I told Rex about the letter and suggested that he read it.
A few seconds later, he sighed. "That's all I need. For someone to give you the credibility of calling you a detective and invite you to solve their murder."
I wasn't quite sure how to take that. "At least I wouldn't be interfering with one of your investigations."
"That's true," he said a bit too cheerfully.
Then I told him about Kelly's plan to take the girls there. Tomorrow.
Kelly interrupted. "I've got Inez, Ava, one of the Kaitlyns, Betty, and Lauren. The others all have plans."
"That's only half the troop," I said.
"It'll be easier to manage five." She waved me off.
I got up to pay the bill. "I'd better get home and pack. Let me know when we are going."
"Roger," Kelly said with a smile. "Relax. This will be fun."
"Did you hear that, honey?" I asked Rex. "Kelly says this will be fun."
My husband laughed and hung up.
CHAPTER THREE
The next day at two in the afternoon, with Kelly and five ten-year-olds who had been loudly singing camp songs for four hours, we pulled up to a sign that read Behold Behold! Home of the World's Largest Human Tooth! It actually read World's Largest Tooth, but someone had added a caret and hand printed the word Human. As if that made it better.
"Wow!" Ava squealed from the back seat for the one thousandth time since she had gotten in the car that morning. "The world's largest human tooth!"
"We're going to see that, right, Mrs. Wrath?" Lauren asked.
I didn't correct her. Since kindergarten, when we formed this troop, the girls had called me Mrs. Wrath—getting half my name right. Their argument was that any woman over the age of thirty was old and old women were married. In a way it kind of made sense.
Now that I really was a Mrs., but with Ferguson, it didn't seem worth fixing. Trying to correct little girls was a lot like teaching your cat to flamenco dance while learning Swahili. With exactly the same results.
"Let's just get downtown and find someplace to eat before I meet with the lawyer," I suggested and drove on.
The town was right on the Mississippi River with a wall of bluffs on the northern border. From another sign, we learned that it had a population of 947. It looked like it. I grew up in a town of more than five thousand, but there were small towns like this one peppering the countryside.
This place was more like a ghost town. The buildings were weather-beaten and faded, as if it had been abandoned fifty years ago. Main Street consisted of eight dingy, peeling buildings, including the lawyer's office, a diner, a convenience store, a post office, a hair stylist, and three feed stores.
We pulled up to the diner and got out to stretch our legs. An Open sign hung from a nail over the door of Fancy Nancy's Home Cooking. It looked anything but fancy as the paint hung down to the sidewalk in strips.
"Should we find someplace else to eat?" Kelly bit her lip.
"We're starving!" Betty complained before walking through the door.
I was hungry too. "You heard her." I turned and followed the girl inside.
To our surprise, the place was spotless and bright, with a black-and-white checked tile floor and tablecloths. The delectable scent of fried chicken filled the air, and my stomach responded with a loud rumble.
"Hello there!" A late-middle-aged woman with a purple beehive hairdo walked toward us. "I'm Nancy! Come on in! You poor things look hungry!"
She ushered us to a table for seven, and we sat as she plunked down cups of ice water and fresh-off-the-printer paper menus.
"The lunch rush is over, but I've still got some of the best fried chicken in the state back in the kitchen. If you don't want that, I can fix up something else!"
A happy woman who wanted to feed me? I liked her already.
We all opted for the fried chicken, although I wondered how she was going to accommodate five little girls' requests for two drumsticks each. Was she going to have to cook five chickens, or did they have some weird ten-footed chickens in the back?
"Murl!" she shouted in a deep voice that made me jump. "Ten legs and two breasts!"
I assumed she meant the chicken.
"So where are you ladies from?" Nancy beamed.
"Who's There." Betty studied the woman. "Why do you have the world's largest tooth…"
"Human tooth," Inez corrected.
"Right." Betty nodded. "Why do you have that here, and where is it?"
