Homicide by Hamlet (Cozy Mystery) Book #3 (Chubby Chicks Club Cozy Mystery Series)

by Lois Lavrisa

  Maybe he did this to Winona, and also killed Priscilla.

  Or maybe not.

  I’d find out.

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you. Are you sure that you don’t need any medical attention?” Gerald asked Winona.

  “I think two aspirin will do the trick.” Winona said. “Actually, I’m going to take them now.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I said.

  She smiled weakly. “Thank you for your help.”

  “All right everyone, everything’s fine here,” Gerald announced, “Let’s break it up. See you all back here this evening for the closing ceremony and competition results. Remember it’s a formal event, so that means no jeans or T-shirts. Great job, everyone.”

  The crowd dispersed, leaving Gerald and me alone.

  “So, I guess this week in camp will go down in history.” I made small talk as I tried to navigate our new relationship terms.

  “I’m glad Winona’s okay.” He glanced around, as if sizing up the area. “Thank goodness. But what a scare, huh?”

  “You got that right, definitely scary. When I heard a crash and saw smoke, I was sure there was a fire.”

  “You like to go out with a bang don’t you?” He chuckled.

  “It’s the only way to go.” I smiled.

  “I’ve got to finish up some things before the ceremony.” He held my hand while looking into my eyes. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

  My knees felt weak and I murmured, “Me too.”

  Bezu ran up to me. “I just heard about the accident. What in tarnation is going on here? Are you okay?”

  “Everyone is fine, but Winona got hit on the back of the head.”

  “Is she okay?”

  I nodded.

  “What did she get hit with?” she asked.

  “A special effects machine.” I pointed to it.

  She put her hand on her chest. “Who did it?”

  Scowling I said, “I have a hunch that it was Dwight.”

  Bezu drew in a breath. “Good gracious!”

  “This has been a bizarre week,” I said.

  “My Lord, bizarre is right!” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “Priscilla and Dwight nearly got run over by a wayward car, my car. Then poor Priscilla died. Then you got hit by that ghost prop, and now this.”

  “Thank goodness camp is over today, it seems like the whole week has been cursed.” I paused. “Maybe by the small angry child or animal spirit Umika keeps sensing.” I explained Umika’s recent vision to Bezu.

  “There aren’t any animals or small children here,” she said.

  “I know. But when Umika talks about it, I believe her.” I sighed. “I mean, in my heart I know that she’s one hundred percent convinced it was real to her.”

  “And for her to sense that the spirit is angry? It gives me goose bumps.” Bezu rubbed her arms.

  “I know. Too bad she couldn’t sense the name of the person who caused all the chaos this week. That would make it a lot easier.”

  “Right.” She pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail. “What are you going to do next?”

  “Talk to Dwight. It’s the final day we’re all here. So it’s my last chance,” I said. “Unless you want to talk to him?”

  “No thanks,” Bezu said. “I’ll let you have the pleasure.”

  “That’s only because you know it’s anything but pleasant talking to him.” I gave her a playful push.

  She grinned and gave me a dismissive hand wave. “I guess I’ll get back to work. You have fun with my ex.”

  I found Dwight leaning against a wall near the janitor closet. A broom, mop and bucket stood outside the door. “Did you hear what happened to Winona?”

  He stopped tapping his cell phone. “Excuse me?”

  “You didn’t hear what happened to her?” I studied his expression, hoping I could tell if he was sincere or not.

  “Hear what?” He shoved his phone in his back pocket.

  “Someone hit her in the head and knocked her down.”

  His eyebrow rose. “Oh?”

  “Yes, and I was wondering if you knew anything about who could’ve done that to her?”

  “Why would I?” His mouth twisted.

  “You never know.”

  Dwight frowned. “You think I did it?”

  “I heard that you were in the area when she got hit.”

  “But not when it happened, I left her a while ago.” He stifled a yawn.

  I shrugged. “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, and here for that matter.”

  Dwight’s eyes narrowed. “Are you quoting Hamlet to me?”

  I pressed a little more, hoping to further rile him. Often people blurted out the truth when they were angered. On the other hand, some people just wanted to punch something when they got angry. I was rolling the dice, hoping he would do the former of the two. “I’m just saying, anytime I ask you about your involvement in Priscilla’s death, or really anything, you doth protest too much, methinks.”

  “C’mon, now! Another Shakespeare quote? You’re really a piece of work.” He threw his hands in the air, his voice rising. “I can see why Priscilla couldn’t stand you. With all your superiority bullshit.”

  I kept pushing. “Dwight, I get it, if you did something out of desperation.”

  “Me? Why do you think that?”

  “Just a theory. Please hear me out. One minute is all I need.” I was a steamroller unable to stop.

  He shook a finger at me. “You’re crazy.”

  “Let’s say you got backed into a corner. Maybe you were in deep financial straits, and Priscilla bailed you out. Except, that still wasn’t enough to pay off your debts. You had to get more money, a lot of it, like from a life insurance policy.”

  “You know what I think of your theory?” His face reddened, as he leaned into me. “That you need to get the hell away from me. You’re a freaking lunatic.”

