A Composition in Murder (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 6)

by Larissa Reinhart

  Pris shook her head. “It’s for a meeting. Mom wanted it here instead of the factory. And she didn’t want anyone ‘nosing around’ Grandmother’s house.”

  I raised my brows at the last remark but held my tongue. Coralee might be cataloging the family china. “How are you doing with your grandmother’s passing? I guess you didn’t know her too well, but it must still be rough.”

  Her eyes moistened, but her voice remained steady. “It’s weird, mourning someone I didn’t know but should’ve. I feel like I lost out.”

  “Understandable.”

  “When we arrived on the fourth, Belvia and I had a good talk. She said she’d been checking on me since I was born, even when my mom wouldn’t talk to her. She was proud of my MBA and the work I’ve done with my own startup.” Pris sniffed. “Strange too. Knowing someone was watching me all those years.”

  “That’s nice though.” I thought of my own mother, who hadn’t done the same. It wasn’t like Grandpa Ed and Grandma Jo had blocked communication, they simply couldn’t find her. “At least you had that conversation. I’m glad for you. It’s good you took the time off from work to see Belvia too. I bet that gave her some peace in her final days.”

  “Makes me angry at my mother, actually.” Pris darted a vicious look at the office door, then swung an embarrassed gaze to me. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I haven’t had anybody to talk to since I came here.”

  “No family of your own?”

  She shook her head. “Never worked out. And I’ve been busy working.”

  The office door opened, revealing stacks of folders and the blipping computer. Coralee stepped out. As I had predicted, she had traded the alpacas for a business suit. Wally peered over her shoulder. He had kept his hipster hippy apparel.

  I, too, had traded my visitation clothes for something more business-y. Harlequin tights and a matching orchid and magenta sweater dress with crocheted paintbrushes tacked in a diamond shape across my chest. I figured if I were working for free, I might as well advertise my skilled paid services as an artist.

  Pris stepped sideways. “Cherry’s here. I’m headed out.”

  “If you take the car, pick up Wally’s prescriptions.” Coralee turned to me. “I need you to make coffee.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “For the three of us? How many cups do y’all want?”

  “For the entire Meemaw’s Tea board, which doesn’t include you. Find donuts or something too.” She eyed my dress, then noticed my befuddled look. “What is it?”

  “I thought I was helping you with funeral plans.”

  “The funeral’s fixed. My mother left instructions with Cooper and we’re combining it with Della’s. I thought you said you wanted to help?”

  “I do.” Witnessing a board meeting could put my suspicion meter to good use. Better to see the interactions between members now that I’d met everyone individually. “Where’s the coffee pot?”

  “In the kitchen, of course. If there’re not enough cups, call the office.” She tossed me a look that spoke of my innate idiocy. “Hurry it up. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And get Molly in here to take minutes. She said she wasn’t feeling up to it, but it’ll do her good. Get her mind off mother’s passing.”

  “I’ll take the minutes.”

  “Do you know how to take minutes? This is important. Everything has to be recorded.”

  I crossed my fingers behind my back. “No problem. I’ll check with Molly to see if she’s got a form or something.”

  “You’re certain you can handle this?” Coralee flicked lint from her suit sleeve. “This is an important meeting. I’m announcing my role as head of Meemaw’s Tea.”

  “I can handle it.”

  She pivoted to reenter the office.

  “You’re an artist.” Pris cocked her head. “Do you know how to take board minutes? I’d help, but I actually have plans.”

  “I’m a quick learner.”

  “You’re protecting Molly.”

  “Yep.”

  But I was also protecting Miss Belvia’s interests by investigating Coralee’s very big motive for murder. Pris had said they’d arrived on the fourth. Two days before her aunt Della was killed. Now I knew Coralee also had opportunity, I felt even sorrier for Pris.

  Her mother could actually be worse than mine.

  Twenty-One

  Call me skeptical, but if everyone thought Coralee had appeared just to attend Della’s funeral, why had Coralee dragged her family to Halo when Della wasn’t yet dead?

