Michael held up his hands in surrender. “Can’t argue that.”
Mollified, Betty Jean nodded toward his desk. “Your messages are under your stapler.”
“Anything important?” Michael moved over to his desk but didn’t pick up the notes.
“Miss Keane wants you to stop by her house before you go home.” Betty Jean clicked off her computer monitor. “Why don’t you tell your aunt to use your cell number?”
“I have told her that. Many times, but she has a thing against cell phones. Says we got by before everybody had a phone in their pocket, and barring an emergency, there’s absolutely no reason for the things.” Michael leaned against his desk. “Besides, she likes to talk to you. She says you are always in the know about what’s going on around Hidden Springs.”
“What is going on?” Betty Jean frowned and zipped up her purse. “I can’t believe that Geraldine is really dead. I just saw her out in the hallway yesterday. Said she had the perfect house for me if I was thinking about getting married. I don’t know where she got that idea.” She fiddled with her purse strap and settled it over her shoulder.
“You’re always thinking about getting married.” And from the way she was acting like somebody had put itch powder down her collar, it appeared she had a groom candidate in her sights.
“Thinking about something is different than doing it. You don’t see a diamond on my finger, do you?” Betty Jean held up her left hand to show no rings. “But what happened to Geraldine?”
“Looks like she fell down the stairs. Broke her neck or hit her head. Maybe both.”
“Looks like. What do you mean, looks like?” Betty Jean’s frown grew darker. “Did she fall down the steps or not?”
“I think we can safely assume she fell down the stairs. Not much doubt of that. The ones up to the top floor in the Chandler house.”
“Those are steep. I’ve been in that house. We visited Miss Fonda some when I was a little girl. Beautiful old place. I used to dream about getting married there and gliding down that lovely stairway with the train of my wedding dress spilling out behind me. Not those top-floor stairs, but the broad curving ones down from the second floor to the entrance hall.” Betty Jean sighed. “What fantasies!”
“You might still have a chance. Sonny claims he’s selling the place, come what may. Maybe a handsome stranger will buy it. A handsome, single stranger.”
“Yeah, and no doubt he’ll be up in that tower room and just happen to see me walk by and fall madly in love with me.” Betty Jean laughed.
“A fairy-tale romance.” Michael went around his desk to sit down. “Did you ever go up into the tower room?”
“No. I wanted to like everything, but Mom would never let me ask Miss Fonda if I could.” Betty Jean straightened her desk pad and picked up a stray paper clip to drop in her magnetic holder.
“I went up there today.”
“Why?” Betty Jean looked over at him.
“To make sure nobody was there.”
“You thought somebody was in the tower room?” Betty Jean raised her eyebrows with the question.
“I didn’t know. Wanted to make sure.” Michael’s chair squeaked when he leaned back.
“Was there?”
“Not then, but somebody has been up there. Recently.”
“You mean like today? When Geraldine fell?”
“Could be. Somebody called 911. Did you download the recording of the call?”
“It’s on your computer.” When Michael frowned at his monitor, Betty Jean shook her head at him. “It’s not complicated. Just click on it.” She took a quick look at the clock. “I can’t stay and pull it up for you. I need to get going.” She grabbed her sweater off her desk chair and started for the door.
“Sure.” Michael didn’t argue, even though if he figured out how to pull up the call, it would be a minor miracle. “Did you recognize the voice?”
She stopped and shook her head. “The person only spoke four words when the dispatcher asked for a response. ‘She can’t. She’s dead.’ Sounded young and scared. Probably female, but the words were sort of whispered, so not positive about that. Could be a young boy.” She pointed toward his computer. “Listen to it. You work with some of the kids at church. You might recognize the voice. Or play it for Miss Keane. She might know if it’s one of the kids in her classes out at the high school.” She shrugged her purse strap higher up on her shoulder. “Like I said, I’d stay and help you with it, but I’m meeting someone.”
