Corpse on the Cob

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  Ollie was fiddling with his phone but added, “Sure, come with us. It’ll be fun.”

  “Ollie, would you put that thing down,” Abby chided. “I swear, tonight when you’re sleeping, I’m going to erase those photos.”

  Abby turned to me. “He took photos of the crime scene today. How morbid is that?”

  My ears went on alert. “Photos from the corn maze?”

  “Yes, he’s always shooting things with that phone camera. Sometimes it’s fun, but usually it drives me nuts. Like today.” She made a swipe with her hand for the phone, but Ollie, being a foot taller, easily managed to keep it from her grasp.

  “Did you tell the police about the photos?”

  Ollie and Abby looked at each other in such a way I knew they hadn’t. Ollie finally answered, “I was afraid they’d confiscate my iPhone. I need it for work.”

  “The police really should have those photos. You never know what they might reveal.”

  “That’s what I told him,” Abby added. “But I have to agree with his fear that they would take the phone and not return it, even if we offered to download or e-mail the photos to them. We’re leaving tomorrow morning and didn’t want to be held up.”

  I looked down at the BlackBerry still clutched in my hand. “Tell you what, why don’t you e-mail them to me? I can save them to my BlackBerry and let the police know I have them if they want them. The folks from CPAC are supposed to call me to set up a time to meet.”

  Ollie said, “You sure?”

  “Positive. It’s no big deal if they take the BlackBerry—I’ll still have my regular cell phone. I’m meeting Chief Littlejohn later, I can tell him, too.”

  The young couple discussed it silently through looks and shrugs.

  “Okay,” Ollie announced. “What’s your e-mail address?”

  Since I could access both my personal and work e-mail on the device, I rattled off my personal e-mail address.

  After sending Ollie and Abby on their way to dinner, with a recommendation for the Blue Lobster, I retired to my room to clean up and relax before going to the hospital. E-mails containing photos from the corn maze were coming in from Ollie at a steady pace. Probably either he or Abby were shooting them off to me while the other drove. I also took this time to plug my cell phone into its charger. It was getting low on juice and this was not the time to let it die, one of my bad habits back home.

  Since I hadn’t made the call to Clark to beg off meeting Mom, I decided I might as well get ready. I was fast wishing I’d brought more clothes as I prepared to make my fourth change of the day. Deciding I didn’t want to meet my mother in casual pants, I pulled out the dress and sandals I’d originally put on this morning. I was getting ready to slip into the dress when my cell phone rang. It was Clark.

  “Hold off on coming to the hospital,” he told me.

  “Is Mom okay?”

  “The CPAC guys just left, and she’s exhausted.”

  “Did she finally talk about what happened in the maze?”

  “Nope. Very frustrating for everyone. Grady and I are meeting with her lawyer in a few minutes. He’s not too happy, seeing that she won’t even talk to him.”

  I hesitated before speaking, knowing I was hardly the main priority here. “Um, Clark, did she say anything about me?”

  Now it was his turn to hesitate.

  “She doesn’t want to see me, does she?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  I treated myself to a sad little chuckle. Steele was right, that phrase does smack of bad news and impending doom.

  “I told Grady about you,” Clark continued. “He was relieved to know Mom wasn’t rambling about nothing or hallucinating, though he’s a bit confused and surprised, considering what Mom led us to believe. Then I told the guys from CPAC. I had to, Odelia, you know that.”

  “Yes, of course. I would have told them when they interviewed me anyway.”

  “Tomorrow morning, Odelia. They want to see you at nine tomorrow morning at the station. I told them I’d pass that along to you. Plan on spending a few hours with them.”

  “And what about Mom? Did you speak to her about meeting me?”

  “Yes, I did, just now.” He fell silent.

  I held my breath and waited for him to continue, unsure of what I wanted him to say.

  “Mom wants to see you, Odelia, she really does. But she’s also dreading it. I’m sure you can understand.”

  “Yes, I do, Clark. I feel the same way.”

