Taneesha came in, looking good in her perfectly pressed uniform despite her long day. She handed written single-page releases to Hunter and Will Roy, and looked around.
“It’s just me and the Sheriff’s bride,” Will Roy said to her. “I guess nobody called the TV folks in Macon.”
“Yet,” Hunter added.
“This is going to be brief,” Sam said, as he came through the door with T.J. Jackson, who winked at Hunter, and District Attorney Sanders Beal who looked disappointed that no more media had arrived.
“I’ll read this,” Sam said, “and then answer any questions you have. Then District Attorney Beal will say a few words.”
Will Roy turned on his recording equipment, held out a microphone, and Sam began to read:
“The Magnolia County Sheriff’s Office and the Magnolia County Emergency Medical Service responded to a call at 7:50 a.m. today from 32 Sumter Rd., Merchantsville. Olivia Vincent, 24, of Decatur was found dead in the downstairs bathroom of the residence. According to Dr. Jared Butler, pathologist, she died of heart failure, possibly brought on by a toxic substance in some food she ate. No arrests have been made. An investigation is underway, with assistance from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and the District Attorney’s Office. The family and friends of the deceased have our sincere condolences.”
“Who found the body?” Will Roy asked immediately, “Have you made an arrest?”
“Hill Roland, who lives at that address, found the body and notified me. We have made no arrest.”
“Do you know what kind of toxic substance it was and where she ate the food?” Hunter asked.
“The toxicologist – you can get his name from Sgt. Martin – said it was strychnine. We believe it was in some food she ate at the Roland home, and that’s all I can tell you now. I think it’s important to note here that the deceased was on medication for a heart condition.”
“Strychnine,” the District Attorney announced gravely, taking over, “normally would not cause death quickly and preliminary reports suggest that Miss Benedict may have died within an hour of eating the rum balls that had been mailed to Mr. Roland’s home by an unidentified person.”
Sam looked annoyed.
“What I would like to say,” Sanders Beal continued, as Will Roy turned the microphone his way, “is that my office will lend all available resources to Sheriff Bailey to have a thorough investigation, and that the people of Magnolia County can be assured that justice will be done. I have assigned our chief investigator, T.J. Jackson, to the case, and our sincere condolences go to Miss Benedict’s loved ones.”
Sam said that they hoped to have another press conference over the weekend and he would let them know the time.
Taneesha stayed to give them the toxicologist’s name.
“Are you and Sam really married?” Will Roy asked Hunter after they were alone again. “It sure didn’t look like it just now.”
“You know he always tries to be fair,” Hunter said. “I’ve got my job. He’s got his.”
“Yeah, right,” Will Roy said. “And you aren’t going to find out what she was doing at Hill Roland’s house?”
“Oh, I’m going to find out,” Hunter said with a sweet smile. “But Sheriff Bailey’s not my only source.”
“Where do you suppose Hill Roland is?” Will Roy asked off-handedly as he packed up his equipment. “I went out by the house, and they said I couldn’t go in and he wasn’t there anyway.”
“I don’t have a clue,” Hunter lied. “See you later.”
She went by the newspaper office to tell Tyler Bankston what she knew so far.
“Rum balls with rat poison,” he said. “Awful, but that’s a good story.”
“Yes, and it will be all over the country before we go to press on Wednesday,” Hunter said with a frown. “Hill Roland is a celebrity, after all. I can see it now. ‘Young woman found dead in Vampire writer’s southern mansion.’ Now if we could put news stories on our website like…”
Tyler looked at the ceiling fan. Hunter could almost see him counting to ten.
“The purpose of the “website is to provide information about advertising and subscribing, and about sending us news,” he said, “If we put news stories on our website, there would be no reason for people to buy the paper on Wednesday, or advertise in it either. I have a product to sell. It costs money to produce it, and I’m not going to give it away. Newspapers are an endangered species already. I see no reason to hasten the process. I would rather have local people waiting on pins and needles to read Wednesday’s paper — and paying for it, so that I can meet payroll.”
What frustrated Hunter the most when these conversations came up with her boss was that she knew he was right.
“I know you want to be first with the story,” he said matter-of-factly, “but the important thing for a weekly is to write the best story, and no matter how many reporters cover it first, everybody around here is going be waiting to see what you write.”
CHAPTER 5
Soon after hearing the story on local radio, three people in Merchantsville sent e-mails to two TV stations, and the proverbial cat tore his way out of the bag. The fact that a woman had been poisoned at Hill Roland’s house was breaking news.
Hunter sat at the kitchen table, staring at her laptop, and gave the universal sigh of all small town weekly reporters who have just realized their big story is on Associated Press.
“What’s the matter?” Sam asked as he brought her a second cup of coffee.
“‘Body found in best-selling author’s home,’” she read. “Strychnine poisoning suspected.’ It’s everywhere.”
Who gave them the information?” Sam asked, leaning over her shoulder.
“According to District Attorney Sanders Beal…” Hunter read out loud.
“Well, Hill’s a celebrity, so it was bound to happen,” Sam said. “I’m afraid his wife is about to get a dose of reality. She told me yesterday that I’d hear from her lawyers if any information on this mess was released to the media.”
