“I just figured they might not deliver to me here because my name isn’t on the address.”
“They know we have guests here,” Renmar said. It seemed her feelings were hurt.
“Sorry,” Koryn said.
Charlie spoke up. “That’s the reason I came.” She looked at everyone. “To say, ‘Sorry.’”
“Why would you need to say sorry,” Brie asked. Renmar hadn’t had two words to say to her since she had walked through the door.
“For Ron,” she said and hung her head. “He went and planned this memorial service without any input from you and Oliver was closer to you then us. Me. At least now that I hadn’t seen him in so long.”
It looked like she was going to cry.
Brie got up and put her arm around her. “It’s okay, Charlie.”
“No it’s not. But he doesn’t mean any harm. Really,” she said and looked at Renmar. “You needed pay no never mind to him. He’s all bark and no bite. Just full of hot air.”
“Well, I’m glad you told me,” Renmar finally said something to Charlie. “I’ll be sure to bring one of Mother’s long, sharp hat pins to the service with me and give the old guy a poke!”
Everyone, even Charlie, laughed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was a beautiful summer day. The sun was a vibrant yellow, and its haze seemed to dance and shimmer in the bright blue sky. A soft breeze came in from the river and the air was filled with the sounds of people gathering.
The wooden church was painted white, complete with steeple and large stained glass windows. Ten steps ended at a stone slab porch that ran the entire length of the building encased by Tuscan-styled columns. Three sets of double doors lining the front of it were wide open.
It seemed that the whole town, all five-hundred-eighty-three, came to Oliver’s memorial service. And Ron Anderson stood at the door like he was welcoming them into his home. He greeted each of them as they filed into the open doors, shook their hands, patted them on their shoulder and passed out tissues from a big box he kept on the table behind him as the need arose. The Pastor, ousted by Ron, stood behind him, and smiled and nodded at each person as they graced the sanctuary.
A large picture of Oliver sat the front of the church. Propped on a large easel, it set next to the casket that was covered in a wine colored table runner and a casket spray of white roses filled the chapel with a bouquet of fragrance.
Everyone came in and ambled their way up the center aisle to view the body. Some left after writing their names in the guest book, others milled around or sat and talked with others waiting for the service to start.
Miss Vivee was quite pleased with how Oliver had been laid to rest, even commenting that he “looked natural.”
Being dead is a natural occurrence of the human existence, I know that, but Miss Vivee it stated as if dead was how people looked naturally. I stared at Oliver for a while, and with all my training in the human condition, I couldn’t see his natural look.
Miss Vivee started brushing her hand across his suit jacket making his body bounce up and down in the casket.
“Miss Vivee!” I grabbed her hand. “What are you doing,” I whispered.
“Just wanted him to look nice and neat,” she said and swiped her gloved hand over his hair.
“You were brushing pretty hard.”
“Ugh!” she grunted. “He doesn’t feel it.”
I held her hand and led her over to the pew where her family and Mac sat. Renmar, Brie and Hazel had reserved the front row nearest to the casket for them. Ron Anderson when he came in from his station at the front door dragging Charlie behind him let out one of his grunts at the sight then escorted over to the next row of seats.
Then he jumped up like he’d forgotten something. He walked up to the casket and scowled. Charlie reached out her hand to touch him, but drew it back. And then the two of them went back to their seat. Ron presumably satisfied that he’d paid his proper respects.
Then one by one Miss Vivee’s prediction came true – all the woman involved in the Maypop Melee (as I liked to call it) walked through the doors of the church. Miss Vivee announced each one by repeatedly slapping my thigh, which was getting pretty sore by the time the last one strolled in eyes puffy, tissue held to her nose.
“Okay. This is it,” Miss Vivee said and stood up. “C’mon, Mac.” She got his attention and started walking.
“What’s it?” I asked figuring I better follow.
We went to the back of the church, once we were in huddle together she said, “It’s time we question Oliver’s women.”
“Do you know what you’re going to say?” I asked.
