Murder at the Moonshine Inn

by Maggie King

  Lucy had recently redecorated the morning room with purple flowered chintz. What was chintz, anyway? I called all flowered cloth chintz. The original rattan grouping remained. Plants hung from the ceiling and sat atop tables. The many windows looked out on a yard abundant with plants and colorful annuals. Two cats perched on the wide window ledges. I wouldn’t have made the purple rain connection as the color didn’t overpower the mostly white room, but likely musical connections came naturally to Dave.

  When I’d moved from Los Angeles to Richmond in 2000 Lucy had said “Stay with me for a while.” The “while” turned into nearly six years, and if not for marrying Vince and buying a house with him, Lucy and I might still be housemates.

  I didn’t arrive on the East Coast by myself—Shammy, my beautiful calico cat, accompanied me. Daisy, a charcoal and white domestic shorthair, had lived happily with Lucy for a few years before Shammy and I came on the scene. After an iffy initiation, Daisy and Shammy settled down and got along amazingly well—for the most part.

  When Vince and I married I found it wrenching to give up Shammy but I didn’t want to break up the pair. And I visited often so got to spend time with my old friend.

  Lucy, looking cool in a blue linen sheath, appeared as the doorbell rang. Sarah, Trudy, and Eileen arrived at once and poured into the morning room, alarming the cats who scrammed for safer haven.

  We all oohed and aahed over Lucy’s redecorating success before getting down to business. At the present stage business meant a rehash and update of the day’s happenings. For Sarah’s benefit we recapped the funeral dramatics, starting with my exile from the chapel.

  Sarah looked at me and repeated Vince’s earlier comment. “Brad really has it in for you.”

  “Yeah, I can picture him with a voodoo doll that looks remarkably like me.”

  “What’s with him, anyway?”

  “I overheard him telling Paul that he ‘wants nothing to do with that woman!’ I somehow thought the woman was Hazel.” Lucy looked at me and smiled as she said this.

  “I’m sure. Unless he has hostile feelings toward a number of women. I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  “Seriously, be careful of him. He may have killed Rox and Nina—and don’t forget his wife who drowned. We don’t know if he had a hand in that death as well. And he’s so angry at you.”

  “Lucy’s right,” Eileen put in. “The guy’s a loose cannon. But maybe we shouldn’t be scaring poor Hazel.”

  Trudy piped up, “But if he was planning to kill Hazel, why would he act the way he did today? Talk about being a prime suspect.”

  Lucy raked her layered hair with her perfectly manicured burgundy nails. “He isn’t rational.”

  I waved my hand back and forth. “I don’t care to have my demise discussed like I’m not here. But you’re right, I need to be careful. As do we all. But tell Sarah more about the funeral. And I don’t know what happened after I left.”

  “Brad settled down and we didn’t hear a peep out of him until the service was over,” Trudy said. “He didn’t even give a eulogy. He got Eileen and me to do it. Asked us the minute we arrived in the chapel. We didn’t mind but it would’ve been nice to have had some advance notice. We did our best.”

  “They were very nice eulogies,” Lucy assured them.

  “The poor woman had to have a eulogy,” Sarah said.

  I agreed, adding, “Especially since she didn’t have an obit.”

  “It was kind of tough because we didn’t know her well at all.” Trudy grinned. “I think Eileen made up stuff as she went along.”

  “Well, I barely knew the woman,” Eileen said. “Trudy saw her more because she walks Millie right past Nina’s house.”

  “And I only saw her once or twice a year, if that,” Trudy said. “She wasn’t an outdoorsy person.”

  Neighborhoods were funny. My own neighbors were a friendly lot but I rarely saw them. Nowadays so many people had gardeners, and homeowners didn’t venture outside as much.

  “Did you see any possibilities for the two women in the green car?” I asked.

  Trudy, Eileen, and Lucy looked at each other and shrugged. “It was hard to tell,” Lucy began. “Those descriptions are so vague and could apply to almost anyone. There were a couple of women with white hair—”

  “We saw a tall woman, five-seven or so, with longish hair, flat on top.” Eileen patted the top of her head. “And she wore heels.”

