by Marja McGraw
I went through the pictures a third time. “There’s something missing.”
Pete turned to look at me. “Yeah. He didn’t take any during the fire.”
“Maybe he didn’t think we’d want those. I’ll call him back and ask about them.”
I picked up the phone and dialed Jolly’s studio again.
Tiffany answered.
“Don’t hang up! This is Sandi Webster and I need to talk to Jolly.”
She sighed loud enough to be heard in Arizona, letting me know that she was annoyed. Turning from the phone without a word, she yelled, “Uncle Jolly, pick up the phone. It’s that woman again.” I heard a clunk as she slammed the phone down.
“Ms. Webster? What can I do for you?”
“Please, call me Sandi. Jolly, did you take any photos during the fire, out in the front yard?”
“I’m sure I did. Weren’t those in with the pictures I gave Felicity?”
“No. Could you check for me? I’d like to see those. They could be important.”
“Let me take a look and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks. And Jolly, sooner is better, please.”
“Did he take any?” Felicity asked when I hung up.
“He thinks he did. He thought they were in with the package he gave you.”
“Well, they weren’t. I’m anxious to see what they look like, from the point of view that the scarecrow was on fire. They could be pretty interesting. And I know you’re hoping to see who was outside during the fire.”
“It’s important,” Pete said, as if we didn’t realize just how important it was.
“Okay, here’s what we’ve got.” I glanced at everyone while speaking.
Pete sat straighter in his chair, not sure of where I was going.
“Pamela had blood on her costume, and some of it was on her back where she could have reached, but it would have taken an effort. And the blood on her back was Purity’s.”
“Really? Uh oh.” This was the first Felicity had heard about the blood issue.
“I don’t believe Pamela did the deed, but that’s just my opinion. Anyone could have touched her back.
“Anyway, several other people had blood on their clothing from contact with Pamela. And as I recall, that painter, Jason Redman, actually had blood on his hand, or maybe it was his wrist.
“We found Mavis hovering over Purity’s body with her hand on the knife. I don’t think she did it either though.”
Stanley held up his hand. “Don’t forget the Bogey Man was in the vicinity of the crime.”
“I haven’t forgotten that, Stan. Yes, Chris was there, too.” I picked up a pencil and began taking notes.
Pete sat forward in his chair. “And I still think the fire was to lure us out of the house while the murder took place.”
“I agree,” I said. “Now, who had the best motive?”
“Everyone.” Felicity looked disgusted. “She annoyed everyone who came in contact with her. I guess ‘annoyed’ isn’t a strong enough word, but you know what I mean.”
I nodded. “Mavis is annoying, but Purity seemed just plain nasty. I only saw and heard her for a total of about five minutes, and that was plenty. She was practically begging for someone to pop her one.”
Stanley nodded. “But who was angry enough to go beyond popping?”
“Felicity, you’re the only one who might be able to answer that question.” Pete leaned back and waited while Felicity appeared to be thinking it over.
Chapter Sixteen
Felicity nodded. “Of course, the first person who comes to mind is Joshua King. He had more to lose than anyone.”
“But doesn’t that seem too obvious? It doesn’t make sense to me that he’d wait and murder her at a party, even if he planned ahead.” I recalled how he’d been paying so much attention to Pamela. He hadn’t appeared as though his mind was on murder. “Besides, how would he have known Purity was going to show up? It seemed like she surprised everyone when she arrived.”
Pete sat back in his chair again. “It didn’t strike me as a premeditated killing. I believe someone took advantage of the moment. Also, she left the party, so why did she come back? How did she end up in the Spook Room?”
I shrugged. “Good point. Why did she come back? That’s one of the things we’re going to have to figure out.”
Felicity glanced at her watch and turned to Stanley. “Sorry, but I’ve got to leave for an appointment. Honey Bun, would you walk me out?”
Stanley stood up and joined Felicity.
