Lexie Starr Cozy Mysteries Boxed Set

by Jeanne Glidewell

  Chatting with Steve and Eleanor over supper, we learned they planned to spend the following day at the riverboat casino in nearby St. Joseph. They were anxious to try the casino's big buffet so they wouldn't be around the entire day, including dinner. Tomorrow was Sunday, when the casino restaurant offered all the seafood you could eat on the buffet, which appealed to Steve. I was sure they'd be happy to try any buffet after my dinner fiasco. Eleanor told me the buffet offered a wide variety of fresh vegetables and a great salad bar, also. I was sure Stone considered inviting himself along with the Dudleys for the Sunday buffet, after my disastrous dinner.

  I found out later Stone had already made plans for Sunday. As I was washing up the plates, so I could wash them again in the dishwasher, he told me he and Wyatt were going to tow Wyatt's boat down to Smithville Lake so Wyatt could try out his new purchase. While there, they were going to see if they could catch a mess of crappie. Wyatt thought, other than during the spring spawn, fall and winter were the best times to fish for crappie. Stone had taken up fishing with Wyatt on occasion, and I was glad to see he enjoyed it. Fishing was now the closest thing Stone had to a hobby.

  "I'll barbeque the steaks on Monday, and we'll have crappie on Tuesday, if I can catch enough of them," Stone promised. "If not, I'll buy some tilapia fillets at Pete's Pantry. Can you fix something Eleanor will eat? Vegetarians can be such a pain in the ass, can't they?"

  "Yes, I'm finding that out right now. I've never had to cook for one before."

  "Well, hang in there. They'll only be here for a week or so."

  "Thank God," I said, before changing the subject. "How can you spend the whole day fishing when we have this murder investigation going on? For that matter, how can Wyatt get away? Isn't he on the investigating team?" I asked. It seemed to me as if the detectives were not giving enough attention to Walter's murder case.

  "Yes, but tomorrow is his scheduled day off," Stone said. "And there really isn't much I can do regarding the investigation. You'll have the entire day to yourself, Lexie. You can drive down to Shawnee and pick up some clothes for the funeral, and then spend rest of the day reading and relaxing."

  "Well, I do plan on going home to pick up some clothes, but I think I'll spend the afternoon asking a few people some questions." Damn! Why'd I have to say something like that, instead of just agreeing with his ideas for my day?

  "Oh, no—" Stone said with an exaggerated groan, followed immediately by an exaggerated sigh. "Why does that make the hair stand up on the back of my neck?"

  "I have no idea."

  "Listen, Lexie, you know how much I worry about you. And we both know how much trouble you tend to get yourself into without even trying. Let the police do their work. I'm sure they'll have a suspect in custody shortly. You could use a day of R and R, couldn't you? You've been putting in a lot of hours here at the inn."

  "Not that many, really, and I've enjoyed every minute of it. Besides, the Rockdale Police Department is very rarely called on to investigate murders, other than the ones that occur at your establishment," I said, rather cruelly and sarcastically. "It wouldn't hurt to see what I can find out that might give them the tip they need to make an arrest. The police department hasn't made any progress so far. I promise I won't do anything risky or crazy."

  "Oh, I can't tell you how much I'd like to believe that, Lexie. You're an adult and I can't tell you what to do, but it would mean a great deal to me if you could manage to not risk life and limb to try and identify Walter's killer," Stone said. "I suppose asking a few questions can't hurt, as long as that's all you do. Please try to keep your impulsive nature in check. Who are you planning to visit tomorrow?"

  "Walter's sister, Sheila, for one, and his father, Clarence, if I can track him down," I said. "I probably need to represent the inn and extend our condolences anyway. If they seem open to it, I will do a little probing to learn more about their relationship with Walter. I surely can't get into any trouble asking a few simple, innocuous questions."

  "Famous last words," Stone muttered, as he turned around and left the kitchen.