“Tsk. Of course I do,” she said. “All we need to do is find out which one of them had means and opportunity to kill him. We know all of them had the motive.”
Means. Motive. Opportunity? No she didn’t just say that.
“And how do you plan on doing that?” I asked just as Lindsey Grace passed us going out to the church’s courtyard.
“Just follow my lead,” Miss Vivee said and headed toward her first suspect, Mac limping behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Underneath her makeup and all her falseness, Lindsey looked as she had been pretty once. Now though, she just looked made-up. In need of a touch-up, her white-blonde hair sprouted from brown roots was long and unnatural. It was ratty and straw-like from too much coloring and styled in the kind of casual disarray that took a while to get right. She had an oval face, lips outlined in red pencil larger than her mouth, and thick black liner defined her dark violet eyes.
She wore a two piece black suit with white piping around the lapel of the jacket, and a white blouse that was unbuttoned to show the bordered lace of her pushup bra. The pencil skirt short and tight. Her legs long and slim. She had a tanning booth coloring that was obvious and smelled like fresh flowers in vanilla.
She and was puffing one of those e-cigarettes that Oliver smoked, holding it between two fingers.
Miss Vivee glided right up to her.
“Oliver told me you were his favorite,” she said leaning in close to her and putting her hand in the small of Lindsey’s back. “He just didn’t know how to tell the other women.”
Oh boy, there she goes. Starting those lies, and in a church. Didn’t she have any fear of going to hell?
“He did?” Her red, puffy eyes lit up. “And here I was thinking that I was glad he was dead.” She dabbed her eyes and did a stray look at the casket. “That if he didn’t want me, then I didn’t care that he was dead.” She wiped her eyes again and gave up a weak laugh. “Seemed like my eyes care, though, they just keep gushing tears.”
“It’s okay, dearie,” Miss Vivee said. “Mac cheated on me once, and when that woman he’d been messing around died, I had to stop myself from going and dancing on her grave. Didn’t I, Mac?”
His usual Johnny-on-the-spot support of whatever lies tumbled from her lips, wasn’t so forthcoming when she mentioned “The Hussy.” The woman Mac swore he had nothing to do with and the reason Miss Vivee had hit him with her car.
“But it all works out in the end, sweetie.”
“How can this work out, Miss Vivee,” Lindsey said. “He’s dead.” She started sobbing at the words.
“Don’t cry,” Mac said. “Oliver would want you to be strong.”
She sniffed. “You think?”
“I know,” Miss Vivee said. “I see you smoke those e-ciggy things. Just like Oliver.” Miss Vivee gave her one of her fake warm smiles.
Lindsey laughed and looked at it. “He got me started on them. Gave my ex a fit.” She threw a look toward the sanctuary. “But I didn’t care, I enjoyed having things in common with Oliver.”
“You didn’t have anything in common with your ex?” Miss Vivee asked.
“No. Not really,” she said and lowered her eyes. “He was too possessive.”
“Got just the opposite with ole’ Oliver, huh?” Mac said and chuckled. Miss Vivee smacked h
im on his arm and he yipped with an “Ouch!”
“Pay no mind to him,” Miss Vivee said. “They always regret their actions in the end.” She eyed Mac. “So. You were so upset at the Maypop that day. And Mary Beth . . .” Miss Vivee shook her head. “She acted like a wild woman.”
“I know,” Lindsey said and took a puff. “She scared me.” She let out a nervous laugh. “And that other woman.”
“Do you know her name?” Miss Vivee asked.
“No. She came in looking for Oliver saying she was his fiancée. Mary Beth flew off the handle at that and I guess . . .” she lowered her eyes, “I just followed suit.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking about taking up smoking one of those things.” Mac wagged a finger at the e-cigarette. “How does it work?”
“Oh,” Lindsey said. “It’s really easy. You just pull this cartridge off and fill it up with nicotine and then you can even add menthol or flavors to it, too.”
