by Curry, Edna
So, maybe only some were expensive, and those could have been the inherited ones—family heirlooms that she didn’t want to give up. That made sense.
I sat across from her and sipped the fragrant tea. “Delicious,” I told her, surprised that it was. The orange tang blended nicely with the herbs.
I noticed a laptop computer open to Amazon’s website on the far end of the counter. Apparently she’d been shopping on it when I arrived. Not many older women who made their living as maids used the internet. Curious.
“What about Agnes?” she prompted, sipping her own tea. “I hear she drowned when her car went into the lake. What a shame. She was only fifty-seven years old. Too young.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “How long did you work for her?”
“About ten years, now, I guess. I just came in twice a week, though. Cleaned and made some rolls and some casseroles for the freezer. She said she got tired of cooking for herself.”
“Were you close?” I asked.
“Not really. Didn’t even always see her. Lots of times she was out at some charity thing or other, working. She’d leave me a note by the coffeepot if she wanted me to do or make something special, otherwise I just did stuff on my regular schedule.”
“I see. What about guests? Did you cook for company, too?”
Millie shrugged. “She never had much company. Patti used to come weekends years ago, but she didn’t come very often after she got out of college and started working. Corey hardly came at all, usually for just a couple hours when he did. Agnes’ brother, Arnold Simms, used to drop in once in a while, but not in the last few years.”
I frowned. “Agnes had a brother?”
Millie looked at me in surprise. “Sure. Didn’t Patti mention him? Well, I suppose she hasn’t really seen him much. He took his father’s suicide real hard. Took off right after the funeral and sort of got lost, I guess. Agnes would hear from him once in a while. I brought in the mail sometimes, and there would be a letter from him. Agnes would take it to her office to read and not come back out for hours. I think they made her sad, ‘cause if I was still there when she came out again, her face would be puffy like she’d been crying.”
“Did she say why? Or ever talk to you about Arnold?”
Millie shook her head. “Back when I first started working for her, he came to visit a few times, though.”
“What does he look like?”
“Tall and blonde, like Agnes and Patti. But his hair had more brown in it, not as light, you know?”
“Yes.”
“He was sort of stocky, too. Not thin like Agnes. Course I haven’t seen him for years. Don’t know what he looks like now.”
“When did you last see him?”
She wrinkled her brow and sipped her tea. “Must be five or six years ago.”
“Do you know where he lives now?”
“No.”
“Do you know when she got the last letter from him?”
Again, she considered. “She could have gotten some since. But the last one I know for sure was just after Christmas last year.”
“Did he phone her that you know of?”
Millie shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that. Agnes always used her cell phone except for local charity stuff. She said she had to keep a land line so the local people could find her in the phone book. But for everything else, she used the internet or her cell phone. I offered to look up a number for her in the telephone book one time, but she said, ‘no thanks.’ She said she had lots of people’s phone numbers in her smart phone. That’s what she called it, her smart phone. I guess it was, too.”
I nodded. I’d seen the cable bill showing she used it for both TV and internet access. “I see. Thanks for the tea and your help, Millie. Here’s my card. If you think of anything else, will you call me?”
“Sure.” Millie looked puzzled and yet relieved. She set down her cup and rose with a smile to walk me to the door.
As I said goodbye and made my way back down the stairs to my car, I wondered what I’d missed asking her that she was relieved not to have to tell me.
***
I went back to my house and let Scamp out for a run. Then I went downstairs to my office and tried to catch up on my reports. I typed in what I’d learned from the grandparents, Jack and Millie, wondering how everything fit together.
I had several more emails from various clients wanting background checks. I spent an hour doing some work on those. That reminded me to do one on the principals in this case, as well as Jack, Millie, Corey and Arnold. I could never have too much information.
***
I phoned Patti.
“Any news?” Patti sounded anxious.
“Nothing important, no. Have you talked to the sheriff lately?”
