by N. C. Lewis
“Yes,” interrupted Millie, “Guess her Achilles’ heel is that she sees the best in everyone. Even people like Tony Dean.”
Everyone nodded in unison. Tanner’s uncle continued. “Ma discovered items from her collection of martial arts ceremonial weapons missing. She feared someone was out to frame her.”
Bob interrupted. “Turned out to be a well-justified fear.”
Tanners uncle continued, “Tanner’s dad suggested Ma go into hiding, at their house, the last place anyone would look. Ma agreed to lie low at the cottage until things became clearer. Anyway, Ma wanted to talk with you about the arrangement, and even set up a meeting.”
Bob jumped in. “Yeah, but I persuaded her not to involve you, and she reluctantly agreed. That’s why I showed up with Millie at the Green Bar Grill. I was watching out for you. The patrons of that place are excitable.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, but didn’t, not quite. What role did Millie play in all of this? And why was Bob involved in the first place? Bob appeared to follow my train of consciousness and continued.
“Ollie, you see, I agreed to represent Ma if things didn’t clear themselves up. Since a kid I’ve known Ma, back in the day when she taught aikido in Oak Hill, Austin. If she needed a defense lawyer, I was ready. That’s what I do, defend the accused.”
Bob’s face became hard, his eyes focused. “Without a shadow of a doubt I knew Ma didn’t kill Tanner. The woman loved that young man. Fortunately, Tanner’s parents and uncle had the same opinion. If those amateurs playing cops in the Medlin Creek sheriff's department dared to charge Ma, I was gonna blow their case out of the water, and those idiots with it. For one thing, Ma was hiding out with Tanner’s uncle, mother and father at the time of Tony Dean’s death.”
Everyone nodded.
“The photos, Bob, what about the photos,” Millie said, “tell Ollie about that.”
Bob smiled, crisscrossing his fingers on his chest. “Well, Ma worked as a forensic photographer, back in the day before digital. Anyway, by instinct Ma took photos with her cell phone when she discovered the body.”
He paused to give me time to digest the words. Then continued:
“Now here’s the interesting thing, the county forensic photographer also took photos. Those images show Ma’s Japanese Tessen war fan next to Tanner’s right hand, in the alley. Ma’s photos do not. Deputy Muller didn’t notice any weapons either when she observed the body.”
Tanner’s uncle could not contain himself. “Yeah, you see Ollie, between the time of the discovery of Tanner’s body by Ma Jenkins and the official photographs, someone, somehow, placed one of Ma’s daggers next to the body. That person was Harry Marsden.”
“What we don’t know,” said Bob, “is how he did it.”
Then a thought struck so hard I sat up straight in the bed. In a jumble of words, I said, “When Ma Jenkins was in the alley, a voice shouted from the gathered crowd that Tanner was alive. The crowd of bystanders rushed forward to offer help. The mysterious voice must’ve been Harry Marsden. Yes, I guess Harry joined the crowd, dropping the knife in the hubbub of activity. That was risky, but if he wanted to frame Ma, the weapon needed to be found at the scene of the crime.”
Bob jumped up. “That’s it, that’s exactly it! In the rush to get away from the crime scene Harry took the weapon with him. Then realizing his mistake, returned to drop it off; but bystanders had already discovered the body by the time he arrived back at the alley!”
There was something still niggling in the back of my mind. I turned to Millie. “When did you find out about all this?”
Millie didn’t answer, instead reached into her handbag and Professor Purple appeared, he gave me a quick kiss then spoke. “Millie had no idea, neither did Madame Bleu. You know, I thought Bob was holding something back when we had dinner at the Green Bar Grill because he was acting kind of shifty, hiding behind the dreadlocks. Now I understand he was being careful due to client confidentiality.”
Professor Purple looked over at Bob and did his best to smile, a sock puppet smile. Bob gave a nervous little wave, he was coming to terms with puppets in his life.
The room became quiet. Everyone turned to face me. Tanner’s uncle scanned my face as if assessing my strength, then leaned in, smiled and whispered, “Tanner’s dad won’t be with us for much longer. He wanted to let you know he is thankful for you, and will pass over in peace now.”
