Appraisal for Murder (28 page)

When she agreed I was ecstatic. I told Aunt Madge I was heading for Java Jolt and then to the grocery store to pick up some of Jazz’s favorite cat food. I felt a slight amount of guilt for lying to her, but not enough to deter me.

I was waiting in the Riordan driveway when Mrs. Jasper pulled up in an older Ford Taurus. She had on a sweat suit and tennis shoes, so I figured she must have scheduled her daily walk for the evening instead of morning. “Good evening,” she said brightly. “I’m just sorry Michael couldn’t be here. When does he come back?”

“Maybe late tomorrow,” I said.

The code turned out to be the same. “We have to walk quickly into the house,” she said. “If we don’t push the same security code on the alarm pad inside the kitchen, the alarm will go off.”

My heart beat faster. If Michael had changed that code and the alarm sounded, I was screwed. He’d be furious and Mrs. Jasper was sure to tell the story at church, which would mean I’d be in hot water with Aunt Madge, too.

Luckily, the code was unchanged, and we looked around Ruth Riordan’s beautiful kitchen, now a mass of packed boxes and empty coffee cups. She sighed. “It’s just so sad to see the house this way.”

I was too excited for empathy. “The jewelry is in some small boxes in the master bedroom.” As we climbed the steps, I hoped Honey hadn’t made off with all of it.

Again, my luck held. I was surprised at Mrs. Jasper’s eagerness to see what was in them. She looked disappointed when she saw things had been neatly sorted and placed in small plastic bags. “Oh, you’ve been through it all.”

“Yes. Some’s going to the estate sale, and some to the church thrift shop.”

“So, I won’t see it all then?” My look must have been puzzled, and she continued. “There were a couple things that especially reminded me of Ruth, but of course anything would be lovely.”

“Actually, there’s no formal inventory, so you can look through all the boxes.” This was going to take forever, and I had what I wanted. I knew she could get in the house.

I was only half-listening as she commented on an occasional piece, and I wandered around the room, glancing out the window into the dusk. We both paused at a sound that seemed to come from downstairs.

"Wind," Mrs. Jasper said, and I nodded.

I was nervous now.
You have no business being in an empty house,
I scolded myself.

“There were some earrings she wore a lot,” Mrs. Jasper said, more loudly. “Blue sapphire in the center. I don’t see them.”

Why did she want those?
It means something
. “I remember, but I think she must have lost one.” I walked over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. The earring was still there, and I pulled it out.

Mrs. Jasper grabbed it from me, a triumphant look on her face. “There you are.”

My mind raced. She’d been looking for it
. That’s why she so wanted to help Michael sort through Ruth’s things. It wasn’t Ruth’s, it was hers
. “Did you lose it over here?” I asked.

“Yes. No!” She tried to cover her gaffe. “Where’s the other one?”

“There is no other one.” I walked closer to her and spoke slowly, looking directly into her eyes. “That wasn’t Ruth’s earring. It’s yours. You lost it here, maybe when you murdered Ruth.”

Her face was expressionless, and then she gave me a stilted smile. “You had a difficult time yesterday, Jolie. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

“Yes, I am. If Ruth was dead and Michael was convicted of her murder, Social Services at the church would get something like one-third of her estate. It would be a lot of money. You would manage that money.”

Her eyes studied mine for a moment, and then her voice took on an almost syrupy tone. “You make it sound as if I wanted it for myself. I wouldn’t have touched a dime.”

I was astounded. She was admitting it. “So you really did it?” In the movies, the sleuth did not sound surprised, but I’d never done this before.

“It shouldn’t have been so difficult.” She frowned. “I brought over tea bags that night, told her I had just gotten them as a gift and I made the tea. It was sassafras, has a strong taste so she wouldn't taste anything I added to it. Those ground-up pills I put in her tea should have slowed down her heart and breathing enough to stop them.” Her expression was bitter. “Leave it to Ruth to have such a strong constitution.”

“How did you know those pills were there, or was it just a coincidence that you use the same kind of muscle relaxer that Michael had?”

She sniffed. “Ruth was always concerned about Michael, she knew about his back hurting him and never wanted him to lift things for her. She cared a lot more about him than he did about her, I can tell you.”

I wasn’t about to contradict her, though I thought she was very wrong. When I said nothing, she continued. “I knew he took medicine, so I went into his bathroom one day when I was here to visit with Ruth. I read the label and took a few, and when I looked up the medicine I figured it would work perfectly.”

“And when it didn’t, how did you know?”

“I came back in when I was sure Ruth would be asleep. Michael came back from the movies earlier than I thought he would, so I went into the closet when he looked in on her. I was going to wait until he went to bed and then help her along, but I fell asleep on the damn closet floor.”

“And that’s how you lost the earring?” I asked.

“Yes. I didn’t notice, of course. And I didn’t wake up until morning when he opened the door to look in on her. He almost ruined my plan, but Ruth had told me you were coming, and that Michael was going to leave when you arrived, because he didn’t especially like you.” She smiled at this.

“How convenient for you.”

Her look was almost triumphant. “All I had to do was wait for him to go, and then I could kill her and leave. You work so slowly, I just slipped out the front door when you were in the kitchen.”

