Murder Wins the Game

by Maddie Cochere

  I was wrestling with whether or not to tell Richard about Mama’s eavesdropping, when I saw Kristy’s car pull onto the main road from the long driveway of the mansion. He must have wanted to see her before he talked with me. I couldn’t help wondering if she confessed to her transgressions.

  She flew past me without so much as a glance in my direction. With the top down on her car, she was a blur of red in the driver’s seat with a red scarf on her head, large red sunglasses on her face, and a bright red blouse. She wore red often. It was a good color for her.

  I pulled into the driveway and slowly made my way toward the huge Medieval-style stone house. It was foreboding with its castle-style turrets. I had read the house was built in the early thirties by a man who ran bootleg whiskey. It sat empty for years until Richard Munson bought it for his wife over a decade ago. It was ironic when she left him that she didn’t want the monstrosity of a house. Richard had always hated it and spent most of his time in his condominium in Columbus.

  A sign at a Y-intersection near the house instructed guests to park in back by the garage. A private drive circled to the front of the house, while the main drive continued past. I pulled into one of six parking spaces in a small paved lot next to the garage and was careful to park three spaces away from a silver Jaguar. With the way my day was going, if I parked next to it, I’d end up banging it with the truck door or whapping it with my bag.

  I climbed out of my truck and stood for a few moments to take in the view. A large flower garden was closest to the house, followed by an Olympic-size swimming pool and a pool house. Beyond the pool were two tennis courts. I had never seen a property so beautiful and meticulously kept without it being in a movie or a magazine.

  Another smaller sign at the beginning of a stone path instructed visitors to enter through the door on the portico. I followed the stone path around a turret and was surprised to find a modern porch on the back of the house. There was no way this could be considered a portico. It was as though a veranda, complete with rocking chairs, had been imported from Louisiana and slapped onto the back of the house. Forget the feature spread in Better Homes and Gardens magazine. This was a deal breaker for a house whose architecture was from the Dark Ages.

  I walked up the steps and onto the porch. There wasn’t a doorbell. I knocked as loudly as I thought appropriate, but no one answered. I knocked louder, and louder still, until I was banging on the door. I tried the handle. It was locked.

  It dawned on me that Richard was likely home alone, and he might be in the bathroom. I was five minutes early anyway. Maybe he was one of those people who wouldn’t take a meeting before the scheduled time. I sat in one of the rockers and waited, hoping he would look out to see if I had arrived.

  At the stroke of four, I banged on the door again. My hand was going to be bruised if I kept this up. Guests use the back door or not, I was using the front door.

  I power walked around to the front of the house. Now I was going to be late. In the back of my mind, I hoped he really would fire me.

  The front door was wide open. Kristy was either born in a barn, as Mama would say, and didn’t shut the door when she left, or it was open to allow air into the house. Pepper liked to open her doors at the first sign of nice weather. I was always afraid a bird would fly in or a squirrel would run in.

  I leaned in through the open doorway. “Hello?”

  I called out a few more times before stepping back to ring the doorbell. I couldn’t believe there wasn’t a doorbell here either. Even if the house was built without one, you would have thought a doorbell would have been added in later years. At the very least, there should have been a large rope to pull for some ding-dong noise deep within the house to alert an intimidating butler that someone was at the door.

  Now what? Should I leave or step inside and wait? Richard’s car was here, so he was obviously in the house somewhere. If I went in, it wouldn’t be like I was breaking and entering. Maybe he left the door open for me. I should look around before giving up. That way, I could report to Jackie about the interior of the house.

  I took a last look around behind me to be sure no one was watching, and I stepped through the doorway.

  I took a few steps forward, waited for my eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting, and found myself in a huge hall that was more like a ballroom. Dark wood covered the walls, and it certainly wasn’t paneling from Home Depot. Beautiful paintings and tapestries hung on the walls. I assumed the paintings were original works of art. A crystal chandelier suspended from the center of the ceiling surely cost more money than I would make in a lifetime.

  There were doors on both sides of the hall. The doors to the rooms on my immediate left and right were closed. I tiptoed forward and peered through the next doorway to my left. It was a formal dining room. An exquisite lace tablecloth covered the expansive table. I couldn’t resist going in to take a closer look. I ran my fingers across the lace and marveled at the soft texture.

  A sideboard held a set of beautiful rose-patterned dishes. I picked up a plate and checked the underside to read the stamp. Royal Copenhagen. I didn’t know anything about fine China, but I knew this was expensive. I set the plate down and decided against picking up any of the crystal.

  If Glenn and I had dinner at this table, we would need walkie-talkies to carry on a conversation from one end to the other. I smiled at the thought, but a momentary melancholy washed over me. I wondered if I left a message for Glenn that I snooping in Richard Munson’s house, would he care enough to come stop me.

  I pushed Glenn out of my mind and walked back into the hall. There was something familiar about the house. I felt as if I had been here before.

  Across the hall, I could see floor-to-ceiling bookshelves through the open doorway. The door to the room beside it was closed.