Nancy ruffled the girl's hair, and I got ready to snatch the child back should she attack. You never knew with Betty. I had an unusual troop of very curious girls that included, among others, four Kaitlyn M.s (whom I couldn't tell apart) and Betty, a girl who practically qualified for the CIA already. The girl was all business and mostly interested in doing things she wasn't supposed to.
"Well." Nancy tapped her chin with her pencil. "Tubby Thorkelson had one bucktooth instead of two, and it was one whole inch long. When he died, the dentist over in Dubuque—" She scrunched up her nose in disgust on the last word. "That dentist pulled the tooth and sent it over to our mayor. Turns out Tubby left it to the town in his will."
"That's cool." Betty considered this. "I'm going to do that when I die. Only I'm leaving my spleen to the Who's There Historical Society."
Lauren, a tall, quirky kid who was usually Betty's partner in crime, spoke up, "Why to the Historical Society?"
Betty seemed surprised her bestie would ask. "Because important things are historical."
Ava, who was very ambitious and wanted to be CEO of a major insurance company someday, asked, "Why would your spleen be historical or important?"
Betty leaned in. "Because of what I'll do with my spleen." She leaned back. "You'll see."
Inez, one of the smartest girls in the troop, ignored all of them and asked Nancy, "Why did he leave the town his giant tooth?"
Nancy responded, "It was never specified. Some think he did it for revenge…you know, from being teased about it and all." She looked around the empty dining room and then leaned closer. "Some think it has to do with the aliens." Nancy leaned back. "But most of us think he just wanted to give us something to put us on the map."
Before Betty could ask about the aliens, I asked, "Why would a giant tooth put you on the map?"
Nancy waved me off. "It wouldn't. We'd already had our brush with fame. You see, Behold was the first place in Iowa visited by Europeans."
Ava frowned. "We learned in class that it was Dubuque."
Nancy narrowed her eyes at the girl. Her sunny disposition went to stormy in a moment. "No. It was us. That's why the town was named Behold. To tell the world to Behold Iowa. But those bastards in Dubuque jumped in and claimed it. They got the bridge and all the glory."
She did that thing again, scrunching up her nose when she mentioned the other town.
Suddenly, her mood lifted, and she was back in high spirits. "Anyhoo, that's the story!"
"You didn't tell us where the tooth is," Kaitlyn said.
I was caught off guard. Sure, I'd heard each of the Kaitlyns talk before, but they seemed to like blending into this homogenous mass, and they all sounded the same in addition to looking like quadruplets. Having just one of them on this trip would be interesting.
Nancy patted the girl on the head. "I forgot you asked! It's in the post office."
A man's voice grumbled something unintelligible from the back.
"Right! Coming!" Nancy hollered. "I'll be right back. And with that, she left us.
"Aliens?" Lauren asked. "Can we see them after the tooth?"
I looked at Kelly. I kind of wanted to know the answer to that myself.
"We can see the tooth," she sighed. "We can do it while Mrs. Ferguson is in her meeting with the lawyer."
"Hey!" I protested. "I want to see the tooth too!"
Kelly shook her head. "Maybe later. You have to find out about the spider house you inherited and about the possible murder of its owner. Then w
e need to head to the Scout camp and check in."
Five little faces turned to me, mouths open. To be fair, there was a lot to process with Kelly's statement. It would probably be better to wait to mention the ghost camp with its Indian burial mounds.
"Murder!" Betty smacked her fist into her palm. "I knew it! That's why we're here! Where do we start?"
"Maybe at the spider house?" Lauren asked.
Ava folded her arms over her chest. "Someone else died around you?"
"Of course not!" Kaitlyn leaped to my defense. "They died here."
"Thank you," I said.
Kaitlyn continued, "Of course, Mrs. Wrath had something to do with it."
I choked on my water. "Um, no. Actually, I didn't."
Inez asked, "Who died?"
"Aunt June," I replied. "But she's not an aunt. That's her first name…"
Betty cut me off. "Because her last name is June, right?"
"How did you know that?" I asked.
She shrugged. "It totally makes sense."
The other four girls agreed.
