Die, Die Birdie

by J. R. Ripley

  “Theo!” I cried with relief. “It’s Dwayne! I’m sorry, but he’s our killer.” I twirled toward Theo. “He murdered Matt!”

  Theo’s brow shot up. He leaned heavily against his cane and reached into his coat pocket. “Lord,” he sighed wearily. “I never thought it would come to this.”

  I nodded and turned to Dwayne. “It’s over now, Dwayne,” I said firmly. “You’ll have to come with us. You’ve got a lot to answer for.”

  Dwayne smiled. “I don’t think so.” He pointed at his uncle.

  My brow furrowed and I slowly turned my head. Uncle Theo was pointing a revolver at me.

  “Is there anybody else in the house?” Theo asked his nephew, his voice steady.

  “Just a couple old ladies.”

  Mom and Esther. It was a good thing my mother hadn’t heard that “old” crack. What would happen to them? “Please,” I begged, “do what you have to do, but don’t hurt them. They don’t know anything. Besides, they’re asleep. Do what you want—take what you want, but don’t harm them.” The board hung at my side.

  “You get him up yet?” Theo barked to his nephew.

  “It ain’t easy,” Dwayne whined. “The guy’s all tangled up in there.”

  “Well, untangle him so we can get out of here!” ordered Theo.

  Dwayne’s lips curled downward and he turned toward the dumbwaiter. As he did, a bloodcurdling yell startled us all. I turned first. Esther was sprinting across the attic floor, baseball bat in hand. Dwayne was leaning over the dumbwaiter shaft. That was my chance!

  I leapt forward, hitting him in the middle of the back with my board. “Ooomph.” Dwayne let out an explosion of breath and fell into the yawning gap.

  Theo turned but it was too late. Esther brought her baseball bat down on his hand and the revolver skidded across the floor. She moved in and he fought her off with his cane. It was really a sight to see.

  Dwayne’s moans echoed upward. His flashlight lay on the floor beneath the dumbwaiter. I grabbed it and searched wildly for the revolver, but it was nowhere to be found.

  “Give me a hand here, moron!” shrieked Esther. “I can’t hold him all night!”

  I looked up to see Esther locked in mortal combat with Theo. I bolted toward them and slammed into Theo’s side. I clobbered him with the flashlight. He kept fighting, his one good hand locked around Esther’s neck.

  “Stop!” I shrieked. I struck him again.

  Esther had recovered her bat as we all three sprawled on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. I watched in horror as the bat swung my way. Fortunately, Theo’s head was there to stop the blow that I thought surely was going to land squarely between my eyes.

  Theo twitched once, stopped moving. A large knot grew in the center of his forehead.

  “Nice shot,” I said, huffing and rolling over onto my back. Wow, she had a better swing than I ever did, even in my high school softball-playing prime.

  Esther coughed. “I need a drink.”

  I grinned. “As soon as I can get up, I’ll get you some water.”

  She frowned at me. “Water?” she scoffed. “That’s no drink.”

  I raised my brows. “I’ve got a bottle of Tennessee whiskey in the apartment.” Dwayne’s groans had become faint and less frequent.

  A glint came to her eyes. “The one above your fridge?”

  Huh? I lifted my head from the floor. “Wait, you know about—” I stopped. I heard sirens in the distance. “You called the police.”

  “Darn right, I did.” She coughed some more and shook her head. “I’m too old for this. Too much noise, too much commotion.” She pointed an arthritic finger at me. “You banging on my door in the middle of the night.” She let out a breath and crawled to her knees. She retrieved her baseball bat from where it lay beside Theo—who still wasn’t moving—using it as a cane. “What kind of apartment house are you running here, anyway?”

  “Help!” wailed Dwayne. “Hey, somebody, help!” I made my way slowly to the dumbwaiter shaft. The deliveryman was stuck upside down in the narrow hole.

  “Don’t worry,” I called. “Somebody will get you out . . . eventually.” I wiped my hands. “And then they’ll lock you up and throw away the key,” I said under my breath.

  Pounding feet came our way and bouncing beams of flashlights spilled into the low-ceilinged attic.

