by Arlene Kay
Meanwhile I angled closer to Kate and the unlovely Rolf, hoping to break new ground. Our dogs responded nobly by paying special attention to the more infirm and wheelchair-bound residents. Keats and Poe shook hands and gazed soulfully into the eyes of anyone who approached them. Shy residents got an extra nuzzle and headbutt that brought sunshine into the room. My boys made me proud.
“Makes everything worthwhile, doesn’t it?” Kate said. “Gomer never met a stranger. That goofy guy loves everyone.”
We had stopped for tea and scones in the dining room and I responded with my carpe diem moment. “Too bad Magdalen couldn’t join us,” I said. “She loves those dogs so much.”
Kate gave a noncommittal “tut-tut,” but Rolf immediately snarled a response.
“She’s where she belongs. In a padded cell. That woman is a menace. I told Joan Fergueson to get rid of her long before all this trouble started.”
I counted to ten, but it wasn’t enough to calm me down. Self-control, my secret superpower, totally deserted me and a sharp retort flew from my lips. “For your information Magdalen is with her brother and not under any type of arrest.” I restrained myself before I really got into Rolf’s face. After all, my goal was information, not confrontation. I also cursed my stupidity. By opening my big mouth I might have inadvertently tipped off the murderer to Magdalen’s whereabouts. Bad move!
Kate poured oil on troubled waters. “Be fair, Rolf. You can’t blame Magdalen for Nurse Ross’s death. No one forced that woman to wolf down six chocolates. As for Dr. Tully, Irene Wilson confirmed that he called Magdalen to his office. Anyone could have slipped in and killed him with that bottle before she arrived.”
Rolf gave an evil smirk. “Next you’ll be saying he slit his own throat. Well, I happen to know that Jethro Tully had his own theories about Carole Ross.”
“Really?” Kate and I asked in unison.
“I never got the particulars, but Tully told me that he knew all about it and intended to go to the sheriff. Stupid of him, I know. Talk about tempting fate.”
I narrowed my eyes and stared at him. Rolf’s big reveal was late in coming and very convenient. I deliberately powered down and forced myself to smile. “When did he share that with you? Timing is everything, as they say.”
“The same day your dear friend slit his throat. We spoke right after breakfast.” I’m no shrinking violet, but Rolf had cornered the market on malice. The man was a virtuoso and proud of it.
“We got to be pretty close friends,” he said. “Guy stuff, you know. Jethro had some cash to spend and he valued my opinion on real estate. We even bought a couple of properties together. He was nobody’s fool either.” Rolf preened. “Some men would drown in this sea of geriatric head cases, but not him. He had it all figured out.”
Kate stepped back as if to insulate herself from the conflict. Not me. I leaned in. “Funny that he’d invite Magdalen to his office if he thought she was a murderer. The killer had to get awfully close to him to do the deed. I know I wouldn’t risk it.”
Kate’s complexion turned ashen, and she buried her face in Gomer’s wooly coat. Her reaction wasn’t lost on Rolf.
“What’s the matter, Kate, real life too tough for you? Smarten up. Get your nose out of a book for a change.”
I suddenly recalled something. On that awful day, it was Kate who’d discovered Magdalen standing over the corpse of Dr. Tully. That grim scene could permanently scar the hardiest soul.
Naturally Rolf was impervious to anyone’s finer feelings and plowed on with his narrative. “I figure it this way. Jethro wanted to be fair to her. Give her a chance to explain things. Come on, the old doll is over eighty. All she had to do was pretend to show him something, lean over his desk, and bam!” Rolf made a sickening motion across his throat and chortled. “Even vegetarians know how to use a steak knife.”
Kate mustered her strength and faced him. “I was there, remember? Magdalen’s shirtwaist was spotless. Unlikely if she’d just done such a thing. The papers on his desk were soaked in blood. If I hadn’t been wearing an apron, I would have been drenched too.” She shuddered. “Plus the murder weapon wasn’t a steak knife. It was a broken Pellegrino bottle, or some kind of sharp implement.”
