An Uncollected Death

by Meg Wolfe

side were four more cards, which she vaguely recalled had something to do with factors affecting the decision, both within and without, one’s hopes and fear, and the final outcome. She couldn’t remember the exact meaning of the various cards, but they were a mix of coins and swords, which, she thought, was probably an accurate description of her recent life. The only one that she was sure about was the first one, the one that described the fundamental present: The Fool. The happy-go-lucky fellow was ambling along, oblivious to being on the verge of stepping off a cliff.

  Ouch, she thought. That was the way she’d handled the whole summer, oblivious to danger, and coasting on faith. Charlotte put the cards back in the box. She didn’t need them to tell herself what to do next, and called Martin Stanton to tell him she was selling Hannah’s painting.

  Fourteen

  Saturday, September 21st

   

  There were several boxes that had been moved from the basement into the garage, where the estate service had set up large folding tables. Charlotte thought she might as well take a look through them before heading to Elm Grove. It turned out to be stuff she probably would have thrown out, such as parts to appliances she no longer had, accessories she never used for the refrigerator and clothes dryer, left over craft supplies from Ellis’ elementary school days, scraps from Christmas and Halloween projects, plastic Easter eggs, and the like. Nothing, really, worth keeping, but still it was better to check than to accidentally sell something that she or Ellis would have wanted to keep.

  “So it’s like that, huh?” came the big loud voice, startling Charlotte so much that she gasped and dropped a plastic bag of clothespins, which scattered across the concrete floor.

  It was Bosley Warren, who seemed to take up half the width of the garage door opening.

  “What do you want? You scared me half to death.”

  “What the hell are you doing, Charlotte Anthony, giving twenty percent of your haul away to that slick Stanton outfit? And why didn’t you think it was worth mentioning to me? We had an agreement!” His salesman drawl was diminished by his fury.

  “We didn’t have an agreement. I said I wanted to think about it.”

  He came closer and got louder. “And I said I was going to hold the date for you and I gave you the contract.”

  “I never signed a contract with you and we never made an agreement.”

  He jabbed a finger at her, nearly touching her chest, and she backed away as he shouted, “Uppity bitches like you just think you can do what you like without common courtesy, you can break agreements and take your husbands for every dime they got, oh that’s all right, huh?”

  “What are you talking about? I did cancel! In person! The next day! Maybe the redhead just didn’t remember to tell you! Get away from me!” She backed around the end of a table and tried to make her way to the driveway, but the big man was fast and light on his feet.

  “I oughta sue your skinny ass for breach of contract!” He flipped over one of the tables in a rage, and several boxes of trivia crashed and clattered across the concrete.

  “HEY!” It was Ernie, emerging from around the hedge between their driveways. He was holding a long pole with a sharp serrated pruning saw attached to the end, and he was pointing it at Bosley Warren. “What the hell are you doing? Get outta here, you sumbitch!”

  Bosley turned to Charlotte and growled at her. “I’m gonna burn your ass for this, one way or another.” He stormed out past Ernie, jumped into his Escalade, which was parked on the street, and peeled off.

  Ernie dropped the pruning saw on the driveway and toddled over. “You okay, Charlotte? Want me to call the police?”

  Charlotte was trembling from the ordeal, but shook her head. “Thanks, Ernie, but no. I’m so grateful you came by when you did, he was pretty scary.”

  “I still think you should tell the police, he might come back or follow you or something.” He helped her put the table upright and started to help her pick up the stuff scattered on the floor.

  “I’m going to call someone, don’t worry.”

  And a few minutes later, alone, she did call Detective Barnes, who arrived quietly and quickly.

  Charlotte felt relief the minute he pulled up the drive, and the story just spilled out of her in a burst of nerves.

  Barnes was unflappable. “Even if you did break the contract, he was out of line to threaten you like that.”

  She showed him the contract form Warren had given her. “I don’t know where he got the idea that we had an actual agreement. In fact, he got a phone call just before he handed it to me and left in a hurry. And I did tell the woman at the counter, I think Ilona was her name, that I wouldn’t need the date saved.” She continued by telling him about her visit to the pawn shop.

