Gloria Meddlestein said, “Can you believe the heinous sickness of that beast? Breaking bread with a guest—poisoned bread. Donna, I hope you never go out with his type again. Who knows what he would do to a sweet innocent girl—”
I said, “I never dated him! Never!”
Perry said, “I dated his ex-wife. But she never gave me food.”
Mr. Meddlestein said, “Sorry, Judge, but she was just using you to get your antique money.”
Tammy asked, “So did they catch him then?”
Chief Bubba said, “Not last I heard.”
I could see the puzzle pieces again. They were tumbling into place. I said, “I’ll bet Officer Dick torched Little Mount Vernon.”
Tammy said, “Yeah!”
Bubba asked, “What motive?”
I said, “Tammy, did your boys empty out the attic over the carport?”
“Eww, no. I didn’t want moldy spidery junk.”
“Did you come across Daddy’s Marilyn Monroe things—you know, her silver hairbrush set, the naked pool cue, her cancelled check, the life-sized stand-up?”
“Nope.”
Bubba said, “Nathan loved collecting that stuff. When we were up at the cabin on Mount Storm, turkey huntin’, he brought an autographed copy of the first Playboy magazine. Marilyn was the centerfold.”
Mrs. Meddlestein said, “Roddy, tell me you didn’t look at that?”
“Not me, dear.” He grinned.
I said, “Tammy!” The wigs, of course.
She snapped, “What?”
“I bet that Officer Dick broke into your apartment. He said he liked your apartment and that he had his hair done at your place. Didn’t he, Mr. Meddlestein?”
Tammy yanked the blanket over herself and said, “No!”
Mr. Meddlestein nodded. “Yes, that’s what he said. What are you saying?”
I was on a roll. “Did you notice anything strange, anything touched? Like your wigs?”
“Yes! One of them is missing. And a small makeup kit. So you’re saying Officer Dick broke into my apartment? A murderer in my apartment!” She started sobbing.
Mrs. Meddlestein wrapped her arm around my sister.
Chief Bubba Wrigley jumped up. “Why’d I have to go and retire? Hold on, I’m gonna go and call in the detectives from my old MPD outfit, the Fairfax PD and now I guess we’ve moved into Maryland. Where’s your house, Miss Tammy?”
“College Park.”
“Three jurisdictions. I’ll be back.” He trotted out, presumably to get on the horn to his cronies.
Tammy was still in hysterics when Chief Bubba trotted back into my living room. He nodded to me. “Go on, Miss Donna. What are you getting at?”
I said, “First I want to share the last conversation I had with Daddy. Monday morning, July thirty-first. I found him lying on the floor pinned under the deep freezer. Bear in mind he wasn’t wearing his cataract glasses and he was legally blind without them. I asked Daddy what made the freezer turn over on him. He accused Momma and then he said that she was as strong as a man when she attacked him. He said that she’d demanded the money and that he would never give it up.”
Perry said, “He had some of the uncut hundreds stowed in the attic over the carport.”
I said, “Can we all agree that Nathan Payne couldn’t see a thing without his glasses and sometimes with them?” I looked around until everyone nodded. “He did not have his glasses on when I found him and I don’t know, Tammy, did your boys find them when they moved things?”
“They were on his nightstand upstairs,” Tammy said.
“Well, just suppose that Daddy was confused. We know he could hardly see what was in front of him.” I looked around again for nods. “Suppose that Dick showed up, in a dress, makeup and wig—Tammy, what wig is missing?”
She jumped up. The blanket fell on the floor. “A copper one! Chloe’s color!”
I was sleuthing on. “Dick is into wigs. Remember the wig boxes in his basement?” I looked around. Perry and Tammy nodded. I turned to Chief Bubba Wrigley. “I bet you’ll find Tammy’s wig in Officer Dick’s basement, Chief.”
I continued, “Suppose Officer Dick Fiddler showed up at Little Mount Vernon, dressed like Momma and surprised Daddy. He was in bed napping. Daddy ran downstairs. Or maybe Dick lured him down. Dick demanded the money. They struggled. Dick turned the freezer over on Daddy. Then Dick searched the house for more hundred-dollar bills. Maybe he found the Marilyn collection too.”
