Murder in the Classic City

by Sheila S Hudson

  “I know where you live. I also have your number, Stephanie or should I say Stella? I’ll be in touch. But I’m serious, you must be careful. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to get rid of Ed Lawson and cover up it up to look like an accident,” he answered, and did I detect a fatherly tone?

  “Okay. I’ll be careful. Here’s a copy of the coroner’s report, a list of words and phrases that Ed marked in The Diva Code, plus notes about the Alewines, and all I can remember about the last time I saw Ed at Chatoog Center where he was serving time for some fraud charge. And Uncle Harry, there’s one more thing.”

  “Yes,” Uncle Harry looked into my eyes.

  “This is embarrassing. Giles doesn’t know, but Ed wrote me some letters. I made copies. I haven’t even read them all myself. Would you mind?” I was humiliated but it had to be done.

  “My dear, don’t you know that I am totally at your service?” Harry squeezed my hand and said, “Besides, I always wanted to get something on the Alewine clan. Albert, that summa’bitch cheats at cards and stole my girlfriend in eleventh grade,” Harry mumbled.

  “Well I don’t really believe Albert’s involved since he’s about ninety years old, but his son, Larry, and possibly his wife, Beth. Go on now and get to work.” I feigned cracking a whip, laughed, gathered my things and left.

  Harry blew me a kiss and returned to his poisonous darlings. His greenhouse held enough toxins to poison the state and maybe even the south. But I knew from our past discussions, that the same species that could kill could also be an ingredient for healing. It depended on the dosage.

  8

  Giles went with me to the police station to retrieve my galleys for Diva’s Revenge. Sgt. Grimes had ‘forgotten’ to return them and it had been almost a week. I played devil’s advocate with myself as to whether to let Giles and the detective in on what had transpired in Beth Alewine’s office. I relented and told Giles most of it, but neither of them knew she was at Ed Lawson’s funeral. But then they didn’t know that I attended either. And of course, mum’s the word about Uncle Harry’s involvement.

  “Here we are,” Sgt. Grimes said as he plopped down my overstuffed folder.

  “Just sign here that you are taking possession and it’s off you go,” he said. I could swear that he smiled. He didn’t hide the fact that he was glad to be shed of me and my crazy theories. As far as the authorities were concerned, Ed Lawson died of asphyxiation from a faulty ventilation system in a late model Buick.

  On our way home, Giles popped the question.

  “How would you respond to me taking a writing retreat for a few days?”

  “I don’t know. Okay, I guess. Why? Do you think that this is a good time to be leaving town? I mean with the publicity and everything,” I asked.

  “It’s impossible to finish my promotional dossier with all of this craziness about Ed, the upcoming election, your recent notoriety and all. I thought a few days of peace and quiet would be just the ticket. Doesn’t Harry have a cabin a couple of hours away that we could use? That way it won’t be too far or very expensive. What do you think?”

  “When would you go? Couldn’t you wait until after I publish Diva’s Revenge and I could go with you?”

  “I’m thinking I need the time now so I can get my dossier in order and finish the article for the Georgia Review. I’ve promised them an outline and a synopsis by January 1.”

  Giles pulled into the driveway of our colonial. He switched off the ignition and pulled me close.

  “I suppose you had better call Harry and make plans. I’ll sure miss you though,” I said.

  “I know but it will only be a few days. Already things are calming down and people forget headlines quickly. When the next big thing hits the media, we’ll be old news, and no one will even remember this.”

  Giles said this with all sincerity, but by the next day his words came true. Because the next big thing was us.

  9

  “Yes. This is Stephanie . . . Stella,” I said over the phone. It was my agent. She was so excited that she was panting.

  “Pamela, slow down. I can’t understand a word you are saying.”

  When she did slow down, it made me regret answering the telephone call. My first novel, The Diva Code, and the subsequent sequels were getting a lot of more attention since the death of Mr. Lawson.