  “No trouble walking in them, though,” Trudy said. “But we didn’t see two women together who fit the descriptions that Mrs. Ellbee gave us.” Lucy and Eileen agreed.

  “Lucy, did Brad know you were my cousin?”

  “He didn’t know it from me. I didn’t talk to him much beyond the ‘sorry for your loss’ type of thing. He was distracted, dismissive.”

  “If he thought you and Hazel were related, he’d probably have ordered you off the premises as well,” Eileen noted with a smirk.

  We fell to analyzing Brad’s bizarre behavior, but we didn’t get any further than Vince and I had at lunch. We maintained our belief that Brad probably killed Nina as well as her sister and he was happy to have the police declare it a cold case due to lack of proof.

  “Apparently he thinks quite highly of Hazel’s skills if he’s that afraid that she’ll come up with the proof.”

  I rolled my eyes. “All because Nina told him about Carlene.”

  “And then money’s a recurrent theme with him,” Sarah said. “He thinks you’re after his. He’s clearly paranoid.”

  “What really bothers me is what he said about me being the cause of Nina’s death. I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember if I said something to put her in danger, but I can’t come up with anything.”

  Lucy nodded. “I can’t either. But I only talked to Foster and I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything about Nina, didn’t even mention her name.”

  “I may have mentioned her with Maisie, but only in passing,” I said. “And I don’t see her killing Nina. Do you, Sarah?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “So I guess it was just Brad mouthing off,” I concluded. “Still, it’s unnerving to be accused of being the cause of someone’s death.”

  “Eileen and I had an interesting chat with one of Nina’s old friends. If we ever hear that Brad was murdered, this woman would be the likely culprit. She sure raked him over the coals.”

  When Trudy paused, I made a “go on” motion. “At some point, Nina got pregnant. I think this was some time ago, maybe in the late eighties. Nina didn’t want her mom to know, so this friend went with her to have an abortion. Apparently Brad was the father, and Nina had been sure that he would leave his wife and marry her, especially when she got pregnant. According to the friend—I can’t for the life of me remember her name—can you, Eileen?”

  Eileen shook her head ruefully and Trudy continued. “Apparently, Brad wasn’t keen on leaving his wife and making an honest woman out of Nina. So Nina threatened to tell his wife. That got her a black eye. Nina’s friend pleaded with her not to say anything to Brad’s wife. As far as she knows, Nina never did. Maybe the black eye scared her into backing off.”

  Eileen took up the tale. “Even though Nina eventually married—and divorced—she still pined for Brad. Her friend said she wouldn’t have been surprised if Nina carried on with Brad behind hubby’s back.”

  “And then,” Trudy put in, “Almost the minute Brad’s poor wife drowns, Brad marries Rox. Then she’s killed and Brad goes running back to Nina.”

  “Sheesh,” I said when Trudy finished. “And Nina claimed, more than once, that Brad was ‘such a nice man.’”

  “He’s clearly a bully,” Sarah said. “You told us about his threatening Evangeline.”

  “True. I was a little doubtful about some of her claims, but at this juncture I think she was telling the truth.”

  “Hazel, what about what Tammy said last night?” Lucy asked.

  “Oh, yes. You tell them, Lucy.”


  Lucy detailed the conversation of the night before with the loquacious Tammy’s tale of the Veronica-Brad-Nina triangle.

  “Ew,” Eileen screwed up her face. “The guy’s a real sleaze.”

  “Didn’t Susan Isaacs write something about a dentist servicing his patients?” Sarah asked. I had thought the same thing when Tammy regaled us the night before.

  “Compromising Positions,” Trudy supplied the name. “It was a movie as well.”

  “So, Hazel, Patty and Paul are moving back to Pittsburgh to care for Paul’s mother?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes. They’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “Too bad,” Sarah said. “Just when you were getting to know her.” Had I gotten to know her? I felt like I knew little more than when we first met.

  “She called me this afternoon, apologizing for Brad. And you’ll never guess who else called.” When no one hazarded a guess, I mimed a game show host. “Andy! He called and left a voice mail, also apologizing about Brad. I called him back but had to leave a voice mail.”

  “Phone tag,” Eileen joked. “What else did he say?”

