Gracie Greene Mystery Box Set

by Jack Parker

  Meredith's face took on a thoughtful look. "John took Robbie's name off their joint account whenever she'd spent too much on clothes. She could always sweet-talk him into putting it back on, but what if he hadn't done it yet when he died?"

  "Robbie thought she could bypass the whole probate thing and take the money," Gracie said. "She could've destroyed the Will and then found out she couldn't get the money. She'd have been stuck, then, and had to probate the Estate when you forced the issue."

  Meredith pointed a finger at Gracie to indicate a good point. "That would explain it! Also, Loretta says you have to finish the probate process before you can claim a Trust. I don't know if that's true, but if it is that would really motivate her."

  "But wouldn't Mr. Redmond's Trustee know she'd had the original Will?" Shawna asked.

  "She would know she'd given it to Robbie," Kelly said. "But she couldn't say what Robbie did with it."

  She probably told him John wanted it," Meredith suggested. "Then she could claim that John tore it up in front of her. Conveniently when they were alone, with not even a floor nurse as witness. And I just remembered something else – Fred told me that Robbie came to his house and took John's business checkbook. That was just a few days before John died."

  "Oh, no, he didn't let her!" Cheryl cried.

  "She told him she wanted the pictures John had displayed in his office, so she could take some of them to the hospital. Fred got a phone call and wasn't paying a lot of attention to her; it was only after she'd left that he realized the checkbook was gone."

  "I guess that was legal," Kelly put in. "Since John was still alive at the time."

  Meredith squinched one eye shut and grimaced. "Technically I suppose, though it didn't seem to do her any good. Well, that could certainly explain what happened to John's Will, but the subject under discussion was Robbie's Will."

  "I have a thought about that," Shawna said. "We're assuming that Jason is the only one in the Will, but what if it's one of the others? That would give them motive, too."

  "Sure would," Kelly said. "But from what I've heard about this family I don't picture Jason trying to shield a sibling."

  "But he does sound like the sort of guy who'd tear up the Will so he could claim his fifth," Cheryl said. "He'd know that's what would happen because of John's case."

  "Then why would he tell Charlie he'd found the Will?" Gracie asked. "Why didn't he just say he couldn't find it? That part doesn't make sense. But we've spent so much time talking about Wills, and there's something else I learned. That fingerprint on the plate of cookies? It was Jason's!"

  "Does he have an explanation for it?" Meredith asked.

  Gracie nodded. "He says he accidentally bumped into the nightstand when he found his mother dead, and in his shock he automatically picked up the cookies."

  "A likely story," Cheryl commented.

  "He claims Ken believes him," Gracie assured them. "Said there were crumbs on the floor and fuzz on the cookies."

  It could've happened that way," Meredith said. "We don't any of us know how we'd react on finding someone near and dear has died. I'd think it would be fairly natural to back away from the body and thus easy to knock the plate off the nightstand. I can see picking them up out of habit, too."

  "Well, we already said that the print didn't prove who bought the cookies," Shawna reminded them.

  "Did he say whether Ken had found out anything more about them?" Kelly asked. "Like, whether they contained nuts?"

  Gracie held out a hand, rocking it back and forth. "Yes and no. They didn't have any trace of nuts in them, but he traced them to someplace called Cookie's Cookies. And before you ask, no one at the store remembers any of the suspects buying them."

  The five of them looked at each other in frustration.

  "So how did she get the nuts?" Meredith asked.

  "Back to Robbie's Will, I have a question," Cheryl said.

  "Shoot. We seem to be at an impasse here," Meredith said.

  "Who was Robbie's lawyer? Who wrote up her Will? Wouldn't he know what it said?"

  "I have no idea," Meredith said. "I don't think she hired Miles Allison until the probate case was started. Connie Canardi, maybe? I know she doesn't have a bar license now, but I gather that was a recent change. She could well have written a Will for Robbie when John retained her services."

  "That would make sense," Shawna said, nodding. "She was her husband's lawyer so she'd probably ask her to make out her Will, too."

  "Did this Canardi person make Mr. Redmond's Will?" Kelly asked.

