The Deadly Art of Love and Murder

by Linda Crowder

  “Dan, how can I help you?” My words sent ripples of whispers through the room.

  “Penal code says I have to feed him,” said Dan. “Thought I’d see if your mom could whip up something for him.”

  “That’s cruel, Dan,” said my father. There was scattered laughter. Everyone who had eaten tonight asked who was cooking before they ordered because they’d seen Bent guarding City Hall. “I’ll see what Mel has left.”

  The uncomfortable silence descended again as soon as Dad left the room. “Dan, you two might be more comfortable in the kitchen.” Dan looked around, as if seeing the crowd in the dining room for the first time. He nodded and pulled Alex with him through into the kitchen. I turned to the diners, friends, all of them. “Show’s over, guys. Anybody need more food?” Silence, as people looked at each other, heads shaking. “Great. Finish your cake. Coffee’s up here, help yourself. Leave money on the tables when you go. See you in church Sunday.”

  I dropped the dishtowel I’d picked up to wipe down the counter and headed for the kitchen. The murmurs behind me returned to an almost normal level. Alex was sitting on the stool Mel had vacated and Dan was leaning on the counter beside him, though I noticed he was far enough away Alex would have had a hard time grabbing his gun if he tried to lunge for it. Mom was staring at Alex while Mel was at the grill making burgers. Dad had gone to the back door to talk to the guards posted there.

  “I’m done out there, Mel,” I said, joining her at the grill. “Let me help.”

  “Fries,” she said, nodding to where two baskets were bubbling in the hot oil.

  I finished the fries while she built the burgers. I handed the plates to my mother, who put Dan’s in front of him, but held Alex’s. “Alexander Tilamu,” she said, “you should be ashamed of yourself, asking my daughter to feed you after what you’ve done.”

  “Marcie,” said Dan.

  “No, I don’t care, Daniel. Mrs. Nash was a friend of this family. What do you have to say for yourself, Alexander?” She emphasized each word with a wave of the plate. My dad caught it on ‘say’ and slid it over to Alex. She glared at him before finishing her sentence.

  “Marcie, you can’t ask a person questions when he’s in police custody.”

  “Why not, Robert? I want to hear directly from him what was so important that he would take the life of a gentle, loving woman who was never anything but his mother’s friend and a companion to his father during his grief. Tell me that, Alexander Tilamu.”

  Alex hadn’t looked up even once as my mother ranted. His hands rested on the table, his food untouched. Mel and I exchanged looks, holding our breaths to hear what he would say. Judging from how loudly my mother had voiced her demand, I’d guess most of the folks in the dining room beyond were wondering if Alex would give her an answer.

  “I don’t know what to say, Mrs. King,” Alex said at last, disappointing the dining room because I could barely hear him and I was standing four feet from him. He pushed his plate away. “Dan, I’m not hungry.”

  “I’ll box it up,” I said, mostly because I couldn’t stand to not be doing anything. I pulled down two boxes, because Dan hadn’t had a chance to eat either, and after looking at Dan, gave them both to Alex, who nodded his thanks.

  “Where are they?” A woman’s voice, high pitched and bordering on hysterical, flooded in from the dining room.

  “Don’t let her in here!” shouted Alex. Dan put a hand on his gun and I stepped protectively in front of Mel, who slapped my shoulder and told me to stop blocking her view.

  A tall, well-dressed woman burst into the kitchen, the guard from the front of the restaurant hurrying in behind her along with a sizable number of the people who’d been left in the dining room when I’d gone into the kitchen. At least, the few who could fit pushed into the kitchen. The rest pressed against the door like the crowd at a rock concert trying to see the band after the show.

  “Elizabeth Anne Buchanan,” said my mother, using the same voice she used when Mel or I were in big trouble, “what are you doing shoving your way into my daughter’s kitchen?”

  “Don’t you talk to me like that Marcia King,” she answered. “Your daughter works for me, don’t forget. I’ll go anywhere I please.”

