by Abigail Keam
“I will do the cooking, if you please,” corrected Matt. “Trust me, you don’t want to eat hers.”
I frowned. Matt seemed to be showing off for Shaneika. “You sure seem to eat a lot of my bad cooking.”
“Feel sorry for you, that’s all.” He started towards the kitchen. Baby loped after him. “Also, will be staying here . . . until this is officially over. I’ll be bedding down in the old caretaker’s cabana.”
I started to protest but Shaneika cut me off. “I think this is for the best. O’nan apparently has a vendetta against you. Anytime someone believes you ruined his life and carries a gun, you should take every precaution. O’nan is a very real danger until this mess is sorted out.”
I nodded in agreement. She was right. It just unnerved me that two younger people were making better decisions than I. It made me feel old.
“I want some wine with dinner, honey child,” she called after Matt. “And you, Josiah, are going to tell me how you lost all your money, but manage to still live like a rich woman,” she said, training her eyes on me.
“What makes you think that I have lost my money?”
“You don’t get your hair professionally done.”
“Maybe I’m eccentric.”
“Not it. Women your age always get their hair done. And this house needs a lot of work,” Shaneika said, looking around. “You drive a thirty-plus-year-old beater, and you are really worried about my fees – not that I cost you anything. Like I said, I owe your daughter a favor.”
“Want to tell me about that favor?”
“Quit changing the subject. What happened to your money?”
“It’s a long story,” I replied.
“I’ve got all night. No court tomorrow. Since I saw that heated pool out back, I will be spending lots of time out here. I love to swim. You got any problems with that?”
Laughing, I held up my hands in surrender. “No, it will be fun having the house filled with young people again.”
“I saw some horses when I came in.”
“I rescued a couple that were starving. Sometimes when friends go out of town, I’ll watch their horses for them. I don’t board them as a rule.”
“I like horses.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I opened a carved limestone box and held it out to my lawyer. Shaneika carefully selected a cigar. We settled into our chairs to watch the sun settle over the infinity pool that blended into the Kentucky River while Matt fussed in the kitchen. Baby followed his every move, padding after him on his oversize paws, hoping that Matt would drop a morsel or two. The world was settling into night. I could hear a hoot owl combine calls with a screech owl’s high-pitched ones across the river. It was peaceful, but my mind whirled up possible scenarios waiting for me. As well intended as Matt and Shaneika were, I knew this was something I had to fix . . . and fast.
After Shaneika left, Matt ensconced himself in the cabana. Knowing that Matt would be preoccupied with exploring his digs, I dressed in black, pulled my hair up into a dark hat and left the house quietly. I didn’t want Matt to know where I was going. After forty minutes of driving to the north side of town, I found myself in front of Richard Pidgeon’s house. There was only one light on inside. I drove past a second time to see if anyone was walking a dog or jogging at this late hour. Driving past a third time, I stopped the car. I quietly transferred all the Pidgeons’ garbage from the garbage can to the back of my vehicle. I looked around again and then sped away.
When I got home, I hid the garbage bags in the tool shed. I would go through them after Matt went to work. I knew if I got caught going through the Pidgeons’ garbage, it would look bad. I could only hope the garbage man came early each collection day, and Tellie and Taffy would never know that someone was stealing their garbage . . . and hopefully their secrets. Most people are too lazy to burn documents that could implicate them. They simply throw them away, thinking that the local dump will hide their sins. I knew better.
I showered and went gratefully to bed, sleeping soundly.
