Murder Came Second (2 page)

Now this may not make sense to you. In a way, I hope it doesn’t.

But it was a real and present fear for me, and I am sure Cindy must have sensed it. So when we spoke of living together, we verbally trod successfully on eggshells that never broke, because neither of us ever said anything heavy.

Tonight, I guess I felt singularly close to her, and perhaps very safe, for I was just beginning to find the courage to let these little terrors of mine be articulated, when the phone rang.

I wanted to scream, “How dare you ring now?” and rip it from the wall, but of course one never does. One picks it up and says politely, “Hello . . . this is she . . . oh, yes, Bill . . .”

Bill Meyer of the Chambered Nautilus Bed and Breakfast Inn. He and his wife Martha owned and ran it. It was a lovely old building in the Victorian style, with six or seven rentable rooms and baths, all nicely decorated. The downstairs sitting room was filled with genuine antiques plus a baby grand piano which Bill often played in the early evening, alternating light classics, show tunes, a little understated jazz, while the guests enjoyed tea or sherry if they wished. Both owners were thoroughly charming, and not just to their guests.

Their liability insurance was held by Plymouth Rock Security, which retained me to investigate claims in the Provincetown area. Naturally, I had nothing to do with the settlement procedures of serious injuries or serious frauds. Sometimes, however, troubled waters could be quickly calmed by a few well-spent dollars, or frivolous claims could die aborning with the delicate mention of the penalties of fraud.

I figured Bill had one or the other of these problems at hand.

“What can I do for you, William?”

“Alex, we’ve got the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of here. One of our female guests—lovely lady, known her for years, a real treasure—climbed up a tree in the front yard and fell out of it, stark naked, screaming there was a six-foot alligator chasing her. There were two other guests coming up the walkway at the time, and they—”

“Bill, did you say she was naked and being chased by an alligator?” I looked at Cindy and entertained a moment’s concern that her eyebrows had disappeared forever into her hairline.

“That’s what she said . . . still says. But I can’t find the damn thing! I’ve since gone over every inch of the house and shined a flashlight around the yard. They all ran for the house, when she tumbled out of the tree. Mr. Joyner fell up the steps and sprained his ankle. Alex, can you get over here now?”

“On my way. And, Bill, stay in the house. Just to make sure.” I hung up. Cindy and I looked at each other, then smiled, giggled and finally roared. I ran for the office where I took four crisp one-hundred dollar bills out of the safe where I keep ten of them, for insurance business only. Then I hit the bedroom, peeling off my T-shirt and replacing it with a clean sleeveless mock turtleneck top and light cotton blazer. I figured the jeans would do. I kicked off the sneakers and slipped into my boat shoes. “I’m off!” I gave Cindy a hug, then held her away from me and stopped laughing. “Hold this thought: I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she answered softly, and then smiled. “Be careful of that gator.”

As I backed quickly out of the driveway, I was guiltily grateful that Bill and Martha had an alligator on the loose. A certain conversation would have to wait until another time. Again.

After parking on the street, I walked slowly up the path toward the inn and shined my big flashlight into the limbs of the mimosa tree. To the best of my knowledge alligators didn’t climb trees, but something else might have. I saw nothing but a drooping broken branch, the delicate leaves already folding in prayerful farewell. I flicked the light around the flowers and shrubs, again with no result, and climbed to the porch. Bill came out to meet me.

“Thank God you’re here! What an unbelievable mess! Gale Withers still swears it was a great big alligator! By the way, she’s got a nasty looking scrape from the tree on one thigh. Can she sue? Nobody told her to climb the damn tree.”

I wondered if he preferred she had lost a leg to the alligator. “Stay out here a minute, Bill, and give me a little background. Take a deep breath. Nobody needs immediate medical attention, do they?”

“No.” He flashed a ghost of a grin. “Unless you count Martha and me. Okay. Gale Withers and her husband have been customers for a number of years. Always pleasant, no trouble, no noisiness, some drinks, but no problem. When Gale got here today and Martha was getting her settled in her room, they were chatting, and Martha found out Gale’s husband has left her for a newer model. He served divorce papers on her a few days back, on their wedding anniversary, if you can believe such sensitivity. Her two kids—in their early twenties, I think—insisted she get away for a few days and get her head together before she tries to deal with any of this. I guess she was really shocked and broken up.”

I tried to guess who wouldn’t be shocked and distressed, and had no luck.

Bill held his hands out, palm up, in explanation. “Of course, the Chambered Nautilus, all of Ptown, for that matter, holds a great many memories for her. I could almost wish she had picked another spot, if that doesn’t sound too unkind. Oh, by the way, according to Martha, Gale was knocking back the sherry pretty hard earlier.” He shrugged. “That’s about it.”

I nodded. The poor woman was probably reliving happier days and wondering what kind of truck had hit her. “Do you know if she went out for dinner or just settled for the sherry?” I asked.

“Yes, she did go for dinner. She asked me to book a table for her at the Speedwell.” It was an upscale restaurant in town, named for the second ship in the Puritans’ little armada, which failed to live up to its name by arriving several weeks behind the Mayflower. “Unfortunately, if I recall correctly, the restaurant was a favorite of Gale’s and Tom’s in the past. That choice can’t have cheered her up, either.” He managed a wry smile.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go in.”

We entered the sitting room, which at that moment held four people. Bill’s wife, Martha, sat a little apart in a wingback chair. A stocky forty-ish man lay on the couch with his left ankle on a pillow and sporting an icepack. A woman about the same age sat in a chair next to him, and a nice looking female in her late forties— Mrs. Withers, I presumed—now quite primly covered in a high necked robe and bedroom slippers, was half reclined on a settee. In addition to whatever damage she’d done to her thigh, I noted a couple of scratches on her arms and one on her face.

