Murder and Misdeeds

by Helen Goodman

  Finally it was Fonnie's turn. It didn't take long for her to tell her story to Lieutenant Steinberg. She told him she'd last seen Melanie on Friday evening in the dining room. “She'd come in from a run on the beach and had a cup of coffee with me. We talked some.” Fonnie paused.

  The detective waited, rubbed his mustache, shifted in his chair. Finally Fonnie went on. “I might as well tell you, I got angry with her and left in rather a huff.”

  “Really? So suppose you tell me what you talked about and what made you angry?”

  “We talked about the Buzz Garrison case.” Fonnie propped her right elbow on the desk between them and leaned forward. “You are aware of his suspicious death, aren't you?”

  Steinberg's lips curved slightly upward. “I'm aware of the unexpected death. I wasn't aware that it had become a police case.”

  “Well, maybe it hasn't yet, but it will. Mark my words. The man was poisoned. Why else would they be sending blood and tissue samples to the state medical examiner?”

  “I see. And you think that indicates the ME suspects poisoning?”

  “Definitely. Of course, it could turn out to be food poisoning, something he picked up in Florida. Could even be accidental.” Fonnie leaned back in her chair. “But I have my ideas, and I'm willing to share them with you. I may be of help in the case, if in turn, you'll share what you know with me.”

  This time there was no mistaking the detective's amused smile. “I think I'm beginning to understand what your grandson meant about smooth-talking me.”

  “In that case, I'll forget the smooth-talking and get right to the point. I think Melanie's disappearance is connected to Buzz's death. She kept saying she thought his death was simply a heart attack. But what if she found out something that belied that conviction? Maybe she remembered some symptom, a suspicious action on someone's part; maybe Buzz said something in the ambulance. Melanie may have learned something that was dangerous to the killer—so she had to be removed too. Is that pretty much in line with your thinking?”

  Steinberg's smile died on his lips. “Mrs. Beachum, let's get back to me asking the questions and you answering. Suppose first you tell me what Miss Peacock said to you Friday night that made you angry.”

  Fonnie nodded. “Sure. We'll play the game your way. So, to answer your question, Melanie hinted that my new son-in-law, Paul Trent, may have benefited from Buzz Garrison's death.”

  “And how would that be?”

  “By rising in the law firm to a more prominent position. Actually, that's probably true, but her insinuation that Paul may have been responsible for the death was slanderous. And it made me mad.”

  “Yes, I can understand that. Did the conversation end there?”

  “No. Melanie then apologized for upsetting me and said she'd only been joking. But I got to thinking later on. What if she had joked with someone else about poisoning Buzz? She may have found out or imagined how a certain person benefited from his death and made a joke about it. But maybe she hit too close to home, and that certain person had to eliminate her also.”

  “So you think Melanie Peacock has been eliminated?”

  “Yes. Don't you?”

  The detective rose to his feet and opened the door. “That'll be all for now, Mrs. Beachum. I'll let you know if you can be of any further help.”

  Fonnie reluctantly left the office, wandered out to the motel verandah, dropped down in a reclining chair. She wanted to join in the search, but her legs remained too wobbly. All the excitement of the past days had gotten to her. Although she'd made great strides in recovering from her stroke, she still had limitations. All she could do right now was rest and pray.

  She could see Keisha and Stephon walking toward the marina. They were in a group getting directions from a uniformed officer. Earlier she had overheard two policemen talking, and they mentioned having a search warrant for all of the motel rooms. Maybe they had one to search the boats, also. Fonnie's brain vacillated between wanting the searchers to find their objective and not wanting them to. If they find something, she reasoned, it will be a dead body. If they don't find Melanie, then there remained the hope, faint as it might be that she was still alive.

  Fonnie thought over the comments she'd overheard in the lobby while waiting to be called in by the detective. The speculations of strangers who had come to help ranged from a sex maniac on the prowl, to a kidnapping for ransom, to a terrorist plot. But Fonnie had no doubt she was right when she insisted Melanie's disappearance was linked to Buzz's death.