Awaking before noon, I found Baby in his crate where Matt had placed him. He had turned his water bowl over, and what appeared to be remnants of his breakfast stained his blanket. I let him outside, keeping a watchful eye until he tinkled. With water features surrounding the house including a deep pool, I needed to make sure that the clumsy puppy didn’t fall into one of them. Baby was still learning how to walk on his oversized paws and could easily stumble on his long ears. Since he didn’t want to come back inside the house, I decided that now was as good as time as any to go through the Pidgeons’ garbage. Dressed in ratty cotton pj’s and shoes with holes in them, I padded to the shed with Baby following. I hadn’t even combed my hair yet. But it didn’t matter, going through garbage. I sat in the grass with piles of rotting food and limp paper about me as Baby tried to roll in it. Finally, I had to put Baby in the tool shed so I could have some peace. I was irritated that I had forgotten gloves. After twenty-five minutes of going through nasty, stinking trash, I found nothing. Not wanting to be discovered in my theft, I burned all the paper and put the organic stuff in the compost pile, hiding it deep within.
I finally released Baby from the shed. Angered by his confinement, he would not look at me when I commanded him to follow, but sat in a stubborn hunch. “Baby, we both stink. Let’s go for a swim!” Betting on his fear of abandonment, I kept walking up the gravel road. When I looked back, Baby was reluctantly following me, sniffing the ground.
Once back at the house, I pulled off my pj’s and jumped in the pool. Baby excitedly barked and growled at the edge, but wouldn’t come in. Finally, he lay down, resting his dark muzzle on his paws, expressive brown eyes following me. I floated on my back staring at the trees and cloudy sky. But even someone as self-centered as I am eventually gets tired of dwelling on one’s problems. I climbed out of the pool, washed in the outdoor shower, ate breakfast, and cleaned the kitchen and great room. I finally got around to putting on some clothes, combed my hair, and brushed my teeth.
I can’t deny that I loved the freedom of my life, but I didn’t feel safe anymore. I was constantly checking the security monitors. I worried about O’nan. I worried about his unchecked anger. And I worried about being the target of that anger.
The next few days went by quickly. Still, I went to collect the Pidgeons’ garbage, switching it with some non-descript garbage of mine in the same type of garbage bag. It seemed like Tellie was cleaning house too, ridding herself of computer magazines, yellowing newspapers carefully folded in half, old recipes, and receipts going back to 1999. I learned that Tellie liked Lean Cuisine and Cadbury bars. Her electric bill for the past two years was always thirty-two dollars and twenty-four cents. Talk about obsessive. Didn’t she and Richard ever turn the lights on? I also found Tellie’s pay stubs from one of the LETC Clinics in town that stayed open twenty-four/seven. Tellie had once told me that she wanted to be a pediatrician. I wondered what caused Tellie to abandon her dream of becoming a doctor and settle for being a part-time nurse at an emergency treatment center. I knew she had the brains to become a doctor. Did Richard make her quit? Maybe he wouldn’t pony up the money for school. Or just maybe after she had Taffy, she wanted to stay home.
Money. That was a big issue with Richard. He was always complaining about money. It appeared that he really was having financial trouble. I found several crumpled notices from collection agencies. I also recovered a letter from the bank about the mortgage. Seems as though they had missed a few payments. A fat life insurance policy loomed larger and larger. I circled money as a motive on my legal pad.
On the eleventh day after I had started my garbage diving, I looked up from my Market booth to find Detective Goetz gazing intently at me.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. He was wearing what appeared to be a new sports jacket and was freshly shaved. His craggy face almost looked handsome. There was a hint of cologne drifting from him.
I was not happy to see him. I must
have made a face as he tugged at his clothes saying, “Nothing up my sleeves this time.”
“No invoking of the Patriot Act?” I asked.
He grinned. He had nice teeth. “I felt like a fool putting that bug on you but I was ordered to. I am only two years away from my pension, you see.”
I nodded. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Thought you might like to know that the medical examiner has finally ruled Pidgeon’s death as accidental.”
I was cautious. “And that means?”
“You are off the hook.”
“Did you really think Pidgeon was murdered?”
“I thought it looked damned odd, to tell you the truth. We were given time to check out all possibilities, but none panned out. I’ve seen more suspicious cases turn out to be a big fat nothing. Just the wrong place at the right time.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I think what really happened is that he had his wife drive him out there to create some mischief with your hives, and he had a heart attack and tumbled into the hive. Tellie lied because she didn’t want to implicate herself in any trouble. Try as I could, I wasn’t able to break her alibi.”