  My story is being pitched that an ex-boyfriend (not really) reappears after many years and dies with my book clutched in his hand. At least that’s what Hollywood believes and the powers that rule the movie industry were sending some reps to follow up. Pamela Jones, my book agent, was about to have apoplexy before she could get out all the details.

  I was thrilled, scared, overjoyed, and fearful all at once. Pamela was on her way and the paparazzi people would soon follow. This was not what I bargained for. I had to reach Giles and warn him that our quiet little burg would soon be a bustling one.

  His response was not what I expected.

  “Who would you choose to play me? Ryan Gosling? George Clooney? No, he’s too old. What about Gerard Butler? I’ve always liked him.”

  “Giles. Please get a hold of yourself. We don’t even know if the movie people will be interested in my books. And if by some miracle, they buy the movie rights, it could be years and years before anything happens. There’s been no offer. All of this is rumor and conjecture, Pamela has her head in the clouds, and we’ve got bigger issues – like what about the fact that Ed may very well have been murdered?”

  My voice tone kept getting higher and higher until I caught myself. Giles gave me a startled look, took a sip of water, and went back to grading papers. After my little tirade, I went into the kitchen to start dinner, but I could swear I heard mumbling. . . something about the actor who played Captain America.

  “Of course, this means I can’t go to the cabin. What if they need me? After all I am a police consultant and considered an expert in many fields,” Giles said to no one in particular.

  If this was the tip of the iceberg, what madness would follow? The next day as I was about to get in the car and head for Uncle Harry’s place I found out.

  Shops had posted signs advertising my books. City workers were hanging banners with my picture. I couldn’t imagine what prompted this. Doris and Carol flagged me down in front of the pharmacy. Luckily there was a parking space, so I pulled in to see what all the hubbub was about.

  “Hey girls,” I called and rolled down the driver’s side window.

  “Isn’t it exciting?” Doris called out. Carol nodded and beamed at me.

  “Isn’t what exciting?” I asked and was sure I would be sorry that I did.

  “The movie. Hollywood. All of it,” Doris continued her high-pitched tone.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about, ladies,” although there was only one lady talking.

  “We saw your agent in the café; she told us all about it. We informed her that we were your inspiration for the original Diva book. She interviewed us and said that we might have a bit part in the movie when they started casting,” Doris said.

  Carol poised her lips to say something but instead just nodded an affirmation to what Doris already said.

  “Pamela is here already?” I asked.

  “Yes. She said that once the writers and film crew got here, they would begin casting for parts,” Doris said with great authority.

  “Jiminy Christmas, this is a zoo. I am the last to find out and I’m the author. I’ve got to find Pamela and put the kibosh on this madness,” I said.

  “I don’t know why. The town is so enthusiastic. It’s been quite a morale lifter. Every store has up signs and banners. The Barnes & Noble has a life size picture of you and the mall advertised that you were doing a book signing. I think it’s lovely,” Doris said.

  “Lovely,” Carol echoed.

  I scratched my head, rolled up the window and wondered who engineered all this, when, and what was I going to do about it?

  10

  As I would
have predicted Uncle Harry was in his greenhouse tinkering with his toxic trees and venomous vines. I prayed that the authorities would never get wind of his little greenhouse of death. And I am certainly not the one to inform on my greatest ally and source of all poisonous knowledge. Although I was afraid to touch anything in the entire greenhouse for fear of killing myself.

  “Harry, where are you?” I called out as I came in the front door.

  “I’m trimming the Choke Cherry and Lily-of-the-Valley plants,” he answered.

  I chucked my tote on the sofa and went straight back.

  “I didn’t know that Lily-of-the-Valley was poisonous,” I said.

  “Oh yes many of our favorite flowers are poisonous if ingested. All parts of the Lily-of-the-Valley are toxic including the red berries which may be attractive to children. If consumed even in small amounts, it can cause abdominal pain, vomiting, reduced heart rate, blurred vision, drowsiness, and red skin rashes.

