Death of a Cantankerous Old Coot (Lizzie Crenshaw Mysteries)

by Teresa Watson

  “Are there any women there?”

  “A few. They serve drinks. Some even sit and talk to the men, offer them a sympathetic ear if they want to complain about their nagging wives.”

  T.J. shook his head. “Unbelievable. Didn’t you say that one of the men from the hardware store was spending time at Trixie’s establishment?”

  “Crandall Martin,” I confirmed. “Andrea is Crandall’s wife. He spends two or three nights a week out there talking to Trixie about his wife, who is the biggest nag in town. I can’t blame him for spending time out there.”

  “Will Trixie confirm his alibi?”

  “I’m not sure. She does promise the men who visit the club that nothing they say will leave the building. Her girls sign confidentiality agreements and undergo extensive background checks before Trixie hires them.”

  “If she can’t confirm Crandall’s alibi, then he might have a problem.”

  “She’s not going to talk to the police, not even her brother. If her clients knew she was talking to them in an official capacity, it could hurt her business.”

  “Would she talk to someone who wasn’t a police officer?” he asked.

  I finished my water and threw the bottle in my recycle basket. “I don’t know. You’d have to find someone willing to go talk to her for you.”

  T.J. put his bottle in the basket and followed me outside. “So, what was your problem with Amos Gardner?”

  My back stiffened as I turned around. “Are you asking me in an official capacity or from curiosity?”

  “Do I need to ask you officially?” he replied. “Or is it some state secret?”

  I walked over to the shed and grabbed a chisel and hammer. “Let’s take the shutters off first before we paint,” I said, handing him the tools. We worked in silence as we removed the shutters. After stirring the paint and pouring it in the trays, I started painting one side of the shed while T.J. took the other.

  I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell T.J. my problems with Amos, and in all honesty, it wasn’t my problem originally. “Where are you from, T.J.?”

  “Chicago.”

  “How did you end up in Texas? You’re a bit far from home.”

  “I spent some time at Fort Hood when I was in the Army,” he replied, “and I decided to move here after I served my time.”

  “Do you have any family in Chicago?”

  “My parents still live there. My younger sister goes to the University of Illinois, and my brother just finished basic training with the Marines. What about your family?”

  “My parents live here. I’m an only child.”

  T.J. stirred the paint again before pouring more. “So why did you decided to become a writer?”

  “I’ve always loved to tell stories to entertain my friends,” I said. “I would write short stories on the back of my homework papers. It just seemed like the logical thing to do.”

  “Writers don’t make much when they are first starting out, though, do they? So how can you afford this house?”

  “I inherited it from my grandmother when she passed away a few years ago.”

  “So you’re independently wealthy, which allows you to follow your passion.”

  I came around the corner and stared at him. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

  “Let what go?” he asked innocently.

  “Obviously, we’re going to play twenty questions until you get the answers you want. Why don’t you just ask Owen? He knows the truth.”

  “Because I’m asking you.”

  “Fine. If I answer your question about my problems with Amos, will you let it go so we can enjoy the rest of the afternoon?” He nodded. “This land and this house used to belong to him, years ago. He was married to someone else, before his marriage to Earline. Consider it an upgrade to a younger model. In order for him to get a divorce from his first wife, he had to give up the house, the land and a lot of money. It was a decision he regretted every day of his life. There used to be more land, but she sold it, mainly because she knew how much he wanted it. There was oil here at one time, and she made sure she got a share of the profits from the new owner.”

  T.J. whistled. “That must have made Amos furious.”

  “It did,” I said. “When she died, he went to the people who had bought the land in an effort to buy it back. The owners refused to sell. They had an agreement in place that the land could only be sold back to the woman’s granddaughter.”

  “So Amos had children with his first wife?”

  I nodded. “A daughter. Amelia Renee Gardner. She didn’t want the house or the land, so she bequeathed it to Amelia’s child, Elizabeth Renee. Amos hired a team of lawyers to fight the will, but it was ironclad. So he went after his own granddaughter.”

  “Was he still trying to get the land from her when he died?”

  “Yes.”

  “So this would give her a perfect motive for murder.”

  “Yes, I suppose it would, if she were so inclined to kill him.”

  “So, you bought the house from the granddaughter?”

  I looked at him. “I am the granddaughter.”

  Chapter 8

  “You don’t seem too upset that he’s dead,” T.J. said.

  “What do you want me to do? Cry and tear my clothes? He’s not worth the energy. Not every grandchild thinks his or her grandparent hung the moon,” I replied, picking up my paintbrush.

  “No, I don’t expect you to do that, but you seem to be rather matter-of-fact about the whole thing.”

  “Oh, so now I’m cold & calculating.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you implied it. Yes, he was my grandfather, but he didn’t act like it. He was a jerk. Who sues their granddaughter, for Pete’s sake?”