  "No, that was done by another attorney," Meredith said. "But he died a few years back. My attorney recognized the name, said Canardi officed in the same building at that time so that's probably how John started using her."

  "What, do these guys all know each other?" Cheryl asked facetiously.

  "Probably," Kelly said. "They fight it out in court, then meet afterward for Martinis."

  "Something Loretta said yesterday," Gracie said thoughtfully. "That Robbie wasn't the type to spend money having a Will drawn up because it didn't benefit her. She suggested that Robbie wrote up hand-written Wills; that way she could change it whenever she was ticked at one of her kids or the other."

  Meredith nodded. "Makes sense. It's expensive to have a Will drawn up. I looked into it once, but decided that since Jonathan and Marianne are my only heirs I'd just write one myself. If Robbie did, then there's no copy anywhere."

  "So, what've we got now?" Kelly asked. "We're still assuming that money was the motive, but that points pretty much equally to Ms. Rodgers and Robbie's five children. Or four if you like, since sister Theresa is pretty much out of the picture."

  "I don't know," Shawna said. "My money's on Jason. He's done something hinkey with her Will, and that can't be good."

  "His fingerprint is on the plate, too. But we still don't know if the cookies killed her," Cheryl said.

  Gracie sighed, loudly. "All I know is I've got to figure it out because I don't want to remain a suspect forever!"

  CHAPTER 74

  Wednesday

  Ken was at an impasse, too. Here it was Wednesday, six whole days after the murder and he hadn't turned up a thing that looked like a good clue. He shuffled the papers on his desk, glancing at each as he turned them over. Nothing. The two sons both needed money, but one daughter was swimming in it and the other merely had plenty of dough. The sister, Gracie's teacher friend, didn't really benefit from Mrs. Redmond's death and seemed well aware of the legal details that made that true. Of course all the kids benefitted in the sense that the dead woman wouldn't have a chance to spend her inheritance now. But the timing seemed to be off; it would make more sense to wait to kill her until she actually had the money. Maybe they counted on that to throw him off?

  The spouses were in the same position; both daughters-in-law could use extra cash. The teacher and one daughter were divorced, the other daughter a widow. All were young enough that they could reasonably expect to live quite awhile longer so they probably weren't thinking of accumulating money to hand down to their kids. Jason had no kids. But Charlie's kid seemed to be a bottomless money pit. He'd checked on that, the girl was constantly in trouble with the law and various landlords, employers, banks, and credit card companies. Drugs seemed to be involved and her parents always cleaned up the mess. Was there something in that? He felt like he was grasping at straws.

  He'd finally gotten information on the third daughter, Theresa Scarborough. She and her husband had lived in New Zealand for several years. Tony Scarborough had apparently learned about computers while in the Navy and now worked as an IT tech with a healthy salary. They had no children and used the money to travel the world; they even returned to the States occasionally, but the last time they'd entered the country was three years ago. There were ways to enter illegally, and an old Navy man might know some of them or know people who could help; a smart killer would do just that. Ken had spoken to Theresa on the phone and she'd seemed truly s
hocked to hear about Ms. Redmond's death, which might only mean that she was a good actress. But it turned out that she'd been in the hospital that Thursday for a minor surgery, and hospital records confirmed it. She just didn't look like a likely suspect.

  Mrs. Redmond had shopped, a lot. Everyone said so, and her closets and jewelry armoire were certainly full. He had no real proof of the extent of her addiction, save a lawsuit by a bank to recover bad checks. Since a bank wasn't likely to hire a hit man Ken didn't think it worth the trouble to look into. However…banks weren't the only places that lent money. She could've gotten involved with some of the less savory people who were there if you knew where to look, though even that type was usually smart enough to realize they couldn't get money from a dead woman. If they had signed IOUs, they'd pursue more legal means of repayment.

