Gabriel tossed a look over his shoulder and hit the doors again. “Would. You. Just. Stay. Back? I don’t want to worry about you getting hurt.”
The doors finally swung open, and I could hear a woman shouting for help as I trotted up behind Gabriel. By now, I was awake enough to pinpoint the sound as coming from almost directly below us in the garden.
Apparently, Primrose’s locked-gate security wasn’t all she’d played it up to be. I could hear voices in the distance, raised in alarm. Lights flicked on in the windows of the old folks’ annex across the garden.
Gabriel leaned over the balcony railing, careful not to put his weight on it. “Are you all right ma’am?” he called down.
“No! I need help!” the voice replied. It sounded like Primrose.
We both turned on a dime and bolted across the room. Gabriel was out the door a half step ahead of me, but I was hot on his heels and racing down the hall toward the stairs.
We were halfway there when a door flew open at the other end of the hall. A young woman stumbled out of the room, followed by a rangy young man wearing boxers and a wife-beater T-shirt. I didn’t recognize them as one of the other couples I’d seen before, and I wondered if they’d made themselves scarce earlier or if they’d checked in after the cocktail party.
The young man rubbed his eyes and focused slowly on Gabriel and me. “Hey. What’s going on?”
Gabriel didn’t even break stride. “I think someone’s hurt in the garden. I’m going to see if I can help.”
The young man started after him, but his companion clutched his arm and stopped him. “No, Antwon. Don’t. Please.”
Gabriel had almost reached the end of the hall and was about to head downstairs without me. I tried to edge around the young couple, but they were blocking my way and neither was paying the slightest bit of attention to me.
“It’s all right, Tamarra,” the young man said as he tried to disentangle himself from the woman’s grasp. “We’ll just go check to see what’s going on. If there’s trouble, we’ll call for help. I promise.”
His plan sounded reasonable to me, but Tamarra shook her head wildly. “You could get hurt.”
“I’ve got to go, baby. This place is crazy. You know what it’s like. God only knows what these people are up to now.”
Crazy people up to no good? I shot an “I told you so” look at Gabriel, but he didn’t even glance back. “You know the folks who live here?” I asked.
Tamarra stared at me as if she’d forgotten I was standing there. “Of course. My grandmother is the owner. Who are you anyway?”
“Rita L—” I caught myself from giving my real last name just in time. “My husband and I are here on our honeymoon. That’s him heading downstairs.” I pointed toward the top of Gabriel’s head, which was the only part of him still visible, and then waved my hands at the blockage they were creating. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on outside, but I’d feel better if Gabriel didn’t go out there alone.”
Antwon kissed Tamarra quickly and managed to step clear of her grasp. “She’s right, baby. I have to go. Somebody could be hurt. You two stay here. We’ll be right back.”
He pressed Tamarra toward me and thundered down the stairs behind Gabriel, apparently confident that we’d stay behind like good little girls.
So of course I bolted after them.
Tamarra shouted for me to stop, then changed her mind and ran after me. I could hear her behind me, breathing hard as we ran. By the time we made it downstairs, residents were beginning to wander in from the old timers’ wing.
Blinking in the sudden flare of light, Cleveland led the charge—if you could call it that. He was followed closely by Grey, who’d changed from his uniform to flannel pajamas and now looked like an ordinary old man from the current century.
Lula Belle shuffled into the parlor on her walker, wearing a pair of lacy white pajamas that were oddly disconcerting on a woman her age. “What’s going on?” She sounded different, and it took me a moment to realize that she’d left her teeth in her bedroom.
“Someone’s in trouble,” I said as I hurried past. “Gabriel and one of the other guests went to see if they could help.”
Lula Belle spotted Tamarra and stopped moving. “Well hello, honey. When did you and your handsome husband get here?”
“A couple of hours ago.” Tamarra looked distracted and edgy, but when Lula Belle lifted her cheek for a kiss, Tamarra complied almost without thinking.
“Why didn’t somebody tell us you were coming?” Lula Belle fussed. “I would have waited up.”
