Mad Money Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  The girls moved on, and I heard them squealing with glee. They'd found the golden poison frog.

  "He's adorable!" Ava gushed.

  A tiny yellow frog with big brown eyes hopped over to the glass and looked at the girls.

  "How can something that cute be a killer?" Kaitlyn asked.

  Lauren punched something up on her cell. "Oooh! Its scientific name is terribilis! I like that."

  "What else?" Betty pressed her nose against the glass, fogging it up.

  "Whoa!" Lauren's eyes widened. "The frog carries enough toxin at any one time to kill ten to twenty humans!"

  The girls seemed stunned.

  "You mean we can't cuddle it?" Kaitlyn seemed disappointed.

  "Touching it is what kills you." Lauren squinted at the frog. "How can something so tiny and so cute kill so many people?"

  Kelly stayed with the girls as I walked around the floor. It was one large, open area with the tanks embedded in the walls. There wasn't a bathroom. No rugs or furniture. If there were other clues, they weren't here.

  "Let's head downstairs," I suggested. "I know you did this while I was gone, but I want to go over the second floor again. I don't think there are any clues up here but them." I waved at the displays.

  The word clue seemed to send an electric current through the air, and the girls raced down the stairs, landing in a group on the second floor. Good thing too, because the third floor really gave me the willies.

  The second floor was perfectly normal, with a master bed and bath, three guest rooms with bathrooms, and a dressing room adjacent to the master bedroom. I did a quick walk-through. Each bedroom had one queen-size bed. You could sleep a lot of people in this house.

  Unlike the rest of the house, the bedrooms were kind of bland, with white walls, hardwood floors, and beds with simple headboards and chenille bedspreads. And they were as neat as a pin. Each room had a wardrobe, nightstand, and dresser. There were no closets. How strange.

  "I think we need to split up," Ava suggested. "Kaitlyn, Inez, and I can take two guest rooms. Betty and Lauren can take the other guest room and master bedroom. You and Mrs. Albers can search the sitting rooms."

  "That sounds pretty good," I agreed. "You know what you're looking for?"

  Betty raised her hand. "Dead bodies, weapons covered with blood, and clues."

  "Right. But I think you're more likely to find envelopes with my name on them than the rest of the stuff."

  Kelly added, "And don't make a mess, please. This is Mrs. Wrath's house now. We don't want to trash it."

  The girls went their own ways, and Kelly and I took the dressing and sitting rooms. They were, like the others, white rooms with simple furnishings.

  "These rooms are so generic," Kelly said as she knelt down to look under a rocking chair. "Why don't they have the same personality as the first floor?"

  "I don't know." I spun a floor-length mirror in its frame so that I could search the back. "There are no pictures on the walls, no personal touches. And how many visitors did she have? Basil said, as far as he knew, no one local had ever been in her house."

  Kelly went through the drawers of a vanity table. "You said she was thinking of selling the property to become a river resort. Maybe she meant for the house to be that resort? The bland rooms would make sense in that case."

  "That's a good point. It is strange that Nigel and the council would fight that. Tourists would bring big bucks here."

  "Do you think the council did her in for that?" Kelly manipulated the drapes.

  I stopped and looked out the window. "We sure do have a lot of suspects. The three suitors, jealous Nancy, and now the mayor and town council."

  "This is going to be hard," Kelly said. "We'd have to be here a week to talk to all of those people."

  I thought about this. "I've talked to Nigel, the mayor. Hal, who's on the town council, Dr. Morgan, who may be one of the suitors and sits on the town council, and Sheriff Carnack."

  "That leaves the postmaster," Kelly said. "He's a potential suspect as one of the suitors, right?"

  "I need to talk to him anyway about what he saw here when she was found. Maybe he's a suitor too?"

  Kelly dropped the drapes. "Where do we go from here?"

  "We need the other clues. Didn't Aunt June say there were three or four? I need to talk to the coroner, postmaster, and I'd like to visit the funeral home."

