“Oh. I thought something had happened.” “Something has happened,” Dr. Lee said. Nothing dramatic, but nothing good, either. Could you come to my office, so that we can talk about this in person?”
“This afternoon, you mean?” “As soon as possible.”
Phyllis glanced at the clock. It wasn’t quite three yet. She could get to Dr. Lee’s office, find out what he had to say, and still get back in plenty of time to fix supper.
“I’ll come right over.”
“Thank you. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything about this to Mattie.”
Phyllis hesitated. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable keeping secrets like that.”
‘I know I’m not. That’s why I want to talk to you. Just trust me and reserve judgment for now, if you would.”
If you couldn’t trust your doctor, who could you trust? Phyllis said, “All right. I’ll be there in a little while.”
She said good-bye and hung up, wondering what this was all about.
Whatever it was, she had a strong feeling that it wouldn’t be anything good.
Chapter 29
Phyllis was in the garage, going around the back of the Lincoln to get in, when she heard a car stop at the curb in front of the house. She looked over and saw a vehicle she didn’t recognize, a black SUV Annoyed that she was going to have to wait and deal with whoever this was instead of going straight to Dr. Lee’s office, she walked a few feet out onto the driveway.
Somewhere she had seen the woman who got out of the SLTV and came toward her, but for a moment Phyllis couldn’t remember just where. The woman was large-big boned, as people used to say-and handsome, rather than pretty. She had short, curly brown hair, but when she came closer Phyllis decided that it was dyed, and that the woman was older than she appeared on first glance, at least seventy. That was when she realized that she had seen the woman at Donnie Boatwright’s funeral, sitting up front in the pews reserved for family, next to Charles Boatwright. She was Sally Hughes, Donnie’s and Charles’s sister.
“Mrs. Newsom?” she said curtly.
“That’s right,” Phyllis replied. “What can I do for you?” “My name is Sally Boatwright Hughes,” the woman said, telling Phyllis what she had already figured out. She lifted her chin defiantly. “I was Donnie Boatwright’s sister.”
“Of course, Mrs. Hughes. What can I do for you?” Phyllis asked again.
“You can stop going around town spreading lies about me and my brother Charles.”
Sally Hughes was close now, close enough to make Phyllis uncomfortable. Phyllis took a step back and held up the hand that wasn’t holding her purse. “Wait just a minute, Mrs. Hughes” she began. “I haven’t been spreading any lies.”
“No? Then why have Charles and I had to hire a lawyer to protect ourselves from being harassed by the police?” “You hired Mr. Kinnison, too?” The question was startled out of Phyllis before she could stop it.
Sally Hughes’s eyes widened angrily. “So you admit it!” “I’m not admitting anything” Phyllis shot back. “And I certainly haven’t spread any lies about you.”
“You said that one of us killed our brother!” Sally’s voice went up into a half shout. “You’ve been telling people that we hated poor Donnie and wanted him dead! The police have been asking us all sorts of questions about Donnie and our mother and that old will!”
Phyllis was torn between apprehension-she didn’t like confrontation, and Sally Hughes was really angry-and excitement. Clearly, the police had taken her information seriously and interrogated Sally and Charles. That meant they were no longer focusing on Carolyn as their only suspect in Donnie’s murder. Maybe Phyllis had done some good after all.
“Look, Mrs. Hughes,” she said. “I’m song you’re upset, but I didn’t tell anyone about your mother’s will except the authorities, and they had every right to know. Besides, what happened with your brother and your mother’s estate is all public record. Anyone could have found out about it.”
“No one else cared anymore. Not even Charles and I cared. Everyone had forgotten about it. And then you came along and made it sound like we … like we murdered our own brother because of it!”
“Does your husband know you’re here, Mrs. Hughes?” Phyllis asked cautiously.
“Leave Kent out of this! The next thing you know, you’ll be accusing him of killing Donnie! Well, I won’t allow it, do you hear me?” She shook a finger at Phyllis. “I won’t allow it!”
And with that, she drew back her other arm and swung the heavy black purse in that hand straight at Phyllis’s head. Phyllis let out a gasp and jumped back. The purse zipped past her face, just a few inches in front of her nose. “Mrs. Hughes!” she cried. “Stop that!”
“I’ll shut you up!” Sally Hughes shouted as she bore down on Phyllis, forcing her back toward the garage. “I’ll teach you to lie about my family!”
She drew back the purse for another mighty swing. Before she could strike again, though, someone came up behind her, and fingers clamped around the wrist of the hand holding the purse. She spat out an expletive that Phyllis, having taught school for all those years, had heard before, of course, but not lately, and never from the mouth of a well-to-do woman who had to be at least seventy years old. Sally Hughes twisted around and used her other hand to slap at the man holding her, whom Phyllis had recognized by now as Sam Fletcher. She didn’t know where Sam had come from, but she was greatly relieved that he was here. Sam might have bitten off more than he could chew, though, because Sally either outweighed him or came close to it, and she was still spitting mad. “Let go of me!” she shrieked. “Let go of me, or I’ll have you arrested! Oh!” Sam was able to fend off the blows and catch hold of her other wrist. “Settle down!” he told her. “Dang it, ma’am, stop tryin’ to hit me!”