  “It’s the fuzz,” Esther said, pointing her bat at Chief Jerry Kennedy and Officer Dan Sutton. Both men had their guns drawn.

  I pushed the tip of the bat toward the ground. “Careful, Esther. Jerry might think that thing is loaded and shoot you.”

  Esther smiled broadly, took a glance at the comatose Theo Allen, and said, “This baby’s always loaded, Simms. And don’t you forget it.”

  I returned her smile. I didn’t think I would.

  30

  “I ran into the postman,” Kim announced, wiping her feet at the door on the coco mat. I’d removed the lovebirds, at least temporarily, exiling them to the rear entrance. Too many people tramping in and out and the birds were driving everybody batty. “Grabbed your mail.” Kim tossed a handful of mail—catalogs and envelopes—on the counter.

  “Thanks,” I said, yawning. Kim knew all about last night’s events. I’d phoned her first thing in the morning. Birds & Bees would be closed for a couple of days while the police did their thing. Plus, I wanted to keep the treasure- and thrill-seekers away. Lance Jennings from the Ruby Lake Weekender had come by, sniffing around for the big scoop. I only let him have it after he promised to make it very clear in his article that there were no rubies in my house. The last thing I needed was for even more people to get the idea that there was a fortune in gems hidden somewhere in the old house. I’d never get any rest and my house would be riddled with holes.

  I also made him promise to get the name of the store right. “It’s Birds and Bees,” I’d said, firmly. “Not Birds and Things, not Babies and Bonnets . . . If you don’t get it right this time, I’ll sic Esther on you with her baseball bat!”

  Jerry Kennedy helped himself to his second roast beef sandwich. The police had been there all night. Moire Leora, bless her heart, had brought breakfast and later sandwiches from the diner.

  “I’m just glad everyone is all right and those men are behind bars,” Mom said.

  Dwayne and Theo were actually in the hospital under the watchful eyes of medical professionals and armed police officers. Sally Nickerson was behind bars.

  Mom hadn’t been happy when she’d learned that Dwayne had tampered with my van’s rear wheel in an attempt to kill me, or at least put me out of commission for a while so he and his uncle could search the house unhindered. Theo had sent Dwayne out to sabotage the Kia while he’d kept me busy in the living room sipping tepid, worse-than-tasteless tea.

  I, on the other hand, had been thrilled to learn he’d been mucking around with my Kia. Why? Because I got to rub Jerry’s nose in it, of course. Maybe he’ll think twice before scoffing the next time I tell him somebody is trying to kill me.

  Wait. Scratch that. There would be no next time.

  Jerry nodded and stuffed a couple of peanut butter cookies in his pocket. “You all are lucky we arrived when we did.”

  The corner of my mouth went up. “I’d say Esther and I had things pretty well under control.”

  The chief looked at me with uncloaked disdain. “Please, if we hadn’t—”

  “So what about the gems?” Kim demanded. “Who’s got the rubies?” She rubbed her hands together. “Do we get to keep them?” She sidled up beside me and jiggled her brow. “Partner?”

  I shook my head. “Sorry. There are no rubies. At least, according to Gertie Hammer.”

  “That’s right,” Jerry said, apparently not averse to speaking with his mouth full.

  Gertie had laughed when the police questioned her about the hidden stash of rubies, I explained to Kim and my mother, who was sitting in one of the rockers with a throw over her knees. I had brought the chair up near
the front counter so she would be more comfortable.

  Gertie had said that if there ever were rubies they were long gone or she’d have found them. She might have been lying. Still, if she had found them, I suspected she wouldn’t still be driving that clunker.

  “She owned the house for nearly fifty years,” put in Chief Kennedy. “So if anybody should know about those rubies, it would be her.”

  I nodded, deep in thought. Gertie had refused to say why she wanted to buy the house back and neither were the mayor or Robert LaChance willing to talk about it. Because Dwayne and Sally Nickerson had admitted their own—at odds—involvement in their hunt for the treasure, there was nothing the police could do to make Gertie Hammer, Mac MacDonald or Robert LaChance talk about their reasons for trying to get my house.