“It was a last-minute decision,” Tamarra said with a tight smile. She glanced toward the patio doors and chewed her bottom lip. “You don’t think Antwon’s in any danger, do you?”
Lula Belle patted her arm reassuringly. “Now, honey, don’t you fret. I saw Primrose and Hyacinth outside a little while ago. One of them probably fell, that’s all.”
That scream hadn’t sounded like a twisted ankle to me, but I didn’t want Tamarra to get worked up, so I kept my opinion to myself. “That’s probably it,” I said. “Why don’t you stay here with Lula Belle? I’ll check on the guys and be back in a minute.”
Tamarra seemed relieved by my suggestion, so I pushed out through the doors and set off along the path that led toward our bedroom window. Overgrown shrubbery tore at my clothes as I raced toward the sound of voices. But when I saw Dontae Thomas on the ground, his legs on the sidewalk and his huge upper body in the dirt, my own legs stopped working. The stench of vomit filled the air, and I covered my nose and mouth with a hand to keep myself from adding to it.
Clearly agitated, Antwon was pacing the short length of sidewalk. Primrose and Hyacinth stood to one side clutching each other tightly, their faces frozen in stunned disbelief. Gabriel was hunkered down beside Dontae checking for a pulse.
“What happened?” Antwon demanded. “What in the hell happened?”
Tears streamed down Primrose’s face. She tried to back away from Antwon’s anger, but Hyacinth held her fast and skewered the young man with a look. “I don’t know, Antwon, and neither does Primrose. She came outside to throw out the trash and found him like this.”
If Primrose had been carting out the trash, I must not have been asleep that long. I glanced around to see if anyone was wearing a watch, but it was too dark to tell.
Antwon rubbed his face with both hands and turned to Gabriel. “Is he breathing?”
Gabriel shook his head sadly. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure. I could use some help turning him over.”
Antwon looked as if he wanted to refuse, but he just clamped his mouth shut tight and bent to the task. Even with the two men working together, it was a struggle to roll the big guy onto his back. When they finally managed, Primrose let out a strangled cry and even Hyacinth looked rattled.
Grim-faced, Gabriel checked once more for a heartbeat, but I don’t think any of us expected him to find one. After a moment, he lowered Dontae’s massive arm to the ground and got to his feet to state what was by then obvious to everyone in the garden.
“I think he’s dead.”
Thirteen
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Antwon called 911 while Gabriel and I helped Primrose and Hyacinth inside and told the others what had happened. When Tamarra heard that Dontae was dead, she dropped like a stone onto the couch beside Lula Belle, who stared straight ahead and clutched her lacy robe together tightly. The other two couples I’d seen when we checked in had made their way into the parlor while I was outside. They hovered in separate corners, looking shell-shocked.
“Are you sure he’s . . . dead?” Tamarra asked. “Maybe he’s just passed out.”
“He’s dead, baby,” Hyacinth said. “There’s no question.”
Wrinkles folded over one another on Cleveland’s face. “How? How did it happen?”
Grey spoke up from the spot he’d claimed near the window. “I hate to say it, but he was a heart attack just waiting
to happen.”
“He’s right,” Antwon said as he came back into the room. “The man ate like there was no tomorrow.”
Cleveland blinked several times and blew his nose into his handkerchief. “If I told him once, I told him a thousand times. He was too sedentary. I tried to get him to do something—anything. But you know how he was.”
Everyone in the group nodded solemnly, and Lula Belle muttered, “Stubborn old fool.”
Primrose let out a little sob and mopped her face with a tissue. “Sister is—” She broke off with a shudder. “—was always after him to take better care of himself.”
Hyacinth sank into a chair and shook her head as if she was having trouble processing the news. “But I just saw him. We all did. He was going to turn in right after dinner.”
“Did he say anything to anyone about feeling ill?” Gabriel asked.
Grey turned away from the window with a scowl. “If he had, don’t you think one of us would have kept an eye on him?”
