Death by Association

by Paula Darnell

  “Well, I’m glad you were able to find a babysitter,” I said, ignoring her remark about the detectives. Even though I thought I had done the right thing by reporting her threat to kill Victor, I still felt guilty about it. Relieved, I continued my rounds.

  I was on the opposite side of the room when I learned the reason that Sonya hadn’t blamed me for the detectives’ visit to her home. I overheard some of her neighbors, including the mother of the high-schooler who was babysitting for Sonya’s children, talking about Sonya’s dispute with Victor and her husband Tommy’s dust-up with Victor in the locker room at the golf course. The women were speculating about whether or not the couple’s problem would lead to divorce now that Victor was dead. Evidently I hadn’t been the only person Sonya had confided in.

  “What difference does it make that Victor’s dead?” asked Rhonda Thomkins, a thirtyish blonde who was struggling to slip a jump ring onto a link of delicate sterling silver chain. Her inch-long, fuchsia, gelled nails, each decorated with a single rhinestone, probably didn’t make it any easier for her to assemble the earrings.

  “Well, you know, it could make a big difference to Sonya and Tommy,” Keisha Graves replied, smoothing her wrinkled pink linen blouse. “The HOA might relent now, although I hear that Patty’s not too easy to deal with, either. If she’d just okay their project, rather than forcing them to demolish a perfectly good, brand-new swimming pool and playhouse, maybe things would get back to normal around here. Of course, Victor never would have backed down. I don’t think anyone will miss that jerk, not even his own daughter. I was his wife’s nurse in hospice right at the end, and I’ve never seen a man behave so callously to a dying woman. He may not have cared whether his wife lived or died, but their daughter, Courtney, was really devastated when she lost her mom, and Victor didn’t give her any emotional support at all.”

  “Poor Courtney and poor Sonya too,” commented Abby Petrowski, the mother of Sonya’s babysitter. “I wouldn’t blame either one of them for wanting to get rid of Victor.”

  Rhonda gasped. “You don’t seriously think Courtney or Sonya could have murdered Victor, do you?”

  “As Victor’s only child, Courtney will probably inherit everything, and that would be a powerful motive for murder. Victor certainly kept tight control of the purse strings when he was alive. He retired early, so he must have had a lot of money. Until he was elected president of the HOA, he didn’t do anything around here except play golf,” Keisha volunteered. “As far as Sonya goes, who knows? She was really furious with Victor; that’s for sure.”

  “Shhh,” Abby cautioned as she saw Sonya approaching their table. Suddenly the three ladies became quite absorbed in their projects.

  “Abby, I was wondering if it would be all right for Lisa to babysit for a couple more hours after class today,” Sonya said. “I need to run some errands, and it would be so much easier without dragging the kids along.”

  “I don’t know whether Lisa has anything else planned for this afternoon or not, Sonya. It’s fine with me if she wants to stay longer. Why don’t you give her a call on your cell?”

  “Okay.” Sonya pulled her phone from her jeans’ pocket, and after a brief conversation, returned it to her pocket.

  “We’re all set. She said that she can stay, and I told her I’d let you know.”

  “All right. Thanks, Sonya.”

  “Crisis averted,” Keisha noted in a low voice after Sonya had returned to her seat on the other side of the room. “I don’t think she heard us.”

  “It’s a good thing she didn’t hear us because any mention of Victor really sets her off,” Abby said. “I’m surprised she showed up here today. The way she’s acting as though nothing’s happened—well, it’s a little weird.”

  “Uh, oh. Look who else just showed up,” Rhonda whispered, staring at the classroom door.

  A buzz rippled through the classroom as Courtney entered. Several women rushed over to her to offer condolences on her father’s death. Urging Courtney to come sit at their table, Cynthia and Amy finally succeeded in shepherding her through the throng and into the classroom. Amy grabbed the only remaining chair from the table where Rhonda, Keisha, and Abby were sitting and dragged it to her table, sandwiching it between her seat and Cynthia’s.