“Details, details,” Rolf said airily. “That’s the cops’ job. ’Course they wouldn’t tell me anything. Betcha that cute little sheriff knows what’s what. Right, Perri? Your guy seems pretty close to her. Ask him.”
I clenched my hands behind my back. Better that than using them to strangle the miscreant in front of me. Fortunately at that moment the tinkling of a bell summoned us to the main living room. Time for part two of the Therapy Dog program to begin. I motioned to Keats and Poe before heading toward the side door to allow them to answer the call of nature. That landed me up close and personal with none other than Nurse Edgar.
Chapter 25
Edgar said nothing. He made no threatening gestures. But the mere sight of that man-mountain was enough to give me pause. I backed up and immediately went into fight-or-flight mode. Oddly enough, Keats and Poe neither bristled nor growled. Their keen instincts for danger had saved my bacon more than once, but today they were detached and untroubled. Truth be told, their dignity went flying out the window. My brave war dogs wagged their tails and beamed joyous doggy smiles at Edgar. Given the chance, they might have rolled over and begged for a tummy rub from the behemoth. I watched in awe as his features lightened, and he mumbled a soft, barely audible greeting to them. With great difficulty I collected myself and spoke.
“I’m sorry. This is totally unlike them. They’re usually reserved with strangers.”
Edgar flashed a smile that transformed his entire being. It was magical, like an outtake from Beauty and the Beast. “No problem. I love dogs and they sense that.”
I introduced myself again, determined to capitalize upon this era of good feeling. “I’m sorry about Dr. Tully. I understand he was your friend.”
The big man’s face darkened. “Jethro asked me to come here and help out. We’d been friends since grade school. More like brothers.”
I shook my head and tsk-tsked. “Such a charming man. I wouldn’t have guessed he had an enemy in the world.”
Nurse Edgar folded his arms in front of his sizable bulk and glowered at me. “He didn’t.”
In view of Dr. Tully’s ghastly end that statement was either palpably false or delusional. “Someone killed him,” I said. “That wasn’t a friendly act.”
Edgar jabbed a meaty finger my way. “Jethro had one glaring fault, Ms. Morgan, one that you seem to share. He was nosy. Arrogant and nosy. Thought he could outfox the cops and solve any crime. He was wrong and it cost him his life.” Edgar made a kissing sound to the dogs and, with surprising grace for such a big man, pivoted toward the entryway. “Learn from his mistake and mind your own business.”
* * * *
I admit it. That encounter shook me to my socks. I spent a moment collecting my thoughts, trying in vain to make sense of Nurse Edgar. Was he the malevolent presence I had imagined or merely a quiet, reclusive man trapped in a giant’s body? Either way he was no one to trifle with. I knew Babette would have plenty to say about that and she didn’t disappoint. As the group reassembled, she hustled toward me with Clara and Prospero in tow and a smug smile wreathing her face.
“Perri, get over here pronto,” she said in a stage whisper. Babette possessed many gifts, but subtlety was not in her skill set. “Wait ’til you hear what I found out.” Her big moment was delayed by the sudden arrival of Joan Fergueson, who stepped up to the microphone and began the program. I hadn’t seen her since the most recent tragedy and the change in her appearance was startling. She’d shed the mantle of authority that enveloped her like a shroud in favor of an approachable, dare I say human persona—less Dr. Fergueson and much more Joan. Even her attire suggested something new, a change from the official unifo
rm she favored. The formal skirted suit had been banished, replaced by a twinset—probably cashmere—in a cheery shade of yellow, accompanied by nicely cut slacks. A lovely triple string of matched pearls completed the ensemble. Even more astounding was her wide, inviting smile. I’d never seen the woman smile before. Wasn’t sure she was even capable of it. Babette narrowed her eyes and whispered, “What the…?” She was in the presence of ladies, most of them quite elderly, so she wisely stopped there.
“I’m so glad you all came here today,” Joan said. “We’ve suffered two grievous losses recently, but remember this. The Falls community is a family and we’re here to support each other.”
Someone in the back of the room called out, “Three losses. Don’t forget Sara Whitman.” Several in the audience nodded and at least one clapped.
Nothing dented the composure of Dr. Fergueson. I had to admit that in view of the circumstances it was impressive.
