“Sorry. Reflex action.” She retreated slightly further.
“What is this?” he asked in a voice to match his expression.
“A note Bliss found,” Jesse explained. She glanced over her shoulder to Vivian, who took a step backward and placed a steadying hand on the top of the wingback next to where she stood. Jesse scowled at her, then turned back to take the brunt of whatever the sheriff did next.
“She found it here?” he asked, still with exaggerated calm.
“No.”
“Where?”
Jesse could feel the tension vibrating in the depths of that last word, and knew she had to start the confession now or take the consequences. She sucked in a deep breath, which did nothing to soften her dread, then blurted out, “It was in the pocket of a suit jacket hanging in the closet of Harry’s bedroom.”
“And what was she doing in there?” The reasonable tenor of his question was somehow not reassuring.
“Saying goodbye, I believe. She was crying a bit by then, so it wasn’t entirely audible.” Jesse cut herself off before she began to babble. He was going off script, asking questions that were logical, but that she hadn’t prepared for. This left her scrambling for answers and wasn’t helping her nervousness one bit.
Sheriff Tyler nodded and returned his stare to the desk. “Yes, she’s a little hard to understand when she does that. Is there a reason why she’s not here, telling me this herself?”
Vivian stepped forward and Jesse heaved a silent sigh of relief.
“She was exhausted,” Vivian answered. “I think the trip to her home made it all too real.” She lifted her chin and her gaze moved over the room around her. “I don’t know what it is about a man’s suit, but somehow they seem to embody his presence the way nothing else does.”
A haunted melancholy echoed in her words. Then, as quickly as the mood took her, it was gone. Vivian shook her head and her tone became crisp. “Anyway, Bliss was a basket case by the time she got through explaining how she found that damned note, so I gave her a sedative and put her to bed. I don’t know if she’s going to be any good to you tomorrow, either. Because after she gets a good night’s sleep, she’s going to have to look at those suits again, and figure out which one Harold’s going to be buried in.”
By the time she finished talking, Vivian was ramrod stiff and prepared for battle. Eyes flashing, nostrils flared, and head back with her shoulders braced, she had assumed a stance that Jesse had long ago learned to give a wide berth.
In keeping with that sentiment, Jesse glided back and to the side of the desk. Joe Tyler had gotten himself into this, and he could get himself out. She, personally, was removing herself from the line of fire.
“Ah, yes.” His voice was soft as he turned to face Vivian across the room. Arms at his sides, he seemed relaxed, at ease, nonconfrontational. “Funeral preparations.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes in my line of work, you forget about all of the other things that come after death. I can see that, taken altogether, it could be very overwhelming.”
Wow, this man was good. His tone, his words, even his body language were amazingly mellow, when they had expected exactly the opposite. Jesse could feel Vivian standing down and beginning to relax.
“Would we have any way of knowing,” the sheriff continued in a voice that was both quiet and soothing, “if the jacket Mrs. Kerr found the note in was the one Harry wore to work on Friday?” He laid the question out on the air, addressed to no one in particular.
“Maria, his assistant, might know,” Vivian offered helpfully, absent the flash and fire of a few minutes earlier.
Jesse would have given him a high-five if there was any way to do it without offending everyone in the room but herself. As it was, she would just cling to her invisibility while watching the other two politely dance around each other awhile longer.
“So,” Sheriff Tyler began in a velvety voice Jesse had never heard from him before, “Mrs. Kerr was looking in her husband’s closet, possibly to say goodbye. Possibly…” He extended a hand in Vivian’s direction. “Possibly, to begin funeral preparations. Or, maybe for both reasons. And she notices a particular jacket that draws her attention.”
“It might be worth noting,” Vivian said, careful not to step on his words while interjecting her thought, “that Harold was a personally meticulous man. If you look in his closet, you will notice that things are arranged in order. It’s possible that Bliss recognized the suit as the one he wore on Friday by its placement in the closet.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?” he asked, not challenging her, but genuinely intrigued.
