by Edie Claire
"Ms. Humphrey closed out the unit early this morning," he said cheerfully. "It's open now. Know anybody who needs some space? We're running a special all winter—first month's rent free."
Leigh looked back at the man—who was definitely enjoying toying with her—in surprise. "She moved everything out? Already? How?"
He shrugged. "She had a trailer; she had somebody helping her. There wasn't all that much stuff." He smiled again. "I'm surprised you didn't know."
Somebody helping her? Leigh swallowed. "Could you tell me what the other person looked like?"
He shrugged again. "I never saw him close up. He was short, that's all I know. Might have been a kid. They were both bundled up against the cold, anyway. Ms. Humphrey showed me ID—told me her husband was the man found in that kennel freezer. I read about that in the paper. We're allowed to hand over keys to next of kin, you know." His tone turned slightly defensive, as if her interrogation was giving him second thoughts.
"You didn't notify the police about the mini-storage unit?" she asked, feeding on his fears.
"Of course not," he countered, still defensive. "I didn't realize the dead man had a unit here till she showed up." His face darkened. "What's going on? Was the guy murdered over something he was keeping here?"
Leigh cringed. The last thing she needed was for this guy to call the police now. Bess would kill her, if she had a pulse left when Maura got done. "Oh, no," she said quickly. "Humphrey wasn't murdered. He died of natural causes." Her voice didn't shake as much for that statement, since she was beginning to think it was true. Perhaps the truth wouldn't hurt her at this point. "The thing is—the people at Humphrey's church aren't sure Noel was really his wife."
All trace of jauntiness in the manager's eyes dimmed. "She was listed on the rental agreement as an alternate. I checked," he insisted gravely. "And she had a driver's license that said Noel Humphrey."
Leigh took a deep breath. Honesty was the only way. Otherwise, she had about five more seconds before he kicked her off the premises. "No one is accusing the mini-storage of any impropriety," she said, trying to smile. "But we have reason to believe that Noel Humphrey is a fraud. Isn't there anything else you can tell me about the person who was helping her?"
The manager looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "Sorry, Ms. Koslow. I told you I didn't get a good look at the man. I just got a glimpse of him—they did most of the unloading before I got here. Anyway, I'm not sure you have a right to that information. Humphrey was our client, this Noel person was listed on the contract, she closed the unit. I can’t see where you come into it, and I don't see any reason to invade our ex-clients' privacy." He also made a half-hearted effort to smile. "Again, I'm sorry."
Leigh gritted her teeth, thanked him politely, and left. She climbed into her Cavalier with a new sense of foreboding. She had come hoping to find out whether Humphrey had been storing ghost-making supplies—whatever those might be. She had learned something even more disturbing. Noel had a real, flesh-and-blood accomplice. A short one.
***
The parking lot of the First Church of the New Millenium was so crowded that Leigh ended up walking over from the animal shelter. Evidently, word had spread quickly that Hollandsworth had news on the case, and it was news everyone wanted to hear. By now the board had probably also made it known that Reginald Humphrey had been duped by a dishonest wife—which was bound to bring up a whole new batch of questions and doubts. This was a congregation desperately in need of answers, and she could sympathize. She could use a few herself.
She entered the bustling sanctuary from the back and immediately scanned the crowd. There was no sign of Warren, Shannon, or Ted. Bess was sitting in the first row, however, and Leigh slowly fought her way down front. "What’s happening?" she asked eagerly. "Has Hollandsworth said anything yet?"
Bess shook her head. "No, but—"
Her words were cut short by Hollandsworth himself, who strode purposefully into the room and up to the podium without introduction.
"Handsome devil, isn't he?" Bess said with a grin. Leigh didn't respond, but kept her ears craned for the news.
"I didn't really come here prepared to make a speech," Hollandsworth said awkwardly. "But I know all you people care about the late Reverend Humphrey, so I wanted to tell you myself that the investigation into his death has been officially closed."
He paused as a faint murmuring came up from the congregation. "The coroner has ruled Reginald Humphrey's death as accidental. There was no homicide. The deceased's remains can now be remanded to the custody of his next of kin."
