Murder and Misdeeds

by Helen Goodman

  “You think?”

  “I know. Take my grand-niece, Clara. She's in a troubled marriage. I was concerned about her and we talked. Know what she told me?”

  “Now that's a rhetorical question if ever I heard one.”

  Jeremiah grinned and smoothed back his hair that was playing tag with the wind. “She said she was going to work on it, give him a chance to straighten up and fly right, and if he didn't, she'd move on.”

  “Brave talk, but I doubt it's that easy.”

  “I know it's not, especially since she's expecting.”

  “Clara's pregnant? I didn't know that. Do Amy and Paul know they're going to be grandparents?”

  “She told the family a few days ago. She's only a couple of months along.” Jeremiah pushed the swing back and forth a few times before going on. “She's determined to have the baby with or without Tony. Whatever happens she'll be all right. As I said, young people are tough and resilient. Keisha will be fine, and so will Brian. You have to let them find their own way.”

  “You're right. And I think I need to get better acquainted with Clara. She sounds like she's got a real head on her shoulders. What does she do? I don't recall Paul saying.”

  “She's a librarian—a genuine bibliophile.”

  “A woman after my own heart. And Tony?”

  “The only thing he reads is the financial page. He's an investment broker. Paul thinks he's pretty smart. He handles investments for all the partners.”

  “Well, as the old saying goes—opposites attract. I wish them my best.” The wind picked up a little and Fonnie shivered. “But it's harder to be resilient when we get older. I wonder how Midge will do.”

  “A good looking, financially-secure widow in her fifties? Give her a few months and she'll be riding high.”

  “Providing there's no surprise on the autopsy.”

  Jeremiah braked the swing to an abrupt halt. “Why do you say that?”

  “I don't know. Just a gut feeling. I can't put my finger on it. It's the same kind of feeling I had when my roommate at the nursing home died. The doctor there said it was a heart attack.”

  “And it wasn't?”

  Fonnie shook her head. “It was murder.”

  “Wow!”

  “Yeah, wow. But in this case, I hope I'm wrong.”

  “The autopsy was scheduled for this morning. Surely they'll let Midge know something by this afternoon.”

  “But how will I know? I'm not family or even a close friend.”

  “Edgar will insist on finding out since he's head of the firm, and Edgar will have to tell me so I can keep Paul informed. Then I'll tell you. Okay?”

  “That'll work.”

  “Okay.”

  Keisha stretched, grinned, rolled over and hugged her pillow. Snatches of a song she'd heard recently on TV jiggled in her head. It was from an old musical whose title she couldn't recall but she sang some of the words softly. “It's a grand night for singing. The stars are bright above. La la la. And I think I am falling in love.” She threw the pillow on the floor, dashed to the window, and sang to the gentle waves. “Falling, falling in love.”

  She ran over to the dresser and peered into the mirror. “Yes, Keisha Riggs. I think you're in love.” She snatched up her shawl from a chair and twirled around the room.

  Dressing quickly, she hurried to the lobby where Stephon was waiting for her with a smile as big as New York. “I called the office. They can do without me until after the weekend. And since Monday is Presidents' Day, it'll be a long weekend.” He reached over and grasped her hand. “What do you think about that?”

  Keisha curled her fingers around his. “I think it was very considerate of George and Abe to have February birthdays. I always did like those guys.”

  “I just saw Fonnie with Jeremiah in the gazebo. Maybe he'll keep her busy so we can spend some time alone.”

  Chapter Seven

  A light rain drove Fonnie and Jeremiah out of the gazebo and back to the motel. Jeremiah suggested they take a drive up the coast. “No use moping around waiting for the autopsy report. We can take a leisurely ride, stop somewhere for lunch, then meander back.”

  “Sounds good. Let me go to my room and freshen up and see what Keisha has in mind.”

  She spied Keisha before reaching the elevator and waved her over.

  It looked to Fonnie as if Keisha was taking her own sweet time crossing the room. When she finally made it, Fonnie was quick to reassure her. “Don’t worry; I don’t need your help with anything. Just wanted to talk.”

