Murder at Royale Court

by G. P. Gardner

  “No, Ms. Slump. I’m asking about your shop. What time did you get to the knit shop?”

  Ann turned to look at the shop and stood up straighter. “I haven’t been in the shop today.”

  When I looked toward de la Mare again, twenty or thirty people crowded each other for a view into the courtyard. Only a couple had come in to the restaurant.

  Ann was telling Montgomery about retirement. “The knit shop’s not mine, you know. It belongs to my niece now. I just help her out sometimes.”

  “So Prissy was here earlier?”

  Prissy, a few feet behind Ann, shook her head.

  “Of course not,” Ann answered. “We were at the hotel. She opens at ten.”

  Chief Ray Boozer of the FPD showed up with another officer. Montgomery directed us all back to our original table and told Ann to take the fourth chair. Then she went into the knit shop with Boozer.

  Prissy spoke to everyone, then flitted around the courtyard, talking with cops and bystanders and popping into the restaurant for a few minutes. I saw Jim Bergen in the crowd, watching from de la Mare. I waved and pointed him out to Nita.

  “I wonder who called him.” She gave him a wave. “You know he’s dying of envy that we’re in here and he’s not.”

  The next time I looked in that direction, there were even more people, and Travis was standing beside Jim. I waved again.

  The EMTs came out of the knit shop with an empty gurney and pushed it through the breezeway and up the walk toward Section Street.

  Chief Boozer was next to come out. He looked around and, when his gaze fell on me, walked over. We’d gotten to know each other in my first couple of weeks in Fairhope, but I hadn’t seen him recently.

  “Chief.” I stood to shake his hand.

  Boozer removed his hat and went around the table, greeting Nita and the Slump family members. When he got back to me, he pulled up another chair for himself.

  “I hear you and Ms. Bergen found Mr. Wheat. I’m sorry that had to happen.”

  He had a lovely voice, deep and calming, and would’ve made a fantastic announcer for a late-night radio program.

  “It was Evie more than us.” I told him about seeing Ann in the parking lot and Evie coming into the shop to unlock the bathroom door. “She discovered the body. I went in and felt for a pulse while I was on the phone with the dispatcher.”

  He nodded, listening while he kept an eye on the comings and goings at the knit shop, nodding when one of his men shouted something.

  “He looked like he might’ve fallen,” I ventured. “But that seems unlikely in such a little bathroom.”

  Boozer sighed and rubbed a palm across his dark-brown, shiny head. It was a habit many bald men maintained, arranging hair that was no longer there.

  “The coroner’s man is here now. But I don’t think he fell.” He put his hat back on and gave it a tug. “I’ve got to talk to his wife. I understand there are children.” I could see he was troubled by the prospect.

  “I’m a social worker, you know. If you want me to go along…”

  I thought he might accept the offer.

  Finally, he shook his head. “I usually take my lieutenant. But thank you.”

  I spoke to Montgomery as she was preparing to leave with Boozer. “Are we free to go? You know where to find us.”

  “You gave a statement?”

  I nodded. “You took it.”

  She looked me over. “You aren’t taking anything except what you brought in?”

  I had a shoulder bag, nothing else. Nita had a knitting bag and held it out as if for inspection.

  Montgomery rolled her eyes and dismissed us.

  Nita and I said good-bye to Ann and Evie before we walked to the archway, where Jim and Travis waited. Travis raised the yellow tape for us and Jim took Nita’s bag and gave her a big, clumsy hug, which didn’t suit her. She wriggled out of his clutches and straightened her jacket.

  “Who was it?” a bystander asked. The group of onlookers spilled out into the narrow street.

  Nita said the name and Jim repeated it in a loud voice. “Devon Wheat.”

  I recognized Patti’s friend nearby and said hello. Todd Barnwell was just a few feet away, craning his neck and peering into the courtyard. He gave me a startled look. No swagger today.