“He didn’t mean anything by that,” I said gently. “How long ago did Dontae go to his room?”
Lula Belle looked at a clock on the mantle. “An hour, maybe.”
“Obviously, he changed his mind about going to sleep,” Grey said. “What was he doing in the garden? Anybody know?”
Nobody had an answer for that question, and the arrival of the EMTs and a couple of uniformed officers kept us all busy for the next few minutes. Primrose, Gabriel, and Antwon all answered questions about finding Dontae in the garden, while Grey and Cleveland offered insights into Dontae’s activities before he died. Hyacinth disappeared into the kitchen to make coffee, and Lula Belle talked quietly with Tamarra.
After a while, the police and the EMTs disappeared into the garden, and I figured that was that. But a few minutes later, one of the uniformed officers came back inside in a hurry, his face a grim mask. He rushed through the parlor and out the front door, dialing a number on his cell phone as he walked. His partner, a short, solid man with blond hair and blue eyes, came in from the garden a moment later.
“My partner is calling homicide,” he said to all of us assembled in the room. “They should be here shortly, but I need all of you to stick around and wait for them to arrive.”
Cleveland had relaxed into one of the armchairs, but now he shot to attention. “Homicide? Why?”
“Because your friend didn’t die from a heart attack, and that’s standard procedure when we come across a suspicious death.”
Primrose had just come back from the kitchen, carrying a tray loaded with cups and spoons. She gave a choked gasp and dropped the tray with a loud clang and the sound of breaking china. Tamarra immediately went over to help clean up. “Suspicious death? What is he talking about?”
“You heard the man,” Cleveland snapped. “He’s saying Dontae didn’t die of natural causes.”
Hyacinth stumbled as she trailed her sister into the room and her eyes widened in horror. “Is that right? You suspect that he was murdered?”
Tamarra popped up as if she was spring-loaded and rushed to the sisters. She put a protective arm around Hyacinth and rubbed Primrose’s shoulder with her free hand. “He didn’t say that,” Tamarra insisted. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
That sounded like good advice to me, but the word murder set off a chain reaction. One of the brides, a young woman with full lips, glossy hair, and a voice like fingernails on a chalkboard, let out an earsplitting scream. Her husband, a bullish kid large enough to make up the entire defensive lineup for a football team, gathered her into his arms and shouted something at the emergency technician.
I couldn’t hear what it was over the clamor of voices on my end of the room. I spotted Gabriel trying to get between the linebacker and the paramedic, which might not have been the smartest move. I thought about trying to stop him, but I was no match for Mr. Linebacker, and besides, I had my hands full with Lula Belle, who suddenly sagged back against the couch cushions, eyes fluttering weakly.
“Everyone calm down,” Tamarra shouted. “The man never said anything about murder—did you?” She pinned the poor paramedic with a stare that clearly said she expected him to agree with her.
“The coroner will have to make the official call,” he said, “but it looks like your friend may have been poisoned.”
Miss Hysteria’s wails grew even louder, and her husband continued his clumsy attempts to console her. The other young woman, a full-figured girl in a short satin nightgown, rose to her feet and proclaimed loudly, “That’s it, Michael. We’re out of here. Do you hear me?”
“Not just yet,” the technician warned. “I’m going to need all y’all to stick around until the detectives arrive.”
“Then you do think he was murdered?” I asked, in what I hoped was a noninflammatory tone of voice. The EMT didn’t reply, but he didn’t deny it either.
Lula Belle gripped my hand so tightly, I flinched. Apparently, she was stronger than she’d let on. “Who could have done such a horrible thing? Who would want to?”
Cleveland bleated a harsh laugh. “I think we all know the answer to that, don’t we?”
I didn’t, but I was interested in his opinion.
Primrose stepped over the tray and broken coffee cups, her expression changing from shock to outrage. “That’s ridiculous, Cleveland. Just because you hate Monroe, that’s no reason to go around accusing him of murdering Dontae.”