  “Good. Talk away.”

  “Jeremiah and I are going for a ride. Want to come along?”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. Stephon and I decided to sit out the rain watching a movie in his room.”

  Fonnie nearly bit her tongue to avoid giving the young girl some grandmotherly advice. Instead she said, “That's nice. It'll give you a chance to get better acquainted. You probably have questions about his background.”

  The elevator door opened and Keisha followed Fonnie inside continuing the conversation. “I know all I need to know about Stephon, but you apparently have some questions. So go ahead and ask away. If I know the answer, I'll tell you and if not, I'll find out.”

  “It's really none of my business but....”

  “That's right. But you're nosy.”

  The elevator stopped and Fonnie flounced down the hall with Keisha close behind. Unlocking her door, she tried to explain, “I like to know about people. That's all.”

  “Okay, then I’ll come in and tell you all I know.”

  Fonnie grinned, claimed a chair and motioned Keisha to the other.

  Without any other preliminary, Keisha started in. “Here's a brief bio. Stephon is one of seven children. His siblings are scattered throughout the South. His parents live in Wheeling. He graduated from UVA. He likes his work. He admires Amy. And he intends to make it big in real estate. Anything else you want to know?”

  “Does he travel much in his real estate ventures?”

  Keisha gave Fonnie a puzzled look. “Just around the Richmond area I guess. He's only licensed in Virginia.”

  So, Fonnie thought, what was he doing in Florida last week? And had he mentioned it to Keisha? If so, she gave no indication of it. “Well,” Fonnie said. “It's nice he can get some vacation time. I remember when Amy started in the business; she seldom was able to take time off. But I guess things change.”

  “I don't know about that. He's planning on staying here through President's Day. Then he has to get back to the office.” Keisha put on a smile. “Now if that’s all, I'm sure Jeremiah is waiting for you and I know Stephon is waiting for me. Want to meet up for dinner about six?”

  Fonnie nodded as her friend left the room.

  When Jeremiah and Fonnie returned from their ride, she retreated to her room for a nap and Jeremiah went in search of Edgar to find out if he had any news of the autopsy report. They planned to meet back in the dining room.

  Fonnie went down early. She wanted to be sure to be there when Jeremiah brought the news. The room was filling up with guests arriving for the three-day weekend. Brian had told her February was not a good beach month, but there seemed to be a lot of people who didn't agree with him. Or maybe some folks figured any holiday was a good excuse to leave home.

  She commandeered a table near the verandah where she could look out to the rolling surf. The rain had stopped and the fading daylight was glistening on the water. The beach is lovely, she thought, no matter what time of year it is.

  She glanced up to see Clara entering the room alone. Fonnie waved, got Clara's attention and motioned her over. “You're alone?” Fonnie asked.

  Clara gave a weak smile. “Looks like. Tony said he was going jogging an hour ago and hasn't gotten back. He probably got to talking with somebody. I've been busy packing. We plan on going home in the morning.” She pulled out a chair. “May I join you?”

  Fonnie nodded. “Please do. I'm expecting your uncle momenta
rily as well as Keisha and Stephon. When Tony comes we can make room for him too.”

  Clara sat down and clasped her hands in front of her. “I'm glad Jeremiah's made a friend here. You two make a nice couple.”

  “I enjoy his company,” Fonnie said. “He's certainly not boring.” She paused, reached over and grasped Clara's hands. “And he told me your good news. Since I'm your father's mother-in-law, will the baby make me an official great-grandmother?”

  “Absolutely. That is, if that's the way you want it.”

  “Of course, that's the way I want it. Everybody is going to be thrilled with that baby.”

  Clara bent her head and said softly. “I hope you're right.”

  Before Fonnie could answer, she saw Keisha, Stephon, and Jeremiah coming toward the table. The two young people were smiling at each other as if they were sharing a delicious secret. Jeremiah looked worried.

