by Abigail Keam
“And clear that up for me again.”
Aspen looked at me like I was a dunce. “Art was the go-between. He was the one to actually approach young players and recruit them for parties on Lakewood Drive. Art was told when and he would make it happen. That way, those two men never got their hands dirty. Art brought young men to them.”
“Do you think that had anything to do with his getting killed?”
Aspen scratched his balding head. “I don’t know. I keep going over in my head who hated Art enough to strangle him, but I can’t come up with one name. Everyone liked Art. He was good to people. After that episode as a young man, Arthur turned into a straight arrow. There was not a dime that he had that wasn’t honest and he never took advantage of anyone’s naivety again. I’ll swear to that on the Bible.”
“Was he faithful to his wife? Do you think he might have had an affair?”
“Oh, hell no. I told you Art was a straight arrow. A regular church-goer.”
I didn’t think Aspen could tell me any more. He didn’t know about June and Mr. Arthur’s affair. He didn’t know his childhood friend, Arthur Greene, as well as he thought he did.
“Just one more thing. Did you kill Mr. Arthur?”
Aspen’s face turned red. “If you were a man, I’d knock you down. Now git and don’t come back.”
Since his hands were balled into fists at his side, I took his advice.
I know when I’m not wanted.
32
Doodling on my yellow legal pad, I couldn’t come up with a theory about Arthur Greene’s death. People murder for money, passion, and revenge. Arthur had been on the up-and-up for over 40 years when it came to money, so I ruled that out. So it had to be either sex or revenge.
Could Arthur’s wife, Lucinda, have found out about June? Could a woman in her sixties be so incensed about her husband’s affair that she would kill him? I knew she couldn’t have killed him herself, but Lucinda could have hired someone. This is not uncommon in the state of Kentucky.
Maybe Arthur had had a string of affairs and she finally just snapped. It was worth looking into.
I thought back to when I realized that my husband, Brannon, was having an affair with an acquaintance of mine. I had been mad enough to kill. I hated him for his betrayal and hated his girlfriend.
Hmmm. Was Lady Elsmere in danger? I made a note on the legal pad to discuss that issue with Charles. No use talking to June as she had only three subjects of discussion – jewels, horses, and the past. And those dinner parties!
Thinking again of Lucinda Greene, I would have to accidentally bump into her. As we knew each other just to say hello, I couldn’t very well call her up or drop by.
“This must be done delicately,” said the Wicked Witch of the West.
I snapped my fingers. I knew the way. June was a member of the Fayette Matrons Club, which was a meeting place for moneyed, aristocratic women with a southern viewpoint to meet and espouse their outdated views without being called bigots by the rest of the world. Lucinda ate there three times a week.
I called June and got her to make a reservation on my behalf. She wanted to come but I discouraged this. No matter how well behaved June was, there was bound to be tension between the two women after June had acted like a fool at Arthur's funeral. And I am sure that Lucinda would be brimming with questions. If she did not formerly know about Arthur and June’s close relationship she was now sure to be suspicious that something was up.
The reservation was made for Wednesday. It gave me a day to have my hair done, eyebrows waxed, and nails polished. After my makeover in Key West, I tried to keep up with my grooming since it pleased Matt so. Wearing a simple black dress with a heavy silver Navaho necklace, I entered an alleyway and knocked on a discreetly carved door. An African-American butler wearing white gloves opened it. I told him that I was Lady Elsmere’s guest for the day. He nodded and opened the door wider to let me enter.
The foyer was papered in yellow and white striped wallpaper from the late seventies and the painted white furniture was covered in yellow velour upholstery with some potted elephant ears in the corners. On the main wall behind a massive desk was a picture of Robert E. Lee in full Confederate uniform sitting on a white horse. On the opposite wall proudly hung a Confederate battle flag, dirty and black with soot and blood. It looked like the real thing.
The butler watching my expression just smiled.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Good benefits,” he whispered as he showed me to my table.
Apparently Lady Elsmere had clout as I was seated at a table near one of the few windows in the place. The candle on the table was lit and a vase with a fresh yellow rose was moved to the middle. My glass was filled with water and bread immediately brought by one of the many black staff that scurried to wait on their white patrons whom I studied out of the corner of my eyes.
All the women were white, middle-aged or older. All had that old-money look about them – shoulder-length or shorter hair in various shades of blond or silver-gray, expensive skirts or pantsuits in various shades of navy, beige or white, small gold earrings accompanied by family brooches. All wore expensive wristwatches. No cell phones on the table.
The chattering was low as many were eating by themselves. They didn’t look lonely. Maybe they came here to have a few moments by themselves, away from demanding husbands, clamorous charity boards, and irksome kids.
Speaking of food, my stomach growled. I glanced at the menu. As soon as I put it down, a waiter was by my side. I told him I wanted the salmon.
He asked if I wanted to wait for Lady Elsmere.
I lied and said that she had called saying that she couldn’t make it. He nodded and made for the kitchen.