“Of course,” she said. “We mourn every loss in our little community.” She gestured toward our group. “These kind volunteers and their dogs are part of our support system. I urge you to take full advantage of it.”
“Utter balderdash!” Babette hissed in a stage whisper. “It’s all about the money.” Fortunately her back was turned my way, blocking the sound from reaching anyone else. We took our places and formed a circle, ready to start the day’s entertainment portion. Joan introduced us and our dogs individually and gave a capsule biography of each. When it was my turn, she first mentioned the wartime service of Keats and Poe. That earned a spirited round of applause from the audience and a bow from my dogs. Against my better instincts I started to warm up to the good doctor. Perhaps I’d misjudged her. Praising my dogs earned anyone extra points in my ledger. That warmth ended when she mentioned my involvement as a “detective.” Naturally that inspired Babette to chime right in. She stepped out to the middle of the circle and patted Joan Fergueson’s shoulder.
“You are so right! Perri tracked down two murderers. Almost got killed too.” Babette ducked her head in an attempt at faux modesty. “’Course I helped her a bit. Clara too. And we won’t even mention Wing Pruett’s part in the whole shebang.” That name excited a murmur among the audience. As Irene later pointed out, they might be old, but they weren’t oblivious to a handsome man. I held my breath, hoping against hope that my pal would say no more. Naturally, being Babette, she didn’t stop there. “Plus, I want y’all to know that Perri and I are on the case again. We won’t let Magdalen Melmoth hang for somebody else’s crimes. Count on it!”
No more happy talk from Joan Fergueson after that bombshell. Now she resembled an ice sculpture with facial features firmly frozen in place. Someone on my right side gave a sharp intake of breath and Rolf Hart issued a derisive hoot. As I watched the audience, I realized that the residents were thrilled, not traumatized, by the news.
Irene clapped her hands and trilled, “Oh, how exciting! It’s like an episode of Murder, She Wrote with dogs!” Others joined in a hearty round of applause and offered their help and suggestions. In all, the incident was a disaster rivaling that of the Titanic. I closed my eyes, imagining the reactions of Pruett and especially Sheriff Aleita to our involvement. Amateur sleuths—even ones with a good track record— were the bane of law enforcement professions. I longed to slink away, but that would have caused an even bigger scene. Besides, blocking the main exit was the bulky form of Nurse Edgar, whose folded arms and scowl rivaled that of Zeus at his most unpleasant. No thunderbolts were hurled, but Edgar made no secret of his reaction.
One thing I recalled from my military experience proved to be our salvation. Someone—Sun Tzu, I think—said that knowing when to fight and when not to fight were both critical. This was definitely the time to brazen things out and go full steam ahead. “We’re ready to begin our program now,” I said with a grin that would shame a Cheshire cat. “Come on. Let the games begin!”
* * * *
We reconvened that evening around the long walnut table in my dining room, sipping my best brandy. Despite the surroundings, it was not a convivial group. Babette and I were joined by Pruett, Micah, and of course our four dogs. Thatcher jumped on the sideboard and sat aloof from the proceedings, judging me every minute and finding me wanting.
“Are you crazy? What were you thinking of?” Wing Pruett sounded more like a stern parent than a beau. Before the scolding escalated, I held out my hand and said, “Stop. Let’s discuss this rationally and calmly.”
Micah, ever the lawyer, went into arbitrator mode. “Perhaps you could explain the context for what happened.”
“Context, phooey!” Babette snarled. “Ask Dr. Joan Fergueson. We were minding our own business, trying to bring joy to a bunch of oldsters, when she blabbered about the murders we’d solved. That set the cat among the pigeons.” Those comments were true enough, but the self-satisfied smirk Babette wore gave the game away.
“God only knows how Aleita will react,” Pruett said. “By implication you made her sound incompetent.”
His defense of the comely cop gave me pause. Why assume I was the guilty party? I expected more of him, perhaps too much. Without acting too sensitive, I had to admit that Pruett had hurt my feelings. Fortunately Babette was spoiling for a tussle with him. She leaped from her chair, marched over, and immediately got into Pruett’s face.