  “Yes, let’s talk about that, Elizabeth.”

  “It’s Anne!”

  “You have been collecting rent fraudulently ever since your father died. What do you have to say about that?”

  “Marcie!” Dan tried, but he’d have as much luck standing between two charging moose and persuading them to turn around.

  “I’ve been doing no such thing,” Anne replied. “I don’t care what any piece of paper says, that house is ours. My father built that house for my mother, not some hussy who murdered her husband to get her hooks into him.”

  This set off a lot of talk in the crowd beyond the kitchen doors so I came to Mrs. Nash’s defense. “She never killed anyone, Anne. Your father sold her the house because she loved it and you didn’t.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “I know that every time I called you or your brother, asking you––begging you these past few years––to let me fix what was broken, you said you didn’t care. All you ever cared about was the money and that’s all you care about now.” I turned my attention to Alex. He was sitting with his head on the table, his arms over his head as if to shield himself from his sister’s words. “You killed her for nothing, Alex. You killed that beautiful old woman and you’ll never get a dime because that house was never, ever yours.”

  “That’s enough!” Dan’s voice broke through the collective noise of the assembled crowd. “Go home, all of you, do you hear me? Go home!”

  He signaled the guards and except for Bent, who’d come in from the back door when he heard Anne shouting, they herded the townspeople out of the kitchen. I heard the bell chiming in the dining room as the room cleared. There was a silent hostility in the kitchen, broken only by Alex, who seemed to be sobbing or choking, I couldn’t tell which. Mom and Anne stood glaring at each other, while Mel and I huddled on the far side of the room. Dad stood with Bent near the door, my brother-in-law with the steely stare on his face I’d only seen once before.

  When the chimes finally stopped, Dan looked at those of us who were left. “I am not, repeat not, going to try this case in public.”

  “There isn’t any case,” said Anne, her voice straining with the effort to control it. “My brother did not kill that woman.”

  “That’s enough, Anne.” Alex’s voice was weak and she ignored him.

  “You’re responsible for this,” Anne said, turning on Dan. “By the time my lawyer gets through with you, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

  “Here’s my card,” said Dan, holding it out to her, “have him give me a call.”

  Anne slapped the card away from him. “Come, Alex. We’re getting out of this two bit town.” She pulled his arm.

  Bent stepped up to her, his shotgun in a ready pose. “Step away from him, ma’am.”

  Anne tugged at Alex, who pulled his arm out of her grasp. “Stop it, Anne. This isn’t one of your stupid community theater shows.” He held his hands up to her, wrists together as though he were wearing handcuffs. “I’m under arrest. For murder.”

  She took a step back, stunned by her brother’s outburst. “That’s... that’s ridiculous. My attorney––”

  “Dumped you because you couldn’t pay his bills. Don’t you think I already called him? Just get out of here, Anne. Dan, get me out of here.” He shoved past his sister and went to stand by the door. Bent opened the door for Alex and, along with the guard who’d remained outside, escorted Alex out.

  The door banged shut behind them, setting Anne off on a tear jag. “It’s all your fault,” she choked out as she sobbed. I wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but from the look on my mother’s face, I didn’t think she cared.

  “Anne, do you have a place to stay while you’re in Coho Bay?” I asked, trying
to diffuse the situation.

  “Caribou, what are you saying?”

  “Mom, it’s too dark for her to head back to Juneau tonight.”

  “I don’t care if she sleeps in her boat. I don’t care if she sleeps on a bench on the boardwalk. She is not setting foot inside any property owned by this family.” She turned to look at Anne, who was still sobbing. “That includes this property. Daniel, please escort this trespasser out. There. Charge her with trespassing and she can sleep in the cell next to her brother.”

  “We only have one cell, Marcie,” said Dan and if I didn’t know him better, I’d say he was trying not to laugh.

  “Well, that’ll be cozy then. Just get her out of here.” Mom went past my dumb-struck father and stomped her way up the stairs.