Bubba said, “So that’s why Nathan told you that your mother killed him and that she was strong as a man. It was Dick!”
I exhaled. “Yes, Daddy got confused. Momma did attack him four days earlier. She was mad at him. It’s a long story, you’ll have to contact his brother, Dr. Howard Payne in Sacramento, California, to get the details and verify it but…Daddy had implanted one of Marilyn Monroe’s ovaries into Chloe in 1963. He thought she slept with JFK and therefore thought I was Marilyn’s biological daughter.”
No one said a word. I could tell by the looks on their faces nobody believed me. Or maybe they did but were afraid to admit it. “Believe what you will but like I said, contact Uncle Howard for verification.”
Bubba cleared his throat, “Let’s get back to this case. Fiddler would have had to have been at Little Mount Vernon on two occasions—the day you found Nathan under the deep freezer and again when he allegedly torched the place.”
I said, “Check with the Fairfax County police. He went missing, remember? See if the dates match up.”
Roddy Meddlestein made notations on his legal pad. “Right.”
Mrs. Meddlestein asked, “Wait a minute. Who said Dick Fiddler torched Little Mount Vernon? Why would he do that? I’m not convinced.”
Perry said, “If he did, perhaps it would be to cover up his crime.”
Mr. Meddlestein said, “That struggle business is out of character, not his modus operandi. His method of murder was poison.”
Bubba said, “Perhaps he hadn’t gone to Nathan’s to kill him. He just wanted the money. Nathan challenged him and things got rough.”
I said, “The cause of death was myocardial infarction. He was ninety-two years old. There was no autopsy and one can’t be done now since my sister decided to cremate him.” I glared at Tammy.
Doctor Goldfarb said, “Traces of poison might be found in the ashes. However, since there is no indication he poisoned Nathan, that’s a moot point.”
I looked at Perry. “So there isn’t sufficient evidence to charge Dick Fiddler with Daddy’s murder.”
“You’re right,” Perry replied.
I said, “Well then, who torched Little Mount Vernon?”
Bubba’s cell phone rang. He excused himself and trudged into the kitchen.
Gloria Meddlestein stood up and cleared her throat. “I have a nice cheesecake in the refrigerator. Would anyone care for a piece?”
Perry’s eyebrows lifted but before he could order, retired DC Metropolitan Police Chief Bubba Wrigley rejoined us. “I just got the word from the fire marshal. He’s my nephew Tommy. Good boy. The final cause of the fire has been determined. Faulty wiring. It was the toaster.”
I said, “So there was no murder or arson at Mount Vernon.”
“Correct,” Bubba agreed.
I threw my arms up in the air and shook my head in disbelief. This was just another wild twisted chapter in the Payne family saga. “Jeezeemeezee. Is all my hair gone gray now? Well, who is gonna explain away the counterfeit money disappearing? And why did Dick try to kill Mr. Meddlestein? Did we ever hash that one out?”
Perry said, “Oh-Donna, so nobody torched Little Mount Vernon. Fine. But just because there is not sufficient evidence to charge Dick Fiddler, it does not mean that he didn’t inflict the injuries that led to Daddy’s death.”
Boy, did my head hurt. I excused myself and trotted upstairs to swallow aspirin. As I returned, I heard Perry say, “Rod, my sister told me that Dad wrote another will?”
The tune of “Aura Lee” interrupted. Bubba took care of answering my door. He tramped back in with a Fairfax County police detective in tow. “This is Sergeant Valdez. He’s been working on the Fiddler case.”
Everyone nodded.
Rod Meddlestein said, “That’s right. Nathan had me make up a new will. Last September. Everything to Chloe.”
Perry asked, “Well, what if Chloe can’t be found? Would it go to her heirs, or did he designate a secondary beneficiary?”
Roddy said, “It depends if Chloe pre-deceased Nathan or not.”
I said, “No! She didn’t.”
Tammy said, “That’s right, she was in Saint Christopher’s.”
Perry asked, “Well, then do we need to find her?”
Tammy said, “What good would that do? So we find her and she gets it all.”
