Six Merry Little Murders

by Lee Strauss et al.

  Except it wasn’t. There was something she’d forgotten about… something she was supposed to have told Frank. What was it again?

  She sighed. Hopefully it would come to her later when she saw him again. She finished washing her hands, wondering what Oscar was up to. She thought she heard a bedroom door open and shut. Who’s was that? Steve’s? But it couldn’t be.

  A second later, a man’s gruff voice came down the hall. It wouldn’t have caught her attention, except it sounded angry.

  Was that cursing? The words were low and mumbled. She held her breath, trying to make out the words.

  “You said the money would be there. Why isn’t it there?” There was a pause. “Well I don’t care about that. Get after them and get it in the account. I don’t want to hear any more excuses. What do I pay you for?”

  Cecelia tiptoed over to eavesdrop better. At that exact moment, the two business men walked into the kitchen. Scrambling back, she reached for a dish and a towel. Too late, she realized she was drying a dirty dish.

  She was also muddled by a feeling that something wasn’t right. The voice she’d heard hadn’t sounded like either one of those men. “Hi Troy. Are either of you hungry?”

  “No, ma’am,” Troy answered. “We ate on the way here.”

  Cecelia frowned. It was Sunday afternoon and, in this old fashioned town, most restaurants were packed full. “Was it hard to get a seat?”

  “We walked right in. Must have been our lucky day.” He glanced around the kitchen. “I’d love to have one of those cinnamon rolls I’m smelling though.”

  More footsteps rattled against the hardwood floors.

  It was Oscar.

  “Long time no see, handsome. Did you find everything you were looking for?” she asked.

  “Indeed I have. And then some. Could you call Frank to return, please?” He smiled, but the sentiment didn’t reach his eyes.

  Cecelia’s mouth dropped open.

  “Just see if he can pop back here,” Oscar murmured again. Then he walked into the living room where he helped himself to some coffee from the refreshment station.

  A moment later both Troy and Roy meandered into the living room.

  “Gentlemen, what are your plans for today?” Oscar asked as he settled into his favorite armchair.

  Roy walked over to the fireplace and nudged one of the nativity figurines on the mantle. “Not sure. Looks like a bad snowstorm is headed our way,” he said.

  Cecelia joined the three of them and gave Oscar a discreet nod.

  “The news is calling for eight inches. We might be snowed in,” responded Troy.

  There was clattering down the stairs, making the men look up. Bobby came down, carrying two suitcases. He set them on the foyer’s floor with a huff.

  “Hey, guys!” Bobby said. “I guess Brenda and I are on our way.”

  “Leaving so soon?” Oscar asked curiously.

  Cecelia noted that, oddly, he didn’t seem surprised.

  “Yeah. I guess we decided to try to make it to her parents’ house for Christmas after all. Especially with this crazy storm rolling in.”

  A sharp squeaking made everyone turn their heads.

  “So, I suppose I’ll be checking out now, myself” Steve said, pushing his wheelchair into the foyer. “Do you think someone could help me with my bags?”

  Oscar stood up and glanced down the hall to Steve’s room, where a suitcase sat outside the door. “Were you able to get everything packed, even Mike’s stuff?”

  Steve glanced at his lap. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, everything is packed.”

  “Well that must have been hard to do. I’m sorry about that, sir.”

  Steve looked up, misty-eyed. “I can’t thank everyone enough for what you’ve done for me. But with feeling sick, and everything else, I need to get home. My ride will be here any minute.”

  “Of course. Sometimes home is the best place.” Oscar nodded his head.

  Brenda came down the stairs now, a hat on her head and a small valise in her hand. “Did you check us out?” she asked Bobby.

  “Why don’t you two hang on for a second. There was something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Oscar beckoned. “You too, Steve. Humor me, if you would. In fact, how about you all join me in the living room?” Oscar waved his hand through the living room entryway.

  Steve paused, his eyebrows lifting, but he went ahead and pushed into the room. Brenda and Bobby left their suitcases and followed.