  Did Luke and the sheriff know Coralee had motive and opportunity to mow down her sister? They must know. That was basic investigation work. I was the one who hadn’t bothered to ask Coralee and her family for alibis. Once again proving Belvia should’ve asked someone more qualified.

  I found the coffee, started a pot to brew, and left Belvia’s apartment. I needed to talk to Molly, but I slipped into a corner and dialed Deputy Harper.

  “Done with my shift and just getting to bed,” he answered. “Want to join me?”

  Luckily, the folks roaming the halls couldn’t hear or see well. Otherwise, they might have caught my gasp and the Rose Madder flooding my cheeks.

  “Not appropriate?” He laughed.

  “I’m at Halo House.”

  “You can’t tell me that the single seniors don’t get it on.”

  “There’s more bed-hopping here than in the dorms at Southern. However, I can’t condone dirty talk in the halls.”

  “What are you now, the Halo House RA?”

  “An interesting item came up. Coralee’s holding a board meeting this morning at Halo House to announce her self-promotion to CEO of Meemaw’s Tea.”

  “Not surprising, although in poor taste, as they hadn’t buried her mother or sister.”

  “Have y’all found the will yet?”

  “The alleged missing will is part of an active investigation.”

  “I take that as a no. According to Coralee’s daughter, Pris, they arrived on the fourth. Did you know about that?” I waited for a moment in radio silence. “I can hear your wheels turning, but your jaw needs oil. Care to comment, Deputy Harper?”

  “No comment.”

  “No comment as in you didn’t know?”

  “No comment as in you’re close to interfering in an active investigation. I can’t let anything leak or it could be used against us.”

  The dial tone told me I wouldn’t get to know Coralee’s tire report.

  My brain percolated faster than Halo House’s Mr. Coffee machines. And I felt just as wired. Molly answered the door in a fuzzy pink robe. Surprised she wasn’t yet dressed, I feared the accumulated stress had taken its toll. I wanted to hug her, but she hung back.

  “What can I do for you, Cherry?”

  “I heard Coralee wants you to take minutes at a meeting today.” I patted her hand. “But don’t worry. I offered to do it for you. Is there a form you use or do you write down what everyone says? I thought you could help me.”

  “I could give you an example. Let me see if I can find one in the files.”

  Following her inside, I waited in the living area and she continued into the back hall. The sad-eyed porcelain children smiled at me. I wondered if the Precious Moments artist ever had to teach drawing to elderly sex maniacs.

  I turned my mind from the business of art and picked up the framed photo of the sisters. The pair were similar in appearance, but what about in personality? Della and Coralee also looked similar, but one had gone into business and the other had run away.

  Could one sister replace another like Coralee hoped? That could be the reason she didn’t return to Iowa with her inheritance and leave the Meemaw’s Tea people to sort thin
gs out for themselves. Besides family dynamics, the money and the power made for a powerful siren call. Her mother and sister had been powerful enough to frighten grown men like David Wells.

  Molly’s footsteps plodded in the hall. I returned the picture frame and pivoted to meet her.

  “Here.” She handed me a sheaf of papers. “I printed off a meeting. It should give you a template.”

  I glanced at the top sheet and noted the date. “Was this your last meeting?”

  “It was the last before—” She gazed at the photo I had set down. “I retired.”

  “I know that’s when you lost your sister.” I nodded toward the picture. “I’m sorry to bring up those memories. Thanks for this.”

  “Thank you for helping.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe. “I guess you better get back to Coralee before she comes looking for you.”

  I walked to Belvia’s apartment, reading through the report. The format was easy enough. Della was among those who had attended, naturally. Curiously, Belvia had been absent. I skimmed the Chief Executive’s report (read by Molly), the boring Finance Committee’s record, and slowed at the Board Development Committee’s minutes.

