by Bill Noel
“No. Who’s this Edwina?”
“Someone who knows something about Starr’s death,” Charles said. “The police want to talk to her.”
Did he forget how he and Detective Lawrence had left their conversation?
“You know if there’s anything I can do to help Heather I will. Do the cops have anything other than it being her gun? Think they’re looking for other suspects?”
Charles sat straighter. “Nothing that proves she did it, because she didn’t.” He hesitated. “They’re not looking for anyone else. They’re convinced Heather's guilty.”
“Her gun shot him,” she repeated. “That’s why she’s in jail.”
I wondered why she’d mentioned the gun a second time. I asked if she wanted a drink to keep her talking. I didn’t know what she might know, but at this point, she was the only person we could learn from. She said she was fine.
I said, “Do you remember if Heather mentioned the gun to anyone?”
Gwen nodded. “Sure. She told her friends about it. I already knew since I sold it to her. She liked having it and wanted everyone to know.”
“Where’d she keep it?”
“Most of the time in her purse. Wouldn’t do her good if it was in here and she was out somewhere. When she was at the Bird she left it in the car because she didn’t want it in her purse when she was on stage. Someone could steal it. She said even if the car didn’t lock, it was safer there.”
Charles said, “Who else knew that?”
“Where it was or that the car didn’t lock?”
“Both,” I said.
“Probably everybody who knew her. Wasn’t a secret, you know.” She looked at her oversized, colorful watch. “Whoops, have to go. Nice talking to you. Don’t forget to tell Heather I said hey.”
She was at the door and turned to Charles. “Don’t know if it means anything, but I do think I remember someone being with Edwina.”
Charles took a giant step toward her. “Who?”
“I don’t remember seeing anyone, but I recall one time she was talking about not performing because some guy with her needed to get to something on the other side of town.”
“And you didn’t catch a name or see the other person?”
“Nope.”
Gwen left and Charles stayed in the living room rather than holing up in his bedroom. He was thawing. He asked what we’d learned from Gwen’s visit. I told him I thought it strange for her to drop by. He said he thought it was sweet. I didn’t disagree, although something kept nagging me about how helpful she appeared to want to be; and how she kept asking if the police had any other evidence and if they were looking for other suspects.
Charles began pacing, and I asked what he wanted to do. He started to say something about trying to find Heather’s other friends and see if they knew anything about Edwina. I asked if he had any of their phone numbers, when my phone rang.
Cindy asked, “Where are you?”
“Nashville, in Charles’s apartment. Are you taking a survey of all your residents?”
“No.”
“You still in hardware heaven?”
“Screw you, or maybe that’s auger you. This hardware stuff’s confusing.”
“You’re calling to tell me that?”
“No, it’s about Edwina,” The chief switched out of teasing mode.
“Did you talk to her? What did she say?”
“No, I couldn’t talk to her.”
“What do you mean, couldn’t?” I said it with more of an edge than I had intended. “I know you’re in Charlotte. You could’ve called her.”
“I couldn’t because—”
My frustration from the last two days was overflowing. I interrupted, “She’s Heather’s only hope. Come on, Cindy, you’ve got to—”
“Stop!” Cindy blurted. “I can’t talk to her because she’s dead.”
“She’s what?”
“I said Edwina Robinson’s dead. A guy and his Dalmatian were renting a house out past the Washout and found her body yesterday morning floating in knee deep water. The dog was barking up a storm or the guy wouldn’t have noticed her.”
Charles was flinging his arms around and pointing to the phone. I took the hint and hit the speaker button.
“What happened?” I asked.
“They said she had on a bathing suit so it looks like she was swimming and got caught in a rip current.”
I remembered Edwina had told me she liked to surf. “She was a surfer. Did they find a surfboard?”
“Not that I know of.”
“When did it happen?”
“Best guess is she had been in the water for several hours, probably drowned day before yesterday, late afternoon.”
“Why do they think it was an accident? That’s a gigantic coincidence.”
“First, there were no signs of foul play, and second, it’s only a gigantic coincidence in your mind. You’re the only person who thinks she was tied to Starr’s murder.”
“I do too,” Charles cried. He leaned closer to the phone as if Cindy hadn’t heard his outburst and repeated it.
“Hi, Charles. How’s Heather holding up?”
Cindy hadn’t heard about the suicide attempt. I didn’t want to muddy whatever she had to say about Edwina with news about Heather. I put my forefinger to my lips and hoped Charles would take the hint and not mention Heather’s current condition.
“She’s doing the best she can.”
I couldn’t understand why Cindy didn’t think Edwina’s death was more than an accident. “What about Edwina’s lies about knowing Heather, or what about her saying she wasn’t in Nashville when he was killed? Or what—”
“Whoa. I’m not saying you’re wrong. Just saying there’s nothing concrete to follow up on. Sure, she lied. I’ll tell you something I learned in cop world a long time ago. People lie all the time. It doesn’t mean they’re guilty of anything except skirting the truth.”
I took a deep breath and rubbed my hand through my thinning hair. Charles stared at the phone and didn’t say anything.
