Murder, She Floats

by Rachael Stapleton

  “Well then, the police divers are headed down now. I guess I’ll know where to find you if I need you, huh?”

  I nodded and began to walk away. Before I knew it I was back at Olivia’s beach. I stripped off the wetsuit and booties and slipped the shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops I’d left on the shore over my swimsuit. Shading my eyes from the sun, I stared out at the to-do that was still happening on the lake. I cringed as I thought of someone’s beautiful body being left to decompose below the lake’s surface. The final resting place for some poor soul, and I had just disturbed them. But my investigative brain wouldn’t turn off. I had so many questions: Had it been an accident or was their foul play? Was it someone I knew? The fact that the body was fully decomposed and now just bones meant what… that he or she had been down there for at least twenty years? Then again, I was sure I’d read somewhere that a body decomposes eight times faster underwater than in a casket which means it could decompose in as few as five years. There were also the critters to consider and the manner in which the person died. Oh, good lord, I needed to get my mind off that dead body and back on to the mystery of the missing coin.

  But what if the two were connected?

  Chapter Eight

  _____________

  T he Bohemian Retirement Community was a combination of small to mid-size cookie cutter homes that surrounded a brightly decorated community living center, where the walls were splashed with vibrant colors like lime green and magenta pink. I for one was pleased that Bohemian Lake was doing its best to keep our seniors lively–it certainly explained Eve. She, on the other hand, had not so lovingly nicknamed the place the crayon compound. She claimed the place stole her friends and held them hostage. She also said it was her duty to set them free, much to the chagrin of the personnel, like my best-friend Rebel.

  Joe Sr. was a resident of the crayon compound.

  “What room is Joe Tate Sr. in, please?” I could hear a faint moaning in the distance, and the electronic chung-chung sound of dead-bolts that was Law & Order’s theme song piping out from the community room.

  The woman behind the counter had the phone tucked under her ear. “Yeah, fifth floor, down the hall, second door on the right.” She waved the visitor’s log at me and returned to her gossip session.

  I was a couple steps down the hall when Helen Patone marched up to me, her expression of concern barely visible under the heavy foundation and pressed powder coating her face. Her mother resided in this place.

  “Penelope, I just heard,” she said, breathless, setting her hand on mine. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “How are you?”

  “Well, I haven’t stumbled over any human remains today,” she replied, her mascara laden eyes growing bigger.

  “Oh. You heard about that already?”

  I took a couple steps forward but she stepped in front of me. “What exactly happened? Do you know who it was?”

  Helen Patone used her mouth as a gossip megaphone in Bohemian Lake. The only reason she wanted details was so that she could share–and distort–the story with everyone else in our tiny town.

  I bit my lip. “Nope. Sorry. I’m afraid I don’t have much to tell you.”

  “Sure, sure,” she said, scooting closer so an elderly couple could pass by.

  “I have to go, Helen,” I said, covering my nose with my hand. I sneezed loudly. “Nice seeing you.”

  “Was it a man or a woman?” she called after me as I pushed past her. An elderly lady with bluish curls eyed both of us suspiciously. “You must have some details. You got eyes, don’t you?”

  “Goodbye, Helen,” I said over my shoulder, stepping inside the elevator and hitting the close button before she could follow.

  Mr. Tate was lying on the bed, a travel book in one hand, Discovery Channel on TV, and a bowl of cookies within reach.

  “Mr. Tate?”

  He glanced over at me, pulling his trifocals farther down his nose. “May I help you?”

  “Mr. Tate, my name is Penelope Trubble. I’m a reporter at the Bohemian Lake Newspaper.”

  Joe set his book down, took off his black semi-rimless glasses, and rubbed his eyes. “What’s a reporter want with an old windbag like me?”

  “The town council is running a contest. They’re offering a prize, ten thousand dollars to the person who finds the fake treasure they planted. I rented some diving equipment from your son and he mentioned that you were the one called in to search for the coin when it was lost. I’d like to write a piece about the original coin that went missing in ’62, but it seems everyone who was there has…” I paused. “Well, to be blunt, they’ve either died or run off.”