“Go.” Michael waved her toward the door. “If I can’t get it to work, it can wait until Monday. It’s not like this is a murder investigation.”
“Don’t even say that word.” Betty Jean shuddered. “Accident is bad enough.”
“Accident? Somebody have an accident?” Vernon Trent poked his head in the door. “I hope not you, Betty Jean.”
Betty Jean’s face flashed pink. “Oh hello, Vernon.”
“I know you said you’d meet me out front, but I thought I’d pop in to see if you were ready to go.” He flashed a broad smile. “Hope that was all right.”
“Of course.” Betty Jean’s answering smile was a little strained, and she looked like that itch powder was working on her again. A double portion this time.
Michael studied him as he stepped past Betty Jean into the office. A nice-enough-looking guy. Not a big man, only a little taller than Betty Jean, but one of those fellows who packed a lot of punch on his compact frame. He looked like a weightlifter, but it could be the antique furniture he moved around served as weights for the man. His dark hair, sprinkled with some gray around his temples, was cut short. Army-recruit style. He had the wide smile of a salesman or maybe a politician.
Michael stood up and leaned across the desk to shake Vernon’s hand. “You two going out for dinner?”
Betty Jean gave Michael a look almost sharp enough to draw blood. It wasn’t like Betty Jean to be so nervous about her romantic possibilities. But then, he wasn’t sure she’d had any actual dates since he’d been back in Hidden Springs. Nothing but talk and no real guys coming through the door to take her somewhere. Michael narrowed his eyes a little on Trent and fought off the urge to third-degree him about his intentions.
Trent’s smile didn’t waver. “Yes sir. We’re headed to the Country Diner for their Friday night catfish special. You want to come along? The more the merrier.”
Betty Jean spoke up. “Michael has plans. Plans he can’t change.” Another pointed look.
“Sounds fun, but Betty Jean’s right. Lots to do.” He gestured toward his desk. He would have had to make plans for his own funeral if he said any different.
“Not surprising.” Trent’s smile faded away. “I just saw Hank Leland out on the street. He says Geraldine Harper is dead. An accident at the old Chandler mansion. Hard to believe.”
“Yes,” Michael said. News always traveled fast in Hidden Springs.
“I’m going to miss that Geraldine. She was a go-getter for sure.” Vernon Trent shook his head.
“We’ll all miss her, but we better hurry if we want to get a table at the Country Diner.” Betty Jean looked ready to grab the man’s arm and tug him out the door. “It’s best to get there before the tourists start showing up from the lake.”
“The girl knows.” Trent’s smile came back. He winked at Michael. “She’s volunteered to help me get some of my antiques online. Teach me some computer skills.”
“She’s a computer whiz.” Michael kept a smile on his face, even though it wanted to slide off. Something about the man bothered Michael. So much that he almost decided a fish supper was what he needed, but Betty Jean would never forgive him.
Their footsteps rang in the hall as they headed outside. Betty Jean’s chatter drifted back to Michael as he went to the door to watch them leave. He didn’t need to act like an overprotective brother. Betty Jean could take care of herself.
Michael locked the office door and went back to his desk. No sense inviting anybody
else in. Without interruptions, he might still get home before dark. He flipped through the stack of pink notes. Nothing that couldn’t be put off until Monday except Aunt Lindy. He’d go by there on his way home.
He pushed the messages aside and jotted down a few quick notes about Geraldine. The full report could wait. No reason to think her death was anything but an accident. Except for the missing caller. Young and scared could explain why they didn’t hang around until somebody came.
He turned on his computer and stared at the icons popping up. He wished he’d made it back to the office five minutes earlier so Betty Jean wouldn’t have been in such a rush to get out the door. She was definitely not excited about Michael knowing she was meeting Vernon Trent. He had to wonder about that.
He clicked several things until the computer made that irritating sound signaling he’d hit something he shouldn’t. He shut the thing off and called Sally Jo who covered the dispatch desk after office hours.
She played the recording over the phone.
“She can’t. She’s dead.”
