Lucille Pfiffer Mystery Series (Books 4 - 6)

by Tanya R. Taylor

  “What does this symbol mean?” Carla pointed at an odd sketching on one of the pages.

  She and Merlene had taken over the couch since it was bigger; they needed to sit next to each other to peruse the book together. I resorted to the sofa where Nilla kept me company.

  “I see it’s next to some of the names in here,” Merlene muttered as she held the book. “Really tiny. Wonder what it stands for.”

  I’d also noticed that symbol throughout Glenda’s book. It was almost miniscule next to the majority of the names in there. Closely resembling a hexagon with the shape of a cloudy hourglass inside of it with little spears along the perimeter. Very weird looking. None of us had ever seen it before, so Carla did some digging online and eventually came across a picture of the symbol which she found represented some sort of undocumented peace treaty. She further uncovered that it was affiliated with Glenda’s college sorority and so, we assumed Glenda had added it next to some of the names in the book as a note to self that she and that person had arrived at some sort of mutual agreement or that she simply didn’t perceive that individual as a threat in spite of what she had on them.

  We could’ve only surmised.

  “Seems likely that’s what Glenda’s intention was,” Carla said after we’d tried to wrap our heads around it for a while.

  “It’s very likely.” I nodded. “What do you think, Merlene?”

  “I think we can safely eliminate these guys,” she replied.

  Within a couple of hours, we had created a shortlist of eight names from the entire book. Carla had done a super job researching that information. Brittany, the parttime teenage computer genius and hacker had taught her well.

  One of the names without the strange symbol was Mayor Terrance Bradley. The others were: Billionaire Michal Wondorff, Owner of WMP Bank and avid tennis player; Paul Frisca, Pastor at a local mega church; Shayne Munnings, top shareholder and chairman of the local cable company; Dwight “Potcake” Simon, Deputy Sheriff; Ortland Riscoff, Assistant to the Governor; Nate Petula Director of the local phone company where Glenda had been employed and Aaron Yoder, an Amish man living in a community on the outskirts of town.

  “What a healthy list we’ve now got!” Carla arched her eyebrows and sighed.

  I knew she already felt overwhelmed.

  “We’re gonna have to find out where the people on this shortlist were the day Glenda died,” Merlene stated. “Did you get a hold of the autopsy report or at least have her time of death, Lucille?”

  “She died on Thursday, March 5th at 3:23 in the afternoon,” I said. “And I do have a copy of the report my friend at the coroner’s office provided a week ago. It’s in the drawer of my nightstand whenever you want it.”

  “You really do get around, don’t you, Lucille?” Carla seemed amazed. “Obviously, you and Glenda are a lot alike.”

  “Thanks for the compliment, dear. Now, I think we should start with Mayor Bradley since he’s obviously the most suspicious in my eyes.”

  “Mine too,” Carla said.

  Merlene agreed.

  “Which means I’d have to pay the man another visit,” I noted.

  “Why?” Merlene frowned.

  “To question him—that’s why! If we are to get to the bottom of what happened, we can’t hide behind the telephone or the computer. We have to get out there in these people’s faces, look them in their eyes and demand the truth. Once we’ve done the initial leg work to confirm whether or not they were here in Chadsworth at the time of Glenda’s death, if it’s discovered they were, in fact, here, we need to pay them a visit and use the muscle of our intellect to withdraw the truth. And based on how we feel, we’ll discuss what to do next.”

  “Doesn’t sound cut and dry to me,” Carla remarked, “but I guess we have to start somewhere.”

  “It’s like writing a book,” I replied. “A famous author once told me that you can start off with a detailed outline of what your plot’s going to be, then while writing, you discover that the plot has taken on a life of its own that you, the writer, thereafter should follow. That’s how we’re going to tackle this. Everything will fall in place after we’ve taken the initial steps.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Carla nodded.

  “You don’t know any famous writers!” Merlene barked.

  “I certainly do!”

  “Who is it then? Who told you that?” she insisted.

  I paused for a moment. “I really can’t remember the name. It was so long ago.”

  “If the writer was famous, you would not have forgotten the name.”

  “Who says?” I grimaced. “I’m not young anymore, you know? I can get away with forgetting the name of a famous writer!”

  As usual, Merlene sucked her teeth when she thought I was talking nonsense.

  “Was it Stephen King, Lucille?” Carla asked, excitedly. “Or Nora Roberts or Alfred Hitchcock?”

  Merlene looked at her like she was stupid, then shook her head.

  “None of those names ring a bell,” I replied.

  Having some lemonade in between and whatever else Carla went and helped herself to in my kitchen, the three of us spent the next hour brainstorming how we would approach the investigation of each suspect and only when we had settled on our course of action did we call it a day. Carla was able to find out that Mayor Terrance Bradley was in Chadsworth on the day Glenda was killed. We all knew it didn’t mean that he, neither any of the others couldn’t have just hired a hitman, but before we could get to the hitman, we’d need to get to the “brains” behind the hit first. None of us had the impression this mission would be easy, but we were all prepared to give it our best shot.

