“So that’s why I stopped talking to Carl—Carl claimed I’d engineered the whole thing when he was probably the one who did it.”
I looked at Phil. Phil always liked to push the limits. He didn’t need to cheat, but I wondered if he’d be curious to figure out how it could be done.
“I swear Carl accused me out of spite and to cover his own ass. I could only imagine the lies he was spreading to my dad.”
“Why would your father believe Carl over you?”
“Carl claimed he’d overheard a conversation between me and Frank about cheating—a conversation he made up.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Phil. Your father knows you, and Carl was a complete stranger.”
Phil was getting agitated. “What, you don’t believe me either?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“I’m not going to defend myself to you, Ditie. You know I had no reason to cheat. After a long conversation with my dad, Carl backed off his claims, and the school was able to keep the whole thing quiet. You know how much our school hates a scandal.”
“I do.”
“I found out about Carl working for my dad the last time I was here. Dad and I had a big blow up over him, but my father wouldn’t budge. Carl had a job. If I wanted one I could have it. Let the best man win in terms of who might take over the practice. My father has always loved competition.”
I’d need to go into the clinic in a minute, but I could see how distraught Phil was even now, and he wasn’t done talking.
“I couldn’t work in that environment. I hated the guy. He tried to ruin me at every turn.”
It was a pretty good motive for murder. I didn’t say that to Phil. “Are you and your dad speaking now?”
“A little. We’re going to Carl’s funeral together on Friday. Would you come with us?”
“No, Phil. I barely knew Carl and what I did know about him I didn’t like. I’m sorry for his wife, but I’ll see her at the reunion.”
“I’m surprised she’d want to come to that,” Phil said, “so soon after everything that’s happened.”
“Me too, but if it brings her some comfort, then I’m all for it.”
Phil nodded, got out of the car, and walked around to open my door—always the Southern gentleman. He left me with a barely audible goodbye.
Vic caught me as I walked to my office. “I’m glad you came back. We’re slammed. Did you have fun?” She didn’t wait for my answer. She just looked at my face. “Was it really as bad as that?”
I nodded, and she handed me a couple of intake sheets. “New patients. They’re yours.”
“Thanks.”
I found a young boy seated beside his mother. His intake sheet said he was ten, but he looked more like seven or eight. A nurse had recorded his vital signs. He had a low-grade fever and an increased respiratory rate. He looked sick and was struggling to get air. I introduced myself and the mother responded in Spanish. She said the boy had a sore throat and was having trouble breathing. They’d come as asylum seekers two days earlier from Venezuela. I motioned to an interpreter to follow us to the examining room. I looked in the boy’s mouth and saw a thick gray membrane partially covering the back of his throat.
I’d never seen a case of diphtheria, but this sure looked like one. I called in Vic, and she agreed. She also had never seen one and told me how rare they were in the US. She would notify the Georgia Department of Public Health about the suspected case.
We had one room in the clinic at the end of the hall, which we used for isolation, and that’s where we took the boy and his mother. I put on a mask and gloves and hooked him up to oxygen along with an oximeter to check his oxygen level. I could see his effort to breathe ease and his respiratory rate decline as the oxygen filled his lungs.
Vic called the emergency room at the hospital, which was less than half a mile away, and spoke with a physician there. They would run the tests necessary to confirm the diagnosis and start the boy on antibiotics and diphtheria antitoxins obtained from the CDC. My nurse called for an ambulance.
I had the interpreter explain the situation to the mother including my assurances that we could treat her child in the hospital. I asked if she had other children at home and she said no. When I asked if she had any symptoms, she confirmed she was in good health.
The afternoon continued to be busy. I got home around six to find Lurleen, Lucie and Jason standing at the front door, full of news. Mason and Hermione stood behind them. The only creature who seemed indifferent to my arrival was Majestic. He was seated at the screen door observing two cardinals that had settled in my magnolia tree.