“No,” Patti said.
“When’s the funeral?”
“Friday at eleven at the First Christian Church. We had to wait an extra day to give Arnold and Corey time to get here.”
“Yes, of course,” I said. “You didn’t tell me Agnes had a brother.”
“Didn’t I? Well, they haven’t been close for many years. Who told you about him?”
“I talked to Millie.”
“Oh. I haven’t seen or heard from Arnold in ages. I found a phone number for him in Agnes’ address book and called him. He said he’s been in California for a while now. He’s coming for the funeral. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
Tomorrow was Thursday. “And Corey?”
“He’s coming tomorrow, too. He’s kind of unpredictable, but said he’d be here.”
“I’d like to talk to both of them if possible.”
“Why? They couldn’t have had anything to do with this.”
I shrugged. “All the info I can get helps me figure out what happened. It’s like a puzzle—I need all the pieces to fit it all together to find the answer.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when they get here.”
Chapter 6
Marion called and asked me to join her for a hamburger at the bar. The little bar sits right on Main Street, with only a screen door separating it from the people walking by on the sidewalk. The sounds of a sports channel on the TV and loud laughter poured out, suggesting a fun time within. The hot aromas of French fries and onions met me as I stepped inside and paused, letting my eyes adjust to the dim interior.
She was waiting for me in a back booth, a scotch and water in her hand. When she spotted me, she grinned and waved at me and then beckoned to the waitress.
I wove my way between the tables. Some guys stood around a couple of girls seated at one of the tables, apparently trying to convince them to allow them to sit with them. One of the girls shoved a heavy-set guy away from her and into me, almost sending me flying. “Hey, watch it, bub,” I scolded him. The sour smell of stale beer and old sweat emanated from him.
“Shorry, missy. I didn’t sssseee you there.” Grabbing the back of a chair, he regained his footing and lurched back upright. The girl sent him another dirty look that he ignored.
I rolled my eyes and hurried on to slide into the booth opposite Marion.
Marion said, “Watch out for that guy. He’s been hitting the drinks pretty heavy the last few weeks. Gets mean when he drinks.”
“Oh? Who is he?”
“Joe Manders. Lives in a cabin out along the St. Croix River north of town.”
The waitress brought my usual screwdriver that Marion had ordered for me and said, “Your hamburgers will be ready in a minute.”
I turned so I could see Joe better. The bar had very dim lighting. Someone apparently thought that was cool. Or maybe they wanted to hide the fact that they hadn’t shampooed the carpet for months and the spilled beer and liquor in it had accumulated a lot of dust. The whole joint could use some fresh air and a good cleaning. “Manders? Any relation to Millie who was Agnes’ part-time maid?”
Marion nodded. “Her ex-husband. They split a few years back. That was when he started hitting the bottle.”
“I see. So what does he do now?”
“Just odd jobs, I think. Occasionally some construction jobs. Picks up a lot of aluminum cans along the road ditches and the river and cashes them in at the recycling center.”
“Hmm. I went to see Millie the other day. She has a lot of expensive things in her apartment. Wonder where she got the money to buy them? Did she get a big divorce settlement?”
“I doubt it,” Marion said. “The way I heard it, they’d been having money problems for a while before the divorce. That was when Millie started taking housekeeping jobs.”
Hmm. Millie’s housekeeping jobs must pay pretty well. The waitress brought our burgers and an order of onion rings to share. I dug in, savoring the delicious comfort food. “I’m going to have to go for a run later to work off these extra calories,” I said with a groan.
Marion grinned. “It’s worth it. Besides, we’re usually so good at lunch, eating salads most days.”
“You should talk. You never gain a pound.”
“Neither do you. You just think you do.”
As I glanced up, Patti came in the door with Rolly Billings. He had his arm around her waist in a familiar fashion and she was turned toward him, laughing. “Hey, are those two dating?”