  “Run off. Oh, you mean Benjamin.”

  “Yes, Benjamin Baboon. Did you know him?”

  He looked in my direction, a little past my head and to the left. “I sure did, we were very good friends. Pull up a chair, little lady, and I’ll make your ears bleed.”

  I’d never heard that one before. Did I want my ears to bleed? Turns out Ben’s grandfather had been the butler at Caravan Manor and before that he’d been the manor’s lawn maintenance boy. So, he knew where all the bodies were buried. I hoped this phrase wasn’t literal considering what I’d just found.

  “One summer afternoon, Vera Langley sauntered into the Manor with her movie star husband and told the senior Mr. Vianu that she wanted the best accommodations in the Manor–adjoining rooms for a week. Of course, most people make reservations at a resort like the Caravan, but not Mr. & Mrs. Moviestar. Anyway, the resort was almost all booked up and George Walton–who of course you’ll recognize as the coin dealer–was already staying in their most luxurious suite. Needless to say Vera was none too pleased, but she eventually calmed down and settled for the room next to him. As a matter of fact, I was told she became quite friendly with Mr. Walton.”

  “Oh, really. So, you think Vera was having an affair with Mr. Walton?”

  “I have no idea, but Benjamin commented a couple times to me that week that he hardly ever saw Mr. Langley–apparently he was rehearsing with his assistant for an upcoming role.”

  “Assistant, eh? So they were both having affairs.”

  “Not exactly, his assistant was a man–although there was some speculation a few years later when the Langleys divorced. To be honest, I never much paid attention to that Hollywood gossip, but I’m sure it’d be easy enough to find out if he ever… you know, came out, or however you say it these days.”

  “So, let’s say Vera Langley was having an affair with the coin collector because her marriage was a sham. Her story could be true then? She could have found the coin on the floor, only she couldn’t admit to being in his room, correct?”

  “Yes, I guess that could have been how it went down.”

  “Still, it’s so strange that she would have taken it out on the boat with her. I mean, why would anyone go swimming with a coin in their pocket.”

  “Well now, that’s the part I can help you with.”

  I glanced up.

  “I was there the day she lost it. I was giving lessons to one of the men staying there. When we finished up, I hung around.”

  “And?”

  Joe pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “And someone pushed her off that boat. That’s how come she wound up in the lake in her clothes with the coin in her pocket.”

  “Oh my goodness!”

  “I don’t know exactly who it was. I couldn’t really see all that well. I had my goggles on and I was under the water for a bit, but one of the times I surfaced I heard a man threaten her. Looking back, I think maybe he saw her with the coin collector and threatened to broadcast it unless she paid him off. Who knows? Maybe he knew she’d found the coin and wanted her to give it to him. Anyway, she threatened him back–that lady was not one to be trifled with. She said she knew it was him robbing the rooms, and she threatened to call the police.”

  “Robbing the rooms?”

  “Oh, yes, that was a
whole other thing going on at the time. Some of the guests were claiming their valuables had gone missing.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “I saved her, of course. She was fully clothed and sinking like a stone. I snagged her unconscious form, then resuscitated her on the beach. When I asked her who pushed her, she acted like she couldn’t remember what happened. That woman was crazy… crazy like a fox.”

  “What about the man on the boat?”

  “Gone.”

  “So, you’re telling me you never found out who it was that took her out on that boat?”

  “No. One day, I caught her walking on her own in the woods. I thought she was scared, but she turned on me when I asked her what she was doing. After that, I kept my distance from her. I had the feeling she was the kind of person who would turn on you to save her own skin.”

  “What happened to your friend, Benjamin Baboon?”

