Mulch Ado about Murder

by Edith Maxwell

  “Hey, Ellie,” Cam called.

  She glanced over, grinned, and waved.

  “Let’s hear it for Daisies!” William stood and clapped, setting off a round of clapping from other bystanders.

  One of the Daisy Scouts holding the banner beamed and waved, making her end of the banner sag to the ground. Ellie swooped in and rescued it. A Westbury police officer riding slowly by on a black bicycle gave Ellie a high five.

  A still-arguing Rudin and Geneva emerged from behind the crowd across the street again. Cam couldn’t hear their words, but a woman with three small children looked at the couple with alarm and shepherded her charges in front of her and away from the irate couple. What Cam wouldn’t have given to be standing within earshot on that side of the street. She watched as the two turned into the greenhouse parking lot and disappeared from view. Something had not gone well in their interview, that much was clear.

  After several uniformed Little League teams passed by, the Veteran Fireman’s Association Band approached playing “Yankee Doodle.” Cam spied Vince in the back row of the band, a drum hanging from his shoulders and drumsticks with big padded ends in his hands.

  “Did you know Vince played drums, Uncle Albert?” she asked

  “Can’t say that I did.” Albert’s eyes focused across the street in the gap after the band passed by. “Uh-oh.” He pointed.

  Cam looked to see Rudin at the wheel of the red convertible, now with its top down, and Geneva in the passenger seat. The car faced the street at the entrance to the parking lot. But three rows of people sat or stood in front of it. Rudin beeped the horn as about a dozen adult women in matching T-shirts and black stretchy shorts approached as part of the parade. Several volleyballs popped through the air between them. A young father at road’s edge with a toddler boy on his shoulders turned to the car and waved his hand back and forth in a “No” gesture. Rudin beeped again. The man turned back to the parade, shaking his head, but the little boy kept making the same hand gesture.

  What in heck was Rudin doing? Was he nuts?

  “He can’t just drive into the middle of a parade,” Marilyn said, echoing Cam’s thoughts. “Who is he, anyway?”

  “He’s the ex-husband of the woman who died in the greenhouse,” William explained.

  “My word.” Marilyn shook her head.

  Deb stared across at them, her eyes wide, her lips pressed together. Cam watched as her mom twisted in her seat to face William, almost as if she was hiding from Rudin and Geneva’s view.

  “He certainly can’t drive out onto the road. What’s he thinking?” Cam asked. What was he thinking? She stood to get a better view. Sim’s shop signpost was anchored in a concrete pedestal behind them. Cam climbed onto the base, giving her two more feet of visibility.

  Rudin edged closer to the crowd, pressing the horn. One of the volleyballers, a pretty woman with dark hair pulled back in a short ponytail, hit the ball back to her teammate, then pulled out a phone and thumbed it. A moment later a uniformed Ruth sped up on her police bicycle. She laid it down on the street and blew her whistle. The bystanders quieted. Ruth slid through the crowd until she stood tall in front of Rudin’s car.

  “Move back, sir,” she called, holding both hands up, palms toward the car. She made a pushing movement in the air. “I need you to park the car in back. You’re not going anywhere until the parade passes, which could be another half an hour at least.”

  Rudin glared at her. He threw his hands in the air. He jammed the car into reverse and backed up, not looking. He nearly took out the corner of the insurance building before he slowed and turned around.

  Ruth stood with her fists on her hips until the car disappeared around the back of the building. The volleyball group moved on. Sim, driving her vintage truck, edged forward behind them at a crawl. She tossed handfuls of candy out the driver’s side window and beeped the horn lightly when she saw Cam and family. Ruth retrieved her bike and, after Sim’s truck moved on, she walked the bike across the road to where Cam stood.

  “He had a lot of nerve trying to drive through the crowd and interrupt the parade,” Cam said to her.

  Ruth stood still with her hands on the handlebars, staring at the greenhouse. “I don’t like this. He better not try that again or his ass’ll be in jail in a New York minute.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Rudin hadn’t reappeared and Ruth cycled away. A clutch of Civil War reenactors marched by, Union soldiers in their blue uniforms plus women in wide, homespun skirts and several children in miniature versions of the grown-ups’ costumes. One dark-haired, older woman was quite short and had a broad smile that could light up the darkest corner. She waved to each side of the road in turn and tossed candy out of a woven basket on her arm wherever she saw a child.