  "Don't forget about Nancy," Kelly said. "We haven't gotten much out of her."

  I smiled at my co-leader. "Now you're talking like a detective."

  "When we get back to the cabin, we need to set up a murder board," Kelly mused. "There's a huge pad of paper on an easel. And markers."

  "You're in charge of that." I glanced around the room. "Let's tackle the sitting room."

  That particular room had huge windows that looked out over the river. Two sets of white wingback chairs, angled toward each other, faced the windows. A small fireplace was against the outer wall with a loveseat in front of it. A bookshelf filled with paperbacks was against the other wall with a reading chair and lamp.

  "This is where all the guests could sit and look out," Kelly said. "I can see this as a resort now."

  "It's not a very big one," I mumbled. "More like a bed and breakfast."

  "Merry," Kelly said. "If she wanted to sell it to be a B&B or hotel or something, why leave it to you?"

  I was getting the gist. "And why not include that in the instructions? That's a good point."

  I kept coming back to the consensus of the town that Aunt June was eccentric. It was the only thing that made sense. It was as if she flitted from one idea to another. In the end, it was just about sending me the ashes and Nigel handing me the keys.

  A shout came from across the hall. "Mrs. Wrath!"

  Kelly and I raced into the master bedroom, where Kaitlyn was triumphantly waving an envelope. "It has your name on it!"

  Betty got there first, snatched the envelope from Kaitlyn, and held it to her forehead. "I see something about an ostrich!"

  I took the sealed envelope from her and tore it open.

  "Nice job, Kaitlyn!" I read the first line.

  Congratulations, Merry! You found Clue #2!

  "What else does it say?" Inez prodded.

  "It says Don't stick your head in the sand."

  We all turned to Betty. Now how did she know that?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "I'll give you this one as a freebie." Betty put the note back into the envelope. "You can see the writing through the paper."

  She was right. To be honest, I was a little let down that it had been so easy.

  "That's all it said?" Kelly asked. "No offence to Aunt June and all, but 'I can feel it in my bones' and 'don't stick your head in the sand'? It does seem a little crazy."

  We broke for lunch. Kelly had made a picnic, and we took it to the backyard. I spread out a huge blanket on the lawn, and we munched on sandwiches and juice boxes. The girls hadn't found anything else in their search of the second floor, and we were still one or two clues out.

  What did it mean? Had the woman been vague on purpose, just to get a laugh thinking of me tearing through the house? Or did it mean something? Spies used code language. Why hadn't Riley called? I texted him to ask what he'd found out. He sent back the number zero.

  Looking around at the large property, I could see this becoming a small tourist hotspot. Maybe the Girl Scouts could do tours of the Indian burial mounds and run the high ropes course in the off-season. I'd come and relax here.

  Was I chasing something that never happened? If so, it didn't feel like a wild-goose chase because it was fun doing this with Kelly and the girls. I got to spend more time with them. And they were getting older. They'd be in fifth grade soon.

  Where had the time gone? Those tiny five-year-olds we'd first taken on were smart, savvy ten-year-olds now. No, if this was a farce, it was still an adventure. And I was lucky enough to be along for the ride.

  We spent two
hours after lunch going through the first and second floors again but didn't find a single clue. The girls were dragging, and Kelly suggested we head back to camp for a nap. To our complete shock, every girl agreed.

  "We need to take advantage of this before they change their minds," Kelly said as we got back into the van.

  I looked at the girls through the rearview mirror. We hadn't done that much today. Why did I get the feeling that they were storing up their reserves to sneak out at night? Oh well. Why question it? I had errands to run. It was time to go see the coroner.

  After dropping Kelly off at the lodge, I called Jared at the sheriff's office, and he gave me the phone number for Coroner Pete. Was that his last name too? Aunt June's last name was June. Maybe it was a cultural thing in this area. I began tapping in the number as I pulled away.

  "Thanks for seeing me, um, Coroner Pete." I shook his hand and sat down at his dining room table. "Is Pete your last name? Like Aunt June?"

