Botched 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  Chapter 3

  The parking lot looked like a tailgate party gone wrong. Small clusters of people gathered all over the place, making it impossible for anyone to get into a vehicle and drive out of there. I heard shouting, grumbling, and swearing. It was awful. Frankly, I’d seen movies depicting lynch mobs that were less intimidating.

  “If we skirt around the blue Chevy, we’ve got a beeline to the other side of the building,” I said. “I don’t think the crowd’s made it there.”

  “Good thing you knew about that parking area. Geez, I’ve never seen anything like this. Talk about hitting a nerve. Do you think that Sorrel woman knew how badly her proposal would be received?”

  “From what little I know, I don’t think she cares. Worse yet, according to Herb, Sorrel Harlan will do anything in her power to get it passed.”

  Just then someone shouted, “Vote no confidence! Vote that witch off the board!”

  “Can they do that?” I asked. “Vote someone off the board?”

  Marshall gave me a quick look as we hurried to the car. “I’m not sure. I have no idea what the bylaws say. I know people can vote no confidence for a board, but usually those things take petitions and at least two-thirds of the signatures from all parties in the association. I read about that recently regarding a homeowners association in Phoenix. But Sun City West isn’t an HOA, it’s a municipality.”

  “I can only imagine the conversations tonight at the Homey Hut and Curley’s. Not to mention what Bagels ’N More is going to be like during the breakfast hour tomorrow. Glad I’ll be at work and miles away from my mother.”

  “When did they say the board would be voting on the proposal? It was hard to hear with everyone talking under their breath.”

  “Next month, I believe. You don’t suppose it will really pass, do you? My gosh, I can’t fathom what that would do to the real estate market around here. Do you think Sorrel Harlan has some sort of ulterior motive in this?”

  “Hard to say. Is she in the real estate business?”

  I shook my head. “No. My mother told me Sorrel and her husband owned a boutique publishing company back east, but he gave that up when he accepted a position as a university librarian.”

  “Boutique? I thought that was reserved for clothing and gift shops.”

  “It’s a fancy word for specialized and small. They published poetry books, photography, art, and political perspectives.”

  “How’d your mother find out all of this? Wait! Wait! I shouldn’t ask. For a second I forgot who I was talking about. I should know by now that Harriet Plunkett has more connections than the chairpersons for the Democratic and Republican Committees combined.”

  “Got that right, but she heard it from Lucinda Espinoza. Sorrel Harlan and Lucinda were in the same chair-yoga class a few years ago. Seems Sorrel gets very passionate about certain things and goes full steam ahead.”

  “Going full steam ahead with this crowd might not be the best move. Do you hear them? We’ve almost rounded the corner, and the noise isn’t dying down. Come on, the car’s only a few yards away.”

  Marshall was right. Either someone was getting that crowd pumped up, or it only seemed loud because everything else was so quiet around there.

  “Take the first driveway on your left,” I said. “That way I can see what’s going on.”

  I looked over Marshall’s shoulder and into the front parking lot. Judging from the size of the crowd, very few people had stayed in the social hall to listen to the discussion about paint colors. “From what I can see, it doesn’t look as if anything volatile is going on. I guess the voices are just loud. I’ll tell you one thing, though. I sure wouldn’t want to be in Sorrel’s shoes.”

  “She kind of brought that on herself, don’t you think?”

  “Uh-huh,” I mumbled. “Still, all of this is really unnerving. Especially for Sun City West. I mean, I don’t usually think of this place as a political hotbed or anything, but that lady literally poked a hornet’s nest.”

  * * *

  By the time Marshall and I left Sun City West and arrived at the small family pizzeria in Surprise, I was starving.

  “This is really embarrassing,” I said. “Seems every time we come here, I eat as if I haven’t seen food in decades.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty damn hungry, too.”

  We finished a medium mushroom and sausage pie plus a small order of hot wings before calling it a night. With work the next day, I had to settle for a cozy kiss in the car before heading into my house.

  Marshall gave me another quick kiss. “Want me to walk you to your door?”