  “You know, that’s the part that baffles me. Some people said it was him stealing from the guests. I even wondered for a time if it had been him I’d seen arguing with Vera on the boat, but I just couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea. I mean, the man I knew would never have just run off and left his family like that. I’m not saying he was an angel... times were tough and sometimes good men did bad things to make ends meet. But Benjamin loved his family. He surely would have taken them with him.”

  “Really. Are you saying you think he was murdered for what he knew?”

  Joe inhaled sharply. “I… I don’t know… I guess maybe I do think that’s a possibility, although I’ve never told anyone that.”

  “Do you know what I just found at the bottom of the lake, Joe?”

  “What?”

  “Bones.”

  Joe closed his eyes and I wondered if I’d said too much. He was an old man and his health wasn’t great.

  “I’m sorry, Joe–me and my big mouth. I shouldn’t have said that.” And to think I’d once taken a bereavement training course. I guess this is why I failed being a cop. I cleared my throat. “It’s just that I’m still a little shaken up, but of course it’s an open investigation and we don’t know anything, so I shouldn’t be talking to anyone about this.”

  He looked up at me and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Penny. Ben went missing in 1962–that was fifty-five years ago. I don’t think there would even be bones at this point. Do you?”

  “I don’t know. To be honest, I came here instead of researching it. I think I wanted to avoid obsessing over it for the moment.”

  “It does make me wonder though—”

  “About what?” I blurted, cutting him off.

  “Well, if it’s not Benjamin down there, who is it?”

  “That’s a good question, Mr. Tate. Mind if I use it all in the article?”

  “Sure, but would you mind not including that last part about the foul play? I don’t want to upset the Baboon family by insinuating he was murdered,” he said, smiling at me. “It’s not fair to upset them after so many years.”

  “Of course.” I shook Joe’s hand and left the room. I was so lost in thought on my way out of the Retirement Center that I didn’t realize anyone was following me.

  “Penelope?” boomed the familiar voice.

  I turned around as Rebel’s husband stepped forward. He still looked the same; he was about six foot one, swarthy-skinned. His hair was dark, shaggy, only a few more threads of gray, and his beard was the kind that framed his mouth.

  “Hey, Leif. How are you? You visiting that pretty wife of yours?”

  He looked at me, confused, and then nodded. “I was going to take her to lunch but she can’t go.”

  I shook my head. “It happens.”

  “Did I see you coming out of Old Man Tate’s room?”

  I nodded. “I was just interviewing him for a story about the nickel. Did you know he was there the day that Vera woman went overboard? He says someone pushed her.”

  Leif laughed. “Yeah, well you should hear the stories Rebel tells me. I wouldn’t quite trust anything these nutballs say. They’re not exactly the most trustworthy of sources, if you know what I mean.” Leif maid a circling motion around his ear with his finger. “Besides, everyone knows it was Baboon Sr. who ran off with the coin.”

  My spine stiffened. “Well, that’s not what Joe thinks, and he seemed quite lucid to me and I believe him. Anyway, say hi to Rebel for me. I’ve got an article to write.”

  Chapter Nine

  _____________

  O utside the retirement home, I walked briskly down Main Street to the newspaper. The town was buzzing with traffic–like a pack of thirsty mosquitoes. Leif’s obnoxious laugh echoed in my head. I could not understand what Rebel saw in that oaf. He was such a small-minded arrogant fool. Oh well, time to forget about him. I had work to do.

  Inside the office, the smell of old paper and sandalwood incense greeted me like a long-lost friend. I marched straight to my laptop, booted it up, and found the article I had started on the 1913 Liberty Head nickel coin. I added some angles from my interview with Joe without betraying his theory that Benjamin Baboon had been murdered for his knowledge–that was something I wanted to look into for myself before announcing it to the world. I wrote another small piece on the bones I’d found in the lake, proofread both articles until I was satisfied they were error-free, and sent them off to Dad.

