by J. C. Eaton
“Is that true, Nate? An arrow in the neck?”
My boss glared at Bill and pointed to the sheriff’s deputy who had made his way to the bench where the ladies were seated. “I imagine the deputy’s going to clarify what he can so that the rumor mill doesn’t explode. Of course, you know as well as I do, the call is up to the medical examiner. Still, I don’t think Myrna has anything to worry about. Well, not the bocce ball anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Should Myrna be worried about something else?” I didn’t take my gaze off of Nate.
He groaned and took a breath. “Myrna and half the social hall from that rec center meeting the other night. That includes you, too, Bill.”
“Me? What the heck are you talking about?”
Nate lowered his voice, forcing us to move in closer. “Look, from what I’ve heard from my partner, who attended that meeting, lots of irate folks spoke out against converting the golf courses to eco-friendly parks. And I imagine you might have been one of them. Anyway, some of those comments got real up close and personal, to the point of becoming threats against the board member whose idea it was.”
“So what?” Bill asked. “Big deal. What’s that got to do with someone who bit the dust with an arrow through the neck?”
Nate’s voice was barely a whisper. “Because that someone, according to the ID the sheriff found, was Sorrel Harlan.”
I let out a gasp and looked at the spot where the body had been. Sorrel’s body, to be exact. “My God, this is a nightmare. I’ve got to let my mother and her friends know.”
I was already running toward the women with Bill at my heels when Nate shouted, “Wait! Both of you!”
He caught up to us quickly. “Listen, I probably shouldn’t have offered up that information, but one of the sheriff’s deputies shouted her name as soon as they found the ID. I’m sure a few bystanders heard it loud and clear. Still, we shouldn’t breathe a word until the next of kin is notified. Okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll keep my trap shut, but it’ll probably be all over tonight’s news anyway,” Bill said as the three of us walked over to the benches.
The sheriff ’s deputy was writing notes on a pad, and I figured he was taking down contact information. “Guess that about sums it up, ladies,” he said as we approached. “If we need more information, we’ll contact you.”
Myrna had stopped crying, but she still looked pretty shaken up. “I’m not getting arrested. Not yet.”
I pulled Nate aside and whispered, “Shouldn’t we at least tell her about the arrow? She’ll be a nervous wreck all night.”
As it turned out, we didn’t have to, thanks to Bill. “Damn. Looks like the archery club isn’t going to be holding any contests any time soon.”
He went on to explain that he had seen an arrow in the victim’s neck, and, in his opinion, that was what killed the person. At least he didn’t mention who it was. Not to the book club ladies anyway. He looked at his watch and shrugged. “Our court time is up. If you can pull yourself together, Myrna, we’ll be practicing again tomorrow at nine. But I understand if it’s too much for you . . . under the circumstances. We can always find a replacement.”
I swore his voice sounded almost too optimistic when he mentioned finding a replacement.
Fortunately, Myrna was oblivious. “I won’t let anyone down. I’ll be here tomorrow.”
Bill muttered something about a midmorning card game and took off.
“So, was that true about the arrow in the neck?” my mother asked Nate. “The only thing that deputy told us was the death was under investigation. A moron could have figured out that much. So? Tell me. Was it an arrow or not?”
I knew Nate didn’t want to reveal details of an impending investigation to a group of ladies whose greatest pastime was rumor mongering, but he didn’t have much choice. Not after Bill opened the proverbial can of worms.
“Yeah. Bill was telling the truth. The body was found face down with an arrow to the neck. That’s all I know, and I shouldn’t even be sharing that much. Understand? The only reason I’m doing so is because I don’t want Myrna to well, um, you know, go off the deep end, so to speak.”
My mother looked at Myrna, who was dabbing her eyes with a rolled-up tissue, and then turned to Nate. “There’s more, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling us. Does the sheriff think a maniac is loose? Do I need to install an alarm system for my house? Streetman can’t be expected to do everything. He’s only a Chiweenie. What do you think?”