A smile spread slowly over Leigh's face, and she exhaled with relief. A louder commotion arose from the congregation, along with a sea of hands. "What about Ted Hugh? Will the charges be dropped?" A man on the second row asked accusingly.
"Ted Hugh was not arrested on homicide charges," Hollandsworth said tiredly. "He was arrested for breaking and entering. Those charges have already been dropped at the request of the animal shelter board."
Leigh glanced at Bess, who smiled proudly.
Ed approached the podium and whispered something into Hollandsworth's ear. "All right," the detective answered, straightening a piece of paper in front of him. "I'm not a medical expert, so I'm afraid I can't answer many questions beyond what the coroner reported to me. But it looks like Mr. Humphrey died of anaphylactic shock—a systemic allergic reaction to his insulin."
Now it was Leigh's turn to be proud. Bess smiled at her approvingly.
"We were eventually able to locate the physician who most recently treated Mr. Humphrey's diabetes," Hollandsworth continued. "The doctor claims Mr. Humphrey was poorly compliant with her recommendations. She suspected he was stopping and starting his insulin therapy on his own, which was especially dangerous given that he had had previous problems with local allergic reactions. In her opinion and the coroner's, he died of an acute, systemic allergic reaction almost immediately after injecting himself. It's rare, but it happens."
He paused a moment, and Evelyn Ivey's screeching voice immediately broke in. "How do you know he wasn't poisoned?"
Hollandsworth nodded. "Poisoning was suspected. But the coroner's office ran a full battery of toxicology tests on both the body and the remainder of the bottle of insulin. All came back negative. There was no poison."
A sea of hands went up, and Hollandsworth glanced briefly at his watch before pointing to a young woman on the fifth row. It was Cindy, the secretary. "He was allergic to bees, you know!" she said importantly. "Could he have been stung by a bee?"
Hollandsworth shook his head again. "No insect bites or stings." He sighed slightly. "The coroner's ruling is official. The death was accidental; the case is closed." He glanced at his watch again. "I'm sorry I can't answer any more questions on the medical side, but again, that's not my area. Thank you all for your cooperation."
He stepped down from the podium and darted away as quickly as he had come. A buzz of conversation swelled in the sanctuary with the intensity of a shuttle launch, and Bess had to raise her voice for her words to reach Leigh's ear.
"Good news, eh?" She was smiling broadly, as broadly as she had ever smiled since the night of the parsonage fire. "Humphrey died because he didn’t take good care of himself, Ted is innocent of everything except being a dumbass, and I'm pretty sure our favorite missionary has hit the road. Furthermore, the board is doing an excellent job with our—um, 'assigned task,' if I do say so myself. We've even got Reuben convinced that Noel tricked him with some sort of hologram. Which reminds me, we should really go back to the—"
Leigh shook her head. "I just did. All the stuff's gone."
Bess's eyes widened. "All of it? Overnight?"
She nodded, and Bess's smile broadened even more. "Well, that's good news, isn't it? That means she's gone for good!"
Leigh smiled back superficially, her mind burdened with one loose end that refused to fall into place. No one had killed Humphrey, and his scheming widow was
almost certainly gone. So why did it bother her so much that Noel had been at the mini-storage with a man?
A light hand rested briefly on Leigh's shoulder, and she looked up. It was Katharine Bower, looking particularly slender in a casual electric-blue dress. "Hello," the lawyer said in a neutral, professional tone. "I thought you two might like to know that Shannon is at Mercy Hospital. I was meeting with Ted at their house this morning, and she returned home from church, said hello, and collapsed. I drove them both into town."
"Oh, no!" Bess said worriedly. "She wasn't eating, was she? I was worried about that. We all were. Several of the women brought her food—. Is she going to be okay?"
Katharine nodded. "They're just going to keep her on an IV overnight, I believe."
"Shannon's always had terrible problems with anorexia," Bess explained to Leigh. "And she's been under so much stress this week."
"I'm sure she'll recover quickly now that her husband is a free man," Katharine said confidently. "Ted was a bit frantic when I left them at the hospital, but Warren went down and smoothed things over. Thank goodness Shannon had him to lean on yesterday—I don't know how she could have handled Ted's arrest otherwise." Her voice had turned more chipper, probably at the thought of the Harmon charm, Leigh considered grimly. "Anyway," Katharine continued, "my job is done. I'm sure Shannon will be feeling better very soon."
