Murder Is No Accident

by A. H. Gabhart

  “Are you all right, Justin?” Michael asked.

  “Hard to be all right with what’s been happening. I’ve got to talk with Ellen Elwood later today and nobody has given me any information on when Sonny’s body will be released. Buck said they would do a routine autopsy in Eagleton, even though the cause of death was plainly evident.” Justin lowered his voice when two people came in the door at the end of the hall. “Do you think my finding of accidental death for Geraldine was wrong?”

  “You weren’t wrong about the fall causing her death.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” His face lost some of its tenseness. “It’s good to see Grant back here in Hidden Springs, isn’t it? Not for this reason, of course, but he appears to be very successful. Sells flowers on the internet, they say. The internet is going to put everybody out of business.”

  “Not you, I wouldn’t think,” Michael said.

  “Who knows? Online funerals may be the next big thing.” Justin looked over Michael’s shoulder as the door opened again. This time he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Vernon Trent there is busy selling everything he can lay hands on that way.”

  “That’s his business.” Michael looked around at the man.

  Trent’s smile was subdued as he came toward them, but it was there. “Hello there, Justin. Michael. Too bad about poor Geraldine and then Sonny Elwood getting shot. Still can’t get my mind around that.”

  “Yes,” Justin said. “Quite tragic.”

  Trent shifted subjects without a hitch. “You ready to sell me that lamp in there, Justin?” He pointed toward the chapel. “I’ll give top dollar.”

  “Your top dollar or the internet’s top dollar?” Justin kept his face solemn. No answering smile for Trent.

  “A man has to make a profit or he can’t stay in business.” Trent glanced around. “I’m sure you make a tidy profit every time somebody dies.”

  Justin didn’t answer him. “If you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend to.” He gave Michael a tight smile and nodded curtly to Trent before he turned on his heel to go back into his office.

  “Strange fellow, but I guess that’s what it takes to be an undertaker.” Trent looked toward the chapel. “You already paid your respects?”

  “Yes.” Michael eased toward the door.

  “They say her son is rolling in dough.” Trent stepped with him, still talking. “It must be nice. Me, I have to work for every dollar I make.”

  “I guess that’s the challenge of starting up a business.”

  “Yes sirree. I’m the one who has to make things happen. And I can do it too.” Trent’s smile turned shrewd. “What do you think will happen to all that stuff in the Chandler house? They’ll have to sell it, don’t you think?”

  “Sonny Elwood died. Not Miss Fonda. She’s the one who owns the place.”

  “Yeah, but the old lady must be way up there. She can’t live all that much longer, and believe me, that house has some treasures.”

  “Have you been in the house?”

  “Not yet. But I’ve heard people talk. Must be a fortune in there.”

  “Sometimes people talk without knowing what they’re talking about.” Michael wondered if the man ever thought about anything but making money.

  “You’re right there, Deputy. That Betty Jean, she’s a talker too. I haven’t seen her for a few days. You been working her too hard at the courthouse?” His smile was back.

  “Betty Jean keeps her own schedule so you’ll have to ask her that. She’s in there.” Michael motioned toward the chapel.

  “Sure enough? You see everybody at the funeral home, don’t you? Guess I’d better go get the viewing over with.” He went on toward the chapel.

  For a second, Michael considered following him to see what Betty Jean would do with both her potential suitors in the same room, but instead, he fingered the ring box in his pocket and headed for his car.

  Hank Leland was climbing out of his old van when Michael headed across the parking lot. The editor tried to flag him down, but Michael just waved back, got in his car, and drove away.

  Michael checked his watch and drove past the high school. He met a state police car patrolling too. Maggie was safe inside.

  After he left the school, he stopped at the store to buy a chocolate toffee bar. Alex’s favorite when she was a teenager. Then he went to the flower shop for a single yellow rose. He thought about making one more stop at the church. But a man could pray anywhere.

  By the time he got to Reece’s house, he could barely swallow. He didn’t know when he’d ever been so nervous. But he was putting everything on the line. Everything. He had reason to be nervous.

  He didn’t go to the door. He waited by the maple tree the way he always had when they were kids. The weather was nice. Sunshine. A little breeze. Good for Geraldine’s funeral. Good for a proposal. He kept the rose in his hand, but hid the candy in his pocket with the ring box. Best not overwhelm her.

  As if a candy bar and an antique ring could be overwhelming. When had he gotten so foolish? Such small, common things weren’t going to convince her to give up a high-profile career for him. But who said it had to be her who gave up something?

  He thought about how the organ music would be starting soon at Justin’s funeral home. Geraldine expected to be selling houses this week. Not be the main player in a funeral. Then there was Reece inside. The old lawyer would be fishing on a day like this if not for a stroke changing things for him in an instant.

  Life could be that way. Michael saw that often enough as a police officer. As much as he wanted everything to be good and come out right, he had witnessed plenty of times when it didn’t. The way it hadn’t for Sonny Elwood. While Michael still couldn’t imagine why Sonny ended up dead in the library room of the Chandler house, he had.

  Michael pushed all that aside. He would have to do his job and find the murderer, but right now, this moment, he was going to think of nothing but what he wanted most in life. Alexandria Sheridan to be his wife.