“Honey Bun?” Pete knew he’d get a lot of mileage out of that one. He’d tease Stanley mercilessly, if I knew Pete.
“Jealous?” Stanley wasn’t going to give him room to tease.
The door closed behind them and the phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” I said, reaching for the receiver. “Webster and Goldberg. May I help you?”
“Sandi, this is your mother.”
“Oh, hi Mom.” Like I didn’t recognize her voice.
Pete turned away.
“We need to talk.”
Uh oh. My mother had something on her mind. She needed to talk, which meant I was supposed to sit and listen.
The door to the office opened and Sharon Stone walked in, zeroing in on me and my desk. She pulled a chair over and sat down.
My mother, the poster child for menopause. And Sharon Stone, a real pain-in-the-neck reporter. What had I done to deserve this? I glanced up at the ceiling.
“Sandi, I’ve been thinking about that Bogey person who’s been following you. Did you try my idea? Did he realize that a detective’s work isn’t all fun and games?”
“I’ve started the campaign, and it hasn’t worked yet. But then, I’m not through with him.”
Sharon watched me while I talked, looking as though she wanted to ask questions.
I put my hand over the mouthpiece. “Sharon, I’m talking to my mother. Why don’t you go bother Pete while I talk?”
Pete began writing furiously, trying to ignore us. I wasn’t letting him off that easily. I could only deal with one problem at a time. I flapped my hand in a shooing motion at Sharon and pointing at Pete, turned back to my mother.
“Sandi? Did you hear me?”
“I’m sorry, Mother. Someone was sitting next to my desk. I can talk now.”
“Oh. Well, I asked if you’d been mean enough to this character. Did you try the drink-and-no-place-to-go thing?”
“I did, but it didn’t work.”
“So what’s next? How about telling him you don’t want him hanging around?”
“I tried that. Didn’t work. If I don’t keep him with me, he’ll only start following me again.”
“Isn’t that stalking?” My mother didn’t quite get it.
“No, Mom, he’s not stalking me. He’s just a strange man who wants to be a P.I.”
“Strange man? That doesn’t sound good. What about Pete? Is he helping?”
“Chris isn’t actually strange, Mother. He’s… Persistent. And to be honest, I don’t want Pete’s help. I’m kind of having fun with Chris.”
“Chris? His name is Chris? And you’re having fun with him? Oh, Sandi, I don’t – ”
“It’s okay. You have nothing to worry about. Even Pete has begun to realize this is kind of a, uh, kick. Can you imagine working with someone who looks like Humphrey Bogart playing the part of Sam Spade? I’m having fun. That’s all. But I will continue to discourage him from getting into my line of work. I don’t think he’s cut out for it.”
“Please keep me posted on this. Hold on a second. Frank is trying to say something.”
She turned from the phone and I could hear her husband talking to her, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“Frank says I’m making a big deal out of nothing, that you’d know if there was anything to worry about.”
“He’s right, Mother. I appreciate your concern, but it’s needless. Now, I’d better hang up. I’ve got a client in the of
fice.
“Oh?” I could hear her voice lift. “A client? Well, I’d better go then. I’ll talk to you again soon.”
Now why did that sound like a threat? Only because it came out of my mother’s mouth.
I turned away from the phone. “Sharon? What do you want?”
“I want to know if you’ve found anything out yet. You know, this is a big story. An actress who happened to be attached to a big name movie star is murdered and I was there. This could by my ticket out of doing the dreary little garden show stories.”
“Don’t buy your ticket yet, Sharon. I don’t have anything to tell you. If you’ve been doing your homework, you probably know more than I do.”
“Yeah, right. You’re not going to give an inch, are you?”
“Nope. But I’ll make you the same deal I did last time. If I can solve this case, I’ll give you an exclusive story. If, and I mean this, if you leave me alone to do my work.”
“I’ll keep in touch.” She turned and left the office.
“That was too easy,” Pete said.
“I know. Kinda scary.”