  I was about to tell Clark abut Ollie’s photos when an upside to this postponement occurred to me. If I told Clark about the photos, I had no doubt he’d want to see them immediately and would tell CPAC about them. They might even want to take my BlackBerry tonight. That would give me no time to review the photos and make my own copies, which I definitely wanted to do.

  “I’m sorry, Clark, but I didn’t hear that.” I was so busy plotting my next move with the photos, I hadn’t heard his last comment.

  “I said, let’s see how she is tomorrow after your meeting at the station. A good night’s sleep might ease the way for both of you.”

  “Good idea. I’m pretty tired myself. I think I’ll settle in with a book.”

  As soon as Clark said good night, I called Greg. He’d just gotten home from the gym.

  “Hi, it’s me. I need a favor.”

  “A plane ticket out of Murderland for tomorrow morning?”

  “Very funny, but no. This is something techie-related—right up your alley. In a nutshell, I need you to be my eyes.”

  I explained about the photos and told Greg I was going to e-mail them to him. I asked him to open each one, enlarge it, and scrutinize it for any minute detail that might be important. My hubs has an eye for detail, especially on the computer. I really wanted to view the photos with him but couldn’t under the circumstances, with the BlackBerry being so limited in size.

  “You’re getting involved, Odelia. Exactly what I asked you not to do.”

  “We’re just looking at photos of the crime scene, Greg. If we find anything tonight, I can point it out to the police tomorrow. I’m not snooping around or anything like that.”

  “Looking at these photos is snooping, Odelia.”

  There was silence, then I heard him say in the background, “Your mommy’s nuts. I hope you guys know that.” A smile crossed my face, and my heart ached to be home. Wainwright and the two cats must have been circling around Greg while he was speaking with me.

  Finally, he spoke to me again. “Okay, I’ll check out the photos, but don’t e-mail them to me. Instead, give me your password, and I’ll access them directly. I don’t want the police to know that you’ve sent those photos off somewhere.”

  My password? In the short time Greg and I have been married, it never occurred to me to share my e-mail password with him. It’s not that I don’t trust him, I do. And I certainly don’t have anything in my e-mails, sent or received, that I wouldn’t want him to see or that might upset him. Most of my online correspondence was with friends and former coworkers that I’d met over the years and a few college friends that I still kept in touch with. It was pretty tame stuff, but it still rattled me as much as if he were snooping in my diary, providing I kept one. I was being silly, and I knew it. Besides, I told myself, if it continued to bother me, I could always change it when I got home.

  As if he’d read my mind, Greg laughed and said, “Don’t worry, Odelia, I won’t read any of your juicy e-mails, just the ones you write to men in prison.”

  “I don’t write to anyone in prison, Greg Stevens, and you know it.”

  He laughed harder. “Okay, then, when you get home, I’ll give you my password. Seems only fair.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass. It’s no big deal.”

  Laughter aside, I went back to the topic of the photos. “Greg, you don’t think Clark Littlejohn is involved, do you? In the murder, I mean.”

  “After talking with Dev, probably not, but you never know. Wouldn’
t be the first time a cop did something underhanded. But just to be on the safe side, I’d rather everyone think you were just passing them along like a good citizen. I don’t want anyone even getting a whiff that you might be involved. Just make sure the police get those photos in the morning.”

  “I will. Oh, and by the way, Greg, calling Dev was really unnecessary, but I love you for looking out for me.”

  “That’s my job, sweetheart. Ocean Breeze Graphics is just a sideline.” His words made me even more homesick.

  It was close to ten when I made my way downstairs in my nightie and robe to the guest pantry to make myself a cup of herbal tea. I had tried to read while I waited for any news from Greg on the enlargements, but I couldn’t keep my mind on my book, so instead I scratched out the skeleton of my new family tree on some note paper I’d found in the writing desk in my room. Three kids, three different fathers, one mother in common. Suddenly, my Christmas card list, like this situation, had become complicated.