“He was extremely systematic. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility,” Vivian acknowledged. “And I do realize that it would have been better to have Bliss here to answer for herself. But I know that when my husband died, I couldn’t have done half the things she’s done today. She had just reached the end of her endurance.”
“I do understand.” The sheriff nodded. “I truly do. The last thing I want is to be insensitive to someone’s grief. It’s just that sometimes that’s what my job requires. And I truly appreciate the cooperation you’re giving me. Now, does anyone know where Deputy Murphy was during all of this?”
Vivian’s eyes widened, and she looked to Jesse, who felt the weight as the ball dropped back into her lap. If the nice deputy was going under the bus, it wasn’t going to be by Vivian’s hand.
Joe Tyler followed his hostess’s gaze to the woman standing slightly to the side and behind him. Jesse couldn’t help wondering how long the Ghandi act would last once he started questioning her instead of Vivian.
With all eyes now on her, Jesse swallowed to ease her dry throat. “Uh, I believe Deputy Murphy was in the bathroom at that time.”
“Was that a bathroom Mrs. Kerr and her husband shared?”
Stumped, she flashed a glance to Vivian, who stepped in. “The master suite has two of everything, one for Bliss and one for Harold.”
He nodded, then looked back to Jesse. “Do we know which one Deputy Murphy was in?”
Jesse turned her hands over, palms up, in the universal gesture of your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine. “Bliss just said bathroom,” she offered. She had to agree with Vivian. They hadn’t asked Bliss nearly enough questions. Some investigators they were.
“Is his closet separate from his bathroom?” the sheriff asked.
“Yes,” Vivian answered.
He held up one finger. “If you’ll excuse me a minute.” He whipped out his cell phone and dialed. After a moment he said, “Which bathroom did you go in while you were in the Kerr house?”
Jesse inched closer and heard a mumbled reply and what sounded like the word “all,” but that was half guess.
“Why?” he asked into the phone.
This time Jesse was almost sure she heard the word “drugs” among other sounds that were mainly mutters and rumbles. She remembered the sheriff asking earlier about any medicine Harry might have been taking.
“Did you find anything?” he asked, followed by more mutters and what was a pretty clear “aspirin” and then maybe “Viagra,” but that last one could have just been Jesse’s lurid imagination.
Then there was more mumbling before the sheriff said, “Because Bliss Kerr found a note in her husband’s suit pocket while you were in the bathroom.”
This was followed by “Shit!” pause, then “shit, shit, shit,” all of which were at a much higher volume and clearly audible, probably all the way over to Vivian. Jesse glanced in her direction and saw the other woman’s eyes grow rounder. Yep.
“Well, don’t worry about it,” Sheriff Tyler said into the phone. There were a few other expletives shouted in his direction at that point, but Jesse had moved farther away and was trying not to overhear.
Bad detective work again, but so what. She was tired and just wanted this night to end so she could get some sleep, and she was pretty sure the sheriff must feel the same way. When he hung up, she pointed to the no
te that was causing all of the furor.
“Nobody touched it but Bliss. She said she tucked it under her sleeve to slip it out past Deputy Murphy, who had insisted that Bliss leave her purse in the car. I had her put it on that tray, and nobody else did anything more than look at it.”
“Somebody’s been watching detective shows on TV,” he said, showing much less anger than Jesse would have expected, considering that he had a right to be pretty angry.
She shrugged. “Guilty.”
“Well, it was good thinking. You saved us all from a lot of extra trouble.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a plastic evidence bag. “I’ll take this with me now, and tomorrow we’ll try to confirm which suit this was in and whether that suit was the one he wore to work yesterday. Until we know that for sure, we can’t confirm that this note has any connection to his death.”
He bagged the note and stuck it in his pocket. Then he turned and stood frowning in Vivian’s direction. “I just remembered something else I wanted to ask you about since I’m here.”
Vivian nodded her silent agreement. “What is it, Sheriff?”
“You had mentioned earlier today that Harry had several ex-partners who might not be too happy with him. I’m assuming Bill Marshall is one of those, even though that was, what, eight years ago?”