  “Sit here with us, Courtney,” Amy insisted. “There’s plenty of room.” Everyone at Amy’s table shifted her chair to make room for Courtney.

  I plucked another kit from my stash and took it to Courtney. The only time I’d met her before had been at a previous DIY Holiday Decorations class the previous November, but I’d certainly heard a lot about Courtney and her troubles in the past day.

  “Hi, Courtney. I’m very sorry for your loss,” I said awkwardly, setting the project kit on the table in front of her.

  “Thank you. I wasn’t going to come to class today, but Eva and Karl—I’m staying with them for now—thought maybe it would take my mind off things, so I decided I’d give it a try. I feel like I should be making the funeral arrangements instead of making earrings, but the coroner’s office hasn’t released my father’s body,” she murmured, choking back a sob.

  “You’ve had a terrible shock, Courtney, and it’s going to be rough going for a while, but I think Eva and Karl are right.” Cynthia patted Courtney’s arm. “Let me show you what we’re working on today.”

  Cynthia arranged Courtney’s silver findings on her grooved bead board and began to explain the first project. Courtney followed along, concentrating on Cynthia’s instructions. I admired Cynthia’s ability to take charge of the situation. I’d always found it difficult to know what to say to someone who’d just lost a loved one. I knew all too well how difficult it was to be on the receiving end of condolences, too. While Courtney responded well to Cynthia’s practical approach, I felt a little guilty about having upset Courtney with my expression of sympathy. Courtney certainly seemed genuinely distressed over her father’s death, and I found it hard to believe that she could have had anything to do with his murder. With a grateful parting glance at Cynthia, I drifted back to the other tables, continuing to circle the room.

  At the last table on my rounds, I found Alice and Amber, both with several pairs of completed earrings on their bead boards in front of them.

  “Hello, ladies,” I said. “It looks as though you’ve been busy.”

  “Amber’s doing all the work,” Alice volunteered. “I’m just here to supervise.” She laughed at her little joke, and everyone at her table smiled. “Honestly, I don’t know how you girls can work with such tiny pieces.” She held up her bead board for me to inspect. “Just look at all the earrings Amber’s put together for me. I’m going to give all my granddaughters earrings this year for Christmas. Maybe there’ll be a little something in Amber’s Christmas stocking, too,” Alice hinted.

  Amber held up her hand. “That’s not necessary. It’s fun making jewelry, and I’m happy to help.”

  “We’ll see, dear.” Alice said, her eyes twinkling.

  I was happy to see that Alice was having a good time. I’d had a few students in the past who had become frustrated and even angry when they weren’t able to complete their jewelry perfectly on the first try. One woman had even thrown her project on the floor and stomped out of the room. Students’ emotional outbursts could easily affect others, and since I aimed for an upbeat atmosphere in the classroom, I could do without the negativity.

  Despite my concerns about Courtney, Sonya, and Alice, the class went well, and the time passed quickly. Most of the women wore earrings they had made as they left the room while others held up their earrings for my approval on their way out the door. After the students left, I quickly returned my supplies and extra jewelry kits to my suitcase, turned off the projector, and shut down the computer. Perching my handbag on top of the suitcase, I rolled it out of the room and down the hallway, stopping in the reception area to dig my car keys out of my purse.

  Just then, Luke entered the building, carrying a pizza bo
x.

  “Lunch,” he said, tapping the box.

  “Don’t let me keep you, Luke. Your pizza will get cold.”

  “Nope. I already ate the whole thing,” he confessed sheepishly. “The box is all that’s left. Say, do you have a minute? I’d like to ask you about something.”

  “Sure.”

  Luke unlocked his office, dumped the pizza box in his waste basket, pulled out a chair for me, and sat down at his desk.

  “I talked to Bessie this morning at the hospital. She should be on her way home by now.”

  “That’s good. When I visited her yesterday, she couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

  “Bessie told me that she’s decided to resign. She’ll be in Monday to make it official and to drop off her equipment. I thought it might be nice to have a little retirement party for her—you know, let her leave on a positive note. What do you think?”

