by Ann Mullen
Claire and I ducked down quickly.
“Timer,” we both said. We stared at each other.
“It’s okay,” Claire said. “I know which lights come on, so I know how to maneuver around them.” She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, put it to her nose, and then started walking. She moved with her back to the wall as I followed. A couple of minutes later, we were standing in a dark library. “This room isn’t on the timer, but we’ll have plenty of light from the hallway. The wall safe is behind Robert E. Lee’s picture. Carl’s a history buff and he’s a true southerner. He always said that a person wasn’t a true southerner if they didn’t have a picture of General Robert E. Lee hanging on their wall.”
“I’m glad to see that Carl has strong convictions about something, because he surely wasn’t much in the husband department.”
“How right you are,” Claire responded without hesitation. “His parenting skills are sorely lacking, also.”
“Where’s this picture you’re talking about?” I was getting edgier by the minute. I pulled my handkerchief down for a brief second and discovered that the smell wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier. It was unpleasant, but I didn’t feel like I was going to puke any second. I replaced the handkerchief and looked around the room. Claire was standing by the general.
“This painting is called The Christian General,” Claire said. “I rather like it because it shows the general reading the bible to a little boy who has fallen asleep in his arms.”
“Is it his son?”
“Oh, no,” Claire replied as she pulled the picture back on its hinges. She leaned in and punched several keys. “General Lee’s sons, Rooney and Fitzhugh, were generals in the army. I think that’s their names.”
“How do you know so much about history?”
“I listened to Carl a lot. At parties, men love to talk about stuff like that. I’ve gotten quite an education from all their yapping. As for the little boy in the picture, the story I was told was that he gave that bible to the general. There’s more to it, but right now, I can’t concentrate on that and break into this safe at the same time.”
“I understand,” I whispered.
Claire grabbed the handle, turned it and the door opened. She reached in, pulled out a stack of money and handed it to me. She pulled out several more stacks.
“We might need a bag if you plan to take all this. I’m running out of arm space, considering I have one arm in a cast.”
“I’m taking everything before the police get a warrant and force me to open the safe.”
“What makes you think they even know about the safe?”
“They probably don’t, but I’m not taking any chances. There’s stuff in here that I know Carl wouldn’t want to fall into the wrong hands. I don’t know why he left it in the first place. He should’ve taken it with him.”
“You don’t think Carl is dead?”
“I don’t anymore,” Claire said as she continued to empty the safe. “When I found out that wasn’t Carl in the wine cellar, I started paying attention to what you had to say. You were right about that, so I figure you could be right about a lot of other things.”
“I’m glad you’ve found confidence in my judgment.”
“I think you have good intuition,” Claire said. “More than once you’ve had a feeling about something and I didn’t believe you then, but I do, now.”
“In that case, I think we need to get out of here right now.”
Claire looked around the room and then down at the floor. She reached over, picked up the empty trash container, and began throwing stuff from the safe into it. I joined in and dumped the stacks of money into it, also. Claire closed the safe door, punched in a few numbers, and then replaced the picture of the general to its original location. She picked up the trash container and we headed out. We inched our way down the hallway and out the back door. We were almost home-free and ten steps from Abby’s back door when I tripped over something and landed on my knees. The jolt to my body was excruciating. With only one good arm to break my fall, I landed hard.
“I bet you tripped over that tree stump,” Claire said. “Abigail lost a tree in a hurricane a while back and the guy who cut up the tree was supposed to grind up the stump, but he never did come back. I guess she never got anyone else back out to do the job.”
“What’s this?” I asked as I picked up a fireplace poker. A bloody rag was wrapped around it. I stared at Claire in disbelief. “I think we have us a murder weapon.”
Claire looked at the poker. “Jesse, I think that poker belongs to our set.”
“Are you sure?”
She bent down and looked a bit closer. “I’m sure of it.” She looked around, scanning the area to see if anyone was watching. “Are you okay, Jesse? Can you get up and walk?”
“Yeah, I think I can. I didn’t hear anything snap when I fell. Let’s get moving. I’m taking this with us.”
“I sure hope so,” Claire said.
I grabbed the poker, the bloody rag and then pushed myself up by my legs. I glanced to the left for a split second and saw the security guard’s vehicle coming up the road.
“Run, Claire!” I yelled.
We took off running and were inside Abby’s laundry room before the guard had a chance to see us. I slammed the door and leaned up against it.
“That was a close call,” I said. I looked around. “Wow, what a huge room. It’s as big as my bedroom. I could do some serious laundry in here.”
“Either I’m wet from the snow, or I peed in my pants,” Claire said as she looked down and felt her pants. “Oh, thank you, Lord! I didn’t pee myself.” She laughed and then kept on laughing. The stress of breaking into a house must have been too much for her. She was uncontrollable.
Randy walked into the room and asked, “What’s so funny?”
“I don’t think she’s laughing because of anything that’s funny; I think its stress-induced laughter.”
Randy walked over to Claire and put his arms around her. Immediately, she began to get a grip on herself. Her laughter finally ceased.
“What happened?” he asked.
She looked at him and said, “I think Jesse tripped over the murder weapon.”
