Millicent seemed pensive. “Why, he probably did leave us all a little something, I’m sure. My brother wasn’t a vindictive man. And there are a few photographs I would love to have.”
Ida Lynn forcefully withdrew her hand from Millicent’s grasp. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. How do we know if he had any money left? That Miller boy could have stolen from him or the cancer could have used up everything. Cancer is an expensive disease.”
Millicent gasped. “Why, I never thought of that, Ida Lynn.” She turned to Candace. “But despite all our family issues, I loved my brother. Money is the last thing on my mind right now.”
“I am assuming Mr. Jeffrey left a will. Either of you know where it might be?” Before they could answer, I recognized the familiar sound of Candace’s text message signal. “Excuse me.” She pulled the phone from her pocket, read the text and set her cell down on the desk. I heard frustration in her voice when she said, “I have a couple more interviews scheduled and both folks arrived at the same time.” She glanced back and forth between Ida Lynn and Millicent. “The will? Where can we find it?”
Millicent and Ida Lynn exchanged glances that indicated they were clueless and Millicent confirmed this by saying, “Why, I have no idea. A bank? Or perhaps with his attorney, whoever that might be.”
Candace sighed heavily. “Find out if you can and we’ll do the same. But you two ladies need to realize murder is far more serious than any family feud or dispute over money. I expect you both back here tomorrow, ready to tell me the truth about why you’ve been estranged from each other, and why you’ve had so little contact over the years with Mr. Jeffrey. I have to rule out family hostility as a motive. And just so you know, you won’t be together when you talk to me.”
I wondered why Candace said this last part, but decided maybe she expected these two women to talk and get their stories straight, that perhaps this estrangement had been an act and these two had something to do with the murders. If their stories tomorrow matched up too perfectly—or not at all—Candace would be more suspicious than she was right now.
She stood and the rest of us did as well. Ida Lynn, who I guessed was the older, rose with the most difficulty, but she swatted away Millicent’s attempt to help her. She certainly was feisty and her behavior had me withholding a smile.
“Tom, could you stay, please?” Candace asked.
“Sure.” He touched my arm. “See you later, okay?”
I glanced between Candace and Tom. “There’re a couple things I need to tell you both, but I can text you.”
I followed the cousins down the hall, feeling like a border collie herding reluctant cattle back to the barn.
Millicent led the way, but she stopped dead in the hallway on seeing the two men in the waiting area. One was her son, Dirk, and the other had enough of a family resemblance—same nose as Ida Lynn and small blue eyes similar to Millicent’s—that I figured this was the last of the cousins.
Ida Lynn confirmed this by saying, “Why, Wayne, you dragged yourself away from the television long enough to come down here?”
“Not good to see you, either, Ida Lynn,” the man replied, sounding as testy as his sister. “The fashion police finally arrested you, I see.”
Wayne was tall and lean. A gray fringe of hair surrounded his balding head and I surmised he was the youngest of the family—excluding Dirk. Wayne was maybe in his early sixties, perhaps five or ten years younger than his sister, Ida Lynn.
Dirk offered me a nervous smile. I wondered if he was downright frightened to see the majority of his family all in one place. From what I’d witnessed and listened to over the last hour between the two women, I couldn’t blame him. What would Mr. Jeffrey’s funeral be like if everyone—including LouAnn—got together? That was, if they could sit down and actually plan a funeral without Ida Lynn being, well, Ida Lynn, and Millicent putting on the “I’m a Southern lady” act. Because clearly it was an act, which only made me wonder what she was really like.
Millicent walked through the gate and held her arms out to Wayne as she had done with Ida Lynn. He actually embraced her, though their exchange seemed brief and tense. No love lost there, either, I decided.
B.J., who had been on the phone, said, “Deputy Carson says you two gentlemen can go on back. Last door on the left.”
Dirk kissed his mother on the cheek and actually smiled at Ida Lynn as he passed her. She didn’t return the warmth—but then, I wondered if Ida Lynn was capable of warmth. Perhaps she was more capable of evil.