  Cam’s mom stood. “I’ll be back.” She headed off across the road.

  “Where are you going?” William asked.

  “I have to talk to Geneva.”

  “To Geneva Flores?” Cam asked. “Why?”

  Deb shook her head and darted across just in time for a big, green antique tractor to avoid running her down. The farmer on the tractor glanced after Deb, scratched her head, and drove on. Deb hurried around the back of the greenhouse and disappeared from sight.

  Cam stared at her father. “What’s she doing?”

  “I don’t have the foggiest idea, dear,” he said.

  “Does Deb know this Geneva woman?” Albert asked.

  “She seemed like she did when she saw Geneva at the brewery, but then Mom said Geneva only reminded her of someone she knew. I guess she could have been lying.”

  “Now, Cameron. You know your mother doesn’t lie.” William pressed his lips together and shook his head

  Cam opened her mouth but shut it again without speaking. Her father’s persistent, sunny view of his wife was all well and good. This week Deb didn’t seem to be acting like the straight arrow William made her out to be.

  “Do you think she’s safe over there with that man, Cam?” Marilyn asked. “The spouse is always the first suspect in the mysteries I read.” Her cheeks were pink as if with the excitement of a real-life mystery.

  “I hope she’s safe.” Cam wanted to tell Marilyn it wasn’t exciting in real life. Murder and its investigation were dangerous and confusing. Excitement wasn’t part of the process. “Daddy, should I go after her?”

  “She’ll be fine,” her father said, waving off the idea. “I don’t think she’d appreciate our interfering in whatever she’s up to.”

  Cam hoped that first part was true. The second part definitely was.

  The weather, which had been pleasantly breezy, with clouds puffing over the midday sun, turned windy and darker. The spectators wearing sunglasses took them off. Sirens ramped into action and grew louder as the town’s collection of fire trucks approached at a crawl, red lights rotating and strobing.

  The first drops of rain splattered the dry pavement in big splotches. They were followed by more and more drops until the rain fell in a steady stream. A flurry of activity set up among the parade watchers. Some unfurled umbrellas, some packed up their chairs and hurried off, some just kept clapping for the fire engines and dashing out for candy. Marilyn opened a wide umbrella and held it over herself and Albert.

  “I should have brought an umbrella, too,” Cam said. And why hadn’t she? Some farmer, neglecting the weather. She shook her head. Her T-shirt was now damp, as were her bare legs. She was glad she’d at least thought to wear a baseball cap.

  “Voila!” William announced, producing a compact umbrella from somewhere. He opened it and motioned Cam to sit next to him where her mother had been.

  She obliged. “Thanks, Daddy. Although I think the fire engines are the end of the parade.”

  Sure enough, after the hook and ladder went by, fourth in the lineup of the heavy, noisy rescue vehicles, that was it, except for a last police cruiser, also with lights and siren activated. Townspeople now filled the road, following t
he engines the quarter mile farther to the Training Field. Skateboarding teens led the pack, getting drenched in the process. The engines would turn around at the green and begin the process of ferrying youngsters back to the fire station for free ice cream.

  “It’s noon. Marilyn and I are going to get back to Moran Manor for lunch,” Albert said. “Hope you find Deb safe and sound.” He gazed across at the greenhouse, his bushy white eyebrows knit together.

  “I hope so, too.” Marilyn handed Albert the umbrella before she stood and went around to the back of her walker, ducking her head back under the umbrella’s shelter.

  Cam also focused across the street. She shivered from being wet, and from worry, too. “I’ll go over and see what’s up.”

  “I’ll bring the chairs to the car,” William said. “Meet you there.” He also stood, setting the umbrella on the ground, and collapsed the first lawn chair.

  “Bye.” Cam kissed Albert’s cheek and Marilyn’s, too. “You guys go get dry. I’ll call you later and fill you in.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Albert said.