  “What is this, some kind of family meeting?” Bobby joked as he spotted Roy and Troy.

  “Did someone say family meeting?” called Sarah from the top of the stairs.

  “Just a short one. Join us, will you, Sarah? Cecelia, can we turn the Christmas music down a notch? And do you have any of those wonderful homemade gingersnaps left from last night? Would it be possible to bring out a plate?”

  Cecelia turned down the music, and then disappeared into the kitchen. She soon bustled back with a plate of cookies which she passed them around. As she did so, a familiar face poked through the door.

  It was Frank.

  “Hey, everybody,” the policeman said. He made no mention of the canceled lunch date with Georgie.

  “Ahh, just the man I wanted to see,” said Oscar, with a crunch on his cookie. “Try these! They are wonderful!”

  Frank sat down like he’d been expected, after first grabbing a cookie. He crossed his legs. “Mm, delicious. How’s everyone today?”

  “Fine, fine,” Oscar said. “These lovely people are about to check out of the bed-and-breakfast. I did want to clear up one thing before we all went our separate ways.”

  “And what’s that?” Bobby asked from over by the Christmas tree. His forehead rumpled in a display of faint annoyance.

  “Yes, yes. Let’s get right to the point. After all, everyone is busy. You all have lives. No need to beat around the bush.” Oscar swiveled in the chair and pointed to Steve. “You, sir, can walk.”

  9

  The room deadened with silence. No one moved, as if not wanting to be the first to look at Steve.

  After a few shocked seconds, Steve gave a blustering laugh. “What are you talking about? I think that’s rather unkind—”

  “Oscar,” Cecelia warned. A flush crept up her cheeks.

  “I’d like to hear more.” Frank leaned forward as a relaxed, open expression stretched across his face. He shrugged his shoulder, causing the badge to twinkle under the blinking Christmas lights, and took another bite of the cookie.

  Oscar pulled out a pen from his pocket. “It started with this. I noticed it the day Mike died, when we were about to enter your room to check on you. Odd little thing, it was tucked behind a picture frame.”

  He studied it for a moment before holding it out for everyone to examine. A plain ballpoint pen with a silver click top. No one was impressed.

  He pressed the top a few times with a noticeable click and then set it on the table.

  Frank picked it up, curiously. He turned it over his hands before holding it up to the light and peering down the length. “It’s a video camera,” he announced.

  “It is indeed. Pointed in such a way as to see down the hallway. It would catch anyone approaching the room. Your room.” Oscar bobbed his head in Steve’s direction. “The first time I saw it, I purposely turned the picture frame so it would cover the lens. When I returned, I saw it had been moved back to its prime viewing spot again.

  “Which led me to wonder, why would anyone care to see who was coming down the hall? It wouldn’t do any of the other guests any good. No. The only people it would benefit would be Mike and Steve. And with Mike dead, and the pen moved, it had to be Steve.”

  “This is preposterous,” Steve stammered. “Despite what you say, I can’t walk.”

  “Indeed,” Oscar said, and continued. “My second thought happened with a prescription bottle. I noticed it on the floor the day of Mike’s death and specifically put it on top of the dresser. I positioned it
in such a way that it couldn’t be knocked down. If Steve needed it, he would have to ask someone to bring it to him. Yet the next time I was in the room, the bottle rested on the table beside the bed. I asked Steve if anyone had been in his room and he said no one but Frank.”

  At this point, Oscar glanced at Frank. “You yourself mentioned it was only to help him dress and nothing more.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I remember.” The police officer nodded.

  “I noticed the shoes by the bed, hard-soled business shoes. Quite a bit bigger than my own feet. The same size as yours.” He stared pointedly at Steve’s feet.

  “I wear shoes. Just because I can’t walk that doesn’t make it a crime.”

  “No, no it doesn’t. But you were walking a lot. So much pacing that it disturbed Sarah upstairs. You see, Mike was a short man. When he died, he was wearing tennis shoes. Definitely not ones that clacked against the floor.”

