Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 05 - Mother Hubbard Has a Corpse in the Cupboard (30 page)

She sniffled and snuffled some more while I did some math—put two and two together and came up with who fired the bullet that killed Leon Pearson. She coughed, then continued, “I heard about your going behind my back to talk to my husband’s lawyer. If it hadn’t been for you, we would have had that beautiful funeral before the lawyer got involved. Now I’ll never know which of Paul’s rich friends might have been there and offered to comfort his widow. How do the Middletons put up with you sticking your nose in everyone’s business?” Her tone was hateful, spiteful, and sent spit flying out of her mouth as she sputtered at me. If she’d bobbed her finger in my face, I would have bitten it. Nobody gets away with shaking their finger at me, and I could tell she wanted to do just that.

“I didn’t say you killed him. I said the opposite. You’d be a fool to murder him, and I didn’t stick my nose in your business. You lied about insurance to pay for your husband’s funeral. Part of my job is to verify insurance information for Middleton’s. I had every right to consult your husband’s lawyer about funds to pay the bill. I’ll bet the doctor’s office won’t hesitate to chase money from his patients—at least the ones who survived.”

That last crack was hitting below the belt, but I wasn’t over Maum’s death. Maybe she would have died anyway, but I couldn’t help thinking that Dr. Sparrow didn’t do a lot to ease her pain. Thank heaven for Hospice!

“What do you mean lied about …” Mickey Thompson tried to ask, but Robin Sparrow wasn’t listening.

“That attorney violated my privacy telling you the terms of Paul’s will before it was officially read.”

“What about …” Thompson tried again, but this time I talked over him.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know what it said.” I didn’t bother to tell her that I got my info from the lawyer’s receptionist, not the attorney, nor even a paralegal.

“I knew about the pre-nup.” She cleared her throat. “I admit that, but—”

“What about the insurance?” This time Mickey Thompson screamed his interruption.

“All assets, including insurance, are to be liquidated and put into a trust fund.” I admit it made me happy to tell him.

“No problem.” He looked relieved. “I’m sure Dr. Sparrow has made generous provisions for Robin.”

“Yes, she’ll have an allowance that’s about what I earn per year.” I took even more pleasure in telling him that.

The look of shock on his face was priceless. Wish I’d had a camera.

Thompson turned toward Robin Sparrow. “What about this beautiful house? You’ll stay here, won’t you?”

“It will be sold.” I took enormous gratification in butting in with that news.

“You never told me any of this.” He growled at Mrs. Sparrow.

“I didn’t see where it was any of your business.” She turned toward me. “And, yes, I knew about the provisions of the pre-nup. I signed it, didn’t I?”

“What about
us?”
he demanded.

“Us!
What do you mean
us?
Paul wasn’t that old. I didn’t expect him to die. I figured I’d stay married to him until I met someone else. He wasn’t very pleasant, and I planned to divorce him sooner or later, but not for
you.
You were a fling, someone to hang out with until a man richer than Paul came along, but surely you didn’t think I’d
marry
you!”

He slapped her. The sound resonated all over that big room. Robin Sparrow’s face collapsed in tears as his handprint blossomed bright red on her cheek. Her shocked expression was genuine.

That’s when it hit me. Mickey Thompson had figured that Robin would be a wealthy widow with Paul out of the way. He’d planned to be by her side and live off her money.

“You! You shot him.” I didn’t think at all. The accusation just popped out of my mouth.

He didn’t slap me—he slugged me. Hard. On the chin. I stumbled backwards and fell against the Chinese table and then to the floor. Robin jumped on his back, wrapping her arms around him—not in love, but in rage.

“You fool!” she screamed. “I’ve got nothing now, and it’s all because of
you.
Paul and I would have been fine. He only wanted me dressed up and looking good when we went to medical conventions and places where he wanted to show me off as his wife. So long as I looked good, I was free most of the time to do whatever I wanted. You ruined it all! Now I’m trapped by his will and that damned trust fund.”

