Authors: Maggie Toussaint
“You said there was a problem with my taxes?”
I hadn’t exactly said that. I’d hinted that was the case when I told his secretary that the mayor might have a visit by the IRS unless I got something straightened out immediately.
“I’ve been reviewing the new tax laws and believe we should rethink our strategy on the tax forms I filled out for Valley Land Company.” I pulled out a large folder from my briefcase. I hoped it didn’t come down to me opening the folder because I had nothing new to show him.
I was here on a fact-finding mission, hoping that I wouldn’t piss off my largest client or get killed. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to review the assets of the corporation.”
The mayor pounded his fist on his desk. “Dammit.”
I flinched and gritted my teeth. I’d never known Darnell Reynolds to punch anything. Bugs like him usually scurried for cover when detected. There might be more depth to Darnell than I thought. “If this isn’t a good time I could come back later.”
Darnell circled behind me to close the door. I heard him click the lock. Every hair on my neck snapped to attention.
This was it.
I’d triggered the rage of a homicidal maniac and I was next on his hit list. I should have told my daughters I loved them this morning before I dropped them off at school.
I stood up, not wanting to have him lurking behind me. If he was going to shoot me, I wanted to see it coming. Daddy had always said that the best strategy for any situation was to have a good offense. I couldn’t exactly dodge a bullet, but I could talk my way out of almost anything.
When I turned, it was to see Darnell resting his florid face in his hands. The bright color ran from the peak of his balding head down into his white shirt collar. Was he going to murder me with his tears? I hadn’t expected this reaction.
A twinge of sympathy tugged at my heart. “Darnell? You okay?”
“No. I’m not okay. I was stupid enough to go into business with Dudley and it’s going to ruin me.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, hoping to draw him out. Folks told their accountants the oddest things. This past tax season, a woman had insisted that her vacation to Saint Thomas in the Virgin Islands was a religious pilgrimage. Another man tried to write off his wife’s car as a company vehicle and she didn’t even work for his company. I couldn’t wait to hear Darnell’s story.
“My life is unraveling and I can’t do a thing about it. I won’t be needing an accountant in prison, Cleo.”
I wished I had thought of bringing along a tape player. If the mayor confessed to the murders, I’d like to have it on tape so that Britt Radcliff wouldn’t think I had made up this story. “It can’t be that bad.”
Darnell clutched his heart the way Mama did when she had heart palpitations. I knew what to do. I steered him to his desk chair and handed him a glass of water.
“You’re going to think I’m a foolish old man.”
“I don’t know what to think, but I’m going to call nine one one if you keep grabbing your heart.”
“Don’t call anyone.”
I’d known Darnell Reynolds for years. Daddy and I had golfed with him on occasion. Darnell thought nothing of improving his lie when no one was looking and he always gave himself putts.
I didn’t have any trouble imagining him planting a bullet in Dudley’s head. “Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”
Darnell sipped his water and gradually his flush subsided. “What’s wrong is that Dudley made promises that I can’t keep. When this comes out I’m going to be ruined.”
“Promises?”
Darnell groaned. “He told Robert Joy the land developer that everything was greased for White Rock. That the mayor was in his pocket. That all the approvals he needed for annexation were a sure thing.”
Dudley and his high financing. I wondered how much money Dudley made on this deal and where that money went. “Ouch.”
“More than ouch. Once this becomes common knowledge, I won’t have a job.”
“I heard that you wanted out of the White Rock deal.”
“I don’t have any choice. I never promised Dudley or Robert Joy a single thing. I wanted my name kept out of this. That’s why I formed the land corporation.”
In Hogan’s Glen, the procedure was for the town council to vote on matters that affected the community and the mayor had the deciding vote on the council. “How were you going to handle voting on the annexation?”
“I planned to abstain from the process. Other council members have done that in the past when there was a conflict of interest. There’s never been any problem with that before, but Robert Joy is threatening to ruin me if I don’t cooperate. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”
It all clicked for me at that moment. Darnell wanted to make money on the land deal but he wanted to be mayor more. With Dudley’s assurances about the annexation being a sure thing, Robert Joy had already invested in land grading, surveying, and promotional materials.
Without the annexation, it was doubtful that more than a dozen or so homes could be built on that thirty-acre spread. Worse, the cushy profit margin for the developer disappeared. Those colorful advertisements hadn’t come cheap. Robert Joy needed to recoup his investment on this project.