  The search went on all day. People straggled in for lunch and for short respites, then moved out again. Fonnie saw Red Cross volunteers distributing sandwiches and cold drinks.

  Occasionally she glimpsed Max Steinberg conferring with his men or with Edgar. As owner of the motel, she realized Edgar must be going through a very difficult time. Could he be held liable for inadequate security if someone had forced his way into Melanie's room?

  Earlier in the day Fonnie had seen Hank, Doris, and Midge in a group following an officer to the northern end of the beach. Clara and Tony ventured off in the opposite direction.

  Jeremiah came in about mid-afternoon. He had nothing to report and nothing to say. He collapsed in a chair next to Fonnie, reached over and squeezed her hand. She understood. There was nothing anybody could say at this point.

  Near dark the search was called off. Edgar had instructed the kitchen crew to set up a free buffet on the verandah. Weary searchers filled Styrofoam plates, downed gallons of coffee, whispered in small groups.

  Keisha and Stephon were among the last of the searchers to return to the motel. They trudged up the steps hand in hand, but there was nothing romantic in their mood. They both looked like they had been through a war. Fonnie hadn't intended to eat, but she knew Keisha had to have some nourishment. “Set yourself down here, child, while I fix us some plates. I was waiting until I had some good company to eat with.”

  Keisha shook her head. “I'm afraid I'm not good company tonight. You go ahead. I'll just have some coffee.”

  “Nonsense. Both you and Stephon look like you're about to drop. Come on, Stephon, help me load up some food.”

  “Sure,” Stephon said, “why not? I ought to be able to take a few more steps.”

  After potato salad, baked beans, and fried chicken they all felt better. Stephon even went back for a piece of apple pie. Fonnie and Keisha declined dessert.

  “You take your time,” Keisha said to Stephon, “I'm going to see Fonnie to her room and then I'm going to pass out.” She bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “See you in the morning.”

  As they passed the desk, Fonnie noticed a Trailways bus pulled up by the door, and the bus driver leaning over the desk.

  “I don't know as I can accommodate all of you,” the desk clerk said. “I'll see what I can do. Some of the ladies may have to double up.”

  “That'll be fine. We were supposed to make it to Wilmington tonight, but we had a little engine trouble on the way. Appreciate you making room for us.”

  Fonnie and Keisha caught the next elevator up. “That bus driver looked whipped,” Fonnie said. “Poor fellow. I hope there are enough rooms for his passengers.”

  “I'm sure there will be. Now don't you start worrying about them, too. I'll stop by and get you for breakfast.”

  Fonnie wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and lapse into Neverland, but she had to do one more thing before calling it a day. She dialed her home phone and spent the next several minutes filling Brian in on the results, or rather the non-results, of the search for Melanie. He knew most of it already since he'd been in contact with the police department here. What Fonnie didn't tell her grandson was what she'd learned about Melanie's reputation. If he found that out it would have to be from some other source. She promised to call him tomorrow night with any further news.

  “I'm starting second shift tomorrow,” Brian said. “Call me about noon if you get a chance. I can keep in touch with their department while
I'm working, so I won't miss anything. And Gram, don't give the police there any grief.”

  Any other time a remark like that would have gotten her dander up, but tonight Fonnie was too tired to respond. She told him goodnight and fell into bed.

  Keisha flopped down on her bed without undressing. She lay there a long time, her mind a whirlwind. She knew Stephon had wanted her to invite him to her room. But she didn't want to. She needed time alone, time to think.

  The ringing phone startled her. Oh, no, she thought, what does Stephon want now? But it wasn't Stephon.

  “Keisha, Doris here. I know it's late but I hope I caught you before you got to bed.”

  “No, I'm not in bed. Can I do something for you?”

  “Yes. I know it's cheeky of me to ask, but I need some help. It probably wouldn't take but a few minutes.”

  “Certainly. What is it?”