"And she left Mrs. Wrath a note." Betty pulled the note from her pocket. "I just haven't read it yet."
"How did you get that?" I snatched it away. Sure enough, it was the letter Aunt June had written.
The little girl looked at me as if I was an idiot. "I have my ways."
"You broke into my house, didn't you?" I pocketed the letter.
Kelly interrupted as the food arrived. "Let's eat, and then Mrs. Wrath can go meet the lawyer and we can see the giant tooth."
"You're calling me Mrs. Wrath now?" I asked, my mouth watering over the chicken breast with mashed potatoes and gravy that was set before me.
"It just seems easier that way." Kelly dismissed my question and dug in.
It really was the best fried chicken in the state—tender and juicy with a light, seasoned breading. The seven of us oohed and moaned while we ate. I toyed with ordering seconds, but the clock on the wall told me I'd run out of time.
"Pay the bill," I told Kelly. "I'll text when I'm done with Nigel Hickenlooper."
"Nigel?" Kaitlyn asked.
"Hickenlooper?" Inez added.
The five girls exploded into a fit of giggles. I was out the door before I had to explain that too.
The very next building, on the same side of the street, was slightly less disheveled and had a huge sign that read Hickenlooper, Hickenlooper & Hickenlooper. This was the place. I opened the door and walked inside.
It was like walking through a portal into another dimension. Real wood-paneled walls framed the plush white carpet that felt more like walking on a cloud. A set of white leather chairs with stainless steel frames surrounded a table laden with Town &Country magazines. At the far end of the wall was a huge mahogany desk, and behind that desk was a very pretty young woman wearing a very expensive tailored dress.
"Mrs. Ferguson?" she purred in honeyed tones.
"Yes." My eyes wandered to the original art on the walls. Good Lord! Was that a Picasso?
"My name is Emmy. Please have a seat." The woman stood and indicated a leather-bound chair. "Can I get you any tea, coffee, or artesian water?"
"No thanks." I settled in one of the white chairs. It was deceptively comfortable. "Is that classical music?" I pointed toward the ceiling even though I had no idea where the music was coming from.
"Yes, of course," the receptionist said. "If you will excuse me, I'll let Mr. Hickenlooper know you are here."
She vanished down the hallway.
What was with this town? The outsides of the buildings implied they'd been abandoned for decades. But inside they were posh, clean, and fabulous. Was it some sort of thing to spend a fortune on the insides but not so much as scrape the peeling paint off the outsides? It's almost as if the town wanted to dissuade anyone from stopping by.
"Mrs. Ferguson." A short, forty-something man in a bespoke suit stood before me, arm outstretched. "I hope your travels were not too uncomfortable." His posh British accent made me feel welcome and stupid all at the same time.
I got to my feet and shook his hand. "It was fine. Thanks." I looked down at my T-shirt and shorts and felt severely underdressed.
"This way, please." Hickenlooper turned and walked down the hall.
I fell in behind him, staring at the endless framed award certificates that covered the wall on my right. How could he win all of these awards in a town this small? Beside the diplomas from the University of Iowa and American Bar Association citations were seven Small Town Mayor of the Year awards and a painting of a large, colorful Victorian home that couldn't possibly exist within ten miles of this shabby village.
"After you." The lawyer stopped and motioned for me to go inside. "Please take a seat."
I did so while studying him. Clean-shaven with brown hair, he was younger than I'd thought from his voice on the phone. He looked like he belonged in a bank in London, not here.
"Mr. Hickenlooper." I paused, waiting for him to ask me to call him Nigel. He didn't. I went on. "I have to ask. What are you doing here in Behold?"
The man sat back in his chair, considering me. His blank face told me nothing. He would've been an excellent spy.
"My father moved here in the 1950s. Both of my parents are deceased and buried here. My brothers and I decided to stay."
"Ah, the second and third Hickenloopers," I said, thinking of the sign out front.
He shook his head. "No, I'm the only one."
"But your firm is called…" I started.