I don’t know how my boss managed to remain calm during that kind of confrontation, but he did. He put his hand on my mother’s shoulder and talked to her as if he was negotiating with a terrorist to release a hostage.
“It’s okay, Harriet. You don’t have anything to worry about in that regard. No maniacs. No need to install expensive security unless, of course, that makes you feel safer. Right now, it’s an isolated incident, and, once the sheriff ’s department completes its investigation, I’m sure the community will learn more. Meantime, the best thing you and your friends can do is go back home, or, better yet, go get a cup of coffee someplace and calm down. Phee and I have to head back to the office, but if you need us, call.”
At the mere mention of the word “coffee,” my mother suddenly switched gears and orchestrated an impromptu brunch at Bagels ’N More. Even Myrna seemed to cheer up.
“I’ll call Cecilia and Louise,” Lucinda said. “They can give the snowbirds a holler, too. We can all meet there.”
I took my mother aside and reiterated that under no circumstances should she mention anything about a dead body with an arrow. “You know how these things get out of hand. Besides, the main thing is Myrna doesn’t have to worry.”
“So much you know. What if it was Myrna’s bocce ball that hit them, and then once the person keeled over, someone got them with an arrow?”
“On the ground? Face down on the ground? Who shoots an arrow at a body that’s lying face down on the ground? Stop with the craziness and enjoy your coffee. I’ll call you tonight,” I said.
“Call me the minute you hear anything. I know those sheriff’s deputies talk to Nate. Once he knows something, tell me. You hear?”
“Of course.”
I waited until Nate and I were within a few feet of the car before I spoke. Last thing I needed was for my mother to overhear us. “Holy cow! What are they going to do when they find out it was Sorrel Harlan with the arrow in her neck? It’ll be a disaster.”
“Got that right. I wished I could have told them, but the next of kin have to be notified first. I’m afraid that’ll happen sooner than later, and it will be all over the news tonight. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about Sorrel, would you?”
“Only Herb’s rantings and what I heard firsthand with Marshall at the meeting. But it wouldn’t be too hard to pull up info on her. When she was appointed to the rec board to replace Edmund Wooster, they did a write-up about her in the local Sun City West paper. I’ll have Augusta dig it up.”
“I don’t know if I hired a bookkeeper, or another detective.”
“Don’t even mention the D word. I’ll give Augusta a call as soon as I get in the car.”
“Good. Have her order us some sandwiches from the deli. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
I couldn’t believe I had been handling the accounts for Williams Investigations for over a year. In spite of being spitting distance from my mother’s house, I really relished working for Nate. The real boon came when he convinced another Mankato detective, Marshall Gregory, to partner up with him. For years I’d had a secret crush on Marshall, not realizing he felt the same way about me. We began to date shortly after one of the actors was found dead on a catwalk following a theater rehearsal for a play my mother and her book club ladies were participating in. Who knew a murder investigation could bring us together? I beamed just thinking about Marshall.
By the time Nate and I arrived back at the office, not only did Augusta have
two printed copies of the article ready for us, but she had also researched some miscellaneous information that was mentioned in the article. It seemed Sorrel had worked for human services in Middletown, Connecticut, where her husband, Milquist, was a university librarian at Wesleyan. No children and no mention of relatives. Augusta also learned Sorrel was active with all sorts of ecology and environmental causes, while Milquist kept a low profile.
“Her husband sounds as dry as toast.” Augusta handed us each the paper. “And she doesn’t sound a whole lot better. The only thing I could dredge up about them was their membership in the Sun City West Cribbage Club.”
Nate glanced at Augusta’s information sheet and shrugged. “Her former membership. Her body was the one that was found near the bocce courts. Honestly, I always pictured retirement communities as insulated safe havens for card playing and golf, but Sun City West is beginning to sound more like Cabot Cove with a murder a week.”