  Cam hurried across the street. She made her way behind the greenhouse. Were they inside? No, the police still had the tape up, so it must be locked. She didn’t see anyone in the parking lot. Deb had to be in the cottage with Geneva and Rudin. The crime scene tape blocking the door to the house now hung flapping in the wind from one end. Cam was a few feet from the door when her mother burst out.

  Deb’s eyes were wide and her hair mussed. “He’s dead!”

  Chapter 25

  “What? What are you talking about?” Cam stared at her mother. “Rudin is dead? In the house?”

  Trembling, Deb said, “Yes, but . . .” She shook her head, fast. “It’s . . . he’s . . .” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Mutely, she pointed inside the house and pulled at Cam’s elbow.

  “Wait a sec, Mom. Look at me.” Cam yanked her mother’s hand off her arm. “He died just now?” She pulled out her phone with her other hand and pressed nine-one-one for the second time in a week.

  Deb nodded with fast little movements like a bobblehead.

  “How? How did he die?” Cam asked as she waited for dispatch. She jabbed at the speaker icon.

  “Is this an emergency?” the tinny voice of the dispatcher asked.

  “Yes, a man needs urgent medical care,” Cam said. “At the house behind the Seacoast Fresh greenhouse on Main Street in Westbury. Please hurry.”

  “What is the nature of the illness, miss?”

  “Hang on.” Cam looked at Deb, who just shook her head. “I haven’t seen him. Someone who was with him said he might be dead.” Cam cringed at how ridiculous that sounded. “Please get an ambulance over here ASAP.” She disconnected.

  Deb stood with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering in the rain.

  “Come on,” Cam said. “You’re going to take me to Rudin. I need to see what happened.”

  “No!”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “It’s not Rudin.”

  Cam craned her neck at her mother. “What’s not Rudin?”

  “Rudin’s not dead.”

  “You said he was!” This was turning into a twisted Three Stooges routine.

  “No, I didn’t. He’s not dead. A different man is.” Deb’s eyes pleaded with Cam.

  “A different man?” What the heck?

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know who it is?”

  “No, but he’s that guy who was in Jake’s restaurant that night, the one you told me to look at. The man Bill said was trespassing last night.”

  No. Carlos Griffith! Cam took an extra deep breath and let it out. “Are Rudin and Geneva in there with him?”

  “Yes. You have to come see.”

  “Did one of them kill Carlos?”

  Her mom stared at Cam as if she were a lunatic. “Of course not!”

  “All right,” Cam said, trying to make her calmest voice override her roiling insides. “Let’s go see.”

  Deb turned on her heel and headed through the cottage door, which opened into a hallway. Cam paused for a second. The only sounds were the distant sirens at the Training Field and the murmur of the dissipating crowds. Where was the ambulance that should be speeding toward her, the cruiser full of investigating officers? Cam did a mental head slap. Blocked by hundreds of townspeople and their children, that’s where. But how could the police department not have a team standing by in case of a real emergency?

  Deb turned. “Hurry.”

  * * *

  The scene in the kitchen at the back of the house looked like a vignette from an old crime movie, except for the clothes the actors were wearing. Rudin leaned back against a metal-edged kitchen counter, arms folded. Geneva sat at a small kitchen table painted in now-chipped light shades of green and blue to match the faded floral wallpaper. Cam’s mom stood near the antique white stove, her hands clasped as if to control their trembling. All three stared at Carlos lying half on his side on the worn linoleum floor, his eyes focused on nothing. The open window above the sink let in faint sounds of the sirens and commotion from the Training Field mixed with the patter of the gentle rain.

  Cam squatted and touched Carlos’s neck. No pulse. His skin, still faintly warm, had lost its alive color and now held a yellowish tinge. Poor Carlos. How had he died? She didn’t see blood anywhere. She stood, filled with sadness at his death.

  “What are you doing here?” Geneva stared at Cam, eyes narrowed.

