Murder Welcomes You to Buxley

by Maddie Cochere

  “Is that Ravens?” a familiar voice shouted from down the hallway and around the corner. “Get her back here!”

  How in the world did that man know everything that was going on in the station? It suddenly dawned on me that he probably had cameras all over the building and had access to the feed in his office. That made a few sexy moments between Glenn and me in the interrogation room not so private any longer. I didn’t know if I should cringe or laugh.

  I hurried to his office and plopped into the chair opposite his desk. “Good morning, Sergeant.”

  “There’s nothing good about this morning, and you know it. Why did you move that girl last night?”

  I tried to look incredulous and offended that he would accuse me. “I didn’t move her. I never laid a hand on her.”

  “When you called it in, you said she had been strangled.”

  I nodded my head. “It was obvious. The marks on her neck were clearly visible.”

  He threw a photo down in front of me. “I don’t see marks on her neck. Do you?”

  The photo was an official police photo. When Reggie flopped over onto her side after I poked her with the cardboard, her hair obscured her neck.

  “Did you read my report?” I asked.

  The sergeant’s face turned red. He raised the volume on his voice. “It said she was leaning against the dumpster. This is not leaning.”

  “I thought you saw it happen, so I didn’t write it down. Right when you pulled up, she flopped over onto her side.”

  His face became redder still. “Jo, I’m not joking this time. If you touched that body-”

  I cut him off. “I didn’t touch her.” I knew it was a lie of omission, but I hadn’t actually touched her. The cardboard did. “She was already kind of leaning over – like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. And did you know the human head weighs ten pounds? She was dead, so she wasn’t able to hold her head up, and it probably made her top heavy, and she fell over. I’m not a scientist. I can’t explain it.”

  His face went into the purple range of the color spectrum. The Leaning Tower of Pisa remark was probably over the top. If he had a stroke, I would never be able to look at the famous building the same way. Not that I ever looked at it.

  “Get out!” he shouted.

  I made double-time down the hall. The desk officer had a huge smile on his face as I ran out the door to safety.

  Twenty minutes later, I was sitting at a table in Chummy Burgers and More, shoveling a large pancake breakfast into my mouth. When every last bite had been consumed, I leaned back in my chair and debated about my schedule for the day.

  There was no way I wanted to go back over to Patterson. It would be like beating a dead horse. The mental image of beating a dead horse was disturbing, but I couldn’t help smiling.

  “What’s so funny?”

  I looked up as Aunt Bee sat down in the chair across from me. She set a small breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee in front of her.

  “Idioms. Idioms are funny.” I said.

  “What are idioms?” she asked.

  “You guys are for going with Mama to the theater today. You know she’ll find some way to embarrass you.”

  She smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s never a dull moment with your mama. What are you up to today? Want to come with us?”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. I thought about going home and sleeping all day, but I have cases I need to work on.”

  “What do you think about Duck Hutton?” she asked.

  “What’s there to think about? The police have already cleared him. He has a solid alibi.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I hear a lot of gossip on my beat. Most of it’s true. Some of it isn’t. I’ve heard a lot of gossip about that Duck character. I’ve heard he’s a loud mouth and a bully. He’s a drug user. He’s responsible for the nursing home fire three months ago. I don’t know how much of what I’ve heard about him is true, but if he was the dead girl’s boyfriend, he was probably involved. The police might have counted him out, but you might not want to just yet.” She picked up her sandwich and coffee. “Gotta run. I’m writing parking tickets until the curtain goes up.”

  Aunt Bee was cool. Everyone adored her. She was like Mama in that she could be the life of the party, but her humor wasn’t crass like Mama’s. I couldn’t help smiling. Between Aunt Bee and Mama, our upbringing had been awesome – even without a dad.

  My thoughts shifted to the nursing home fire. I had never heard any rumors about who was responsible. It was ruled arson at the time, but there weren’t any clues or leads, and I thought the investigation had gone cold. Why would someone tell Aunt Bee they thought Duck had something to do with it?

  I suddenly knew what I wanted to do today. I left Chummy’s and drove back to the police station. I opened the door slowly and crept in. The desk officer smiled again. I put my finger to my lips in a shush motion. He whipped his finger across his neck again. I whispered my request.

  “What was the name of the grocery warehouse in Parkersburg where Duck Hutton was waiting to be offloaded?”

  “Mickelson Foods,” he said without whispering.

  A bellow sounded from down the hallway and around the corner. “Is that Ravens? Don’t tell her anything!”

  I scrambled out the door and made a fast getaway. I knew driving to Parkersburg could be a wild goose chase, but I had a strong feeling there was a clue to Reggie’s murder there.

  An hour into the drive, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I had already stopped for a milkshake and a restroom break, and I didn’t want to stop again. I tried listening to music, but it annoyed me this morning.

  I grabbed my phone to call home and check for messages on my answering machine. I hated the thought of ditching the whole red phone and answering machine setup, but now that business was picking up, it would probably be the smart thing to get a new cell phone for investigative work only. One of these days I was going to miss something critical by only checking the machine a couple times each day – if I even remembered to check it that often.