  31

  The minutes dragged by. Sometimes Michael felt as though half his life had been spent waiting. Could be it was time for the waiting to be over. Time for him to stop acting like a scared teenager and go knock on the door. Not just knock. Bang on the door. Lay his heart at her feet.

  But he stayed where he was. He wasn’t that great at romantic moments. He hadn’t found a way to put his proposal up in lights or have an airplane write it across the sky. He didn’t even have a ring made just for her.

  Instead he’d stepped back in time to a place where things were easier for them. They’d solved the world’s problems in the shade of this tree. They’d made up after fights countless times. Here, future success and love had dangled enticingly in front of them. The success had come for Alex and for him too, he supposed. But right now, he was more worried about love.

  Ten minutes after one, the door opened and Felicia Peterson came outside. Alex stepped into the doorway behind Felicia, who had her head down as she walked across the porch and down the steps. Alex looked straight at Michael—she knew he’d be there—and held up five fingers for him to give her a few more minutes.

  “Take your time,” he called as she shut the door. He didn’t have anything else to do. Except catch a murderer.

  Felicia jerked her head up to stare at him. “Oh, I didn’t see you there.”

  “Sorry, Felicia. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He put the rose down on the ground and walked across the yard toward her.

  She backed up a step. “I-I was talking to Miss Sheridan about working for them. You know, since Mr. Sheridan had a stroke. I guess you knew he had a stroke. Then all this other happened and things got crazy.”

  “I tried to find you last night to tell you about Sonny. I left you a message to call.”

  “I saw it. But I already knew about Sonny and I just couldn’t talk to anybody then. You know?” Felicia blinked a few times, but she wasn’t crying. “Do you know who did it?”

 
“It’s under investigation.” Michael tried to sound confident. “We’ll catch the responsible party.”

  “Responsible party.” Felicia echoed his words. “I wish I was going to a party instead of a funeral.”

  “I’m sorry about Sonny. I know you were close.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Felicia swallowed hard. “I saw police cars at the Chandler house. Nothing else happened there, did it?”

  “No. The police were checking for fingerprints. Things like that.” Michael wondered if the shock of Sonny’s death was too much for Felicia. She didn’t seem herself.

  “I’ve been in the house. My fingerprints will be there.” Her forehead wrinkled in a worried frown. “Ellen had me get things for Miss Fonda sometimes.”

  “You’ll have to come in and leave your fingerprints for comparison.”

  “Oh.” Felicia stuck her hands in her pockets.

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  “I know.” Felicia gave him a shaky smile. “I did fingerprints once for a job I was trying to get. You know, so they could run a background check.”

  “Then your fingerprints might already be on file and you won’t have to worry about it.”

  “I’m not worried. I didn’t do anything.” But she looked worried.

  The door opened behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at Alex coming outside. “I gotta go. But will you tell Miss Sheridan I really need the job?”

  “I can tell her, but Miss Sheridan makes her own decisions.” Michael looked past Felicia at Alex. She wasn’t running toward him the way she had as a kid. The way he’d hoped she might.

  “Yeah,” Felicia said. “I wish I could make my own decisions.”

  Before Michael could say anything else, she hurried on down the walk to her car.

  Alex stopped beside him to watch Felicia leaving. “I think the girl has problems.”

  “Her boyfriend just got murdered.”

  “Right. I told her it wasn’t going to work out, but she said she needs the job. She told me that at least six times after she got here.”

  “She asked me to tell you the same.”

  “I feel sorry for her.” Alex blew out a breath. “Her fiancé murdered. Yesterday. But I can’t hire her.”

  Michael wasn’t surprised, but he was curious. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. Something’s just not quite right.” Alex made a face. “I’m not sure what, but I couldn’t saddle Uncle Reece with her.”

  “Good decision.” He wanted to ask if that meant she was staying longer, but he didn’t. He had a more important question to ask.

  “But what am I going to do? Uncle Reece needs somebody.”

  “First, you need to stop worrying about it for a few minutes.” He reached over and gently smoothed away the worry lines creasing her forehead with his thumb. “Come sit in the shade with me.”

  She hesitated. “We can go inside. The coffeepot is still on.”

  He took her hand. “It’s nice out here. Like old times.”

  She resisted when he pulled her toward the tree. “There’s leftover pie.”

  He kept her hand in his but stopped to look directly into her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t want to talk to me? Out here alone.”

  “You mean here in the middle of memory lane?” She slid her glance away from him toward the tree.

  “Memory lane can be a good place.” He kept his eyes on her face. “Are you afraid to go there? Afraid to talk to me?”

  “Afraid might be too strong a word.” She looked back at him.

  “Then what?”

  “Concerned.”

  “About what?”

  “Hey, I’m the lawyer. I’m supposed to ask the questions.” She smiled.

  He didn’t let her turn the conversation. “But I asked this one. Why are you afraid? I mean, concerned.”

  “You’re different, Michael.” Her smile drained away.

  “How so?”

  “Like this. Looking at me like this.” She waved her free hand toward him, but didn’t pull her other hand away. “Before, at least since we grew up, you always pretended not to love me and I pretended not to care.”