  “Where’s your car, Cleo?” Jim held his arm out for Nita to take and leaned on the cane in his other hand. “Give Travis the key and let him drive it home. You come ride with Nita and me. My car’s just down at the corner.”

  I looked again but Todd Barnwell had already disappeared into the crowd.

  There were two factors at work here. Jim was always ready to take charge. We needed people like that. And being security conscious, he was also eager to get a detailed report of the morning’s events. I thought I needed a little time to reflect on the solemnity of death.

  “I’d better drive,” I said. “Travis doesn’t know where my car is.”

  “Then I’ll ride with you,” Travis said with authority. “We’ll see you at home, Jim.” He took my elbow and got us moving. “Which way do we go?”

  Getting back to the parking lot required some walking, since we couldn’t go directly through Royale Court. We walked down de la Mare and turned left on Church Street, then wound our way through the big parking lot. When we finally reached the car, Travis offered again to drive.

  I said no. “I’m back to normal now. How’d you get here?”

  “Rode with Jim.” He made a fuss of holding the door for me, and then I closed my eyes and leaned against the headrest, inhaling slowly, while he walked around to the passenger side.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m okay.” I straightened up. “Just not the best way to start the day. Poor guy.” I buckled the seatbelt and started the car.

  I should’ve exited the parking lot by another route, but I was a creature of habit and went out the same way Nita and I had gone in. At Section Street, where I needed to turn left, I encountered a knot of people on the sidewalk and a number of emergency vehicles parked erratically—ambulance, fire truck, multiple police cars.

  I waited, watching for an opening in traffic, and my phone rang. “Dang it.” I reached into my purse, between the seats.

  It was Stephanie.

  “Hi, honey. I’m in traffic. Talk to your father.”

  I straight-armed the phone to Travis and turned my attention back to oncoming traffic. She hated when I called him that, rather than using his actual name, but old habits died slowly.

  “Your mother just discovered a body,” Travis announced, right off the bat. “No, I’m not kidding. I don’t know.” He looked at me. “What did you say his name was?”

  I told him and he repeated it to Stephanie. “No, I didn’t say that.” He looked at me again. “He wasn’t murdered, was he?”

  I had spotted an opening. I shook my head and gunned the engine, crossing one lane as some whacko in a pickup sped up and came right at me. “No. He fell off a toilet.”

  The pickup horn blared.

  “Good lord! What?” Travis gaped at me.

  I could hear Stephanie guffawing.

  “She’ll call you later,” he snapped into the phone and disconnected. “Really, Cleo. You should let me drive. How did this guy die? Was he…?” His hands jiggled a hula. “Was he dressed?”

  “Do not repeat what I said.” I stopped at the corner and giggled from nerves. “I’m glad Jim didn’t hear it. He’d want details.”

  “So do I.”

  I glanced to the left, saw nobody was coming, and turned right on red, heading for Harbor Village. The speed limit was twenty-five and I ignored it.

  “He was spread-eagle on the bathroom floor, fully dressed, if you count biking shorts. He looked peaceful, like he’d fallen backward. No blood, no twisted limbs. But his feet…”


  “No weapon?”

  I pictured the bathroom. “No weapon. Somebody mentioned an aneurysm. Maybe he has a family history or something.”

  I turned down Harbor Boulevard a minute later and saw Jim already at home, standing on the curb in front of their apartment. He waved his arms as we approached.

  I gave a signal and pulled over, and Travis lowered the window.

  “It’s lunchtime.” Jim bent over so he could see me. “Let’s go to the steak house and you and Nita can tell us exactly what happened, before you forget.”

  “I’ll drive,” Travis said firmly. “My car’s right there.”

  I hesitated. “I’ll need to check in with the office. That’ll take a few minutes. You want to get out, Travis?”

  “Nita’s freshening up. You can use my bathroom,” Jim said.

  Travis glanced at me and raised the window before he got out, and I drove around the corner and into the garage. I entered the big house through the parking lot end of the building and stopped at the bathroom first. When I looked in the mirror, I realized I was still wearing Evie’s fleece jacket. I pulled it off, thinking I’d leave it in the office, but it was cool in the bathroom and I put it back on. I’d give it to Ann later and ask her to return it.