I leaned closer to the phone. “Cindy, you have good cop instincts. Anything suspicious strike you?”
“Not really. There were no obvious signs of foul play, no signs of a struggle. I’ll call a little later and see if the autopsy showed anything out of the ordinary.”
“What about no surfboard?” I was reaching. I couldn’t get my mind around it being an accident.
“That might be strange if she’d been surfing. We don’t know she was. Even if she had a board, it wouldn’t be unprecedented for someone to find it with no one around and borrow it, if you catch my wave.”
Cindy was right. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Before you ask, I’ll call as soon as I learn something about cause of death.”
I thanked her, ended the call, looked at Charles, and said, “Now what?”
He looked at the silent phone and at me. “Even if Edwina’s death was an accident, she could have killed Starr.”
“Or, did someone kill Edwina? I can’t believe she went and accidently drowned when everything was starting to point to her.”
Charles nodded. “If she was killed, was it because someone found out she killed the sleazy agent and was getting revenge?”
“Consider this,” I said. “If Edwina didn’t kill Starr, did someone murder her because she knew who had killed him?”
“Who?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. It could be Edwina had nothing to do with Starr’s death, and drowned.”
Charles shook his head. “No way. She was killed because she either killed Starr or knew who did.”
I walked to the window and looked at Charles’s car in the parking lot. Cindy said they hadn’t found Edwina’s surfboard; she didn’t say if her car was nearby. I punched in Cindy’s number and was sent to voicemail. I left a message asking about Edwina’s car.
Then I remembered something Edwina had said. I had asked her if she ever pl
ayed Nashville. She’d said we’ve been there a time or two. And, Gwen also said she thought Edwina had someone with her.
“Do you know where Heather’s friend Jessica lives?” I asked.
“No, why?”
“How about her address?”
“Should be in Heather’s book. Did you forget my question?”
“No. I wanted to drop in on her and see if she remembers Edwina and anyone she may have been with at the Bluebird. I’d rather see her reaction in person. If you don’t have her address, a call will have to do.”
Charles must have decided my answer was acceptable. He went to the bedroom to get Heather’s book and returned without an address but with a number. I called and hung up when her machine kicked in.
I said, “Let’s visit good ole Dale and Kelly Windsor.”
“Same questions face-to-face?” Charles said and looked at his imaginary watch.
“What else do we have to do?”
“Nothing. Just wondering when the lawyer’s going to call.” He grabbed his Tilley, cane, and headed to the door.
We got to DK Studio quicker than the last time and found a parking space in front of the building. It helped that I had learned the way and that it wasn’t rush hour.
Charles looked at the studio. “So, are you going to first ask them if they killed Edwina or if they killed Starr and then Edwina?”
“Thought I’d start out more indirect and ask if Edwina had anyone with her when she cut her demo.”
“Next, you can ask if they ever take vacations, like going to Charleston in the last few days. And, here’s one, ask if when they were on vacation, if they happened to drown Edwina?”
“Did you forget the indirect part? Let me do the talking.”
“Okay. I’ll only butt in when you ask the wrong questions.”
I rang the bell and smiled at the camera staring at me from near the ceiling. Our last visit ended on less than hospitable terms, and hoped Dale and Kelly would be more accommodating today.
I recognized Dale’s voice from the speaker. “What now?”
“Hi, Ms. Windsor,” I said in my cheeriest voice. “We’d like to ask a few questions about one of your customers.”
“Who?” she said in less than a cheery voice.
I would rather have told her from the confines of the reception room. “Edwina Robinson. I believe she cut a demo here a few months back.”
There was a long pause before she said, “I told you before we had no more to say to you or your friend there.”
“We’d like to talk to you and your husband.”
“Kelly’s out of town and I’ve said all I’m going to.”
“Yes, but Edwina—”
“Goodbye.”
“That went well,” Charles whispered as we headed back to the car. “They’re back at the top of the suspect list.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. Something has them agitated. Don’t forget, they told us the last time we were here they didn’t have anything more to say.”
“Wonder why she asked who we wanted to know about before running us off?”
“Interesting.”
“You’re danged right it is. Did you catch that her hubby’s out of town? Bet he’s in Charleston. Let’s go back and get her to let us in.”
“I’ve got another idea.” Anything to prevent him from storming the fort—or the recording studio. “Let’s find out if the Windsors or Heather’s other two friends were on Folly when Edwina accidentally drowned.”
“So, your plan is to call each of them and ask if they’ve been on Folly lately. Oh, and if they had been, ask if they happened to drown Edwina while they were there?”
“Good idea, except I doubt it’ll work. I’ll call Cindy and have her check the Tides, and if she has time, a couple of the other nearby hotels. There are many places someone could have stayed in the area, so it’s a longshot.”
Charles stopped staring at DK Studios and hopped in the car. “Don’t forget to add Kelly Windsor to the list. A longshot’s better than no shot.”
“Did a president say that?”
“Not that I know of, why?”
“Never mind.” I punched Cindy’s number.
“What?”