  “Other poisonous blooms are buttercups, Christmas Rose, Poinsettia, Snow-on-the-Mountain, and the Morning Glory, just to name a few.”

  “Wow. Everywhere you turn there are things that can kill you. So, it’s not only obvious things like rattlesnakes, cyanide, and toadstools,” I gasped.

  “Right you are. In the kitchen and bathroom are many items that are poisonous if misused. And of course, there’s the local pharmacy with stocked with shelves of toxins. And if that’s not enough you can shop for your poison at the local hardware, liquor, or grocery store,” Harry added.

  “That’s not very cheery,” I said. “Or helpful. I need to know what can cause someone to look like they’ve been asphyxiated but indeed died of something entirely different.”

  Just then my eye caught a corner of the room full of radiant lacy blossoms. I gravitated in that direction with my hand out to touch those beauties.

  “Oooh those are pretty,” I said.

  Harry pushed my hand away quickly.

  “And deadly,” he added. Those are hemlock and oleander. Every part of them is deadly from the root to the blossom. So deadly that if quail eat the seeds, which they are immune to, and you eat the quail flesh, you would either be paralyzed or die from the results.”

  I snapped back my hand and paid attention to what Harry was saying.

  “I have narrowed down the symptoms to methanol which is distilled from fermented grain and commonly found in moonshine. If Mr. Lawson did imbibe in this homemade liquor, his body would have metabolized it as formaldehyde. That is assuming he didn’t drink antifreeze, perfume, paint remover or varnish; methanol is in those as well. It would have taken from twelve to twenty-four hours for the headache, pain, shallow respiration, cyanosis, and finally death to occur. By that time, you would be hard pressed to find any residue in the body. If methane is the culprit that killed your mystery man? Where would he get moonshine in our peaceful little community?”

  “I think I might know where,” I said. I hugged Uncle Harry. We closed the greenhouse and were going into the parlor when the doorbell rang.

  Harry answered the door and Pamela poured herself into our presence. I made the introductions and Harry offered coffee. I declined for both of us, made an excuse that we had to have a discussion, and walked Pamela out of the door. No way was she going to muscle in on my private line to Poisons Are Us.

  “Your uncle is handsome, that is for a man of his maturity,” Pamela gushed.

  “Yes, Harry is a sweetheart. But how did you find me?”

  “Simple. I asked Giles and he gave me your uncle’s address,” she said. “Giles is as excited over the movie proposition as I am.”

  “I know he is deciding what actor is to play him already and we haven’t even met with the motion picture reps or talked about anything definite,” I said.

  Pamela had a strange look in her eye.

  “Pamela Jones. What have you done?”

  “We had a very short, informal sit down this morning at the local café,” she answered.

  “Wonderful. That’s like making an announcement with a bullhorn. Everyone in town already knows more than I do. Do you realize a man died because of something he connected with someone in this town, my book, and possibly a newspaper article? What’s wrong with everyone? Has the whole town gone crazy?”

  “Stella. I mean Stephanie. I sort of made an appointment for us to meet with the director and one of the producers of this possible production. They are negotiating with the publisher for the screen rights and from where I sit it will be a sweet deal for you and to be honest for me,” Pamela was using her most persuasive tone.

  “Write down the details of when, where, and what time? Do we need to get a lawyer in on this? I have a friend. . . “

  “No need. It’s all handled,” Pamela said. She waved me away when she realized that this skirmish was won.

  “One more thing,” I said. “Don’t ever contact Harry or Giles again. This is between you and me and the powers of Hollywood. This town is rattled enough. Don’t make it worse.”

  11

  By the time I finished my directive to Pamela, we were at the end of Harry’s driveway. I could see the trucks from the radio and television stations parked all over downtown. Luckily, I had foreseen some of this and parked around the corner. Pamela, however, was not so fortunate. It would be hours before the traffic cleared enough for her to retrieve her vehicle from its illegal space.

  Pamela had a look of panic written on her forehead. I pretended not to notice. By the time she realized her predicament I had made my escape, but I realized it was only temporary.