  Patti was at her desk and gave me a cheery greeting. “And how was your morning? Are you knitting something for me?” She batted her eyes. “How about one of those silky infinity scarves? In blues and purples. I’ve already got the glasses to match.”

  I lowered myself into a chair and told her about the dead man in the knit shop, about meeting Ann’s sister, Evie, about Lieutenant Montgomery and Chief Boozer, and about those nice beignets from the gumbo house.

  At some point, Emily, Harbor Village’s red-haired business manager, joined us. “How horrible,” they exclaimed in turn, and made a proper fuss over me.

  Pretty soon I was feeling normal again.

  “How did he die?” Emily asked.

  I shrugged. “They weren’t sure when we left. Maybe an aneurysm. Are you by any chance related to Ann?”

  Emily was surprised. “First cousins once removed. Did she tell you?”

  “No. I just met Evie and Prissy. Lots of redheads in that family.” I looked at my watch and got up. “Travis and the Bergens are waiting to take me to lunch. I’d better go.”

  “Maybe he had a heart attack,” Patti said. “How old was he?”

  Emily asked, “And who was he, do you know?”

  “Too young. A financial advisor with an office in Royale Court. Devon Wheat.”

  “Devon?” Patti gasped, her eyes going round in astonishment.

  “Oh, no!” Emily moaned.

  I hadn’t considered the small-town factor. Both of them knew him, of course. From L’Etoile Bistro, I gathered from their conversation.

  “Part of the biker group?” I was guessing, based on his attire.

  They nodded and hugged each other.

  Patti was tearing up as she grabbed for her phone. “I’ve got to call Stewart.”

  “And he had a wife?” I asked Emily.

  It took her a moment to answer. “Ex-wife, I guess. I’ve heard him talk about child support.”

  I left them consoling each other with the usual tautologies about it being his time and walked back toward the Bergen apartment. When I stepped into the open, a horn tooted from the parking lot. Everyone was already in Travis’s car, waiting for me.

  I got into the backseat with Nita and we went to the steak house in Daphne.

  We had passed Publix when Jim twisted around so he could see me. “Cleo, with your professional background, I’ll bet you have an idea what he died from.”

  I shook my head. “Someone said aneurysm. I don’t suppose that has any overt indicators.”

  “You know Jim.” Nita’s voice held a touch of pride. “He hears hoofbeats and thinks zebras. I already told him there was no weapon, but he didn’t accept it. Did you see one?”

  “No.”

  “Nita, I can’t hear you. Let’s hold the discussion until we get there.” He faced forward again and politely directed Travis’s attention to a changing traffic light.

  Nita and I smiled at each other and rode along in silence. So now I knew Jim suspected foul play. But wouldn’t he always? The question was, what would the cops think? For that matter, what did I really think? That curious position of the body still troubled me.

  The restaurant was dark and quiet. Jim knew the hostess and asked for a particular booth, one that offered a view of the entrance. He and Nita took the bench seat that put their backs against the kitchen wall, and Travis and I had individual chairs in what the hostess called a half-booth arrangement. We placed our orders and got drinks and then a loaf of hot bread to tide us over until the real food arrived.

  Jim smeared soft butter on a thick slice of bread before he looked at me expectantly. Then, amid a flood of questions, Nita and I reported every minute detail of our morning.

  Nita told about trying the shop door before using her key. “Just the way you do. And the door was not locked, whatever Mary Montgomery says.”

  “I thought about you, too,” I told Jim. “I tried to think what you’d do if you were there.” I told about the locked door, the light switch, the position of the body. “And the toilet seat was definitely down. Do you make anything of that, or the way he was lying?”

  Nita frowned at the mention of a toilet, but Jim flipped his place mat over, removed a pen from his pocket, and sketched out the floor plan, approximately to scale. “Was he six feet tall?”

  Nita shook her head.

