“William Piedmont admitted he and Rhys-Morton cooked up a scheme to try and drive your client out of her house so they could sell it and split the profits. He said his late father had left all his money to Mrs. Piedmont and that she, in his words, ‘insisted on throwing it away.’ He was afraid that by the time she died, there wouldn’t be anything left for him.”
Jonelle felt her blood pressure rising. “And you can’t do anything about that? Can’t you charge him with something?”
Detective North rubbed his hands over his face. “I understand how you feel. But unless she presses charges, there’s nothing we can do about him. We’ve got our hands full with Rhys-Morton’s murder.”
“Where is Sally now? I need to talk to her.”
“She’s home. Her son retained a lawyer and posted bail. Sorry about having to tell you all this, but the evidence points to her as the only culprit in the death. They haven’t made rat poison with arsenic for a very long time. Piedmont said they used the poison because of a problem with rodents in the attic.” The detective paused. “You should also know that she occasionally refers to Mr. Rhys-Morton as ‘Percy.’ Piedmont thinks his mother has confused the two men in her mind.”
“Thanks to him and Hugh,” Jonelle retorted. “Of course she was confused.”
North paused. “There’s something else. We also interviewed her neighbor Irene Bell. She said Mrs. Piedmont sometimes came to her house looking for items she thought she lost.”
“Like what?”
“Small things. A favorite handbag, an umbrella,” he smiled sadly, “a coffee pot. Mrs. Bell would go next door and find the missing items in odd places like the handbag in the oven and the umbrella next to the plates in the cupboard.” The detective rubbed his eyes. “Once, Mrs. Bell caught Mrs. Piedmont walking down the middle of the street, suitcase in hand. Mrs. Bell rushed to your client’s side and asked where she was going. She said she needed to go home to see her daddy so they could go find her puppy.”
Jonelle’s eyes watered. “Oh, damn.”
“I know. Sad isn’t it?”
“What’s going to happen now?” Jonelle reached for a tissue on Burt’s desk and blew her nose.
“Her son has agreed to get her medical attention. We’ve also contacted a social worker to make sure he does.”
Jonelle shook her head. “Can he explain how Hugh wound up in the closet?”
The detective tented his fingers under his chin. “It looks like you were right about him hiding there to confuse her. Piedmont admitted the ruse was for Rhys-Morton to move around her bedroom, after he’d drugged her tea. Don’t think he counted on her turning the tables on him with poison-laced tea. Once he got sick he didn’t have the strength to leave the closet.”
Jonelle picked up Burt’s Elmer Fudd figurine and twisted it in her hand. “You’re one hundred percent sure the poison was in the tea?”
The detective nodded. Jonelle thought back to Irene’s comment about Sally not wanting to share her tea time.
North peered at her face. “You feeling okay? The way you look, a strong wind could blow you over.”
“Tell me,” Jonelle said to North, “did anyone happen to find a recording of harp music?”
CHAPTER 42
Jonelle spent the weekend resting and doing mundane chores to get her mind off her two cases. The housework helped somewhat, but she couldn’t shake the sick feeling in her stomach when thinking about Sally. When she told Adrienne Sally was charged in Hugh’s death, her friend refused to believe it. “Not that sweet little old lady,” she’d said, over and over.
Early Monday morning, Jonelle stopped at the carryout for a bagel breakfast sandwich. She let herself into the agency at seven am and stood for a moment in the reception area. The quiet hum of the air conditioning system soothed Jonelle’s nerves… a little. She was still depressed about Sally’s predicament. On the one hand, the need for someone to talk to about everything gnawed at her, but on the other, she needed to divorce herself from feeling too connected to her elderly client. Rainey was right. An agent shouldn’t get too close. She expelled a frustrated sigh and ambled down the hall to her office.
Jonelle sat at her desk and typed up the final reports on both cases. The push of a button sent them to Rainey’s computer with instructions to render a final bill to Marcella Abbott and in Sally’s case, the bill should be sent to William Piedmont. Jonelle indicated William’s address on the form.
She heard the sound of the front door closing. Jonelle glanced at her clock. “Rainey,” she called out. “Is that you?”
Rainey answered by appearing at Jonelle’s office door. “What’re you doing here so early?” Rainey asked, takeout bag in her hand. “Not that I mind your presence,” she added. “Things are quieter around here until Tweedledum and Tweedledee arrive. And I don’t mean your uncle.” Jonelle joined in her laughter. Rainey always made her feel better.
“I just wanted to give you a heads up. I sent the final results on both my cases to your computer. I’m just sitting here having my own private pity-party. I’m kinda bummed that Sally’s implicated in Hugh’s death. I hope the lawyer her son retained can use something like diminished capacity to help her case.”