“Who, Rolly and Agnes’ niece, what’s her name?” Marion asked with a frown.
“Yes. Patti Jones.”
Marion looked at me in surprise. “How do you know her? Oh, right, she’s the reason you were looking for Agnes.”
I nodded. “Rolly’s firm was originally Agnes’ dad’s partnership. And Rolly did work for Agnes. But this doesn’t look like a business meeting.”
Patti and Rolly had taken a booth and were giving the waitress an order. She wrote something on her pad and hurried back to the kitchen.
Patti and Rolly had their heads together, whispering and giggling. “I wonder if they dated before, like maybe in her college days, when she spent weekends with Agnes?”
“I don’t know,” Marion said. “Maybe.”
“If not, they sure got acquainted fast. She’s only been in town a few days.”
“I saw them together at the Lagoon Restaurant last night, too. I’ve heard Rolly is something of a ladies’ man. And Patti is lovely.”
“True. No reason they shouldn’t date,” I said. “I’m just surprised she’d think about dating when her aunt just died. She seemed so upset when she couldn’t find her.”
***
I went back to my office and spent the evening catching up on my other work. I always seem to have several projects going at once and can’t afford to drop everything to take care of just one, even if it is a murder case.
After a couple hours, I decided to snoop in Agnes’ emails to see if Patti had mentioned Rolly to her. I felt a bit like a voyeur, reading a dead person’s emails, but knew it was necessary if I was going to find out the truth of her relationships to others. If I could figure out who hated her, maybe I’d also know who’d killed her.
Two hours later I knew very little more than before about anyone who might be called an enemy.
Agnes belonged to a book club and garden club. She had an appointment to have an oil change on Thursday. Most of her emails were about scheduling her volunteer time for charity functions, or about various business meetings, including several banks and Rolly Billings. Was he still her lawyer?
Some emails sounded like it, others didn’t. She always asked how his father, Harold, was doing and Rolly’s replies were polite and to the point. She apparently kept money in several different banks and handled some accounts online. I accessed a couple and they had hefty balances. I wondered who would inherit that money. Was it the motive for the murder? Who knew Agnes’ business?
Her emails were always polite, even cordial. No hint of any conflicts. Certainly none heated enough to lead to murder.
I went through all the last emails Agnes had sent. None of them were the ones to the women in Landers, cancelling her appointments. What the heck? How could that be? Had she sent them from another computer? Or maybe her smart phone?
I went online to her web mail. Yes, I was right. The messages to the women were there. They’d evidently been sent from her phone. So that confirmed she’d not planned to be in Landers over the weekend or most of the week. Was that because she planned to spend that time with Patti, as Patti claimed? Or had she had other plans?
***
The next morning, I decided to visit Harold Billings. Yes, I knew he was supposed to be getting senile, but from what I’d seen of him at Chamber meetings, I thought people might be exaggerating his condition.
I deliberately waited until Rolly would be at his office before going to see Harold at their house. As I pulled into the blacktopped driveway in front of their large brick rambler, I saw Jack Kent’s old Ford pickup parked in front of the double garage doors. Obviously, he did work for more than one person in town. He came around the house on a riding lawnmower, paying no attention to me. As I went to the door and rang the bell, he swung the mower around and disappeared again, making his next round.
A tall, muscular man in brown slacks and a yellow tee shirt answered the bell.
“Good morning,” I said. “I’m Lacey Summers. I’d like to talk to Harold, please.”
“I’m Geoffrey, his nurse and personal assistant,” the man said. “I’m not sure Harold is up to answering questions, ma’am.”
“I talked to him at the Chamber dinner the other evening and he seemed fine then,” I said.
“Yes, ma’am. But he has good days and bad ones. He doesn’t always make much sense.”
“Who is it, Geoffrey? Let her in!” Harold called, stepping into the living area behind him. His white hair stood up in tousled spikes and he wore a gray flannel jumpsuit and slippers. He didn’t look at all like the successful lawyer I knew he’d been just a few years ago. Or the dapper senior citizen he’d seemed at the Chamber dinner the other night. Clothes sure did make a difference.
