A Star-Spangled Murder

by Valerie Wolzien

  “Ask me what?”

  “We’re wondering if you would loan us a kayak for the race this afternoon,” Paul Briane said.

  “The Taylors had two, but one was damaged recently, and Paul and I wanted to join the race around the island today—and we were hoping to travel as a pair,” Ryan Harter explained. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but we’re both competent paddlers and we’d certainly pay for anything that we damaged if an accident happened.”

  “Actually, I’m the person who would be using your boat, if you’ll let us borrow it,” Paul explained. “And I really do know what I’m doing. I’ve been paddling for years.”

  He continued to list his qualifications, but Susan, who had witnessed his skill last night, didn’t bother paying attention. In Maine, neighbors help one another, and she couldn’t imagine any reason why she shouldn’t follow the tradition. “My boat’s out front. You’re welcome to use it if you want. Come on out and take a look.”

  The men greeted Tierney and Theresa as they walked to the tree where Susan had left her kayak the night before. “This is it,” she offered, proud of her craft. “Everything is inside it except the life jackets, but you must have some at the Taylors’. The paddle is leaning against the wall there, unless you want to use your own.…”

  “I will,” Paul answered her.

  “Are you going to paddle to the starting line? It’s just outside the cove—at the yacht club. It’s visible as you get into the open water. You should be there ahead of time. They’ll be giving out directions and explaining about the temporary buoys that are set out for the race. The starting time is noon, right?” Susan asked.

  “Yes. You’ve never entered?” Ryan Harter asked.

  “No. My son has talked about it, and my daughter has run in the island marathon that takes place at the same time, but no Henshaw has done this. We always show up at the finish line, though—to cheer on the winners and the losers.”

  “Well, I don’t suppose Ted or Tricia plan on doing anything today. Janet Shapiro is there now talking with Trish, and I don’t have any idea what old Ted is doing. After the fight he and Trish had last night, I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of him today.”

  “A fight?” Paul had walked on ahead, and Susan hoped Ryan would keep talking.

  “They decided to do a review of great disagreements of the Taylor family on the patio around midnight. I suppose Paul may have found it interesting professionally, but the rest of us were a little embarrassed. The house isn’t air-conditioned, so we were pretty much forced to listen. I’m glad the girls were over here.” He looked at the two heads, bent over their work on the porch. “They really didn’t need to hear the details of their parents’ sexual dissatisfactions.”

  “But they didn’t mind that their guests heard?” Susan asked.

  “I don’t think they were in control enough to worry about who heard what. They were furious. Ted accused his ex-wife of being frigid—and then flirting with every man in sight at the same time. And Tricia explained in detail how Ted had caused her to lose interest in sex over the years and how his philandering had destroyed their marriage.”

  Susan nodded. This didn’t sound like the part of the argument that she had overheard, but at the time, she had gotten the impression that it wasn’t a short fight. “It must have been embarrassing for you. Have you been friends of the Taylors’ for long?” She asked a question that she had been wondering about since yesterday.

  “Since Sally and I got married. Sally and Tricia were roommates in college—in fact, Sally introduced Trish to Ted.”

  “Really?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, in fact, Trish says that if Sally hadn’t been such a pig, she and Ted would never have met. They were eating lunch in the student union, and Sally had ordered a huge hot butterscotch sundae for dessert and was in the middle of it when Ted appeared and asked her about an assignment for a psych class they were in together. Well, Sally introduced Trish to him, and he called her later in the day and asked her to go to a movie—but Trish was going with some other guy and refused. Then, over spring break, Trish and her boyfriend broke up and Trish went home with Sally—and guess who appeared?”

  “Ted Taylor?”