At last, I was in my element. I had a nose like a bloodhound when it came to following the money.
My heart wanted Darnell to be guilty of murder, but he was my client. It was to my advantage that he stay out of jail. “Have you spoken to Scott Michaels?”
“Hell no. I didn’t want the city attorney involved.”
“It’s time to get him involved. Once you go on record with documentation about your intent to recuse yourself from the annexation vote, then you don’t have to worry about Robert Joy.”
Darnell’s eyes flooded with relief. “It can’t be that simple.”
“Sometimes the simplest answers are the best.”
“What about White Rock?”
“Annexation or not, you own the property. Worst case, you now own a farm, Mr. Mayor.”
“What about my tax problem?”
His tax problem was a figment of my imagination. “Let’s leave things as they are for now and revisit the new tax laws when everything else calms down.”
I collected my briefcase and let myself out the door. Darnell had gotten caught up in one of Dudley’s shell games. Darnell was upset about his reputation being ruined and losing his job, but was he upset enough to murder someone? I believed he was capable of killing and he certainly had a motive to kill Dudley.
If I believed the murders were about money, then I needed to follow the trail of the money. In the case of the White Rock development, the trail wasn’t clear.
The mayor had plenty of money. The developer wanted money. The dead banker used to have money. Who had the money now?
I didn’t have any new ideas, so I went back to the beginning and looked at everything with fresh eyes. Of all the suspects on my list, there was one I wanted to be guilty. I’d start with her alibi for Dudley’s murder.
Chapter 20
With a killer on the loose and a town full of suspects, I didn’t feel I could spare time for my Ladies Golf League this week. The police were no nearer an arrest than they had been last week. I had people to investigate, and best of all, Mama was busy organizing a church social this morning.
Montclair Retirement Center was a veritable town unto itself, a cluster of graciously designed three story buildings. Sweeping archways dominated the covered walks linking the complex. Rigidly pruned evergreens formed the backdrop for a riot of purple and yellow pansies lining the concrete sidewalks.
I signed a logbook, registering myself as an Official Visitor, while the youthful receptionist called the business office to see if someone was available to talk to me. Baby blue dominated the richly patterned carpet, the walls, and the upholstered furniture. Very soothing, even for someone as nervous as I was today.
I had so many possible murder suspects now that it would be a relief to remove someone from my personal suspect list. I was fairly certain this was a wild-goose chase, but my nagging conscience wouldn’t let me overlook Denise Wonder Boobs.
The only person I’d completely ruled out as a killer was Violet Cooper, Jasper’s mom, and that was because she couldn’t see. Darnell and Robert Joy and Ed Monday were on my suspect list. Jasper could have done it, and if I was really being honest, Rafe could have done it too.
Charlie and Jonette and Bitsy were on the police department’s suspect list. I didn’t think Jonette or Bitsy did it, and I didn’t want to visit Charlie in prison. So I had to find someone else to take the heat off these official suspects.
“Your mother is interested in Montclair?” Dr. Brinkley asked when I was seated in his pale-blue office. Montclair’s head administrator had a gentle, jovial demeanor that put me in mind of Santa Claus.
Mama was now, whether she knew it or not. I needed a cover story so that I could verify Denise’s presence here the night of Dudley’s murder. I crossed my fingers and hoped God wouldn’t fry me on the spot. “Mama is increasingly isolated as she ages. A place like Montclair with an activities program would put that spark back in her eyes.”
Dr. Brinkley nodded enthusiastically and handed me a glossy folder. “Our dynamic program director gets everyone involved in activities.”
The thought of living in a place where I didn’t have to cook, with on-site facilities for haircuts and church, with a heated indoor pool and exercise room, along with a craft room and a quilting room seemed to be Paradise on earth.
“One of the things that led me to make a visit without Mama is that I’m concerned about security. How do you protect the elderly against outside threats?”
Dr. Brinkley puffed up with pride. “Our check-in procedure restricts entry into the residential area. Visitors sign our logbook. Then the receptionist cross-checks the name with our residents’ approved lists before letting them through the locked exterior door. Each resident has a locked suite with no exterior entrances.”
The logbook was the key. If I could look through the sign-in log I should see Denise’s signature for the day of and the day after Dudley’s murder. “Do any people move out because they don’t like it here?”