He paused and Vivian nodded again in acknowledgement. “I wasn’t aware of anyone else,” he continued. “Can you tell me who you meant?”
“Harold has a younger sister, Marilyn. When she married, he set her husband up in a used car business. When she divorced him, Harold enacted a clause in the contract that made the arrangement null and void. The business returned to Harold, and his ex-brother-in-law was left with nothing.”
“Do you have this man’s name?” Sheriff Tyler asked, pulling a pen and notebook from his shirt pocket. “And do you know what happened to him?”
“Carver. Something Carver. Between the divorce and trying to sue Harold for restitution, I think he ended up losing everything he had. The last thing I heard, he had joined the military and left the area.”
He flipped his notebook closed and returned it to his pocket. “Well, ladies, thank you for your assistance.”
“By the way, Sheriff,” Vivian said before he could leave. “That ended up being the same car dealership that Harold gave to Bill Marshall later, when he ended their partnership. And I just remembered the brother-in-law’s name. It was Darren. Darren Carver.”
Joe Tyler retrieved the pad and jotted a few more notes in it, before he slipped it back into his pocket. “Once again, ladies, it’s been a pleasure. Thank you for your cooperation, and I’ll see myself out.”
With a parting nod to the women, he turned and left. They stood completely still, listening until the front door closed behind him. Then they hurried to a front window and watched him drive away.
Only then did Vivian say, “That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be.” She sounded more apprehensive than relieved.
“No.” Jesse shook her head. She felt the same unease she had heard in her friend’s voice. “I’m just not so sure that’s good.”
“Nothing too easy is ever good,” Vivian mused.
“Either he’s really tired, or he just wants more of us in the room when he throws in the grenade,” Jesse said.
Vivian nodded her agreement. “I think I’m going with the grenade theory.”
“Yeah, me, too. Now I just wonder what he knows that we’re not going to like.”
“Oh, dear God!” Vivian’s sky-blue eyes went round and her hand clutched Jesse’s arm. “They know what killed him!”
Chapter Thirteen
Jesse opened her eyes to find the overhead light on and three smiling faces looking down at her. SueAnn, who was closest, extended a dessert plate that was pink with a white lace-and-ribbon border. A chubby, glazed bun covered the floral pattern in the center. “I have your favorite morning bun,” she announced with a big grin, inching the plate closer.
Lindsey held a matching pink and white cup and saucer. Her smile was more of the Cheshire cat variety. “I made it extra strong,” she crooned.
Jesse closed her eyes again, hoping they would go away. But the aromas of rich, dark coffee, and cinnamon and sugar mingled, entwining their way around her and pulling her eyes open again.
“(A) what are you doing in here? And (B) what time is it?” Jesse asked in a voice that sounded like it was trying to claw its way up from the bottom of a well.
“You left your door unlocked again,” Sophia said, stepping from behind the other two.
“And we’re just really, really curious,” SueAnn said. She set the dessert plate and fork on the bedside table next to Jesse, within easy reach.
“And it’s six,” Lindsey said. “We have half an hour for you to tell us everything you know before we have to open the doors downstairs. Here.” She extended the cup toward Jesse. “Drink.”
Jesse glared at them through eyes that were puffy slits. She knew that without looking. That’s how her eyes always looked after a night that was too late and a morning that was too early.
“Why don’t we just take my door off the hinges,” she croaked. “Then we could dispense with the fiction that a closed door means anything.”
“Don’t be grumpy.” Lindsey sat on the edge of the bed and extended the cup again. “Drink.”
“God, I feel like I slept about thirty minutes,” Jesse complained. Then she dutifully pushed herself up in the bed and leaned against the tall headboard behind her.
SueAnn leaned over and plumped the pillows up and around Jesse to cradle her in place. Then she stepped back and smiled sweetly. Jesse tried to cling to her scowl, but she couldn’t, not in the face of SueAnn’s red-haired, freckled-faced cheerfulness, and relentless well-meaning.