Whispered. Scared sounding. Understandable, since the caller did sound like a kid, the way Betty Jean said, and that kid had just seen a dead body.
Michael shut his eyes and listened while Sally Jo played the words over again, but no face came to mind. After he gave up on recognizing the voice, he called Geraldine’s son and got his voice mail. Michael left his cell number.
Outside, the sun was still a ways from sinking below the horizon. After he checked on Aunt Lindy, he might yet have daylight enough to drop a line in the water off his dock. Sally Jo could reach him on his radio if she needed him.
He touched the phone in his pocket. He didn’t always have a signal inside his house, but out on the dock on a clear night, calls generally came through. He could call Alex. They hadn’t talked for almost a week.
A couple of months ago, they pledged to do better, to talk every day, to find a way to make loving each other work. He’d loved Alex forever. She claimed to love him too, but once she was back in Washington, DC, on the attorney fast track, things slipped back to not enough time and too many miles apart. She was busy. Too busy for him, he was beginning to think.
Alex said it wasn’t all her. And maybe it wasn’t. He was tied to his hometown. Roots down into the bedrock. Could he pull up those roots for the woman he loved? He’d worked in a big city once. Hated it. Came home. But it could be time to try again to live among the skyscrapers with nearly every inch of ground paved over and too many lights to see stars at night.
Thinking about that gave his heart an uneasy jolt. But the thought of giving up any chance to be with Alex split his heart in two. Sometimes there were no easy answers.
Or maybe he didn’t want to accept the easy answers. Just like with Geraldine Harper. Why not simply accept she slipped and fell? Justin thought it happened that way. But here he was doing his best to worry it into something more than just a tragic accident.
He needed to squelch his uneasy suspicions about Geraldine’s death before he got to Aunt Lindy’s. No need having her worry about another murder in Hidden Springs.
To even think the word “murder” about Geraldine was taking things to the extreme. It had to be Miss Fonda looking up from the woman’s body and saying she was dead because of this Bradley that had awakened his suspicions. But the old lady hadn’t even been talking about Geraldine.
Aunt Lindy might know about Miss Fonda’s sister. Whether she was pushed or not. Then again, the reason for her death would have been determined long ago. Miss Fonda coming to a different conclusion than the authorities didn’t change facts. People had a way of ignoring the evidence if it contradicted their ideas of what happened. He couldn’t afford to be one of those people.
He was ready to block it all out of his mind and let the sparkling lake water bring peace back to his soul. The night promised to be clear. Looking up at the moon and stars in a night sky had a way of making a man remember life was a gift and not a guarantee. A gift this man wanted to treasure.
When his phone jangled awake in his pocket, he looked for a place to pull over. He didn’t want to be driving while he broke the news to a man that his mother was dead. But it wasn’t Geraldine’s son. Instead Aunt Lindy’s name flashed on the screen. Not good. Not if she was actually calling his cell. The turn for her street was in sight, but he punched the on button anyway.
He didn’t bother with hello. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t waste words either. “It’s Reece. That’s why I wanted you to come by. When I came in from school, he was out sweeping leaves off his walkway. Didn’t look good. Face too red.”
“That was a couple of hours ago.” Michael’s hand tightened on the phone.
“Yes, but I just came back over here to check on him. He’s not making sense and his mouth is drooping on one side. I fear he’s having a stroke.”
“Call the ambulance.”
“It’s on the way. But somebody needs to go with him. That somebody will have to be us with Alexandria hours away. We’ll have to fill in as family until she can get here.”
“Right. I’m almost there.” Michael disconnected the call.
Sirens screamed the ambulance’s progress through town, and the lights were in sight by the time Michael braked in front of Reece Sheridan’s house. Reece and Aunt Lindy had been neighbors since before Michael was born. When she was a kid, Alex visited her aunt and uncle every summer. That was when Michael had fallen in love with the girl next door, even if she was next door only a few weeks out of the year.