Epilogue
“Home, sweet home,” Millie said, pulling the car to a stop in the dusty lot by the old, long forgotten buildings. I peered out at the place, it seemed so familiar. Across the dusty trail to the little iron gate and into the front yard. Clear of the junk, neat and tidy. Inside, streams of cool air soothed the summer heat. George had done a fantastic job installing the new system.
Each room, freshly painted, with a vase of lilies sitting at the center of the kitchen table. George and Emma with a small team of volunteers had fixed up Ealing Homestead to look brand new. We hugged like sisters as Bodie danced between our feet. As I waved Millie off the cell phone rang.
“Hello Ollie, this is Chancellor Cannington, we met outside of Professor Bingham’s office. Yes, I’m calling to let you know he is on medical leave for the next semester or so. Left the place in a mess I’m afraid. Can’t find your employment contract. Not to worry, want to confirm you are good to start next week? Hope you don’t mind if we sort out the paperwork on your first day.” The start date confirmed, I did a jig of delight, Bodie joined in barking and yapping as I boogied around my new home.
The clock on the mantel struck the hour, I stretched, then back at the desk I surveyed the piles of mail. A large brown envelope from Butter and Dungs law firm, caught my attention.
Inside, a handwritten note from Mr. Johnson said he was making a speedy recovery, much quicker than the doctors anticipated. The fire was a case of arson, but the damage superficial. The Austin Police Department had apprehended a suspect, Andrew Taylor. Video surveillance captured the young man committing the crime. The letter asserted Butter and Dungs would prosecute to the full extent of the law.
The envelope also contained a sealed package from Mr. Castleman. Inside, an embossed certificate which transferred the mineral rights of Ealing Homestead to the new owner alongside a handwritten note which read:
Dear Sir or Madam, I hope your years on the property are as wonderful and enjoyable as the time I spent with my family. There is a shuttered oil well close to the creek. I closed the well several decades ago after oil prices collapsed. Although prices rebounded during my stay at Ealing Homestead, I never found the time to reopen the thing. If prices are at a suitable level when you read this letter it may prove profitable to reopen the well.
A typewritten list of oil well service companies followed. As I scanned the list, I noticed all opened wells for no upfront cost, instead took a commission on production volume.
As I contemplated becoming an oil tycoon, the cell phone rang.
“Dr. Stratford? Am I speaking with Dr. Ollie Stratford?”
“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?”
“Hello, my name is Donna Biggs, the loan officer at Medlin Creek Community Bank. I am calling you rather than going through our former affiliate Harry Marsden. He is well...indisposed at the present, and no longer associated with this company. Anyway, the loan committee reviewed your application last week, it’s approved. Can you stop by our offices tomorrow to complete the necessary paperwork? It appears some of the required documentation was not submitted by Mr. Marsden.”
“Oh yes,” I said, “what time do you open?”
I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, and acknowledged an intimate connection with this place. A property purchased by accident, in a town which claimed the life of a friend, yet, merging out of the mist of disappointment, I could see the shape of a brighter future.
Author Notes
Nothing makes me happier than the thought of a reader finishing one of my books.
So, thank
you!
If you enjoyed this story, I hope you'll leave a review at the retail website where you purchased it. Reviews help readers like you discover books they will enjoy and help indie authors like me improve our stories.
Until next time,
N.C. Lewis
P.S. As an indie author, I work hard to bring you entertaining cozy mysteries as fast as I can. I’ve got many more books in the works, and I hope you’ll come along for the ride.
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Also by N.C. Lewis
CAPITAL OF TEXAS SERIES
The Capital of Texas murder mysteries are set in Austin, the capital city of Texas and can be enjoyed in any order:
Murder in the Bookstore
Murder by the Clowns
Murder through the Window
Murder in the Bullock
Murder under Mopac
OLLIE STRATEFORD MURDER MYSTERY SERIES
The Ollie Stratford murder mysteries are a set in the Hill Country of Texas and offer a light hearted glimpse into small time life. The stories can be enjoyed in any order:
Texas Troubles
Creek Crisis
Bitter Bones
Magic Mumbles
Teddy Tumpin
Double Dimple
Angry Arrow
For an updated list of all books please visit: https://amazon.com/author/nclewis
