Murder and Misdeeds

by Helen Goodman

  “The answer to the first three questions,” Brian said, “is 'I don't know' but I do know she isn't a blackmailer.”

  Steinberg pushed the front door open, made for his car. “I'll be at the hospital later. Maybe Miss Riggs will be able to give us the answers herself.”

  Chapter Twenty One

  When Brian finished giving Steinberg's report to the four at the hospital, Fonnie was the first to respond. “I knew it. I knew there was a connection between Buzz's death and the disappearances.”

  “But we still don't know why,” Jeremiah said, “or who.”

  “What's this about Florida?” Tyrone asked. “You didn't tell me that part of it, Brian.”

  “All I know is that Buzz complained of being sick before he got to the wedding, so it must have started when they were in Miami.”

  Fonnie noticed that Stephon had listened to Brian's account without comment. Maybe it's time he did make a comment, she thought. He must have an opinion about the poisoning. “Suppose you tell us what you think, Stephon,” Fonnie said. “You were in Miami when Buzz first got sick.”

  Brian whirled around, stared at Stephon. “You were in Miami? With Buzz? With Melanie? Why didn't I know this?”

  Stephon backed further into the corner of his chair. “I was just there to see a Miami Heat game. And I thought I'd look in on Buzz and Hank. I'd played golf with them at home. Melanie happened to be there that same night. That's all.”

  “And Buzz was sick then?” Brian said.

  “We all went out to dinner and Buzz was fine. The next day when I stopped by before heading home, he was a little under the weather. I didn't think anything about it.”

  “Never mind that,” Jeremiah said. “Let's get back to the matter at hand. Brian, did you say Steinberg was planning on trying to get more information from Keisha?”

  Brian nodded. “How is she doing now, Gram? More aware of things?”

  “Much more, now that they've been able to ease up on her pain medication. She's more comfortable and is able to take sips of water. The doctor doesn't want her to try to talk yet. Tyrone did have a scary moment with her this morning, though.”

  “What happened?”

  Tyrone told him of Keisha's apparent flashback and of her fighting against him. “I don't know what set her off.”

  “Try to remember exactly what you did,” Brian said. “Did you make some sudden movement? Something that she could have interpreted as being a threat?”

  “Nothing I can think of. I was talking to her, then I leaned forward, and I think my hand may have rubbed her arm. That's when she went berserk and the nurse came over and sent me out. It was terrible.”

  “But she's all right now,” Fonnie said. “Tyrone and I went in together about an hour ago. She was sitting up. She knew us right away and even motioned Tyrone to come close and she kissed him on the cheek.”

  “I asked her if she remembered me coming in earlier and she shook her head no. But then she rubbed her neck as if it still hurt to move. One of the nurses brought her a pencil and a clip board with paper and suggested she write her answers to us.”

  “Great idea,” Brian said. “Was she able to do that? Did you ask her anything else?”

  “I didn't want to upset her so I kept my questions light. Like, what was the first thing she wanted to eat when she was able? She quickly wrote ice cream, just as I expected. Then she added strawberry. That's always been her favorite.”

  “Then she had a question of her own,” Fonnie said. “She wrote in capital letters STEPHON? So we assured her that he had been here all the time and would be able to see her soon.”

  Brian gave Stephon a quick smile then turned back to Tyrone. “But you didn't ask what she remembered about her attack or attacker?

  Tyrone shook his head. “I thought that ought to be left up to the police. Fonnie did ask her if she liked my piano playing.” He grinned at Fonnie. “I guess that was her way of finding out if Keisha remembered anything about her rescue last night.”

  “And?”

  “She wrote adagio.”

  Brian frowned. “What does that mean? I never studied music.”

  “Adagio is a slow tempo,” Tyrone said. “She thought my playing was too slow. And it was. I didn't feel like playing anything lively. But the important thing is she remembered it, so chances are, she remembers other things also. She may have a lot to tell the police when they get here.”

  “Good,” Brian said. “I'm going to call Steinberg right now. Hopefully he can get here soon.”