“You … you terrible man!” Sally panted. She was almost hysterical by now.
But after a minute she abruptly stopped struggling, and her face collapsed in tears. She dropped her purse. It popped open and spilled some of its contents as it hit the driveway. Sam released her wrists and stepped back quickly in case she threw a punch at him, but all the violence in her seemed
to have burned itself out. She put her hands over her face instead and stood there sobbing.
Sam looked at Phyllis with a slightly walleyed stare and said, “What in blue blazes is goin’ on here?”
Phyllis moved around Sally Hughes, keeping as much distance as she could between her and the woman, and came to Sam’s side. “This is Mrs. Hughes,” she said quietly, nodding toward the distraught woman. “Donnie Boatwright’s sister. She’s upset with me.”
“No kiddin’” Sam muttered.
“She thinks I’ve been telling people that she and her brother Charles murdered Donnie. I think the police have tried.to question them.”
Understanding dawned on Sam’s face. “You think we’d better call the cops? She tried to attack you, after all.” Sally Hughes lowered her hands. Her face was red and puffy and wet from crying. “You might as well call the police,” she said miserably. “My reputation is already ruined. All my friends will think that I killed Donnie. “
“You know,” Phyllis said slowly to Sam, “I don’t think she did it, or she wouldn’t be this upset.”
“Of course I didn’t do it! I loved Donnie. I wouldn’t have hurt him.” Sally waved a hand. “Oh, of course I got infuriated at him sometimes! He could be a real pain in the ass! But he was my brother and I loved him, and Charles and I forgave him a long time ago for what he did about Mother’s estate.”
“You forgave him,” Sam said, “but he didn’t give you your share of the money, now did he?”
“Well … no. But we never asked him to. It wasn’t worth tearing the family apart over it. Charles felt the same way. It wasn’t like either of us really needed the money.”
It looked like being a detective had some drawbacks, Phyllis thought. Investigating a crime meant that sooner or later, some innocent peopl
e were going to be under suspicion, and that might well be hurtful to them.
But there was no other way to find out the truth. She said, “Don’t you want your brother’s murderer caught, Mrs. Hughes?”
“Of course I do! But that’s not Charles or me.”
“And once you’re eliminated as suspects, it’ll be that much easier to find the killer.”
Sally sniffed and said acidly, “Finding killers isn’t your job, Mrs. Newsom. It’s a police matter.”
Phyllis couldn’t argue with that statement. But neither could she stand by and let Carolyn be blamed for something she hadn’t done. Sally Hughes wouldn’t be interested in that explanation, though.
Sam picked up Sally Hughes’s purse and the things that had fallen out of it. “I’m a little leery about doing this, but here.” He held them out to her.
Sally took them with another sniff. “Are you going to turn me in for attacking you?” she asked, with a defiant glare at Phyllis.
“No,” Phyllis said. “Just go home and leave me alone.” “You leave me alone,” Sally snapped. She stalked toward her SUV parked at the curb. Phyllis saw now that Sam’s pickup was pulled in behind the SUV He must have driven up, seen Sally coming after Phyllis, and charged across the lawn to stop her.
The two of them stood there in the driveway and watched silently as Sally Hughes got into her vehicle and drove off with an angry screech of tires.
Phyllis turned to Sam. “Thank goodness you got here when you did. She went completely crazy.”
“Crazy enough that maybe she did slip that poison to Donnie?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Phyllis said slowly as she shook her head. “I don’t think she’s that good an actress. She was really offended and upset.”
“That still doesn’t rule her out.”
“No, not entirely. But I don’t believe she did.it.”
From inside the garage, Carolyn asked, “What in the world happened out here? We heard all sorts of commotion. Who was that yelling?”
Mattie peered curiously out from behind the larger Carolyn. The sight of the older woman’s wrinkled face sent a pang of guilt through Phyllis. If Sally Hughes hadn’t shown up when she had, by now Phyllis would be at Dr. Lee’s office, listening to whatever it was the doctor wanted to tell her about Mattie. The idea of going behind Mattie’s back like that nagged at Phyllis’s conscience.
But Dr. Lee had made it sound very important, and in the long run, Mattie’s welfare came first. Phyllis just hoped that the doctor hadn’t decided she wasn’t coming.
“It was nothing to worry about,” she said in reply to Carolyn’s questions. “Sally Hughes stopped by. She was upset about something.”
“What?” Carolyn asked bluntly.
Phyllis took a deep breath. She didn’t want to give Carolyn any false hope, but she deserved an honest answer. “Evidently the police are taking an interest in her and her brother as possible suspects in Donnie’s murder. That lawyer, Mr. Kinnison, must have told her that I was to blame for that, because of the questions I’ve been asking.”