  Something at the end of the hall caught my attention. It was darkest at that end, and I stared hard, trying to determine what it was. My heart took a leap when I realized it was a man. The hair stood up on the back of my neck until my eyes focused more clearly, and I could see it was a suit of armor. I laughed out loud – mostly to release some of the tension I was feeling, but I also wanted to know if my laugh would echo in the large hall.

  It didn’t.

  The feeling of being alone in the house was beginning to get creepy, and I no longer cared to look around. I was going back to my truck. I’d call Richard on my cell phone from there. I should have thought of that sooner.

  I turned to leave and held my breath as I watched one of the closed doors open slowly – creepy slowly, yet no one appeared. I was ready to run, but my feet remained firmly planted.

  A faint noise sounded. It was soft at first, but grew stronger and louder until a clear meow could be heard. A black cat walked out from the room.

  Relief washed over me. “Hi, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty.” I knelt down and held my hand out for the cat. It meowed once and ran past me to the end of the hall and up a wide, sweeping staircase. I decided against following it.

  I tiptoed forward and peeked into the room. The curtains were open, sunlight streamed in, and a massive wood desk was the focal point. This had to be Richard’s office. I could see the end of a sofa. Maybe he was napping. I stepped into the room, but the sofa held nothing more than two small leather pillows. A large brown floor globe in a wooden base seemed rather cliche in the room.

  A candleholder had been knocked over, probably by the cat, and lay on the floor near the globe. I picked it up and looked to replace it, but I didn’t see where it would have originally been set.

  I stepped around the desk and my heart jumped once again. Richard Munson was lying on the carpet with an ugly gash in his head. I looked at the candleholder in my hand and saw blood on the bottom.

  An ear-shattering scream sounded in the room.

  It didn’t come from me. A small woman in jeans and a t-shirt stood in the doorway with her hand over her mouth. She ran into the hall. I followed her, but she ran out the front door and to
ok off down the drive. I didn’t pursue her. She was already running a lot faster than I could.

  Who was she? And where had she come from? There weren’t any neighbors close enough to walk over and ask to borrow a cup of sugar.

  I walked back to the office and set the candlestick on the desk. Even though I knew what the answer would be, I checked Richard for a pulse.

  Who would have wanted to kill him?

  My heart sank as I remembered Kristy leaving just as I arrived. She stood to gain an enormous fortune if her grandfather died. I reached into my bag for my cell phone. I didn’t try calling Glenn. I called the station and asked for Sergeant Rorski.

  He answered in his usual unfriendly bellow. “What do you want Ravens?”

  I suddenly knew why the house felt familiar.

  “Miss Scarlet, in the study, with the candlestick.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted.

  “I’m at Richard Munson’s place. He’s been murdered.”

  I heard him utter the king of expletives before he slammed down the phone.

  Chapter Four

  I knew I had at least fifteen minutes, maybe more, before the police arrived. I sent a text to Jackie. Richard Munson murdered. No poetry here. Police on their way.

  I pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and began a mad dash through the house. I opened closed doors and peered into every room. I even forced myself to open the walk-in freezer in the kitchen, fully expecting a body to fall out.

  There wasn’t so much as a speck of dust out of place in the house. I didn’t have enough time to locate the basement or check for an attic, and I was out of breath when I ran back into Richard’s office. I felt terrible stepping over his body, but it was the only way to reach the drawers in the desk. I searched quickly. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and there weren’t any folders to look through. He apparently didn’t use the room for business. An appointment calendar was in the middle desk drawer. My name was clearly written in the four o’clock slot. The rest of the month was blank.

  I slipped off the gloves and crammed them into my bag. Sirens sounded in the distance. I hurried outside to wait. I knew the sergeant would appreciate that I wasn’t standing over the body when he arrived.

  I almost laughed when the police cars came into view. They came up the drive one after another until six cars had stopped in the circular drive in front of the house.

  I was only slightly surprised when Glenn exited the same vehicle as Sergeant Rorski. He had Glenn on call at all times and thought nothing of waking him to assist at a crime scene.

  The sergeant ordered some of the men to search the grounds before he strode up to me and demanded, “Where is he?”

  I led the men into the hall and pointed to the office. The sergeant ordered more of his men to search the house. I didn’t volunteer that they wouldn’t find anyone.

  Not wanting to be underfoot, I sat on a small, upholstered settee across the hall. I knew the sergeant would yell for me in a few minutes anyway.

  I did regret telling him Miss Scarlet did it. I had jumped to conclusions once before, and it nearly put someone in jail for a long time. Even though I thought there was a high probability this was Kristy’s doing, I wasn’t going to accuse her to the sergeant. I’d let the investigation play itself out properly.

  More sirens sounded. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. Between Mama, Glenn, and now this, I was mentally and physically exhausted.

  Someone kicked the foot of the settee.

  “Ravens, wake up,” the sergeant roared.

  I lifted my head and opened my eyes. Sergeant Rorski and half a dozen officers stood in front of me. Glenn, Officer Winnie, and Officer Collins were three of the six. Glenn had a slight smile on his face. I didn’t know if he had forgiven me or if he was laughing at me.