  Calling the machine took time, too. It rang nearly a dozen times before my recorded message played. I was startled to hear a voice this morning that wasn’t mine. “Hey, you’ve reached Two Sisters and a Journalist. You’ve never met three more snoopy women in your life. They’ll catch your significant other in the act. They’ll find your lost property. They’ll find your dead body and your murderer, too. Leave your message at the beep, and they’ll get right on it.”

  Alan! I was going to kill him! I didn’t know how to change the message remotely. Anyone who called was going to hear his idiocy until I could get home and record a new message.

  What was he doing in the house anyway? I didn’t think he still had a key, and I hadn’t talked to him since I threw him out again last fall. What was wrong now?

  His message had me so distracted, I had to call the machine again and have the messages replayed.

  The first was from Mama last night. “Lucille fell and broke her elbow. She can’t bowl any more. I said you’d fill in for the rest of the season. I’ll have a shirt ready for you this weekend.”

  Mama! I was going to kill her! I didn’t want to bowl every week with her. And I certainly didn’t want to wear their shirt.

  The next message was from Curt Hendershot, “Hi Jo. It’s Curt. Any news on the car yet? It’s important I get the box back. Call me with a report.”

  Hmm. His incriminating evidence was in a box. I’d call him back later and press him to tell me more. What was in the box? Bearer bonds? Counterfeit money? A human head?

  I smiled. Sometimes my runaway imagination entertained me.

  The last message was Dana Wyler’s. She was animated as she spoke. “Jo, I heard from Johnny. Nothing’s happened to him. He only talked for a minute, but he wanted me to know he was ok. Give me a call, and we’ll discuss getting you paid.”

  I didn’t like the soun
d of that one bit. His calling home didn’t pass the smell test. Why did he leave in the first place without saying a word? Why drop out of school so close to graduation? Was he only calling now because he caught wind I was snooping around? I’d feel the situation out when I talked with her later.

  Alan’s recorded greeting combined with the messages on my answering machine had done a good job of waking me up. I had no trouble driving the remaining forty minutes into Parkersburg.

  Mickelson Foods was easy to find. They distributed to grocery stores in six states, and their facility covered several acres. I parked in an employee lot and walked to the guardhouse. A stereotypical, short, skinny, old man with white hair and glasses was in the wide booth. I couldn’t help smiling.

  He slid a pane of the window aside and asked, “What can I do for you, Missy?”

  I handed my card to him. “I’m Jo Ravens. I’m a private investigator in Buxley. Do you know who was working here at the guardhouse last night between six and nine o’clock?”

  “Sure do. It was me. I’m working twelves this week. Nine to nine.”

  “I’m investigating the murder of a young woman. The police said her boyfriend was here waiting to have his truck unloaded at the time of her murder.”

  “Yep. Heard all about it, but Duck showed up three hours early and slept in his truck until his scheduled offload at nine fifteen. It wasn’t him who done it.”

  “Did he have to sign in when he arrived?”

  “Yep.”

  Without my asking, he slapped his book up on the sill and squinted at the page. “It’s a little blurry for me today,” he said. He finally pointed to Duck’s signature.

  “Could I have a copy of this?” I asked. “I think it could help. You know, in case there are other doubters as to whether or not he was here.”

  “I ‘spose I could do that,” he said. “But it was Duck in his truck. He’s the only guy comes through here regular like wearing a Stetson.”

  He made a copy and handed it to me. When I was back in my car, I pulled out the card Pepper had given to me. The handwriting didn’t match.

  Chapter Eight

  “Jo, wake up!” Pepper hissed. “You’re snoring.”

  I sat up and was momentarily confused but quickly remembered Pepper and I were parked in the convenient store parking lot waiting for George Graham to leave his office. He would then meet his mistress, we would take pictures, give them to Lois, and I would get a paycheck.

  “I don’t snore,” I said. “What time is it?”

  “Ten minutes after the last time you asked.”

  “You only let me sleep for ten minutes? It’s your fault I’m so tired today. I’d be able to stay awake if I could have slept in this morning.”

  I knew I’d been snappish all day. I tried to smooth things over a bit by asking, “Did you have fun at the theater today?”

  “We had a blast. The play was good, and Keith was only disruptive for a few minutes. But then Mama farted and caused her own disturbance. The kids are staying with her tonight, and Keith has to rub her feet for half an hour. I swear, he and Mama deserve each other. One is as bad as the other.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. Keith was a handful, and Mama was notorious for having no shame over belching or passing gas. It was almost a sport with her.

  “Did you get to sit next to Darby?”

  “No. The Kapinsky spinsters were all over him. Sheila sat on one side and Sherry on the other. They were his bookends all day.”

  I could hear disappointment in her voice.

  “Look,” she said excitedly. “The eagle is on the move.”

  George had left his office and was already pulling out of his lot. We almost missed him. Pepper put her car in gear and pulled out behind him.

  “Don’t get too close,” I said. “I don’t want him to recognize me.”

  She let out a loud ha sound. “It’s dark. Look behind us. Can you see who’s driving that car? He won’t recognize you, and he doesn’t know my car. Relax. I got this.”