“Okay, now what? You ready to start talking to the people involved in this fiasco?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Why don’t you take half the list and I’ll take the other half.”
“What list?” Pete asked.
Picking up a piece of paper I’d been working on, I tore it in half. “This list. I wrote down the names of everyone we think could be involved. And here’s your half.”
Pete took the paper and after reading the names, he grabbed my half and left his lying on my desk. “I’m not talking to that shrew, Mavis Brewer. Let her threaten to sue you.”
“Chicken.”
Stanley returned sporting a lipstick imprint on the side of his mouth. I handed him a tissue and indicated he needed to wipe. He grinned at me.
“So what are you two up to?” he asked.
“You’re in charge of the office. We’re going to start questioning some of the people who were at the party.”
“Goody.” Every once in a while, Stanley cracked me up. His reply had spoken volumes and I had to smile. He wasn’t impressed with his assignment.
I picked up the phone book and looked up Mavis’s phone number. I might as well get her out of the way first so I could relax. No one else on the list made my stomach tighten like she did.
I dialed her number and she answered promptly. “This is Mavis Brewer.”
“Mavis, this is Sandi Webster. I’d like to make an appointment to come over and talk to you about Purity Patton’s death.”
“Talk to me? Ha! I asked your agency to work for me, and I was turned down flat. Why should I cooperate?”
“Mavis, we can’t work for you because we already have a client. However, your cooperation could very well lead to clearing you of any suspicions. All you have to do is answer some questions.”
“Well, maybe you’re right. Should I call my attorney to sit in on this?”
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I glanced at it and sighed. This woman was a real piece of work.
“I’m not the police,” I said, putting the phone back to my ear. “This isn’t official. I’m a private investigator doing her job. Will you cooperate?”
“I guess so. If you can prove my innocence, then I should probably talk to you. As you may recall, I’m a suspect because my fingerprints are on that knife. It makes me shudder to think about it. Besides, if I’m not your client, I won’t have to pay you for proving I’m innocent.”
Mavis gave me her address and directions, and Pete and I walked out to the parking lot together. Pete made an appointment to talk to Jason Redman. Although the artist seemed like a guy with an attitude, I still thought Pete probably got the better assignment.
“Pete, something I forgot to ask you. Were there any fingerprints on the knife besides Mavis’s?”
“Mavis smeared the prints that were on it. The only prints clear enough to read were hers. Rick figured your prints and Felicity’s would be on it since it was the knife she’d stuck in the skeleton, but they didn’t show up.”
“That woman is a walking disaster. Anyone else would have run from the room screaming. But no, she had to grab the knife. I wonder if she might have done that on purpose.” A few thoughts were beginning to flit through my mind.
“Why would she do that?”
“What if she knew who the killer was? She didn’t do it and she figured she’d be cleared, so maybe she’s protecting someone.”
“Are you kidding? Her style would be to sue the killer for implicating her.”
“Good point.” I paused, still stuck on the point I’d made. “However, I think I’ll look into that.”
“Of course you will. I was only trying to make a joke anyway. And actually, that’s a good idea. But the only one I can think of that she might cover for would be that boyfriend of hers, and he was too busy drinking himself into oblivion in the living room through the whole thing.”
“Blackmail? No, probably not. Why would she want to hire us if she didn’t want the murderer to be caught?”
“Also a good point. So go meet with her and sound her out. In the meantime, I’m leaving to talk to Redman.”
“Yeah, Redman. Don’t forget that he had blood on his hand and the edge of his sleeve after the murder. We need to know where that came from. If he says it was from Pamela, we can check with her to verify it.”
Pete shook his head. “What a mess. There were so many people at the party, and Pamela cut her hand and it seems like she managed to touch everyone around her.”
“Interesting. The police collected clothing from anyone who had blood on them.” I glanced at Pete. “No one else had Purity’s blood on them?”
“No. They all had blood from Pamela the Bleeder.”
