“She jogged?”
No answer from Miss Vivee, just a look that asked was I was slow.
“You don’t think jogging is good for you?” I asked.
Thought I’d try a different approach.
“If people were supposed to go around running for miles, God would’ve put them on that speed from the word go. No one has any business moving that fast. For nothing.”
I laughed. “I’m with you on that.”
Miss Vivee lowered her voice. “Gemma Burke’s death wasn’t natural. I can assure you of that.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I know so,” she said and stroked her dogs head. “That girl was murdered.”
“Oh my.” A chill ran up my spine. “That would be terrible if it were true.”
“It is true.” She pushed Cat off her lap, took off her sunglasses and turned to me. Her whole expression changed. “Oh, but you missed all the hullabaloo,” she was suddenly animated, her eyes sparkling. “Coroner came, zipped Gemma Burke in his death bag and hauled her away on a gurney. No pomp. No circumstance. Zip and done.
“Sheriff Haynes and the deputy got here when they were wheeling the body out. Been asking questions ever since.” She nodded to the pandemonium in the foyer.
“What’s the deputy’s name?” I asked. He looked about my age, nice looking, but seemed lost in all the commotion. He was nursing a hand that was bandaged and people kept bumping into it. It was making him even more agitated.
“Colin Pritchard,” Miss Vivee said. “Born and bred here in Yasamee, but he went and did his Peace Officer training up north.” She glanced over at me. “You’d never know he had any training in anything.”
I chuckled. I guess it was pretty obvious he didn’t know what he was doing.
“But Lloyd Haynes, the sheriff,” she said and nodded in his direction. “Ain’t had no training, and probably never been at the scene of a crime like this before, but he looks pretty darn competent, don’t he?”
I nodded. “Look like he’s got a hurt foot?”
“Yep,” Miss Vivee said. He and that deputy of his always out fishing and hunting.” She pointed to the Deputy’s hand. “They do more damage to themselves than to whatever they’re hunting.”
I laughed. “And those are the two that’s licensed to protect around here?”
“It’s a sad story, I know,” she said. “Anyway. Sorry you missed it. Bet you would have enjoyed it. Seeing Gemma Burke like that,” she said and nodded toward the dining hall as if Gemma Burke was still there. “Face purple, her eyes open and lifeless. A real sight to see.” She looked at me. “You like dead things, right?”
Chapter Nine
An hour later the chaos hadn’t stopped.
Miss Vivee and I stayed seated on the bench and watched as the first murder in Yasamee in the last sixty-five years was investigated.
Sheriff Lloyd Haynes and Deputy Colin Pritchard had spent the morning talking to all the people that had been at the Maypop when Gemma died. Now the Sheriff was trying to get Renmar’s account of the events.
“Oh my,” Renmar said, her tears still flowing after sixty whole minutes. “I don’t know what to say.” She looked at Hazel Cobb who was holding on to her, then she lowered her eyes and toyed with the tissue in her hand. “Gemma came in here every Friday since she got back. She was such a skinny little thing, all that exercise I guess. I was happy to feed her.”
“She loved your bouillabaisse,” Hazel said and nodded.
“Yes. She did,” Renmar said and nodded back.
Sheriff Haynes pulled his brown, four-dented brown hat off of his head, and swiped his hand though the tuft of chestnut hair that fell in his face. Though he seemed hot and frustrated, he kept a cool temper. He was slightly tanned with dark brown eyes and a square jawline. He looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, and his tan colored, short-sleeved uniform hung well over his fit body. But with all the disorder he was dealing with, it seemed Renmar’s reaction to everything was giving him the most grief.
“And-” the Sheriff started to say something more to her when the deputy came up and interrupted his questioning. Deputy Pritchard leaned into him and spoke low and close to his ear. When he had finished speaking to him, the Sheriff said, “Excuse me, Renmar, I’ll be right back.” He left out the front door following the deputy.