“Our residents tend to stay put. All of our floors are secure and handicap accessible.” Dr. Brinkley gestured towards a framed picture hanging on the wall. The picture was a schematic drawing of the facility floor plan with names penned in each apartment.
I stood and perused the wall schematic with great interest. Sure enough, Denise’s mother, Louise Wagner, lived in a first-floor apartment. There were only two vacancies in the entire facility. “How much do these suites go for?”
Dr. Brinkley stood and motioned me towards the door. “The fee schedule is outlined in the folder I gave you. Why don’t I show you around and you can get a feel for Montclair?”
By the time the tour was over, I wanted to sign myself in and never move out. I thanked Dr. Brinkley for the tour, “accidentally” knocked the logbook off the wooden stand, then quickly bent to retrieve it.
I flipped through the pages until I saw Denise’s squiggly signature. She’d signed in at seven p.m. the evening of Dudley’s murder and signed out at seven a.m. the next day. Disappointment bit me hard on the butt. I’d hoped to snoop around and find something to incriminate Denise and all I’d done was wasted my Wednesday morning.
I lifted the logbook to its stand. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“No problem, Mrs. Jones,” Dr. Brinkley said with practiced ease. “Come back, and bring your mother with you. She’ll love it here.”
Fat chance of that. Mama wanted to live at home and nowhere else. It wouldn’t matter if this place was the Taj Mahal or some other wonder of the world.
When I returned to my office, I tossed the glossy Montclair packet on my desk and got back to work. I didn’t give the retirement home another thought until Mama fanned the colorful pages past my face that afternoon.
“What’s this?” Mama waved the packet like a matador signaling a bull. “Are you trying to get rid of me? I won’t go in an old folks home. I’m not old.” Mama made a big show of dropping the information into the trash can. The packet hit bottom with a loud thwack.
Which should have tipped me off that she was seriously pissed. Mama lives to recycle. Ordinarily, she would no more toss a piece of paper directly in the trash than she would purposefully dismember her grandchildren.
Her refusal to consider Montclair annoyed me. Those wide carpeted hallways, the soothing music, the oversize watercolors on the walls, and the yummy smells from the cafeteria made a nice package. “It’s a wonderful place, Mama. You should take a look at it so you know what’s available.”
Mama got down in my face and snarled at me. “What’s out there is a bunch of old folks waiting to die. There’s nothing at Montclair that I want. All I need is right here in this house.”
I had no plans to stick Mama anywhere, but it irked me that she wouldn’t even look at the materials. I grabbed the packet out of the trash and showed her the glossy pictures inside. “See how lovely this is? Activities. A pool. Great food.”
Mama rolled her eyes and tapped her foot impatiently. “If I added one more activity to my life I couldn’t think straight. Why would I want to live thirty minutes away when my life is here in Hogan’s Glen? Besides, I don’t have any intention of moving into an old folks home.”
“It’s not an old folks home.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Montclair is a Retirement Center. That means there are all kinds of fun programs out there and I bet it’s affordable too.” I thumbed through the pages until I found the price list, tucked way in the back of the stack.
I skimmed the info until I found the bottom line. My mouth fell open. The price for the living quarters started at two thousand dollars a month. Holy cow.
If we sold this house and the girls and I lived in the Gray Beast, I could keep Mama at Montclair for a few years, but that would be it.
“What?” Mama asked, her brown eyes smoldering embers of coal.
“This place is expensive. How do people afford it?”
“Who cares?” Mama said. “I won’t be stuck in the middle of nowhere with someone else thinking up make-work for me to do. My life is here, and I’ll thank you to quit interfering in it.”
I pointed to the price list. “When folks buy into this community, they don’t get their money back. In addition, they pay a monthly rent to live there. This is not a good investment. Who would throw such massive amounts of money away?”
“Lots of folks,” Mama said. “Particularly if it got unwanted relatives off their hands.”
Mama’s caustic tone ate at my heart. Did she think I didn’t want her? I rushed around my desk and hugged her. “You’re not unwanted, Mama. The girls and I need you here. Montclair appealed to me. If it weren’t for the expense, I wouldn’t mind living there.”
Mama looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but then she held me close. “These places don’t take children. Are you gonna hand your girls over to Charlie while you make potholders for the rest of your days?”
“Hell no. If I can’t afford Montclair for you, I sure can’t afford it for me, even if I met the minimum age requirements, which I don’t. The concept just appealed to me. Solitude with comradery, exercise without athleticism, meals without having to cook, that sort of thing.”