“We’ve got to be missing something. After I talk to Mavis I’m going to start one of my lists. Maybe something will come to me.”
“Too many people. Too many things going on at that party. It’s going to be interesting trying to sort this one out.” Pete gave me a quick peck on the cheek and headed for his car.
“Yes, indeed,” I said to myself. “Too many things going on at the party, including a murder.”
Chapter Seventeen
I drove out to Mavis’s place, dreading my meeting with her and expecting more of a confrontation. We’d be at her house, on her turf, not a good thing. I knew in my heart that she’d feel she had the upper hand. If it were me, I’d feel that way, but then I’d begun to learn about all these little nuances. Like turf and timing, and head games.
Pulling into the driveway, I took a deep breath and steeled my resolve, preparing for the meeting. I forced myself to walk to the front door and ring the bell. Listening, I couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the house. I waited a full minute and rang the bell again. Nothing. No noise, no answer. I thought maybe the bell wasn’t working, so I knocked loudly. Still no response.
I’d been stood up. Mavis had blown me off. My lips tightened involuntarily and I banged my fist against the door in frustration. I took a few steps back and studied the house, hoping to see a curtain move. White home with green trim, light green curtains, lots of plants bordering the porch. They weren’t blooming anymore and looked droopy and forlorn. But no movement from within the building. She’d apparently decided not to cooperate.
I turned and headed back to my car. Climbing in, I sat for a moment, contemplating my next move.
“Yoooo hoooo.”
Glancing up, I saw Mavis standing on her front porch waving at me. I sat for a moment, trying to rid myself of the overwhelming frustration this woman brought out in me.
Breathe in, breathe out, I told myself. Don’t let her get to you. That’s what she wants. Could she actually be that devious? Yes. This woman was, I reminded myself, the Lawsuit Queen. She liked playing games.
I climbed back out of the car and headed for the house.
“Sorry, dear, bu
t I was in the backyard.” Mavis ushered me into her living room. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”
I’ll just bet, I thought.
“How did you finally realize I was here?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.
“I didn’t. I was coming in the back door when I heard what sounded like a thud on the door. I came running, thinking it was that nasty little paperboy again. He just loves throwing the paper right at the house. One of these days I’ll have to talk to my lawyer about him.”
Look out, kid.
“Please have a seat, Ms. Webster. Would you care for a cup of coffee?” Mavis indicated an odd little straight-backed chair with a covering and minimal padding.
“No coffee, thank you. Mavis, we need to talk about the night of the party.” Sitting down on the most uncomfortable seat I’d ever encountered, I decided to get right to the issue and not pussyfoot around. “You found the body. You were, in a manner of speaking, the first responder. Tell me what you saw and heard.”
She sat down on the edge of a sofa, gently sliding herself back until she was comfortable. She took her time answering me, crossing her legs and holding one hand in the other on her lap.
“Why, nothing, dear. Except for a dead body. As you might recall, I was searching for an expensive piece of jewelry. I wasn’t paying attention to anything else until I came across poor, dear Purity.”
“Is that the same ‘poor, dear Purity’ that you threatened to sue not long before her death?”
“Oh, my. I didn’t mean that. It was just an empty threat.”
“Uh huh. I could tell by your attitude.”
“Now, look here, Missy! You asked to come over here to talk to me. Why are you being so spiteful?”
Maybe I should change my tactics with this woman. “I’m sorry, Mavis, but it’s been a long day. Can we start over?”
“Certainly.” She smiled, but it was the smile of a winner, not someone whose toes I’d stepped on. Was I gullible or what? What the heck? Why should I change tactics?
“Okay, Mavis. Let’s be honest here. You love to play games, and I don’t. Why don’t we take care of business and then I’ll get out of your hair. Hmm?”
She began to sputter, ready to defend herself, but seemed to think better of it. She’d tried to make me feel uncomfortable, and it had worked, too well. She’d put me on the offensive.