  * * *

  Wyatt picked Stone up before sunrise Sunday morning, and the Dudleys left for the casino soon after. I didn't want to show up on Sheila's doorstep too early in the day, so I lingered over multiple cups of coffee. I found myself singing Led Zeppelin songs and skipping down the driveway to pick up the daily paper. As hard as it was to do, I turned off the coffee maker and poured out the remaining coffee in the carafe, which didn't amount to much. I would make a fresh pot when I returned home.

  The front page of our local paper had a small article about Walter and mentioned that an intensive investigation was taking place. How intensive could it be, when not one detective had even been back to the inn? Well, except for Wyatt, who'd only stopped by to devour most of the leftover pork roast.

  I had a wooden coffin taking up space in the parlor and wanted it gone as soon as possible. I was tired of avoiding the room. The fake coffin hadn't bothered me a bit until someone actually died in it. Thinking about the coffin reminded me tomorrow was Halloween. We didn't know how many trick-or-treaters to expect, so I'd bought plenty of candy. With Wyatt around so much of the time, none of it would go to waste.

  I scoured the rest of the Rockdale Gazette, surprised to find nothing else on the matter. The paper never really amounted to much, but I was still amazed a town this size could support a daily newspaper at all. Apparently a lot of the citizens supported the paper with subscriptions and ad placements. The front page offered news, or what they could pass off as news, and the rest of the paper was filled with want ads and store ads, and a small section that told who had dinner with whom the previous day.

  The lack of progress on the case only served to make me more determined to find out whatever I could from the list of suspects I was compiling in my little notebook. I'd purchased the notebook when I traveled to New York the previous year. That notebook had come in handy on several occasions, and I was making use of it again now.

  As I read the paper, I absent-mindedly ate way too many miniature chocolate doughnuts. I had vowed to lose ten pounds over the winter, and they weren't going to melt off me if I kept up this compulsive snacking. In my opinion, chocolate is one of the five basic food groups, but I still needed to limit myself to only one doughnut at any given time.

  Before putting the newspaper in the trash, I did a quick scan of the classified ads. Stone and I were looking for a used treadmill, even though we'd both owned treadmills in the past and knew we wouldn't use this one any more than we'd used our previous ones. Like before, we'd use it a couple of times, dust it for two or three years, and then sell it for a few bucks at a garage sale. We were still trying to convince ourselves this time would be different and we'd wear the tread right off it in our attempts to get back into shape.

  With that thought in mind, I closed the doughnut bag, placing it way back in the rear of the snack cabinet. Out of sight, out of mind. Besides, it was time to get the show on the road. I had things to do and people to see.

  * * *

  The first thing I did was check the county phone book for a Roxie Kane. I found several Kanes listed, but no Roxie, Roxanne, or R. Kane. I started with the first one and dialed the number. No Roxie lived there I was told by the man who answered the phone. The second call netted better results. The woman told me her brother-in-law, who lived in Weston, had a daughter name Roxanne, and she was a student at our local college.

  Rockdale was a small town, very small to be a college town, but it drew students from a lot of communities in the surrounding area. The institution was a fully accredited two-year junior college, with surprisingly good athletic teams, and a small school band. It offered the prerequisite courses and a few specialized degrees such as nursing degrees. Many graduates went on to four-year universities, and some to work and train at nearby hospitals. Many eventually earned medical degrees.

  Roxie was working toward a career in medicine, and was already working a
s an EMT part-time, her aunt told me. After we conversed for a few minutes she gave me Roxie's address and phone number in Weston. She still lived with her parents, the nice lady told me. I hung up and called the number I'd been given.

  "Hello."

  "Is this Mrs. Kane?" I asked.

  "Yes, it is. May I ask who's calling?"

  "Actually, I'm calling to speak to Roxie. Is she home?"

  "No," Mrs. Kane said. "This is her weekend to serve in the army reserves. It helps with her college expenses, you know. She reports to Fort Riley one weekend a month."

  "Oh, of course. I knew that. I just didn't realize this was her weekend to serve. Well, thank you, anyway. I'll try her back in a few days," I said.

  "Can I tell her who—"

  Click.

