Lexie Starr Cozy Mysteries Boxed Set

by Jeanne Glidewell

  "So, Ms. Starr, are you responsible for all this?" Mr. Wright asked. Now he had the same "I told you so" look on his face I'd worn moments earlier. "Why exactly do you feel so responsible? Is it guilt? Negligence? Or what? Are you here to try to talk Ms. Sneed out of her money? What exactly do you have to gain personally from being here, trying to pretend you honestly give a damn about what happens to Melba?"

  "Don't be ridiculous!" I nearly shouted. "I honestly do give a damn, you jerk! Walter was working for me when he was killed. I was at the house when it happened, but I had no idea what was going on in the parlor while I was in another part of the house. That's what I meant by feeling responsible. I had nothing to do with his death, I have nothing to gain from it, and I certainly don't want a dime from Ms. Sneed. Like I said before, I was very close to Walter. I would give anything, and do anything, to bring his killer to justice."

  "Of course you would," he said snidely.

  "At the very least I feel I owe it to Walter to look after his mother," I told the attorney. "Which is more than I can say for the folks at Hocraffer, Zumbrunn, Kobialka, and Wright. I think I should have the authorities check you for an alibi and a monetary motive. You seem terribly concerned about Melba's will, and what will happen to her money if something happens to her. I might also see what I can do to have you disbarred."

  "Humph! Fat chance, lady!" He said as he laughed in disdain. He knew he hadn't technically done anything unjust, remotely illegal, completely immoral, or anything else he could be disbarred for doing. He had pissed me off, and that's about the size of it. Pissing people off was merely part of the job description of a lawyer. There weren't a zillion lawyer jokes for no reason.

  "Watch me, you pompous ass," I hissed.

  With that final declaration I stormed out of the room. I knew I didn't have a chance in hell of getting the man disbarred. Cats would eat with chopsticks before I could pull off a trick like that. But at least my threat gave the creep something to chew on for a while.

  Chapter 15

  I was still fuming when I stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor. Instead of going straight out the door to the parking lot, I turned and followed the signs down a long hallway to the ladies' room. I wanted to splash some cool water on my face to help me calm down, and I had to use the restroom. All the coffee I had consumed in the morning was catching up with me, which was not to say I didn't already want another cup.

  So after using the restroom, I' detoured to the front lobby and picked up a cup of coffee at the little snack station located near the reception desk. There you could buy lattes, frappachinos, cappuccinos, macchiatos, caffe mochas, caffe breves, and a dozen other things I'd never heard of before. I told the gal at the counter I just wanted something hot and strong. She gave me a hammerhead, which she said had a shot of espresso in a regular cup of a Columbian blend. Whatever. It tasted like strong coffee to me, so I was satisfied.

  I got the hammerhead with a lid, because there's nothing I hate worse than spilling coffee down my shirt. I've had to change clothes three times in one hour before because of coffee spillage. I use more Spray 'n Wash than anybody else I know.

  As it turns out, the lid didn't stop me from wearing the entire cup of coffee on my shirt and jeans. Once I'd exited the building, I was paying more attention to drinking my coffee than I was to the cars pulling in and out of the parking lot. I looked up just in time to see a dark-colored sports utility vehicle heading straight for me. Instead of applying the brakes, it seemed to speed up as it got closer to me. The SUV was bearing down on me, and I stood frozen in time for what seemed like a full minute.

  At the last second I leapt to my right as the car swerved slightly to the left, catching me on the outside of my left thigh. The cup flew out of my hand as I was knocked to the ground. Hot coffee rained down on me from above. I remember feeling a sharp pain run up my leg, and the burning sensation of steaming hot liquid soaking through my clothing, just before I heard the engine racing and tires squealing on the SUV as it sped out of the parking lot.

  A woman just leaving the hospital screamed and yelled, "Stop that car! Somebody get a license number!"

  Unfortunately, there was no one else in the parking lot but the two of us, and the car was too far away to see the license number, anyway. She hurried over to check my condition, and helped me get up off the pavement enough to limp over to a grass median strip so I could get out of the line of traffic. She told me she'd be right back with some help and headed back into the building. What seemed like mere seconds later, the lot was filled with police cars and emergency medical personnel. I found it very embarrassing to be the center of attention once again.