  “Yup. They started dating and were married the summer after their senior year. Sally was maid of honor at the wedding. Sally then went to New York to work as a junior copy editor at a publishing house—and that’s where we met. Ted and Trish were living in Denver at the time, so we didn’t meet right away. They came to our wedding a year later. But you know how weddings are: we met, but we really didn’t have time to get to know each other. And then Sally and I went skiing at Breckenridge the next winter and visited the Taylors for a few days. Sally and Tricia spent a lot of time reminiscing and catching up, so Ted and I had a chance to get to know each other pretty well.…”

  “And you liked each other right away?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Sure. Why not? We’ve never lived that close to each other, but Trish and Sally both go to all their college reunions, so we’ve become pretty good friends.”

  “But you seem to have stayed closer to Tricia than Ted after the divorce.”

  “Let me tell you, it’s not easy to stay friends with both members of a couple who are in the middle of a divorce. Tricia would bitch about Ted to Sally, and Ted would complain about Tricia to me, and then, worst of all, Sally and I would talk about them and end up arguing about our own relationship. Divorce is contagious, and don’t let anyone tell you anything different.”

  “But …”

  “But it was a lot easier after Tricia married Humphrey. Old Humph was dull, but his presence seemed to keep things calm. Otherwise we would never have agreed to come on this vacation. I was more than a little skeptical about it, I can tell you. But Sally said it was very important to Trish, and frankly, we’ve had a difficult year. The recession really knocked the cable industry for a loop, and I’ve been working eleven- and twelve-hour days, seven days a week, for a long time. I was even out of work for a while—and finding a job is harder than working these days. I thought I owed it to my wife to let her select the way we spent this vacation.”

  Susan thought about what she had heard between Sally and Paul the night before and decided that Ryan’s wife certainly hadn’t been as bored in the past year as he thought. And, anyway, he had spent the vacation fishing rather than courting his wife. Ryan apparently realized she might be thinking along these lines.

  “Sally wanted to be here to help Trish more than to be with me. Sally and Judy have been worried about Trish. Those girls have been driving her crazy ever since Humphrey appeared on the scene.…”

  “So you knew about the pranks that the girls had been pulling before you came here?”

  “Sure did. In fact, we were at the house the weekend after Tricia and Humphrey got back from their honeymoon and got to see old Humphrey’s face when he tasted what he thought was his precious Laiphroing. He looked like he was going to die right there—like he thought he had been poisoned. Of course, I think everyone there thought about the possibility of weed killer in his drink—or some other domestic poison. Titania was standing in the doorway of the room with a smirk on her face. But it turned out to be food coloring and root beer or some other bloody childish concoction.” He chuckled. “Old Humphrey was furious, I can tell you. I think it was a good thing that Ted kept the girls at his new apartment for a few extra weeks. The excuse was that their rooms were being repainted at their old house, but I think Trish and Ted agreed the girls were safer where they were—or that Humphrey was safer with them someplace else. To tell the truth, I’m not sure which.”

  “You think one of the girls might be a murderer?”

  “No. I didn’t mean that. I certainly don’t think any of them would intentionally kill Humphrey—or anyone else, for that matter. But they’re kids and they might not understand. I was talking with Paul about it the other day. He’s a psychiatrist, you know. And he was telling me that children don’t under
stand mortality—that they even believe that death isn’t permanent. He said that sometimes children kill their baby brothers and sisters but that they have no idea how serious a thing murder is.”

  “I think that might be true for some very young children,” Susan said slowly. “But certainly even Tierney understands that death is final. And I don’t know any of the girls well, but none of them seems to have anything wrong with her psychologically—at least nothing so serious that she might murder her stepfather thinking that it didn’t matter. Surely Paul didn’t imagine something like that could happen.”

  “No, I …”

  “Does he see children in his practice?” Susan asked, thinking that she might talk with Paul Briane and get an expert opinion since one was easily available.

  “No. He doesn’t see patients.”

  “Then what does he do?”

  “He runs a clinic. It’s designed to help people eliminate compulsive behavior from their lives—or something like that. I think he was expecting a lot of nymphomaniacs to sign up for the program when he opened the clinic, but apparently what most people do compulsively is eat. Judy says that when he got involved, he didn’t realize that he was going to be spending most of his working hours with fat women.” He grinned.

