Buddy that Carol gave the green light. He promised to make all the arrangements. Then I telephoned Giles and put him on speaker so the girls could hear.

  “The investigators are coming to the hotel tonight at sundown. The first consultation is free. The Paranormal Investigators suggested that we bring a digital camera, flashlight with extra batteries, a jacket, and a first aid kit. They will bring everything else. We will meet directly in front of the hotel. Thomas, the head of the group will give us further directions,”

  Carol and Doris seemed perfectly comfortable with arranging for local ghost busters to come on site. They were as calm as if the Canasta club were coming for game night. Giles said he would meet us and bring the appropriate equipment. Apparently, I was the only one who remained leery of the whole thing.

  “What about Harry? I said. “Should we let him know what we are dabbling in?”

  “Best wait until we see what we’re up against before you bring Harry in. You know how emotional he can get,” Carol said. Doris nodded her agreement. I rolled my eyes. He’s not the only one I thought.

  “ Giles and I will see you at sunset at the Hotel Rutherford,” I said and gathered my tote bag where I had accidentally on purpose left my small tape recorder on. I sometimes use it for interviews and felt guilty taping our conversation, but it was a discussion that I needed Giles to hear.