“You’re kidding!” Hunter said with a laugh. “She really said that?”
“She said that,” Sam said. “And when Hill called me yesterday morning he asked if we could get a dead body out of his house discreetly. If you quote me on that, you’ll hear from my lawyers.”
“I’ll wait until after the trial,” Hunter said.
“There may never be a trial,” Sam said.
“Can we have pancakes?” Bethie said from the doorway.
She was wearing Hunter’s Jane Austen tee shirt – the one with the words “Stubborn, obstinate girl!” printed on it.
Hunter held out her arms and Bethie came to her for a morning hug.
“You know that’s the shirt I was wearing when your daddy asked me to marry him?” Hunter asked her.
Bethie nodded.
“But you weren’t stubborn and obsanunt,” she said, “or you would have said no.”
“Ob-sti-nate,” Hunter corrected.
“I’m going to make pancakes, and go to work,” Sam said. “What are you stubborn obstinate girls going to do?”
“We’re going to stay in our pajamas all morning,” Hunter said, “and then we’re going to get dressed and go buy a new shower curtain and new towels for the bathroom, and then we’re going to come home and make supper.”
“So, you’d better come home for supper,” Bethie said to Sam as he got out the mixing bowl for the pancakes.
At 10 a.m., Sam and T.J. Jackson were sitting in the sparsely furnished front parlor at the Roland’s home. Megan and Hill had been allowed to come back home, and neither of them seemed pleased to see the sheriff or the investigator.
T.J was patiently explaining to Megan Brooks Roland that there was no way a homicide could be hushed up, and that there really was a homicide. Hill Roland had collapsed in the only comfortable-looking chair and had his eyes shut.
“Well, if you don’t think Hill was responsible for her death, then I don’t see wh
y it needed to be mentioned to the media that she died in our home,” Megan said. “And I am going to talk to my attorneys about it.”
“That’s entirely up to you,” T.J. said, keeping his voice as pleasant as he could. “And in the meantime, we have something more important to talk about, which is that somebody obviously has made an attempt on your husband’s life. It was a clumsy attempt that went wrong, but the fact remains that Olivia Benedict just happened to be the one who ate those rum balls. They were sent to Mr. Roland, apparently by somebody who had read about them in one of his books and assumed that he liked them. “
“It was somebody from Atlanta,” Hill said. “Not anybody from around here.”
“The package was mailed from Atlanta,” Sam said, “but that doesn’t mean that the killer lived in Atlanta. The address was a fake and we assume the name was, too. It could be somebody from around here who drove to Atlanta and mailed it. Somebody from New York could have flown to Atlanta and mailed it.”
“Mr. Roland,” T.J. said. “Can you think of anybody anywhere who bears you a grudge? Maybe there’s somebody jealous of your success?”
“Of course there are people who are jealous of his success,” Megan answered for her husband. “You ought to read the reviews some people have written about his books on line.”
Hill yawned.
“I will have somebody look into that,” T.J. said, making a note. “Now, Mr. Roland, have you ever been stalked by a fan?”
“If I was, I never noticed,” Hill said.
“He really wouldn’t notice,” Megan said.
“Are there former girlfriends?” T.J. asked, and when Hill looked blank he said, “Was there anybody who was angry over you two getting married. Is there a woman scorned out there?”
“No.” Hill said, sitting up straighter, “but there was a man scorned.”
“Oh, Hill, don’t bring that up,” Megan said, sounding angry.
“Well, they want to know who might want me dead,” Hill said, “And you will remember that he called me up and said he was going to kill me if I didn’t stay away from you.”
“This was somebody you had a relationship with?” Sam asked Megan.
“Well, yes,” she said, giving Hill a look of exasperation, “It was my ex-husband, but the divorce was three years ago.”
“Could I have his name?” Sam asked.
“No,” Megan said. “That would be awful. He didn’t mean he was really going to kill anybody. He just took it hard, and he certainly wouldn’t have sent those stupid rum balls. He never cooked anything as far as I know. He practically lives, lived, on vitamins and powdered drinks from health food stores. He was a body builder. I mean as a hobby, of course. He has an investment firm.”
“His name,” Hill said, obviously enjoying himself, “Is William Randolph Slattery, known to friends as Randy. He lives in Montclair, New Jersey, and he really did tell me he was going to kill me if I didn’t stay away from Megan.”
“He was angry,” Megan said to Hill, as Sam scribbled in his notebook. “If he was going to kill you, he would have done it then.”
“You were married to this Slattery guy when you met Mr. Roland?” T.J. asked Megan.
“Yes!” she exploded. “I cheated on him, if you want to know the whole thing. I divorced him so Hill and I could get married. But that’s all in the past, and it would just be wrong to drag Randy into this.”
“Let’s move on,” T.J. said in a soothing voice. “Is there anybody here in Merchantsville who might have a grudge against you, Mr. Roland?”
“Sam,” Hill said, “Will you explain to your friend here that I haven’t lived here since I was in high school? You know as well as I do that nobody around here back then paid enough attention to me to have a grudge against me. If you want my opinion, it’s some nutcase who wanted to kill a celebrity but didn’t have the nerve to it with a gun, unless of course, it really was Randy Slattery. He could have flown to Atlanta to mail it.”