  “Ilona,” he nodded. “That’s the redhead. Used to be his girlfriend or something. I’m thinking about his hostility, wondering if he knows about your connection to Olivia, and by extension the reason for his brother’s presence in her house.”

  “The thought had occurred to me, too, which is why I called you instead of the sheriff’s department.”

  “Does he know you’re moving to Elm Grove?”

  “No. I certainly haven’t told him. I don’t think anyone that knows would have told him, either.”

  “Don’t take it for granted, though. People talk, things get said in conversations that aren’t intended to harm. People always know more than they say, although it might not sound like it sometimes.” He shook his head as if remembering many examples of this. “If possible, be extra vigilant. I’ll make sure Warren is put on notice about this, and will also inform the Sheriff’s department and the Elm Grove police. It could just be he is acting out because of grief, and it has nothing to do with you. His brother was also his business partner, and as I understand it, the smarter one of the two, so maybe he’s finding out he’s in over his head. Could be any number of things.”

  “Oh, great. The minute I have to downsize, I get mixed up in things I never thought about or even knew about. I pawned my jewelry and silverware at his shop and I want to get it back when I get the money from my sale. Oh, I am so dumb, dumb, dumb,” Charlotte groaned and rested her forehead on her palm.

  Barnes patted her on the back. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Charlotte. Lots of people are going to cross paths that never normally would in this economy. If it isn’t this, it would be break-ins, muggings, or something or other.”

  “I can’t wait for this sale to be over with and just hole up in my little apartment.”

  “When are you moving?”

  “I’m cleaning and painting it tomorrow, so I wouldn’t be able to move in until Monday at the earliest.” She went on to explain her arrangement with Larry, which wasn’t necessary for Barnes to know, but she couldn’t stop herself from babbling. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to mind, and when she looked up at him his expression was a little less neutral and a little more sympathetic than it was the last time she saw him.

  She finally started to calm down. “Want some coffee? If you have some time, I, um, I’ve done some thinking about the murder.”

  “Have you, now?” he said, his eyebrows lifted in interest. “Coffee sounds good. You might want to be careful with the caffeine, though.” He pointed at her hand, which was trembling again.

  “Good point. Coffee for you, herb tea for me.” She poured Barnes a coffee and prepared the tea while explaining her thoughts about the baseball bat being planted in Olivia’s hand, and showed him the passage in the notebook that recounted the cause of her injury.

  “I remembered what you said, that there could possibly be a third party,” continued Charlotte, “and I’m thinking you’re right. It’s the only way to explain that bat, and Wesley Warren’s injury. Olivia couldn’t have done it.”

  Barnes studied the notebook for a few moments more, closed it, and jabbed it with his finger. “This is good. But I will have to take it for evidence.”

  “Oh, dear. I really need it for the trans
cription project, and I haven’t even read it all the way through yet.”

  “Let’s get a copy made, one you can work from, and I’ll make sure this one stays safe. When the case is closed, you can have the original back.”

  “It’s not actually mine, you know, it’s Helene’s. Part of the terms of Olivia’s will, Helene got all the contents. I’m just an employee.”

  Barnes nodded. “Of course. I’ll talk it over with her, then.” He paused, and stared out the window of the breakfast nook, as if determining how everything fit together. “Keep these thoughts to yourself for the time being. As I said before, everyone is a possible suspect until we can eliminate them, no matter how unlikely, even yourself and Mrs. Dalmier. More importantly, the two of you might be in danger, as you’ve already come to realize. We are dealing with a violent person, even if the deaths of Mrs. Targman and Mr. Warren were unintended. We are definitely dealing with a desperate person, and we don’t know if they have found what they’re looking for.”

  “Is Simon a suspect, too?” she asked. “I mean, he’s an employee like me, and Helene trusts him so much, he’s almost as much a part of this as I am.”

  “Simon Norwich has been eliminated as a suspect. He was in a plane on his way back from Japan.”

  The news pleased her more than she’d expected. It must have shown on her face, because Barnes smiled with amusement, and Charlotte blushed like a teenager.

  “I’d