  In the corridor, I bumped into Mrs. Friar, the owner of the B & B. The Friars lived in a cute little house next to the Maple Tree Bed and Breakfast. The B & B itself had only four guest rooms, three upstairs and one down, all with private bathrooms. The one downstairs was perfect for the elderly and disabled and had its own private entrance. There was also a kitchen, dining room, and parlor downstairs. Right now, only the couple from California and I occupied the upstairs. An older couple occupied the room downstairs.

  “You’re working late,” I said to Mrs. Friar, a short, energetic woman in her late sixties.

  “We have a guest arriving tonight. Very last minute. Usually we don’t accept guests after eight o’clock, but the Carroltons left today after hearing about the murder at the Tyler farm, and tomorrow that nice young couple is leaving. So any chance we have to fill a vacancy, we’ll take it, late or not.”

  “I would think with this being Labor Day weekend that your inn would be full.”

  “Next weekend it will be, and every weekend right through foliage season, but Labor Day is still a bit early for the leaves. People are still thinking about going to the Cape over Labor Day. The new guest specifically asked about the availability of a ground-floor room, so since the Carroltons vacated, it worked out nicely. I just had to give it a quick clean-up. He said he’d be here around ten.”

  “A single man?”

  “Apparently so. Said he decided at the last minute to come into town and surprise a family member.”

  As we chatted, a dark SUV pulled into the driveway. A man got out. All I could make out in the poorly lit parking area was that he was on the short side and slight, wore a baseball cap pulled down low, and carried a small duffle bag and briefcase.

  “That must be Mr. Carter now.”

  While Mrs. Friar bustled out to greet the new arrival, I closed my robe tighter and continued making my tea, taking my time with it. I could make Mr. Carter’s acquaintance over breakfast the next morning, but I didn’t want to leave Mrs. Friar on her own to greet a stranger. I’m sure she did it all the time and this certainly wasn’t a high crime area, but after the death in the corn maze, I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

  “Here, Mr. Carter, let me show you to your room,” I heard Mrs. Friar say. “Everything’s ready for you.”

  The two of them made their way from the back door down the corridor towards me.

  “This is our guest pantry. There are thermoses of coffee and hot water for tea 24/7 for guests, along with treats like cookies and fruit, including a small fridge to store your own drinks. Feel free to help yourself.”

  As Mrs. Friar passed by me, she made a brief introduction. “And this is Ms. Grey, one of our current guests. Ms. Grey, this is William Carter.”

  Mr. Carter stopped and held out his hand to me. I took it and shook politely, but he didn’t let go. Noting that Mrs. Friar was already several steps ahead, he raised his head so I could see under the cap.

  Mr. Carter winked at me and whispered, “Hello, little mama.

  “Willie!”

  “So much for being incognito.”

  Mrs. Friar turned to us. “You two know each other?”

  “Ms. Grey—actually it’s Mrs. Stevens—is the family member I came to surprise.” Willie, never one to be slow on his feet, added, “I’m her husband’s cousin.”

  Mrs. Friar clapped her hands in delight and beamed at our little reunion.

  Willie, still clutching my hand, said to me, but for Mrs. Friar’s benefit, “Greg told me you were here on family business, so when I finished up my meetings, I decided to scoot over and say hello. No sense you being alone on a holiday weekend.”

  “What a surprise indeed.” I gave him a quick hug, again for Mrs. Friar’s benefit. “I spoke to Greg not too long ago, and he didn’t say a word about you.”

  “I asked him not to just in case I couldn’t make it.”

  Because I was waiting for a call from Greg about the photos, I had brought my cell phone downstairs with me. It chose that minute to ring. The ring identified Greg as the caller.

  “Speak of the devil.” I answered the call with Mrs. Friar and Willie watching. “Hi, honey. Guess who’s here? That’s right, your cousin Willie. What a big surprise. You really should have told me.”

  I handed the phone to Willie. “He wants to say hello.”

  Willie took the phone eagerly, as if he talked to Greg every day. Dollars to donuts, there was something going on that I didn’t know about.

  “Hey, cousin. I made it.”