  “But if the clinic works, wouldn’t they be getting thin?” Susan asked, momentarily distracted.

  “They just get them on the road to recovery while they’re residents. Apparently they thin out when they get home—if the program works at all. I suppose it must. He sure seems to be raking in the money.”

  “Even in the recession …” Susan began, remembering how Ryan had said his own business had been doing in the past few years.

  “Even in a recession, people will pay to improve their lives. Self-help is the wave of the future. Lots of good businesses there.” He spoke with approval.

  “So you came to Maine because Tricia wanted Sally to be here.”

  He nodded. “I think she thought that the girls might lay off if there were other people around. I don’t think she thought anyone was going to murder Humphrey—don’t get me wrong. But I think she hoped it might make things easier if we were here. At least that’s the impression I got.”

  “Do you think Humphrey thought so, too?”

  “I thought old Humphrey was a little nervous, to tell the truth. I suppose picking up a glass and not knowing what’s in it could do that to anyone. And just the thought of finding my pockets full of pudding or thorns gives me the heebie-jeebies, to tell the truth.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Since last Saturday. Humphrey and Tricia had been doing better, come to think of it. When we got here, they were pretty nervous, but as the week’s gone on, everybody relaxed. Until you found Humphrey in your living room, that is.”

  “Tricia thought he had gone back to Boston?”

  “Yes. We all did. Some sort of business emergency. Humphrey got a call from the office sometime on Thursday and had to leave immediately. He was supposed to be back before the Fourth. I’m sure of that because he mentioned how terrible the traffic was going to be leaving the city during the holiday weekend.”

  “What business was he in?”

  “Oil and precious minerals exploration. Humphrey was a geologist. That’s what he was doing in Alaska and the Mideast for all those years.”

  “I didn’t know—” Susan began.

  “You know, that’s a wonderful kayak you’ve got. I just might win the race in that.” Paul Briane had returned. “We’d better get going,” he added to the other man.

  “What time is it?” Ryan looked at his watch.

  “Time to get into the water and find that yacht club. You said you’d be at the finish line?” he asked Susan.

  “We sure will,” she answered, wishing he had waited a while before joining them. She had been learning so much from Ryan.

  “Then we’d better get going,” Paul said. “Besides, it looks like you’ve got company.” He nodded over Susan’s shoulder.

  Susan turned and saw Janet Shapiro coming around the corner of her house. She waved as the men, walking her kayak down to the sea, thanked her for the loan.

  “Do you have a few minutes?” Janet Shapiro asked, nodding to the girls and Kathleen, who were still on the porch. “I’d like to talk with you.”

  “Of course. Do you want Kathleen, too?”

  “Sure do. I can use all the help I can get.”

  “Then why don’t we go in and get some coffee or tea? I gather you have a problem?”

  “You could say that.” The deputy waited until the three women were alone in the kitchen before explaining. And when she did explain, it was a surprise. “They’re fighting over the body.”

  “What?”

  “Tricia and Ted Taylor are fighting over custody of the body of Humphrey Taylor. Neither wants it. I called the man in charge of the morgue to tell him that I was going to sign the forms that would release Humphrey’s body to his wife right after the autopsy was completed—and it turns out she and Ted Taylor have been fighting over it.”

  “Why?”

  “Who knows?” Janet shrugged. “I suppose you could say that Humphrey was closer to Ted than to a woman that he’d been married to for less than a year. I suppose an argument could be made for Ted Taylor’s rights to his brother’s body here.”

  “And you agree with that?” Susan thought that Kathleen sounded skeptical.

  “Not really. No. But I don’t want to get in the middle of a family feud—or a lawsuit, for that matter. I’m letting them fight it out among themselves right now. But there’s only so long that I can put off handing the body over to someone. It’s a holiday weekend, and I can use that as an excuse till Tuesday, but I sure hope those two find that they can agree to something before then. The morgue isn’t so big that we can store bodies indefinitely.”