  “That’s okay, Sir Galahad. It’s five steps from the curb. I think I’ll be safe. See you in the morning.”

  I couldn’t believe it was after ten when I walked in the door. It felt great to slip into my comfy sweats and watch the late night news before setting the alarm clock and turning in. I reached for my cell phone on the nightstand and checked my email messages so as not to miss anything earthshattering. Two were from retail stores and were promptly deleted. The third was from my daughter, Kalese, who is a teacher in St. Cloud. She’d attached a photo of her fourth grade class during their talent show. The message read: “Remember the one I was in? It took weeks to get the glitter out of my hair. Miss you, Mom. Hugs and kisses.”

  Yup, I remembered all right. Some of that glitter is still trapped in the floorboards of our old house. I emailed back: “Love and miss you, too. I’ll give you a call this week. Nana Harriet is driving me crazy, as usual.”

  Nana Harriet and the rest of her cronies. I tried not to think about the conversations that were probably still going on at Curley’s and the Homey Hut. I was certain that, by now, news of Sorrel Harlan’s proposal was spilling out into the greater Phoenix community.

  * * *

  “Good morning, everyone!” I called as I walked into the office the next day.

  “It’s only me,” was Augusta’s reply. “I just got in a minute or two ago myself. Haven’t even had a chance to add water to the Keurig.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I’m right here.”

  No sooner did I finish pouring the water into the machine’s reservoir when Marshall and Nate walked in.

  “Heard you had a fun night at your mother’s rec center meeting.” Nate winked. “Marshall and I had a real early breakfast to go over a case we’re dealing with in North Phoenix.”

  “It’s always a fun time at one of my mother’s events.” I pushed the ON button to the coffeemaker.

  Augusta cleared her throat and muttered something about her definition of fun being wildly different from mine. As Nate and Marshall headed into Nate’s office, I waited for the machine to give me the “heads-up” blue light. At the first flash, I proceeded to make myself a cup of one of the leftover holiday flavors we had purchased back in December. That done, I went into my office, booted up the computer, and started to review some spreadsheets. Augusta was fielding phone calls in the front office, and it seemed as if the phone was ringing every few minutes. At a little past ten, the phone rang into my office, and I heard Augusta shouting, “You’d better take this one, Phee.”

  I picked up the receiver tentatively, only to hear my mother’s voice.

  “Drop what you’re doing and drive over to the bocce courts. They’re right next to the dog park. Bring Nate or Marshall. Better yet, bring them both.”

  “Whoa. Slow down. What’s going on?”

  “What’s going on? What’s going on? Myrna just called. Hysterical. She thinks she killed someone.”

  “What?” I could hardly control the volume of my voice.

  “You heard me. She said she thinks she might have killed someone. A runaway bocce ball or something. It was hard to understand her with all that crying and gasping for breath. Look, I’m in the car now. I should be at the bocce courts in a few minutes. Hurry up.”

  Before I could say a word, my mother ended the call. I got up, said something to Augusta, and
knocked on Nate’s door. The second he said “come in,” I proceeded to tell him and Marshall about the call.

  “Want me to reschedule the ten-thirty?” Marshall asked, looking at Nate.

  “Nah, I’ll take this one.” Then he turned to me. “Come on, you can tell me all about it in the car. I’ve got a light morning, unlike your buddy over here. I’ll let Augusta know what’s happening on our way out.”

  “Call me if you need me,” Marshall said as Nate and I left the office.

  Nate’s car was parked on the street a few yards away. We drove to Sun City West in record time.

  “It sounds like an accident to me,” I said, “especially since all I’ve heard is how badly Myrna tosses those bocce balls. According to one of the men on her team, she practically lofts them into the air like weapons. Maybe she managed to hit someone in the head.”

  Nate made some sort of a tsk sound. “I doubt it. Not a runaway bocce ball. Even one Myrna lofted into the air. Yeah, sure, they seem heavy, but they would have to be hurled at such a high speed to do real damage. I mean, it’s not like slamming a baseball with a bat and watching that thing fly across a stadium. I’ll bet anything the cause of death was completely unrelated to Myrna’s lack of skill on the bocce court. Anyway, it sounds as if she’ll feel better knowing you’re there to support her.”