  “And you found the body.”

  “Going to ask me for an alibi next, Deputy? I was home, alone, all night. Maybe you should go.”

  “But we aren’t done yet”

  “With the shed or the interrogation?” He looked flustered. “Go tell Owen what I said. I know he wants a full report on our conversation.”

  He dropped the paintbrush in the tray. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I didn’t come here to question you.”

  “It’s ok. Just go,” I said, walking to the other side of the shed. I could tell he wanted to say something else, but he just walked off. Owen would get an earful from me the next time I saw him.

  T.J. drove back to the station, thinking about everything Lizzie had told him. The sheriff’s sister was running a house of ill repute and the granddaughter of the victim was a suspect. He was sure Owen knew about her contentious relationship with Amos, so why did he send T.J. out there to question her?

  He parked in the back of the station, walked inside and went straight to the sheriff’s office. Owen was sitting at his desk, his cowboy boots propped up on the edge. “Yes, William, I agree that a murder in the middle of the town square is a bit disconcerting. I wouldn’t worry about the tourists being scared away, considering the fact that we don’t get any around here. No, I’m not being patronizing. The state crime lab is helping. Why? Because we don’t have a crime lab, William, and if I remember correctly, at the last city council meeting, you wanted to cut my budget. I will be handling the investigation, not the state police. Yes, William, I assure you I will be discreet and not upset any citizen. You have my word. I have to go now. One of my deputies just walked in.” He hung up and looked at T.J.. “He has been squawking at me for an hour about how this murder makes the town look bad. He wants it solved quickly, without ruffling anyone’s feathers.”

  “Too late for that,” T.J. retorted.

  Owen grinned. “I take it you got an earful from Lizzie Crenshaw.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t appreciate the position you put me in with her. She’s not stupid; she knew why you sent me out there.”

  “You remember one thing: you work for me. You’ll go where I tell you to go, and question whom I tell you to ques
tion,” Owen reminded him. “Now, what did she tell you?”

  “Probably everything you already know. Why didn’t you mention that Amos Gardner was her grandfather?”

  “It’s not something that she talks about. In a small town, it’s somewhat hard to avoid family members who are a disgrace to the family. To him, she was a bad granddaughter for not giving him the land. To Lizzie and her mother as well, the way he treated his ex-wife was humiliating. He openly went after Earline during his marriage, didn’t care what anyone around town thought. That came back to bite him big time when Rose, his first wife, made him give up the one thing that meant the most to him – that land. He was furious about that, but she didn’t give him much choice. Maybe that’s why he treated Earline so bad.”

  “Did he really take Lizzie to court to try and get the land back?”

  Owen nodded. “Oh yeah, he did. In fact, they were due in court next week. I don’t know why he kept after her. They’ve been before a judge five or six times, and Amos lost every single time. The will is ironclad. Amos was a stubborn man. He told his lawyer that he had new evidence that would break the will.”

  “What was it?”

  “I don’t know, and the lawyer didn’t say. He cited client/lawyer privilege. He says it still applies because he is the family lawyer, and Earline is his likely heir.”

  “You mean Earline could go after the land?”

  “She could, but I doubt it she will. She hates it here. You heard what she said at the park – she wants out. If she continues his fight, she would have to come back here at some point, and I don’t think she wants to do that.”

  “Does Lizzie know what this new evidence is?”

  Owen thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Amos always played things close to the vest. He never let anyone know what he was thinking, said it gave him more leverage that way.”

  “She’s the prime suspect, isn’t she?”

  “Who?”

  “Lizzie.”

  “Not necessarily. Earline has just as much, if not more, motive than Lizzie. The difference is Lizzie isn’t the kind of person to hold a grudge. Oh, she gets mad, and God help whoever gets her that way.”

  “Yes, I know,” T.J. said ruefully.

  Owen laughed. “I knew she would get upset about me sending you out there.”

  “She said for you to come ask her yourself the next time you want to know something.”

  “What else did she say?”

  “There was an incident at the hardware store this morning,” T.J. replied and told him the conversation Lizzie had overheard, plus the run-in with Albert Garcia. “I guess we should go have a talk with the store owner.”

  “I’ll do that. You should go verify Crandall’s alibi.”

  T.J. remembered what Lizzie said, but asked anyway. “Wouldn’t it be better if you went?”

  “No, it wouldn’t.”

  “But Trixie’s your sister…”

  “Lizzie told you?” T.J. nodded. “Then you know why I can’t. We need this to be by the book. If you’re uncomfortable going out there, I’m sure I can arrange for you to meet her somewhere else.”

  “No, it’s okay. I can handle it. I’m curious about something, though. How did the two of you take such different paths?”