“Flavors?” Miss Vivee asked. “Really?”
“Mmmhmm,” she said. “It’s really easy. I like it a lot.” She looked down at it. “Now I’ll do it because it’ll remind me of Oliver.”
“What strength of nicotine do you use?” Mac asked.
“Strength?”
“Yeah, you know,” I said. “The concentration of nicotine.”
“Oh. I don’t know,” she said and chuckled. “Oliver always bought all the stuff I needed for it.” She looked at me. “I guess now I’ll have to find out what it is I need to buy.”
“Okay, let’s go,” Miss Vivee said turning around and leaving.
I guess she had all the answers she needed.
I said bye to Lindsey and picked up my pace to catch up with Miss Vivee and Mac.
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” I said.
“She didn’t do it,” Miss Vivee said. “She doesn’t have enough sense.”
“Still,” I said.
“I wonder how she dyes the roots of her hair brown like that.” Mac said. “Seems like that would be kind of hard to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next victim, uh, I mean suspect on Miss Vivee’s list was Wild Woman Mary Beth Perkins. We found the strawberry blonde sobbing over the casket. Practically nose to nose with Oliver’s body. Blubbering undecipherable words to him that probably only the dead could understand. She was red all over. Arms, legs all flushed, her body trembling, it looked like at any moment she was going to climb over inside with Oliver.
The attendants from McIntosh Funeral Home were speaking to her gently trying to get her to move along. Miss Vivee burst through like gangbusters.
“Mary Beth, you stop that right now,” Miss Vivee leaned it, her words coming out harshly. “Get a hold of yourself.”
“Leave me alone, Miss Vivee,” she snarled. “I don’t want to be disrespectful to you.”
“You’re disrespecting yourself,” Miss Vivee said scolding her. She looked down at the body and back at Mary Beth. “And if you don’t stop all your craziness, I won’t tell you the message Oliver left for you.”
She stopped crying. She looked at Miss Vivee, then at Oliver and back again. “A message for me?”
“Your ears only,” Miss Vivee said a smug look on her face.
Mary Beth sniffed back her tears. “What was it?” she asked.
“Didn’t you just hear me say for your ears only? I do declare, Mary Beth, you couldn’t be that overcome with grief that you’ve lost all comprehension.”
Mary Beth swallowed hard. “Okay,” she said.
“Come on with me,” Miss Vivee said and headed off towards the back of the church.
I looked around to see if eyes were on us. Somebody had to notice Miss Vivee, Mac and me cornering the blondes.
“Oliver told me you were his favorite,” Miss Vivee said and leaned in close to her. She put her hand in the small of Mary Beth’s back. “He just didn’t know how to tell the other women.”
Oh my God. Those are the exact words she said to Lindsey. Even put her hand in the same place.
“He said that,” Mary Beth said and sniffed. Her eyes drifted over to the casket. “I knew it. I knew it.” She turned back and looked at Miss Vivee. “When did he say that?”
“Right before he died.”
Please don’t say with his dying breath.
“Practically with his dying breath,” she said like she could read my mind. “You know he and I were very close. He told me everything.”
“Why was he with those other women then?” She sniffed back more tears. “If he only loved me?”
“He wasn’t with them,” Miss Vivee said. “They were chasing him. One time Mac . . .”
I tuned her out. She was now getting ready to tell Mary Beth the same story about Mac, the Hussy and her Lincoln that she’d told Lindsey.
She could at least come up with a different story.
When I tuned back in, Mary Beth was bordering on seething. “She should have just stayed with her husband,” she said and jerked her head toward the sanctuary. “Two crazies together. And left me and Oliver alone.”
“Who?” I whispered to Mac.
“She’s talking about Lindsey.”
“Don’t say her name around me,” Mary Beth squealed.
“Calm down,” Miss Vivee said. “Oliver wouldn’t want you to act like that.”
“No.” She sniffed again. “You’re right. He wouldn’t want me to act like that,” she said and actually calmed down. “Especially today.”