“Listen to yourself! You’d think that sheriff was your main squeeze instead of Perri. Besides, what has that crackerjack cop done besides measure Magdalen Melmoth for a noose? Huh? Take off the blinders, buster.”
Pruett gave Babette a long, cool stare as the temperature in the room ratcheted up. Then he leaned back and laughed, a hearty belly laugh that immediately dispelled the tension. He shrugged and turned to his friend.
“See, Micah, I told you they were feisty. No one bullies these two ladies without paying a price.”
I gave everyone refills while Babette distributed a platter of jalapeño poppers and fried calamari. “Good and hot,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Help cool the passions around here. But not too much, I hope.”
Frankly I shared that hope. Pruett and I had our own special brand of binding arbitration that I was eager to invoke.
Micah capitalized on the momentary lull and dipped a toe into the conversation. “Let’s pool our information. Why not tell us what you two found out today? Then we can add our two cents. Sound right, Wing?”
Between crunches of calamari, Pruett nodded. “Agreed. And forgive me if I misspoke. You two have a knack for getting into scrapes and there’s a murderer on the loose. A ruthless one at that. Guess I was playing the overprotective male again.”
He was singing Babette’s favorite tune. She gave both men a dimpled smile and turned on the feminine wiles. “No need to explain, boys. It feels good to know you’re watchin’ out for us. Doesn’t it, Perri?”
My response was half-hearted at best, closer to a grimace than a grin. Better and safer to stick to a factual narrative. I started with a crowd pleaser: my encounter with Nurse Edgar. The reaction from all parties was explosive to say the least.
“You were alone with that varmint?” Babette shrilled. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Micah’s response was more temperate. “He’s awfully imposing, Perri. Not someone to tangle with.”
Pruett was uncharacteristically silent. That made me suspicious. He was hiding something and I intended to wring it out of him by any means necessary.
“Okay,” I said. “Out with it. Edgar said he was Dr. Tully’s friend. What did Aleita find out?”
“Naturally she checked him out immediately,” Pruett said. “I mean, a guy like that is typecast as a villain. Turns out he told you the truth. Edgar is not only a legitimate nurse practitioner, he’s also an ex-deputy sheriff from California and a licensed private eye.”
Babette’s eyes bugged out. “You’re kidding. That hulk a PI?” I could tell th
at her image of a svelte, smoldering inquiry agent had been dealt a lethal blow.
“So,” Micah said, “was Edgar on the case, whatever the case may be?”
“Yep. Tully called him in after Nurse Ross died, but he didn’t get far. Seems the good doctor thought someone was planning to victimize one or more of the residents. No names were mentioned. Tully asked him to nose around and to keep his eyes and ears open. They never got a chance to thrash out the issues.”
Once again I marveled at the superior instincts of my dogs. Edgar had frightened me, but Keats and Poe knew that he posed no threat to anyone except the murderer. Score one for canine intuition versus judging a book by its cover. My bad.
Meanwhile Babette was getting impatient, ready to burst at the seams. I knew how my BFF reacted under stress and it wasn’t pretty. Volcanic was more like it. A timely intervention was in all of our best interests.
“I guess you’re ready for me now,” she said. Those downcast eyes and the humble act didn’t fool me for a second. My pal had plenty of tidbits to share. She explained her assignment in excruciating detail, with special emphasis on the role of Clara and Prospero. “I swear, y’all, that pup was a superstar. Those ladies were like a bunch of groupies hanging on him. I peeled them like a grape.”
“But what did you find out?” Pruett asked. His store of patience had worn thin some time before. He folded his arms, ignoring Babette’s massive frown.
“Spoilsport,” she groused. “Okay. Some of this is old news, but it bears repeating. Most of them thought Magdalen put on airs and made stuff up. Stuck up, someone said. Nuts, another said.”
That puzzled me. “They knew about the Oscar Wilde thing?”
“Of course.” Babette snorted. “Honey, nothin’ stays secret in a place like that. Those old tabbies have all day to gossip and most of them are still pretty sharp. Mags was always dropping hints about the manuscript, stuff like that. It didn’t take a genius to figure out her game.”