I headed toward the door and Ivy tagged along.
“Does Emily still come every week to clip the kittens’ claws?”
Ivy grinned and nodded. “She comes most days and does something. The cats were a great idea. We get a lot of visitors because of them, Cleo, which is wonderful for our residents. Dolly Webb is allergic, but she brings us a new cat toy every week.”
“Really?” I didn’t think of Dolly as a cat lover.
“We’ve got their vet visits scheduled for next week, for spaying and neutering,” Ivy said. “Come see the recovery unit I’ve set up.”
The nurse’s office in Assisted Living had been a disaster when Ivy arrived, but Stewart had made some major improvements. The new paint was pale pink, and new fluorescent lights had wood trim, so they no longer looked like a garage. But there was something else, and suddenly it hit me.
“Ivy! You put in a skylight!”
That struck me as a big job, and an expensive one that had definitely not been approved, but Ivy was smiling and shaking her head.
“It was always there,” she said.
“A skylight? No. I remember this room. It was dark as a pit. There was absolutely no natural light.”
“They’d covered it up. Can you believe that?”
I looked up at a square shaft, eight or ten feet tall and painted bright white. “But why in the world would they cover it?”
She lowered her voice. “Some drugs increase your sensitivity to light.” She raised her eyebrows and waited for the information to sink in.
“Oh. Yes, I see.”
I thought back to the previous occupants of the office, the ones who’d been there when I arrived. There’d even been a drug theft from this unit the weekend before Ivy joined the staff. It seemed like a long time ago and wasn’t something I liked to remember.
She showed me how she and Stewart had rearranged the two small offices. The second one, with another skylight, had been converted to storage room and cat spa, with food and water, four individual crates, carpeted ledges for climbing, wooly igloos for sleeping, and a row of litter boxes. “We’ll take them to the vet one at a time, so people won’t miss them too much. When they come home, they can stay in their crate for a day or two, until they fully recover from the anesthesia.”
Both offices had transparent pet flaps. Unless they were closed in a crate, the cats still had the run of the building.
“Good work,” I told Ivy.
As I walked back to the big house, I passed the pink building that housed the indoor pool. Music was playing and the windows were fogged. I couldn’t see how many people were in the water exercise class. The outdoor pool was covered with a blue tarp that had collected a few puddles on top.
I walked up the ramp and entered the big house near the dining room, already closed by this time of the afternoon. There was a table just outside the entrance, where people could get fresh coffee or tea all afternoon. It held mugs and glasses, an ice bucket, napkins, and a jar of cookies.
Ann Slump burst out of the dining room, calling my name.
“Cleo! Oh, Cleo, can you ev-ah forgive me? I had no idea of getting you into something like that. And Nita, too. I am so, so sorry.” She hugged me.
“You didn’t know.” I put my arms around her. To my surprise, she didn’t feel like the powerhouse I always saw. Instead, she was thin and small. “Nita and I didn’t know Devon Wheat, so it wasn’t a terrible shock for us, like it would’ve been for you. Evie got the worst of it.”
She dug in the pocket of her trousers for a tissue and blotted her eyes as we stood in the hallway talking. “Nobody deserves to die like that, in a public bathroom. I don’t care what he did.”
“And what did he do?”
Ann rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That girl should’ve left him long ago. But if she had, she wouldn’t have those two precious children.” She shrugged. “That’s life, isn’t it?”
“How is Evie? She actually found him, you know. But she seemed to take it well.”
Ann didn’t seem concerned about Evie. “Evie’s like me. Just takes things as they come. The rest of our family—I’m beginning to think Evie and I must’ve been adopted.”
I told her I still had Evie’s fleece jacket and that I’d return it to her, if that was okay.
“Just keep it.” She waved a hand. “She won’t miss it.”
I had no intention of that.
Cassidy Gee came by, escorting a man in a wheelchair to the PT office. Ann and I talked with them briefly and they left with a couple of cookies.
I leaned against the handrail near the dining room. “Is the knit shop still closed?”
She shook her head. “They told Prissy she could open but she’s just sitting out in the courtyard, not doing any business. Let me tell you, if I’d ever had a murder to work with, I would’ve put on a sale like you wouldn’t believe. I’d be a wealthy woman today.” She laughed and stuffed the tissue back in her pocket.
I was pretty sure she was a wealthy woman.
“Prissy’s customers just gawk and gossip, so they might as well enjoy the sunshine. I shouldn’t criticize. But if my customers had any money, I managed to get some of it before they left.” She laughed before lowering her voice. “Prissy’s letting the business run down. And it’ll get worse now that somebody’s died on the premises.”
She gave a little shake and looked at me. “But what’s there to do. You smell the cookies?”
I did. “I’m surprised Jim Bergen isn’t here.” I started to leave.
“He hits the cookie jar every afternoon. But he’s not the only one.”
As I looked down the hallway, a man entered the lobby. It was Terry Wozniak, and he saw me, too. He stopped and waited, and I waved at him.
“I’d better go.” I walked on.
Chapter 6
“Ms. Mack!”