  5

  _________________

  Much to his dismay, Mayor Bradley had expected me at his office the day after I’d made the phone call and told him that I was coming—two days after Merlene, Carla and I had lain out our plans. I still had his private number since the whole Indian monument thing.

  I knew he wasn’t thrilled to see Nilla and me again, especially after I’d threaten to expose his tightly-held secret to his lovely wife and the world, and Nilla had peed on his shoe the last time she was there. I just couldn’t bear to leave her at home that day and thought that perhaps, she and Bradley could get reacquainted.

  “I thought the last time we saw each other would’ve been the last time,” Bradley said from behind that shiny European oak desk the moment Nilla and I had entered the office. Of course, all of his staff were still enamored with Nilla as we’d walked down the wide hallways and open areas toward Bradley’s office. She obviously still took a liking to them too, but it was clear, she didn’t like Bradley at all.

  “Please don’t put her down,” he added, as I made my way over to a nearby chair with the assistance of the tall, stoic guy who’d accompanied me upstairs to Bradley’s office all those other times.

  “Well, if it’s any consolation to you, Terrance, I didn’t plan on ever being in your company again either, but crucial times once again have propelled me here,” I told him.

  The tall guy immediately left the room and Bradley leaned forward with his arms on his desk; fingers interlaced.

  “The reason for my visit has to do with the sudden passing of a good friend of mine,” I continued.

  “Uh-huh…”

  “Were you acquainted with a woman by the name of Glenda Risdal?”

  “Certainly! I knew Glenda very well.”

  I took that as a good sign. At least he wasn’t denying it.

  “A tragedy how she passed,” he added. “I was beyond stunned when I heard about it.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes.” He nodded.

  Nilla was getting a bit fidgety on my lap, so I put her onto the floor.

  “I told you not to put that dog down!” Bradley barked.

  “Terrance, with all due respect, my dog wants to move about and she’s not in jail having been convicted of a doggy crime, so I’m not about to hold her back. If yo
u’re uncomfortable, I would suggest you sit on top of your desk where she can’t reach you.”

  “That’s absurd!” He scoffed. “This is a government building. Animals are not allowed in here in the first place. Why in the world would you bring one?”

  He kept a good eye on Nilla as she meandered around the room.

  “Shall we get back to the matter at hand?” I suggested.

  He sighed. “Yes. Let’s get to the point. I have a lot of things to do today.”

  I folded my hands atop my lap. “Terrance, were you aware that Glenda knew and was keeping your secret concerning your other family in the U.K.?”

  He appeared shocked by the question. “What is this about?”

  “Were you aware that she knew your life inside and out; your finances, your schemes? Were you aware?” I held my ground.

  “What are you trying to imply, Miss Pfiffer? That I might have had something to do with Glenda Risdal’s death?”

  “I’m not implying anything. I’m seeking answers to my questions.”

  “Then what? You’re gonna threaten to call the police and have me investigated?”

  There was deafening silence in the room.

  He sighed heavily. “Look. I’m not gonna sit here and try to defend myself. I would never kill anyone or have them killed simply because I’m not a murderer. I knew Glenda had a black book with serious and damaging information on a lot of high-ranking officials in this community, including some on me. But she and I had no ill will towards each other and she even was very friendly with my wife, Luann. And if you could see a photo I’d brought here from my house since her death which sits in the far corner of this desk, you’d see how close she was particularly to my daughter, Sophia.”

  The photo he mentioned immediately popped into view. It was a close up rendering of Glenda in a sleeveless, tan blouse and a little girl dressed in a white summer dress and matching white hat. They were smiling and hugging each other. The little girl looked like she was around ten years old.

  “Glenda was my daughter’s godmother,” Bradley revealed. “I knew Glenda would not have done anything to destroy that child’s home regardless of how she felt about me and what I was doing outside of my marriage. I had no reason to want her dead.”

  “But you figured she must’ve been the one to enlighten me on your escapades when I was in here last. Didn’t you?”

  “Of course, I wondered if you and Glenda knew each other and if she’d told you about my little secret, but I quickly dismissed that, because like I said, I never felt in my heart that she would’ve done anything to jeopardize my family. Besides, she’s not the only one who knows about my affair. A few other people, though they reside abroad, know about it as well. It’s not the world’s greatest secret.”

  I was stunned by the man’s revelation and really didn’t know what to think at that point. His explanation did sound plausible though and I couldn’t deny it.

  “I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, Miss Pfiffer, but everything I said is the truth. If you choose to get the police involved to launch an investigation, I can’t stop you and I won’t try to. I’m tired of being manipulated like a puppet on a string because of something I’m admittedly guilty of which is infidelity—not murder. Maybe it’s time I just came clean with my wife and let the chips fall where they may.”

  I told Nilla to come to Momma, then scooped her into my arms again. She hadn’t bothered to get within four feet of Bradley this time and I didn’t blame her since he’s so anti-pets!

  Using my cane, I headed for the door. “Perhaps, you should come clean with your wife, Terrance. I’m sure, at some point, Glenda must’ve told you the same thing even though she hadn’t exposed you.”

  He didn’t respond and we left.

  Merlene was waiting in the car for me. Of course, she was driving again.

  “I don’t think he had anything to do with her death,” I said, rather wearily.