  I felt discombobulated and confused. Howard Sanders, the city coroner walked out of Richard’s office, looked at me, and screwed his face into a look of disgust. His usual men hired for body removal were already moving Richard out of the house.

  “Some of us are working, Jo.” he said. “Did you have a nice nap?”

  He turned on his heel and followed the body.

  Nap? Nap? I had fallen asleep? Surely, it wasn’t for more than a minute or two, but when did Howard and his crew get here? And how was it they were already done examining the body?

  Jackie walked out of Richard’s office. She was writing in her notebook. My eyes widened. When did she get here? Why in the world didn’t she wake me?

  I was further aggravated that she looked stunning in an all-white suit with her red hair pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. A bun on her wasn’t even remotely matronly – it was incredibly sexy. Howard must have drooled when he saw her. She wouldn’t have to bribe him with pies for information on this case if she showed up at the morgue looking like that. I suddenly felt like a slug on the bench. I had been sweating from running through the house, and I hated myself for not making more of an effort to lose weight. I was definitely going to start exercising tomorrow.

  I stood and faced the sergeant.

  “What can I do for you?’ I asked.

  “Let’s start with the obvious. Where will we find your fingerprints?”

  It took a second to think back to parking at the rear of the house before everything became clear. “On the door handle of the back door and on a rocking chair, because I sat out there for a while.” One of the officers snickered, but I had no idea who. “And they’re on a plate in the dining room.” There was another snicker. “I think the only other place is on the candlestick.”

  Officer Collins exploded into laughter.

  Sergeant Rorski turned to him and yelled, “Out!”

  That didn’t stop him from laughing, but he did say, “Sorry, Sarge,” on his way out the door.

  I quickly said, “Yes, I know it’s the murder weapon, but I didn’t know that when I picked it up off the floor.” His expression let me know he was ready to blow, because I had moved the object, but I put my hand up before he could speak. “Wait a minute. Let me tell you what happened.”

  He clenched his lips tight.

  “I had a four o’clock appointment with Mr. Munson. He’s had me running surveillance on his granddaughter before giving her a chunk of money for her birthday next month, and he wanted to discuss it with me today. The sign in the driveway said to park in back and another sign said to enter through the back door, so that’s where I went.”

  I went on to tell him my activities from the time I first knocked on the back door until I called to report the murder. I noticed Jackie taking a few notes as I talked. I didn’t tell him I searched the house and office before they arrived.

  I started to tell him about the woman screaming, but I was interrupted by a disturbance outside. One of the officers ran in and said something to the sergeant.

  “Wait here,” he barked at me. All of the officers followed him outside.

  I was unhappy with Jackie and turned on her. “Some friend you are. I can’t believe you didn’t wake me when you came in.”

  She appeared taken aback by my tone. “I wanted to, but when the sergeant heard you were sleeping, he had everyone tip-toeing and whispering. He didn’t want you in the room or to talk with you until they were done with the body.” I was sure my attitude hurt her feelings, because she finished with, “I can’t believe you fell asleep at a crime scene, and you have to stop pretending you don’t snore, because you do.”

  Fatigue and frustration were evident in my voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’ve been this way all day.” I lowered my voice. “I haven’t told the sergeant yet, but just before I pulled in, Kristy Munson pulled out. She either killed her grandfather, knows who did, or found him already dead and fled without calling the police.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Jo, you have to tell him right away. They need to pick her up for questioning.”

  “No I don�
��t. He doesn’t respect me as a private investigator, and I’m not volunteering information to him. If he hadn’t left me sitting out here snoring for everyone to hear, I might be more willing to help. I’ll talk with Kristy myself. According to Mama, she knows I’ve been following her, so she won’t be surprised to hear from me.”

  “I heard,” she said.

  “You heard me snoring?”

  She smiled. “You weren’t actually snoring. You were making soft breathing noises.” I knew she was only trying to make me feel better. “What I heard was Kristy knew you were following her.”

  Mama! Before I could complain about her, Sergeant Rorski came rushing back into the hall with his entourage of officers in tow.

  The woman who had stood screaming in the doorway of Richard’s office was in the midst of the men. She pointed at me.

  “That’s her. That’s the woman who killed Mr. Munson.”

  “I did not,” I said defensively.

  Her voice was shrill. “I saw you! You were standing over the body with a candlestick in your hand.” She looked at the sergeant. “She must have taken it from the dining room.”

  “Who is she?” I asked Sergeant Rorski.

  “I’m the maid.” She said it as if I should already know. She looked to the sergeant and asked, “Who is she?”

  “I’m the private investigator,” I said. “And I’m going to prove it was you who killed Richard Munson. You were the only other person in the house, and he was dead when I walked in.”

  “I wasn’t in the house. I showed up for work and found you standing over him after you killed him. He was a good boss, and now I don’t have a job.” She wiped her eyes.

  Sergeant Rorski appeared ready to blow his top. He already had one heart attack this year, and I wasn’t going to contribute to his second. I stopped arguing with the woman.

  “Get her out of here,” he said to Officer Winnie.