  “You mean, how did we end up on opposite sides of the law? Technically, Trixie isn’t doing anything wrong. Gentlemen’s clubs have been popular for centuries. Nowadays, people associate them with sex. Her place isn’t like that.”

  “But why own a gentlemen’s club?”

  Owen laughed. “She has an MBA from Texas A&M, and actually worked in the corporate world for a few years. But she discovered it was too cutthroat for her, so she came home and took over the family business.”

  “Family business?”

  “My mother ran the place for forty years before handing over control to my sister. How else could she afford to send us to college?”

  “This is one weird town,” T.J. muttered.

  “Just wait,” Owen laughed, “it gets weirder.”

  Chapter 9

  I was cleaning the paintbrushes when I heard a car pull into the driveway. I figured it was T.J. After all, he had bought the steaks and I had promised to cook them.

  Imagine my surprise when Owen walked through the gate. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here,” I said, glaring at him. “I’ve a good mind to call your mother and tell her what you did.”

  “You say that every time I do something to tick you off,” Owen laughed. “The first time was when we were five and I shoved you out of a swing at the park.”

  “And you got your behind blistered in the woodshed,” I reminded him.

  “I’m a little too old to be taken to the woodshed, so ratting me out to Mom won’t do you any good.”

  I turned off the water and shook out the brushes. “What do you want?”

  “Why did you give my deputy a hard time?”

  “Why did you send him out here to give me the third degree? You already know most of it.”

  “Except for the part that happened at the hardware store this morning. Besides, T.J. is new in town, and since he is helping me investigate the murder, he needed to hear it from you.” Owen studied the ground for a moment. “Have you talked to your mother yet?”

  “No. They’re somewhere in the middle of the ocean on their anniversary cruise. I really don’t want to crash their fun. She hasn’t had anything to do with him in years.”

  “He’s still her father. She has a right to know.”

  “Then you call her.”

  “Do you plan to help Earline with the funeral arrangements?”

  Grabbing a hammer from the shed, I tapped the paint lids back into place. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you’re his granddaughter, and if you leave things up to her, she’ll bury him in a pauper’s grave.”

  “Or she’ll have him cremated and scatter his ashes in the cow pasture.”

  “Either way, he deserves a proper Christian burial.”

  “Owen,” I said, picking up the paint cans, “he disowned me years ago. The only time he ever talked to me was through his lawyer to make another threat.” Placing the cans in the shed, I closed the door. “Don’t you think it would be hypocritical of me to help plan his funeral?”

  “I suppose it would,” he conceded. “But your mother raised you better than that. You’ll feel guilty if you allow Earline to bury him in Potter’s Field.”

  I wasn’t going to admit he was right. “I don’t know.”

  “Just think about it,” Owen replied. “It will be a few days before the coroner releases his body.”

  “By which time, Earline will have taken off for parts unknown probably.”

  He grinned. “No, she won’t. I called Judge Kelly and got a court order, freezing all their bank accounts. I’m sure she’ll be calling me soon to complain.”

  “Better you than me,” I laughed, leading the way into the kitchen. I threw him a bottle of water and sat down.

  “There is something I want to ask you,” he said, sitting down at the table.

  “You mean besides the ‘where were you last night’ one?

  “I know you didn’t do it.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Now convince your deputy and I’m home free.”

  “Be serious for a moment. Can you think of anyone else who would want Amos dead?”

  “About half the town.”

  “Quit clowning around. When you were in the hardware store this morning, did you get the impression that Roger and the other men might have done it?”

  “Why ask me? That’s your job, not mine.”

  “Because you have very good instincts about people. I’d like your opinion.”

  I stared out the window at Babe, who was still sleeping under the tree. “Owen, I’m a writer, not an investigator.” He just stared at me. I sighed and sat down. “I think they either know who did it, or were involved in some way. To what exten
t, though, I couldn’t say. I got the impression that Albert was scared about something.”

  “Amos has been putting the squeeze on some of the downtown business owners, trying to make them sell to him.”

  “Why?”

  Owen shook his head. “I don’t know. I do know he was also trying to get Trixie to sell him the club. She told him what he could do with his offer.”

  “Doesn’t that put her at the top of the suspect list?”

  “One of many suspects.”

  “I would love to be a fly on the wall when you question her.”

  He stood up, grinning. “I’m not questioning her. T.J. is.”

  “Isn’t that like throwing Daniel in the lion’s den?” I said, laughing.

  “Daniel walked out alive.”

  “Yes, but will T.J.?”

  Chapter 10

  I was making salad when T.J. showed up. Actually, the first thing I saw was the cherry cheesecake he was holding from Delia’s Bakery. “How did you know I have a terrible weakness for cheesecake?”

  “A little bird whispered in my ear,” T.J. said as he followed me into the kitchen.

  “Would that little bird be named Owen?”

  “I plead the Fifth,” he laughed. “Am I forgiven yet?”