Mama soothed the hair back from my face and kissed my forehead. “Honey, you don’t need to move into a retirement home for that, you just need a vacation. That’s all.”
“Right.” A vacation wasn’t likely, not when I was trying to keep Jonette, Bitsy, and Charlie out of jail, not to mention trying to build up my client base. Who would do my work if I took time off?
“I mean it. A vacation would do you a world of good. You ought to take Jonette and go up to Berkley Springs. Soaking in that mineral water and getting a massage or two would do wonders for you.”
So would getting laid, but I didn’t see any help for that either. I wasn’t about to run off and leave Mama in charge of the girls for a long weekend. You had to stay right on top of teenagers or they ran all over you.
I wasn’t sure Mama still had the right stuff anymore. I had visions of her being tied to a kitchen chair and stuffed in the coat closet as Charla and Lexy’s friends drank all the booze in the house, played Russian Roulette with the guns under my bed, and tore up the furniture.
“I’ll think about it,” I said to placate her.
* * * * *
Britt Radcliff dropped by my office the next day. His sour expression could have sucked the joy out of an amusement park.
“We’ve got to stop meeting this way,” I teased, but Britt didn’t crack a smile. So much for trying to lighten his mood.
Britt flipped open a small notebook pad. “I’ve got Charlie Jones down at the station. He says he was here the night bank guard Bennett Glazier was killed. Is that true?”
I wasn’t keen on it getting around that Charlie had slept over. “It was a one-time thing.”
Did Britt think I was sleeping with Charlie? I flushed with heat. It shouldn’t matter what Britt thought but it did. I wished I could come right out and say that I wasn’t sleeping with my ex, but I didn’t want to broach such a humiliating subject.
“Charlie’s been arrested for Glazier’s murder,” Britt explained. His rigid posture and curt tone implied that this was serious business indeed. “What time did he arrive and depart on the evening of the murder?”
My heart skipped a beat. Charlie, arrested for the bank guard’s murder? I leapt to my feet so that Britt wasn’t looking down at me.
Charlie needed my help. I wasn’t going to spend the next few years taking the girls to prison to visit their father. “He arrived between ten and ten-thirty p.m. I was watching that TV drama where half the program is devoted to cops and the other half is devoted to lawyers. I’d been watching the show for a while, but I wasn’t to the lawyer part yet. Charlie spent the night and he left the next morning to take the girls to school. That time I know for certain. It was a quarter of eight.”
“Any chance he slipped out during the night?”
“It’s possible but extremely unlikely. Dudley’s dog would have heard him moving about the house. If Charlie had been up after we went to our separate beds, I would have known about it.” It was extremely clever of me to have worked the fact that I didn’t sleep with Charlie into the conversation.
Britt scribbled down a few notes on his pad. His stern features were inscrutable. Was my recollection of the evening the same as Charlie’s? “What time did Bennett Glazier die?”
“The medical examiner believes it was after midnight, but there are a few hours’ variance.”
So Charlie might not be off the hook. It was possible he murdered the guard first and then came over to my house. “Do you have any other suspects for Glazier’s murder?”
Britt sighed heavily. “A whole bank full, but the evidence points to Charlie. He accessed files on his bank computer the night of the bank guard’s murder. He didn’t have an alibi for either murder. We have a ballistics match. The same gun was used for both murders.”
My skin prickled. Charlie was in big trouble here. “But you said the evidence pointed to Jonette not so long ago.”
Britt sighed. “Jonette has a solid alibi for the second murder.”
“I can’t believe Charlie killed anyone.”
“Reliable sources confirmed Charlie and Dudley had a heated discussion at the bank on the afternoon of Dudley’s murder. This information didn’t come out until we questioned the bank employees after the second murder.”
Discussion? I doubted it was that civil. Charlie was used to being king in his own domain. Dudley had clearly encroached on Charlie’s territory. “What about?”
Britt looked pained. “Stay out of this. Charlie Jones wasn’t right for you, and it always boggled my mind that you couldn’t see it. Don’t get sucked into his problems.”
I exhaled slowly. Britt didn’t trust Charlie. Unless new evidence came to light, Britt would lock him up and throw away the key. “Charlie used people, but he could be generous and charming.” Why didn’t Britt see that?
“He’s a long way from that person now. Rumor has it his wife’s been sleeping around on him and he’s unhappy about that.”