Murder, Mayhem and Bliss (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 1)

by Loulou Harrington

  Lindsey drew back and arched her brow. “We? We how?”

  “Does this have anything to do with Vivian’s remark last night about the Myrtle Grove Garden Club?” Sophia asked.

  Surprised, Jesse looked at her mother and smiled. “You heard that?”

  “I don’t garden,” Lindsey said flatly. “Don’t know how. Don’t wanna learn. And I don’t remember Myrtle Grove having a garden club.”

  “I’ll garden,” SueAnn offered with her usual enthusiasm. “I don’t know how either, but I’d love to learn.”

  “At the moment, it’s a mythical garden club,” Jesse explained. “But any time too many of us are together and don’t have a good excuse, I think the garden club’s going to be trotted out. So pretend like you’ve at least heard of it.”

  “Do I have to pretend like I actually belong to it?”

  “We buy organic vegetables for the tea room all the time, Lindsey,” Jesse pointed out. “We have bird feeders hanging from the porch outside. We have a garden full of flowers and herbs surrounding the house. You paint landscapes for goodness sake.”

  “Okay.” Lindsey held up her hands to ward off Jesse’s torrent. “Don’t get so excited. Consider me a charter member of the garden club.”

  “So, okay, if I don’t get to learn to garden,” SueAnn asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. “What do I get to do?”

  Jesse gave the question some thought, and came up with a concept that might put the sparkle back into SueAnn’s eyes. “I think right now, you just have to consider yourself a spy. People are going to be talking about this. So if we keep our eyes and ears open, one of us could overhear something that could end up solving this.”

  “Oh, this is so exciting!” SueAnn did a restrained happy dance.

  Lindsey fixed Jesse with a look of disgust. Jesse shrugged. Then Lindsey glanced at her watch and the morning meeting abruptly ended. “Oh, crap, it’s 6:35. We’re late. Okay, everybody remember.” At the word “everybody” Lindsey stared directly at SueAnn. “We don’t want people to know that we’re listening to their conversations. And I’m sure that Jesse wants us to keep what we know between ourselves.”

  “Yes, definitely,” Jesse agreed. “Listen, but don’t talk, at least not to anyone but each other.”

  The wake-up committee began to move toward the door. “I’ll be gone a lot today,” she added. “So give me a call if you need me, or if you think you’ve heard something important. And I’ll try to get with you later to bring you up to date on whatever happens later today.”

  With a last, big grin, SueAnn left the room, Lindsey right behind her.

  Sophia lingered. “So what are you doing today?” she asked.

  Jesse heaved a sigh. “I’ll be damned if I know. I’d be amazed if Sheriff Tyler isn’t getting ready to arrest Bliss, maybe before the day is over. Everything I’ve heard would seem to point straight to her.”

  “I just can’t believe that,” Sophia said.

  “You can’t believe she did it,” Jesse corrected. “As far as the evidence goes, she’s a shoo-in. But, yes, she acts about as innocent as a six-week-old Labrador pup. Which would make her either actually innocent, or a sociopath.”

  Sophia gasped. “Sometimes I just can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth,” she scolded.

  “I speak the truth. We do not know what evil lurks in the heart of man.”

  “Quit being a jackass,” Sophia argued. “She didn’t do it, and you know it.”

  “Well, it is kind of like imagining SueAnn as a serial killer,” Jesse conceded. “But I think Lindsey’s right. Chances are, whoever did this, it’s not going to be a stranger. And whoever it turns out to be, we’re probably not going to like it when we find out.”

  ∙∙∙•••●●●•••∙∙∙

  “So, where do we stand?” Joe Tyler asked. He sat on the corner of a metal desk. Around him, his deputies sat behind their desks, their papers and notebooks arranged in front of them, coffee mugs nearby.

  “I’m talking to the neighbor who found Ginny Spurber,” Marla offered. “And to the other tenants in the building.” She nodded to Leo. “We found a few people who recognized Harry Kerr’s photograph.”