As soon as he left, Renmar sent Hazel upstairs for something and then pulled Oliver close to her. They spoke in hushed, and hurried voices. Oliver puffed hard on his e-cigarette and squinted, taking in what Renmar was saying. Renmar’s eyes flitted about the room as if she was ensuring no one was looking. We locked eyes momentarily. Then her eyes darted from me, to Miss Vivee and back before she turned again to Oliver.
I turned to Miss Vivee. “What they got their heads together about?” I asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe they’re trying to get their alibis together.”
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”
“Why who wouldn’t?” Miss Vivee said. “It’s a real crime scene around here. They roped off everything with that yellow tape, stuffed things into small plastic bags and took a boatload of pictures. Most excitement I’ve seen in forty years or more.”
The Sheriff came back in and Renmar pushed Oliver toward the back of the house. He hurried off, furtively glancing back over his shoulder. Renmar tried to control her sniffles. Patting her hair and licking her lips, it was quite noticeable that Renmar was trying to remain calm.
“I hate to tell you, Renmar,” the Sheriff was back, “but we’re going to have to take that bowl of bouillabaisse that Gemma was eating when she . . . Well, you know.”
“When she croaked,” Miss Vivee said in a voice, it seemed, as loud as her little frame could muster.
“Yes. Well,” the Sheriff said somewhat flustered.
“Kicked the bucket,” Miss Vivee offered.
“Mother,” Renmar said.
“Hah,” Miss Vivee said. “I could do this all night. I’ve got a million of them.” She yelled out, “Bite the dust. That’s another one,” she said laughing and elbowed me.
“Anyway,” the Sheriff raised his voice. “I’m going to need the whole pot as well.”
“It’s all gone,” Renmar said. And as soon as it came out of her mouth, Miss Vivee hit me on my thigh. I looked at her.
“That’s a lie,” she said out of the side of her mouth. “It’s a whole eighteen-quart stockpot full of it on the stove.”
“All gone?” The Sheriff hadn’t heard Miss Vivee but it seemed like he didn’t believe Renmar either. “Mind if I take a look?”
“Help yourself,” Renmar said and swept her arm in the direction of the kitchen. “I gave the last bowl to Gemma.” She set her lips firmly and locked eyes with the Sheriff.
He held her gaze momentarily and then headed off to the kitchen without saying a word. Renmar followed behind him.
“They’ll do an autopsy no doubt,” Miss Vivee said looking out into the distance. “But if they think that Renmar’s fish stew done Gemma Burke in they’ll soon learn that they’re barking up the wrong tree. I told the Sheriff that, too. He just smiled and nodded his head. Patronizing son-of-a-gun. The facts will prove me right. Wait and see.”
Miss Vivee got quiet and then took in a breath and shook her head. “Her hair was a mess,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “Poor Gemma Burke. When they pulled her face up out the bowl it was just a mess. All wet around the edges from falling into the fish stew.” She crunched up her nose. “When I go,” she said with a nod of her head, her voice back to normal. “I plan on looking like I was just getting ready to sit for my sweet sixteen portrait. Rosy cheeks and all. Even if I have to apply a little rouge. And not a hair out of place. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes really,” she said as if it were a fact. “I’m sure God’ll give me the strength to make myself presentable when it’s time for us to meet.” Miss Vivee smiled a
nd patted me on my knee.
I looked up to see Deputy Colin Pritchard standing over me. He smelled all woody and fresh and I took in a big whiff. He was tall and he looked so buff and officious in his tan uniform. But his eyes and awkward smile made him look vulnerable, too. Especially with his hand wrapped in a bandage. I just wanted to kiss his “booboo” and make it feel better.
I wouldn’t mind kissing those lips either.
“Yes,” I said, my eyes meeting his. “You need me?”
“May I speak with you,” he said. “I need to talk to you about where you were this morning.”
“Sure,” I said. “I don’t mind.”
“Looks like you’re a suspect, too,” Miss Vivee said with a mischievous wink.
Chapter Ten
“I’ve decided to solve the murder.”