“You tried to break her alibi? I bet that caused problems with O’nan.”
“I never considered you seriously as a suspect. I didn’t ever think you lured Pidgeon to your hives with the intention of harming him.”
“But O’nan pushed it.”
Goetz pursed his lips. “Detective O’nan has been placed on leave with pay for awhile. His performance on this case is being reviewed.”
I pulled off my straw hat. “Detective Goetz, that is the best news I have had for weeks. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Like right now?”
“Yes, I feel like celebrating. I feel like my life has been given back to me.”
“Like to, but I’m on duty. How about a rain check?”
“Okay,” I said, giving him my best smile.
Goetz started to walk away but then turned. “By the way, why did you call him?”
“Who?”
“Your cell phone. Pidgeon’s number really was on your cell phone log.”
“I thought you and O’nan made that up. I never called him.”
“Check your bill. You will find his number on it.” He waved goodbye.
I now knew why Goetz came. He was making a last ditch effort to pin something on me before his buddy got the boot. That son of a bitch!
I closed up my booth early. On the way home, I called Shaneika on my cell, leaving a message. When I got home, I heard the phone ringing. I hurriedly unlocked the door and reached for the phone, “Hello?” It is a ridiculous fact of my life that my cell phone stops working in the house, causing the expense of a traditional phone.
“You sound out of breath.”
“Just a minute. I gotta turn off the security system.” Finishing the sequence of numbers, I plopped down. “Goetz paid me a call today. He said the case was closed.”
“That’s why I am calling. It was officially ruled as a heart attack, but they can still open the case again with cause,” said Shaneika.
“So this is a temporary reprieve.”
“Unless something pops up that makes the police want to look at the case again, I would say it is over.”
“You don’t sound certain.”
“Nothing is certain in this world.”
I frowned. “And O’nan?”
“I filed a formal complaint. I couldn’t find a college picture to ID him but the socials were the same. He has been pulled off the case and is now up for a review.”
“Did he lose his baseball scholarship?”
“Yes, he did. If I were you, I would cross the street if you two are ever on the same sidewalk.”
“Hates me that much, huh?”
“Like a firebrand.” Shaneika muffled the phone to talk with her secretary. “Back. Look, it is over. You don’t owe me a thing. Like I said, I owed your daughter a favor, so you don’t have to worry about that. Get on with your life. I really do think it is over for good.”
“Thanks for all you did. I appreciate it,” I said.
“Just make sure your daughter knows what I did for you,” Shaneika replied coldly before hanging up.
11
It was one of those crisp mornings when fall was broadcasting its arrival. As usual on a Saturday, I was at the Farmers’ Market peddling my honey. Every weekend the vendors supplied local meat, homegrown produce, eggs, fruit, baked goods, fish, and cheese to over five thousand customers who enjoyed purchasing their food outdoors to the sounds of live music and yarns of their favorite farmer. The atmosphere was always festive.
I was placing glass honey jars in a basket when Officer Kelly rolled up on his Segway. I never failed to think of Kelly as a cliché that walked and talked. His wicked grin, his thick red hair falling over his freckled forehead causing his green eyes to peek out, and then a cop on top of that. And, of course, Irish, a descendant of immigrants who built the nineteenth-century stone fences that the tourists refer to as “slave walls.”
I tried to be angry but couldn’t. Officer Kelly was one of my dearest friends. He was a man who had never said an unkind word to me, who was always gallant, and who brought me food on every occasion that we saw each other. We had many things in common such as the belief that the Templar Knights still existed and the grassy knoll was overlooked in the Warren Report. Kelly introduced me to absinthe and some other bad habits about which I will never utter a word. He was a good cop, but a decadent man.