Martha jumped up and came to me to bestow a tight hug, which I found not the least unpleasant. “Alex. Are we glad to see you!” she whispered. “This is unreal.”

“Have no fear,” I breathed back. “The cavalry is here.”

I went into my act. “Mrs. Withers, Mr. and Mrs. Joyner, sorry to meet you at such an upsetting time. I’m Alex Peres. I represent Plymouth Rock Security insurance. Martha and Bill are clients of ours, and we want to get you all settled down and comfortable as soon as possible.”

I looked at Mrs. Withers and Mr. Joyner. “Do either of you need a doctor this minute, or can you give me just a little time to go over the evening’s events?”

Both nodded and gave what I took to be affirmative grunts, so I continued. If there really
had
been some kind of animal, we needed to get the thing off the streets.

“Now, Mrs. Withers, could you please start at the beginning for me?”

“Yes. It’s all very simple. My room is in back on this floor, around the corner of the front porch, where the side porch turns back. I returned from dinner. My room was, uh, warm, so I turned on the fan. I made myself a highball and decided to go on the porch and have it and wait for the room to cool. Uh, well, you see, I had, uh, disrobed in order to cool off more quickly, so I, well, I climbed out the window onto the little side porch, where I knew no one could see me. I was sitting in one of the chairs, having my drink, enjoying the breeze, when I heard this kind of scratching noise. I looked up, and this
giant
alligator—at least six feet—was coming toward me on the porch! It was terrifying. He was grunting, and his mouth kept opening. I vaulted the rail, ran across the yard and climbed the tree.”

With gargantuan effort, I kept my face completely neutral. “And then what happened?”

“I heard him scratching around the base of the tree and was sure he was climbing it. But there was nothing more I could do, so I just hung on. Then I heard the Joyners coming up the walk and was afraid he would get them, too. I screamed something at them. At that point, I was too far out on the limb. I heard it crack. I fell and then we all ran inside.”

“I see. That all seems straightforward.” I hoped my eyes weren’t as round as I thought they were. I turned to the Joyners. “Is the last part of that account basically what you recall also?”

Mrs. Joyner nodded. Mr. Joyner added, “Yeah, that about covers it. I managed to trip, running up the stairs, and as I was trying to get up, I may have heard a noise over by the fence, but I’m not sure.”

“Well,” I said cheerfully, “That’s all quite clear.” Sure it was.

“Here’s what we’ll do. Right now, Bill and Martha will get you over to the clinic. We’ll get that ankle X-rayed and taped and get something to soothe those scratches. Make sure neither of you is in any pain. Of course, this is all taken care of by Plymouth Rock. Mrs. Joyner, feel free to come along if you wish. Now, while Bill helps Mr. Joyner to the car, perhaps, Martha, you’ll give me a minute.”

When the sitting room cleared I turned to Martha Meyer. “Well, luv, we may have dodged a bullet. Nobody is screaming lawsuit. Nor should they. I assume you did not stock the front yard with alligators. Nobody told Withers to climb naked out a window or up a tree, and the front steps have no loose boards. So I really don’t see liability suits for you unless we find alligator scales on the back steps. Of course, the night is young.”

She took my hands. “You’re a good friend, Alex. Maybe I can finally stop thinking I’m going to throw up. Joyner did say something about your being remarkably prompt. I think he was impressed.” She still looked worried but no longer verging on frantic. She looked younger than her years, and quite desirable, and once again I wondered if she were absolutely
sure
she was straight.

I brought myself back to why I was there and freed my hands.

“Good. The faster we work, the better. Get them in and out of the clinic. Ask the doctor privately if he can think of some reason to get some blood out of Withers and quietly run an alcohol level, but don’t push it. Then I suggest the following menu.”

I lit a cigarette and saw Martha cringe. “Come in the kitchen. We can’t smell up this room.”

“Okay,” I continued in the large kitchen. “Offer to put them all up in a motel or one of your second story rooms tonight if they’re uneasy.”

“The Joyners are already on the second floor, but he may not want the climb. We do have one empty room upstairs that Gale could have.”

“Got you. Well, see what they say. Then tell them however many nights they have been here are no charge. It really is important they don’t feel like they paid anything to get hurt and scared. Tell them of course you would love to have them stay their full reservation as your guest, but the Joyners may not want to limp around, and Withers may be dicey. So you offer them a long weekend free in late October. You may have empty rooms by then anyway.”

I flicked ashes in the sink, and Martha tried not to look pained. She nodded slowly as she turned on the tap. “Yes, it’s a good idea and a lot cheaper than a lawsuit. We’ll do it that way.”

“Good. I’m going over to the Speedwell and see if I can find out how much La Withers had to drink, just in case we need that information later if she gets difficult. I’ll meet you all back here, and you can tell me what they’ve decided. Then I will flash a couple of large bills and say how sorry I am their evening was ruined, and tomorrow why don’t they all have a nice dinner, courtesy of Plymouth Rock. Then I get them to sign the release. That’s the tricky part.”

Outside, Martha walked over to their station wagon, and I began the four-block walk to the Speedwell. It was faster than trying to drive it. I felt strangely relieved to be in a brightly lit area, even though I really didn’t think Ptown boasted any alligators, not the four-legged type, anyway. Arriving at the Speedwell, I asked for the manager and was routed to a very important-looking woman, who showed some teeth and asked if she could help me with something, and really didn’t seem to mean any of it.