Fit to Die

by J. B. Stanley

  “After you suggested coming to see our friend Fred, I started thinking about our last visit to Wandering Springs. At first, I was just longing for another glass of that delicious limeade.” She paused as the drink she had fantasized about was placed before her on a linen napkin. Once a loaded plate of cookies had been deposited in the middle of the table and their server disappeared inside as silently as she had arrived, Lucy continued. “But then I began to suspect that the answers to all of our riddles lay within these walls, so to speak. With a little help from Fred here and your friend Murphy, I was able to confirm my suspicions.”

  “What suspicions? Can you please stop being so vague?” James begged and then crossly bit into a Thin Mint.

  “Okay, okay! Sorry, I’m just having a good time now that I finally know the answers.” Lucy helped herself to a cookie. “Do you remember the man Dylan was with when we were here before?”

  “The one in the wheelchair who seemed to be suffering from Alzheimer’s?” James asked by way of reply.

  “Yes. That man is Dylan’s father,” Fred declared importantly.

  James sat back in his chair, trying to figure out how that simple fact had any bearing on either of the two murders. “I don’t get it. How does that secret being revealed connect to anything else?”

  Lucy grabbed onto James’s hand and squeezed. “Mr. Shane told us that Dylan was the best point guard in all of Miami. Remember? Who else spent time in Miami, James?”

  “Ronnie. When she was in her twenties. So?” James absently rubbed Lucy’s palm. “I still need more information.”

  “That’s where Murphy helped me out.” Lucy took a long swallow of limeade. “She researched any news stories related to the Shanes of Miami and discovered two terrible things. The first was that Mrs. Shane, Dylan’s mama, died of uterine cancer. The second is that the person hired to nurse Mrs. Shane in their home, stayed on with the family after the mother’s death. Somehow, this nurse managed to run off with the family savings and was never heard from again.”

  James felt the pieces of the puzzle come together. “Was the nurse’s name Trudy Axelrod?”

  “Actually, no. It was Stacy Weeks.” Lucy shrugged. “And neither I nor Murphy could find out anything about this Stacy. It was as if she never existed as far as the databases containing Floridian records are concerned.”

  “But if we’re assuming Ronnie or whoever she was back then was that nurse, Dylan would have only been a boy when he knew her. I’d say she was in her mid-twenties when that photo was taken.”

  Lucy popped half a cookie in her mouth. “That’s true. Dylan would have been in high school. Still, I have more proof to tie him to the murders.”

  Fred cleared his throat and looked around. “That’s where I came in. Miss Hanover phoned and filled me in on the latest murder. She then asked me about Mr. Shane. Once I had confirmed his identity, this astute young lady requested that I do something highly irregular. Basically, she required that I become a snoop.”

  Fred abruptly stopped speaking as another elderly gentleman wearing a white and green argyle sweater vest over a pink golf shirt settled himself into a nearby chair at one of the glass-topped tables. Within seconds, two rambunctious boys joined him and began to set up a portable Chinese checkers board. As the trio began to play, the noise of their chatter swept over the entire porch, allowing Fred to continue in a more audible tone.

  “Miss Hanover asked me to discover whether sleeping aids were a part of Mr. Shane’s list of medications. In order to do this, I had to access the confidential records, an office at Wandering Springs that is carefully monitored and in which residents are not allowed.” He grinned mischievously. “Suffice it to say. I was able to gain entry during the wee hours of the night and found out that Mr. Shane had indeed been prescribed Valium to relieve anxiety, though not recently. However, each of the times he had been issued the pills occurred on a Saturday and by request of a visiting family member.”

  “Saturday. The same day of the week when Dylan regularly volunteers.” James shook his head in disbelief. “But he is such a kind and positive person. I can’t see him plotting to poison two people, let alone drowning one of them and setting fire to Willy’s building. That sounds like the work of someone who has become completely unhinged!” He released Lucy’s hand and rubbed furiously at his temple. “Can a person really conduct an exercise class and then run out and kill someone minutes later?”