  Lisa Russell had stated that “upon the retirement of Belvia Brakeman, if Della’s named CEO, a COO from outside the company should be hired.”

  Della had disagreed with hiring from outside because she felt there were “good candidates from within.” David Wells agreed with Della and offered to throw his hat in the ring for COO.

  Aha, I thought. Lisa Russell is consistent in her assertiveness, but the bear lover is not as wishy-washy as he pretends.

  Lisa Russell had continued, “Upon Belvia’s retirement, the timing would also be good to take Meemaw’s Tea public.” She’d also cited a study on the price of share values with forecasts for future prices based on an initial public offering.

  My eyes bounced on the number, wondering how many shares everyone already had. If Lisa Russell’s estimation was close, these people could buy their own tea companies.

  Della had disputed the numbers though. “A rival company would more easily manage a buy-out if we went public. Belvia and I won’t sell. When she retires, Belvia intends to keep her shares, except for those given to me by right as CEO. My mother always intended to keep Meemaw’s Tea a Brakeman family company, not a public corporation.”

  A motion to form a selection committee for a new COO was seconded and passed.

  Despite Della’s protests, a motion to form a research committee for converting Meemaw’s Tea status from private to public was seconded and passed.

  From what Belvia had intimated, I could read between the lines of the report and imagined the heated debate that had taken place. The board members must have waited until Belvia was absent to discuss these sensitive topics. Della had fought them, but the hawks had already begun circling.

  Belvia’s apartment looked like an ad for Men’s Warehouse, except the room teemed with suited women. Besides Wally, who did not wear a suit, Harry Hunt—the lawyer, not butler—and David Wells comprised the few men. David Wells wore the dagger stare honed on Lisa Russell as his fashion statement.

  I don’t think Lisa Russell noticed.

  “Where have you been?” Coralee hissed. “Wally had to get the donuts.”

  “Free help is hard to find,” I reminded her. “I was at Molly’s, learning how to take minutes.”

  She eyed the paper in my hand and snatched it.

  Bereaved or not bereaved, I’d have snatched that report back. But I had promised Uncle Will no public displays of anything that would draw negative attention to myself—and therefore him—and this room abounded in important members of Forks County.

  Meaning voters.

  Coralee glanced at the report and blanched. “Why would Molly give you this? These minutes are highly confidential.”

  Several heads turned our way. Lisa Russell raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

  Coralee lowered her voice. “Did you read this?”

  I shrugged. Like I cared what happened in a corporate board meeting. Although I did, because it might point to Della and Belvia’s murder.

  Or suspicious deaths, if you’re more technically minded.

  “Molly thought I could use it as a template,” I said.

  Coralee rammed the report inside a leather folder. “Of all the stupid...Just sit in the corner and take notes.”

  I ambled to the couch, grabbed a sketchbook and pencil from my messenger bag, and settled in to watch the show. If Coralee was so gol’darn worried about what I read in those minutes, why ask me to take notes at another “highly confidential” meeting?

  Made me wonder if Coralee had the intelligence to murder her sister and mother. She certainly had the gumption. And the audacity.

  Also the insensitivity.

  I’d have to ask Luke if those traits made for a good killer or just made me want Coralee to be the perp since I didn’t like her.

  That would be disappointing.

  Reaching for a donut, I elbowed my messenger bag and knocked it over. Pencils, brushes, and other items fell on the floor and rolled beneath the couch. I dropped to my knees, slid my hand beneath the couch, and felt for my supplies. My finger grazed something small and smooth next to the fat sofa foot. It stuck. I bumped the leg, then dragged the object toward me. I thought a wayward eraser had gotten stuck beneath the leg, but I pulled out a partially flattened capsule. Half cobalt green and half cream. Someone’s medicine? Belvia was careful. And the apartment looked spotless.

  I shoved the pill into my bag and pushed up on the couch, swiping my hand beneath the foot. This time, I rescued a green half-shell of the pill. Also flattened.

  “What are you doing?” Coralee’s voice blared over my shoulder.