“And the worst thing is, my mother’s book club seems to be embroiled in all of them,” I said. “Maybe this time the sheriff’s department will be able to solve it before those ladies have a collective meltdown.”
Nate’s gaze moved from me to Augusta. “I may be going out on a limb, but I don’t think so. I have this nagging feeling our office is going to be asked to consult on the case. Hopefully by the sheriff ’s department and not Phee’s mother. Maricopa County is a huge jurisdiction, and those deputies are spread pretty thin. And as for the posse, well, they’re volunteers who handle routine matters, not murder investigations. So, I guess I’ll really need to familiarize myself with Sorrel and Milquist Harlan.”
Augusta grinned. “Who names a kid Milquist? What kind of name is that?”
I couldn’t help but giggle. “One that goes with Sorrel, I guess.”
Just then, the delivery boy from the deli around the corner walked in with sandwiches, and Nate paid him. “Don’t get out your purses. It’s my treat. I’ll put one of the ham and cheese in our office fridge in case Marshall didn’t get a chance to eat.”
The three of us thanked him as we sat around the small table in the workroom. Fortunately, we were done before the phone started ringing. I was back at my desk trying to pick up where I’d left off with the billing, but all I could think about was an arrow to the neck. It seemed a bizarre way to commit murder, and, yet, too out of place for some sort of accident. Especially one on the edge of a golf course and not an archery range.
Marshall was out of the office most of the day, and by the time he ate the sandwich, it was close to five. “I’ll call you later tonight.” He waved as I headed to the door. “I’m dying to know the details about this morning.” Then a sheepish look came over him and he quickly added, “And I just want to hear your voice.”
* * *
When my phone rang around seven, I hoped it would be Marshall. It wasn’t. It was my mother.
“The local news just ended and they still haven’t announced whose dead body it was. Come on, Phee. You must know something.”
“Look, if they haven’t released the information, it’s for a good reason. Maybe it will be on the ten o’clock news.”
“That means I have to watch the same thing all over again. It’s like a never-ending loop of information.”
“Then you can wait until tomorrow.”
“And miss something? Don’t be ridiculous. By the way, I called Myrna and she’s doing considerably better. She said she plans to be at bocce practice in the morning.”
“That’s good, I suppose. Although, I’m not so sure the other people on her team feel the same way. Is that tournament such a big deal?”
“Oh yeah. In fact, we had to change our February book club meeting to the week before since so many people plan on attending that three-day event. Thank goodness we’re reading a nice cozy mystery by Mary Marks instead of one of those godforsaken tomes your aunt Ina insists we tackle. And speaking of which, she and Louis are taking a Valentine staycation at some fancy hotel in Fountain Hills.”
“That’s nice. At least she married someone who pampers her,” I said.
“He probably has no choice.”
“Um, anyway, I’ve got a few things to do around here, so I’ll talk to you later this week, okay?”
“Call me the minute you hear anything. I mean it.”
I muttered something and ended the call before she had a chance to nag. When the phone rang again, I was certain it was Marshall, but instead, it was my friend Lyndy, whose aunt happened to live in Sun City West.
“You must have heard the news,” she said. “Someone was found face down on one of the golf courses, shot with an arrow.”
When I told her about my involvement with the situation, she didn’t seem all that surprised. She probably figured it came with the territory since I worked for a private investigator. What surprised me, though, was how much she knew about the murder.
“My aunt has been going on and on about this all day. She was going to the miniature golf course with some friend of hers when they noticed all the emergency vehicles by the bocce courts and golf course. Naturally, she had to worm her way over there to see what was going on. They were a good distance away but apparently close enough to hear one of the sheriff’s deputies shouting ‘We got an ID. It’s a Sorrel Harlan.’ Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Because she was the newest appointee to the rec center board and wanted to convert some golf courses into eco-friendly parks,” I said.
“Yeesh. That’s probably what got her killed. And now that you mention it, I think I remember reading something about that idea in one of the papers.”