  “The desk clerk just called up and asked Midge to remove the rest of her stuff from the room she and Buzz had. He said a busload of tourists just drove up and they need the room. Actually, I thought the clerk had a lot of gall. Edgar had said just to leave Buzz's stuff in there and that he'd take care of it himself. The clerk said he'd checked with Edgar and that the room did have to be vacated. I can't get hold of Edgar now and Midge is upset. Since you're right across the hall, I thought maybe you wouldn't mind going over there and packing up everything. Midge still has the key card and I could bring it up.”

  Keisha hesitated. “Well—sure. I could do that. I'd be glad to do it. And I'll just keep their suitcases in my room until she's ready to go home or whatever.”

  “Oh, thank you. Midge will be so relieved.”

  Keisha got off the bed, went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face. “Will this day never end?”

  In a short while Doris tapped on the door and handed Keisha the key card. “Just inform the desk clerk when you're finished and he can see about getting the room cleaned. Thanks again.” Doris waved a tiny goodbye and disappeared down the hall.

  “Sure,” Keisha said to Doris's back. Leaving the door open, she jammed her own card into her pocket, took the one Doris had given her, and was about to leave the room when the phone rang again. “Now what?”

  She grabbed the phone and tried not to sound unpleasant. “Yes?”

  This time it was Stephon. “No,” she answered after she heard his plea. “You can't come up and I can't come down to your room even if I wanted to. I've got to do a favor for Midge. The desk clerk insists the room Buzz was in be vacated. Since it's right across the hall from me, I'm going to pack his clothes and stuff.” She let out a deep sigh. “And then I'm going to bed. Don't be mad, but I'm bushed. See you in the morning. Night-night.”

  Keisha shut her door tightly, crossed the hall, and opened that door.

  “Jeez,” she said out loud. “What a mess. Midge didn't waste any time straightening up when she packed her own things. She must have left it this way. Or maybe the police left the clutter when they searched the room today.” The closet door stood open. Pants, shirts, jackets hung every which way, some halfway off their hangers, some on the floor. Socks and underwear spilled out of an open dresser drawer. “No wonder Midge didn't want to come back in here.”

  Keisha left the door to the room open a few inches. For some reason she didn't want to be shut up with the belongings of a dead man. She hauled a large suitcase out of the closet and started packing. She emptied all the drawers first, folding shorts and undershirts neatly, placing pairs of socks around the edges. In a smaller bag she placed everything left in the bathroom: shampoo, deodorant, electric razor, toothbrush, nail clippers. Men are so lucky, Keisha thought, they only need the bare essentials to survive.

  She saved the closet for last. She carefully hand-pressed the pants and laid them flat, followed by a half-dozen shirts. Then the thought came to her that she ought to check the pockets. After all, these clothes would probably be donated to some charity and Keisha was sure Midge wouldn't bother to go through them.

  So Keisha took the pants out and dug into each pocket. She found only two movie ticket stubs, a golf tee, a half roll of Tums, and sixty eight cents in change. In one shirt pocket was a gas receipt and in another was a lottery ticket. She dumped everything in with the razor and toothbrush. Then she started with the coats and jackets. Just more of the same—minutiae of daily life.

  She was about to do the final fold of a light rain jacket when her fingers felt an inside zipper. She opened the jacket wide, zipped down the zipper, and explored the recess. Her fingers found a partially folded piece of white paper. The letterhead was visible: Myers, Garrison, and Trent Law Firm. Keisha was about to toss it on top of the razor when she noticed a scribbled note in red ink next to some figures. She read the words, “consulting fees???” It was the question marks that intrigued her.

  She sat down on the side of the bed and spread the paper open. She wasn't sure what she was looking at. An audit? An internal report? It wasn't addressed to anyone nor was it signed. It consisted of various names, perhaps of companies, followed by numbers. Comments and questions scribbled in red spread across the report. It was apparent Buzz, or whoever had wielded the red pen, had jotted down ideas as they came to him in no particular order. Keisha assumed these were items or ideas that puzzled him because of the numerous question marks scattered around. Next to the name, “Klondike Foundation,” was written, “How?” Below this was, “Why??”