  Had Mrs. Friar not been watching with a face full of hearts and flowers, I would have insisted on using the speaker feature so I could hear what Greg was saying.

  “Sure, no problem,” Willie continued, “I’ll keep your lady out of mischief. Not to worry.” Willie winked at me, and Mrs. Friar giggled. I twitched my nose. Whatever Greg said next made Willie laugh.

  “Here, talk to lover boy.” Willie handed the phone back to me. “I don’t want to keep Mrs. Friar waiting any longer.”

  As the two of them continued on to Willie’s room, I returned to my conversation with Greg. “What’s this all about, Greg?”

  “I called to let you know those photos are going to take a bit longer to download and review, sweetheart. Lots of cornstalks to scrutinize. It’s like trying to find Waldo.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.” I lowered my voice. “What gives with Willie? How do you two even know each other?”

  “We’re sharing passwords now, why not criminal friends?”

  I was about to say something snotty when Mrs. Friar came back down the hall and headed for the back door. She smiled and told me to have a pleasant evening before she left. I smiled back.

  When I didn’t answer right away, Greg continued. “Willie contacted me shortly after you almost died in that fire in El Segundo. We met, had a few beers, and he gave me his contact info. Said to call on him if you ever got into a situation I couldn’t handle.”

  “I’m not in any situation, Greg; and if I were, I’d handle it.”

  “Well, here’s the crazy thing about this. I didn’t call Willie and ask him to look in on you. He called me to find out where you were. He already knew you were up to your pretty neck in a murder when he called.”

  “But who would have told him?”

  “Beats me, but I’m glad whoever it was did, because I was about to call him myself. And I’m glad Willie was already on the East Coast. He got there in record time. Maybe he can keep you from getting into a situation.”

  Greg told me to go to bed so I’d be fresh to meet the detectives in the morning. He said he would continue looking at photos and would leave me a voice mail if he found anything worth telling the cops about. After hanging up, I freshened my tea and filled another cup with coffee. With both hot mugs in my hands, I headed to Willie’s door and tapped on it with my elbow. After opening the door, he took the offered coffee and waved me inside.

  Willie’s room was much larger than mi
ne and contained twin beds. It had a small sitting area by a bay window with two chairs, a reading lamp, and small, low, tile-top table. Since this room had been outfitted to accommodate guests with disabilities, it was uncluttered with fussy antiques and there was plenty of space between the pieces of furniture. The bathroom and its doorway had been enlarged and the private entrance led to a wheelchair ramp. But even with these adjustments, the overall décor was just as charming as the rooms upstairs.

  “Twin beds? Is Enrique joining you?”

  Enrique, a young, handsome Latino, was Willie’s right-hand man and sometimes-bodyguard.

  “I’m solo this time, little mama. Since he finished his education, Enrique mostly works in-house handling my international businesses. Besides, he’s on his honeymoon. Got married last weekend.”

  The news brought a warm smile to my face.

  I put my mug on the table, plopped myself down into one of the upholstered chairs, and got down to business. “So, why are you here?”

  “First, tell me who else is in the house?”

  Willie was always aware of his surroundings—one of the side effects of being on the lam. “Just a young couple from California. Their room is upstairs across from mine, and I heard them come in just before you arrived. They’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

  Satisfied with my response, Willie sat in the other chair and sipped his coffee before answering. “As to your question, what can I say?” He grinned. “I’m like Batman. Shine a distress signal into the sky, and I leap into action.”

  “So who turned on the signal? I sure didn’t.”

  In response, Willie shrugged and took another sip of coffee.

  “Greg just confessed that you two have become quite chummy.”

  “I like your hubby, Odelia. Great guy. Saw it right off. And he’s smart, too. Not that I would expect you to marry dumb.” He winked at me. “In spite of everything Greg can do, he understands and accepts what he can’t do. After hearing about your last escapade—you know, the one with the serial killer and big-ass blaze—I approached Greg and offered up my services if ever he needed them. He appreciated the gesture, even paid for the beers and pizza.”