  “And quite a few,” Leo said, “who had noticed new cars with dealer tags parked outside over the course of the previous year. But they stopped seeing the dealer cars a month or so before the girl, uh, Ginny, died.”

  “As far as the other photo goes,” Marla continued, “nobody recognized Bliss Kerr. “They do remember seeing another woman, but it was someone older.”

  “How much older?” Joe asked.

  “Maybe forty. Or someone said she might not have been that old. She also looked a little like she might have been sick,” Leo said.

  “Do we have any more of a description than that?” Joe asked.

  “One lady said it looked like maybe she was wearing a wig,” Marla said. “On the thin side, medium height. Jacket, jeans, running shoes. One guy said he thought it could have been a small guy disguised as a woman.” She spread her hands. “It started getting off track after that. But whoever the person was, it was the only person anyone noticed visiting in the last month.”

  “But nobody,” Leo added, “saw anybody in the last week. They only saw Ginny Spurber a couple of times, and they didn’t see anyone else go in or out of her apartment.”

  “When he comes back from fishing and starts answering his phone again, I’ll get Arnie to take another look at Ginny Spurber’s suicide. But at the moment, it would appear this one’s not going to go anywhere.” Joe glanced around the room, making contact with all eyes. “Anything else?”

  “We’ve got a mess of footprint casts from the back trail into the pool area,” Frank Haney said. “And one or two sets have something like a walking stick or cane keeping pace with them.”

  “If a shovel or hoe, or say maybe a rake, were turned upside down with the rounded end of the handle used as a staff, would that look pretty much the same way?” the sheriff asked.

  Frank ducked his head and grinned sheepishly. “Guess I’ll have to go back out there and check that one out. Wasn’t thinking about that garden shed back there.”

  “How about Bill Marshall? Have you had a chance to talk to him yet?”

  Drawing himself up and apparently feeling more confident again, Frank nodded. “Caught them on the way to church this morning. His wife was positive he was home all night Friday night. And he swears that his bitterness over the partnership breakup is water under the bridge. He’s moved on and is doing well enough on his own.”

  “And do we believe them?” Joe asked.

  “This is officially a murder investigation now, right?” Frank countered.

  The sheriff nodded.

  “Well, then, I wouldn’t believe my own mother if she gave me an alibi that weak in a murder investigation.” Frank rocked back in his chair, a sure sign that he was just warming up. “There’s been talk for years that Bill Marshall is a lot fonder of Bliss Kerr than he is of his own wife, who appears to be heading downhill fast. And a used car lot doesn’t begin to compare with a big-money dealership like Kerr’s Lake Country Autos. So while I’m sure Bill Marshall is a fine man, he’s no angel, and he has plenty of reason to wish Harry Kerr in hell.”

  “So, who wants to check into the finances of the Marshalls?” Joe offered, looking around the room.

  Leo, whose computer skills made up for his lack of field experience, leaned forward and raised his hand. “I could take that on.”

  Joe smiled in approval. “Sounds tailor made for you, Leo. Would you also take a look at their medical expenses? I don’t know what that would have to do with Harry Kerr’s death, but if Mrs. Marshall is seriously ill, it might be good to know if that’s taking a toll on their pocketbook.”

  “I’m on it, boss,” the young deputy assured him.

  Joe indicated Marla Murphy. “Will you be following up with Maria Ortiz today about that suit?”

  A
self-satisfied grin met his gaze. “Already have. I called her this morning to make an appointment for her to look at the suits in Harry Kerr’s closet. And…” Marla paused for effect, then continued, “She was able to identify the suit he wore Friday without looking. Mrs. Ortiz said it was a gray pinstripe, and that somebody had leaned too close with a red pen and left an ink stain on the left lapel. Kerr was planning to have his wife take it to the dry cleaners, so Maria was fairly certain that he would have left it separated from the others in the closet.”

  Marla swept her hands like a magician’s flourish at the end of a trick. “So all we have to do is have Mrs. Kerr point out the suit jacket she found the note in, and it should be simple to identify if it’s the same one.”

  “So I guess Maria Ortiz won’t be joining us at the Kerr’s today. Do you have a time set up with Bliss Kerr to go back over there with you?”