"Thank you, Ms. Bower," Bess said in her most gracious tone. "You've done a beautiful job for Ted. The whole church appreciates it."
Katharine smiled back. "You're welcome." She turned to leave, walked about three paces, and whirled around. "Leigh," she said, her tone unusually amiable. "Why don't you go find Warren? I think you two need to talk."
Leigh froze. She wanted to make an intelligent response, but none came to mind. She certainly had things to say to Warren, but Katharine didn't know about them. And what could Warren have to say to her? Her heart turned to lead. Anything Katharine would want him to tell her couldn't possibly be what she wanted to hear. Could they have gotten engaged?
"She'll do just that," Bess answered for her cheerfully, delivering another strategically placed jab to her niece's ribs. "Goodbye, Ms. Bower."
Leigh thawed enough to offer Katharine a half-hearted wave, then sunk back down in her seat. "They're getting married," she said out loud.
"Nonsense," Bess said firmly. "It could be anything. Don't sit there like a zombie. Go find out. Drop my carcass off at home and then hit the road. It's the only thing to do."
"Ouch!" the third jab in the ribs woke Leigh up for good. She was going.
Chapter 22
When Leigh opened the front door of the farmhouse to help her aunt in, Lydie was standing in the living room, the phone to her ear. At least it looked like Lydie. But for a moment, Leigh wasn't sure.
Being identical twins, Lydie and Leigh's mother looked very similar to the untrained eye, but their mannerisms were unlikely to be confused. Lydie was confident, even-tempered, and optimistic. Frances was—well, Frances. But the look on Lydie's face as Leigh and Bess entered the room had to have been borrowed from her twin. It was Frances's classic puckered-brow, tight-jawed worried look. Worried with a capital W.
Bess caught it, too. "Who is it?" she asked, hobbling forward on her crutches. "Let me have it."
Lydie shook her head and placed the receiver back in its cradle. "Odd," she said thoughtfully. "Very odd."
Bess and Leigh looked at her expectantly. "I haven't been answering the phone," Lydie explained. "I've been letting the machine pick up. But I came down for a drink and was walking right by it when it rang." She tapped her fingers nervously on the receiver. "I said, 'hello,' and a man's voice said, 'You killed him, all of you. But it was your idea. So you're going to pay.' Then he hung up." She paused, then looked questioningly at Bess. "What do you make of it?"
Leigh threw both her aunts a frightened glance. "It's the same man who called this morning," she said anxiously.
"Whoever it was is out of the loop," Bess said flippantly. "He—or she—must have missed the debriefing. Why don't we do that star 69 thing? I'll tell him to take it up with the insulin manufacturer."
"I tried that," Lydie answered. "Star 69, I mean. There was no answer."
"I bet they were at a pay phone," Leigh said distantly. Surely Noel and her significant other were on their way out of town by now, she reasoned. They had probably taken off right after Maura had confronted Noel at the church—and before Hollandsworth's meeting had been announced.
"They?" Bess asked suspiciously. "You know something I don't, kiddo?"
Leigh gave a brief summary of her conversation with the mini-storage manager, but Bess was not impressed. "So, Noel has a boyfriend. So what?"
"So, two are more dangerous than one," Leigh argued. "Noel still thinks you had something to do with Humphrey's death. Maybe she wants to get even."
"Horse feathers," Bess retorted. "She didn't love Humphrey. She recovered from his death a little too fast for that. Trust me—she's only in it for the money. And she's not getting any of mine."
Leigh decided to try another tack. "Don't you remember how the caller said 'you killed him—all of you?' It was as if he suspected that more than one person might have wanted Humphrey dead." She looked at Bess meaningfully. "Who could know that besides the board members—and Noel?"
Lydie's lips twisted into a frown. "It sounds like you could be in real trouble, Bess. Francie said—"
"Our loving sister," Bess began heavily, "is a pathological worrywart, and we all know it. I'm fine. The phone call was just a crank. How's that bathroom coming?"