  "He laughed. No, folks are very informal here. The name's Oroner. Pete Oroner. But you can still call me Pete." The man smiled. "Now I hear you want to know about Aunt June."

  Coroner Oroner was a typical Iowan—straight to the point. Coroner Oroner. Yeesh!

  Peter Oroner looked like any other man in his sixties. Average height. Average weight. Average haircut. If I had to pick him out of a lineup in twenty minutes, I wasn't sure I could. The man would literally blend in with any crowd. He would've made a great spy.

  "How long have you been coroner, Mr.…" I hesitated, only because it felt silly saying coroner and Oroner in the same sentence.

  He held up a hand. "Like I said. Call me Pete. Please."

  I gave him my warmest smile. "Only if you'll call me Merry."

  The man returned the smile. "Well, Merry, I've been elected county coroner in every election for the past thirty-two years."

  "You've been coroner for more than three decades?"

  I guess that wasn't too unusual. It was probably difficult to find someone in rural areas to want this job.

  "That's right," he replied.

  Elected coroners, I knew, did not have to have any medical background at all. Which was why a medical examiner was preferred. Or the coroner would hire a deputy coroner to handle all things medical. It was extremely rare these days to have someone in this office who didn't have medical expertise.

  "Do you have a medical background, Pete?" I asked.

  "I do." He got up and walked over to a sideboard, returning with a framed diploma from something called ABC Medical Tech Institute.

  I stared at the document. "You have a degree as a dental transcriptionist?"

  "Yes, that's right," he answered.

  "An associate's degree…to type up the dentist's notes," I clarified.

  He nodded as if that made perfect sense. "Exactly."

  Pete handed me a campaign flyer from 2010. Pete Oroner for Coroner! The Name Says It All!

  Oh. My. God. "You've based your campaign on the fact that the job is the same as your name?"

  He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. I was afraid I might have. "It takes a little more than being a dental transcriptionist, of course."

  I asked the next most logical question. "So you have a deputy coroner with a real medical background, then?"

  "Nope." He rocked back in his chair. "Never saw a need for it myself."

  "Pete, with no background in anatomy or forensics, how are you able to do your job?" I couldn't help asking. The investigation had given way to curiosity now.

  He rubbed his chin. "Well, I watch a lot of forensics shows on TV."

  I tried to process this intel without yelling at the man. Soo Jin, our medical examiner back home, would've been rendered speechless. She was a doctor and a pathologist and had all the qualifications necessary to do her job. Add to that the fact that I was getting angry that the manner of Aunt June's death had been dismissed by this complete rube. But, I didn't want to alienate him like I had the sheriff, and I really needed to see that file.

  "Okay, good enough for me," I lied.

  Pete grinned. "You get it! A lot of folks don't. But you see, this isn't such a dangerous county. We haven't had a murder here in all the years I've been coroner."

  How many murders had taken place in this county, only to have Pete mislabel them as accidents? Oh sure, I knew that the truth was often stranger than fiction. We'd had all kinds of strange things happen back home that were thought to be murders but were actually accidents, including a story of a woman killed by her own llama…on accident. But to label each and every death as an accident, when the odds were that some were murders, was dangerous.

  Maybe I'd come back here with Soo Jin some day and look into Pete's record. But right now, I needed answers.

  "That's wonderful!" I mustered up the enthusiasm to match the words. "It's sad that people don't understand that."

  Pete nodded and walked over to the same sideboard, pulling a file that he slapped down on the table. It was labelled Aunt June. My worthless sucking up might be rewarded after all.

  "You see…" He opened it. "Some people might look at this and think there was some foul play."

  He was pointing to a close-up of two tiny fang marks. "Now most people wouldn't see those on her neck like that. It took a fine eye and razor-sharp mind to see that, know that she had spiders, and put two and two together."

  Pete sat back in his chair. His expression was complete smugness. He wasn't concerned that any normal person would think it odd that he had an AA in dentistry transcription. In his mind, he was a forensic genius.