  “How’s the investigation going?” Susan asked, passing mugs of steaming coffee.

  “The weekend may be making it easier to keep Humphrey Taylor, but it isn’t making it easier to find out anything about him. I have calls in to a few contacts in Boston, but everyone is promising to call back—on Tuesday. And people here on the island don’t know much about Humphrey Taylor. It was Ted Taylor who had been spending so much time on the island since last spring. He’s practically got his own personal room at The Landing Inn—they even let him stay there over the winter, when they’re usually closed. He loved that house.”

  “He still does,” Susan said. “I wonder why it went to his wife in the divorce settlement.”

  “I don’t know. Do you think it might have any bearing on the murder?” Janet asked.

  “Probably not, but we should try to find out everything that we can about that house. It may hold a clue to the murder,” Susan mused.

  “You’re thinking of the note from Titania,” Kathleen said, nodding.

  “That’s the note you mentioned in the message on my answering machine last night?”

  Susan nodded. “Titania left a message in Halsey’s coat yesterday. It’s right here in the drawer under the phone. I was going to bring it over to your house first thing this morning, but I didn’t get to bed until awfully late, and frankly, I forgot.” She got up while talking and retrieved the letter, handing it immediately to Janet Shapiro. “I know I should have given it to you right away, but …”

  “It’s good to know that she’s alive,” was Janet’s first comment. “The search is going full blast. Every volunteer fireman is out in the woods, and a bunch of high school kids are knocking on the doors of each house on the island. I sure hope they find her soon. I have a feeling she knows something about all this.”

  “And it’s interesting what she says about the mantel, isn’t it?” Susan insisted on returning to the topic.

  “Sure is. I guess we’d better go right over there and check this out.”

  “Just like that? Just walk in and ask to see the mantel?” Susan was surprised, thinking over the plans
she had made, most of which included breaking and entering.

  “Just like that.” Janet stood up, smoothing the white T-shirt she wore down over her ample chest. “That’s one of the advantages of being a police person.”

  ELEVEN

  “More questions?”

  “Yes.” Janet Shapiro was blunt. “I don’t think it will take more than a few minutes.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Tricia Taylor surprised Susan by saying. “You can pick up some clean clothing for the girls. I’m glad they’re staying with you. I feel much better about all this knowing that they’re out of harm’s way.”

  “They’re very nice girls, and I’m enjoying having them. They’re busy building a float for the parade tomorrow,” Susan explained.

  “Then we’ll all have to go see it,” Tricia assured her, before turning her attention back to the policewoman.

  Susan thought that was the very least she could do, but she didn’t say anything.

  “I’d like to look at your mantel,” Janet explained. “I understand that there’s a history of the family carved on it.”

  “The history of the family according to my ex-husband is carved on it,” Tricia corrected her. “Feel free.” She waved toward the living room. “I’ll just run upstairs and get some things for my daughters.” She left them to find their own way.

  “She doesn’t seem terribly concerned about Titania’s disappearance, does she?” Susan asked quietly as they walked to the living room.

  “I’ll say. I’d be frantic if Bananas vanished. And I keep thinking that she should want her other daughters with her in this crisis. She doesn’t seem terribly concerned about any of her family members.”

  “True.” Susan followed Janet across the large, open space to the huge mantel. Made from what looked like chestnut, it was elaborately carved beneath the mantelpiece and halfway to the floor down either side.

  Janet bent down and examined the carvings, apparently deciding to move from left to right. Susan wasn’t so sure this was the correct order. In the middle of the design, centered, was what looked like a modern nativity scene. A woman, recognizably Tricia Taylor, sat under a tree with a baby in her lap, while two other children leaned over to get a closer look at the child. In the background of this tableau, a man peered from between three evergreens. To Susan, it looked like an idealization of the entire family—minus Humphrey.