  Steve opened his mouth and shut it again.

  “Of course, like you might say, this is all circumstantial. But don’t worry, it’s not all about you, Steve,” Oscar said in a camaraderie tone. “There are other interesting parts to this story. One of those things was centered around the time you two showed up yesterday.” This time Oscar directed his comment to Brenda and Bobby. “From the moment Mike was discovered, you both were here at the house. And then there’s you two,” he directed to the business men. “Also both here despite a day of scheduled meetings.”

  There was some throat clearing and a few suspicious glances shot at one another, but for the most part, the group kept very quiet.

  Except for Steve. He plucked at the blanket covering his legs. “Are you done with this preposterous cross-examining? I’m sure my car is here, and I have a plane to catch.”

  “Of course. I don’t want to keep you. There’s only one more thing.” Oscar cleared his throat. “Cecelia, my love, can you get me a glass of water?”

  She nodded and hurried out.

  “Now, as I was saying, we have these two sets of guests who are here at the exact time as our poor fellow guest is killed. The coroner did confirm that he was murdered, by the way. Poisoned.” Frank nodded.

  Cecelia brought the glass and Oscar took a sip. “Thank you, my dear. I seemed to have possibly caught a touch of what Steve has. Scratchy throat. Now where was I? Oh, yes. As I was saying, both Roy and Troy were purportedly here to attend a business conference. Last night I made a few phone calls to the hotels in town and it appears that those meetings never existed.”

  Troy and Roy glanced guiltily at each other.

  “Of course, this was not of a great surprise since both of you were seen at a bar during the meeting time in question. It was by Miss Brenda, here.” Oscar dipped his cookie in her direction.

  Brenda squirmed like a ruffled chicken at the sudden attention. She quickly blurted, “I wasn’t ratting you guys out. I made a simple comment to Cecelia.”

  Oscar nodded at Brenda. “Where did you two say you were going after this?”

  They glanced at each other. “Her mother’s house,” answered Bobby.

  “Interesting. And what state is that?” Oscar smiled with an irritatingly patient expression relaxing the wrinkles around his eyes.

  “We, uh…” began Bobby

  “Tennessee,” Brenda spouted.

  “Tennessee, very interesting.” Oscar pulled out a paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. “According to your hotel application, Miss Brenda, you are using a company card?”

  Her mouth opened and shut.

  Oscar eyed her through his thick glasses before glancing down to read, “The company being BlueMark Liability Insurance, located in Oregon.”

  She glanced at Bobby and swallowed fast.

  “A few minutes ago, I made a quick phone call to the company. The head of operations was happy to reveal that you are fraud investigators. Is that true?”

  Brenda’s face paled. She glanced at Steve and then down at her hands which fidgeted with a hangnail.

  Oscar continued, his voice low and mild. “So my assumption is that you will be following Steve wherever he may be going. As an undercover operation, perhaps.”

  She didn’t respond. Oscar peered through the bottom of his glasses as he continued to read. “Now on to Roy and Troy. It seems you are here under an investigative role yourselves. Only not quite as legal. You are looking into getting repayment?”

  “What are you talking about?” Roy sneered.

  Oscar sighed slowly, his nostrils flaring. “I’m guessing your boss hooked Steve and Mike up with false identities, along with a false accident report, doctors reports, etcetera. They were supposed to split the money with you. Yet it seems they chose to vanish, instead.” They blinked at him. Sighing, he continued. “They took off.”

  “We don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Roy with a shrug.

  Oscar pulled out a ratty napkin. Breathing heavily, he leaned forward and flattened it on the coffee table. On the front, half covered with barbecue sauce, was a very bold red bull moniker.

  “Recognize that?” Oscar asked Frank.

  Frank leaned to take a look. He flipped it over using the camera pen. Written on the back was directions to this bed-and-breakfast.

  “This morning my dog got loose. Something knocked over a trash can. She got into it before I could stop her. I was frustrated, let me tell you. Especially when she ran past me and hid under the bed with her treasure. It seems she found some of your old ribs wrapped in something else. This.” He relaxed against the back of the seat. “It’s from a known mafia meeting house in Brooklyn. A house that’s very well known in producing identity theft documents.”