I said, “Get out! Get outa my house! I can’t believe you two. Chloe loved you and took care of you and sacrificed her life for you. And now you only want to find her so what? So you can watch her and hope she dies and leaves you money?” It irked me to no end that the children Chloe did dote on didn’t return her affection.
Bubba held me back. “Calm down, Miss Donna. This is an emotionally charged time for all of us. No need to be saying things you’ll regret.”
The locksmith materialized. “I’m finished, ma’am. You won’t be having any more uninvited guests.”
“How’d you know I had an uninvited guest?”
All eyes turned to him. The locksmith said, “All the scratch and pry marks on what used to be the outside of the door. They’ve been taken off the hinges and not professionally. Used some makeshift tool.”
I huffed out a long sigh. “Sorry. Yes, I know somebody broke in. And I know who. How much do I owe you?”
Rod Meddlestein said, “Send the bill to my office.”
Sgt. Valdez said, “Show me these marks.”
The locksmith led the Fairfax County Police detective back into my kitchen. Bubba tagged along.
Perry asked, “Is anybody hungry? Shall we order out?”
Roddy shook his head. “My gut is still in an uproar. No thanks.”
Gloria Meddlestein said, “Sorry, but I checked Donna’s fridge earlier. Even I can’t pull a meal together from empty shelves. All I can offer is the cheesecake I brought from home.”
Tammy said, “I could eat some Chinese.”
I said, “No,” remembering the delivery guy in the crowd when I was arrested.
Perry said, “Well then, pizza it is. What’s the number for your local joint?”
“You’ll have to look it up. The phone book’s in the kitchen, in the cabinet over the phone.”
He hoisted his body up and waddled down the hall.
Rod said, “Might as well go have a look at that door. I’ll fill the detective in too.”
Mrs. Meddlestein jumped up to steady him. He carried his legal pad, she supported him. Doc Goldfarb trotted along.
I looked at my sister. She looked at me. I said, “What?”
She said, “I’m not going back to my apartment, Oh-Donna.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No! I’ve been violated there. Dick the murderer broke in and stole my things.”
“Dick’s still on the loose. Maybe you shouldn’t go back there.”
Perry came in and plopped down on the sofa. “Pizza’s on the way.”
Tammy said, “Let’s rebuild Little Mount Vernon.”
We gawked at her.
She said, “No, really. Let’s rebuild Little Mount Vernon. In honor of Mom and Dad…and then let’s all move in together.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Perry said, “I’m in.”
I said, “What?”
He said, “If we can get Meddlestein to file the insurance claim on Chloe’s behalf, then we can have the funds for the rebuilding.”
I said, “Oh no, you don’t. You’re not getting your hands on that insurance money.”
He shot an annoyed look at me. “Oh-Donna, the attorney would control the money, pay the contractors. Just how low do you think I am?”
Snake belly low. “Am I to assume you are rebuilding the house for Chloe then? In the hopes that she’ll feel welcome and loved enough to come home?” I knew very well Chloe would live out her final days on Make Believe Island with Mike.
The kitchen contingent reassembled in the living room. We said our goodbyes. I shut the door. Just us three Payne siblings remained.
“I’m going to bed,” I said.
Perry asked, “What about the pizza?”
“Save me some in the fridge.”
Tammy said, “Do you need any help getting up the stairs?”
I glared at her. “No thanks.”
“Aura Lee” belched out. I huffed over to the door. It was Roddy Meddlestein.
“I had an interesting conversation with Sgt. Valdez. It seems they have the counterfeit money and he acknowledged they found two boxes of Marilyn Monroe things in Fiddler’s house. Just thought you’d like to know. I’ll be in touch.”
He shut the door.
I turned to the siblings and said, “You hear all that?”
They nodded. I climbed the stairs to my room. As tired as I was, sleep did not come. Fine. I decided to find something to read. Something boring. I remembered that envelope full of top-secret documents from Momma’s lingerie chest. I wrestled it out of my purse, it had been folded in half and crushed by all the junk I’d shoved in there. I turned my bedside lamp on and fluffed my pillows. Situated under the covers, I opened the envelope and removed the documents. I glanced at the first one, the bit about the uncut hundreds. I tossed that aside, on top of the envelope. The rest of the papers were bound together between two pieces of yellowed cardstock, stapled up the left margin. It too was stamped Top Secret. I folded the cover back. The first page was on Secret Service letterhead. It appeared to be a report.