Taking a sip of my water, I studied Lucinda Greene seated not too far from me. I gave her a few moments to settle in before I launched my attack. As she was looking in her purse, I limped over with my cane.
“Lucinda.” I acted surprised to see her.
“Josiah,” she responded. “How nice to see you.” Lucinda blinked several times.
“I didn’t get a chance to speak to you at the funeral.”
Lucinda interrupted. “Yes, that was quite a spectacle June put on.”
“Uhmmm, she had been taking a strong medication and I think it backfired on her – just at the most unfortunate time,” I responded, trying to cover up for June. “In fact, I was supposed to meet her here, but she called saying she didn’t feel well.”
Lucinda nodded.
“I mean she is very old. Eighty-eight, I think.” I paused for a moment, waiting for her to ask me to sit down but she didn’t, so I rambled on. “Anyway I wanted to express my condolences.”
She nodded again.
I winced as though my leg was hurting me. “I’ve got to sit down. This leg is killing me.” Hint. Hint.
Nothing. Lucinda just smiled at me in superficial sympathy.
“Perhaps you would like to join me, Lucinda, since June isn’t coming.”
I could tell she was about to decline, so I blurted out, “I so hate to eat alone.” I leaned on my cane looking pitiful.
Sighing, she threw down her napkin and reluctantly rose. “Of course. It would be a pleasure,” Lucinda lied.
A waiter immediately appeared out of nowhere and escorted Lucinda to my table, holding a chair out for her. Another waiter brought her purse and placed it in a vacant chair.
Happy at my success, I lit her cigarette, which she retrieved from a silver case. Apparently this club ignored the smoking ban in Lexington. She inhaled deeply.
No lung cancer fears for Lucinda. She laughed when she saw my questioning face.
“My one vice,” she quipped.
“Only one? You must be a saint.”
“I never could break the habit.”
An ashtray appeared immediately on the table. One thing about this place, it had great service.
“This is the first time I’ve eaten here.”
Lucinda took another drag. “It’s mostly old bags like myself with lots of money to throw around, but I like it,” she responded, smoke spilling out of her nose. “I come here to have some time to myself. The food is outstanding. No one hassles me. Cell phones are forbidden. It’s my little oasis.”
“Nice. Who owns it?”
“I do, honey child.” Lucinda removed a bit of tobacco from her bottom lip. “I bought it six years ago. I just wanted a place to go to. You know. Have a drink. Read the paper and have a nice lunch.”
I nodded.
“The place was a shambles when I bought it. You should have seen it.”
“I never see any advertisements.”
Lucinda gave me a look of horror. “We don’t need to. It’s a private club. Word of mouth only. In fact we have a waiting list.”
I noticed that I was never invited to join but I let that thought pass as our food was served. My pecan-crusted salmon on a bed of garlic mashed potatoes melted in my mouth. Lucinda had a small salad accompanied by vegetable rice dish. We dove in and didn’t come up for air for several minutes.
“How are you coping?” I asked between bites.
Lucinda’s face fell, giving her a deer in the headlights appearance. “Since you are a widow too, I know you understand. I still expect him to come through the door. This entire mess of Arthur’s death is dreadful. Just dreadful.”
“Any leads?”
“That’s the frustrating part. Everyone liked Arthur. He didn’t have any enemies.”
“What about kinfolk from the mountains or someone from his past.”
“How did you know that Arthur was from Eastern Kentucky?” She answered her own question. “Ah, June. She would have told you. She and Arthur were quite close, you know.”
“I didn’t know that. I just thought he gave her financial advice.”
Lucinda nodded. “He did that too. Arthur was good with money.” She waved her hand. “Look around. He gave financial advice to most of the women here.”
“How did Arthur make his money?” I asked innocently as I took another bite of my salmon.
“Arthur inherited it. His father was in coal.”
“Oh, really. Did you ever meet his family?”
“No. They were deceased by the time I met Arthur.”
“Ahh,” I responded knowing that Arthur’s father had worked in the coalmines as a miner. He had been dirt poor.
“For some reason I thought Arthur had a football scholarship to UK,” I mused.
Lucinda shook her head. “No, no. Arthur was on the football team for only one season before he hurt his knee, but his friend Aspen was on a scholarship.”
“I see.”
She sighed. “Josiah, may I confide something to you?”
“You can trust me.”
“I never understood what Arthur saw in Aspen. They were not of the same social or financial class, but those two were thick as thieves.”
“Aspen is hard to take in large dosages.”
“He is indeed, but he was at my house every holiday and any televised UK football game watching with Arthur.” She paused for a second. “But I must tell you that he as been good as gold since Arthur was killed. He seems really devastated.”
“Uh huh.”
“In fact, he offered to cut me in on Jean Harlow.”
“Did you take him up on it?”
“Oh, heavens no. I don’t want to spend time with Aspen and I don’t like going to the races. In fact, after this mess with Arthur is solved, I’m going to move to Palm Beach. I’ve had enough of Kentucky.”
“Lucinda, who do you think murdered Arthur?”
She blinked again. “I really don’t know. I really don’t. It’s a total mystery to me who killed that sweet man.”