  “That’s a great idea, Luke. I know she’d appreciate it. Do you want to have the party on Monday?”

  “No, I need a couple of days to plan it. Actually, I was hoping you’d help organize the party. It doesn’t need to be anything too elaborate, and we could hold it right here in the meeting room.”

  “I’d be happy to help.”

  “Great!” Luke sighed with apparent relief. “If you don’t mind, we could check with Bessie about it when she comes in on Monday, and then we’ll take it from there.”

  “Sounds like a plan. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you if there’s been any progress in identifying Bessie’s attacker. I know she’s still struggling to remember exactly what happened, but I thought maybe the cameras by the gate showed the attacker.”

  “No such luck. Unfortunately, whoever it was managed to get into the guardhouse without being picked up on camera. One of the cameras has a full view of the entering vehicles, and the left side of the guardhouse. Nothing unusual there. The camera on the other side is angled so that it takes pictures of the exiting vehicles’ license plate numbers. The perp must have been on foot, sneaking along the right side of the guardhouse, coming from behind the camera there. Most pedestrians would take the sidewalk like you did.”

  “I’m on the video?”

  “Yes, there’s a clear picture of you and your dog after you pass the camera and walk to the door of the guardhouse.”

  “Hmmm. Sounds as though the attacker came from inside Hawkeye Haven, not from outside.”

  “It certainly looks that way to me.”

  “It’s a scary thought that one of our own would hurt Bessie.”

  Luke nodded. “And Victor, too, maybe. If I don’t miss my guess, Victor was murdered with Bessie’s gun.”

  “What?” I gasped.

  “I showed up at Victor’s at the same time as the police, and I saw the gun lying on Victor’s sidewalk, a few feet from his front door. That weapon was the same model as our guards’ standard issue. I told the detectives my hunch and gave them the serial number of Bessie’s gun.”

  “Have they been able to confirm that it was the same gun?”

  “I don’t know, but they probably wouldn’t tell me, even if they had confirmed that it was the same gun. SOP, I imagine.” Luke paused, then began waving his arms. “Hey, Kenny,” he called, beckoning the teenager, who’d been passing by, pushing a wide broom.

  “Yeah?”

  “Could you empty the trash cans in the offices when you’re done sweeping?”

  Kenny grunted in assent and continued on his way.

  “Don’t want the office smelling like pizza,” Luke explained. “The ventilation’s not very good in here.”

  “Or in the storage room? I saw Kenny smoking in there earlier today.”

  “Figures. I’ll be sure to tell him to take it outside. That kid’s a pain in the neck. The only reason he’s working here is that his mother’s a board member. Kenny works hard at doing as little as possible.”

  “My classroom was locked when I got here this morning, and, at least, he did come to unlock it for me.”

  “Well, that’s good, but he was supposed to have it cleaned and unlocked long before your class started. Typical Kenny.” Exasperated, Luke shook his head.

  “I’d better be going, but I’ll be in touch with you Monday so that we can coordinate the party arrangements.”

  I left Luke booting up his computer, and as I walked toward the front door, I pulled out my smartphone and started to text my cousin Tracey. I was rolling my suitcase, my handbag still propped atop it, with my left hand, and holding my phone with my right hand while using my right thumb to punch in a quick message to Tracey, who would be returning home this evening. I felt eager to fill her in on all the events of the past few days, events she had missed because she had taken a short trip with her parents, Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bill. Figuring that there was no point worrying her with the crimes that had taken place in Hawkeye Haven while she was out of town, I’d kept my messages to her brief for the past few days. There’d be plenty of time to catch up tomorrow, when the four of us planned to get together.

  I was looking down at my cell phone, and I’d almost finished texting when I crashed into a man who was entering the building. As I extricated myself from the man’s arms, I looked up and saw Lieutenant Wesson grinning down at me. Guess I’d been wrong when I’d told Liz that I’d probably never see the detective again.

  Chapter 8

  “Sorry, Lieutenant, I didn’t see you.”