  Marla shook her head. “With it being Sunday, I thought I would at least give them some peace and quiet this morning.”

  Joe heaved a reluctant sigh. “I guess that’s the wise thing to do. If we push too hard, I’m afraid Vivian Windsor’s going to call in her attorneys to circle the wagons. After that happens, good luck trying to have a conversation with any of them.”

  “I hadn’t actually thought it through that far,” Marla confessed. “I just thought it would be the polite thing to do. The average widow probably wouldn’t even be getting out of bed today.”

  Joe let out another heavy sigh. Bereaved widow or not, he was going to get that note pinned down today. So far the only known fingerprints identified on it belonged to Harry and Bliss Kerr. Everything else was partial and smudged and probably came from the manufacturing and distribution process. In short, one more piece of information pointing to the grieving widow and no one else.

  “Before we adjourn this meeting, I have someone else we need to find and check out. A, uh…” Joe referred to the notes on his pad. “A Darren Carver, former brother-in-law and business partner to Harry Kerr. The ex-wife’s name is… Marilyn. Harry Kerr’s sister. Carver may have left town and never come back, but we need to know for sure. Probable military background after the divorce, so we should be able to run him down, wherever he is.”

  “I can start working on that,” Todd volunteered. As a veteran himself, and a former skip tracer, he was a logical choice, in addition to being the closest to Leo in computer skills.

  “Thank you,” Joe said. He was a fan of computer savvy in others, since he had none himself and no desire to learn. He rubbed his hands together and lifted them in benediction.

  “And that concludes our business for this morning. The longer we can put off having to arrest Bliss Kerr on nothing but circumstantial evidence, the happier all our lives will be. Find me something concrete that ties her to this, something more than marriage and the dearly departed heartily deserving it. Or find me somebody else with clear motive and opportunity. Now let’s get out there and catch a killer, ladies and gentlemen. We’re at 24 hours and counting.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Good morning, everybody,” Bliss’s cheerful, chipper voice called out as she sailed through the doorway and into the sunroom.

  Jesse checked her watch. She had come by prepared to wait patiently in the cozy bosom of luxury, making herself at home and sampling the array of pastries she had brought with her, until Vivian emerged into the morning sun, hoping for confirmation that the previous day had all been a bad dream. Bliss, Jesse had never thought to see at all.

  Instead, Vivian had already been up and waiting for Jesse’s arrival, ready to plunge once again into plotting and intrigue. And here was Bliss, who should have been spending the day in the fetal position, at least. Instead, she looked refreshed and recharged, while Jesse herself was still up too early and functioning on too little sleep.

  “Well,” Bliss said, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the breakfast items on the sideboard just inside the sunroom doorway. “I’ve called Marcus, and he’ll be here as soon as he finishes breakfast. I’ve also called Bill and Maria, and they’ll be here by the time Marcus arrives. He’ll have to go by his office first, so we’ll all have time to get settled in before he gets here.”

  Jesse spent the duration of this speech looking from Vivian to Bliss and back, hoping that Vivian would reflect some of the complete bafflement that Jesse herself was feeling. Such as, who the heck was Marcus, and where did he fit into this?

  Vivian clasped her hands in front of her in what looked like a quiet celebration. “Wonderful, dear. What are you planning?”

  Bliss selected a turnover that looked suspiciously like one Sophia had let SueAnn help her make. Jesse consoled herself that its lack of symmetry shouldn’t affect the flavor, and it was better for them to eat the fruits of SueAnn’s training session than to serve them to customers. She headed for the sideboard to get one for herself.

  “I’m getting on with my life,” Bliss announced. “I woke up this morning and realized that other people’s lives are dependent on me now, and on a business that can’t just sit there and wait while Harry’s death is investigated. So, I need to quit wallowing in the cruelty of life and the woes that have befallen me and move on.”

  Jesse stopped with a turnover halfway to her lips and turned to stare at the creature who had taken possession of Bliss during the night. It was definitely an improvement over the creature who had taken possession of her the previous day. But, still, it was a shock.