“Where’s Danny?” I asked, once I managed to get in the door.
“He’s with Phil,” Lurleen said. “Phil wanted him to check out his hotel room for security issues and go over plans for the next weekend. If something bad is going to happen, that seems to be when Phil thinks it will occur.”
“I’ve had about all of Phil I can take for the moment,” I said.
Mason’s face brightened and then soured again when I mentioned having lunch with Phil.
“Two classmates were eager to catch up with me. They insisted Phil bring me to lunch.”
I sat on the sofa, took off my shoes and curled my feet under me. Lucie climbed up beside me, but Jason couldn’t sit still.
“Wait ‘til you see, Aunt Di,” he said. “I’m a soldier in a war.”
“You’re a bugle boy,” Lurleen corrected. “Show Ditie your bugle.”
Jason ran out of the room and returned carrying a plastic bugle that looked like it was made of brass.
“Looks real, doesn’t it,” Lurleen said proudly. “I found it in a toy store.”
Jason was busy blowing a single note.
Mason brought me a glass of white wine and sat on the other side of me.
“What about you, Lucie? Do you have a costume?” I asked.
“Lurleen said I can help her in her store, so I have a costume for a girl from a hundred years ago.”
I looked up at Lurleen.
“You won’t believe it, Ditie. You know that retro clothing store in Little Five Points. They had the perfect dress for Lucie and one for me. We’ll show you after dinner.”
“Dinner,” I said. “I haven’t even thought about dinner.”
“No problem, I have,” Lurleen said.
Lurleen didn’t cook. “You’re fixing dinner?” I asked.
“Not exactly. I thought we could go to the Varsity. Danny will meet us there in half an hour.”
Mason patted his not so flat belly. “I don’t know, Lurleen. I’m trying to eat a little healthier.”
“What about you, Ditie?”
I took another sip of wine. “I do love their onion rings, but I’d rather eat in tonight. After my lunch out, I want to stay put.”
Lurleen looked a bit ruffled. “But, chérie, I’ve already promised the kids, and Danny will be there.” She brightened. “I’ll take them and you two can have an hour to yourselves.”
“That,” Mason said, “sounds great.”
“I’ll bring you back some onion rings,” Lurleen whispered to me.
I gave the kids a hug and tossed Lurleen the keys to my Toyota. “There’s more room in my car.”
They left in a rush and for a moment I didn’t know what to do with the sudden calm.
“You look tired,” Mason said to me. “Hard day at work?”
“Busy and one pretty sick child, but not bad. I hate to break my day up with a long lunch. And there was something about it that didn’t sit well with me.”
“Did it have to do with Phil Brockton?”
“No. Phil is the same person he’s always been, although perhaps I’m seeing him more clearly now. No, it wasn’t him. He did tell me about the split with Carl.” I told Mason the abbreviated versio
n.
Mason waited for me to continue.
“It was a funny feeling I got about Ryan and Harper Hudson. They seemed to be disconnected in some way—I don’t know if I can explain it. Maybe after years of marriage that’s what happens to a couple.”
Mason shook his head. “If that’s a way to say we shouldn’t ever get married save your breath. We’re getting married. Someday.”
“Someday will be wonderful,” I said. “Let’s see if I can find us some healthy leftovers. Better yet I made Captain Sanderson’s Boiled Pork and Bean Soup from an 1800s cookbook. We’ll see if it’s good enough for the party.”
It was. We both agreed. I was not one for false modesty.
Mason and I talked a little about our work day. He was in the middle of a case involving the murder of a Buckhead socialite. It had made national news and was the kind of case Mason often got pulled in on. I asked him what the Gordon County investigator was making of the cannon explosion.
“Barden said the experts are only adding to the confusion. It’s still possible it was an accident. It seems the inside of the barrel had a thinned area, maybe natural wear and tear or maybe man-made. The experts don’t know for sure yet. Phil was the one who was supposed to inspect the cannons, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, and he’s a very meticulous guy,” I said. “I can’t imagine he’d miss something like that unless it was hard to detect.”