  The nice lady who'd come to my rescue was giving a statement to an officer from the St. Joseph Police Department, while two young men in scrubs were checking me for broken bones and lacerations. I had a large, bleeding scrape on my right elbow from striking the pavement, a severe pain in my left thigh, a throbbing right wrist, and a hammerhead dripping off every part of my body.

  I knew I was quite a sight, and it didn't help my embarrassment any to recognize a couple of nurses I'd seen last night in the emergency room. One of them even called me by name as she approached me.

  "Lexie? My, you are having a bad week, aren't you? Would you like me to call that nice gentleman who was with you last night? I'm sure they'll be taking you inside to the emergency room to get some X-rays, and you may be here a while," she said. "You know how that goes."

  "No thanks," I said. "I'll just give Stone a call so he won't worry about me."

  I knew I would have to call him or he would definitely worry about me. He was very protective of me. But I wasn't sure how to tell him I'd just been run down by an SUV and was being taken inside the hospital for X-rays without worrying him.

  The phone rang numerous times before Stone answered. He was breathing hard, as if he'd had to race for the phone. I spoke quickly into the phone, and then there were a few seconds of silence.

  "You've been what?" he asked incredulously. "You're in the hospital again?"

  "Someone ran into me with a dark SUV in the hospital parking lot, and it seems to me like it was deliberate. I'm in the emergency room right now. They just want to make sure my wrist isn't broken, or any other bones, I guess."

  "Tell me what happened, slower this time," Stone said.

  I explained what happened in detail. "Like I told the police officer who questioned me, I couldn't see who was driving the vehicle. I was more concerned with my safety at the time to care who was driving. It all happened so quickly, and I just got the faintest glimpse of the guy behind the wheel."

  "So it was a man driving the SUV?"

  "Well, I'm really not sure," I said. "Something gave me the impression it was a male figure, maybe the size of the body in the driver's seat. But I could be wrong. I think I know who it was though. I don't see how it could possibly have been anybody else."

  "Who?" Stone asked.

  "An attorney from St. Joseph named Sheldon Wright."

  "Who's that?"

  I told Stone about my confrontation with the lawyer in Melba's room. I left out nothing, except maybe the "pompous ass" part. "He was the only person who knew where I was except you, and he had time to beat me to the parking lot, since I stopped to use the restroom and buy some coffee in the lobby."

  "You surely didn't make him mad enough to attempt to harm you, or worse yet, commit vehicular homicide. That sounds to me like it's taking anger above and beyond any reason. If you hadn't jumped to the side when you did, he could have killed you, you know," Stone reminded me.

  "I don't think he meant to kill me, or he wouldn't have swerved to his right at the last moment. I think he just wanted to scare me, or maybe injure me, to put me out of commission for a while. Do you think he could have anything to do with Walter's death, Stone? Could he somehow know I've been asking questions of various people involved in Walter's life?" I asked. "He is bound and determined to get Melba's will changed imme
diately. I'm even worried she might be targeted once her will is updated. I'm wondering if the hospital shouldn't be alerted and a security guard placed outside her door. He should be officially banned from entering Melba's room, at least until a murder suspect is apprehended."

  "I don't think it'll come to that, Lexie. But I do imagine this Mr. Wright could have caught wind of your involvement somehow. None of this makes any sense to me. Who all have you been questioning? Maybe it was one of them. What kind of motive could the attorney have had to kill Walter?" he asked.

  "Maybe he's trying to swindle Walter's mother out of her money. Melba's fairly well off and, in her current condition, it would be easy to pull the wool over her eyes. He seemed like a real opportunist to me, Stone. She's so befuddled right now, it wouldn't take much for him to convince her she needs to make him her beneficiary so he can protect her money for her, or distribute it for her after her death in the manner she tells him to."

  "That seems a little far-fetched, but it's probably as good a motive as anyone else seems to have. And, as you mentioned, he was the only one who knew you were heading for the hospital parking lot, and you gave him ample time to get to his car and wait for you to leave the building. Did you tell the police officers all this?" he asked.