Vivienne Pennywell made her announcement as she came out the house, followed by her dog, and sat next to me on the porch swing.
“You have?” I asked.
“I have.” She set her lips in a firm line. She seemed quite resolute.
I didn’t say anything at first, making sure she didn’t have any more to say. I had just finished giving my statement to the deputy and thought I’d get away from all the fray that was still going on in the house. The crowd of people outside had nearly dissipated. After Miss Vivee’s comment though, I’d probably would’ve been better off staying inside.
I thought I’d try my “no murder happened” approach again.
“Maybe nothing happened,” I said. “It is possible that she had an aneurysm or a heart attack or something. Something natural.”
“I told you once, there wasn’t anything natural about her death. I know exactly how she died and I aim to find out what caused it.” She paused and threw me a glance. “I might need help, though.”
“You want me to help?” I pointed to myself and shook my head. “No. Not me.” I furrowed my brow.
“Yes you,” she said. “Seems like you got a streak of mischief in you. Thinking you’d make a good partner.”
“A streak of mischief? What makes you say that?” I shook my head. “Not me,” I said again. “I’m as upstanding as you can get.”
“That’s not what I heard.” The edges of her lips turned up in a grin.
That stupid FBI guy.
“What did you hear?” I asked. “I’m sure no one knows anything about me. I just got here.”
“My grandson told me you thought you were Indiana Jones.”
“Indiana Jones? He doesn’t . . . I didn’t . . . I don’t know why he’d say that.”
“Are you? You are an archaeologist. They’re good at digging up stuff and piecing together clues.”
“Am I like Indiana Jones? No. Not at all. How do you know who that is anyway?”
“When you get to be my age all you do is watch TV. It keeps people from thinking you’ve gone daft when they see you staring off into space ‘cause your mind done gone blank. You stare at the TV that way they think you’re engrossed in a show.”
“I’m not anything like Indiana Jones,” I repeated and shook my head. “Nothing like that. Maybe my mother is,” I add under my breath. “But not me.”
“Sounds like your mother is a hoot,” Miss Vivee said with a gleam in her eye. “Believing in Martians. You must have had a ball growing up.” She smiled at me. “Maybe you think outside the box like she does? That’s the kind of thinking you need to solve a murder, you know.”
“That may be a little much for you,” I said. “Solving a murder. Seeing that you’re . . . older,” I said coughing into my hand. “I think that Sheriff Haynes and Deputy Pritchard just might have everything covered. Don’t you?”
“Don’t patronize me,” she said. “If I thought they had everything covered, I wouldn’t say I was going to solve it myself.”
“And why don’t you think they can handle it?”
“Lloyd Haynes is a good man and eventually I think he may get to it, but by that time the Maypop Bed & Breakfast will have a reputation of its food killing its customers. Renmar’s already in there bawling her eyes out on Hazel Cobb’s shoulder. With the Maypop in ruin, there’d go me and my girls’ livelihood and our good name. Just can’t let that happen.” She sucked her teeth. “And that Colin Pritchard, well he’s about as dumb as a box of rocks.”
I laughed. “He did seem like he was bumbling things at first,” I said. “But after I talked to him he seemed pretty sharp to me. Took down all my information. Asked the right kind of questions.”
And he was cute. Very cute. Nice body and he had the most beautiful emerald green eyes I’d ever seen. And that dimple in his chin was just too sexy.
“He asked me where I was when Gemma Burke died,” Miss Vivee continued talking brought me back from my reverie. “How crazy is that? Now if that don’t tell you the man don’t know shit from Shinola shoe polish, I don’t know what does.”
“That sounds like a good question to me. He needs to check out everyone’s alibi.”
“Well, it’s not a good question,” she said with an air of disgust. “At least not a good one to ask me. Everyone in this town, all five hundred and eighty three of ‘em, know that I haven’t left this house in twenty years. Nearly all his life. So where else would I be? Even Cat knew he was asking dumb questions, she barked at him the entire time. That boy ain’t got half a brain. He couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag.” She bit her bottom lip and scratched across her chin with her fingertip. “But I think I can find out what happened. Maybe even before the Sheriff does. I’m already one step ahead of him.”