He finished, "Yes, I know. There are three Hickenloopers. I'll admit I took a few liberties with the name. It seemed more professional that way. But they're all simply me."
"What do your brothers do?" I looked around, even though I knew they weren't there.
He looked as if he was bored by the question. "You'll see them around, I am sure. Now can we get to the matter at hand?"
I clapped my hands together. "Okay. Why don't you start at the beginning?"
Nigel looked confused. "The beginning? I'm afraid I don't understand. Why wouldn't I start at the beginning? I'll never understand you Americans."
"But you're an American. It's just a…" Words failed me. He was born and grew up here, even with the accent. Wasn't he technically an American too? "Never mind. Fill me in on Aunt June."
Hickenlooper opened the only folder on his desk, took out a piece of paper, and slid it toward me. I took it and read.
"It says I inherit her house." That was all that was on the page. It literally said The house, the land, and everything in and on it goes to Mrs. Merry Czrygy Ferguson of Who's There, Iowa.
"That is correct," Nigel said. "The house and all of its contents now belong to you."
"All of its contents? Does that mean the spider collection too?"
He nodded solemnly. "All of the furniture, tchotchkes, etcetera."
I repeated, "What about the spiders?"
"Ah. About that." Nigel was quiet for a moment before proceeding. "Ms. June had a very dangerous collection. And they weren't all spiders." He handed me another sheet of paper from the file.
The sheet was an inventory of potential death and destruction, bug-sized.
"There's a funnel spider from Australia," Nigel went on to say. "A black widow and brown recluse from the US, of course."
"Of course." I nodded as if I wasn't panicking inside.
"A deathstalker scorpion, an assassin caterpillar, and a golden poison dart frog."
I studied the images on the sheet of paper. "It says that a single golden frog's secretions has enough poison to kill 1,500 people!"
"Yes. That would take out the whole town and then some," Nigel said.
Had Aunt June been thinking of taking out Behold? "Why did she have this collection?"
Nigel shrugged. "No one knows." He started to hand me another piece of paper, but I waved him away.
"Never mind." I cut to the chase. "How do I donate all of this…stuff? Is there a zoo or museum that wou
ld take them?"
He took the pieces of paper back, put them in the folder, and closed it. "Yes, well, I'm working on that."
"Thank you," I sighed. That was a relief.
"Aunt June wanted to make your inheritance contingent upon the forever upkeep of these creatures but in the end decided it might make you turn down the house and property."
I was planning on selling the house as soon as I could but decided not to tell him that for the time being. "Mr. Hickenlooper, Aunt June gave me a letter with her remains."
He nodded. "Yes. She wants you to find out who murdered her."
So he'd read the letter. "Do you think she was murdered?"
Nigel sighed. "She succumbed to one of the venomous creatures in her collection."
I guess that made sense. "What did the autopsy say?"
The man looked me in the eyes. "There was no autopsy. Aunt June wanted to be cremated as soon as possible."
No autopsy? That seemed unusual, unless she had been very old and they decided it was natural causes.
"Was there an attending doctor?" I asked. "Who signed the death certificate?"
"That would be Dr. Morgan." Nigel wrote a number on a piece of paper and handed it to me. "His office is across the street in Morgan Seed and Feed. You can't miss it."
Why did he write it down if it was across the street and I couldn't miss it?
I took it all in. "Why would she insist on my solving her murder if she wasn't murdered?"
Nigel rolled his eyes very poshly. "The woman was a bit barmy. Barking mad. Perhaps she wanted a little excitement."
"She's dead. How would she have any excitement?"
"Exactly." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a key ring with one key on it. "Here you go. The house is the large brown and blue Victorian at the end of the street. If you have any questions, please call me. I believe you have my number."
"The house in the painting in the hall?" I turned to look through the doorway.
"Yes," he said. "It's the most expensive house in town. Is there anything else? As you can see, I am quite busy at the moment."
I looked around and thought of the empty reception area before getting to my feet and shaking his hand. "Thank you. I'll be in touch."
Mad Money Murder Page 2