  "Yes, I did."

  "What did they say?"

  "Just that there would be further investigation into the hit and run case. I don't think they really took me seriously about the rest of it. But they are familiar with the Walter Sneed murder case in Rockdale, at least. They told me they first wanted to try to track down the person in the SUV, to charge him with assault with a deadly weapon, leaving the scene of an accident, hit and run, and I don't know what else."

  I explained to Stone how it had been more of a glancing blow than a direct hit, but fortunately, the cops had told me, the front headlight casing had been busted out, according to the evidence left at the scene. This, they thought, could help identify the dark SUV. They'd sent out an APB, or all points bulletin, for officers to be alert for a vehicle matching the description.

  "Good. Hopefully they'll be able to track it down. We'll talk to Detective Johnston about the accident and your suspicions regarding Sheldon Wright. In the meantime, do you want me to come get you? I really think it'd be best if you didn't try to drive after an accident like the one you just had. We can go back and get your Jeep at a later date," Stone said.

  "No, I can drive. It's my left leg that's banged up. I might be here a while though. You know how long it takes to get seen in an emergency room sometimes."

  "I know, believe me, I know. What do I need to do to get supper ready for the Dudleys? The wake is in a couple of hours."

  "I made the casserole earlier. Just warm it up in the microwave and heat up a couple cans of corn. You have your fish to fry also. I'll be home as soon as I can," I promised. I had a wake to attend.

  * * *

  The emergency room was crowded with people harboring a variety of illnesses and injuries. My injuries felt minor in comparison to the ones afflicting many of the patients I saw seated around the waiting room. One young boy had nearly severed a finger, and blood was seeping through the towel wrapped around his hand. Another patient couldn't stop retching into a bathroom-sized trashcan she was clutching tightly to her chest. I had to step outside every now and then to keep from retching myself, just from listening to her.

  My left hip and thigh were still throbbing, and I found it difficult to find a comfortable position in the chair. There were small pebbles embedded in the deep scrapes on my arm, and I kept busy trying to work them out. I needed a cup of coffee in the worst way. I hadn't gotten the chance to drink the last cup I'd purchased.

  The main reason I was waiting in the ER was to have my wrist X-rayed. It was red and swollen, but I really didn't think it was broken because I could bend it easily, even if it hurt like crazy when I did. It wasn't bothering me nearly as much as my hip and thigh. I had half a notion to sneak out of the hospital and drive home. If the pain got worse, I could go to my primary physician tomorrow to have it examined. Time was running out to be examined, released, drive home to Rockdale, and get to the church on time.

  After another forty-five minutes of squirming around in the chair, I'd had enough. If I didn't get out of there soon, I knew I'd never make it home in time to go to Walter's wake. I decided to approach the lady who had checked me in. "How much longer do you think I'll have to wait to be seen by a doctor?"

  "Can't tell you," she replied, blowing a large pink bubble with her gum. "It's first come, first serve, ma'am, unless it's a life-threatening injury. I don't think your swollen wrist is going to kill you anytime soon, so go back to the waiting room and we'll call you when it's your turn."

  "Actually, I just wanted to tell you I'm going to go home. My wrist barely hurts now, and I'm sure it's fine. I'm certain it's not broken, just sprained, if anything. I have important things to do at home. I have to attend the wake of a very close friend this evening, and if I don't leave right now I won't make it there on time. Besides, I don't want to waste the doctors' valuable time when they have so many more critically injured patients to attend to."

  I didn't like the woman's attitude, and it was hard to remain civil and polite. I wanted to tell her so too, but I restrained myself. I also wanted to slap the gum right out of her mouth as she blew a bubble so large it nearly obscured her face. The hospital needed someone with a little more compassion and professionalism in her patient-admitting position. I hoped they'd send me a survey to fill out so I could voice my opinion.

  "I'm pretty sure that's against hospital policy," the woman said.

  "And I'm pretty sure I don't care."