  Ken drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk. Robbie's kids all claimed they knew better than to loan her money. Probably they'd learned that lesson the hard way years ago. Friends? Her family didn't seem to think she had many friends. He'd checked out the ladies' bridge club and a couple of charities; the women recognized her name, but with a slight wrinkling of their noses to indicate she wasn't really "one of them". Again, if they'd known her very long they'd know what she wanted the money for and refuse her request. Neighbors? One old lady across the street had admitted that Robbie owed her a few hundred dollars, ostensibly needed to pay medical bills. She'd been downright insulted at the idea that she would give cookies to someone who avoided her because of the debt. And anyway she'd been visiting her grandchildren in another state last week and had only gotten back Sunday evening. He'd checked her alibi.

  He knew he was deliberately not considering Gracie. He knew Gracie, knew she wasn't capable of murder. Gracie had no motive. Gracie had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dammit, he missed talking the case over with her; he'd love to hear what she'd turned up, but he must act in an aboveboard manner and not contact her. He also knew that if she found out something important she would tell him. He glanced at his phone, mentally urging it to ring, but of course Gracie was in class this morning.

  Loans…where else could an old woman get a loan? Could she have sold jewelry and out-of-style clothes to raise cash? He reached for the phone to call for some help from the uniformed guys, but pulled the hand back. He flipped back through his notes to find Ms. Rodgers' account of Thursday evening. There it was; she'd accused the family of taking her brother's stamp collection. He made the call, requesting they canvass all jewelry and consignment stores, pawnshops, and philatelists within a five-mile radius from the Redmond home.

  Ken sat back in his chair expecting to feel better. But he didn't. Jewelry stores would buy jewelry if it was the real McCoy, but they wouldn't make loans and a pawnshop would simply sell the item if the ticket weren't reclaimed. Might be interesting to see what she'd pawned, though. It was the cookies that bothered him. Plenty loan sharks would resort to underhanded tactics to insure repayment, tactics that could conceivably accidentally result in the death of their mark. But cookies? In the first place, how would they possibly know the woman was allergic to nuts? They'd hardly waste time in personal chitchat with an applicant, and allergies don't tend to come up in idle conversation. They weren't likely to offer cookies as an incentive to take out the loan, either. Those desperate enough to get a payday loan already had plenty of incentive.

  He sat up straight in his chair. Was it possible that Robbie Redmond hadn't been the intended victim? The whole family knew about that meeting Thursday evening and knew who would be there. He shuffled through his notes again. Well, okay, only Loretta Logan knew in advance that Meredith Rodgers would come, since she'd invited her. No one else knew that Ms. Rodgers would invite Gracie.

  Had the cookies been intended for one of the siblings or spouses? That would imply that for some reason the target hadn't eaten them and Mrs. Redmond had taken advantage of their oversight. No one had mentioned cookies being offered, but under the circumstances they might not want to point a finger at another family member. That made for rather a lot of possibilities, Ken thought. Could be as simple as someone killing off a pesky spouse. Or reducing the number of heirs to either Estate.

  No, wait, only for Mrs. Redmond's Estate. Meredith Rodgers had a son and daughter who would inherit from their grandfather if she were to die. Maybe the killer had forgotten about them. Since Mrs. Logan was the only one who knew Meredith would be there, she'd be the obvious candidate. Was Gracie's unexpected presence what saved Meredith? Conversely, was Meredith's presence what saved one of the others? Odd that the killer wouldn't go through with their plan, especially considering the enmity of the two family branches. Meredith's attendance should've been a Godsend; she'd make the perfect patsy.

  Ken reached for the phone again. All this interesting speculation meant nothing unless one of his suspects was also allergic to nuts.

  * * * *

  "Oh, come on, Kelly," Gracie begged. "We don't have to stay all that long; then we can go do something fun."

  Kelly had a stubborn look on his face. "That woman gives me the creeps," he said. "And your excuse seems a little thin to me. Even if she goes for it, the two of you will yak my ears off and I'll be bored. And I'm not going to snoop through her house."

  "I thought you were going to stand behind me on this case," she said a bit petulantly.

  He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little hug. "Oh, Gracie, I will. I promise! This just seems too underhanded – and it's probably illegal to boot. I'm sorry, I'll help some other way, but I just can't do this."