“That’s quite all right,” I said. “I’d like to talk to him anyway, for just a few minutes, please.”
“Come on in,” Harold called.
Geoffrey hesitated, and finally stepped back, allowing me inside.
“I know you. Saw you at the dinner the other night.” Harold said. He shook my hand and waved me to a seat in a large brown leather sofa and settled into the matching reclining chair.
“Is the sun out? I like sunny days. Had too much rain lately. I don’t like rainy days. Have to stay inside too much. Boring.”
“Yes, the sun’s out and it’s nice and warm outside. Maybe Geoffrey will take you for a walk later.”
“Hear that, Geoffrey? She thinks it’s okay for me to go outside too. I’m sick of staying indoors.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course we can go for a walk if you want. Later.” He turned to me and in a barely polite tone asked, “Would you like some tea, ma’am?”
“Only if Harold does,” I said, looking to the older man for his opinion.
“Don’t want tea. Coffee, black. And put some Irish whiskey in mine.”
“Yes, sir. Ma’am?”
I grinned. “Just black coffee for me, please.”
Geoffrey grunted and disappeared to the kitchen.
“Damned jailer Rolly hired for me,” Harold said, looking after the nurse. “Won’t let me have any fun any more. Rolly won’t even let me come into the office anymore, either. Thinks he’s the boss, now.” Tears ran down Harold’s wrinkled cheeks. He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped his rheumy eyes.
A large black lab appeared from the hallway behind us, apparently leading to bedrooms. She laid her head on Harold’s lap and looked up at him as though to comfort him. Harold smiled and patted the dog’s head. “How ya doin,’ Lady? This here’s my best friend, Lady.”
“I’m sure she’s a good companion for you,” I said.
“Sure is. Do you know my son, Rolly?”
“Yes, I’ve met him a few
times at Chamber meetings,” I said. “Do you remember Agnes Simms?”
“Sure. Roscoe and Henrietta’s girl. One of our best clients. She’s real nice. Her brother’s a real stinker, though. I don’t like him, much.”
“I see. You heard that Agnes is dead?” I wondered whether anyone had bothered to tell him.
“No, not Agnes. Roscoe.”
“Agnes, too, Harold. Just this week.”
“Oh, really? Roscoe’s dead too, you know. Hung himself. I never could understand why he wanted to go and do that. Sure messed up our partnership. I had to close down the firm after that. Couldn’t do it all alone.”
“You were partners in the city?”
He stared off in space, seeming not to hear me. I repeated the question, and finally he turned back to me. “What city?”
“Where you were partners with Roscoe.”
“Oh. Yeah. Minneapolis. Too much traffic there. Too many crooks. Hard to know who you were dealing with. I hated living there.”
“So you moved out here?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Nicer out here. Know most of our clients by name. Not as much money though. But I liked it better. Rolly wants to move back to Minneapolis. I told him over my dead body.” He cackled at that little joke.
Geoffrey appeared with a tray and put it on the coffee table between us and handed each of us a cup.
I sipped my coffee. Harold sipped his, too and made a face. “You didn’t put enough whiskey in here to hardly even taste it,” he grumbled.
“Whiskey’s not good for you. Doctor’s orders, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?”
Lady stood and barked. Harold said, “Yeah. Take Lady for a walk.”
Geoffrey frowned as though to refuse, but Harold glared at him and he obeyed.
I hid a smile. Apparently there was a bit of a master/slave battle going on between them.
The loud noise of the lawnmower echoed through the room as Geoffrey opened the door and disappeared with Lady.
I sipped my coffee and eyed Harold. Why had he sent Geoffrey away? Did he want to tell me something he didn’t want Geoffrey to hear? Or was I reading something sinister into an old man’s whim?
