by J. C. Eaton
Then Theo added his two cents. “They’ll probably have it on the news tomorrow morning. Did they give a description?”
“Yeah. A really detailed one. You know what they say about criminals not being too bright. This guy didn’t realize he was staring right into the camera. It was one of those nanny cams on a shelf in the kitchen.”
“If I was that dude,” Theo said, “I’d be heading for the nearest airport and not looking back.”
I held my breath, expecting Clayton to have some sort of reaction but he didn’t. So I mouthed the words, “Do it again” to Don and Theo.
Theo furrowed his brow and gave me a weird look. Then he poked Don and shrugged.
“Again,” I mouthed, hoping no one noticed.
“Yeah,” Don said. “They’ll have this wrapped up like a Christmas turkey. Once that video’s made public, Lavettia’s killer will be behind bars. He’s probably the same guy who killed Arnold. Talk about timing. Right at the reading of the will.”
I stepped away, trying to appear nonchalant while, all the time, I was eyeballing Clayton. Not a move. Not a reaction. Not anything. Then the moment I was waiting for. Clayton shifted in his seat as if he was about to make a run for it. I tapped my teeth and reached in my pocket for my cell phone.
Phooey! Instead of bolting out of there like a fugitive on the run, Clayton turned to Don and Theo and asked them something. By now I was out of range and didn’t want to appear too obvious.
Theo stretched out both arms. “I need to get a drink,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear him. “Looks like this will be a long night after all.”
He walked toward the coffee service, making sure he would be inches from where I had planted myself. “It’s not him,” Theo whispered. “Miller’s a different story.”
Chapter 26
“Now that everyone has had sufficient time for food, drink, and potty breaks, may we please begin the reading of my client’s last will and testament?” Marvin asked in a voice that sounded more like a demand than a question.
Muted voices echoed their agreement, and I took a seat at the end of the last row. I honestly didn’t know how I could’ve misread the situation, but I had. By eliminating Clayton as the person responsible for killing Lavettia and Arnold, we were back to where we started. And what did Theo mean by “Miller”? I glanced around the room, but all I could see were the backs of peoples’ heads. I pinched my shoulder blades together, stretched my arms, and walked to the side of the room so that I could see their faces.
Unlike my screenplays, where the characters always give themselves away, this room was full of would-be poker players. The guests, that was, not my staff. Cammy, Glenda, and Lizzie stood in the back, adjacent to the food tables. Sam and Roger were inches from the drinks in case someone got up for more wine. Fred and Emma were still in the kitchen. They had a dessert menu to present once the will had been read.
The younger nuns took up the entire fourth row, except for the seat I originally grabbed. The Triumvirate planted themselves down front. Thane sat a few seats over from Clayton and diagonal from Sister Celeste. Godfrey sat one seat over from Thane, his view partially obstructed by the nuns’ veils, but I didn’t think he cared.
Marvin introduced himself and Bradley. He cleared his throat, planted his palms on the table, and leaned toward the audience. “Good evening, or should I say morning, because it’s already a few minutes past midnight. Thank you all for coming. I realize this is a most unusual venue, but my client, Arnold Mowen, had his reasons. According to his wishes, the reading of his last will and testament will begin with the sharing of fond memories. Who would like to speak first?”
“Isn’t that something they do at the funeral?” Sam leaned toward Roger.
Everyone heard his question, including Marvin.
Marvin turned his head slightly. “True, true, but Mr. Mowen wasn’t certain there’d be a funeral, so he left explicit directions for me to allow the mourners to speak.”
I wasn’t so sure there were any real mourners, but I kept my mouth shut and returned to my seat. Marvin stared directly at the audience and didn’t say a word.
Finally, Clayton stood and clasped his hands together. “Arnold once picked up the tab for both of us when we ate at Emile’s Restaurant. We were on our way back to the office after a routine IRS audit. Those of you who knew Arnold, knew how he hated to part with a dime, so paying for my meal was really, really over the top. All seven dollars and ninety-nine cents for the meatball special.” Clayton sat down and leaned back in his chair.