  I appreciated Pepper’s willingness to drive tonight, but I disliked not being in control. I couldn’t risk George seeing me again. He would know for sure I wasn’t investigating his housekeeper.

  “Stay back,” I said. “Let a car or two get between us.”

  Pepper laughed. “You’re as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Settle down. There’s a ton of traffic out here. He’s not going to notice us following him.”

  She was right, and I had to smile at her cat reference. That was one of Mama’s sayings from when we were kids. She was usually catching one of us in a lie when she said it.

  We followed him almost out of town to the hotel near the interstate. It was the hotel where all the people from the nursing home had been relocated until it was rebuilt this coming spring. There were only a few rooms available for booking, and Rita had told Mama that Susan was staying in one of them even though her husband was staying at the bed and breakfast. Maybe the two of them really did murder Reggie. They weren’t normal.

  George parked, jumped out of his car, and rushed into the hotel.

  Pepper unbuckled her seatbelt, opened the door, and said, “Come on.”

  “I can’t go in there. What if he sees me? He’s already caught me once. Twice will tip him off that I’m following him. You go. If you see anything, snap a picture with your cell phone. He’s probably here to see one of the nursing home occupants anyway.”

  She rushed off, and I was left to chew a thumbnail. I never chewed my nails, but I couldn’t seem to stop gnawing on this one.

  Pepper had parked facing away from the front doors. My neck was starting to ache from swiveling around and watching for her every few seconds.

  It was only a few minutes later that she came out the door and ran across the lot. She disappeared, and I felt a bump at the back of the car. Frog feathers! I warned her earlier about running through the convenient store parking lot when she went in to use the bathroom. She should have known the same advice applied here.

  I unbuckled and stepped out of the car to give her a hand, but George chose that moment to step out of the hotel to take a phone call. I ducked down beside the car. I could hear Pepper squeaking. I got down on my hands and knees and looked under the car. She was head first under the back bumper with her hands over her mouth trying to contain her laughter.

  “Get up!” I yell-whispered. “George is outside, and if he sees you, he’ll come over to help.”

  She managed to pull herself together, get on her feet, and shout to the universe, “Found it!”

  We hopped into the car at the same time and burst into laughter. Clumsiness ran in our family, and we’d both had our share of spectacular falls, but Pepper being wedged under a bumper was too much. We laughed until we cried.

  “Are you hurt?” I finally managed to ask.

  “No. But I’ve never fallen head first while running before. It was like sliding into home plate.”

  “Why were you running? Did he catch you spying on him?”

  “No, but I got the goods. I was so excited, I forgot about the patches of ice.”

  “You saw George with another woman?”

  “I think I snapped a picture when they were in an embrace. It’s gold, Jo. Another case put to rest thanks to Two Sisters and a Journalist.”

  She pulled the pictures up on her camera and selected the money shot. George was in an embrace all right.

  “That’s Kinsey Graham. That’s his daughter.”

  “Oh, sick,” she said with disgust. “I didn’t think stuff like that happened in small towns like ours.”

  “Pepper, he’s not having an affair with his daughter. She’s getting married in June. They’re probably here to see about renting a room for the reception. He was giving her a hello hug.”

  She stared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter again.

  Her laughter was infectious, but a few minutes later, I felt a heavy fatigue. I wanted nothing more now than
to go home, take a hot shower, and hop into bed. George could leave his daughter and meet his lover for an evening rendezvous, but he was going to have to do it without me. I had a rendezvous of my own planned – with my bed.

  I looked over at Pepper and said, “Let’s go home. I’m done.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Hot showers were overrated. Soaking in a hot bath was magical.

  I sighed for the umpteenth time over the sheer wonderfulness of relaxing in a bubble bath. I hadn’t done this for years, and I had forgotten how stress melted away while doing nothing more than lying in hot, bubble-filled water.

  I stuck my big toe in the faucet. Did toes really get stuck in these things? I double-checked to be sure my cell phone was within reach in case mine did.

  I let out another loud sigh, and my mind began to recycle the events of the day...

  Going to Parkersburg to talk with the guard had been a smart move. Someone else could have driven Duck’s truck, wore his hat, and signed him in. It was after sunset when he signed the log, and the old man couldn’t see very well, so he probably noticed the hat and assumed it was Duck. It would then appear that Duck was sitting at Mickelson’s when he was really in Buxley strangling Reggie. He had plenty of time to get back to his truck and switch places with his accomplice before his offload time. It made perfect sense, but why kill her? Everyone said they had been arguing over a phone. That wasn’t a reason for murder. Why not just buy another one?

  I would give the police another day or two to solve the case before I started asking around.

  When I arrived home from Parkersburg, my plan had been to climb into bed and sleep for a few hours. I wanted to be rested when Pepper and I went on our stakeout.

  I walked into the kitchen and spotted an envelope on the counter. I knew it would be from Alan. I reheated a cup of coffee in the microwave and sat down at the breakfast bar to read it.

  It wasn’t a letter. It was a check. A very large check. The note attached read, My attorney convinced me it was only right to give you your half of Aunt Julia’s money. The check includes your half of the sale of her house. Ciao, Baby! Alan