  “You need me, Dan?” asked Dad. Dan shook his head. “I’d better go see if I can calm her down, though I can’t really say she said anything I wasn’t thinking.”

  I looked at my dad in surprise, but he just winked at me and headed up the stairs. “Mel, you go up too. I’ll finish up here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s just dishes. I’ll be up in half an hour.”

  “All right. Dan, don’t let Bent stand guard duty all night.”

  “He doesn’t listen to me either, Mel, but I’ll try.”

  She went upstairs and Dan and I stared at Anne Buchanan, who had continued to sniffle while my family had said their good-byes. “Why all the drama, Anne?” I asked once I was sure Mel was out of earshot.

  “It may be drama to you, Cara, but it is terribly real to me. How would you feel if someone accused your brother of murder?”

  “I’m sure it must be upsetting for you, but barging in here causing a scene isn’t doing Alex any good.” She sat on the stool. Dan took a step back, nodding at me to continue. “You must have been shocked to find out the title on the house had changed. I know I was.”

  “Shocked isn’t the word for it.”

  “Did you ever wonder why you weren’t contacted by the probate attorney when your father died?”

  “I did wonder, but I assumed my father had left the house to Aggie. She’s the oldest and she was always,” her voice cracked. Genuinely, this time, I thought. “She was always his favorite. Whenever they came down to visit, they’d always go to Aggie’s house. Alex and I had to go there if we wanted to see our parents.”

  “That must have galled you.”

  “It was inconvenient, that’s all. I went, of course, when Aggie called and told me mother was ill. We tried to convince daddy to let her stay in D.C. and go to a real hospital. Aggie was convinced it would have saved her, but daddy told us mother wanted to go home. Aggie was devastated when mother died. She was so angry, she refused to go to the funeral.”

  “What about you? Were you angry?”

  “Not then.”

  “You came then? To your mother’s funeral.” She looked sharply at me. “I was a kid. I don’t remember the funeral.”

  She hesitated. “I wasn’t able to come. I wanted to, of course, but I just wasn’t able to make it.”

  “My parents were happy to see you last week, after Mrs. Nash died. They hoped you or Alex might want to move back here.”

  “Ha! This place,” she gestured at the kitchen as though it represented all of Coho Bay, “may be enough for you, but it’s hardly big enough to keep a fly busy. I prefer Seattle.”

  “Alex stayed over, but I didn’t see you the next day at the funeral.”

  “I took a walk. It didn’t take long to remind me what I hated about this place so I told Alex he could find his own way home when he was ready. I took the ferry back to Juneau and flew home.”

  “Why would Alex say Mrs. Nash killed your mother?”

  She looked at me, then down at her hands. “When we heard about the house, I was angry. I may have said something like that.”

  “But you don’t really think that.”

  “There had to be some reason Daddy would cut his own children out of his will in favor of that woman. I looked her up. Her husband died the year Mama did. Some freak accident. It sounded fishy to me.”

  “But they never married. They were friends, that’s all.”

  “On Daddy’s part, maybe. Maybe it sickened him to think she’d kill to be with him.”

  “Anne,” I put my hand on her arm, “I was old enough to remember Doc and the summers when he and Mrs. Nash were both here. They were friends. She didn’t kill anyone.”

  She looked at my hand and when she looked up at me, the hate in her eyes was like a slap. I pulled back as though I’d been touching a flame. “You’re wrong.”

  “Come on, Mrs. Buchanan,” said Dan, “let’s see if I can find you a place to sleep tonight and we’ll get this worked out in the morning.”

  She stood up and straightened herself. Though she came only to eye level with him, she seemed to be staring down at him. “I am fifty-eight years old, Daniel Simmons. I’m quite capable of finding my own way in the world.” She marched through the doors to the dining room. I followed as far as the counter. As she reached the front door, she turned to look at me and again her eyes held a look of pure hatred. “You’ll be sorry you ever crossed my family, Cara King.”