  “But now is the time to tell the truth, to clear this up.” Was his angry reaction because I’d hit a nerve? Or because my insinuations were wrong? “Level with me, did you or did you not have anything to do with Priscilla’s death?”

  He grabbed a nearby broom and held it in the air.

  I readied myself so I could kick him in the groin if he tried to attack me. I’d have him crying like a baby in no time.

  No one messed with me.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Dwight, put that broom down,” Gerald’s voice boomed.

  Dwight, shaking, set it down. “She’s a nuisance, a pest!”

  “Seriously?” I raised my hands.

  “You’re a nasty old bag.” Dwight glared at me.

  “Dwight, I apologize for making you mad. But you don’t need to resort to name calling,” I said.

  Gerald walked over to me, and placed a hand on my back. “Are you okay, Annie Mae?”

  “Great,” I said.

  “What about me? I’m not okay! I want to press charges against her, for aggravation.” Dwight moved toward me and stuck a finger in my face.

  “Then I want to counter. I’ll press charges that you threatened me with a weapon,” I said.

  We stood face to face, like in a stand off in an old western movie. Neither of us budged as we waited for the other to make the first move.

  Gerald grabbed Dwight’s shoulder. “You need to calm down, young man. Why don’t you take a walk?”

  He huffed and stomped off.

  “I was, sort of, provoking him,” I admitted to Gerald.

  “You were? Why?” He folded his arms over his chest.

  “To get him to crack,” I said. “You see, I think that he might have killed Priscilla, perhaps in a jealous rage.”

  “Over another man?” Gerald asked.

  “No,” I continued. “Over her daughter.”

  “Priscilla’s? I thought she was childless.” Gerald grinned. “Unless you include Dwight.”

  “Right, they had quite an age difference
.” I laughed.

  “Hey if it worked, then more power to them.” Gerald shifted his stance. “Dwight was totally out of line with the name calling.”

  “Yes, but I can’t blame him for getting mad at me. Although, I appreciate you stepping in and defending me. You’re always the gentleman.”

  “So, you planned to have him all worked up, enough that he almost hit you?”

  “I didn’t know he’d try to hit me, but I guess in hindsight, I did aggravate him a bit too much.” I paused and looked away, kind of embarrassed of my tactic which, in retrospect, seemed a bit immature.

  “Oh.” Gerald shifted his stance.

  I tried to explain my method. “When people get angry, they lose control, and say things they normally wouldn’t say. I’d hoped he’d confess and tell me what he did to Priscilla and Winona.”

  Gerald inched forward. “You really do think he killed Priscilla, don’t you?”

  “Possibly.” I added, “He’s the beneficiary of her life insurance policy. And apparently they won’t pay his claim yet, or maybe ever, because Priscilla’s death is being investigated as a murder.”

  “I see. So you think he has motive for killing her?”

  “And opportunity. You told me that he was here the night Priscilla was killed.”

  “Also, remember, Winona and I were here too. As well as two of your team members.”

  “Yes.” I held a hand up. “But my students were cleared. I’m positive they had nothing to do with it.”

  “Right.”

  “And Priscilla couldn’t have cracked her own cranium with the skull prop. So that leaves Dwight.”

  “And Winona.” Gerald rubbed his chin.

  I laid my hand on his arm. “You’re right. That leaves Dwight and Winona.”

  He massaged the back of his neck.

  “They both had motive. If Winona was her daughter, then being left out of Priscilla’s life and her inheritance would be a big deal.”

  Gerald ran a hand through his hair. “That would hurt a lot. Can you imagine a daughter not being acknowledged by her own mother?”

  “No kidding, that would be terrible. And cause so many issues.” I stopped. My thoughts flooded with Umika’s vision. “Oh my goodness. A small angry hurt child or spirit. Like in a person’s spirit!”

  “Now you think a ghost had something to do with it?” His forehead creased.

  I told Gerald about Umika’s vision. “You see, Umika’s dream was right. Because Priscilla hadn’t acknowledged Winona as her daughter, Winona must’ve been wounded and angered beyond belief. A child, no matter how old, would never get over that, ever.”

  “You’re right. You think that gave Winona motive enough to kill her own mother?”

  I shivered at the thought. “Perhaps. But I still think Dwight could’ve done it too.”

  Gerald asked, “How are you going to find out who did it, now that you’ve narrowed it down to two people?”

  “I was in the process of interrogating Dwight when you arrived,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?” He lowered his eyes. “You looked like you were in trouble.”

  “No, its okay. You were trying to be a hero. That’s sweet and kind of cute.” I touched his arm. “But you have to know something about me, I can save myself.”

  “I know you can, and that could make a guy, like me, feel unwanted,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

  “I’m the type of guy who needs a princess that I can rescue from the fire breathing dragon. To be the hero in her life,” Gerald said.

  “And I’m the type of woman who likes being a heroine alongside a man; like superheroes.” I felt warm and comfortable because were talking again as friends with a hint of romance.

  He chuckled. “You’re an independent woman—I agree with you.”

  “Yes, and I can save myself. I planned on doing a self-defense move on Dwight before you showed up. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need anyone,” I said. “Having a partner who thinks of me as an equal is important.”