“I don’t want to offend you, but maybe he had a sweetie on the side who wanted him dead or maybe he owed money to a shark.”
Lucinda laughed. “I can assure you that Arthur was as faithful as a man can be and as for a loan shark, well, our children and I will be well provided for. No, Josiah, it was a drifter or someone who was crazy. It was not one of our own who did this.”
I felt Lucinda was sincere. She loved her husband and thought him blameless in his own death. And she didn’t have a clue about June. Lucinda was a sharp woman, which told me that Arthur was very good at deception and manipulation. Yes. Arthur had many secrets. He was not the good egg everyone thought he was.
I quit asking questions. There was nothing more to find out. I mentally scratched Lucinda off my suspect list.
Suddenly I felt tears in my eyes. I felt very sorry for Lucinda Greene. I hoped no one ever told her the truth, but I knew it would all come out eventually. Then her kind vision of her husband would be trampled and this nice woman would be devastated for the rest of her life.
All men are bastards.
33
Are all men bastards? I really didn’t think so, at least, deep down. Just on the surface. Kindness and understanding is inherent in both sexes.
Take Franklin for instance.
I was writing down the information I had gleaned at this afternoon’s luncheon when Franklin appeared at my office door. I waved him in.
Still writing, I asked, “Well, Franklin, any invitations from the party?”
“Oodles,” he responded. “And I’m invited to Lady Elsmere’s house next Saturday for tea. I think I am her new BFF.”
“No doubt,” I replied, looking up from my notes. “You got what you wanted.”
“And you got what you wanted, missy.”
“What does that mean?” Fear shot through my heart.
Franklin laid a red hair with golden highlights on my notepad.
I said nothing.
“I found this in Matt’s shower.”
“So?”
“So – when did you sleep with Matt?”
“Don’t be insane, Franklin.”
“I know what I know. Don’t lie to me, Josiah.”
“What this means is that Matt washed off one of my hairs. He is around here all the time. It is very easy for one of my hairs to get on him.”
He pointed a finger at me. “There has always been tension between the two of you and now, all of a sudden the tension is gone. I know what I know.”
“Jumping Jehosaphat, Franklin,” I blustered, lowering my eyes. There was no way I was going to get out of this. I had to fess up. “It was my fault. I pushed the issue. I was beside myself, missing Jake. I just didn’t want to spend another night alone. It was a one-time thing only. Matt made that very clear.”
Franklin sighed with relief. “Since you two had your little tryst, Matt has been an absolute doll to me. I guess it’s the guilt. He is nothing but sweet like summer peach juice these past weeks. My life has been a joy, so I will forgive you.”
“I’m so sorry, Franklin. Really I am. It was a case of me being weak and Matt being kind.”
Franklin leaned over the desk to look me squarely in the eye. “I’ll hurt you, Josiah, if you try to take Matt away from me. I give you fair warning.”
I stared back. “I understand, Franklin.”
He leaned back. “So?”
“So what?”
“How was my boy?”
I answered truthfully. “He was the best. I expected no less.”
“That’s my boy. Home run every time,” Franklin boasted proudly. “And Josiah?”
“Yeah?”
“I know all about those other women Matt sees. They don’t mean a thing. I think Matt is trying to prove something to himself, but Matt will always be drawn to the gay lifestyle no matter how hard he may try to be heterosexual. He is essentially a gay man.”
“I know.”
“You’re something different though.”
“I know.”
“You understand me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“You’re feeling me?” he said, snapping his fingers.
“Yes sir.”
“We on the sam
e page?”
“Franklin. This is starting to wear me down.”
“Okay girlfriend. Just want to make sure there are no misunderstandings.”
“You must love Matt a lot.”
Franklin looked out the patio door. “Girlfriend, you have no idea how much I love that man. I would die for him.”
And Franklin almost did, but that would come much, much later.
34
I reviewed my list of suspects. They were dwindling fast.
Lucinda: Crossed her off.
Children: Crushed by daddy’s death.
Aspen: I didn’t think he had anything to do with it; besides he was too old.
June: Jealous. Could have hired someone but I didn’t think so.
Random serial killer: Unlikely.
Loan shark: Nope. Finances were in impeccable order.
Pissed-off client: Not a whisper of such a disgruntled person.
Football buddies: Why now after all these years? Besides they were ancient like Aspen.
The only blemish on Arthur’s life was 1962, and of course, June.
I was stumped.
I called Goetz and asked him about the case.
He hung up on me.
I called again and asked him out to dinner – no questions asked. I was desperate for company, even his. Goetz made me promise not to ask about the case. I was hoping he would let breadcrumbs of information fall sometime during dinner.
We met at Columbia’s, a steak house, that evening. I ordered the special and a baked potato with all the trimmings. Goetz ordered the same plus a couple of drinks for us. I hoped the booze would loosen his tongue.
“Goetz, you ever married?”
“Divorced. Lives in Charleston, South Carolina, alone. Her boyfriend ran out on her. I told her he was no good but she never listened to me.”