Lydie appeared to be deciding whether or not to allow herself to become distracted when the phone rang again. Leigh dove for it.
"Hello?" she asked huskily, trying to sound like Bess. The effect was more like a pained mule.
"Um, Bess? Is that you?"
Leigh sighed. It was Barbara. Again. She handed the phone to Bess, then walked into the kitchen and picked up the extension.
"It was him," Barbara was saying weakly as Leigh tuned back in. "I swear to God it was him. It was Reginald."
Leigh caught her breath a moment, then exhaled slowly. Nonsense. Barbara was falling for the same parlor tricks Noel had used on Reuben and Evelyn. She had to be.
"That's ridiculous," Bess answered, echoing Leigh's sentiments. "I got a crank call like that myself this morning, and I'll admit it sounded a little like him, but that's it. Your mind's just playing tricks on you."
"But I listened to the message three times!" Barbara protested. "He said that the board were all murderers, and that they would all pay. Especially you. What could he mean by that? Ed says he thought maybe you would know."
Way to pass the buck, Ed, Leigh thought grimly.
"But, Barb," Bess said soothingly, "if the man was accusing someone of killing Humphrey, how could it have been Humphrey? He didn't say 'you killed me,' did he? That doesn't make any sense."
Barbara sniffled. "I know it doesn't. It's just—" she broke off, and the muffled sounds of nose-blowing traveled through the phone line. "I guess you're right. It couldn't have been him. I was just thinking about him, so the voice sounded familiar." She paused, then sounded more panicked again. "But, Bess—who on earth could it be? I thought everything was settled!"
"It could be anybody," Bess said, more confidently than she had a right to.
"Any nut who's read the papers or watched local news. Everybody who saw the "body in the freezer" stories knows what church he worked at, and the fact that he died of natural causes probably hasn't been reported yet. It's just a crank."
Barbara exhaled. "I suppose so. Maybe I am just imagining things."
Leigh gently let the extension click back in its wall hanger. Bess was a good comforter, but her theory was not without logical flaws. The "body in the freezer" did receive a fair amount of local coverage, but as far as she knew, there weren't many specifics given out. Her name—mercifully—had never surfaced. Neither had Bes
s's, much less Ed's. So how could a crackpot with no ties to the church know who was on the executive board?
"You!" Bess said, wagging a finger at Leigh as she reentered the room. "You have better things to do with your time than eavesdrop on my phone conversations. Go find that man of yours. I'm not talking to you any more until you do." She crossed her arms grumpily across her bountiful chest and glared. "Get out of here."
Leigh sighed. She wanted to go, but she didn't like the phone calls. She didn't like them at all. "I think you should report those calls to the police," she said firmly. "Let me call Maura. She'll know what to do." She dug around in her purse for Maura's business card, then pulled it out. The thing was getting frayed already. It was a bad sign.
"Fine," Bess said, a little too easily. She took the card from Leigh's hand. "I'll call her myself. I promise. You go."
Leigh looked at her aunt skeptically. Maybe no one else in the family could lie well, but Bess wasn't like anyone else in the family. And Leigh didn't believe her for a second.
Neither, apparently, did Lydie, who stepped forward and removed the card from her sister's hand. "I'll call her, Leigh," she said determinedly. "After all, I'm the one who talked to the man."
Leigh smiled. Lydie would come through. She always did. "Try her at home first," Leigh said, taking the card back and scribbling down the second number.
"Now, get!" Bess demanded, and Leigh complied.
The drive back to her apartment seemed to take days, and when it ended, she was more uptight than when she had started. Warren wasn't at home. Could he still be at the hospital with Shannon and Ted? For his sake, she hoped not.
Her head spun as she returned to the Cavalier, her thoughts looping back to the threatening phone calls. Noel had to be involved. But what could she possibly hope to gain?
She began driving just to drive, and as was usually the case in such situations, she ended up in Avalon—in the parking lot of the Koslow Animal Clinic. Seeing her father's car parked in its usual place of honor behind the trash bin, she smiled. Office hours were over, but he often came in late on Saturdays to catch up on paperwork, which made it the perfect time to catch him sans Frances. Randall was always good for an unsettled mind; he had a gift for putting things in perspective, and he never charged a dime.