  I glanced up, my fingers closing over the half pill. “I knocked over my bag. Everything spilled under the couch.”

  “Leave it.” Coralee bent over. “I’ll have a cleaning service in here later. They can set aside your things.”

  Poking my hand into my bag, I dropped the half-capsule to the bottom. “Gotta wash my hands.”

  In the bathroom, I locked the door, turned on the water, and opened the medicine cabinet. With everything marked for Belvia’s blindness, it only took a few seconds to open the few medicine bottles for a pill comparison. I crouched underneath the sink, searching the shelves. Eye drops, lidocaine patches, osteoporosis tablets, Metamucil, aspirin, and other over-the-counter painkillers.

  No green and ecru capsules.

  Someone had been medicating in Belvia’s living room. In his evidence search, Luke hadn’t found any pills. Although they had been partially stuck beneath the sofa leg. This was no carry-in-your-purse-in-case-you-get-the-sniffles-or-a-headache pill. A half-capsule meant they either cut the medicine or dissolved it into something else.

  For themselves? Or for Belvia?

  A knock sounded on the bathroom door. I shut the cabinets and cut off the water, then turned the latch.

  Wally stood in the doorway. “They’re ready to start.”

  “Alrighty.”

  “Good thing they got the bathroom door back on, right?”

  “Yep.” I studied him for a minute. Had Wally been medicating in Belvia’s living room? His eyes looked cloudy. Coralee had asked Pris to get his prescription.

  “Find anything interesting under the couch? Loose change? Gold coins? An earring?”

  “I didn’t find any earrings.” I slipped around him and returned to the sofa. Someone had set my bag on top. I glanced inside and saw my sketch detritus had been tossed inside.

  Before I could fish for the capsules, Coralee caught my eye. I pulled my hand from my bag and placed it in my lap. Coralee had sent Wally to retrieve me. If she had seen the pills in my bag, I wouldn’t
draw attention to them. I’d turn them over to the sheriff before I showed them to Coralee, victim’s daughter or not.

  My resolve had returned. My gut felt Belvia had been correct. Someone had wanted her dead.

  I couldn’t wait to find out if those green and cream pills had caused her heart attack.

  Twenty-Two

  From the couch’s corner, I doodled board members’ faces while Coralee called the meeting to order.

  “Coralee,” said Harry Hunt. “I realize you’re representing the Brakemans, but you still need to follow procedure.”

  “I invited all of you and I’m running this meeting,” said Coralee. “We can do this officially after the funeral. It’s a tragedy what’s happened to my sister and my mother. But before you start talking amongst yourselves about who will take over this company, you should know it’s me. Meemaw’s Tea is a family company and it’s staying in the family.”

  The room’s atmosphere darkened as the emotional temperature dropped. A squall of righteous indignation roiled from the suits.

  There was that motive again, staring us all in the face. I took notes. For Coralee, but also for myself and the Forks County Sheriff’s Department.

  “But Coralee, we haven’t even done the reading of the will.” Harry’s voice remained gentle but firm. “Your mother’s wishes...”

  A heavy knock on the front door resulted in a group flinch.

  Wally opened the door and was pushed aside by Ron and Parker.

  “What’s going on in here?” Ron Brakeman-Newson unbuttoned his dark wool coat, revealing another smart suit. “Why wasn’t I informed there’d be a board meeting?” He pointed Parker to the couch.

  Parker took a step, then spotted me. Scowling, he plopped on the far edge.

  I scooted over to needle him. Two more people with motives and opportunity, if the pills I found were used to poison Belvia. The medicine could belong to anyone in this room. The sweet tea folks had been floating in and out of Halo House since Della’s accident. Before Della had died, they’d attended Meemaw’s Tea meetings and clandestine parleys with Belvia in her apartment. Not that I suspected any as pill poppers, but if the woman who lived here believed she might be murdered, dosing her coffee with a controlled substance would be one way to do it.