  But for the moment, I needed to look at that file. "That's so fascinating! I've always been interested in stuff like this."

  Talking about yourself as if you are a low-grade idiot was a unique talent as a spy. It was difficult for most agents to put themselves down. Self-importance and a substantial ego were the traits of most people who went into the CIA.

  I, however, could make myself look absolutely clueless when I needed to. The bad guys don't often confess to someone smart, but they can't hold back bragging about their genius if they think you're ignorant. You wouldn't believe how far a little flattery goes when the person you're complimenting thinks you aren't very smart. I once conned a Saudi Prince out of a Fabergé egg filled with microfiche because I giggled and clapped and said it was pretty.

  Pete droned on. "It is interesting work. But in this case, it was pretty cut and dry. There were no other marks on the body but these, and there was a squashed brown recluse right next to her. Any genius could figure it out."

  "Astounding." I gaped—more for the fact he thought he was a genius than for what he'd said. "Where was the body found?"

  "First floor in the main hallway, a few feet from the front door," Pete answered my question without hesitation. "I estimated that she'd been dead for about ten hours before she was discovered."

  "From the rigor mortis?" I winced inwardly. I was clueless, remember? "That's what they always say on those shows."

  The man patted my hand. "Of course. You're just an amateur, but you're not wrong. By the way, I'm afraid I should've said earlier that I'm sorry for your loss."

  "Thank you." I was torn. Did I tip my hand and say the same to him? Or would that scare him off? I definitely wanted to milk the sympathy angle, so I didn't tell him I knew nothing about her. "Did you know her?"

  "I did, in fact. She and I were old friends." He winked.

  An idea flashed through my mind. "She said in her last letter that she was sort of seeing someone."

  Pete smiled broadly. "That makes me happy. I wondered if she'd told the family about me. I didn't want to say anything to intrude. It did surprise me that there weren't any funeral arrangements."

  "According to her lawyer," I said, throwing Nigel under the bus, "she didn't want a fuss. She had her cremains sent to me, and she left me the house. That's how we found out." I put on a very sad face.

  "That does sound like her," Pete said.

&n
bsp; "I'm sorry for your loss," I added.

  "Thank you. We'd been together for a year or so. But she didn't want to make that public."

  I'll bet. With three suitors, I had to wonder if she had any interest in the men at all. From what I'd learned so far, Aunt June was very savvy. She'd know how these men really felt, and I had the strangest feeling that she didn't return their affections.

  What I didn't ask was how did the spider get out of his enclosure on the third floor and down to kill her on the first. It wasn't like she'd cuddle with him while watching TV.

  "It was hard," Pete continued, "having to identify her and do the autopsy. I made sure it wasn't invasive. That was the least I could do."

  "You poor thing." I patted his hand. "I can't even imagine."

  "Well." He sobered up quickly. "I am a professional first and foremost. But I felt I owed it to her to be the one who made the call as to cause of death."

  Of course he did. If Pete had killed Aunt June, he'd need to make sure he was the only one to examine her.

  "Who handled the cremation?" I asked.

  His eyebrows went up. This was what made him wary? Why wouldn't he want to tell me, her heir, that?

  "I'd like to see if anyone signed their online book, maybe posted some stories about her. And I should probably see if there are any fees that still need to be paid."

  He relaxed. "That would be Maplethorpe's."

  I made a huge display of typing that into my phone. "Would that be in Guttenberg?"

  He shook his head. "No. It's outside of town. They handle almost all the rural funerals in the county. Tommy Maplethorpe built the funeral home outside of city limits so that no one would think he was favoring one town over the other."

  Or to avoid looking like he was from Behold. Was he like Jared in thinking those folks were nuts?

  "Smart!" I proclaimed. "I'll look him up today."

  I stared meaningfully at the file in an attempt to get him to hand it to me. He did not.

  "Is there anything in that file that might help me get closure?" I hated being so obvious, but some people are so thick that you have to spell it out.