Carolyn’s eyes widened with shock and relief. “Men … they don’t think I did it anymore?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Phyllis cautioned. “You’re probably still a suspect. But at least you’re not the only suspect anymore.”
Mattie shook her head. “All this fuss over a fella like Donnie. I’ve never seen the likes of it.”
“Fuss is right,” Sam said with a smile. “She came after Phyllis swinging her purse like a club.”
“My God,” Carolyn said as she started forward. “Are you all right, Phyllis?”
“I’m fine,” Phyllis assured her. “She never laid a finger on me, thanks to Sam.”
“Yeah, I’m glad I got back from the lumberyard when I did.” He glanced at Phyllis’s purse. “Were you on your way somewhere when she came up and stopped you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do have an errand to run. I’ll be back in plenty of time to get supper ready, though.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Carolyn asked. “I’m fine,” Phyllis said.
But she wasn’t sure she really would be until she heard what Dr. Walt Lee had to say … and even then, if the news was as bad as she expected, she wouldn’t be fine at all.
Chapter 30
As she drove toward Dr. Lee’s office, which was located near the hospital, Phyllis thought about the confrontation with Sally Hughes. While there was little doubt in her mind that Sally was not guilty of Donnie’s murder, she had to admit that Sally-and her brother Charles—had strong motives. A double motive, so to speak, because Donnie’s death not only avenged the wrong that he had done to them so many years earlier, but it put money in their pockets as well. She assumed Donnie’s estate had gone to Charles and Sally, but she realized she didn’t know for sure. That might be worth checking into.
Carolyn, on the other hand, didn’t profit financially from Donnie’s death. If she had killed him, the only thing she got out of it was vengeance.
That started Phyllis thinking about the other tragedies that had occurred. Like Sally and Charles, Darryl Bishop would have had a double motive in killing a relative, in his case his father, Newt. Although again she couldn’t be sure of it, Phyllis assumed that Darryl had inherited his father’s farm. That would make him a lot better off financially than he had been, and he also would have had the satisfaction of striking back at the man who had mistreated him as a child. Alfred Landers would have had no reason to kill Newt except for pure spite over losing that lawsuit.
Jani Garrett was the wild card here. Phyllis had no idea what the young teacher’s life was like other than her predilection for messing around with male students. As a schoolteacher, though, it was highly likely that she didn’t have much money. The attempt on Jani’s life had to have been a crime of passion, carried out by a parent of one of the young men she had seduced, or by one of the students themselves. As Dolly Williamson had said, a young man with a broken heart was liable to be so upset that he would do almost anything….
Once again an insistent feeling nudged at the back of Phyllis’s brain, a not-so-gentle reminder that she was overlooking something. She thought about Newt Bishop, Donnie Boatwright, and Jam Garrett and asked herself again what the three of them could have had in common.
By the time she reached the doctor’s office, she still hadn’t come up with an answer. With a sigh, she put the matter out of her mind as she parked the car. The past was dead and gone and couldn’t be changed. Now she had to deal with the present.
She went into the office and told the receptionist that Dr. Lee was expecting her. “I got delayed a little,’ she said apologetically. “I hope I haven’t caused a problem.”
The receptionist smiled at her. “I’ll let the nurse know you’re here.”
A few minutes later, the door into the hallway where the examining rooms were located opened and a nurse stuck her head out. “Mrs. Newsom” she said. “Come on back.”
This felt like she was visiting the doctor for a checkup of her own, Phyllis thought, as she followed the nurse into the hall. Instead of stopping at one of the little .exam rooms, however, they went all the way to the end of the corridor, where the nurse opened the door into Dr. Lee’s private office.
“Go on in and have a seat.” she said with a pleasant smile. “The doctor will be with you in just a minute.”
Phyllis knew good and well that “just a minute” to a doctor could mean forty-five minutes to an hour or more, but Walt Lee surprised her by coming into the office less than five minutes later. “Hello, Phyllis.” he said as he went behind the desk and set down the large manila file folder he was carrying. “Thanks for coming.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long. I got delayed,” Phyllis said again, without offering an explanation of what had happened. She didn’t want to admit that she had almost been clobbered by a large, angry, purse-swinging murder suspect.
As Dr. Lee settl
ed into his comfortable swivel chair, he asked, “First of all, how are you doing these days? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Phyllis said without hesitation. “No complaints. I haven’t missed a checkup, have I?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Lee reached forward and opened the file folder. “Actually, as I mentioned on the phone, it’s Mattie that I want to talk to you about. I got some test results today … “
“Are you sure you shouldn’t be talking to Mattie herself about this?” Phyllis broke in.
“I would … but Mattie told me some months ago, when she realized that’ she was starting to have more and more trouble with her thinking, that I ought to talk to you if anything serious came up.”
A Peach of a Murder Page 22