  “You, too,” I said.

  “I’m just along for the ride, kiddo.”

  When Nate pulled into the large recreation center parking lot, it was impossible not to see the emergency response vehicles and a sheriff ’s deputy car. I was about to say something about an ambulance when I noticed another vehicle. I all but choked on my words.

  “Uh-oh. This isn’t good. That’s the county coroner’s van over there. My God, Myrna did kill someone.”

  “Hold your horses. Someone would have to put a lot of strength into throwing a bocce ball hard enough to kill someone.”

  “Myrna’s pretty strong,” I said. “Everyone says so.”

  We got out of Nate’s car and walked toward the emergency vehicles. A fairly large crowd was gathered by the bocce court benches. I immediately spotted my mother and Myrna seated at the far end of one of the benches. My mother must have called Shirley and Lucinda because they were there as well.

  Off to the side, speaking with one of the deputies, was Bill Sanders. He waved us over as soon as he saw us.

  “I’ll go see what’s going on over there,” Nate said. “You’d better head over to your mother.”

  I nodded and made a beeline to the benches.

  My mother got up and motioned for me to sit next to Myrna. “Phee! You made it! Thank goodness. Where are the men?”

  “Nate’s talking with Bill, and Marshall had a meeting with a client.” I tapped Myrna on the arm and spoke softly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  After blowing her nose and wiping away some tears, Myrna gave me the full account of the incident.

  “The bocce team got here at nine for practice. We’re in the tournament, you know. We need to practice.”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh. Go on.”

  “When it was my first turn, I tossed the ball, and I must have tossed it really hard because it bounced off the edge of the court and rolled into the golf course over there.”

  Myrna pointed to the Hillcrest Golf Course that bordered the bocce courts. “Bill said not to worry about it, that he’d get the ball later. We had extra ones, blue and red. My next toss was better, and I got close to the opponent’s ball on the court.”

  If I could have rolled my eyes, I would have. “Keep going, Myrna. You’re doing fine.”

  “Anyway, I wasn’t so lucky with my next toss. That time it hit a bench and flew right over into the golf course. The team wasn’t happy about it, and someone said if I kept it up we’d be out of balls.”

  “Okay, then what?”

  Myrna blew her nose again. “My next toss was good and everything seemed to be fine. Then, when it came time for me to go again, I don’t know what happened. All I remember is the ball hit the pole by the awning over the side benches and went flying into the golf course. By then, everyone was really mad. Bill decided to go over to the golf course and get the balls that wound up there.”

  I looked at the golf course and saw there was a chain link fence around it. “Um, er, how’d he get in? Don’t tell me he climbed the fence?”

  “Oh, no. The fence has an opening a few yards away. People go under it all the time when their dogs get off the leashes and they have to retrieve them.”

  Suddenly my mother blurted out, “That happened to Betsy and her little dog, Howard-Elizabeth. Betsy had to practically crawl under the fence to get him.”

  “Mom! Please!” I shouted. “Let Myrna continue.” I gave Myrna a quick squeeze on the arm and a quick nod.

  She took a slow breath. “Anyway, Bill went to the golf course, and, the next thing I knew, he was shouting, ‘We got a dead body over here! Face down in the brush. Right next to the blue bocce ball.’ And that’s when I knew it. I killed someone. Hit them with a bocce ball and killed them. Oh my God!”

  I glanced at the emergency vehicles. Nate was talking with one of the sheriff ’s deputies.

  “It looks like they’re loading the deceased into the coroner’s van,” I said.

  Lucinda lifted her head up and gave a nod. Her once-blond, now mostly gray hair blew around her face. “I’m surprised they haven’t sent someone from the sheriff’s department over here to talk to you, Myrna.”

  “You mean arrest me,” Myrna replied.

  Lucinda answered as if they were talking about the latest movie or book they’d read. “Well, that too.”