Wayne walked by me without a glance. The sight of Ida Lynn and Millicent together may have grabbed all his attention.
Now what? I wondered once the men were gone and the three of us stood in front of B.J.’s desk. My hand immediately went to my pocket and the comfort I knew I would find there. I took out my phone. “Would you two like to see Clyde?”
Ida Lynn glanced at her watch. “Not really. It’s nearly suppertime. What I would like, young lady, is an early meal before I return home. Where should we go to eat?”
We? As in the three of us? Wow. This ought to be almost as fun as the last couple hours. These two were perhaps the strangest people I’d ever met, and now one of them was inviting me to socialize with her and a cousin she obviously couldn’t stand. Or did she want to gain something from our sitting down together? For instance, more information than had been provided about Mr. Jeffrey’s death.
“We could all go back to the Pink House,” Millicent suggested. “They have excellent food where we’re staying.” She looked at me. “And you can show us your pictures of Clyde. I am so happy he is unharmed, and I would love to make arrangements to take him with me when we are ready to leave town.”
As if Shawn would allow that to happen. How I wanted to bail on this offer and go home to the comfort of the cats. But if these two women got together without a third party present, what would happen? We might have another murder.
On the other hand, I thought, perhaps all of their bickering is an act. If I didn’t go with them, these ladies would have a chance to get their stories straight for the next interview. Or maybe they’d already been in contact and had agreed to avoid any questions from the police that pointed a guilty finger at either of them. As weary of them as I was, I could learn plenty if I asked the right questions.
Reluctantly I said, “The Pink House seems like a fine choice to me.”
But Ida Lynn was a “last word” person and having the last word in choosing a restaurant was no different. “Since I have to travel the farthest home, I believe we should go to McCluskey’s. It’s between here and Woodcrest. They open early for supper to accommodate seniors. I’ll lead the way.”
And with that, she walked out the office door, her gait still unsteady thanks to her ridiculous shoes.
Following behind the two older women, I took the opportunity to text both Candace and Tom before we left the courthouse parking lot, since both women definitely needed extra time getting into their vehicles. I asked Tom to call Birdie about setting up security at her house and mentioned Birdie’s concerns about the sheriff’s finding a gun and drugs in Buford’s room to both Tom and Candace. Why hadn’t I thought to text Tom in the first place? But I knew the answer. Any moment I could steal with him, any conversation, no matter how small, made me feel more confident that I could help find out who killed the two men. Despite the difficulties Ida Lynn and Millicent presented, I felt capable of dealing with them. In fact, I was probably the right person for the job. I’d been raised by my grandparents and knew that seniors are wise. These two, though contentious, were no different. Yes, I could handle them and hopefully learn useful information to help solve these crimes.
I followed their two cars as we made the slow drive down the highway leading to McCluskey’s. Once we arrived, I saw wooden rocking chairs lining a long front porch, giving the rustic-looking restaurant an inviting warmth. The place was known for Southern-style food and enormous portions. The smell of yeast rolls and fried chicken made my mo
uth water before we’d even been seated. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.
Red-checkered cloths covered each table and country sayings were painted on square wooden planks that hung on the walls—things like, “You have two choices for dinner—take it or leave it,” and “I was weaned on cornbread and iced tea.” The waiters and waitresses wore old-time country outfits—waitresses with white aprons over brown dresses, and waiters in brown vests and cowboy boots. The place had a perfect down-home Southern ambiance. Although both my dinner companions were definitely oddballs, the restaurant’s atmosphere settled me. Thank goodness Ida Lynn left her hat and gloves in her ancient Lincoln; maybe that meant I wouldn’t need to be on my toes hunting for any other clues she was off her rocker. I could concentrate instead on the conversation and what I might glean to pass on to Candace and Tom.
After we ordered and the waitress placed huge glasses of sweet tea in front of us, Millicent said, “I’d love to see your photo of Clyde. I do miss that boy.”
At least she’s interested in him, I thought. But when I showed her my phone, she seemed surprised when she saw Clyde and Chablis cuddled together.