Randy stepped back and said, “What?”
“I think we found the murder weapon,” I said as I raised my arm and showed him the poker and rag. It’s a little faded, but I’m sure this is probably blood on the rag.”
“It’s pink; not red,” Claire said, looking closer.
“It’s been out in the snow,” Randy said. He looked at me. “When did Carl turn up missing?”
“The day Billy and I got home from our honeymoon… actually later, in the middle of the night,” I replied. “That was over a week ago, or maybe eight or nine days.”
“You’ve had a busy life,” he said. “Mother told me about Carl stealing the kids and the subsequent rescue by a band of Indians. Don’t take what I just said wrong. My mother has a vivid way of telling a story.”
“She does appear to be a colorful character.”
“Back to the bloody rag,” Randy said. “There’s been snow on the ground for two weeks. That explains why the rag’s pink; it got wet. I don’t understand why the police didn’t find it during their search of the grounds.”
“I found the poker in Abby’s yard,” I said. “The police probably didn’t search her property.”
“You can count on that,” he said. “If they had, I’d be holding the search warrant in my hand. I don’t let anything get by me.”
“I bet you don’t,” Claire said with a smile. Her attempt at flirting with Randy was so obvious. I ignored her batting eyelashes and the sway of her hips.
“We have to call the police,” I said as I watched Claire act like a teenager trying to capture the attention of her new guy. “Right now!” I said loudly. My voice brought both of them back down to earth.
Randy looked at me, stood quietly for a minute, and then said, “To avoid further c
ontamination, we need to bag the evidence.” He turned to Claire and said, “Go to the kitchen and find a large trash bag. My mother’s a neat-freak, so you shouldn’t have a problem finding one.” He looked back at me as Claire put her trash container down and left the room. “I’m glad you wore gloves.”
“I’m married to a good private investigator,” I said. “He taught me all I know. I went to night school and took online courses so I could be a P.I., too. We’re a team now; in more ways than one.”
“I know,” he said. “My mother formed a bond with your mother on the telephone. She knows a bit about your family. When she gets bored, she calls me. I hear it all. I know she was glad to meet you, and I’m sure she was glad to see Claire again. Claire’s the only person in the neighborhood that she would have anything to do with. When Claire left, Mother was sad, but once Isabel came to stay, it’s been a big comfort to me.”
“What about Pete? Doesn’t Abby like being with him?”
“He’s gone a lot,” Randy said. “Mother gets bored with his meetings and golfing. They’re happy. That’s what matters, right?”
“I guess so,” I said.
Claire returned with a large, black trash bag and handed it to Randy. He, in turn, opened the bag while I gently placed the poker and the rag in it. He tied the end shut and laid the bag down on the washing machine. He then walked over to the wall phone and punched in a few numbers. When his conversation was finished, he walked back over to us and said, “Mother and Isabel were at the 7-11. They should be here any minute. I think we should lock the back door.” He walked over to the door and turned the lock. “Let’s wait in the parlor and when Mother and Isabel return, we’ll call the police.”
Claire picked up her container of goodies and we headed to the parlor.
I felt stiff from my fall. My back ached and by the time I got to the parlor, I felt nauseated. “I need to sit down,” I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
Claire immediately came to my aid. “Are you all right, Jesse? It isn’t the baby, is it?” She had a terrified look on her face.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I just need to sit down. I looked up at Randy and said. “May I have a glass of water?”
“Sure,” he said. He left the room. Seconds later he returned.
I gulped the water down. “Thanks,” I said.
“Do you think you should be running all over town and getting into stuff like this in your condition?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s just that sometimes I get a little morning sickness at night.”
He laughed. “Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
“I guess you could say…”
Abby and Isabel came bursting through the front door.
“Someone’s been following us!” Abby yelled.
“What do you mean you think you’re being followed?” Randy asked.
“I noticed him the minute we pulled out of the driveway. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was Carl.”
“How can you say that?” Isabel asked. “You didn’t get a good look at his face. You said so, yourself.” She walked into the parlor, looked at me and Claire and then said, “She’s full of it. She makes up stuff.”
“I’ve changed my mind. It’s Carl; I’m sure of it,” Abby said as she followed Isabel into the parlor and then took off my coat.
“Are you absolutely positive, Mother?” Randy asked as he came up behind her.
“Well…”
“I told you!” Isabel said. “She’s crazy.”
“Did you get what you wanted from your house, Claire?” Abby asked, changing the subject.
“We got a little more that we bargained for,” Claire said. “Jesse tripped over a poker. It had a bloody rag wrapped around it. It’s in a plastic bag, sitting on your washing machine.”
Abby’s eyes widened and a smile came to her face. “Are you kidding? Why didn’t you tell me when you called, Randy?”
“I didn’t want you to have a wreck trying to get back here. I’m sure you would’ve put the pedal to the metal and we’d be pulling Claire’s SUV out of a ditch somewhere.”
Abby ignored her son’s lecturing as the realization of what she had in her custody overcame her. “I must call Detective Trainum and tell him the good news. He might have to get out of bed, but who cares?” She looked at me and said, “I bet you’re the one who found it, didn’t you?”