  "No, sorry. You can't tell her who called for her," I said to myself. I'd try again on a weekday, or maybe even run out to her home in Weston. Maybe by then her mother wouldn't answer the phone, or would have forgotten I'd hung up on her.

  Chapter 8

  I hummed along with the Westminster Chimes tune as it echoed inside the walls of Sheila's house. Her house hadn't been difficult to find. The stained, antique toilet still sat beneath the tree in her front yard. Wyatt had been right; the house was due for a makeover. It was in dire need of repair. The steps up to the front porch didn't even look safe. I'd held tightly to the railing as I'd ascended them. The house looked more grayish than yellow, because the paint was peeling so badly.

  After a full minute had passed, I pushed the doorbell one more time and hummed along with the tune once again. There was still no answer. Even though it was Sunday, it was possible Sheila was at work. I climbed back into my Jeep and headed for the nearest "stop and rob," which happened to be a gas station and convenience store at the corner of Third and Sycamore. There I borrowed the phone book and discovered the only pet store in town was right on Main Street, next to a popular antique store.

  A minute or two later, I was parking in front of The Purrfect Pet Shop. It was indeed open on Sundays, and I felt optimistic I'd find Sheila working inside, despite the fact she'd just recently lost her brother. From what Wyatt had said, I knew she needed all the money she could get and wouldn't waste the chance to earn a few dollars. She probably earned overtime on Sundays, maybe even double-time. For her sake, I hoped so.

  There were two young ladies and an older man working in the store. They all wore matching green polo shirts with a Siamese cat embroidered on the back. "Purrfect Pet Shop" was stitched beneath the cat. Other than the help, I only saw one customer in the store, a middle-aged man who was currently watching a young woman net a colorful Oscar and place it in a plastic bag full of water.

  The other young lady had opened the door on a large cage, and was filling a bowl with dog food as three young beagles jumped up and down around her, begging for attention. She petted them each in turn, and then reached for their water bowl. I approached her as she filled the bowl with fresh water.

  "Excuse me, miss," I said. "Could you tell me if there's a Sheila Talley here today? I was told she worked here."

  "Good morning, ma'am," the young gal replied. "Yeah, Sheila works here. She's over helping a customer in the aquarium section. Is there something I could help you with?"

  "No, but thank you, anyway. I need to speak with Sheila when she gets through with her customer. It's more of a personal matter. I will check out the saltwater fish in the large aquarium while I wait."

  "Fine," she said, turning back to close the cage housing the beagles.

  I waited quite a while as the customer picked out fish after fish. Finally he walked toward the counter with numerous water-filled bags with colorful fish in each bag. I walked over to Sheila and stuck out my hand.

  "Sheila?" I asked. As she nodded, and shook my hand, I continued, "I'm Lexie Starr. My partner owns the Alexandria Inn, where your brother was killed. I wanted to extend our condolences for your loss, and let you know we're willing and able to do anything we can to help you in this time of grieving."

  I noticed Sheila glance at the older gentleman who was at the cash register in the front of the store, tending to the customer with all the fish. When she saw he was busy with the customer, she responded to me.

  "Thank you, Ms. Starr."

  "Stone and I will be at the funeral services on Wednesday. Running the inn keeps us tied up in the evenings but we'll try to attend the wake as well," I said. "We are very deeply saddened by the loss of your brother. It was such a shock to all of us."

  "Me, too. Thank you again," Sheila said. She turned back toward the aquariums.

  "We're doing all we can to assist the detectives in making an arrest. And I'm sure an arrest is imminent. We want Walter's killer apprehended as soon as possible. We are also, naturally, concerned about the image of our bed and breakfast. Once news gets out that a crime has taken place there, it could have a devastating effect on our business."

  Why was I telling her all this when she probably couldn't care less? I needed to stop running off at the mouth and get down to the real reason I was here. She nodded politely, and looked back up at the man at the checkout stand. I realized he must be her boss, and she was worried about being reprimanded for goofing off during working hours. I needed to do something to make it look as if this was not a personal conversation. She couldn't afford to lose her job, and I certainly didn't want to be the cause of such a disaster.

