Amy Patricia Meade - Marjorie McClelland 02 - Ghost of a Chance (5 page)

Mrs. Patterson followed his line of vision. “My goodness, you’re
right. She has gone all googly-eyed.”

“Creighton!” Marjorie cried when she was within arm’s distance.
“Creighton, I need you”

For three months he had longed to hear those words. The setting
wasn’t quite as he had anticipated, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He opened his arms wide. “Yes, darling?”

She stopped just short of his embrace and endeavored to catch
her breath. “Dr. Heller’s lab… ” she gasped.

His blue eyes narrowed. “Hmm, `Dr. Heller’s lab’ Is that like `Alexander’s Ragtime Band?’ If it is, it might be helpful if you hum a
few bars.”

“Stop goofing around. This is important. I might have found
some evidence in the Alfred Nussbaum case.”

“Ohhh, the Alfred Nussbaum case,” he sang in mock understanding. He shrugged at Mrs. Patterson before asking, blindly, “Who’s
Alfred Nussbaum?”

“The man on the Ferris wheel,” Marjorie replied impatiently.

“And you’ve discovered something related to his death?”

“That’s right.”

“I see,” he stated. “Very interesting. Just one thing confuses me
though: who is Dr. Heller?”

Marjorie clicked her tongue in exasperation. “Really, Creighton,
you must try and keep up. Dr. Heller is the coroner examining Alfred Nussbaum. I need you to drive me over to his lab, so I can talk
to him.”

“The coroner? You’re asking me to take you to the morgue?”

“That’s precisely what I’m asking.”

“Marjorie,” Mrs. Patterson chastised. “The morgue? What would
your father say if he were alive?”

“He’d probably congratulate me,” she averred. “You know how
Dad enjoyed a good riddle.”

“Might I ask you something?” Creighton ventured. “Why do you
want to talk to Dr. Heller when you possess influence over a certain
member of the Hartford County Police Department?”

“Robert’s too busy to listen to a word I say.”

“That’s ridiculous. You just got engaged. He should be giving
you his undivided attention.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Patterson chimed in. “If he’s like this now, imagine
what he’ll be like after the wedding.”

Marjorie pulled a face. “True, but he is awfully busy. He’ll learn
to listen to me eventually. Especially when he finds out I’m usually
right.”

Creighton cleared his throat.

“What? I’m not usually right?”

“When it comes to murder,” he answered evasively.

She smiled radiantly. “Then you’ll take me to the lab?”

“That depends. What are you so keen on discussing with Dr.
Heller?”

“A bunch of things. First, Nussbaum was on the Ferris wheel
by himself, which, in itself, is very strange. A man wouldn’t normally go on a ride like that by himself. With a child or sweetheart,
maybe. But alone? Not likely.”

“So, he lived locally, had no one to ride with and still wanted to
have fun. Not a big deal.”

“But he wasn’t a local, Creighton. He was from Boston. What
was he doing here?”

“Just passing through?” the Englishman offered.

“I doubt it. Then there’s the way Nussbaum died. Robert’s convinced that he suffered a heart attack while the Ferris wheel was
in motion. But Mrs. Schutt described Nussbaum, not as sickly, but
agitated and anxious before he boarded the ride. Why? Was he already feeling ill, or was there some other reason? And, if Nussbaum
fell ill in the compartment as Robert assumes he did, why didn’t he
try to summon help? He may have been too weak to yell, but the
cars are completely open. All he needed to do was turn around and
gesture to the people in the car behind him, but he didn’t. In fact,
Mrs. Schutt claims that when she stopped the ride to let him off, he
was seated in the upright position, face forward and eyes staring
straight ahead, as though he were paralyzed.”

Creighton stared at her pensively. “You have some good questions there, but I’m sure there are logical explanations for all of
them. Did Dr. Heller say anything before he left?”

“Only that he thought it was a heart attack,” Marjorie replied
reluctantly.