  “I thought it was the other way around.” He tugged on her hand and this time she let him lead her over into the shade. “But don’t you think it’s time to stop pretending?”

  “More questions. You seem to be full of them today.” Again she tried to shift the conversation. “Are you sure you don’t want some pie?”

  “I’m sure. I’ve got something for you.” He picked up the rose. “For you.”

  She pulled her hand free then to take the rose. “Yellow roses are my favorite.”

  “I know.”

  She leaned back against the tree trunk and sniffed the rose. With her wavy dark hair falling down around her shoulders, she was so beautiful that the sight of her grabbed Michael’s breath.

  “I could have changed since we were kids. Started liking pink roses better,” she said.

  “But you didn’t.”

  A smile played around her lips before she sniffed the rose again. “No sweet smell to this one. Does Malinda still have that rose in her garden that your great-uncle cultivated? The yellow one with that divine scent?”

  “She does. We can walk up there to see if it has a late bloom.” Aunt Lindy’s rose garden might be the perfect place for a proposal.

  “It’s too late. There’s already been a frost, hasn’t there?”

  “Sometimes roses surprise you, but we can go look later.” He pulled the candy bar out of his pocket. “I’ve got more treats.”

  “Another favorite.” She laughed as she reached for the toffee bar. “You always were a romantic.”

  “And a big spender too.” He smiled back at her.

  A smile lingered on her lips that he wanted desperately to lean down to kiss, but first things first. He could feel the ring box in his pocket against his leg. Then again, if the answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear, he might never get that kiss. A man couldn’t stay on the brink hesitating forever. Time to go for it all.

  He traced his finger across her cheek. Her smoky blue eyes searched his as he leaned down to touch his lips to hers. She moved into his embrace, her hand sliding around his neck to push long fingers into his hair. Time seemed to stand still and he wanted it to as long as Alex was in his arms.

  A blue jay squawked up in the tree and Alex pulled back from him. “Always a critic hiding out somewhere.”

  Michael paid the bird no notice and kept his eyes fastened on hers. “Alexandria Sheridan, I love you.” Her eyes widened a bit and he rushed out the next words before she could say anything. “Will you marry me?” He pulled the ring box out of his pocket and held it up to her.

  She glanced at it and then back at his face. Tears floated in her eyes. She blinked and a couple of drops escaped down her cheek. “Oh, Michael, I knew you were going to do this. Ever since last summer when you faced down that murderer and Malinda told us to stop wasting time, I knew you were going to ask.”

  He brushed her tears away with the tips of his fingers with the awful feeling they weren’t tears of joy. “Is that why you stayed away from Hidden Springs?”

  She didn’t shy away from the truth. She never had. “It is. I didn’t want to answer.”

  “It’s not hard to say yes.” His heart felt as though it were being squeezed.

  “But it is. Very hard.”

  “Are you saying you don’t love me?” The ring box in his hand suddenly weighed a hundred pounds.

  “You know I can’t say that.” A couple more tears slid down her cheeks. “I do love you. I have always loved you, but our lives are too different.”

  “Not so different. We love each other. We can work the rest of it out. I’ll find a job in Washington.”

  “You’d be miserable, Michael. You know you would and soon you’d hate me.”

  “Never. That could never happen. You are all I need to be happy.”

  “You want ch
ildren.” She stared straight at him.

  “You don’t?”

  “I don’t have time for children right now.”

  “Or time for me?” Sadness fell down on him like he’d stepped in a waterfall of it. He’d asked and she’d answered.

  She blinked away her tears and stared straight at him. “No. No, I don’t.”

  “You can’t say no.”

  “I can’t say yes.” She pushed away from the tree. “I’m sorry. So very sorry.” She stepped away from him, then turned toward the house.

  He watched until she went through the door and shut it behind her. She didn’t look back. He stared at the door another long minute. What did a man do when he went to the brink and jumped off only to find nothing but rocks at the bottom?

  The rose lay where she dropped it. He put the ring back in his pocket and walked away.

  32

  “But somebody needs to feed Miss Marble.” Jesse had been pestering Maggie about going to feed the cat ever since they got home from school. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t go to Miss Fonda’s house.

  Maggie had done all right at school. Better than Monday when she was trying to hide everything. It wasn’t all on her shoulders now. Her parents knew about her being in the house. She’d told what she heard the day Mrs. Harper died and nothing had happened. She and Jesse were okay.

  Mr. Elwood wasn’t. That wasn’t good. She did her best to block away the sight of him slumped in the chair staring at nothing. That wasn’t too hard to do at school while she concentrated on her classes. When worries did creep into her thoughts, she thought about her dad. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Jesse. Or her.

  That morning during study time, she looked up Alcoholics Anonymous on one of the library computers. She’d even checked out the program they had for kids of alcoholics. It helped to know about things. For sure, she didn’t want to cause problems and be a reason her father might slip back into drinking.

  So at school things were fine. On the bus going home with the kids chattering all around her, things were okay. At the house, things were still all right. Her mother was at work, but her father’s truck was in the driveway. But then when they went inside, he had his keys in his hands. He’d gotten a call about a job.