  Gracie kissed his cheek and stepped away from his side. "It's okay, Kelly, I understand." She turned to her friends. "How about you guys? I could do it alone, but it would be a whole lot easier if one – or both – of you would come too. I'll do the dirty work and you can act shocked if she catches me."

  Shawna looked skeptical. "Sorry, Gracie, I'm with Kelly. I'd be too scared to help."

  "Sure, I'll go with you, Gracie!" Cheryl said. At the shocked stares of Kelly and Shawna she said, "I think it sounds exciting! I'll even help you look. It's not like we're gonna take anything. Who knows what interesting stuff we might uncover?"

  "Okay, you guys go and have fun," Kelly said, making shooing motions with his hands. "I'm going to Chris' house. Call me when she has you arrested and I'll get your mom to bail you out of jail."

  "Gee, thanks, Kelly," Gracie said. "But I'm sure you'll want to know if I find what I'm looking for."

  "I still don't understand why you think it'll be there," Shawna said. "But yeah, for sure I want to know if it is!"

  As they headed for the parking lot Gracie asked Cheryl if she were sure she really wanted to do this.

  "Are you kidding?" Cheryl replied. "I'm looking forward to it. I follow your logic, but I'm not a hundred percent sure you're right. But if you are…"

  "And if I'm not, the other nut will be a lot tougher to crack."

  "Ooh, bad pun."

  A few minutes later they knocked on the door. Both girls were a little nervous, but ready to play their parts.

  "Why, hello, Gracie!" Loretta Logan said cheerfully. "And you brought a friend, how nice."

  "This is Cheryl," Gracie told her. "I've been telling her about your family and we got this idea that maybe if we looked through your photo albums we might get to know everyone a little better."

  Loretta grinned. "Maybe see something that looks amiss, that might point to the killer? I assure you it doesn't mean a thing that I never stand next to Mother, or that Charlie likes to make bunny ears behind everyone's heads. Come on in, ladies!"

  The girls followed Loretta into the large front room, looking around as if admiring the décor but really trying to spot any possible hiding places. All the possible hiding places was more like it; there was a large bookcase with cabinets underneath and several occasional tables, all with drawers.

  As if reading their minds Loretta led them to the bookcase and
slid open a cabinet door. She waved her hand in its direction and said, "That's where I stash all my albums. You two carry 'em over to the coffee table and I'll go get us some nice iced tea. Sugar?"

  "Huh?" Gracie said.

  "Yes, please, I'd like sugar in mine," Cheryl replied.

  Gracie nodded in understanding of her mistake and began gathering up the photo albums as Loretta bustled off into the kitchen. As soon as she was out of the room Cheryl gleefully slid open the other cabinet doors and began to look through them. Gracie dumped the heavy books on the table, then rushed to check the drawers in the smaller tables. They met back in the conversation area. Sitting side by side on the couch they grabbed the topmost album and flipped it open on their laps.

  "Not a thing," Gracie whispered as she turned a page. "How about you?"

  "Me either," Cheryl replied. "Though I didn't feel like I had time to dig through everything in there, so I can't be sure."

  "Yeah, it's small, easy to hide. She could've put it inside a book, even." Gracie pointed at the bookcase.

  Cheryl jumped up and ran to the shelves, running her finger along the spines to check titles. She took her time, figuring that even if Loretta walked in to see her she would only appear to be admiring the collection. But the books were in alphabetical order by author, so it didn't take her long to see she'd been barking up the wrong tree. She sat back down with Gracie and shook her head.

  "What were you looking for?" Gracie whispered.

  "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle," Cheryl replied.

  "I don't get it."

  Cheryl flashed a wicked smile. "Sherlock Holmes. 'The Purloined Letter'".

  Gracie winced, but couldn't help a grin. The humor helped relax them both. "Now it's my turn to make a bad pun."

  Out loud Cheryl said, "Hey, go back a page. Isn't that Ms. Rodgers?"

  "Yeah," Gracie agreed. "That must be her ex-husband and her and son and daughter. Wow, she looks so young!"

  "That's what I love about photographs," Loretta said, pushing a small teacart ahead of her as she walked in. "You can remember how you used to be, and pretend for awhile that you haven't really changed."