  “Nothing. Just left his number.”

  “We met Andy today,” Trudy said. “He came in from Kentucky. Didn’t get to chat though. I really wanted to get something out of him, but lots of people were trying to talk to him.”

  “Well, I hope he calls back. Maybe I can get something out of him. Since he apologized for Brad, I’m guessing he doesn’t share his father’s hostility towards me. So, was he sitting with Brad at the chapel?”

  “Yes, right next to him in the front row. Short hair, tan suit.”

  I nodded. “I saw him. The back of him, that is. I was expecting long hair.” I described the picture in Patty’s apartment.

  “He’s quite charming,” Lucy said. “Maybe his mother was charming.”

  “Assuming that personalities are inherited,” I said.

  “Let’s leave that question to the nature-vs.-nurture experts,” Eileen said as she took a sheet of paper from a manila folder by her purse. “I have some information on Evangeline.”

  We gave Eileen our attention and she began. “Evangeline Goudreau was born in 1962, graduated from VCU in 1984, and has held various accounting jobs over the years. She went to the Hamlin Group in 1993—”

  I broke in. “I didn’t realize she’d been there that long. And Rox just up and fires her?”

  “Hazel, employers stopped being loyal years ago,” Trudy gave me a rueful smile. “Employees too, for that matter.”

  I shook my head. “Yes, but still.”

  “And she’s not a CPA,” Eileen continued. “At least, not according to the American Institute of CPAs.”

  “Well, I don’t think anyone said she was a CPA,” I said.

  Lucy put in her knowledge as an employment counselor. “Many employers don’t require their accountants to be CPAs. If she could use a computerized accounting program, she could get a job in the field.”

  Eileen turned a page of her notes and read: “Evangeline has lived in the same house all her life. Her parents purchased it in 1960. Her mother served on the board of the Parent and Child Foundation for many years.”

  “Hmm,” Sarah mused. “They’re very pro-life.”

  I snapped my fingers. “That’s it! Evangeline had an abortion. Her mother would throw her out of the house if she knew. Disinherit her as well. And Evangeline says she’s mean. So I’m thinking that Evangeline told Rox about the abortion over a glass of wine and Rox, knowing dear old mom’s pro-life leanings, threatened to tell her all about her daughter’s deed.”

  “Hazel, your writer’s imagination is running amok,” Lucy said. “But you may be on to something.”

  “But if Evangeline was born in 1962 she’s what, fifty-one now? This alleged abortion probably happened some time ago. Would her mother still get up in arms about it?”

  “Yes, Sarah, she could,” Trudy said. “If she’s very committed to the pro-life cause, it wouldn’t matter how long ago it happened.”

  “Nichole might know,” I said. “But I’d have to get back in her good graces to find out. And she might not tell me if Evangeline told her in confidence.”

  “Still, we’re speculating.” Trudy looked thoughtful. “What about embezzlement? Evangeline could have helped herself to some funds.”

  “Would she be dumb enough to tell her boss about it?” Sarah’s brows came together.

  Trudy shrugged. “Maybe after enough glasses of wine.”

  “Now that Nina’s dead, does that mean she didn’t kill Rox?” Eileen asked.

  “Not at all,” I said. “Just because she herself was murdered doesn’t mean she didn’t murder. But for some reason they come to conclusions like that in books.”

  Sarah piped up. “And if this was a book, the murderer wouldn’t be Brad, just because he seems so obvious.”

  Trudy nodded, adding, “Murder mysteries in books are written to be puzzles for the reader’s enjoyment. In real life, it usually is the obvious one. Vince has said that a number of times, right, Hazel?”

  “Right.”

  We fell silent for a moment and just looked at each other. “So where are we now?” Sarah asked. “What else can we do?”

  “Good question,” Trudy said. “Are we out of ideas?”

  “I say we do nothing,” Lucy said. “Brad’s clearly no one to mess with.”

  “No, I’m sticking with it. I agree that we’re stumped at the moment, but something’s bound to turn up.”

  “But Hazel, you saw how Brad was today. And we’ve heard enough bad stuff about his treatment of women. Even if he doesn’t kill them, he’s very abusive.”