  My mother put her arm around Myrna and tried to console her. “I don’t think it would be murder. I mean, it wasn’t as if you planned on killing anyone. Isn’t that right, Phee?”

  “Um, er . . . why don’t we wait until someone comes over here?”

  “Manslaughter! That’s what they’ll charge her with. Manslaughter! It’s always manslaughter on those TV shows, but I’m not sure if it would be voluntary or involuntary. I get that part confused,” Lucinda said.

  Shirley handed Myrna a handful of tissues and reached into her pocketbook, pulling out a business card. “Lordy, Myrna. This is tragic. Take this card. It’s my lawyer, Colton Rainburn. I don’t know if he handles criminal cases. I just used him to draw up my trust.”

  At the sound of the words “lawyer” and “criminal,” Myrna started to hyperventilate and Lucinda darted to another bench and rushed back.

  “Here! Breathe into this paper bag from McDonald’s. Someone left it on one of the benches. It doesn’t look too greasy.”

  “Throw that disgusting thing out,” my mother said. “You don’t know where it’s been.”

  Myrna took one look at the bag and miraculously started breathing normally again. “How many years behind bars do people get for manslaughter?”

  “Five to ten is what they give them on those TV dramas,” Lucinda said.

  “My God. Five to ten years. Bill’s always said I was going to wind up killing someone the way I toss those bocce balls. He was right. And he wasn’t the only one. Other people on my team have said the same thing.”

  “They were just exaggerating, that’s all,” I said.

  Lucinda was unable to let it go at that. “My mother’s Aunt Philomena was once cleaning the bathroom floor by her toilet and leaned over to squeeze water from her cleaning cloth when all of a sudden the toilet seat came down on her head. Got a concussion and died later that night. Those heavy bocce balls must weigh as much as a toilet seat, I’d venture.”

  Myrna started sobbing again, and my mother gave Lucinda one of those “cut it out” nudges. Behind us, Nate was still talking with the sheriff’s deputy. The coroner’s van headed out of the parking lot, followed by the emergency crews.

  “Nate should be here any second,” I said as Myrna’s sobs got louder. I didn’t think I could stand another minute waiting with t
he “doom and gloom” crew. “I’m going to walk over there and see what’s going on. And, for goodness’ sake, stop jumping to conclusions.”

  Chapter 4

  I all but collided with Bill as he headed to the bench where Myrna and the book club ladies were seated. Nate was still talking with the sheriff’s deputy. Only the bocce team remained in that vicinity, standing within earshot of my boss. I figured Bill had heard all he wanted to hear from the team and was on his way to share the latest tidbit with my mother’s friends.

  “Guess one stiff in the theater wasn’t enough last fall,” Bill said. “Now we got one face down in the muck by the golf course. And that’s not all.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Myrna’s beside herself thinking her ball might have been the cause of death. Is that what you’re about to tell me?”

  “Nah. Gets better than that. I saw that blue bocce ball of Myrna’s next to the body, but that wasn’t all I saw. There was an arrow sticking up right in the middle of the person’s neck. An arrow, for cryin’ out loud. What the heck? This isn’t the Wild West anymore.”

  It took a second for his words to register. “An arrow? Like bow and arrow?”

  “Yeah, what other kind is there? Look, all I know is what I saw, and I didn’t stick around to get a closer look. The body was face down, but I’m pretty sure it was a woman. Either that or a guy with lousy taste in clothes.”

  “Oh, how horrible. How on earth can something like that happen, and, more importantly, Myrna needs to know about it at once. Take a look over there. She’s one step away from a breakdown.”

  No sooner did I finish saying that when Nate approached us. If Myrna was off the hook, she’d need to hear it right away. Before hiring a lawyer, sight unseen.

  “Nate,” I said, “Myrna’s convinced it was her bocce ball that killed someone.”

  “Hardly. More than likely it rolled onto the golf course after bouncing around. Besides, there was other, more compelling evidence.”

  “I’ll say,” Bill said. “Looks like Geronimo’s back in town.”