7
Malinda Keane let out a relieved breath at the sight of Michael’s patrol car. He’d know what to do. Well, she had known what to do. She’d done that at once when Reece opened the door and said, “Hello morning.” Morning was long past.
Way past the morning time of their lives too. Reece was seventy-one if she was doing the math right, and she always did the math right. She knew numbers, but sometimes those age numbers surprised her. Not because she couldn’t do the math but because of how swiftly the years had flipped by. A couple of years ago, she’d stared sixty square in the face. People told her she should retire. Live the good life. Travel to Europe. Tend her roses. Read till her eyes crossed.
Be nothing but an old lady with a cat. She had the cat, but she didn’t have to be the old lady. She would retire from teaching when they made her or when she could no longer do the math. Not one minute before. A person needed a purpose in life, and the Bible gave honor to teachers. That might be teachers of Scripture and not math, but a person needed to know numbers too. Plenty of numbers in the Bible.
Reece hadn’t retired either. At least not completely. He went to his office almost every weekday. Picked and chose his clients, but he was still practicing law. When he wasn’t fishing.
She looked at him in his recliner. At least she’d convinced him to sit down. The man had aged in the last year. She supposed she had too. A person couldn’t deny forever how the years added up. And then with all that had happened here in Hidden Springs the last couple of years, it was no wonder she often felt her age.
Reece hadn’t wanted her to call the ambulance. Said he was fine. A little tired but fine. That was what he intended to say anyway. If his words hadn’t gotten jumbled up. Obviously they didn’t sound jumbled up in his ears.
She told him straight out he must be having a stroke. That got his attention. Nobody wanted to have a stroke. When a body reached a certain age, the threat of infirmity or dementia had a way of lying in wait to make a person question every wobbly step or forgetful moment. Malinda prayed each day the Lord would take her home before she lost her ability to reason. She had no doubt Reece felt the same. The concerned look on his face now told the story.
After Adele died ten years ago, some of Malinda’s lady friends thought she and Reece should start keeping company. But it wasn’t an idea either she or Reece favored. That would have done nothing but spoil a lifelong friendship. The ones they wanted
to get together were Michael and Alexandria. Those two were meant for each other. They were simply too stubborn to make room for love in their lives. Surely a sorrowful thing.
Much worse than how she’d loved and lost when she was young. Hanley had gone to the service with every intention of coming back to Hidden Springs to settle down with her, but he’d always been something of a risk taker. After all, he had risked loving her. His helicopter went down in Vietnam. So many brave boys died in those jungles. Reece had come out better. He and dear Adele had many good years together before cancer stole her away.
“Michael’s here, and I hear the ambulance.” Malinda put her hand on Reece’s shoulder.
“You and everybody and his brother,” Reece grumbled. “Entirely unsavory. Every bucket of it.”
His words were a little slurred and a dribble of saliva rolled down his chin. Malinda considered dabbing it off and thought better of it. He was unhappy enough with her already. She’d let Michael handle it.
Dear Michael. It was so good to have him right here in Hidden Springs. They had been through so much together. His weeks in a coma when he was a teen after the auto accident that killed both of his parents. His slow recovery. The tragedy of all that story. But now he was strong and healthy.
She thanked the Lord for Michael’s life every day. Michael thought she was the one who brought him back from near death, but his waking from the coma was the Lord’s doing. Not hers. The Lord had work for Michael to do. What that was, Malinda didn’t know. She wasn’t concerned about it. She’d lived enough years and struggled through enough challenges to know the Lord often had a different timetable for things than she did.
Sometimes that was the hardest thing to accept. The Lord’s timing. Dear Lord, please don’t let it be Reece’s time.
Glen Andrews and Gina Peak followed Michael in, carrying their bags. They overfilled the room, sucking the ordinary right out of the day. One look was all they needed to send Glen rushing back out for the stretcher. Time mattered with strokes and they were a good half hour from the Eagleton Hospital, even with the sirens screaming.
Murder Is No Accident Page 5