“How did you know?”
Abby just smiled.
“She tripped over it in your yard, Abby,” Claire said.
Abby stopped in her tracks. “Who in their right mind would throw a murder weapon out in the yard? You’d have to be an idiot. I want to see the poker.” Abby turned and headed toward the hall.
“No, Abigail,” Randy said as he took her by the hand and led her back to the parlor. “I want you to sit right her with the rest of the ladies. We’re going to have a cooling down period for one hour and then I’m going to call the police.” He sat down in a chair. “No one is to touch that bag! Now let’s sit here and collect our thoughts.”
I chuckled. “I see your son calls you by your first name when he wants to get your attention. I do that to my mom, too, and it usually works.”
“I don’t think it’s very nice of him to treat me that way,” Abby mumbled to herself as she sat down on the settee across from us.
Isabel walked over to Abby and sat down beside her. “You can be so stubborn sometimes and you always have to get your way.”
“I just wanted to have a little fun with Frank. He thinks he’s so smart.”
“Abby, he is smart,” Isabel said as she rubbed her sister’s shoulders. “He treats you with respect even when you try to make him mad. Why do you do that?”
“I guess I just can’t help myself. He hates me and Pete. He’s always trying to tie Pete into something illegal. Frank’s jealous of all the money we have. His father, Caleb, could’ve been rich just like Pete, but he wanted to be a cop instead. It’s not our fault that Frank followed in his father’s footsteps and doesn’t have two nickels to rub together.”
Claire and I sat silently and listened to the skeletons fall out of Abby’s closet.
“He blamed Pete for his father’s heart attack just because Pete was on the phone arguing with Caleb at the time he had it. That’s a ridiculous accusation. I’m surprised Frank didn’t try to have Pete prosecuted for a heart attack induced by a phone conversation.”
“You know where this comes from, don’t you?” Isabel asked.
“Yes, I do,” Abby said. “Jaynee dumped him and it broke his heart.”
“I don’t think he ever got over her.”
“Who’s Jaynee?” I butted in.
“Jaynee’s my daughter,” Abby said. She got up from the settee, walked over to the piano and picked up a framed picture. She brought it over to show us. She pointed to each person in the photo. “This is Jaynee and her husband, Steven, the hunk.” Abby giggled. “At least, that’s what I call him.” She pointed to the two children in the picture. “This is my grandson, Peter. He was named after his grandfather. And this is Laurie, my granddaughter. They’re twins.” She walked over and set the photograph down on the piano. As she walked back to the settee she took notice that Randy had stretched out in the chair and his eyes were closed. Her next comment was intended for him. “My other child isn’t married, yet.”
“Are you harping on that again?” he said as he opened his eyes and looked at us. He winked and then laid his head back again. “I’m so glad I have you to remind me of such things.”
Our conversation dragged on and on until finally, an hour later I said, “It’s time to call the police. This is making me crazy. I don’t know why we had to wait.”
“Sometimes it’s best to sit back and go over everything in your head before you jump the gun and cause yourself grief,” Randy said as he got up from the chair and headed to the hallway. “I’m going to call the police and then I’m going to get the poker.” He turned and
left the room.
The four of us sat motionless until his return. He walked into the room and laid the black bag on the coffee table. It was all Abby could do to keep herself from reaching over and touching the evidence. I could see it in her eyes. Her curiosity was getting the best of her.
I looked at her and said, “Don’t go there, Abby. The last thing you want is for the police to find your fingerprints on the murder weapon.”
“What can they do?”
“Oh, don’t be asinine, Mother,” Randy said. “Listen to Jesse. It would be very unwise for you to touch that poker. The police will be here soon.”
“I’m not that crazy,” Abby said, with a twinkle in her eyes. “But I would like to see it.” She turned her attention to Claire’s wastepaper basket full of money and paperwork sitting on the floor. “You might want to put that away. We can put it in the credenza.”
Claire grabbed the basket and followed Abby over to the credenza by the piano.
“Here, put my purse in there while you’re at it,” I said, handing it to Abby. “I’d hate for my gun to fall out while the detective’s here.”
“You might not want to cross your legs either,” Isabel said with a smile.
I looked down and noticed that the leg of my pants was hiked. The gun I had strapped to my ankle left a distinct bulge. Quickly, I pulled up the leg of my jeans and unsnapped the holster. “Stick this in my purse, too,” I added.
Abby carefully took the gun from me and placed it in my bag. She took the bag over to the credenza, then looked back at me and said, “You come prepared, don’t you?”
“I sure do,” I replied. “I’ve run into trouble a few times.”
“We could be headed for serious trouble when that detective gets here,” Claire said as she walked back over to me and sat down. “I’m sure he’s going to want to know why we were outside in the snow.”
“I’m pregnant,” I said, winking at Abby, who was having way too much fun under the circumstances. “I needed some fresh air.”
“Hey, that’s good,” Claire said. “And I tripped over the poker.”
“No, we can’t stray too far from the truth, or we’ll get choked on our lies. We went outside so I could get some fresh air and I tripped over the poker. That’s all we need to say.”