  “I don’t think you’re equal.” He brushed his hand along my arm. “In a whole lot of ways, you’re better than me.”

  Winona approached me, interrupting us. “Excuse me, can I talk to you Dr. Maple?”

  “Don’t mind me, I was just leaving,” Gerald said. He whispered in my ear. “I’ll be close by in case you need me.”

  “Remember, I have my own cape,” I said to him before he left. “Did the aspirin help?” I asked Winona.

  “What?” Her eyes widened, as if surprised by my question.

  “Your head injury?” I said.

  She looked away. “Oh that? I’m fine.” She touched her forehead. “The aspirin worked.”

  I had a feeling that something was wrong. Why did she hesitate? It was as if she’d forgotten she’d been clunked on the back of her head.

  Could Winona have faked the accident in order to draw attention away from her and onto Dwight?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “When I cleaned out Priscilla’s office, I found an envelope marked Theater Camp,” Winona said. “It had this year’s date on it.” She handed me a large manila envelope.

  “What’s in it?” I asked.

  “I didn’t sort through it.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek.

  “Why are you giving it to me?”

  “I thought you might be interested, or pass it along to someone who might need it for next year’s camp.”

  “Thank you. I wonder if there could be anything in there that’s related to her death.”

  Winona shrugged. “If there is, I’d appreciate it if you passed it along to the police.”

  “Will do.”

  “I thought you’d know if it might be helpful for someone else, since you won’t be here next year.” She slid her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Regardless, you can have whatever’s in there. I was just going to throw them out anyway.”

  “I’ll take a look.” I placed the envelope in my purse. “But I have to know something first, and I’d appreciate it if you were honest.”

  Winona raised her eyebrows and clutched her purse in front of her. “Well, it depends on the question.”

  I held up my hand. “No, you have to agree that you’ll answer it truthfully, no matter what I ask.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because it could matter a lot to you.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Fine.”

  “Are you Priscilla’s daughter?”

  Tears welled in Winona’s eyes. She whispered. “Yes.”

  I reached out and laid a hand on her forearm. “I’m so sorry about what happened to your mother.”

  She sobbed. “It’s been awful. She told me that I could never, ever tell anyone. But now she’s gone, and I’m still not sure if I should tell anyone.”

  “Why did she keep your relationship a secret?” I asked.

  Sniffing she said, “Because she had me when she was eighteen years old. I was born in June, right after her high school graduation. She hid the pregnancy because she was so ashamed.”

  “Prom is usually a month or two before graduation. That meant that she was pregnant with you in the picture on her poster,” I pointed out.

  “I noticed that too.” She put on a faint smile. “I’m glad that she decided to have me. I mean, my adoptive parents were wonderful. Old, but wonderful. They’re both gone now.” She wiped her eyes.

  “You poor thing. Do you know who your biological father is?”

  She shook her head. “On my birth certificate it said ‘Angelo Cayman.’ I researched it and couldn’t find anyone with that name in Savannah. In the end I guess, it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t a part of my life. I assume either she told him and he decided that he wanted nothing to do with me, or that she never told him at all.”

  Poor kid. “How did you end up working for Priscilla?” I asked.

  “After my adoptive parents died,
I did some research and found Priscilla. But that was a disaster. She wanted nothing to do with me, until I told her she was all I had left.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Me too.” She looked down. “Anyway, she took pity on me, paid my rent and gave me a job. But I had to promise her that I’d never tell anyone that she was my mother. Ever. This year, it was more important than ever to keep the secret because she let me work with her at theater camp, and I couldn’t breathe a word about our true relationship. To the world we were boss and dutiful assistant. But it didn’t matter, I just wanted to be in her life.”

  Did having to keep such a painful secret become so overwhelming that it enraged Winona enough to commit matricide? I shook my head. “That must’ve been difficult for you.”

  “Yes. But it was good that I got to spend so much time with her, not that it made up for all the years she wasn’t in my life.” Winona sniffed.

  “She missed out on so much, I can’t even imagine.” I sympathized.

  “But all the same, I understand why she felt she had to do it. At the time, her parents refused to acknowledge her pregnancy. She told me that after I was born, and given to my adoptive parents, her parents acted like nothing happened. Like I never happened. I always had this deep longing to be a part of my real family. Too bad that’s never going to happen.”

  “What a shame.” I added, “But why continue to keep it a secret after all these years?”

  “She had a reputation in the community to uphold. And a young fiancé.” She scowled when she said fiancé.

  “You don’t like Dwight, do you?”

  “No,” she said. “And it has nothing to do with him being closer in age to me than he was to her. It had to do with him being a conniving parasite.”

  “Please tell me how you really feel, don’t hold back,” I joked, attempting to lift her mood.

  “He took advantage of her, and she was too blinded by his looks and youth to see it,” she said. “She was all about keeping up a façade.”

  “Then why are you helping him now?”

  “You know the saying, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’ Well, I have to find her prenuptial. She mentioned that she’d had one done because she was afraid he’d leave her for a younger woman.” She paused. “One his own age.”