  What are you doing here, Cam thought. Instead she said, “What happened?” His was the third body she’d seen in a year. Emotion rose up just like it had a year ago when she’d discovered the murder victim in her hoophouse, and like when she found Nicole only days earlier. No wonder Deb was so upset. Cam took a deep breath and tried to swallow down the tightness in her throat and a numb sensation all over. She only hoped his was a natural death, not a suspicious one.

  Geneva and Rudin looked at each other. “He came in the back door,” Rudin said. He gestured to the door at the rear of the kitchen, a lace curtain covering the window in the top portion. “Nicole must have given him a key. He said he was looking for something he’d left here. We had a disagreement. A few minutes ago he just fell down. Probably had a weak heart. I don’t know.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  Geneva pointed with her chin at Deb. “After she showed up.”

  “But that was like fifteen minutes ago,” Cam said. “Not one of you thought to call nine-one-one?” What kind of idiots were they, her mom included? “Maybe he could have been saved.”

  “I felt for a pulse,” Deb said, her voice trembling. “He was gone.”

  “Mom, was Carlos already here when you came in?” She hadn’t seen Carlos from across the street, but he was employed at the insurance company. He could have come in early on the holiday to get work done and been in the office building well before the parade began. But what had he been looking for? Maybe a memento he’d given Nicole, or something as innocent as a razor or a book that he’d left behind.

  Deb nodded. “And the three of them were definitely arguing.”

  “About what?” Cam asked. She’d have to wait until later to get her mom to reveal her own reason for joining them.

  “In case you didn’t know, that man was the reason Nicole divorced me.” Rudin pointed at the body. “Two married people who claim to be religious having an affair. It was disgusting. And I told him as much.”

  Something felt very wrong about this story. According to Bobby, Rudin was abusive to Nicole and the affair was just the catalyst for her deciding to leave him, despite what Rudin had said about wanting to woo Nicole back. “Had you met him before?” Cam watched Rudin.

  “No.”

  “You, Geneva?”

  “None of your business.”

  “How did you two get in here, anyway?” Cam looked from Geneva to Rudin.

  “What are you, president of the amateur police corps?” Rudin scoffed. “I
happen to have a key my almost-ex-wife gave me, okay?”

  Speaking of the police, where in the world were they? Cam made a quick decision. She pulled out her phone and pressed Pete’s speed-dial number.

  “Nosy,” Geneva muttered.

  Cam turned her back, but she didn’t dare leave the room. “Pete, I’m in Nicole Kingsbury’s house with my mother, Nicole’s ex, and his friend Geneva Flores. Carlos Griffith is here, too. He’s dead. I called nine-one-one, but they must all be tied up with the parade. Can you come?”

  He swore. “I can’t believe what you just said. But yes, I’ll be there. I’m actually at the Westbury station. Don’t let anyone leave.” He disconnected.

  “Everyone is to stay right here,” Cam said to all of them. “A detective is on his way.” A kitchen clock that was an ad for Gerber baby food ticked steadily forward without a care for the situation in the room. Deb stared at Carlos. Geneva rapped her perfect nails on the table. Rudin, frowning, paced a couple of steps, but the room wasn’t big enough for him to get too far, especially with Carlos occupying square footage on the floor. Cam kept an eye on all three. If Rudin tried to leave, she doubted she’d be able to stop him. She was taller by a few inches, but his stocky, muscular body had a lot more power in it than her tall, thin one.

  Exactly two sweeps of the minute hand later, Pete burst into the room from the hall, followed by Ivan, their hair and shoulders wet from the rain. The back door opened to an EMT carrying a red bag. He stopped short and looked at Ivan. Ivan held up a hand.

  Pete looked at Ivan, too, and gestured. “It’s your show.”

  Geneva examined the blood-red nails on her left hand. “Kind of crowded in here, isn’t it?”

  Chapter 26

  Fifteen minutes later the wheels of justice were turning. Pete kept an eye on Cam, Deb, Geneva, and Rudin in the small front room. Ivan was supervising the examination of the kitchen by an understaffed crime scene team.

  Geneva and Rudin occupied the short sofa in the living room. Cam perched on a hard chair, with Deb in the only upholstered chair. Nobody was talking. At a knock on the front door, Pete frowned.