  Lieutenant Steinberg arrived a few minutes later. He conferred with the nurse on duty before coming over to the waiting group. “The nurse says it will be all right for me to question Miss Riggs now. I'm taking the officer on duty here in with me as a witness and I would also like Mrs. Beachum to accompany us.”

  “Me?” Fonnie was both surprised and flattered. “Sure. Be glad to do anything I can to help.” She pushed forward in her chair and made an ineffectual attempt to stand. “Help me up, Tyrone, please. I've been sitting here so long I've gotten stiff.”

  Tyrone hurried to her side. “I'm always enraptured to facilitate your mobility.”

  Fonnie laughed. “Cut the big words and just pull me up.”

  “At your service, Madame.” He reached down, encircled both her wrists with his hands and hauled her to her feet.

  “Thanks, but you need some lotion on those rough hands of yours.” Fonnie reached into her purse and handed him a tube of hand cream. “Try this. It'll make your hands as smooth as a magnolia blossom.”

  “I'll try anything, but hard work is bound to show through.”

  Fonnie smiled up at the detective. “Ready when you are.”

  Lieutenant Steinberg stepped back and motioned Fonnie to go ahead. The nurse met them at the door. “She's doing really well now, but try not to tire her.”

  “We won't stay long,” Steinberg assured her.

  When they approached the bed, Keisha smiled at Fonnie and waved her fingers in greeting. She gave the two men a cautious look. “This is Lieutenant Steinberg,” Fonnie said. “He was here earlier. Remember?”

  Keisha tipped her head slightly. Fonnie went on, “He wants to ask you some questions. It's very important. You can write your answers on the paper like you did to Tyrone and me. Okay?” Again Keisha nodded.

  Lieutenant Steinberg slid a chair close to the bed and sat down. He motioned for the officer to pull up another chair. “Miss Riggs, we are going to be taking a formal statement from you. We will be recording my questions to you, and Sergeant Hayes here will be a witness to what you write on your tablet and will read it aloud. Do you understand?”

  Keisha reached for her clipboard and wrote Yes.

  “Good. Mrs. Beachum will be sitting on the other side of the bed to be sure we don't stay too long. First, I want to go over some facts with you.” Steinberg shifted to a more comfortable position. “Did you know Melanie Peacock was found dead in the same room where you were held?”

  Yes. I found her. I knew she was dead.

  As Keisha finished writing each answer, Sergeant Hayes read it aloud so it could be audibly recorded.

  Steinberg went on, “She was strangled just as you were strangled. You apparently put up more of a fight than she did and that's saved your life. Do you remember your attack?”

  Yes. He grabbed me from behind. Covered my mouth. Choked me. I kicked at him. Tried to get away.

  “Are you sure it was a man?”

  Keisha thought a moment, nodded. Tall. Strong. Must have been man.

  “Did he have any kind of odor? Aftershave or anything?”

  Not that I remember.

  “Do you think you kicked him hard enough to leave a bruise?”

  Probably not. Wearing sneakers.

  “Where did the attack happen?”

  In the stairwell. It was dark.

  “Did you see him at all?”

  No.

  “Did he say anything?”

 
No.

  “Do you know why he tried to kill you?”

  Keisha hesitated then wrote slowly. The paper.

  “What paper?”

  Paper from Buzz's pocket. I took it. Put in my pocket. It's gone.

  “What was on the paper?”

  Names. Questions. Didn't understand it.

  “But you thought it might be important and you took it. What did you plan to do with it?

  Don't know. Maybe show it to Fonnie. Keisha looked over to Fonnie, then wrote, I was worried about Amy.

  When Sergeant Hayes repeated the answer, Fonnie leaned over the bed. “Why were you worried about her?”

  Keisha's face crinkled up. Tears formed in her eyes. The paper. It may involve Amy.

  Steinberg held up his hand to ward off Fonnie's next comment. “Later I want you to try to duplicate what was on the paper. Can you do that?”

  Yes.

  “Right now let's get back to the attack. Do you remember anything that might help identify who he was?”

  No. Then she quickly added, Do you know anything?