“You told me you love me. You tricked me. I’ll kill you like I did him.” His words cut through the room like a knife or one of Dr. Sparrow’s scalpels. He wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed. Robin raised her arms and tried to press her fingers beneath Thompson’s hands on her throat. Tried to loosen his hold. No dice. He pressed harder and harder, squeezing the life out of her.

I’ve shot a man and killed him. He was a bad man, a horrible man, but that memory haunts me. I vowed never to kill again, not that it mattered. I didn’t have a gun with me anyway.

Robin’s face turned blue, and her tongue bulged out between her lips grotesquely.
Do something or watch the woman die right here, and when she’s dead, he’ll grab me
. I confess that for a moment I thought about running—just dashing out of the house.

I couldn’t do that. I pulled myself up on the carved table and grabbed the heaviest thing within reach—the bronze and stainless steel urn with Dr. Sparrow’s ashes in it. I raised it as high as I could and smashed it down on Mr. Tongue Mickey Thompson’s head.
What if he lets Robin go and grabs
me?
No need to worry about that. Thompson released Robin’s neck and crumpled to the floor. Robin coughed, sputtered, and opened her eyes. I thought I should get her a glass or water or something, but I didn’t know where the kitchen was. I pulled the phone from my bosom and hit 911.

27

“I still don’t understand some of what happened. I’m confused,” Jane said as I handed the sheriff his plate and sat down beside her across from him in the booth. Oops! I was supposed to set the plate on the table, not give it to the customer, especially one who was handicapped by casts on five fingers.

Since Rizzie’d reopened Gastric Gullah, she’d been slammed with customers. Tyrone assisted, but without Maum in the kitchen, Rizzie had to spend most of her time cooking. She’d been interviewing additional staff, but until she decided on someone, I’d been helping her out waiting tables when I wasn’t at Middleton’s. After only a day and a half, I’d decided I’d rather work in the mortuary than in food service. Buh-leeve me. I
will
tip better from now on when I go out.

“Don’t understand what?” Wayne questioned Jane while using his left hand to lift a spoonful of shrimp and grits. I’d be glad when those casts came off his right hand. Sometimes he winced in pain, and I knew his shattered fingers hurt him as well as being inconvenient on the job when filling out reports even though most of them were on the computer. He’d been practicing shooting with his left hand because his surgeon said he’d need a lot of physical therapy to rebuild the right hand’s strength when the casts came off. Shooting would be impossible with that hand for a long time, not that Wayne has shot that many people anyway.

Jane and I had eaten before Wayne arrived at the restaurant. We both sipped sweet ice tea while he ate.

“I don’t understand. If the bullet that killed Leon Pearson was falling from the sky, how was he shot in the back?” Jane continued.

“Because he was bent over when he was hit, leaning forward. Otherwise, the bullet would have hit him in the head. It would probably still have been fatal, but his skull would have given some resistance. With Leon bowed forward, the bullet went into his back, missed a rib, which might have slowed it down, and was a direct hit into the rear of his heart.

“Wonder why he was bending?” I mean, get real, the kid wasn’t hiding in a storage closet to exercise. “For that matter, what was he doing in the beer garden anyway?”

“We found a quarter on the ground beneath Leon Pearson’s body. Once we identified him, the kids were willing to talk about him. They said he was a tightwad. Actually, they said he’d steal a penny if given a chance. He had a hole in the pocket of his jeans. The quarter must have fallen through, and he leaned over to pick it up. So far as why he was in the storage area, he was under age to buy alcoholic beverages. Plus, he liked stealing anyway. He’d stolen the Middletons Midway jacket so people would think he was working there when he carted out a few cases of beer.”

“That makes sense.” Jane turned toward me. “Callie, I think I’m hungry after all. Can you ask Rizzie for a plate of what the sheriff’s eating? It smells scrumptious.”

“Sure.” I went to the kitchen and waited while Rizzie served up a plate for Jane. Andouille sausage is an important ingredient in Rizzie’s shrimp and grits; and the sausage, onions, and bacon give the dish a mouthwatering aroma.