  “It’s been a day,” Jesse pointed out. “One day. I believe at least two full days of wallowing are acceptable in an instance like this. And who’s Marcus?”

  “My attorney.” Bliss took a seat on one of the sofas in the center of the room, the one facing a wall of windows overlooking the backyard. “The dealership’s business attorney,” she clarified, “Marcus Rutherford. And our personal attorney. He also has Harry’s will, as well as the paperwork for the disposition of the business.”

  “And how is that, dear?” Vivian asked, as if they were discussing recipes.

  “Oh, Aunt Viv,” Bliss said, with the same casualness. “You know nothing has changed from the way Uncle Malcolm set it up.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have thought so.” Vivian settled more deeply into the sofa at right angles to the one Bliss occupied. This second sofa faced the sideboard flanked on either side by a set of French doors leading into the main body of the house. “Malcolm was always so careful about those things.”

  “And how is that?” Jesse asked. “The business, I mean.” She felt seriously out of the loop and more than a little nosey. However, right now, anything could be a motive. She hadn’t even thought about inheritance. With Bliss being a Windsor by birth, that shouldn’t have mattered.

  “Everything is Bliss’s,” Vivian answered.

  Jesse’s eyes widened and a worried frown creased her brow. Damn, more motive.

  “It always has been,” Vivian explained before Jesse could become too alarmed. “Harry ran the dealership and, to the public, he was the owner. But, in reality, he was only the co-owner, and then only so long as he and Bliss remained married.”

  Jesse’s mouth dropped, and her fatigue suddenly felt like a weight on her shoulders while her brain seemed to be moving at the speed of sludge. “Okay,” she said slowly, “let me get this straight.” She almost understood what Vivian was saying, but… “So, Malcolm set up the business the same way Harry did his brother-in-law’s dealership? If they divorced, everything went to Bliss, and Harry got nothing?”

  Vivian smiled and nodded, clearly pleased with Malcolm’s foresight.

  Jesse felt a soaring of triumph, knowing that this new fact would have far reaching effects. Even though she couldn’t for the life of her think of any of them right now. Except for one. And that one pretty much trumped everything else.

  “Which means Bliss never had any financial motive for killing Harry.” She tried not to sound too happy, since that would be a dead giveaway for the doubt she had been trying to
ignore.

  Bliss gasped, and Jesse realized she might have been just a tiny bit too blunt.

  “No,” Vivian agreed. “Of course, there’s a life-insurance policy, but compared to the trust fund Bliss inherited when her parents died, the insurance is a pittance.”

  Bliss gasped again and raised a shaky coffee cup to her lips.

  “Sorry, dear,” Vivian said gently. “But this is reality. And you are the prime suspect. Any motive we can get rid of is a step forward.”

  “This is probably something that we need to make sure the sheriff knows,” Jesse added.

  “Could we talk about something else for a while?” Bliss asked in a squeakier-than-normal voice. “If they are going to arrest me, I need to make sure I get things straightened out with the business first. So this morning’s meeting is just that much more important. And I need to focus.”

  “And what is today’s meeting for, dear?” Vivian asked in a kindly tone she reserved for a select few.

  “I’m promoting Maria to General Manager of the dealership. And I’m asking Bill to come back to his old position as partner and Business Manager. I haven’t got the vaguest idea of how to run a dealership, and I don’t really want to learn. But it’s a good, established business, and I don’t want it to suffer from the loss of Harry’s leadership. I’m hoping that together, Maria and Bill can fill that gap.”

  “Wow,” Jesse said, surprised that she was once again surprised. “You woke up with a bang this morning, didn’t you? That’s all kind of sudden and sweeping.” What she had no intention of saying aloud was that this would also provide several other people with more motive for killing Harry.

  “Do you think they’ll be able to handle it, dear?” Vivian asked with no real indication of doubt.

  “Well, Bill’s done it before, quite successfully. And with his help, I think Maria will be able to learn what she needs to know. She’s always done an excellent job, and she has a college degree in business. I never really understood why she settled for being a glorified secretary in the first place.”