  “We’ll see what caused him to act like a madman when we confront him.” Lucy pointed off in the distance to where a figure pushing a wheelchair could be seen heading toward the mansion. “His exercise class has been done now for almost an hour.” Lucy’s eyes grew misty. “I wanted to give him a few more moments with his daddy before his life changes forever. That old man may never see his son again.”

  James gaped at Lucy. “But we don’t have any hard evidence, do we?”

  “Nothing that will hold up in court without Dylan’s confession, no. That’s why we need to corner him and pretend to know the whole truth.”

  “I still insist that this is a foolhardy arrangement, Miss Hanover,” Fred cautioned.

  “I firmly believe that Dylan Shane acted out of a desire for vengeance,” Lucy stated calmly. “I don’t think he’s going to get violent with us.”

  Fred lifted a pair of binoculars from the empty seat next to him. “I’m going to call the authorities if I see the slightest indication that your brazen plan has gone amiss.”

  “Thank you, Fred.” Lucy planted a kiss on the man’s lined brow and stood, resolutely dusting crumbs from her lap. “Coming, James?”

  Mutely, James followed Lucy as she strolled up the gravel garden path. It seemed surreal to him to be in this tranquil setting, with monarch butterflies hovering above clusters of bachelor’s buttons and slow, fat bumblebees lazily settling onto the feathery heads of golden yarrow, with the goal of accusing a man of murder. The gravel crunched pleasantly under their feet and the twitter of wrens and finches visiting the feeders and bathing in the shallow cement birdbaths filled the air with an orchestrated harmony that served to increase the dreamlike atmosphere. Turning back to the house, James saw Fred Wimple raise his binoculars and fix the lenses of his apparatus upon Lucy’s quarry.

  Something in her bearing must have alerted Dylan that she was not approaching him in order to simply offer a quick greeting and he slowed his pace until he and his father came to rest next to one of the wooden park benches bordering the path.

  “Hello Dylan,” Lucy began almost sadly.

  “Hi there folks.” Dylan attempted to adopt his customary light tone, but the cautious look in his eyes betrayed his wariness.

  Lucy sat down at the opposite end of the bench and James stood behind her, trying to be as tall and erect as a soldier. “How’s your daddy doing today, Dylan?”

  Dylan’s lips narrowed and then sprang back into a smile. “Who?”

  Lucy turned to Mr. Shane who was gazing happily out across the sweeping lawn. “Good afternoon, Mr. Shane.”

  “He’s not my father. I told you before, he just gets confused.” Dylan put on a show of being offended. “It’s not nice to mess with folks who have memory loss.”

  “When did his memory loss first occur?” Lucy asked gently.

  “Randolph’s?” Dylan issued a covert look of tenderness at the man in the wheelchair. “I believe he was quite young. Still in his forties. It was a case of early onset dementia. Pretty rare, but very debilitating. Folks who are stricken with his condition at that age deteriorate faster than older people do. They forget stuff at home, at work. They end up being laid off from work. Take Randolph. He couldn’t even remember how to make simple meals for u—” He checked himself and then continued, “for his two kids.”

  “You were going to say ‘us’ weren’t you? You are one of his two kids.” Lucy spoke quickly, giving Dylan no chance to continue his denials. Softly, she said, “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like for you. It
must have been really hard, Dylan. Especially with the passing of your mama and then some nurse called Stacy Weeks taking off with all of your family’s money. After all, you were just a kid,” she added softly. “That’s a lot for any person to bear.”

  Dylan stared at his hands and said nothing. The minutes dragged slowly by. James shifted his weight and wiped the perspiration gathering at the nape of his neck with the back of his hand. He wished he had another limeade and that they had chosen to sit on one of the benches in the shade. Finally, Dylan sighed and his shoulders sagged heavily. “What do you want?” he asked, suddenly sounding deeply weary.

  “I know Ronnie and Stacy are the same woman. How did she succeed in ruining your future, Dylan? How did she get away with that kind of … treachery?”