“And a pleasant hello to you, Chief LaMond. Are you still in Charlotte?”
“Bolts and a bunch of nuts running all over the place. What now?”
I shared our thoughts that some of the people we knew were angry with Starr and had killed Edwina. If so, he or she would have been in the Folly area at the time of the alleged accident.
“What am I supposed to do about that?”
I asked if she could check the local hotels. She huffed, mumbled a profanity, and asked for the names. I gave them to her and thanked her for considering it. Another profanity was uttered. I started to end the call.
“Hang on,” the chief said. “I talked to the detective who’s considering the drowning and told him your thought that it wasn’t accidental. He asked if I agreed and I told him you were a prolific pain in the patoot, but were occasionally right. He said it looked like an accident. As a favor to me, he’ll look at it again.
“Great,” I said. “Did the detective find out if her car was nearby?”
“He’s checking.”
“Thanks.”
“Once again, you owe me.”
31
At seven the next morning, Charles was in the kitchen with both elbows resting on the table. He was staring at his phone. I resisted the urge to tell him a watched phone doesn’t ring, and instead poured a mug of coffee.
“When’s he going to call?” Charles asked as I joined him.
“It’s early.”
He turned away from the phone. “Abraham Lincoln said, ‘If there is a worse place than hell, I am in it.’” He pounded his fist on the table. “It couldn’t have been worse than waiting, wondering if she’s alive, and if she is, getting convicted and spending the rest of her life in prison.” Charles pushed away from the table and started pacing.
He wasn’t helping himself, and I couldn’t stand spending the day in here watching him suffer. “Let’s walk.”
“Nothing’s open.”
“Good, we won’t spend much money. We could go to that coffee shop and get some breakfast. The alternative is for me to fix cereal with water since there’s no milk.”
Charles grabbed his phone, and started toward the door.
Combining a coffee shop breakfast, a brisk walk to the bank of the Cumberland River, sitting for an hour watching the meandering river and watching commuters cross the bridge to the city, and a slower walk seven blocks along Broadway, kept his mind off Heather’s situation for three hours. Each time he started to bemoan the attorney not calling, I changed the subject. I avoided walking by the Top Ten Bar; he didn’t need a visual reminder of why Heather wasn’t with us.
I was as excited as Charles was when Darnell Edelen called. I could get away with distracting Charles only so long, and he was about to explode. I pointed for him to put the phone on speaker, as we moved off the sidewalk to a quieter spot in a drive between two commercial buildings.
“Have good and bad news, Mr. Fowler.” I had never gotten used to hearing Charles referred to by his last name. “Ms. Lee’s condition continues to improve.”
“Thank God. Can I see her?”
“That’s the bad news. The doctor told the officer who called he didn’t want any distractions for his patient, and was prohibiting anyone visiting until tomorrow.”
Charles gripped the phone so tight his knuckles turned white. He kicked the gravel drive. “If she’s better, why not?”
“Mr. Fowler, I’m sharing what I was told.”
“Then do something about it.”
“Sir.” Edelen’s voice became louder and unsympathetic. “I will call you when I have been given authorization for you to see the prisoner—umm, Ms. Lee.”
I leaned close to the phone and told the attorney who I was and thanked him for doing wh
at he could for Heather.
“Please reiterate to Mr. Fowler that I will call tomorrow.”
I did, and slid Charles phone in my pocket and put my arm around him. “That’s all the man can do.”
“I know, dammit.” Charles pushed my arm away and started toward the apartment.
He was several paces in front of me, when his phone rang again.
Charles stopped and pivoted. “That’s him calling back. We can see her today.”
In Charles’s parallel universe, it was possible. In the real world, it had only been a minute since we had talked to the attorney. The phone’s screen read Cindy.
“Why’s she calling me?” he asked as I handed him his phone.
He answered and a few seconds passed. Finally, he said, “Umm, yeah, here he is.” He thrust the phone in my hand.
“Why in the hell didn’t you answer your phone?” the chief asked.
I patted my pocket. Empty. “Sorry, must’ve left it in the room.”
“You’re getting so big for your britches you have Charles play secretary?”
“Cindy, I forgot the phone. Give it a rest.”
“It appears you’ve been smacked by a bad mood.”
“It’s been rough here. Please tell me you’re calling with news someone on the list was on Folly when Edwina was killed.”
“Sorry, the only good thing about all those calls was it gave me an excuse to stay in the room while Larry drools over new sawblade technology. I couldn’t find anyone who had knowledge of any of them staying in the Folly area. You know that doesn’t mean much; there are oodles of places to stay I couldn’t check, even if I had time.”
Charles knocked me off balance while leaning close to hear Cindy’s side of the conversation. I caught myself before falling and then a tour bus lumbered by and blocked her words from both of us, and filled the air with the rancid smell of burnt diesel fuel.
“Why did you call?”
“To tell you I just got off the phone with the detective on the case. After my pestering, he said Edwina’s death may be accidental, although there were some bruises on the body that were, per the ME, curious. Still there were no overt signs of violence, and her lungs had saltwater in them, meaning she was alive when she went under.”