  I agreed. “Oh, no. He wasn’t a big guy. Five eight, maybe less. And on the thin side.”

  He sketched in a body. “Carpeted floor?”

  That I knew. “No. White tile.”

  “Drag marks?”

  I shrugged. “On tile?”

  “Any dirt or debris under the body? I guess you didn’t check that.” He asked a few more questions, trying to draw out insights we might not realize we had, and seemed to be fitting each detail into a master design.

  “How did you know anything had happened?” Nita asked him eventually, after our meals arrived and we were eating. “You didn’t just drive down to Royale Court to see what was going on in the knit shop.”

  He chewed and chuckled. “These things get complicated, you know.”

  “Tell me,” Nita insisted.

  Jim looked sheepishly at Travis. “You know Dolly? Dolly’s neighbor Ada has a son who drives the ambulance. And Ada called to invite him to breakfast. He said he had to pick up a body, and Ada thought he meant at Harbor Village. She called Dolly to ask who died.”

  Travis nodded, no doubt wondering how complicated this could get.

  Nita said, “Dolly had been to swim, I guess.”

  “And nobody there said anything about a death. But Dolly said she’d call around, and Ada invited her to breakfast in place of her son. Then the son showed up after all and said there’d been a delay before he could pick up the body at Royale Court, not Harbor Village. And Dolly knew that was where Nita was and called me.” He nodded to Travis. “We’ve got our communication networks, you see.”

  I looked at Travis. “And how did you find out?”

  He shrugged, blasé. “Jim told me.”

  I smiled at the contrast and remembered a question I’d meant to ask Nita. “Who is Usher?”

  “Ann’s only brother.” She patted Jim’s arm to draw his attention from Travis. “Jim, Cleo asked about Ann’s brother.”

  “What’s to tell? His name’s Usher and he owns some little shops in town.” He took a sip of black coffee.

  “No, he doesn’t.” She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Let me tell it then. Ann’s the oldest, and Evie came next. You know them. Those two names were just coincid
ence, I believe, but at some point, the Slump parents realized there was a pattern, so the next two girls were Irene and Olivia, and finally there was a boy. Their mother wanted to make him a junior but the girls said no, they had to stick with the vowels, and the only male name they could come up with that started with U was Usher.”

  Jim wasn’t amused. “Not much of a name, if you ask me. Usher Slump? Sounds like a sneeze.”

  “But I’ll never forget it now,” I said.

  Nita looked puzzled. “Usher wasn’t there this morning, was he, Cleo? I didn’t see him. Did you hear something?”

  I told them about the dispatcher asking if the dead man was Usher.

  “Well, where was he?” Jim asked. “He’s supposed to be managing the place. He ought to be there when the rescue squad and half the police force come.”

  “No, the dead man wasn’t Usher, and I don’t know where he was.” Nita frowned. “I believe he’s still the manager, but I haven’t heard anything recently.”

  Heard something? She didn’t elaborate, but I had a feeling there was more to the story.

  We had a good lunch. As usual, Jim ate his food and a portion of Nita’s. She and I had chicken salad with grapes and almonds, served on toasted croissants, and it was all quite good. The men had steaks. Jim proposed dessert, which I skipped in favor of a nice hot cup of decaf.

  What I really wanted was a nap but there was no chance of that today. This week was wearing me out, and the knit shop visit, which was supposed to be fun, had turned into a major tragedy instead.

  Harbor Health Services treated us to lunch. Travis pulled out a credit card and flashed a dazzling smile with even, white teeth. Stephanie had inherited those. I hoped Barry had, too, but it was too early to say. Orthodontia is so costly.

  When we finally got up to depart, Travis held my chair and then Evie’s jacket, which I’d removed during lunch. Nita watched and frowned, even though I knew she valued such courtly gestures.

  Jim looked at his watch. “Folks, we’ve got to get home and prepare for the afternoon performance. Remember, Reg Handleman’s going to be authenticating photographs. And I’ve got some old ones for him.”