  I held up both hands as if to fend off a blow. “I know, Lucy. But after today and what I’ve heard tonight, I’m more determined than ever. Look, when I told Nina I’d make inquiries into Rox’s death I was motivated by family reasons, thinking that I should do what I could to clear Brad if he didn’t do the killings. But now Nina is dead. While I doubt that I had anything to do with her death I’m not totally sure of that. And I’m still not sure what hand Brad had in either death. At any rate, I want to see justice served for both sisters. I can’t sit by. The stakes are doubled now.”

  Lucy sighed. “Okay. So are we all still in this with Hazel?”

  After a unanimous show of hands, I said, “I hope to talk to Andy soon.” I checked my phone but I had no messages. “If we’re lucky, he’ll tell me something useful. Let’s still plan on Skyping on Wednesday. If there’s nothing to say, we can skip it until something comes up.”

  “Let’s continue to travel in pairs,” Trudy cautioned. “And not take any chances.”

  “We can be cerebral,” I suggested. “Like Miss Marple. I don’t think she was ever in personal danger. Or the rabbi, who wrote that series?”

  Eileen explained, showing her librarian stripes. “Harry Kemelman. Rabbi Small was his detective. And you’re right, he solved mysteries through pure logic.”

  “Well, let’s hope the killer is a fan of Miss Marple and Rabbi Small,” Lucy said dryly. “Speaking of fictional detectives, are we going to discuss books? I know our real-life mystery is more interesting, but still . . .”

  We briefly time-traveled to the ancient world, sharing our reading selections complete with thumbs-up and thumbs-down reviews. Over refreshments we went back to speculating about the triangle of Rox, Nina, and Brad.

  •••

  I hemmed and hawed about telling Vince about Nina’s abortion and Brad’s abusiveness. I knew he’d get concerned and try to discourage me from further investigation. But Vince and I had built our marriage on trust and full disclosure. And so I caved.

  As I’d predicted, Vince issued the usual cautions and reminders to travel in pairs, preferably packs.

  “There’s nothing really to do now, anyway,” I said. “Unless Andy gets in touch and offers something illuminating.”

  Vince sighed. “Aren’t you glad your sister turned up those bad apples
on your family tree?”

  TWENTY-THREE

  I SPENT TUESDAY in “do not disturb” mode. I didn’t turn on my computer or even get dressed. I didn’t write and I didn’t detect. After the events and drama of the past two weeks I needed to shut out the world. I did keep my phone nearby in case Andy called, but my elusive cousin didn’t intrude on my self-imposed hibernation. I sat on my porch in my nightgown, reading The Last Embrace by Denise Hamilton, set in 1949—not exactly the ancient world but not contemporary times, either.

  At seven forty-five, Kat’s call brought the world back, front and center.

  “I’m at an AA meeting. You’ll never guess who’s here.” Without waiting for my guess, she went on, “That crazy guy we were talking about. You know, the one who was screaming at Rox.”

  “The lunatic?”

  “That’s the one. I almost didn’t recognize him, ‘cause he’s not bald anymore. But I did recognize the tat on his arm. I’d forgotten all about that. He has this tat of a dog, maybe a Great Dane. Or a wolf. I’m not a dog person.”

  Apparently not, I thought. I wasn’t a dog person either but I could tell a Great Dane from a wolf.

  “He seems nice, not at all lunaticky, so I chatted with him at the break. He’s really hot and has a great voice. And—you won’t believe this—his name is Andy Jones!”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I’m not. Isn’t he Brad’s son?”

  “If it’s the same Andy Jones, and it just has to be, he is Brad’s son. He called yesterday and left a voice message. You’re right, he has a nice voice.”

  “Well, come on over and make it quick. The meeting’s over at eight thirty.” Kat gave directions to the church that provided space for the meeting.

  I dislodged Morris from my lap and rushed upstairs to get dressed. I found Vince holed up in his den, working on his true crime account of the murderous housekeeper. When I told him that the lunatic and Andy were one and the same and that he was at an AA meeting, Vince said, “I’m going with you.”

  “Okay, but we have to get a move on. The meeting’s over at eight thirty.”