“Given your story about Carl Thompson and Brockton’s father, do you think maybe he didn’t miss it?”
“You’re asking me if I think Phil could have committed cold-blooded murder?”
“I am.”
Chapter Seven
I didn’t answer Mason right away. Did I think Phil could possibly be guilty of murder? He was outraged at Carl, that much was obvious. And to lose the respect of his father—that might be a blow Phil couldn’t tolerate.
“I don’t know, Mason. I dated Phil for six years. Could I date someone capable of murder?” I threw up my hands. “In the end, I felt as if I never really knew him. He didn’t give me a clue he was leaving Atlanta, and then over dinner in a fancy restaurant, he told me he was walking out of my life.”
“Are you sorry it didn’t work out?” Mason asked.
“It’s the best thing Phil ever did for me, although I didn’t know it at the time.” I squeezed Mason’s hand. “I didn’t realize I was waiting for you, but I was.”
“So, do you believe Brockton could be a murderer?”
“Being self-centered doesn’t necessarily make you capable of murder. I do know estrangement from his father might push him over the edge.”
We heard the brief honking of my Toyota Corolla, followed by doors slamming, feet scrambling up the walk. Hermione whined until the door was opened and Lucie and Jason burst through it.
“What will you have?” Jason said, as if he’d been practicing in the car.
Danny came in and scooped him up. “Not, ‘what will you have,’ Jason. It’s ‘what’ll ya have, what’ll ya have?’”
Jason tried to take up the refrain, but before he could get the words out of his mouth, Danny was tickling him so hard all he could do was squeal.
Lucie was wide-eyed. “It’s just like you said it would be. It’s enormous! You can sit in your car and a waitress will come up to you to take your order, but Danny said we needed to go inside to get the real . . .”
“Atmosphere,” Danny supplied.
“Everyone came up to the counter to order their hotdogs and hamburgers and French fries, “ Lucie said, “and the people behind the counter kept asking us, ‘What’ll ya have? What’ll ya have?’ I want to eat there every day.”
“Now look what you’ve done, Lurleen,” I said.
“It was Danny’s idea. You know me, chérie, I prefer a nice healthy salad. But Danny, mon cher, can’t resist the French fries.” She pulled out a Styrofoam container. “And for you the onion rings. Still hot. We raced home.”
I looked at Mason. “We can’t very well let these go to waste.”
“No, we can’t.”
While Mason and I ate, Lurleen and Lucie left to put on their costumes. Lucie appeared first in a long cotton dress that buttoned up to her neck with a bonnet tied under her chin. She looked adorable. Lurleen followed two minutes later in a far more modest dress than I expected—long sleeves, high neck with multiple tucks and gathers in a checked burgundy.
“No belle-of-the-ball costume for you, Lurleen?” I asked.
Lurleen made a face. “Danny says I must be a store keeper, a sutler, and that means I must wear practical clothes.”
“Well, you both look wonderful,” I said and meant it. “But you’re going to be very hot this weekend. It’s supposed to be close to 90 degrees, and with all this humidity I don’t envy you two.”
“What are you talking about, Ditie? I got an outfit for you too. You have to help me in the shop.”
All I could do was sigh and finish off the onion rings.
I helped Lucie out of her dress and got both children tucked in bed before nine. When I came back to the living room, Danny was in the middle of a long discussion about cannons used in Civil War reenactments.
“So, you see Mason, it could all have been done deliberately, but it may be difficult to prove. Phil swears he inspected each of the cannons the morning before the event started.”
“Hmm,” was all Mason would commit to. “You’ve told Officer Barden about this?”
“Didn’t need to. He’s the one who told me. I did talk to all of the reenactors near that particular cannon immediately after the explosion when I cordoned off the area. Seems friends stick together on the battlefield.”