He was really my daughter’s friend whom I had adopted when she moved away. Kelly was so affable, I couldn’t stand to lose him so I collected him, I guess, as I did my paintings. I was there for his wedding and his children’s christenings. His family and I usually had dinner once a month, but since the “incident,” things had been put on hold. I hadn’t seen him since this mess started with Pidgeon’s death, although his wife had called several times to offer her support.
Kelly stretched out a gloved hand, which held hot chocolate and a bagel. “There is no use being mad at me, Josiah. I had to stay away, but I want you to know that I was working behind the scenes on your behalf.”
“You are a liar and a coward,” I replied, jerking the food out of his hands. “You cops always stick together. I’ll not listen to any of your Irish glib defending your bad conduct.”
“O’nan is a mean piece of work. He was watching everyone who had contact with you, especially me. But I did talk to Goetz on the sly,” said Kelly.
“What did you say?”
“I said you were not the murdering type. It didn’t even look like a murder case to me.”
Mollified somewhat, I asked, “What did Goetz say?”
“He thought the investigation was headed in the wrong direction, but couldn’t speak up because O’nan was the primary. It wasn’t until your lawyer filed that petition that Goetz was able to pull free of O’nan.” Kelly laughed. “Oh, man, does O’nan look like a horse’s ass – getting back at his high school art teacher. He’s a big joke around the station for pulling that one.”
“College professor,” I corrected.
“Whatever. Hey, don’t be mad at me. I stood up for you.”
“Who is the primary now?” I asked.
“No one. Pidgeon’s death is listed as a heart attack. The medical examiner let it go.”
“But it could come up again if someone pushed it?”
“Whoa, don’t you know good news when you hear it?”
“Just thinking out loud. I want to know more. I know you have read the file.”
“Man, don’t make me,” whined Kelly.
“I need help.”
“But it’s over.”
“No, it’s not. Someone is trying to put the whammy on me. Please. For old times’ sake? Come on, didn’t I introduce you to your wife?”
“No, you didn’t, but you’ll bitch to her until she makes me help you. Ok
ay, meet me at Al’s in a couple of hours. I get off my shift then,” replied Kelly before speeding away on his Segway.
Al’s Bar was a gritty little saloon on the corner of Sixth and Limestone where trendy urban dwellers and earnest poets hobnobbed with permanently down-and-out alcoholics. It looked like a place Hemingway would come to sip his whiskey and write a masterpiece novel. Like me, it was a little rusty around the edges, but solid at the core. At least, I liked to think so.
I got there first. Sitting in a duct-taped vinyl booth, I asked for a Long Island iced tea. After a cheery waitress brought my drink, I ordered two cheeseburger platters with all the trimmings, knowing that Kelly would be hungry. Just as the food arrived, Kelly plopped wearily into the booth. Happily, he poured ketchup on his plate while asking the waitress for a Corona and extra napkins.
“What’s it going to take for you not to be mad at me?” he asked, licking ketchup from his fingers.
“Why did the police think Pidgeon’s death wasn’t an accident?”
“Because it looked funny. The missing car is the main reason. If Pidgeon’s car had been at your place, then we would have assumed he died while vandalizing your hives.”
“But why look at me? Why not Tellie?”
Kelly took a hearty bite out of his cheeseburger and answered with his mouth full. “She was the first person they looked at, but she had an airtight alibi. Her co-worker swore that Tellie left work at her usual time at 7 a.m. Richard died around seven. Not enough time for her to drive him to your place. Tellie claims that you called Richard, and that you must have picked him up. She said she drove straight home after work and went to bed. Didn’t know anything until we knocked on the door.”
“She’s a nurse at the LETC on Tates Creek. That’s only twenty minutes from me. She could have easily slipped out early,” I said, grabbing some of his fries after eating all of mine.
“Couldn’t shake her alibi. Like I said, with her co-worker vouching for her, and the time card punched out at the correct time, Tellie’s untouchable.”