Wow. He even had a hold over those women after death.
“Although I can’t figure out what he would want the three of you to think,” Mac said. “Or act, for that matter, once you discovered-”
Miss Vivee smacked his arm again.
“Sorry, Vivee,” he said. “Mary Beth,” he cleared his throat. “I see you don’t smoke those electronic cigarettes that Oliver was so fond of.”
“No. I hated those things. He got her,” she let her eyes roll toward the church, “to smoke them. But I’d never do it. Probably why he loved me the most. I was protective of his health. Tried to get him to stop smoking them.”
“Quite ingenious how they work, isn’t it?” he said.
“I don’t know,” she said and hunched up her shoulders. “They’re electronic, I guess all you have to do is plug them up or something.”
“Let’s go.” Miss Vivee did a one eighty on the toes of her shoes and headed for the pew where her family sat. Not even a “Good-bye” passing her lips.
“She didn’t do it,” she whispered after we settled in our seats. “She’s just as dumb as the other one.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I checked the time on my iPhone. It was only ten more minutes left for viewing the body, and then the service was going to start. Miss Vivee still had one suspect to interrogate, but she was busy talking with people from the town. I decided to go to the little girls’ room, as Miss Vivee called it.
As I walked down the aisle, I saw Oliver’s band of blondes, scattered throughout the church. They had taken their seats. And there was No Name Blondie. She’d just come into the church. Hurrying up to the front to Oliver, she tugged at her skirt and smoothed down her hair.
I rounded the corner to the restroom and chuckled to myself. I remember how I had found it funny when I first noticed Oliver with his many women, always a different one on his arm. And he’d bring all of them to the Maypop. That’s how they knew to look for him that day they all had the fight.
But I guess it really wasn’t funny.
Now I could see that it was a hurtful thing that he did to them. I wondered was it hurtful enough to kill, though.
Two down, one to go, Miss Vivee hadn’t found in those two what it took to kill Oliver. Maybe it wasn’t any of those women, but channeling Koryn, it did just wanna make you go into a closet and scream knowing they were hurt enough that someone would think they could kill.
Passing a window in the hallway, I saw Bay and Tom Bowlen outside t
alking. Probably going over their notes, I speculated.
I wonder had they ruled anyone out, yet.
Miss Vivee sure had.
I went into the restroom and looked at my reflection. I straightened out my hair and thought, would I kill Bay if he cheated on me?
Plenty of women had done it. Goodness, I thought, if love was so complicated and hurtful, I wonder why my father wanted me to get tangled up in it.
After I left the restroom, I spotted Miss No Name tucked away in a little alcove on her cell phone. Miss Vivee had said that I wasn’t good at eavesdropping . . .
Maybe I’ll try.
I stood behind the wall that made up one side of the alcove. I leaned toward the edge and turned my head so I could hear.
“It’s awful. All those other women are here. I shouldn’t have come,” she said.
Too late now.
“Huh?” she said and stuck a finger in the ear opposite the one she had the cell phone up to. “Oh. I already know that.”
Know what? Can you move this along? I have to get back.
I peeked out into the sanctuary. Looked like they were starting the service.
“I already know what killed him,” she said.
Oh you do?
“It was the nicotine,” she said.
I gasped. I had to cover my mouth so she wouldn’t hear me.
She knows. I’ve got to tell Miss Vivee.
“I told him it would,” she continued. “Those things aren’t any better than regular cigarettes. But only it seems like they kill you faster.”
I sucked my teeth. Miss Vivee can rule her out, too.
When I got back to my seat it was the part of the program where people were asked to say a few words about Oliver. I cringed. Was this going to another free for all for the Blondies?
But before anyone could get up, the Mystery Woman from Jellybean Café came through the doors, a light breeze trailing behind up. She walked – no – glided down the center aisle. She was of course a stranger to everyone (seeing that everyone in town knew each other). And she had everyone mesmerized.
Coastal Cottage Calamity (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 10