Her pride in what she had done sickened me, and I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t be so wishy-washy,” she said. “She was going to be dead in a few months anyway. And she wanted Social Services to have some of her money.” She smiled. “I just wanted us to have more. You have no idea how many truly needy people there are here.” She leaned toward me, as if confiding something important. “And I had to do it before she transferred the house to the Arts Council. All those people are rich! They don’t need this house.”

“WHO ARE YOU?” Mrs. Jasper asked. I took a small amount of pleasure in her frightened expression.

“I’m a real angry guy,” he said, in a pleasant tone. His clothes were rumpled, he had a day’s beard growth, and his patent leather shoes were dirty. I was pleased to see a purple bruise under one eye. He gestured with the gun. “You ladies can just walk downstairs and I’ll follow.”

Mrs. Jasper seemed to regain her high opinion of herself. “You can just put that gun away,” she said, rising to every inch of her short stature.

My mind seemed fuzzy. He had been following me, and we had not locked the door.
How stupid can you be, Jolie?

Despite his tough-guy talk, I sensed he was no more sure of what he was doing than I was. Unless, of course, his arrest record didn’t reflect all of his past work.

“We’ll go downstairs,” I said, trying to think of what to do. Maybe if we were in the living room with lights on, someone driving by would see us, and notice his gun.

“You’ll go where I say you go.” Again he gestured with the gun, and I nodded at Mrs. Jasper to go ahead of me.

When we got to the steps, she said, “I need to use the railing.”

I stepped to one side and let her go down on my right. We had gone only a couple steps when I remembered her daily walks and how spry she was. I glanced at her in time to see her arm reach out to push me, but I had no railing to grab.

As I pitched forward, I heard Pedone say, “What the hell are you doing?” In the split second before I actually fell I tried to grab backwards for Pedone, but all I grabbed was air.

Those ads about carpet being soft enough to sleep on are a crock. I landed hard on my shoulder two steps down, and then rolled. Every time I rolled on my right shoulder I gave a squeal.

I landed on the foyer floor, out of breath and sore, but pretty sure I was alive. I could hear someone running down the steps, and then a voice called out. “Police. Drop the gun!”

Gunshots are very loud. I had no idea. There was about a two-second pause after the loud crack of a gun, and someone started tumbling down the steps after me. My mind told me to move, but none of my muscles were inclined to follow directions.

Suddenly, I was aware of someone diving toward me, but not from above, from the hallway nearby. He slid into me and pushed me out of the way, so the body coming down the stairs landed behind us.

“Yo, Jolie,” said Scoobie.

I fainted.

I REMEMBER SGT. MOREHOUSE tapping me on the cheek, and me telling him not to call Aunt Madge, but I must have passed out again, because I don’t remember anything until a while later, in the emergency room. Of course, he called her.

They must have given me something for the pain, because my shoulder didn’t feel too bad and I was kind of woozy. I thought I remembered someone saying it had been dislocated and they were ‘putting it back.’

“She said she was going to get cat food.” Aunt Madge came in from the other side of the curtain, Sgt. Morehouse behind her. She saw I was awake, and frowned at me. No sympathy there. “Young lady, don’t you ever lie to me again.”

Morehouse had the nerve to chuckle, and she turned on him. “That’s not funny.” He sobered quickly.

“I was just supposed to see Mrs. Jasper,” I said, and Aunt Madge actually glared at me. “I know, I should have told you, but you just would have worried.”

“I wonder why?” she asked, but her expression was softening as she looked at me. “Why does she have that IV in?” she asked Morehouse.

“Uh...”

He was saved from a response by a no-nonsense woman in a nurse’s uniform who flipped back the curtain and entered. “There are too many people in here.”

“I’ll leave,” Morehouse said, and beat it.

“I saved her. I’m staying.” Scoobie said.

Aunt Madge lunged at him and hugged him, and when she finally released him she fished in her pocket for a tissue. She turned to the nurse. “What did happen to her?” Ordinarily, I would have objected to being talked about in the third person when I was in the room, but as I wasn’t sure what had happened in the last half-hour or so, I kept quiet.

“She was pushed down a flight of steps and dislocated her shoulder, but the doctor has fixed it. We’ve taken x-rays of her head and neck. There is nothing broken.”

“No way,” Scoobie said. I was happy to let him tell the story. “They were coming down the steps, in front of the guy with the gun, and…”

“Anyway,” Scoobie continued, “they were at the top of the steps when Mrs. Jasper just pushed her. Sgt. Morehouse said this Pedone guy should drop the gun, but he aimed it at the sergeant, and Sgt. Morehouse shot him.” Scoobie drew a breath, obviously keyed up. “But just in the arm. I think he’s somewhere in the hospital.”

I did not like that idea.

“And why were you there, Adam?” Aunt Madge asked.

“I saw Jolie pull out of your driveway, and Pedone followed her. I ran to the police.” He frowned. “No one believed me, but Sgt. Morehouse was there, and he came out.”

“That’s why he called and asked for you,” Aunt Madge said, nodding at me.

Bless him,
I thought.

“He didn’t tell me what he wanted,” Aunt Madge continued.

“We drove to Java Jolt, and then he thought of the Riordans'. The garage entrance was open, so we went in.” Scoobie stopped and looked thoughtful. “That’s about all I know, except that when Pedone started to fall down the steps I figured I should push Jolie out of the way.”