“Then it sounds to me as though you’re grasping at straws. People
do die from things other than murder, Marjorie. You can’t live your
life looking for wrongdoing around every corner. Pretty soon, you
won’t be able to watch a ball game without wondering if the bat was
ever used to bludgeon someone to death.” He grasped her shoulders
and stated slowly: “Take it from me-sometimes a baseball bat is just
a baseball bat.”

“But,” she countered with a gleam in her eye, “as my great-uncle
Clancy could tell you, sometimes it’s a shillelagh.”

“I’m not going to argue with your great-uncle. With a name like
Clancy, I’m sure he knows much more about shillelaghs than I ever
will. However, I do know a thing or two about evidence, and yours
is entirely circumstantial. Dr. Heller is a scientist; he deals with cold,
hard facts, not speculation and conjecture. The only thing that interests him is physical proof, and if you can’t provide any, I’m afraid
he won’t pay any more attention to you than Jameson did.”

“And what if I show him this?” Marjorie smugly extracted a
wadded handkerchief from her purse and opened it. There, in the
middle of the starched white linen lay a tiny, pointed brass object.

“Looks like a miniature dart,” Mrs. Patterson declared as she
leaned over the Englishman’s shoulder to get a better view.

“Take a closer look at the tip.”

As Mrs. Patterson adjusted her glasses, Creighton’s eyes focused
on a reddish-brown spot at the point of the object. “Looks like dried
blood,” he asserted.

The elderly woman gasped and took a step backward.

“Where did you find it?” Creighton inquired.

“On the ground near Alfred Nussbaum’s body. When I was waiting for Robert to arrive, I happened to catch a glimpse of something sparkling in the grass. I thought it might be an earring, so I
picked it up.”

“Hmm mmm … you just `happened’ to catch a glimpse of it?”

Marjorie’s face broke into a broad grin. “Okay, so I was looking.”

“Sweetie, if you had been any closer to the ground you’d have
been under it.”

“Maybe, but not for my own sake. When I realized what this
might be, I wrapped it up so I could give it to Robert.”

“Only he didn’t give you the chance,” he completed the story.

“Right. So, now will you take me to see Dr. Heller?”

“Yes, but under one condition. We drop off the dart, or whatever
it is, and then we leave.”

Mrs. Patterson nodded her head in silent approval.

“Leave?” Marjorie repeated incredulously. “But this is my piece
of evidence. I want to stick around long enough to know whether
or not it’s valuable.”

“You can find that out from your betrothed, Detective Jameson.”

“He won’t tell me.”

“That’s your problem;” Creighton replied unsympathetically. “All
I know is I’m not about to get mixed up in police business again. I
should think you’d feel the same way. Need I remind you what happened last time?”

“No, you needn’t remind me. I remember everything.” She gazed
wistfully into the distance. “The thrill of the hunt, the anticipation
of unearthing a long-buried secret, the giddiness we felt upon finding a new clue.”

Creighton had to admit the whole thing was pretty damn exciting, and he might have said he enjoyed it too, if it hadn’t ended
so badly. “Do you remember how the case closed?”

“Of course I do. We solved it. And we did a brilliant job, if I do
say so myself.”

“Uh-huh. Anything else?”

“Yes. I’m working on a book detailing the case. My agent says it
should sell like hotcakes.”

“Hotcakes? Wonderful,” he proclaimed. “With all that money
you’re going to have in the bank, there’s no need to tag along on
another police investigation in search of a story.”

“Oh, but Creighton,” she moaned.

“Don’t `Oh, but Creighton’ me. You’ve conveniently forgotten
one minor detail about the last case: you were nearly killed.”

“Well, if you’re going to hold a little thing like that over my
head,” she grumbled.

“A little thing? You spent three weeks in the hospital,” Creighton shrieked.

“I’m feeling much better now. In fact, I’m stronger than I’ve ever
been”

“Good, let’s see that you stay that way.”

“Oh, come now. What harm could possibly come from hanging
around a coroner’s office?”