“I wish the sheriff ’s department would make an official announcement already. My mother’s been plaguing me to tell her who the victim was.”
“Think your office is going to be drawn into the case?”
“Drawn, roped, coerced. Yeah, whatever you call it, I have a feeling I’m going to learn a lot more about bows and arrows than I ever thought possible.”
Chapter 5
Thankfully the last call of the evening was Marshall’s, and I drifted off to a great night’s sleep shortly after. It was the ringing of the phone at six in the morning that ended my restful night.
“Phee!” My mother’s voice all but scratched my eardrums. “It’s on the news right now. Sorrel Harlan. That’s whose body it was. Sorrel Harlan from the rec center board. Good grief. Those sheriff’s deputies will have to question the entire community. Everyone had a motive. Do you think they’ll be knocking on our doors because we attended the meeting? Attendees had to sign their names on the sign-in sheet. That’s practically a confession.”
“Whoa. Slow down. No one confessed to anything. And yes, I’m sure lots of people were furious with her for suggesting converting those golf courses, but—”
“But what? Face it, it’s plenty motive for murder. Oh my gosh. Myrna spoke up against that golf course plan. Loudly.”
“Relax,” I said. “So did Herb. And the Hawaiian shirt guy. And a few other people. Besides, Myrna was tossing bocce balls, not shooting a bow and arrow.”
I thought I could detect a strange whining sound from my mother’s end of the line.
“Can’t talk now. Streetman needs to go out. Or maybe he wants a treat. We’ll talk later.”
My mother had adopted Streetman, a small, long-haired Chiweenie, when his previous owner went into assisted living. The dog, although adorable, came with a laundry list of behavioral issues my mother referred to as “idiosyncrasies.”
“Um, well . . .”
“I can’t keep Streetman waiting. Bye, honey.”
If ever I felt like kissing that little dog, it was at that very moment. Wide awake, I took a quick shower, made myself a cup of coffee, and toasted a frozen bagel. Now that the entire Sun City West community knew who the victim was, it was only a matter of time for full-blown panic to set in. I imagined most people would have the same reaction my mother did—petrified of being accused due to their
verbal protests over Sorrel’s proposal.
I decided to get into the office a bit earlier than usual in case the worst possible scenario turned out to be true and Nate was asked to consult on the investigation. He’d be picking my brain as well since I had a definite in with certain members of the community.
I arrived at Williams Investigations a good hour or so before we opened and immediately set up the Keurig for coffee. Arriving early gave me plenty of time to work on the accounting spreadsheets without interruption.
Marshall arrived at twenty to nine and he, too, was pretty convinced we’d be on the case. “There had to be at least three hundred people at that meeting. And most of them were adamant about not converting the golf courses. I know the sheriff’s department is going to take that attendance list and start contacting people, after they speak with Sorrel’s husband and any close family or friends they can contact. The sheer numbers are overwhelming. Bowman and Ranston, the two deputies from that theater murder case, must be going nuts with all those folks.”
“What about the golfers on the course at the time? Do you know if they were contacted?”
Marshall pressed the lid down on the coffeemaker. “According to Nate, they sent the golf marshals out to see if the players on the course had noticed anything unusual. If one of those golf bags had an archery bow in it, the marshals would have seen it. They also checked the names on the tee-time lists.”
“Couldn’t someone from one of the houses have stepped out onto their patio and shot an arrow from there?”
“Highly doubtful, unless they were using a crossbow, and, from what I know, that wasn’t the case. In the conversation Nate had with the sheriff’s deputy on the scene, the arrow appeared to be a standard archery arrow. If the sheriff ’s department does call us to confer, they’ll provide more info.”
No sooner did he finish speaking when Augusta walked in. “Good morning! Guess what I did last night?”
If it was anyone else asking an open-ended question like that, I would have kept my mouth shut. But by now, I knew Augusta well enough to figure she was going to tell us she’d cooked some sort of pioneer dinner or made a shawl out of animal pelts.