He was obviously needling his wife, who snapped back.
“Yes, and you could have stayed sober Thursday night and not let that woman into our house, and we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“This is a bad situation, and you two need to stop taking it out on each other,” Sam said evenly, “You can leave the investigation to us, but now I want you both to take me seriously about one thing. There really is somebody out there who wants Hill dead. That person was being very cautious the first time and may very well get away with having killed Olivia Benedict. But she – or he — could make another try.”
“I’m not going to eat anything that comes through the mail,” Hill said.
“There are other ways of killing people,” Sam said. “Most of them at closer range. Do you own a gun?”
“We’ll get one,” Megan said.
“No, we will not,” Hill said. “I won’t have one in the house.”
“I’m going to get one, then,” Megan muttered.
“How about a security system?” Sam asked.
“I hate those things,” Hill said. “One of the reasons I wanted to move back here was so I wouldn’t have to punch in codes.”
“It’s a good idea all the same,” Megan said.
“And don’t open any packages at all unless it’s very clear where they’re from,” Sam continued. “Like something you’ve ordered. If you get a package you have the least doubt about, call us. It might not be food next time.”
“You’re thinking it could be a bomb next?” Hill asked, and shuddered. “If it had been a bomb last weekend, I sure would have gotten blown up.”
“It would seem to me that if this person knew how to make a bomb, it would have been a bomb the first time,” Megan said.
“Good point,” T.J. said.
“And let me know immediately if you get any odd phone calls, “Sam continued, ignoring Megan’s speculation. “Or if there’s anybody around your house. You’ve got a lot of woods backing up to your property. It would be easy for somebody to come through on foot from the Pinholster Street side without being seen. You might want to install an outdoors spotlight back there.”
“I’m thinking we just ought to move back to New York if it has to be this way,” Megan said sullenly. “It’s obviously a lot safer there.”
“Just use reasonable caution,” Sam said. “And Hill, I know you probably grew up leaving the doors unlocked because this is a small town, we don’t do that any longer. You need to lock your car too.”
“I’m going to get a dog,” Hill said suddenly, as if his mind had been miles away. “I was thinking about a cocker spaniel, but maybe I ought to get a German shepherd.”
“That’s a good idea,” T.J. said, “I know somebody who breeds them for police work. He’s got some great ones, half grown, but already trained.”
“If you get one, you’re going to have to be responsible for it,” Megan said to Hill.
T.J. wrote out a name and phone number for Hill. Megan was glaring at all of them as the interview ended.
“What do you think about the ex-husband?” T.J. asked as they pulled out of the driveway onto Sumter Street.
“I doubt he had anything to do with it,” Sam said. “If Hill broke up his marriage, it makes sense that he was mad and even that he made a threat, but I’d agree with Megan. If he was going to do Hill any harm, he’d have done it when he found out his marriage was breaking up. Besides, how would he even know the address?”
“From Megan?” T.J. said.
Sam frowned and said, “I hope not.”
“Maybe it’s just the stress, or they’re just going through a rough stretch,” T.J. said. “But I did get the impression they’ve got a rocky relationship and that she wanted to protect her ex. I’m going to check him out just to rule him out. That way Miss New York City can be mad at me instead of you. I don’t live here.”
“Thanks,” Sam said, and meant it.
“Married life suiting you?” T.J. asked as they reached the town squ
are.
“Absolutely,” Sam said. “Smartest decision I ever made.”
“Oh, I think Hunter made the decision,” T.J. said with a grin. “You never had a chance.”
Just as she was finally getting dressed for the day Hunter got a call from Sgt. Taneesha Martin. It had nothing to do with crime.
“You got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“Guess who called me at home just now?”
“Who?”
“Miss Rose Tyndale. She wanted to know if I wanted to rent your old apartment. Just out of the blue. She said she had been trying to think of the right person to have up there since you’ve left and she thought I might be ready for a place of my own. The rent’s really reasonable. “
“I know. Are you going to rent it?”
“It’s such a temptation,” Taneesha said with a sigh. “I got a raise a while back, and, of course, I’m paying my share at Uncle James’ and Aunt Ramona’s house, so that could go toward the rent and I could still keep up my savings. I would just love to have my own place, especially now with Jeremy. I mean I could cook dinner for him, and we’d have some privacy without going to his place – hmmm – how nosey is Miss Rose?”
“She doesn’t miss much until about 8 p.m.,” Hunter said with a laugh, “But she doesn’t drop in, either. The steps are too much for her.”
“Uncle James keeps his eagle eye on Jeremy,” Taneesha said. “I love them both, but they act like I’m 16.”
“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” Hunter asked.
“I’m still thinking it through,” Taneesha said.
“You’re going to do it,” Hunter said again, laughing, “And just remember Sam and I owe you some help with the move.”
“Would you believe I don’t even own any real furniture of my own except my bedroom suite?”
“Hey, I know the best second-hand places,” Hunter said.
When I am Dead, My Dearest: A Hunter Jones Mystery Page 6