  “Obviously,” he chuckled.

  Flustered, I could feel a flush sweep over my face.

  “Here, let me help you,” he offered, stooping to gather up the contents of my tote bag that had spilled when I’d run into him. We scurried around, plucking the scattered items from the floor and dumping them back into my handbag.

  “Thanks, Lieutenant Wesson,” I said softly, still a bit breathless from the collision.

  “Wes. Everybody calls me Wes. It’s so much better than Ebenezer.”

  “What? You’re kidding. Your first name’s Ebenezer?”

  “No. You’re right. I’m kidding. It’s really Duane, which I hate about as much as I’d hate being called Ebenezer, Miss McMillan.”

  “Laurel.”

  “Laurel,” he said, smiling. “Were you here to teach a class today?”

  “Yes, my monthly DIY Earrings class. The students make several pairs of earrings each time.” Now, why had I volunteered that bit of information? Surely the detective wasn’t interested in the jewelry that my students made.

  “Did you make those earrings you’re wearing?”

  “Yes, this style was one of today’s projects,” I said, cupping my hand behind my ear.

  “Very pretty,” he commented.

  He seemed about to say something else when his partner burst through the door.

  “What’s taking so long, Wes?” Then Detective Smith saw me. “Oh, I see,” she grunted, scowling at me. “Can we get going now, lover boy?”

  “That’s enough, Sergeant,” Wesson said evenly. “We still need to pick up those records from the security chief here. Why don’t you go get them, and I’ll meet you at the car.” It seemed more like an order than a request. Irritably, Smith stamped down the hallway towards Luke’s office, leaving me alone with Wesson.

  “I’m sorry about that, Laurel,” he apologized. “Sergeant Smith can be a little abrasive at times.”

  “I noticed.”

  “She’s a good detective though, very detail-oriented.”

  I nodded, but just to acknowledge what he’d said. I didn’t care how good a detective Smith might be. I didn’t like the woman.

  “Since I’ve run into you—literally—” he said, grinning at his little joke, “I would like to double-check with you about what you saw Wednesday morning.” Our conversation had turned from light-hearted to serious in a split second, and, even though I hadn’t committed any crimes, the same odd, guilty feeling came over me as I’d had yesterday when the detectives had first questioned me.

  “Oka
y,” I agreed.

  “It’s more important than ever to find out as much as possible about the attack on the security guard.”

  “Because her gun was used to murder Victor?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But it was the same gun, wasn’t it?”

  Wesson frowned. “I really can’t comment on the investigation. Now, I know you told us yesterday that you didn’t see anyone in the vicinity of the guardhouse before you discovered that the guard had been attacked. In retrospect, are you absolutely sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “What about after you found her?”

  “Well, let’s see. After I called 9-1-1, an ambulance, the firefighters, and the police all showed up. So did Luke, our head of security, and then a couple of residents drove up to the gate from outside. Luke asked them to go around to the front gate, so they left. I didn’t really notice whether or not any vehicles drove out of Hawkeye Haven, but wouldn’t they show up on camera, anyway?”

  “No pedestrians hanging around, maybe out of camera range?”

  I shook my head. “No, not that I noticed, but I was too worried about Bessie to pay much attention.”

  “All right.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

  “There’s one more thing. Why didn’t you mention that Victor Eberhart had been threatened at Thursday night’s HOA meeting?” Just as my guilty feeling had begun to subside, it popped up again. Wesson seemed to be implying that I had deliberately neglected to tell the detectives about important information.

  “I don’t think there was any threat,” I said sharply.

  “Other residents told us that Colonel Gable said that Eberhart would regret his actions,” Wesson persisted.

  “Yes, but he didn’t mean it as a physical threat. He was just venting during the meeting because he thought Victor was being unreasonable to mandate the height of the colonel’s flagpole. Colonel Gable’s a war veteran, and he’s very patriotic. Anyway, I talked with the colonel after the meeting, and he said that he planned to let his lawyer handle the situation.”

  “Did anyone else hear what he said?”