“Who else would like to share?” Marvin asked.
Sister Mary Katherine stood and folded her hands together. “Mr. Mowen never forgot us at Christmas. He always sent us a card. ‘Holiday Greetings from Lake-to-Lake Wine Distributors.’”
By now, I was doing mental eye rolls like crazy. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room and if I could have thought of something to say, I would have. Instead, I locked gazes with Miller Holtz and then widened my eyes, hoping he’d get the hint and say something. Instead, he looked down, as if he’d forgotten to zip up his fly. I immediately turned the other way.
“If there are no more fond recollections of Mr. Mowen,” Marvin said, “we shall proceed with his last will and testament.”
That was when Miller opened his mouth. “Finally!”
Marvin reached for the legal-size manila folder on the table and removed some papers. He turned to Bradley and began to read.
“‘I, Arnold Stanley Mowen, being of sound mind and memory, do hereby make, publish, and declare this to be my last will and testament, hereby revoking all prior wills and codicils. I hereby name and appoint Marvin Leroy Souza as personal representative to administer my estate. Mr. Souza shall be paid reasonable compensation for serving in this capacity. I repeat, reasonable. Do you hear that, Marvin?’”
At that point, the audience gasped, and Marvin took a deep breath. “Mr. Mowen believed in specificity. Now then, I need to continue.”
“‘I direct my personal representative to pay any debt or claim which he deems legally enforceable against my estate. Legally enforceable, Marvin, not anecdotal.’”
With that, Thane Eldridge stood and bellowed, “He wants legally enforceable, he’ll get it.”
Meanwhile, the temperature outside must have dropped considerably because the fans from our furnace kicked on full strength, loosening some of the cottony snow clusters from the mantels in the banquet room. A few wisps of fake snow floated around the room. At that very second, the front door banged open and what at first appeared to be a specter draped in billowy layers of mauve, purple, and black, turned out to be a middle-aged woman who rushed into the banquet room. Her waist-long hair, in shades of blue and black, covered the front of the cloak she had on. The last time I’d seen anyone wear anything of its kind was during a documentary I watched on the Brontë sisters.
Her sudden entrance caught all of us by surprise, especially Marvin, who dropped the papers he was holding, and Bradley, who bent down to pick them up from the floor. They had scattered all over the place.
“Glenda!” the woman shrieked, charging over to the buffet. “Thank goodness I’m not too late.”
Glenda toppled backward into the table, shaking some of the double-tiered food trays. “Zenora, what on earth are you doing here?”
Zenora! Glenda’s wacky friend who also dabbled in the occult. And yes, why in heaven’s name did she drive over here in the middle of the night?
Upon close inspection, Zenora looked as if she had just come from the set of a Johnny Depp movie. She reached out and took Glenda by both wrists. “I read your tea leaves after you left my house and I knew, beyond any doubt, I had to warn you. Even if it meant driving over here with those terrible winds. I’m lucky a tree didn’t fall over or, worse yet, one of those utility poles.”
Damn it! That storm better
hold off until tomorrow like the news anchors said.
Zenora shook Glenda’s arms and kept talking. “I would’ve come sooner, but your cup was in the sink with the dirty dishes. I didn’t start the dishes right after you left, and it was only when I started to pour the dishwashing liquid and run the water that I saw the bottom of your cup. You’re in danger, Glenda. Dark, evil spirits are surrounding you. They’re in this room. Hurry! We can cast a purifying spell. Let me light the sage sticks I brought.”
With that, Zenora proceeded to take something out of a large brown satchel.
“No!” I shouted. I left my seat and raced toward her. “No sage sticks. No purifying. Can’t you and Glenda work it out in the kitchen? Please. We have to finish reading a will.”
Zenora turned to face me but instead, looked past my shoulder to the three Sisters in the front row. She reached an arm to the table, where Marvin and Bradley were still hunched over, picking up papers and, as if steadying herself for a launch, pressed against the table before charging in front of Sister Celeste.