  * * *

  On the way home I stopped at a pharmacy and purchased a wrist brace, some peroxide and Neosporin for the scrapes on my arm, and a dark chocolate Milky Way bar, just because I felt I deserved one. The wrist brace would make it look like I'd actually been treated in the emergency room, because I felt sure Stone wouldn't take my word for it that my wrist was only sprained. The peroxide and Neosporin would keep my scrapes from getting infected. And the candy bar would help calm my rattled nerves. After all, it wasn't every day someone in an SUV tried to run me over and possibly kill me. An added bonus was that the Milky Way took my mind off my throbbing leg and wrist for at least as long as it took to devour it.

  "Are you okay, my love? I've been so worried," Stone said, as he met me at the front door of the Alexandria Inn. "Get in here and let me have a look at you. What did they say about your wrist? I see they put a brace on it. You look terrible, honey."

  "I'm fine, Stone," I assured him. "My wrist is just sprained. And there are no broken bones or internal injuries, just some scrapes and bruising. I'll be back to normal in a few days."

  "Well, that's a big relief," Stone said. "I'll talk to Wyatt at the wake. I have to leave in a couple of minutes because I'm already late."

  "You mean 'we're' already late," I corrected him. "I wouldn't miss this wake for anything."

  "You can't go in your condition, Lexie."

  "Why not? I told you I'm fine."

  "You're limping, for one thing. Your arm is still oozing, and I'm sure you're in a lot of pain. You look really banged up, and more than a bit rough around the edges," he said.

  I looked down and saw not only coffee stains all over my clothing, but also numerous rips in my blouse, and a huge tear down the right leg of my jeans. If a person looked close enough, he could probably also detect remnants of Melba's lunch on my shirt. "Don't worry. I was planning to change clothes."

  "I realize that. Don't be sarcastic. I'm just concerned about you."

  I felt bad, knowing he was only anxious and thinking about me. "I'm sorry, Stone. I didn't mean it to come out that way. I've had a long day. I just meant I won't look nearly as bad once I get into my nice pantsuit, which will cover up my scrapes, and all. I don't really care what others think about the way I look. You know how much it will mean to me to be th
ere at Walter's wake. We don't have to stay long, but I think we should at least make an appearance."

  Stone let out a long exaggerated sigh and said, "Well, you better change quickly if you really want to come. I can't prevent you from attending the wake if you're determined to go."

  "Okay, just give me a couple of minutes and I'll be ready."

  Chapter 16

  The parking lot at St. Mary's Catholic Church was full, and vehicles lined both sides of Cyprus Street. But that's what you should expect when you are twenty minutes late to a wake, Stone told me. No parking was allowed on Fourth Street, so Stone dropped me off at the front door and took his Corvette to park on Elm, the next street over. I wasn't surprised the wake of a young man like Walter would draw a large crowd. Most of the people inside the church looked to be in their upper teens and twenties. Several were dabbing their eyes with tissues. Some were openly crying, and I could hear someone sobbing uncontrollably.

  I'd yet to see anyone I recognized when Stone walked through the door several minutes later. We signed the guest book and went together up to the open casket in front of the main chamber of the sanctuary.

  "He looks good," I whispered, looking down at Walter's body.

  I hate to say a person "looks good" when he's lying dead in a coffin, but the mortician really had done a fine job with Walter. Walter looked much as he had when we'd first hired him to portray a corpse in our own make-believe coffin. He now looked quite a bit older than his twenty years, but, like I said before, death can do that to a person.

  "How are you, Ms. Reed?" I heard someone say. I didn't think anything of it until someone tugged on my sleeve and repeated the greeting. I looked around and saw Paula standing next to Stone in front of the casket. "It's nice to see you again. Have you been here long?"

  "Huh?" Stone asked. "Who?"

  "Never mind, Stone," I said, as I elbowed him lightly in the ribs. I had to give him some clue or he might say the wrong thing to the young gal, which could give away my true identity. "Paula, this is my partner, Stone. Paula and I met the other day when I was working on my investigative report for the newspaper. You know, the article I've been commissioned to write. She's the best friend of Walter's girlfriend, Sidney Hobbs."