  "Could you show me the angelfish, Sheila?" I asked.

  She replied affirmatively, looking relieved to have something productive to do. I followed her to the angelfish tank. "The beautifully colored angelfish is a freshwater fish from South America," she told me. "They get along well with other aquarium fish, except the more aggressive species, such as the crystal eyed catfish."

  "That's nice to know," I said. "The crystal eyed catfish had been my second choice. So, were you and Walter close?"

  I seemed to catch her off-guard with my question, and she stammered a nervous response. "I guess so," she said. "Well, not really. We really didn't see each other all that often. We never had much in common. I was five years older than Walter."

  "Do you know of any enemies he had? Maybe someone with a grudge against him for some reason? Do you have any idea of anyone who'd want to kill your brother?" I asked.

  "No, nothing like that. I don't know of anyone who didn't like him. He was polite, courteous, and never in any trouble. I just can't imagine who would want to kill Walter. He had an awful lot of friends at the college. He was always popular at school."

  "Who, beside you, could stand to benefit from his death?"

  Sheila seemed to get the idea I had a personal agenda and was not here looking for a new pet. She made a move as if to walk away, so I pointed at the tank, and said, "I'll take one of the angelfish."

  "Just one?"

  "Yes, please. Small tank, you know."

  "Okay," was her short, clipped response. "I may stand to benefit from his death, and I may be hurting for a little cash right now, but not enough to kill someone. And I would never, ever hurt my own brother—not for any amount of money."

  "No, I'm sure you wouldn't. Are you going to be responsible for all of the interment costs?" I asked.

  "No. Our mother will see I'm repaid, I hope. Or, at least, she will once she gets back on an even keel. I really can't afford to pay for the funeral. I live paycheck to paycheck as it is. I had to put the entire mortuary bill on my MasterCard, and can't afford even the minimum payment on it."

  "I'm sure your mother will repay you," I said, not totally convinced, since Melba still believed Walter was the housekeeper at the hospital. Why would she want to pay for the housekeeper's funeral? "Did you see Walter often, living in the same town as you do?"

  "No, not really," she said. "The last time I saw him was at my mother's house several weeks ago. There was an attorney from St. Joseph there at the time, and he had Walter signing a form to become mom's power-of-attorney when I showed up to check on her.
She has medical and psychological issues, you see."

  "Didn't that upset you? It doesn't seem right to not choose the eldest child for a responsibility of that nature. It would upset me. I just don't understand her choosing Walter to give power-of-attorney status to. After all, Chuck is just her stepson, and you're several years older than Walter."

  "Yeah, five years older, and, well, frankly I didn't understand it either," Sheila said, as she deftly netted the largest angelfish in the tank. "Will this one do?"

  I nodded. What the hell was I going to do with an angelfish? Flushing it down the toilet didn't seem right. I was too much of an animal lover to do that to an innocent fish, which just had the bad fortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  "I think Mom always preferred Walter over me, though," Sheila said, suddenly interested in talking. "He was her baby, and he was a real momma's boy. I always felt Walter had his own bottom line in mind, angling to get the bulk of her estate when she passed. He knew he wouldn't make much of a salary as a teacher and coach. Mom still has a lot of investments she bought with her share of the proceeds from the sale of the lumberyard. Dad used his half to start up a refrigeration business in New Mexico, but she has an investment broker who put hers in stocks and bonds. She even paid cash for her new home."

  "She sounds pretty intelligent and responsible," I said. "Good for her to handle her money so wisely."

  "Well, it's not really her doing. She's in no shape, mentally, to handle her own affairs these days. She hired an overseer to handle most of her affairs, and she keeps that lawyer I mentioned on retainer, too, to take care of any legal matters for her," Sheila explained. "He's always got her filing lawsuits against one company or another. She sued one pharmaceutical company for not calling her daily to remind her to take her medication, naturally a medication they manufactured. Obviously, the case got dismissed, as have the majority of them."