“Lavettia, why the hell are you dressed like that?” she screamed. “Halloween was two months ago! I thought you looked like a corpse at the essential oils symposium, but I can see I was wrong. And you’re still dosing yourself with that wretched perfume. What’s it called? Oh yes, ‘Amor Propre.’ Every time I catch a whiff of it, I think I’ve walked into a bordello. Honey, I don’t know what’s up, but you’re really overdoing it tonight.”
Sister Mary Katherine, who was seated one spot over from Sister Celeste, came to attention, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken. This is Sister Celeste from the Convent of the Holy Sepulcher.”
“Yeah, and I’m Mother Teresa.” Then Zenora went eye-to-eye with Sister Celeste. “What’s with the charade? You might be able to fool everyone else, but not me.”
Sister Celeste crossed herself as if she was about to lead everyone in prayer. “This poor misguided woman needs all of our prayers.”
Zenora latched on to one of Sister Celeste’s hands and waved it in the air. “Since when do nuns have such perfectly manicured nails? You might’ve removed the polish, but there’s always a little bit that remains along the cuticle. I take it you’re still sporting Malice by Chanel?”
At that point, Sisters Mary Katherine and Gloria Mae gasped. I looked around the room and everyone, including Marvin and Bradley, had turned their attention to Sister Celeste.
“Dear Lord,” Sister Gloria Mae said, “If this woman isn’t our dear Sister Celeste, then where is she?”
Before anyone could respond, I let it slip. “Henderson’s Funeral Home if I’m not mistaken.”
It was as if I had shouted “Fire!” in a movie theater. Sisters Mary Katherine and Gloria Mae were on Sister Celeste like Dobermans on steak tartare. The three of them were screaming at each other and, at one point, it looked as if Sister Mary Katherine was about to pull Sister Celeste’s veil from her head.
“I say we light the sage sticks now!” Zenora bellowed from another part of the room. Apparently, after the two nuns converged on their peer, Zenora had taken safe refuge next to the buffet table.
“No lighting of anything!” I bleated, but I didn’t think anyone heard me.
Sister Mary Katherine gave Sister Celeste’s veil, coif, and wimple a good yank and, at that moment, Sister Celeste shoved her away and stood.
She reached into the folds of her skirt and pulled out a gun. “This was supposed to be a quiet little matter between Mr. Souza and me, but unfortunately, it doesn’t appear as if that’s possible.”
I felt as if I’d been kicked in the shins. “Lavettia? My God! It is you. What the heck? I was beating myself up over your death, thinking I was somehow responsible for not taking you seriously. Oh my God!”
“Sorry, Norrie. I always liked you. I’m sorry I paid one of those novice nuns to jump you if you returned to the convent. You were becoming too much of a snoop.” With a sudden move, her veil was off, revealing her platinum blond hair. She brandished the gun, but not before she turned around and threatened everyone who was seated behind her.
“If any of you gets a crazy idea to stop me, think again. I know how to shoot this thing and I’m not afraid to do it.”
Wonderful. With my luck, the winery will need new sheetrock.
The winds sounded as if they’d level the building. Windows were rattling and I felt an occasional shake. I was so stunned by the fact I had gotten it all wrong regarding Clayton that I couldn’t think clearly. I tried to get words to form in my mouth, but I stood there tongue-tied.
Marvin held out his palms and rose slowly from the table. “There’s no need to overreact, Miss Lawrence. Drop the gun and we can discuss whatever is concerning you like civilized human beings.”
“What’s concerning me? Are you looney?” Lavettia shrieked. “You know damn well what’s concerning me. Arnold’s money! Now, listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once. My late sister, Luella Lawrence, whom some of you know as the dear departed Sister Celeste, was once Arnold’s business partner in New Jersey, back when they were handling real estate. They got into some shady business, and Luella decided becoming a nun was better than becoming an inmate.”
At that point, one of the younger nuns in the back row whispered, “Dear God, preserve us,” but because the room was so still, her whisper was audible.