When I got back to the table, Wayne and Rizzie were discussing theft and shoplifting.

“You know that I don’t do any of that stuff anymore, don’t you?” Jane asked.

“Yes, you’ve come a long way in staying on the right side of the law,” Sheriff Harmon smiled. He turned toward me. “You do realize that you’re the reason I had the top of that tent examined, don’t you?”

“No, what did I do?”

“When you were worried about the Mustang’s ragtop leaking after the ice pick attack on your car, it made me think about holes in canvas rooftops even though the top of a convertible and a tent aren’t exactly the same,” he explained. “We’d checked the walls of Mother Hubbard’s but not the overhead fabric.”

“This is a little morbid for me,” Jane said, “but did the doctor’s ashes spill out when you hit that tennis pro with them?”

I had to laugh, definitely inappropriately. “That just happens in the movies and on television. Cremains aren’t just poured into the container. They’re sealed in a very heavy plastic bag that’s put into the urn.” I looked at Wayne hopefully. “Mickey Thompson is going to be okay, isn’t he?”

“He’ll be fine for his trial, but you gave him one helluva headache.”

“What about all those boys in the gang?” I asked.

“Really, there aren’t that many, and my department is dealing with them in lots of ways. Leon Pearson’s side man and the two who painted Patel’s tent and the Middletons’ caskets will be prosecuted, but most of the local kids didn’t get that far. They were being groomed for a gang by Leon Pearson and his followers, but they hadn’t broken the law themselves. I’m trying to turn them around by starting after-school programs. I can’t force them into joining, but we’ll encourage it. Try to involve them in sports and reward them for better grades. I think Leon Pearson’s death scared those kids big time even if it turned out not to be gang-related.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Tyrone, cleaning off tables across the room. “I’m hoping Rizzie can work it out so that Tyrone will have at least one or two afternoons a week to be involved in athletic activities. We really need to show that young man that we realize how brave he was to stand up to Leon and the others who tried to force him into the gang. It took courage for him to come forward after they vandalized your car.”

“I admit I get aggravated with him at times,” I admitted, “but bottom line is that he’s a decent kid. I hope Daddy and The Boys will be good influences on him, too.”

Wayne gave me an uncomfortable look. “I’m sure they will in everything except that some of your brothers don’t have very strong work ethics.”

“We’ll leave that up to Rizzie. I think she’ll instill that in him.”

Jane frowned, obviously not liking the direction our conversation was going. “I think you can find something else to talk about,” she said.

Wayne accommodated her by changing the subject. “What made you think Mickey Thompson killed the doctor instead of Robin Sparrow, Callie?”

“Jane said that Mrs. Sparrow was too vain to love anyone but herself. I still thought she might have done it until I found out she’d signed the pre-nup with the doctor. That woman would have stayed much richer with her husband alive. He pretty much let her have whatever she wanted, but the pre-nup and his will both stipulated that when he died, everything would be sold and the proceeds put into a trust fund. Mrs. Sparrow gets a reasonable, regular monthly allowance, but not a large inheritance and not nearly enough to live the way she has been since their marriage. Even the doctor’s insurance money goes to the trust fund.”

“I don’t know how he was as a doctor, but the man was smart about not leaving his new trophy wife any reason to knock him off.” Sheriff Harmon used his biscuit to wipe the remaining shrimp gravy off the edge of his plate.

“The lawyer told Otis and Odell that before Robin, the doctor found insurance policies on his life made out to a previous wife. His signature was forged on them. He made sure that Robin wouldn’t be tempted to try that. She won’t be able to continue living in the McMansion that Thompson lusted for. It’s to be sold and the proceeds go to the trust fund.” My words made me feel sorry for Robin Sparrow, but just a little. Not much.

“So, in reality, Mickey Thompson screwed Robin Sparrow?” Jane said.

Wayne laughed. “In more ways than one.”

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