“For a normal person? None. But I know you. You start out innocently enough, hanging around the coroner’s office and spewing a few wild theories. Before we know it, you’re interrogating suspects
and insinuating yourself into their homes. Pretty soon, that evolves
into getting blitzed on sherry, accosting dogs with lemon drops, and
accepting checks for fake charities. Then, before you can say ‘Sherlock Holmes’-bang! Someone decides that the world would be a
happier place without you in it.”

I admit I got carried away last time,” she conceded.

“Yes. Into an ambulance, by a bunch of medics.”

“All the more reason for you to come with me,” Marjorie continued. “If I recall correctly, when I was injured last time I was completely alone, with neither you nor Robert around to help me. But
if you keep an eye on me this time-”

“Save the doe eyes and innocent look for your future hubby,”
Creighton interrupted. “They won’t get you anywhere with me. You
can take care of yourself just fine. If anyone around here needs protection, I do.”

“Protection from what?”

“You,” he stated firmly, “and your overactive imagination. My
word, you’re good at twisting things. If your literary talent ever evaporates, you could easily find work as a pretzel-maker.”

“Well,” she huffed. “If you’re going to be rude about it, I’ll just
find someone else to drive me to Dr. Heller’s lab. I’m sure there are
lots of men who wouldn’t mind giving me a ride.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Creighton quipped. “I say, how do
you think Jameson is going to react to you interfering with his investigation?”

“He’ll be upset at first, but he’ll get over it.”

“I don’t think he’ll `get over it’ Why, if he finds out you went to
see Dr. Heller behind his back, he’ll be-ugh!” He grunted as an
elbow jabbed him in the ribs.

“He’ll be furious.” Mrs. Patterson lowered her elbow and gave a
surreptitious wink in Creighton’s direction. “Positively furious. He
may even call off the wedding.”

The Englishman returned his accomplice’s wink. “Oh, I think
you’re overstating it a bit, don’t you Mrs. Patterson? Jameson is a
levelheaded chap; I don’t see him reacting that strongly. Besides,
Marjorie should set things straight before the wedding. Let her future husband know that she’s not the type of girl who plans on
sitting quietly at home. Right, Marjorie?”

Marjorie’s face registered complete bewilderment. “What? Why,
yes. Yes, he needs to learn that I’m my own person.”

“Thatta girl! Well, don’t just stand there dawdling. Let’s get a
move on.

“A move on?”

“Yes, I’m driving you to Dr. Heller’s lab.”

“You are? But you said-”

“I know what I said. You think women are the only people who
are entitled to change their minds?”

“No, I don’t, but-”

“Then let’s go.” Before Marjorie could protest any further, Creighton took her by the arm and began to lead her away from the kissing
booth. Sharon Schutt, however, had different plans.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she
snorted. “Mother’s tired and wants to lie down. I told her you’d
drive her home.”

“I would, Sharon, but I can’t right now. Marjorie and I have some
business to attend to”

She eyed Marjorie contemptuously. “Marjorie? What business
could you possibly have with her?”

“Very important business. Now if you’ll excuse us, we must be
off.” He gently stepped around her, towing Marjorie behind him.

“Off? Off where?”

With a devilish grin he shouted over his shoulder: “To find ourselves a shillelagh!”

MARJORIE AND CREIGHTON STOOD in the corner of the laboratory,
drinking coffee from heavy earthenware mugs. They had been at
the coroner’s office for nearly two hours-a far cry from Creighton’s original promise to deposit the evidence and then leave. What
had occurred to change his mind, she couldn’t say, and she certainly
wasn’t about to ask, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Creighton enjoyed a good mystery as much as she did. How else to explain
the grin that crept across his face when Dr. Heller announced that
the dart was, indeed, a party to murder? And, moreover, how else
to account for the Englishman’s jubilation when it was announced
that Robert should be summoned, immediately, to share the news?

As if on cue, the detective breezed through the doorway. “I didn’t
expect to hear from you this soon, Doc. Must be something good.”
Upon glimpsing Marjorie and Creighton his demeanor suddenly
darkened. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s a nice hunk of welcome for the woman you’re going to
marry,” Marjorie quipped.