“How’s that?”
“I know that Renmar’s bouillabaisse didn’t kill her.” She paused. “And with the body having to be sent to Augusta for the autopsy, we’ll have a least a week’s jump on the Sheriff’s investigation.”
“Why do you want me to help you?”
“I just told you, you’ve got experience in digging up stuff. Plus, you think anyone else around here’ll help me?”
No. I thought. Because no else around here cares if you know they think you’re crazy.
“Do you really hail from Ohio?” she asked.
“I do.” I nodded. “I’m from Cleveland. And before you ask, I don’t think I’m from Mars. And neither does my mother.”
“Too bad. That may have actually worked to our advantage.” She looked at me. “Super powers and all.”
“How did you know I was from Ohio?” I asked.
“Bay told me.” She took in a breath. “I’m from Ohio, too. That’s a secret, though. But since we gonna be partners, thought I should tell you that up front.”
“I would’ve thought you were born in Georgia.”
“That’s just what I tell my girls. They don’t need to know everything about me. I’m a hundred years old. I’ve done a lot of things in my time. But nobody around here is old enough to remember anything about me. I, on the other hand, remember pretty much everything about everybody.”
“You’re a hundred?” I wouldn’t have ever thought she was that old. She got around really well, and was so alert.
Maybe I had been too stereotypical when assessing her.
“Closer to it than anybody else around here. But not too old to conduct a murder investigation.” She nodded her head. “You can be sure of that.”
“You have any experience solving murders?”
“Don’t need any experience. Just common sense and I’ve got plenty of that. But like I said, I need a partner. Just not sure if I can trust you or not,” she said.
“Understandable,” I said seeing the need to start trying to get out of this “partner” thing. “But,” I tried to look sympathetic. “I wouldn’t have much time to help you with your sleuthing, anyway. I’ve got my own digging to do. I’ve got my work over on Stallings Island, remember?”
She cut her eyes over at me. “You and I both know that you don’t have no real business over there.”
“What? What do you mean?”
> “And I’m just as sure that it was you that was snooping around up there by Gainesville. In that locked up government reservation.”
I opened my mouth to say something.
“Don’t lie,” she said. “You know it’s the truth. My grandson, Bay is good at his job. He said he knows it was you, but they didn’t have any proof.”
Ugghh! I do not like that man.
“But no never mind ‘cause that’ll work out fine for us,” she said. “I’ll just tell everyone I’m helping you over at the Island.” A smile came across her face and she leaned in to me. “That could be our cover.”
“Cover?”
“Yes. The story we’ll tell everyone why, after all these years, I’m leaving the house. Why we’re spending time together. Believe me, the people around here’ll wonder. I’ll just say you need me to help over at the Island.”
I was all too familiar with cover stories. That was the reason I was in Yasamee in the first place.
“And what will you say I need you to help me do?” I asked.
“Dig, of course. Isn’t that what you people do?”
“Are people going to believe that?”
“Probably not, but they’re not going to call me a liar. Not to my face. More than likely, they’ll just smile and nod their heads trying to pacify what they think is a crazy old woman. But no one will be able to prove I’m lying because no one is allowed to be on the Island. It’s really perfect.”
I arched an eyebrow. Maybe they wouldn’t be so far off thinking she was crazy.
“I’ll say I’m digging for Indian remains when really we’ll be digging for clues.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What about Oliver?” I decided to ask instead of voicing my opinion about the cover story she was making up. “He was supposed to be helping me,” I said.
“I suspect we’ll have to concoct a story about that too.” Miss Vivee glanced at me. “If push comes to shove we might have to let him in our little caper. We’ll see how that goes. But for right now, mum’s the word.” She patted me on my knee. “Can’t let on to folks what we’re doing.”
Bed & Breakfast Bedlam (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 4