  Still staring at the crisscrossing lines etched into his palms, Dylan began to speak. “My father’s illness was already beginning to show itself even before my mom died. He was an electrician. You can’t make the kind of mistakes he started to make doing that kind of work. He almost fried himself a few times and his co-workers more than once before he was finally fired. Stacy knew right away what was wrong with him. She said she saw the signs when she was first hired as a live-in nurse by my mom.”

  He touched his father’s shoulder and slowly continued. “Stacy volunteered to stay and help after mom died. She said she felt like part of the family and would stay with us until she could arrange for the insurance to pay for a substitute—someone from her nursing school program who could live with us and watch out for Dad while my sister and I went to school.”

  “I’m assuming she never contacted the insurance company.”

  Dylan shook his head. “Nope. She was too busy plotting how to get the right legal documents signed by my clueless father so that she could get her hands on his retirement and our savings accounts. They were both kept at the same bank. She just showed up with power of attorney and all these other official papers, had the money wired to a different account, withdrew every cent, and BAM! She was gone.” Dylan balled his hands together and James watched nervously as the fists trembled violently.

  Lucy gave Dylan a moment to get both his voice and hands under control. “How old were you?”

  “I was a senior in high school. Had a full ride to U of Miami come the next fall, but there would be no college for me. That was the end of school and basketball forever. I went straight to work. I’ve been a garbage collector, a shirt presser, a short-order cook, you name it. I kept moving around like I was the one on the run. I couldn’t settle down for long in any place or at any job. Then I started managing a gym in a little town in Tennessee. That’s when I saw Stacy again, by total coincidence.”

  “In Tennessee?” Lucy was surprised by this revelation.

  “Yeah, except her name was Kelly Davies and she ran a business called A Leaner You. It was just like Witness to Fitness. Same food scam. She made a tidy profit for about six months and then split. I had only lived there a few weeks, but I was pretty sure Kelly and Stacy were the same person. I followed her—even as far as Quincy’s Gap. I guess someone was getting wise to her scam in Tennessee and Stacy was planning to set up shop all over again here as Ronnie Levitt. Since I wasn’t worried about her recognizing me, I applied for a job so I could get close to her.”

  “You mean, so you could get even with her,” Lucy stated.

  Dylan turned to her, his eyes blazing. “There was no getting even. She destroyed the lives of three people. Me, my father, and my kid sister. She took everything from us and right after we had just lost my mom to cancer!” He slammed the bench with his open hand. “We couldn’t even mourn for her, my sister and me. We were too busy figuring out how to pay bills or make macaroni and cheese or keep my father from wandering around the neighborhood like some total lunatic!”

  Seeing that Dylan was getting worked up, Lucy quickly asked, “Where’s your sister now? Is she doing okay?”

  Dylan exhaled a long breath through his mouth. “Julie’s still in Florida. As soon as she turned eighteen she married an old rich guy. She’s had four older husbands and never loved any of them, but she told me once that she never wanted to feel as insecure as she did after our mom died.” He gestured toward the mansion. “She’s the one who pays for this place.” He sighed again. “From the outside, we seem like such lucky people. Good-looking and friendly. Julie’s loaded, I’m popular with the ladies, but both of us are haunted. We can’t get close to anybody because we trust nobody. We’ve just been drifting through life.”

  James and Lucy both let their eyes rest upon Mr. Shane. He had said nothing during the entire exchange but seemed to be extremely content following the haphazard flight of a pair of bumblebees. For a few moments, no one spoke.

  “So you know all about my motives now,” Dylan said as he also watched his father. “You here to arrest me?”

  Lucy handed Dylan her cell phone. “I’m going to let you turn yourself in. It will go easier for you that way. Just press down on the ‘send’ key and your call will go right through to the Sheriff’s Department.”

  Dylan accepted the phone and nodded grimly. “I want you to know that Pete’s death was an accident. Ronnie did start that fire but it’s my fault Pete couldn’t get out of there alive. The spiked whiskey was meant for her and I had no idea she had given it to Pete until I read about the presence of drugs in his body in the local paper.” He abstractedly rubbed the surface of the cell phone. “I’m glad this is all over,” he said, smiling weakly at Lucy and James. “I searched for that slime of a woman for years and I have used up so much time and energy seeking revenge. Now that I’ve got it, I just want to sit still for a while and not feel anything.” He leaned back against the bench and lifted his face to the sun. “Right now, I think I am older and more tired than most of the residents here.”