  Because of the furor in the town, the community college had wisely cancelled class, so Giles was home furiously drafting a contract for Pamela to peruse. Why? I don’t know since there wasn’t anything tangible to negotiate.

  “Giles, we need to get Sgt. Grimes over here and share our findings. Uncle Harry has information on the murder victim that will be of use in solving the crime.”

  “Crime. What crime? Ed Lawson died of asphyxiation because the vehicle he was driving was faulty. It says so in the police report.”

  “But other things like stomach contents show he was poisoned by something containing methanol – maybe moonshine. Who makes moonshine in this area? Any idea? And more importantly why would Ed drink it? Did the one who gave it to him know it was poisoned or was it another accident?”

  “What are you saying? You know we must have some proof. We can’t just go around saying stuff and accusing people, Giles responded.

  “The notes from Ed’s copy of The Diva Code point to a mayoral candidate who has a dark secret in his/her past. It also draws implications about a missing sibling, an infant death, and several similarities between an influential family and blackmail. I think Ed’s threats were taken seriously and the only way out was to kill him and make it look like either suicide or an accident. Either way, someone is responsible and that someone lives in our neighborhood.”

  “Well when you put it like that,” Giles replied. “Stephanie, if any part of what you’ve just said is true, then you are in danger.”

  “That’s why we’ve got to read in Sgt. Grimes,” I replied.

  “Read in. You’ve been watching too many detective shows, but I get your meaning. Have you noticed anyone following you or acting suspicious?”

  “Only Pamela and she has just got on my last nerve,” I said with a chuckle, “but the media vans have her so blocked in that she won’t be a problem for a while.”

  ~

  Sgt. Grimes was just as gruff as ever. He wasn’t thrilled to see us but then I don’t think thrilled is in his vocabulary. He slurped his coffee and barely acknowledged our presence as we poured out the research Giles had done, my brief encounter with Beth Alewine, Harry’s findings, and the suspicious appearance of Ms. Alewine at Ed Lawson’s funeral. I mentioned my findings in Ed’s copy of my book but neglected to say how I acquired it. As a bonus, I produced Ed’s letters to me. I thought Giles’s eyes might drill a hole in me, but I
couldn’t conceal them any longer.

  He snatched them and sat down on the dilapidated couch in Grimes’ office and began to read. After a few minutes, he gave them back. I sincerely wondered if our marriage was over. The temperature in the room went down ten degrees.

  Still after all this Sgt. Grimes showed little interest. He downed more coffee and then spoke, “Is this part of some publicity stunt to publicize a movie?”

  “Absolutely not. There is no movie deal. I haven’t signed or agreed to anything. People have gone nuts and I didn’t have anything to do with it. I can’t say the same for my agent, Pamela Jones. She has gone a little overboard and so have other people close to me,” I looked at Giles who averted my glance.

  “Tell me about it,” Sgt. Grimes complained. “With the death of Mr. Lawson, the political campaign, and now this furor over what may or may not be a movie deal in our midst, the police can’t get much done. We’ve got traffic jams, long lines everywhere, and people jockeying for publicity for their businesses. . . you name it. This place is chaos.”

  It was true but I stifled a smile at seeing the confident Sgt. Grimes not in control. For him it was most upsetting but for the rest of us it was amusing.

  “You are right of course. But what I want to know is, do you have any information on someone selling or distributing moonshine? I know it is legal under some circumstances, but how do you supposed Ed Lawson who was only in town for a few hours got hold of some?”

  Sgt. Grimes got out of his chair and closed the door. He looked both of us in the face and said, “First of all, this conversation never happened, okay? But you and I both know there are ‘ways’ of getting anything if you know the right folks. I have an idea where the moonshine came from, but I’m wondering if it was poisoned before or after it came from this source. If I make the wrong call, my career is over and as for you two, you might as well start packing.”

  “That powerful, huh?” Giles asked.