  The three of them greeted Clara. “Where's Tony?” Stephon asked as he pulled out Keisha's chair and then seated himself.

  Clara shrugged. “I suspect he'll be along shortly.”

  Fonnie immediately turned her attention to Jeremiah. She didn't even wait for him to get seated before she asked, “Any news?”

  He dropped into his chair and took a deep breath. “Afraid so.”

  His brief answer got the attention of everyone at the table. Keisha and Stephon stopped looking at each other and stared at the older man. Clara clenched her fists tighter.

  Fonnie barely gave him a nanosecond to continue before she demanded, “What?”

  “Edgar, acting as attorney for the next of kin, got the autopsy report. It only said that further examination was warranted. Blood and tissue samples are being sent to Chapel Hill to the state chief medical examiner.”

  Keisha shook her head. “I don't understand. What does that mean? Why would they need further tests?”

  “It means they still can't determine the cause of death,” Fonnie said. “And the state medical examiner can do more elaborate testing than can be done on the local level.”

  Stephon started playing with his silverware, then looked up at Fonnie, and asked, “Testing for what?”

  Before she had a chance to answer, a waitress came up, placed menus and water on the table, and assured them she'd be right back to take their order.

  Jeremiah nodded at her. “No hurry.”

  Keisha repeated Stephon's question, “What are they testing for?”

  Fonnie shrugged. “I suppose anything unusual, something in his blood or tissues that shouldn't be there.”

  “Anything suspicious,” Jeremiah added.

  Stephon took a long drink of water, sat the glass down slowly. “You mean like—poison.”

  Clara gave a short laugh. “Don't be ridiculous, Stephon. Why would anyone want to poison Buzz Garrison? Everybody liked him.”

  Stephon propped his chin on his hand and let out a low, “Hmmm. Maybe not everybody.”

  Keisha stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Maybe little Midge got tired of all his whining and decided to put him out of his misery.”

  “How can you say such a horrible thing? Midge is heartbroken over Buzz's death.” Keisha turned to Fonnie. “You were there with her when the doctor came out. You saw how upset she was.”

  “Yes. It was a great shock to her.” Fonnie took sip of water. “She loved him. I could tell that.”

  “You wouldn't say that if you'd seen how they bickered all the time,” Stephon said. “Let me tell you they were not lovey-dovey.”

  “Oh? You spent a lot time with them?” If Stephon's visit in Miami was completely innocent, Fonnie thought, then here was his chance to mention it. He could tell about night clubbing with Buzz and Midge and Melanie. She waited. He didn't mention Florida at all.

  “No. Not really. I had drinks with them a couple of times after I played golf with Buzz. But all that time she was bitching about one thing or the other. And Buzz wasn't shy about throwing it back at her.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “He's right. Paul invited me to a couple of parties that included his partners and their wives. Midge and Buzz were not poster children for a happy marriage. I guess they stayed together out of habit or convenience or stubbornness. Hard to tell.”

  Keisha threw up a hand like a cop stopping traffic. “Wait a minute. Aren't you two getting carried away? I admit I thought Midge was lacking in compassion about Buzz's illness, but when he died, I swear she was devastated.”

  “Let's forget about Midge for a minute,” Fonnie said. “Jeremiah, was that all Edgar had to say about the autopsy?”

  “Only that he was as mad as hell.”

  “Why would he be mad?” Clara asked.

  “Edgar's a control freak. He likes to run things. He'd already scheduled the cremation and the memorial service. He told me that Midge asked him to take care of the details. She and Buzz had no children, and his only sister is in a nursing home. Edgar jumped on the assignment like he does most jobs. Now his plans are all screwed up and he's mad. Can't say that I blame him.”

  Clara frowned. “It seems to me that finding the truth should take precedence over a timetable. Did Edgar say when the final arrangements could go ahead?”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “They told him that with the holiday weekend coming up, it might be next week before the body was released.”

  “Poor Midge,” Keisha said. “The waiting will be hard on her.”

  Jeremiah picked up his menu as the waitress came toward them. “It's time to think about something more cheerful. I'm for whatever that delicious smell is coming from the kitchen.”