Rainey inclined her head. “Grab your coffee and come out front and talk to me until the guys get in.”
“The thing is,” Jonelle said, sitting in the chair opposite Rainey, “I think this whole thing with Hugh started with he moved in across the street and the two became friends over tea. He looked like her late husband Percy. Her son believes Sally blamed Percy for her daughter Vera’s suicide.”
The two women sipped their coffee. “So, she killed the neighbor because she thought he looked like her husband?”
“Not just ‘looked like.’ She thought he was Percy.”
“Does she have dementia?”
Jonelle sipped more coffee. “Could be,” she said. “The thing is William and Hugh tried to push her over the edge, by hiding her jewelry and moving stuff around. Plus, I think one of them was hiding in the attic when Adrienne and I were there. I’m convinced whoever was up there put on that damn record to scare us and I intend to tell the court all that when I’m asked to testify.”
“You think you will?” Rainey asked.
“If neither side calls me, I’m gonna volunteer… or however that works. I want to make sure everyone knows about the strange goings on in that house.”
“Are the police charging the son with anything?” Rainey asked around a bite of breakfast burrito. “Sounds to me like he started this whole thing.”
Jonelle tapped her finger on Rainey’s desk. “Exactly. They’re looking at some form of elder abuse, but the detective assigned to her case isn’t so sure the DA can make it stick. According to the next door neighbor, Sally started acting a little strangely last year. She said she mentioned this to William about six months ago and she’ll testify that she thinks William used it to try to drive Sally into selling her home.
“William claims he never meant for the deception to go this far, and he’s got his mom a good lawyer. He says he’ll pay whatever she owes us for handling her case.”
Silence ensued as both women finished their breakfast. “One other thing,” Jonelle said. “Sally didn’t tell Hugh she’d be at her neighbor’s house and that I would be there instead. She probably showed him where she kept the key to the closet. He unlocked it at some point, and put the key back. Most likely when she went to Irene’s the first time. Not to speak ill of the dead, but the old fart got trapped in there, waiting to do his Percy impression, when the poison kicked in.”
Rainey’s eyes smiled over the top of her coffee mug. “Boy, am I glad you’re on our side.”
Rainey finished the last of her coffee and stood. “Gotta go rinse this out. Cover the phone for me in case Marvin calls.” Jonelle nodded her assent.
Alone in the reception area, Jonelle tried to dissect her feelings. According to the police, Hugh would’ve died whether or not Jonelle han
dled Sally’s case. Jonelle reasoned she felt bad because she violated the “don’t get involved with the client” rule. If what she felt in the pit of her stomach at Sally’s predicament was going to be the end result of all her cases, Jonelle wasn’t sure she was cut out for this business.
“Any calls?” Rainey asked, placing her mug on the corner of her desk.
Jonelle shook her head.
“Snap out of it Jonnie,” Rainey said. “If you don’t, I’m gonna insist Marvin keep your office in that closet you’re in now, so we won’t have to see your grumpy face.”
“How does a person keep from getting involved? I mean, do you know how long it took Ben and Omar to disconnect from their clients?”
The agency phone rang. Rainey held up a finger and answered the call. After a quick, “I’ll have him get back to you as soon as he gets in,” and rapid writing on a message pad, Rainey turned back to Jonelle.
“First off, I think Ben only cares about Ben, so there’s nothing to disconnect from. Omar is almost as bad but in a different way. They see what they do as just a job… no more, no less. And don’t let Marvin fool you. When I came here twenty years ago, it was just him and he was going crazy trying to keep up with all the work. I remember this one case where a single mother wanted him to find her third child’s ‘baby daddy’, and when Marvin found out she was scrimping on food to be able to pay him, he waived the rest of her fee and helped buy groceries for her kids.”
Jonelle stared at Rainey. “I didn’t know that.”
“And he’ll never admit it either,” Rainey said. “You’re a lot like him. You two do what you do because you care. That’s not so bad as long as you know when to stop.” Rainey’s eyes brightened. “Say, I’ve got an idea. My youngest babysits for a lady whose dog just had puppies. How about I tell her you’re interested in one of them?”
Jonelle bolted up from the chair. “A dog? Are you kidding? It’s all I can do to make sure my fish get fed. Thanks anyway, Rainey. I’m feeling better already.”
The sound of Rainey’s laughter followed Jonelle down the hall. As she entered the tiny office, her cell phone rang. She picked it up and looked at the display. On the other end was Burt and he told her LucieBlu wanted to meet her.