Lavettia paid no attention and kept the gun fixed on Marvin’s table. “Arnold was going to rat her out and let her take the fall. That’s when we came up with a plan. She’d do the nun thing and I’d seduce the ratfink. Then, at the opportune time, we’d find a way to get even. I was always more the femme fatale than Luella. Once I hitched up my skirt to adjust my garter, Arnold didn’t stand a chance.”
“So you lured him into a relationship and killed him?” Bradley asked.
“Please! That makes it sound so crass. This was a carefully crafted plot. My sister, who by then was Sister Celeste, was fortuitous enough to come across indisputable evidence that proved Arnold was responsible for that real estate scheme. She told him that if she and I, along with that convent of hers, weren’t named the beneficiaries in his will, she’d go straight to the police with that information.”
“So she killed him?” Bradley asked again.
“Just listen, will you?” Lavettia hissed. “Luella made sure all of us were named the beneficiaries. And, she had a legal document drawn up that stated she was to receive any and all copies of any new wills or they would be considered null and void.”
“Is that even legal?” I asked, but no one responded and Lavettia went on. I had to admit that, by this time, I was getting more than a tad edgy about the pointed gun, which wavered between Marvin’s table and where I stood.
“Wouldn’t you know it? That lousy lowlife changed the will. When Luella got the new copy, she was enraged. All the money was going to go to that mealy-mouthed secretary of his. But, time was on our side. The new will hadn’t been filed yet. That’s when Luella and I pulled a switch. She managed to get out of that convent for the day with one excuse or another, so she could pretend to be me at the essential oils symposium.”
“I knew it!” Zenora shouted. “Even on a bad day, your makeup was never in the neutral zone.”
“And, well… Poor Arnold had to be sent to his final resting place before the new will could be filed.”
“I was right,” Bradley exclaimed. “It was you who killed him. Cold-blooded murder.”
“The skunk had it coming,” Lavettia replied. “And so did my precious sister, who was about to turn me in to the police for murder. Can you imagine? After the deed was done, the guilt got to her. Too many years of being in a convent, I suppose. I had to get her out of the picture as well.”
I clasped my hands together and took a step back. “So, that was you? Pretending to be the cleaning lady w
ho discovered Lavettia. Only it was Luella dressed to appear like you.”
“You catch on quick, Norrie.”
Not quick enough. I almost had Clayton carted away for killing Lavettia so he’d get Arnold’s money.
“Listen,” Lavettia went on, “even a fifty-fifty split of the old coot’s money was better than nothing. The nuns would get their new school, maybe even erect a statue for my sister, and I’d go off and live the good life in Belize.”
Belize? What is it with these people and Central America?
“That’s hardly going to happen now,” Marvin said. “What do you expect to accomplish? Murder all of us?”
Oh, for God’s sake, don’t give her any ideas. She’s as nuts as they come.
I tried to text the sheriff’s department but couldn’t. The wind storm interfered with the reception. Too bad we had a goat instead of trained carrier pigeons. Lavettia lowered her voice and remained calm, but the gun was still at the ready. “I expect the eminent Mr. Souza to get on his iPad, or even one of those winery computers, log on to his business account, and transfer a tidy little sum of his money into my bank account. Don’t worry, once Arnold’s monies come through, I’ll be sure to reimburse Mr. Souza. And if you were wondering, I’ve got a private plane waiting for me at the Penn Yan airport. Isn’t that so, Mr. Eldridge?”
“I’m afraid it is, folks,” Thane Eldridge replied, “Looks like Miss Lawrence is calling the shots from now on.”
Again, that deep voice of his. Where did I hear it? Where did I hear it? I closed my eyes and tried to think. Not so much a conversation as a blip, a phrase, a…that voice! It came to me. That was the voice I’d heard in the background at Lavettia’s house when I called to tell her I’d found Arnold’s wallet.
Thane puffed out his chest as if he’d won a prize. “Oh, and we’ll be borrowing the convent van for a quick jaunt to the airport. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