Gabriel had maintained his position between Michael the honeymooning linebacker and the EMT, but as Primrose advanced on Cleveland, he moved to block her path. “You think Monroe did this?” he asked Cleveland.
“Who else would have done it?” the old man snarled.
“Anyone but Monroe,” Primrose snarled back at the same time that Lula Belle let out a heavy sigh and said, “That man always was trouble.”
This from the woman who’d tried to seduce him just a few hours earlier.
Hyacinth managed to pull herself out of her fog and took charge. “Stop!” she ordered. “Right now. I won’t have you dredging up the past, Cleveland. Do you hear? And you”—she glared at Lula Belle—“you know better.”
Lula Belle clamped her toothless mouth shut tightly, but her beady little eyes flashed with resentment.
Hyacinth didn’t care. She turned the full force of her anger on the paramedic next. “You must be wrong, young man. I’m sure Dontae wasn’t poisoned. One of those no-good boys from the neighborhood probably mugged him for his medications.”
The EMT shook his head. “That’s doubtful, ma’am.”
“I know you don’t want to believe that this could happen under your roof,” Gabriel said, “but I think it’s unlikely the EMTs would mistake a mugging for murder by poison.”
Tamarra urged her grandmother toward a chair. “It’s pointless to speculate. We won’t know what happened until they do an autopsy.”
Everyone fell silent until the EMTs and police officers returned to the scene of the crime in the garden. The instant the door closed behind them, speculation started up again.
“It could have been a mugging,” Grey argued. “You don’t know this neighborhood. I’ve told Dontae a thousand times not to go wanderin’ around late at night.”
“It’s not the best neighborhood,” Cleveland agreed, using his arms to punctuate the points he was making. “But nothing’s actually happened to any of us until now. You think it’s a coincidence that Monroe showed up two days ago and now one of us is dead?”
Maybe I should have warned them about talking in front of the police, but my loyalty was to Old Dog Leg, not this crazy bunch of strangers. Besides, this might be my only chance to hear them talk so freely, so I bit my tongue.
Antwon bent to pick up some of the broken china Primrose had left on the floor. “I think we’d all better just calm down. The investigators are on their way, and I called Pastor Rod and asked him to come. Until they get here, let’s quit flinging unfounded accusations.”
“If they were unf
ounded,” Cleveland grumbled, “I wouldn’t make them.”
Antwon caught Tamarra’s eye and nodded toward the kitchen. “Would you mind grabbing some more cups, babe? I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
Tamarra gave Hyacinth a reassuring squeeze before trotting off like a dutiful wife. I was so full of questions, I was about to split at the seams, so I offered to help in the hopes of pumping her for information.
Just as I reached the door, Cleveland glared around the room. “Hold on a second,” he said. “Where is Monroe anyway?”
I think every head in the place turned, first to look at Cleveland and then to search around the room as if we all expected to find Monroe hiding in a corner or under the couch.
Lula Belle spoke first. “I haven’t seen him since cocktail hour. You don’t think—”
“You’re damn right I do.” Cleveland was halfway to the door before the rest of us could react.
Grey hoisted himself up and plodded after him. “I told you not to trust him,” he said to no one in particular. “A tiger doesn’t change his stripes. I don’t care how many chances he gets.”
Curious about what stripes Monroe might have had to change, I abandoned the idea of making coffee with Tamarra and joined the parade. Gabriel fell into step behind me. “Never a dull moment,” he said into my ear.
I whispered over my shoulder, “I told you there was something weird going on here.”
“It appears that you’re right.”
“Why is Cleveland so certain that Monroe killed Dontae?”
“Is that really any of our business?”
I gaped at him. “What do you want to do, tell Old Dog Leg that the good news is Monroe is his brother, but the bad news is he might also be a cold-blooded killer?”
“It’s the truth.”
“Well, I’m not going to do that to him. Obviously, he cares about Monroe and about the promise he made to his mother. He deserves answers about what happened forty years ago, not more questions.”
Arsenic and Old Cake Page 10