CHAPTER 43
Heavy traffic slowed Jonelle’s drive to the hospital and gave her time to think of what she would say to LucieBlu. Although she felt she knew the woman, those impressions were only through other people’s eyes. Jonelle would have preferred waiting until LucieBlu was released from the hospital, but Marcella had said the doctors wanted to keep her an extra day for observation. The medications she took to aid in her transformation had to stop until her body healed.
Jonelle pulled into the covered lot across from the hospital. She took a ticket and drove around until she found a spot near the top and parked. Burt had already said he would not be there and on a Monday morning, Marcella had to work.
The last time Jonelle visited the hospital, LucieBlu was in intensive care. Jonelle checked at the desk. LucieBlu had a semi-private room. Armed with a bright arrangement of yellow, white and pink daisies, mums and roses, in a cream-colored ceramic vase, Jonelle entered the elevator. She exited on the fourth floor and followed the signs to room 435. The door stood open. The first bed held a young woman whose family sat around her, worried expressions on their faces. Jonelle nodded and approached the pale blue curtain drawn around the other bed.
“Excuse me,” she said to the drape. “It’s Jonelle Sweet. Is it okay if I come in?”
“Of course.”
Jonelle peered inside. “These are for you,” she said. “Where shall I put them?”
“Thanks.” LucieBlu indicated the stand next to the bed where several other bouquets were on display.
“Guess I look a little different from the first time you saw me,” LucieBlu said. The words tumbled together as she spoke.
Jonelle recalled LucieBlu had sustained several blows to the face, resulting in a fractured jaw. She smiled down at the figure on the bed. “You look much better,” she said, touching her own face. “Hurt much?”
“A little. Will need some plastic surgery. Asked for Angelina Jolie’s mouth and Halle Berry’s nose.” The names sounded like “Aagee Jole” and “Hal Bury” but Jonelle got the gist.
“You’ll be glad to know Peter Dell’s face isn’t as handsome as it used to be either.”
LucieBlu gave a thumbs up. She grabbed the notebook and pencil on the nightstand next to the bed. She scribbled several words and handed the pad to Jonelle who read out loud.
“‘What will happen to him?’ Not sure about what’ll happen legally, but I’m guessing he’ll be charged with multiple accounts of attempted murder. As for his so-called reputation, I discovered his little secret by putting two and two together and I’ve already told Sherman who will probably spread the word. I’m curious as to how you found out.”
LucieBlu blushed. What she wrote on the pad made Jonelle smile. “Let me see if I read this right. You suspected right from the beginning. One day you guys were horsing around and you grabbed him, uh, down there and felt nothing.” LucieBlu nodded. Two beats later, laughter erupted from both women.
“‘I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t searched for me. Marcie,’” Jonelle looked at LucieBlu, “you mean Marcella?” Another thumbs up. “‘Marcie told me you didn’t give up,’” Jonelle continued. “‘She said she knew you’d find me.’” Jonelle stopped reading. A lotta luck helped on that last part.
“Did anyone tell you about the homeless man?”
LucieBlu nodded and indicated she wanted the paper and Jonelle returned the pad. After writing on two pages, LucieBlu handed the paper to Jonelle.
“‘I was scared at first,’” Jonelle read. “‘It smelled just awful in there, and it was so dark. But then he took some water and started washing the blood off and I knew he was trying to help. That man has the softest touch I’ve ever felt. So kind. Do you know how to find him? I need to tell him thanks. He saved my life.’”
Jonelle looked up. “I think Luther knows you’re grateful. I also believe that if anyone goes searching for him, he’ll be sure and stay out of sight. That’s just how he is. If say, you were to give him a little token, nothing of any monetary value, that he can look at and remember you by, I think that would be best. I certainly would do all I can to find him and deliver it to him.”
LucieBlu frowned. “Like what?”
“I’ve thought about that,” Jonelle answered. She took her phone out of her purse. “How about a picture? I’ll send it to myself and print it out for him. Is that all right?”
She answered Jonelle by bringing her hands up to her face. She shook her head. “I look awful,” she said.
Jonelle disagreed. “No, you don’t. Besides, even though I don’t know him all that well, I have a feeling Luther doesn’t care about what a person looks like on the outside. What do you say?”
As much of a grin that she could muster spread over LucieBlu’s face. She gave two thumbs up.
The End
To the memory of
My mother, Lola
And
My sister, Tracy
Thank you to all my Dreamweavers INK critique group friends. You kept me focused on the story. A special thank you to Karen Esibill, who left us far too soon. I know Karen is telling the Angels to watch those adverbs.
About the Author
R. Lanier Clemons was born in Vermillion Parish, Louisiana and was employed as a corporate journalist for several years. She lives in Maryland with good friends Lucy the cat and Ramsey the horse.
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Gone Missing: A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 2 Page 24