  Then it occurred to me what finding a dead man’s bones was going to do to Nana’s business, and I felt the need to warn her. I drove right up to the manor and parked in the circle drive. It wasn’t meant for permanent parking but I was in a hurry–it was almost six and I had a date with my bestie. The reception desk was empty for once, although there was a group of five or six people sitting in the foyer, sipping what looked to be iced tea. I nodded at them like I too was a guest, and wandered past.

  I walked out of the front sitting room and into the dining room. The table that dominated the dining space could seat twenty people comfortably, and there was still area to spare. The Vianus had placed antique furniture in the corners, and the curtains floating on the light breeze looked handmade. Fresh daisies and snapdragons were scattered in vases around the room.

  The parlour was empty but I heard chatter up the stairs. I hurried to find Nana, but I needn’t have bothered. The voices belonged to some Gypsy Caravan Manor guests who ignored me as they walked past.

  The steps led to the open-area landing of the second floor. I could go left or right off the stairs, and after a second’s pause decided to go left. Down the hallway were eight doors, four on each side, and I guessed they all led to bedrooms or suites. I walked around a rotunda of books and recognized it as the bookcase that led into a secret passage Dani had taken me through as a child. It sounded like there were voices coming from the passage behind the books, so I hurried around the corner of the hall and returned only when I’d heard the mystery guests emerge from the passage.

  “...the rocks must be goddamn invisible if they’re in that room, because I’ve— Penelope?” The male voice switched from exasperated to dangerously annoyed.

  I kept walking on by. Unfortunately it was the only way out besides the passage.

  “What’re you doing here, Penelope?”

  I pushed my hair behind my ears and turned. It was Midnight Molester, his sharp eyebrows drawn together in a V over his dark, angry eyes.

  “Hi, Ben.” He was decked out in tobacco colored shorts, a grey tank, and the same hi-top shoes he wore after he had accosted me the night before. Apparently he hadn’t gone far after that encounter. He didn’t look much happier than he had when I’d last seen him, either. I made a weak attempt at a joke. “No room at the parents’, huh?”

  He scowled at me and then was pushed aside by a heavily jeweled hand. “You are so rude, Benny Boo! My goodness! You need to introduce me.” The hand was followed by an intense brunette with a heavy nasal pinch, probably in her late twenties, judging by the straight bang and glasses with no lenses. She looked at me. �
��Hi. You staying here?”

  I smiled back at her and held out my hand. “Nope, I live up the road. You a friend of Benny Boo’s?”

  She rolled her eyes in an ‘unfortunately’ kind of way and shook my hand. “I see you’re a cheeky monkey. I’m Samantha Walton. Who’re you?”

  I felt a weird jolt of déjà vu. Walton. The last name of the coin collector who had owned the 1913 Liberty Head nickel many years earlier. “Penelope Trubble.”

  She smiled, revealing a Kylie cosmetics signature mauve lipstick fleck on her teeth. “Trubble? No kidding. Is that like Austin Powers? Danger is my middle name.”

  I faked a smile. I was used to the name teasing. “You from around here?”

  “Nope. Ben dragged me out here for a little vacation. Aren’t we lucky that we found this place?”

  Luck, indeed. “So, are you related to George Walton–the coin collector?”

  “Oh, no—”

  Before Samantha could finish, Ben grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall. Before he went down the stairs, he turned to glare at me. “After you.”

  “I’m staying. I need to find Nana. Have you seen her yet today?”

  He released Samantha’s hand, and I could see the white marks his grip had made on her skin. He strode back toward me and leaned down so he was nose to nose with me. “Nana’s out with the other Vianu bitches. What happened to you, anyway? You look like a drowned rat.”

  “None of your concern unless you’ve been dropping dead bodies into the lake.” I walked the rest of the way down the hall and turned back to him after reaching the second step. “Oh, and by the way, you should call Kaitlyn. She paid me a visit after you did the other night.”

  He opened his mouth to say something else, but instead stomped forward and attempted to push past me down the stairs. After the elbow to the ribs the other day, I was ready for him. I stuck out my foot just as he did and he stumbled down the next two stairs.