  Theo was in a coma but expected to recover. Dwayne, however, was alert and talking. And he’d talked plenty. It seems he and his uncle had read about the rubies in that new book that had come out, the one John Moytoy had suggested I read. Theo had checked it out from the Ruby Lake Town Library. So had the Nickersons. And they all wanted the rubies. With me moving into the house and all the construction going on, and knowing they were each after the same prize, things between them had heated up.

  Things were moving fast. Plus they were worried that the more people who read the book, the more competition there’d be for the rubies.

  Dwayne still insisted he hadn’t meant to murder Matt Kowalski. “I only hit him because we were arguing. He’d been in the house for weeks and still claimed he hadn’t found anything. Me and Uncle Theo were starting to get annoyed. Thought maybe Matt was holding out on us.” Dwayne and Matt had been friends. Police learned afterward that Dwayne was known to have visited Matt down in Myrtle Beach during his delivery runs. Dwayne and Theo recruited Matt to help them in their scheme. Who knew if they’d intended to kill him from the start, once he’d found the rubies for them. Neither was confessing to that.

  So the two men had argued, and Dwayne had whacked Matt into the next world. He’d been intending to dispose of the body, but I’d returned and stumbled on it first.

  “I still don’t understand how Dwayne got here in time to commit murder.” Kim plucked a scrunchie from her handbag and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. “I thought you said he was on a delivery in Ethelberg.” She shook her head. “He couldn’t have done it.”

  A sour expression appeared on Jerry’s face. “We wondered the same thing. On further questioning of the staff at the store he’d delivered to, it turns out that it was Dwayne’s uncle Theo who’d made the delivery. Dwayne arrived here in the pickup.” The same pickup I’d seen last night from my window. The one I thought belonged to Aaron Maddley. It turned out both men drove similar models. I’d sure botched things up with Aaron . . .

  “The first time we called to verify Dwayne’s alibi, we just asked if Cole’s Trucking had made a delivery. They had.” Jerry Kennedy paused and scooped up a forkful of coleslaw. “Turns out,” he said, waving his plastic fork, “the description of the driver matches Theodore Allen, not Dwayne Rogers.”

  So Dwayne had been in Ruby Lake getting rid of Matt Kowalski. A frisson ran up my arms as I remembered what Jerry told me after they searched Theo’s house and Dwayne’s truck. He explained the bleach and tarp were probably for disposing of Matt’s body. Supposedly, the items help cover the odor of decay. “Dwayne’s uncle is a retired truck driver,” I added. “So it would have been easy for him to make that delivery instead.”

  “If they arranged that, it seems to me the crime might have been premeditated,” Mom said, her mouth forming a straight line. I was thinking the same thing. She sighed sadly. “I can’t believe little Dwayne Rogers is a murderer.”

  “It happens, Mom.” I patted her shoulder. Actually, I explained, he was a double murderer. He’d confessed to finding Ted Nickerson in the house searching for the rubies too. The two men fought and Ted lost. That was the commotion Kim and I had heard. Dwayne had taken the beekeeper suit and worn it as some sort of weird disguise. He’d murdered Ted Nickerson, then when he’d heard us coming up, he stuffed his victim in the dumbwaiter and barreled past us, intending to return later to dispose of the body. “He might have gotten away with it too, if the dumbwaiter hadn’t become stuck.”

  “I think you should have that thing permanently sealed up,” suggested Mom. I agreed.

  “If there were rubies, who would they belong to?” Kim apparently couldn’t let go of the idea of instant riches. Not that I could blame her.

  Officer Sutton came down the stairs, all slack-jawed and sagging. “They need you upstairs, Chief.” I’d never noticed what a long neck he had. And with those big eyes of his, he was practically ostrich-like.

  Chief Kennedy nodded. “Search me,” he replied to Kim’s question, grabbing a handful of homemade barbecue potato chips and heading for the back stairs.

  “Who’s taking care of Sally Nickerson’s poor children?” Mom asked.

  “The motor inn staff have sort of adopted them until a relative arrives. Sally’s sister is coming over from Nashville,” I explained. There never had been a house on Sycamore.

  Mom rose and gazed out the front window. “I think we should rename the store Birds & Bees & Blooms,” she quipped. She’d been out front gardening earlier while the police worked inside, and her clothes were covered with grass and dirt stains.