“You recorded this?” she asked.
“No, that’s live,” I replied. “I have cameras so I can check up on my feline friends when I’m not home.”
Ida Lynn, who was sitting next to Millicent, pulled the phone in her direction so she could see, too. She squinted at the screen. “How absurd. Why would you need to see them? They’re animals. They do what animals do when you’re not around. Sleep and eat.”
I decided no answer was the best answer. She’d never understand how upset I’d been when Syrah had been abducted nor how much comfort these live pictures offered me.
Millicent tugged the phone away from Ida Lynn and stared at the screen. “When I return home, I will most certainly take Clyde with me.”
I sure didn’t want to get into that right now. She’d lost him once, and unless Mr. Jeffrey had left specific instructions in his will about his cat, I was certain Shawn would fight to keep Clyde in Mercy. If she was determined to have him, though, it might be a losing battle—Mr. Jeffrey had sent the big kitty to live with her once already.
When I didn’t respond to Millicent, she handed my phone back and voiced my thoughts. “Norm did want him to be with me, after all.”
“And,” Ida Lynn said haughtily, “you allowed the cat to get out the door, only to be found months later. Your negligence was shown to the rest of the world on national television and I can only take comfort that Norm was not alive to see that spectacle.”
“I will be so careful next time. He is a very quick cat, you know.”
Since Clyde had escaped from my house as well, I decided I shouldn’t judge what had happened on Hilton Head. He was one speedy and determined feline. Still, I wondered if Millicent had it in her to be careful. She seemed so . . . disengaged. Even now, in this off-the-beaten-path restaurant, her eyes moved around the room as if someone more important might show up who would require her full attention.
“We’ll see what happens with the cat. I doubt you can hang on to him, and if Clyde gets lost again, Norm will turn over in his grave.” Seemed Ida Lynn was even more skeptical than I was about Millicent. They’d known each other for years and had probably been childhood friends—childhood friends who knew many secrets about each other.
It was time to find out why everyone in this family was so at odds. After I took one last look at my kitties on the phone, I set it facedown on the table. “Back at the police station, I heard plenty of innuendo about family problems. What was Mr. Jeffrey’s part in all that?”
Of course Ida Lynn spoke first. “He tried to make peace between us and finally he just gave up.” She looked into Millicent’s eyes. “You know he’d be quite happy to see us breaking bread together.”
Millicent smiled. “He would, indeed.” She switched her dreamy gaze to me. “It all happened so many years ago.”
I smiled at her. “What happened, Mrs. Boatman?”
“Oh, please call me Millicent, dear. And you truly are a dear.”
“Thank you, but—”
Ida Lynn broke in with, “Get on with it, Millicent. The police girl will be asking you the same thing tomorrow, so why not practice your storytelling skills? Tell her how LouAnn stole Oliver away from you.”
Millicent blinked several times and returned my smile. “It’s true. She stole the love of my life.”
I tried not to seem surprised, though I was. “And she ended up marrying Oliver?”
“Yes indeed. Sweet, handsome Oliver.” She gazed past me as if staring back into the past.
“And you never forgave LouAnn?”
“The whole thing divided us, you see.” For the first time since I’d met Millicent, I could tell she was being sincere.
“Divided you and LouAnn?” I asked.
“At first. But then Norm supported LouAnn rather than me, and Wayne was so busy using drugs and getting arrested, we were all fed up with him. Only Ida Lynn stood by me . . . for a while.” She glanced at Ida Lynn and then quickly looked away.
What else happened? Still, this news about LouAnn astounded me and it was all I could focus on. Sad, lonely LouAnn was at the center of these family woes? And her dead husband, whom she mourned so utterly, was the love of Millicent’s life? This sounded like they’d watched one too many episodes of The Guiding Light when they were young. “Sounds like plenty of trouble. Tell me more about what happened.”
But before either of them could answer, my worst nightmare plopped into the empty chair beside me. “I got lost. Unfamiliar territory, but I guess I stayed on the right road because I spotted Jillian’s minivan in the parking lot.” Emily smiled. “So, here I am.”