  I guess I was relieved and saddened at the same time. Relieved that my gut told me he didn’t go and have my friend killed after she’d tried to help me and saddened that the killer was nowhere in sight.

  I explained everything to Merlene and she agreed that we probably should put a question mark to his name on the suspect list for now. I wondered why Glenda didn’t put that little peace symbol next to his name though if what he related to me was indeed the truth. Could it be that she simply forgot?

  “I don’t like the guy…” Merlene said, “…but I doubt he had anything to do with it either.”

  Carla couldn’t join us since she had to work. She’d gotten a job seven months earlier as Head Librarian at a local library funded by old money from some of Chadsworth’s wealthiest citizens. However, she had a special assignment set for a couple days later which she was about to call in sick to work for.

  6

  _________________

  Carla looked fabulous decked out in her short white tennis skirt and matching top. Never mind her size and all the cellulite on her legs, she was ready to play tennis with one of our town’s richest men. Billionaire Michal Wondorff, owner of WMP Bank spent most days on the tennis court at the private country club and he was always willing to take on anyone who thought they were good enough to beat him. However, if you weren’t his acquaintance, it would be by appointment only. I thought it was weird, but that’s the way Wondorff wanted it and based on what I’d heard, the man always got precisely what he wanted.

  One of Carla’s friends was a member of the same country club as Wondorff and by means of her own invitation, she’d arranged for Carla to play the finance mogul one on one.

  “Obviously, I’m not the only one with connections around here,” I told her as she slid out of her Suburban. I’d sat up front during the drive while Merlene had eagerly opted for the back seat.

  The club’s grounds were picturesque and pristine with the greenest, perfectly manicured lawn I’d ever seen. Tall palm trees and a colorful array of flowering plants complimented the property, and it was obvious to me that only the most meticulous and creative landscapers had been contracted to care for the grounds. There was a large, beige building far back on the land and a smaller one of the same color on its right. In the back were the tennis courts, basketball courts, golf course and pools. The place reeked of wealth.

  “I feel very uncomfortable being here,” Merlene muttered as she carefully got out of the vehicle.

  “Why’s that? These people are humans just like we are!” Carla asserted. “Some might be pompous and all, but shoots! Who cares?”

  Carla seemed to have gotten over her crippling fear quite quickly when she realized she didn’t have much of a choice other than tackle the matter head on. She was now in ninja mode and focused on the task at hand.

  The parking lot was very spacious, but not too crowded at that time of day. We’d arrived at 11:35 and Carla’s match with Wondorff was scheduled for noon. Her friend, Allie, had told her they needed no prior introduction and gave her the instructions for getting from the parking lot to out back where the tennis courts were. With Carla’s gracious assistance, having placed my hand in hers, we all walked over to the main building and were soon greeted by a cheerful brunette at the receptionist desk. What instantly stood out to me was the brazen opulence that welcomed us in the form of an indoor waterfall which rendered the impression that you were seeing hundreds, perhaps thousands of tiny multi-colored stars in the cascade; golden marble tiles which stretched far beyond the room, and apart from the stained, antique furniture, off-white walls littered with framed photos marking various tournaments and events members of the club had participated in. Some of the photos were of film stars, famous radio personalities and I even saw one there of Mayor Terrance Bradley and his beautiful Chadsworth family. I felt the need to specify. It was clear that he was also a member of that esteemed club. I shook my head as I thought of him having a similar photo somewhere in one of England’s country clubs of himself, his mistress and his other children that his fam
ily here knew nothing about. I surely hoped the man would take my advice and straighten out his rather discombobulated life. The task of taking care of two separate families must’ve been humongous and keeping it all a secret from the first family must’ve been the greatest challenge of all.

  I saw a giant chandelier in the adjacent, much larger room and knew if we ventured much further into the depths of extravagance, our senses would be on full alert every step of the way.

  “What can I do for you three fine ladies today?” the young brunette asked, chewing a stick of spearmint gum. I noticed the wrapper next to her computer mouse.

  Carla took the wheel. “My name is Carla Walkes and these here are my friends Lucille Pfiffer and Merlene Bostwick. We have a special invitation from Allie Thorpe. I’m supposed to have a tennis match at noon with Mister Michal Wondorff.

  The girl looked at Carla in that tennis outfit with the most unbelievable glare. I could tell she struggled not to wear her thoughts on her pretty little face, but in my estimation, had failed miserably.

  “Appointment with Mister Wondorff, you say? Okay, let me check the register,” she replied, looking at her computer.

  “Yes! I see all three of you by invitation only.” She smiled, glancing at Merlene and me before her eyes landed squarely on Carla again. “Everything is out back waiting for you, Miss Walkes. Your tennis racket, towels, refreshments, etcetera. Mister Wondorff should be in the back there already; he practically lives on the courts.” She giggled.

  “I heard!” Carla giggled back.

  We were directed to a corridor which led straight out to the rear of the building to where the tennis courts were. The corridor in itself served as means of entertainment, as large flatscreen televisions had been mounted and positioned five feet apart displaying what I call infomercials of the grandiose country club estate and all its amenities. I almost didn’t want to leave the corridor.