Summation of Case Number A–1945–201793
Wimpledink, Blandings, Drake, Cox and Fiddler
Agent Chloe Lambert was sent to infiltrate a probable counterfeiting ring inside the Washington Bureau of Printing and Engraving in February 1945. Lambert posed as a currency inspector. She quickly deduced the personnel director, Myron Wimpledink, and a BEP police sergeant, Bill Blandings, were intercepting the imperfect currency before it was incinerated. They laundered the money through offshore banks, using Wimpledink’s girlfriend, Miss Shirley Fiddler of the District of Columbia, to make the drops.
The perpetrators set our mole, Agent Lambert, up to take the counterfeiting fall by feeding false information to Secret Service agent Jones. Lambert had a spotless record, so three British agents were called in on favor to infiltrate. Robin Blair, Ebenezer Cox and Donald Drake. Wimpledink immediately put Cox and Drake on his payroll. Blair went along with the ruse.
The British agents intimidated Blandings’ wife, Mrs. Vera Blandings, personal secretary to President Roosevelt. They coerced her into staging a false murder of her husband. Agent Lambert took the bait and fled to Miami Beach, Florida.
Credible threats against President Roosevelt made it necessary to separate the line of ascension. Vice President Truman went into hiding at a US safe house on Make Believe Island in the Florida Keys. He was bodyguarded by Agents Taurus and Lambert.
Agent Lambert was kidnapped by Cox, Drake and Blair. She was taken by sea to Bermuda, where Miss Fiddler made a money drop at the Bank of Bermuda. Secret Service agent Orpha Livingston was our mole on that mission.
Drake laced hamburger buns with ricin and corn cockle poison. It was traced back to Wimpledink. Agent Jones was their target when they discovered he was on to their crime. He died in the White House in the presence of now President Truman. Although the President shared victuals with Agent Jones, he escaped the attack unharmed since only one bun was poisoned.
Wimpledink and Fiddler were arrested by Secret Service agent Alvin McBride at Wimpledink’s Arlington, Virginia home. Drake and Cox were ap
prehended by Agent Lambert at her mother’s home in Shrew, North Carolina. All four were convicted of counterfeiting, Wimpledink and Drake were also convicted of the first degree murder of Agent Jones. Drake and Cox were convicted of kidnapping. Bill Blandings is now deceased.
I didn’t care anything about the counterfeiting or Bill Blandings or Vera or Chloe. All I could focus on was Agent Jones’ murder. My Mr. Jones. He died in the line of duty.
~*~
I woke up Sunday morning with no memory of dreaming. How sad. Well, some of the latest dreams had been nightmares but I wished I could go back and get the good ones. The first ones. The romantic ones. Oh how I wished Mr. Jones was real. Well, maybe he once was but not in my lifetime. Damn that Myron Wimpledink and damn his demon spawn Officer Dick.
I heard water running. Great. They were still here. Demon siblings. On the ruse of taking care of poor retarded brain-damaged Oh-Donna. I really hated that nickname.
I did my abdominal crunches and weighed in at one hundred and thirty pounds. Shoot. Went up a hair. I took a shower and made myself presentable in sapphire sweat pants and a matching T-shirt. I blow-dried my hair with the diffuser and scrunched the curls.
I opened my bedroom door. The Great Dane had been sleeping up against it. She jumped up and began licking me and trying to shake paws with me. I shook and then petted her.
I trotted down the steps. Scooby Doo-ette nearly tripped me twice, running right along as if I’d challenged her to a race. I heard the vacuum. I shuffled past the living room to witness Tammy running the sweeper. “Good morning.” She didn’t hear me. Headphones.
I plodded into the kitchen. Perry was plating up omelets, toast, bacon, sausage gravy and biscuits.
“Hello,” I said.
“Sit down, just in time.”
“I can’t eat all that, Perry. Umm, thanks though.”
“Just pick at what you want and I’ll finish it.”
I half-grinned. He was a good cook. I nibbled a bit of biscuit and gravy. “This is really good, Perry.”
The Immaculate Deception Page 31