  “You can’t link that to me,” said Roy. “That restaurant is packed every night. Everyone goes there to eat, even the mayor.”

  “Are you sure there are no links?” Oscar raised an eyebrow, but the man stared him down. Frank got up and walked out of the room.

  “Because,” continued Oscar. “When we were playing cards the other day I happened to notice a tattoo on your wrist. You were grabbing the cards and there was a bull as plain as day.”

  “Anyone can have a bull tattoo,” Roy sneered.

  “Why don’t you show us?” Bobby asked, suddenly sounding quite curious.

  Roy looked at him and then at Oscar, before pulling up his sleeve. The tattoo was exactly the same as what was on the napkin.

  “All right, all right. This is no big deal. We didn’t do anything,” Troy said. “We were just going to talk to them, but Mike died on us before we had a chance.”

  “Oh, I’m not blaming you for Mike’s death,” Oscar said.

  “What’s all this about then, anyway?” asked Troy.

  “I think you and Roy were here to collect the money that Mike and Steve owed your boss.” Oscar turned toward Brenda and Bobby. “And I think you two were here to investigate Mike and Steve after they apparently bilked your company for an insurance settlement. Apparently, you realized something was off with their identities.”

  And then back to Steve. “It took me some time, but I realized Mike wasn’t your son at all. Despite saying you were so close, you didn’t know he didn’t play poker or that he didn’t drink coffee but only energy drinks. And I noticed that when we went into your room that day, there was a strong scent of aftershave. It seems like that’s a common trick to make eyes red and appear teary. Yes, you are the key to all of this. Mike was your partner, and you both assumed new identities, one of them was someone who’d been in a traffic accident. One way or another you were able to procure the settlement. Through the mafia’s ties you had the paperwork you needed to show your injury and identify who was at fault. Everything was going as planned until Mike got himself a little too feisty. You guys argued a lot, hmm? You set the camera up so no one would catch you walking around. But everyone here has been watching you and making conversations that have been overheard.”

  “This is preposterous. You all have the wrong man,”
Steve sputtered.

  “So what ended up being the tipping point, Steve? Did Mike have one argument too many with you?”

  Brenda cleared her throat. “Actually, we figured things out. Mike was cooperating with us for a lesser charge. He called us here, and we were gathering our last bit of evidence.”

  “I see,” said Oscar, and then back to Steve, “So, I assume you knew that Mike was thinking of turning over on you. That makes sense. You spiked his energy drink with Digitalis, the prescription in your room, which is used to help with hearth rhythm. It can also cause immediate cardiac arrest if given at a high enough dose when it’s not needed.”

  Steve half-rose out of the chair, his face white with fury. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mike had a heart attack. Like you said, he was known to always chug those energy drinks. How am I to blame for that?”

  “Blame? How are you indeed? Well, the drug will take a couple more weeks to identify, but between the blood vessel petechiae on Mike’s face and the reaction to his heart, the coroner has already raised Digitalis as the probable cause of death to over ninety percent. By the way, I saved the energy drink cans when I was picking up the garbage. The forensic’s lab can test them for the medicine. I’m fairly sure that is why you asked if he wanted coffee yesterday morning, so you could spike his drink.”

  “You can’t prove a thing!” Steve screamed.

  “You have the right to remain silent,” Frank said, reappearing in the room.

  Steve stared at him with eyes the size of saucers. He jumped up and flung the chair in the officer’s direction before darting through the kitchen and out the back door.

  10

  Fortunately, Steve did not get far. When Frank had left the room the first time, he’d called for backup. The police already gotten into position by the time Frank made his arrest.

  There was no reason to detain the other guests. The detectives were already in contact with the BlueMark Liability Insurance. Eventually, all the evidence was gathered, and the police left (with Jefferson quietly reassuring Cecelia that her food service license was safe).