  Conversation stalled while their orders were being taken. Then Jeremiah started a discussion about the various lighthouses along the Carolina beaches. That was fine with Fonnie, and the others seemed glad to talk about something besides death and autopsies.

  Clara kept up her end of the exchange, but Fonnie noticed she kept looking expectantly at the door. When the food arrived and Tony failed to appear, Clara ate quickly and then excused herself. “I'd better finish packing. Tony wants to leave early tomorrow.” She smiled around the table. “It's been so nice meeting all of you.”

  Jeremiah stood up and gave her a hug. “I'll call you when I get back home. Maybe we can have lunch together.”

  “I'd like that.”

  Clara hadn't been gone long when Stephon pushed back from the table. “Looks like the wind has died down some. Let's take a stroll on the beach, Keisha, before it gets completely dark.”

  She slid her chair back. “Sounds like fun.”

  Jeremiah gave them a slight wave. “Maybe we could get together later and play a little canasta.”

  Keisha hesitated. “Maybe. What do you think, Stephon?”

  “I'm not much for cards. And I hear there's a club down the road with a pretty good band. We might give them a try.” He looked over at Fonnie. “Want to shake a leg with us?”

  “I'm afraid my legs wouldn't take your kind of music.”

  After the young people left, Jeremiah turned to Fonnie. “I really must call Paul tonight and fill him in.”

  “Yes, of course. But tell him they don't have to hurry back since the memorial service won't be until next week. And try not to worry him about—about the cause of death. We really don't know anything for sure.”

  “I'll be discreet. But just between you and me, what do you think?”

  Fonnie turned her head and looked out the window at the lovely beach, the soft waves, the soaring gulls.

  She leaned back in her chair, wiped her hand across her forehead. “I think Buzz was poisoned. And the murderer is here.”

  Chapter Eight

  Fonnie's gaze followed Jeremiah as he left to call Paul and Amy. She hated that their honeymoon was going to be interrupted with the news of a death—an unexpected death—a suspicious death.

  Her thoughts centered on the state medical examiner in Chapel Hill. What tests were being done? They had to be tests for a pois
onous substance. Buzz sure hadn't been shot or beaten or smothered or drowned. Something had alerted the doctor or medical examiner here to the possibility of foul play. Fonnie wished she could have gotten closer to the victim last night. Maybe she would have noticed something. Skin discoloration, an odd odor, something. But if there had been anything suspicious, Melanie or Brian would have picked up on it.

  Fonnie smiled as one of the people in her thoughts materialized in front of her face. “Melanie. I'm so glad you're here.” She motioned for the younger woman to join her. “I was just going to have more coffee. Want some?”

  Melanie sank into the chair opposite Fonnie, her hair windblown, her face sweaty, her eyes angry. “Might as well. Nothing else to do around this place except run and wait.”

  “You've been running again? There's such a thing as overdoing the exercise bit, you know.”

  “I know. But I'm so frustrated.”

  Fonnie assumed what she hoped was an innocent look and pretended not to know anything about the autopsy report. “Frustrated? About what?”

  “You haven't heard? The two-bit, small-town medical examiner here can't make up his mind about Buzz's cause of death, so he's holding up the funeral in order to get a second opinion.”

  Melanie snapped her fingers at a passing waitress and ordered two coffees. “And make it fast. I'm tired of waiting around.”

  The waitress, chubby and fortyish, gave Fonnie the impression that she seldom did anything fast. She pushed back her glasses, took her time writing down the order, then asked, “Anything else.”

  Melanie shook her head and waved the waitress off. “And Brian was just as upset as I was when I told him about it.”

  “You talked to Brian?” Fonnie had thought about calling him but didn't know what time he'd get off duty tonight.

  “Sure,” Melanie said. Her eyes and face and voice all softened. “He called me on his way home. Said he missed—but then you're not interested in that. He agreed it was outrageous to waste the taxpayers' money doing useless autopsies.”