  I didn’t know I was shaking until Dan put his hand on the small of my back. “Don’t let her scare you,” he whispered.

  “I don’t get it, Dan. She’s a hissing, snarling tiger, then she sobs and plays the loving sister, then suddenly she’s looking daggers at me. I don’t get it.”

  “I think I do.”

  I turned and found his arms around me reassuring. “What?”

  “I’m not sure yet. There’s something going on here that doesn’t sit right, but I don’t think you’re in danger.”

  “Not with Dad and Bent around.”

  “And me.” There was something in his tone and when he leaned down to kiss me it sparked.

  Chapter 12

  I couldn’t sleep. I suppose, all things considered, that shouldn’t have been a shock but when I finally gave up staring at the ceiling and went downstairs, the fact that it was two in the morning came as a surprise. Bent had come home at midnight. I’d heard him and poked my head out of my little guest room to see whether anything exciting had happened after he’d taken Alex away.

  “Not a thing, little sister,” he’d answered, keeping his voice down to avoid waking the others.

  “Did Anne go see him?”

  “She’s camped out in the lobby, sleeping on that nasty couch.”

  “Seriously?”

  “She wanted to sleep in the cell with Alex, but Frank told her to get over herself.”

  “Frank was there?”

  “He’s standing guard until two, then Chuck’s taking over until Dan comes in. Practically had to carry him outta there to get him to go home. Man needs to sleep once in a while.”

  “So do you.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he said, disappearing into the bedroom he shared with Mel.

  Now, standing in the kitchen, I stared at the number on the clock and decided to go find Frank. I’m not entirely sure why I decided to go, but I found myself a short time later standing in front of the gallery, watching Frank leave City Hall and cross the road. “What are you doing here, Cara? You’ll catch your death of cold.”

  “Been there, done that,” I joked. It wasn’t much of a joke, but it kept my teeth from chattering. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “So you climbed out of a warm bed to come stand in front of City Hall on the off chance I’d be coming out right about now?”

  “Bent told me you’d be getting off at two.”

  The grin spread slowly across his face. “Might that be why you couldn’t sleep?”

  It was a good thing it was too dark for him to see me blush. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the Tilamus. This whole thing is crazy.”

  “Let’s continue this discussion upstairs, before you turn into an icicle.” He led me around the building and
I waited while he unlocked the door. Considering it was my own apartment, it was a strange feeling. “I heard about Anne.”

  “It was crazy, Frank. I get that she didn’t want him to talk without an attorney and my mother really was out of line going after Alex like that.”

  “I heard she was scary-good.”

  I laughed. “She really was. I thought Dan was gonna have a stroke when she asked him why he killed Mrs. Nash. Would have been nice if Alex had the guts to have told her.”

  “Couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise with his sister there, is what I heard.” Frank pulled a beer from the fridge and offered me one, but I shook my head.

  “She was even worse than Mom. Every minute a different mood. If you don’t like this Anne, wait ten minutes and you’ll get the next.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Her sister Aggie thought they got the house and they thought Aggie did, and since the two sides weren’t talking to each other, nobody put two and two together. When I started sending Alex and Anne the rent money, they just shut up and took it.”

  “Nice family.”

  “But why on earth did Alex think he could get away with selling it? He hadn’t spoken to Aggie in years. How was he going to get her to sign off on it?”

  “Maybe Anne was going to sign it for her.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. She’d have to fake an ID, but I guess that wouldn’t be too hard.”

  “Is she the type?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  “So the question becomes when did they find out Aggie didn’t own the property? If we believe Dickerson, it was when he and Alex showed up at the end of the season.”

  “You already pointed out that Alex wouldn’t have taken her word for it. He’d check the title records.”

  “Then he’d have to discredit Mrs. Nash. Accuse her of getting the property as part of an illegal transaction so he could get it back or maybe intimidate Olivia into giving him the property outright. She is a soft-hearted kind of woman.”