  “Afraid not. He wore gloves. No identifiable prints on the trap door or anywhere in the basement room except for Tyrone's and for yours. We got both yours and your brother's prints while you were in the emergency room. We needed them for comparison. We found your prints all over the walls.”

  Keisha's eyes half closed and Fonnie wondered if she was trying to block out the memory of her imprisonment. In a few moments, she looked up and wrote, I was looking for a door—a way out.

  “I see,” Steinberg said. “Unfortunately there was only the trap door above your head.”

  Who would know about the trap door?

  “Anybody who ever visited the town. The chapel and its hurricane room are described in a Chamber of Commerce pamphlet that is placed in every motel room and public building. You must have one in your room.”

  I didn't read it.

  “About your room. We found a portion of a broken glass there. Where did you get it and why did you keep it?

  Keisha lay back on her pillow and seemed in deep thought. She sat up and started writing, I don't remem She sat up straighter, crossed off what she had written and started over. At reception. It was Buzz's glass that he broke. Janitor missed a piece and I picked it up to throw it away.

  “Why didn't you?”

  I guess I forgot to.

  “You weren't suspicious of it and kept it to show to the police?”

  No. Why would I?

  “Because it had a residue of a drug in it–the same drug that killed Buzz.”

  Keisha dropped her pencil and stared at the detective in wide-eyed amazement. She gave a gasp, groped her bed linen for the pencil, and wrote hurriedly. Buzz really was poisoned?

  “Yes. In his drink.”

  What kind of poison?

  “Not a poison as such. An easily obtainable medication. He was given an overdose of a blood pressure medicine—Clonidine. Apparently the tablets were crushed and the powder dissolved in his drink.”

  Keisha laid the pencil down again and rubbed her chin and lips. Fonnie recognized this mannerism that Keisha often displayed when she was trying to remember something. Apparently it worked. She grabbed the pencil and starting scribbling. Melanie had powder in her ring!

  As Sergeant Hayes read the sentence out loud, Steinberg shook his head. “What ring?”

  Fonnie answered the question before Keisha had a chance. “Melanie's sterling silver ring that was supposed to hold lip gloss. That's the one you mean, Keisha?”

  Keisha nodded slowly.

  “Oh Lordy,” Steinberg said. “And I just released the body and her personal effects. Excuse me, Miss Riggs, but I've got to stop them. Thanks for your help. Please sign these papers and give them to the officer. I'll get back to you later.”

  Lieutenant Steinberg was issuing orders into his phone as he ran out. Sergeant Hayes watched Keisha sign her name, collected the papers, and resumed his post at the door.

  “Well,” Fonnie said. “What do you know about that?”

  Keisha started a fresh sheet of paper. Could the drug have been in Melanie's ring?

  “Sounds awfully far fetched. I don't know what to make of it. Guess we'll just have to wait and see what they find.” Fonnie looked at Keisha with concern. “You need to rest now. Try to put everything out of your mind and just rest. I'll send Tyrone in later.”

  Keisha held up her hand for Fonnie to wait and reached for the clipboard again. Tell Stephon 'Hey' for me.

  “I'll do that. Now rest. That's an order.”

  Keisha laid her head back, closed her eyes, but her mind couldn't rest. She kept going over the detective's questions. One particular question stuck in her head, the one about anything she knew that might help to identify her attacker. There seemed to be a teasing voice telling her there was something she needed to remember. But what was it? She believed she had told the detective everything she could recall. Still there was something—something important. Would she remember it before it was too late?

  Keisha couldn't even specify what she meant by too late, but she was afraid that if she didn't remember, something else dreadful might happen.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  When Fonnie came out of ICU, she was surprised to see Stephon sitting alone in the waiting room. “What happened to your cohorts?”

  “They went to the cafeteria. Jeremiah was determined that Tyrone eat something. This waiting is really getting him down.”

  “Looks like it's getting to you too,” Fonnie said. “You didn't want to eat?”