  “I’m sorry about your daddy,” Lucy replied and took Mr. Shane’s hand in her own. “It will be hard for him not to see you.”

  Dylan pressed a button on the phone. His eyes grew watery as he looked at his father. “He hasn’t recognized me for weeks. He won’t even know I’m gone. I guess I can count that as a small mercy.”

  “We’ll check up on him and so will our friend, Mr. Wimple,” James spoke for the first time, pointing at Fred, who lowered his binoculars and waved hesitantly.

  “Thanks.” Dylan glanced up at the sun porch and then turned his attention to the speaker on the phone. “Yes,” he began, his gaze locked onto his father’s serene face. “I’d like to make an appointment to see the sheriff.” He paused. “Well, I think this is a priority. It’s about the death of Ronnie Levitt. See, I’d like to make a confession.”

  The first Friday evening in June was a bit on the hot and humid side, providing the residents of Quincy’s Gap with a glimpse of the uncomfortable summer Mother Nature had in store for them. Willy had requested that the five supper club members, Carter Peabody, and Phoebe Liu attend a special “unveiling” ceremony and of course, they all

  agreed to come.

  Lucy invited James to a casual dinner at her house prior to the evening’s mysterious event. As the afternoon grew late, James showered, put on a bit too much aftershave, and drove to the closest florist where he deliberated over bouquets for a full twenty minutes.

  “Why not just get red roses?” the saleswoman asked, growing frustrated with James’s dillydallying.

  “Too cliché.” James looked around. “I want something vibrant, with lots of blues and purples.” He smiled happily and mused aloud, “My Lucy has the most beautiful eyes. They’re like cornflowers.”

  The saleswoman was unimpressed by his simile. “We don’t carry cornflowers. After all, those kinds of flowers are like weeds. They grow in fields all over Virginia. We offer a more sophisticated selection of blooms.”

  Normally, James would have been put off by the woman’s snobbery, but he was feeling too buoyant to allow her sourness to affect him. “Then I’ll take a mixture of irises, statice, white lilies, an
d those cream-colored roses.” He paused and cast his eyes around the shop once more. “With some greens and Queen Anne’s lace mixed in. And I’d like it tied up with a lavender bow please.”

  Although the woman grudgingly gathered the stems, James was pleased to see the care with which she assembled the bouquet. After he paid, he whistled his way to the front door and then stuck his nose into the bouquet. The scent created by the lilies immediately made him sneeze. He sneezed three times consecutively while reaching for the door handle.

  “I hope your girlfriend isn’t allergic to lilies, too,” the woman chided in farewell as he opened the door.

  “Or to these Queen Anne’s lace,” he said, sniffling on the threshold, “which grow in fields all over Virginia.” Pleased with his departing retort, James stepped out of the shop and recommenced his whistling.

  When he arrived at Lucy’s, James was relieved to see that her three dogs were safely penned in the backyard. Lucy threw open the front door before he had the chance to ring the doorbell and upon seeing the flowers, threw her arms around James so forcefully that he nearly fell backward down the porch steps.

  Once they were both inside, Lucy filled up half of the double kitchen sink, plopped the stem end of the bouquet into the water, and continued to show her appreciation to James. The pair engaged in passionate kisses until Bon Jovi, Lucy’s largest male Shepherd, raked at the screen door leading from the kitchen to the back deck and whined. When he was ignored, his whine turned into frantic barking until Lucy finally broke away from James, laughing.

  “I guess we’ll have to close all the blinds whenever you come over,” she nudged James playfully. “My dogs might think that you’re attacking me instead of … well, what we were just doing.”

  “They’re going to have to get used to me, because I plan to spend a lot of time here, if that’s okay with you,” James replied, tenderly stroking Lucy’s hair.

  “That’s more than okay with me.” Lucy gestured toward the kitchen table. “Um, shall we eat? We’ve got to be back in town by seven.”