Eighteen
“And exactly who are you?” Millicent said—sounding much less haughty than Ida Lynn had when she’d asked the same question earlier.
But Ida Lynn practically dissected Emily with her scowl. “Keep your mouth shut, Millicent. She’s the press.” The amount of loathing she added to that last word was remarkable. I wondered if Ida Lynn had done any acting.
“Do Wayne and LouAnn know the three of you are talking about them behind their backs? Because I couldn’t help but overhear.” Emily’s tone sounded innocent enough, sweet almost, but there was no doubt in my mind she wanted to stir the pot by mentioning the relatives.
I stood, lifting Emily by her elbow. “You promised to wait on this and let me be the go-between. Now, stand behind your word and please leave these ladies alone.”
Emily shrugged off my grip and nodded at Millicent. “I didn’t promise her anything.”
“Do I have to call Deputy Carson to send an officer?” I hadn’t intended to raise my voice, but Emily Nguyen was wearing on my last nerve. She kept showing up everywhere I went.
A restaurant employee with the name tag PAUL had apparently been hovering nearby and overheard me say the word officer. He rushed to our table. “Is there a problem?”
“Nope,” Emily said quickly. “I was just leaving. But I’ll be seeing all three of you soon, I’m sure.” She pointed at Millicent. “Especially you. Love that color dress with your eyes, by the way.”
She hurried out the door with Paul making certain she got to her car. I eased back into my chair.
Turned out the restaurant gave us a free cheesecake dessert for the “upset” Emily caused. The food was delicious—I had chicken and dumplings—but Emily’s unexpected arrival shut both women down. I didn’t learn another thing about anyone in the family, including Mr. Jeffrey. Millicent and Ida Lynn created tag-team deflection of my every question.
When dinner ended and I was finally on my way home, I reflected on my earlier thought that once upon a time those two had been as close as sisters. Yup, decades ago, they’d no doubt survived interrogation by suspicious parents on more than one occasion.
This conclusion made me more determined to find out just what other events might have happened
over the years—especially Ida Lynn and Millicent’s estrangement—and why the disruption in their relationships lasted so long. Two men were dead, after all—and one or all of these relatives knew things they weren’t saying.
Three happy kitties greeted me when I arrived home, putting my thoughts of family secrets aside. But when I realized I didn’t see Clyde sitting at the back door waiting along with Syrah, Merlot and Chablis, I panicked.
I ran into the living room and switched the television screen to my monitoring channel. Clyde wore his GPS collar. I could find him. After all, he hadn’t been gone that long and—
I felt a nudge against my calf and a sleepy-eyed Clyde offered up one of his deep-throated meows. I knelt and petted both his cheeks with the backs of my hands, and he began to purr. “You scared me, buddy.”
Soon I was surrounded by my three jealous cats, all vying for attention—and of course for a meal. As soon as all of them were happily enjoying their individual bowls of Fancy Feast, I realized I was exhausted. Ida Lynn and Millicent were a challenge and I needed to recharge if I planned to throw more questions about the family at the two of them.
I’d texted Tom with my whereabouts earlier and he’d replied with one word: interesting. But dinner with the two women turned out to be a bit of a disappointment thanks to Emily Nguyen. Something had to be done about her unexpectedly showing up and inserting herself into this investigation. I was beginning to think we had the GPS collar on the wrong mammal.
When Tom arrived at my house close to nine p.m., my first question after he kissed me in greeting was, “Can you put a GPS tracker on Emily Nguyen’s car? Or is that illegal?”
Tom settled next to me on the couch; I’d been watching a rerun of Seinfeld so I could revive myself with a few laughs. But now he was the one who laughed.
“Are you serious?”
“She keeps popping up.” I went on to explain about the dinner I’d shared with the cousins. “When I thought about Clyde’s collar, I wanted to buy one for her.”
He grinned. “Putting a collar on her would be a little obvious, Jilly, don’t you think?”
The Cat, the Vagabond and the Victim: A Cats in Trouble Mystery Page 13