  “Not now. Not until I know Keisha will recover.” He stared at Fonnie with eyes bleary with lack of sleep and worry. “How is she? What went on in there, and why did Steinberg bolt out like he did?”

  Fonnie hesitated before answering. She hadn't been told to keep any information confidential, and she would have blurted out everything to Brian and Tyrone, but Stephon was a different matter. She was puzzled by her reservation, and so she did what she had always done in such situations, she went with her gut feeling. “Keisha's making progress,” she told him, “but she still is not remembering much. The attack and subsequent events seem to be a blur in her mind. And since she can't talk yet, there's little to be learned.”

  Fonnie watched Stephon's reaction to her report. Was it her imagination, or did he appear to be relieved? He leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling for a few moments. Then he sat straight up again. “But Steinberg—what made him dash out?”

  The lie formed quickly on Fonnie's lips, “Oh, he got a call about another case. That's all.”

  Before Stephon could say anything else, Clara and Lula entered the waiting room. “We've come to take you out for some fresh air,” Clara said to Fonnie. “And some decent food.”

  “That's right,” Lula said. “No hospital or motel fare. We're heading for Seafood Heaven, the best crab, the best shrimp, the best everything within fifty miles.”

  Fonnie gazed at Lula and then glanced at her watch. It was almost five-thirty and Lula still seemed stone sober. It was a pleasant surprise for Fonnie, and she hoped that Seafood Heaven didn't have a liquor license.

  “But I can't leave right now,” Fonnie said. “I have to wait until Brian and the others get back.”

  Stephon smiled at her. “No, you don't. I'll tell them where you've gone. You need to take a break.”

  “All right,” Fonnie said as she shoved herself out of her seat. “And you two can catch me up on what's going on in the outside world.”

  They took the elevator down and were nearly out the door when Fonnie pulled back. “My sweater. I left my sweater in the waiting room. I'd better go back and get it. It gets cool as soon as the sun goes down.”

  “I'll go with you,” Lula said, “while Clara brings the car around.”

  They entered the waiting room and Fonnie went over to the seats where she and Stephon had been sitting a few minutes earlier. Her sweater was there. Stephon was not. She
looked around and was startled to see him entering the ICU door. She grabbed her sweater, slung it over her purse, and hurried across the room as fast as she could.

  Lula rushed to her side. “What's going on?”

  “That's what I want to know.” Fonnie shoved against the door.

  A nurse she hadn't seen before stopped her entry. “May I help you?” the nurse asked.

  “Where's the man who just came in? He's not supposed to be here.”

  “Mr. Riggs? He's visiting his sister. I just showed him in.”

  “That's not Mr. Riggs. Keisha's not his sister. He has no right here.” Fonnie pushed past the nurse, darted to Keisha's cubicle. The nurse was right behind her. Lula was right behind the nurse.

  Fonnie saw Stephon leaning over Keisha, his hands on her face. Keisha's eyes were wide open, her lips curved upward.

  When Fonnie reached the bed, she raised her right arm and flung her purse and sweater into Stephon's face.

  He reeled back. “What the hell?” He stared wildly at the determined old woman across the bed. “Are you crazy?”

  “Not half as crazy as you are if you think I'm going to let you hurt Keisha any more.” She turned to the nurse. “Get him out of here. Now!”

  The nurse took him by the arm. “I'm sorry, Mr. Riggs. You'd better leave until we can get this sorted out.”

  Lula stepped forward. “That man's name is Stephon Weber, not Riggs. Why did you let him in? And where's the cop that's supposed to be guarding Keisha?”

  Stephon shook the nurses' hand off his arm. “I just wanted to see her. I wanted to tell her I loved her. I wasn't going to hurt her, for God's sake.” He stalked out of the room. The ICU door slammed behind him.

  Fonnie was doing her best to explain to Keisha what had happened. “Don't worry about it. It's only that Stephon didn't have permission to come in. We'll get it straightened out.” Keisha gave her a puzzled look, lay back, and shut her eyes.

  Fonnie came up to the nurse at the same time Sergeant Hayes reappeared. “Where in the blazes have you been?” Fonnie demanded.