  Another entry read “Trentstone ” followed by more question marks. Keisha was sure she'd heard that name before. She turned the name around and around in her head and finally the answer came to her. Stephon had mentioned that Trentstone Estates was a new upscale housing development that Amy was involved in. Had Buzz suspected something crooked about it?

  All of the writing was hurried, hard to read, and many words seemed pure legalese. Keisha was able to make out a word or phrase here and there: evidence, cash deposits, mal-something, could it be malpractice? Was Buzz suspicious of someone's malpractice? Was that someone in the firm, or was it someone in a company they did business with?

  Keisha abruptly dropped the sheet of paper as if it were on fire. “Omigawd! Is this what got Buzz killed? He had something on somebody?” She shoved the paper into her jeans' pocket, slammed the suitcase shut. She gave one last look around to be sure she hadn't missed anything.

  She grabbed the bags, inched open the door, checked the hallway. It looked clear. She scooted out of the room, slammed the door behind her and hurried across the hall. While she was getting her key card out, Keisha thought she heard a noise. A door opening? Footsteps? She looked around wildly. The hall light was dim but all the doors she could see appeared to be tightly closed. She quickly slipped her card in place. The second it took for the green light to pop up seemed like minutes. She jerked her door open and shoved the bags inside. She quickly shut and locked her door, then leaned back against it with a sigh of relief.

  When her breathing returned to normal, she still had to calm the turmoil in her mind. Her first thought was to run next door and show the paper to Fonnie. Her hand was on the door knob when she stopped, stepped back into the room and sank into a chair.

  “But what if it's Paul or Amy that's involved in some illegal scheme?” The sound of her own voice in the empty room made her nervous. She wanted to talk to someone. But whom? She could call Stephon, ask him to come up. But something made her hesitate.

  She began to wonder if what she'd found was really important after all. “It may be nothing. Just some silly scribbling like we all do from time to time. I guess I better sleep on it. Maybe it'll make more sense in the morning.” She stood up. “Right now I've got to get Midge's card back to the desk clerk so they can clean up the room for new occupants.”

  Keisha didn't want to go back out, but knew she had to. She opened the door carefully, scanned up and down the hallway. She hurried to the elevator, pushed the button. She glanced at the floor indicator. The “L” was lit up. Prob
ably being loaded with the new arrivals, she thought. She decided not to wait for it. Instead she dashed to the stairwell, flew down the steps, and gave Buzz's key to the desk clerk. He thanked her profusely, telling her about the many bus passengers that needed rooms. She listened politely and said that she was glad she could help.

  When she got to the elevator, there was a still a crowd of weary travelers lining up to get on. Keisha reluctantly turned back to the stairwell. She opened the door, then hesitated. The stairs were now dark. A bulb must have just burned out, she thought. She almost turned around to ask the clerk to replace it, but he was busy, and she didn't want to wait any longer. She took a deep breath, pulled up some reserve energy, and bounded up the stairs into the darkness. The door slammed shut behind her.

  She was making the turn to the second floor when an arm across her chest stopped her sprint, and a hand across her mouth stifled her scream.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fonnie woke up Monday morning feeling a little more upbeat even though probably nothing had actually changed. Melanie was still missing. Buzz's death was still unexplained. The entire wedding party was under a cloud of uncertainty and possibly suspicion. But the sun was shining, the police were on the job, and she felt that progress was being made.

  She reached for the phone. Last night Keisha said she'd stop by and get her on the way down to breakfast, but it was getting late and Fonnie was hungry. The phone rang several times before asking her to leave a message. “Keisha,” Fonnie said, “I guess you're in the shower. I'm going to go ahead to the dining room. Come when you get ready.”

  As Fonnie headed for the dining room, she noticed the bus passengers who had checked in last evening were already on their way out. They seemed eager to assume their planned itinerary.