At the foot of the bed, Sophia caught Jesse’s eye and smiled, recognizing that her daughter had just caved. “Eat while you talk, sweetheart,” she suggested gently. “You’ll feel better.”
SueAnn moved the dessert plate from the table to Jesse’s lap. Lindsey put the cup of coffee into Jesse’s hands. “Drink, dammit,” she said firmly.
Jesse gave in and downed the cup of coffee in a series of gulps, then handed the empty cup and saucer back to Lindsey, who handed them to Sophia, who refilled them from the thermos on the dresser and handed them back. By then, Jesse had dug into the morning bun, which virtually melted in her mouth, and after a second cup of coffee, she felt almost human.
“Was he murdered?” SueAnn demanded, her waning patience overwhelmed by her youthful exuberance.
Lindsey smiled and raised her brows in question. Sophia nodded her agreement, and Jesse shrugged. “They haven’t said yet.”
“But,” Sophia prodded. She had heard enough the previous night to know the probabilities.
“Vivian and I are both pretty sure that he probably was.”
“Oh, my God.” Lindsey drew back, seeming genuinely shocked. “I can’t believe that.”
“Why not?” SueAnn demanded.
“Because this isn’t a TV show,” Lindsey said. “This is a small town in Oklahoma. If someone killed him, we probably know that person. Is there anybody you know that you want to find out is a murderer?”
“Oh.” The enthusiasm drained from SueAnn’s face. “I hadn’t thought about that.” Then she perked up again. “Maybe it was a stranger.”
“Very few people are killed by strangers,” Lindsey informed her. “Most murders are committed by someone close. More often than not, by a family member.”
This time it was SueAnn who drew back with a start. “Absolutely not!” She turned to Jesse for confirmation. “She’s not right! Is she?”
Jesse put her empty china on the bedside table and threw off her covers. Any hope of further sleep was gone, so she might as well get up. Though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t her day to work in the tea room or in the downstairs antique shop, and nobody else she knew was going to be up so early.
/> “Sorry, kiddo,” she said, pushing herself to her feet and grateful her T-shirt hung down to a modest mid-thigh length. “But Lindsey is right. That’s probably one reason police get so cynical. They look at the person closest first, then slowly work their way out. But if it’s not the spouse or lover, it’s almost always someone close. And, yes, the sad truth is that it’s quite often family.”
“Ye-e-e-w, gross,” SueAnn said with a shiver. “That’s disgusting.”
Jesse laughed and gave the girl a hug around the shoulders. “That’s okay. This time we’ll try to make sure it’s a stranger, just for you.”
“We can be fairly certain that this time, it’s not the spouse,” Sophia said.
“How’s that looking?” Lindsey asked. She turned from Sophia to Jesse, who was at the dresser, pulling out comfy clothes.
Just in case she got a chance to nap at some point later in the day, Jesse wanted to be ready. Realizing the room had fallen silent behind her, she slowly turned to find three sets of eyes on her. “What?”
“Bliss,” Lindsey repeated. “I don’t know her, but I know Vivian, and I know how close Vivian is to her, and I know we’d all like it if we could keep a murder investigation away from her front door. So, how’s that looking?”
Jesse leaned back against the dresser and made a face that was not entirely happy. “Well, there is about a zero percent chance that Bliss killed her husband. However, there’s almost nothing that you can point to and say, ‘there, she couldn’t have done it because…’ So, unless something emerges pretty quickly that points to someone else, Bliss is the first, best, and most logical suspect.”
“Really?” Lindsey asked.
Sophia gasped and looked shocked. “Surely not.”
Disillusioned all over again, SueAnn cried, “No! She’s too nice.”
Jesse took a deep breath and continued, “Which is why Vivian is determined that we…” She circled her finger in the air, in a move that included them all. “Are going to figure out what really happened, just in case the actual law enforcement can’t manage to do it on their own.”
SueAnn’s face spread in a huge smile. “Oh, how wonderful.” She pressed her palms together in a quiet clap of joy. “That’s so exciting. What do I get to do?”
Murder, Mayhem and Bliss (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 1) Page 11