“And?” Mason asked.
“They appeared to be genuinely shocked. Maybe Sally Cutter most of all. They all swear Phil is the most competent organizer they’ve ever seen. That’s both a compliment and damning, since they say to a man those cannons should have been in good working order.”
“Did you learn anything useful, Danny?” Mason sounded irritated.
We all stared at him.
“No disrespect, Detective, but I didn’t think this was your case,” Danny said.
“It’s not, but it seems you’re all heavily involved, so I might as well be too. I know the Gordon County Sheriff. He wouldn’t mind some help as long as we don’t interfere with Barden doing his job. There will be a police presence at the Battle of Tunnel Hill on Saturday.”
Picking up on Mason’s train of thought, I pressed Danny a little. “Did anyone seem nervous about the investigation or especially relieved Carl was dead?”
“Not that they showed me. You were there, what did you think?”
“I told you what Sally said—that Phil hated Carl and that he made sure Carl was alone on one side of the cannon, the side that split apart. She seemed pretty anxious to put the focus on Phil.”
Danny nodded. “That’s the impression I got as well. Apparently, it’s some kind of honor to pull the lanyard. Phil was supposed to do it, so why he let Carl do it is a mystery.”
“According to Phil,” I said, “he was trying to please his father, do the right thing, so when Carl asked to pull it, Phil agreed.”
“Why would Carl ask to do that?” Danny said. “Carl had never been to a reenactment before. He knew nothing about how cannons worked. He was as ignorant about them as you are, Ditie.”
“Thanks, Danny, but it’s a good question. I wouldn’t even know what a lanyard was if you hadn’t explained it to me, so who explained it to Carl?”
“And why was he the only one on that side of the cannon?” Mason asked.
“Phil told me that was happenstance,” I said.“He was a man or two short. The others knew to turn their backs when the lanyard was pulled and move back from the cannon. They just happened to be on the other side. Phil acknowledged he moved as far
from Carl as he could get. He said he was furious about the whole thing.”
“You got any more, Danny?” Mason asked.
Danny shook his head. “I know Investigator Barden and you know the Sheriff. We can keep on top of things.”
I stood up.
“Good. Now, all of you need to let me do some baking tonight.”
“Need any tasters?” Danny asked.
“I don’t think so.”
They left, and I went to the kitchen to sort through my recipes. What would sound good on a hot July evening? Soup wasn’t the best idea, but Captain Sanderson’s Boiled Pork and Bean Soup turned up more than once in my search for old recipes online. Mason and I both thought it was delicious, and I could certainly make it in big batches. Biscuits were easy, and Ozark Pudding sounded simple and tasty. I’d serve homemade ice cream, tea cakes and filled cookies. It would be a modest spread but if I knew this group they’d appreciate the attempt at authenticity. After they had a couple of beers, I expected they’d be pretty content. And who knew what Mason’s mother would bring? Whatever it was, it would be delicious.
I made up a new batch of tea cakes, which gave me time to think. If Carl was murdered, was he the intended victim or was Phil the target as he claimed? Did Phil hire Danny because he really was afraid for his own safety or as a way to convince everyone he was innocent?
Lucie brought me out of my reverie. “Aunt Di, is something burning?”
I grabbed a batch of tea cakes out of the oven. They were a dark brown. I’d let them cool before I threw them away.
“What are you doing up?” I asked.
“I had a bad dream.”
I sat down on a stool and took her onto my lap. She was too old for that usually but not when she was scared. “Tell me about it.”
“Something bad happened in a war. A big explosion. I was all alone and someone was hurt.”
I hugged Lucie. “You’ve been hearing too much about what happened this week. I’m sorry about that. You don’t have to go on Saturday if you don’t want to. The three of us could do something else.”
Lucie shook her head. “Mommy said don’t ever be scared. Face what you are afraid of and march straight ahead.”
Into the Frying Pan Page 7