  I smiled contentedly. The garden was beginning to shape up and spring was just around the corner.

  There was a rap on the front door. Mom looked at me. “It’s John Moytoy, from the library.”

  I waved to him. “It’s okay,” I told Mom. “Let him in.”

  “Good to see you, John.” I squeezed him. “As you can see”—I spread my arms—“everything is back to normal. The murders are solved and I’ve got you to thank.”

  “Oh?”

  I explained how I’d read the tale about the missing rubies in the book he’d lent me.

  John beamed.

  I blanched. Over John’s shoulder, a well-dressed woman in heels stomped toward me. Unfortunately, I hadn’t told Mom to lock the door behind John. They say bad things happen when you don’t lock the door behind you. This was one of those times.

  Her hair was pulled back in a tight knot and her eyes were aflame. The woman was clearly agitated. And I recognized her right away. I gulped and braced myself. It was Derek Harlan’s wife, Amy. I shot a look at the back stairs. It was good to know the police were here in case I needed backup.

  “Stay away from my husband!” she cried.

  “I don’t want anything to do with him!” I said. I felt color coming to my cheeks. Mom, Kim, and John were all staring at me. “He was my lawyer. Nothing more.” I rubbed my hands together. “And he’s not even that any longer.” Thank goodness.

  She narrowed her eyes and glared at me darkly. “I heard you had dinner with him!”

  Uh-oh. She must have heard about us sharing a booth at the diner the other night. One of the perks of living in a small town. “I did not have dinner with him,” I replied with indignation. “He had dinner with me. And it wasn’t really dinner,” I added quickly, seeing the storm clouds gathering in her eyes. “It was more a consultation!”

  Amy Harlan pointed her finger at me. Her nail was pink and brightly polished. “Just stay away from him or, I swear, I’ll kill you!”

  She stormed out.

  John chuckled. “Who was that?”

  “Derek Harlan’s wife,” I said sourly. “Amy.”

  “His wife’s name is Amy?” Kim snickered and brought her hand to her mouth. I glowered at her. Best friends can be such a pain.

  John’s brow furrowed. “Derek isn’t married.”

  “Tell that to his wife.”

  “No, really.” John ran a hand along the countertop. “I’ve met Derek. He’s come into the library a few times doing research for cases he’s working on. We’ve chatted.” He rapped the counter with his knuckles. “I’m telling you—the
man isn’t married. He’s been divorced for over a year. He moved here to be closer to his daughter. His wife has custody, at least during the school year.”

  I narrowed my eyes, studying John’s face for signs of subterfuge. Was he pulling my leg? Yanking my chain? Trying to get my goat? I’d get even with him, if he was.

  Still, I did see the beginnings of a beautiful beach wedding starting to make itself known again. I shook myself. Nope. Never in a million years. Not with a nut job like that for an ex-wife. I’d steer clear of Derek Harlan. Too bad I’d blown it with Aaron Maddley. To take my mind off things like dead bodies, hidden treasures, and—perhaps most annoyingly—men, I rummaged through the mail Kim had dumped on the counter, picked up the letter opener, and slit open an official-looking letter from town hall. My jaw fell.

  “What is it now?” A worried look crossed John’s face. Mom turned and studied me.

  “Yeah, what is it, Amy?” interjected Kim. I felt her come up behind me and lay a hand on my shoulder. She read. “Can they do that?”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “What?” John said, clearly annoyed at being kept in the dark.

  I held out the official notice from the town’s planning commission. John’s eyes darted across the page. “They want to widen the street? Demolish your house through eminent domain?”

  I felt Kim’s hand tighten around my upper arm. “They can’t do that,” she said. “Can they?” She was beginning to sound like a parrot with a new favorite phrase.

  I sighed, rested my elbows on the counter and my head on my fists. I was thinking of renaming the store: Birds & Bees . . . and Blues.

  Two state police officers trooped through the front, asked for the chief. I pointed up the stairs. “Did I really go through all this effort and all this”—I waved my arms uselessly in the air—“mayhem, only to lose it all now?” I asked no one in particular.

  Kim’s mouth flattened. “You were almost killed.”