I waved again. As I got closer, I saw Wozniak was juggling some framed photographs and favoring one arm. Heavy photographs, from the looks of things. He seemed overdressed for the weather, wearing a canvas windbreaker.
“I’ll bet you’re looking for Reg Handleman.” I hoped he was. I pointed across the lobby. “They’re already in the ballroom.”
Wozniak took a couple of steps in my direction and I noticed beads of perspiration dotting his upper lip. He really was too warm. “I’d rather find you. Any chance we can get a cup of coffee somewhere? I’d like to talk with you.”
I noticed Riley Meddors only when he stood up from the nearby couch, watching us. I thought fast and made a little gesture toward him, hoping Wozniak would take it was an indication someone was waiting for me.
“I’m so sorry,” I told Wozniak. “I can’t manage it today, I’m afraid. But they have coffee waiting for you in the ballroom.”
He gave Riley a grim glance. “Then I’ll just get these looked at by the expert. Don’t forget our date, now.” He readjusted the photographs and gave Riley another nod as he went by.
I walked over to the couch.
“I hope you didn’t mind being implicated, Riley. I’m just not up for Wozniak today.”
He frowned. “You have a date with him?”
His starter beard had some streaks of gray I hadn’t noticed last night. I shook my head.
“He was talking about his Henry George class, which begins in January. He’s trying to get me to sign up. The beard’s looking very distinguished.” I leaned around for a side view.
“I wonder why they let Wozniak teach that class.” He frowned. “I know a dozen people who’d do a better job.”
“You, for instance.”
He disagreed. “I don’t think much of single tax. It’s only as good as the people involved.”
“And are all the participants like Wozniak?”
“No. They’re mostly pretty good. He’s more of
a hanger-on.”
“I thought he was president.”
Riley looked surprised but laughed. “I’ll bet he told you that.” He gave me a smile. “Would I fare any better than he did if I ask you to go for coffee?”
I winced. “I’d like to, but I haven’t spent a total of sixty minutes in the office all day. You heard about our visit to the knit shop?”
He nodded. “Nita called, worried about you. I came by to be sure you’re okay. I’m sorry it happened.”
“That’s very sweet.” I squeezed his arm and took a step toward my office. “Don’t forget, I’m looking forward to a report on your trip.”
“How about sandwiches at my apartment before tonight’s lecture? Just the two of us.”
Riley and I went out together frequently, but always with Jim and Nita or occasionally with my daughter and grandson. This would be a first, but a girl had to eat, didn’t she?
“Sure,” I said, calculating. I’d need to stop at my apartment first, to check on Tinkerbelle and freshen up and then walk to his building. And we’d need to get back here by seven, when Handleman’s talk would begin.
I looked at my watch. “Five forty-five? That’ll give us about an hour.”
He nodded and leaned over the back of the couch to grab a Greek fisherman’s cap.
That left me a nice block of time right now to work on today’s messages and mail and maybe next year’s budget. But Lieutenant Mary Montgomery had other ideas. She pecked on my open office door a few minutes later.
“Got a minute?”
“For you, sure.” I pushed the printouts away, dropped my pencil on the desk, and shoved my chair back. An unannounced visit from Montgomery was unusual.
She closed the door and I moved to the sitting area in the middle of the office.
“Chief’s talking with Mrs. Bergen and told me to come tell you. Devon Wheat was strangled.”
“Oh no.” I sighed. A bad situation had just gotten worse. “That means murder?”
She snorted. “Unless you know something I don’t. People very seldom go around strangling themselves.”
“Well, there is that autoerotic thing.”
She blinked a couple of times. “You saw a white towel under the body?”
I remembered seeing a bit of fabric but hadn’t identified it as a towel. “That’s the, umm—can you call a towel a weapon?”
“The implement.” She shrugged. “Garrote, to be technical.”
“The towel wasn’t around his neck.”
“You need to brush up on your crime scene analysis. Watch more TV.”
“I didn’t actually examine him, you know. Who’d want to kill him? Did he have any bad habits? I mean drugs?”
She shrugged. “We’re checking on that and some other things. Preliminary estimate is he died between eight and midnight. He served in the military, came back and finished college across the bay, and moved over here six years ago. Joined Rotary and First Methodist but didn’t stick with either one. Seems like everybody in town knew him, but we haven’t found any close friends. That seem odd to you?”
I didn’t think so. “It’s the way young people are now. They strike out on their own and make professional friends, but they never stay at home to get to know the neighbors. And it wouldn’t matter if they did. The neighbors aren’t at home, either.”
That was another point in favor of retirement communities, where everybody was always home and knew all about their neighbors.
“Where did he live?”
She stretched out long, skinny legs and crossed them at the ankles. “Rented a little house in the Fruits and Nuts. Stayed there when his wife took the kids and left eighteen months ago. We’ve had a hard time running her down, but she’s in Huntsville, it seems, with her parents.”
Fruits and Nuts was the expensive part of town, named for the streets, like Orange and Pecan. The area was close to the bay, where everybody wanted to be, and the houses were cute. I’d looked there initially but couldn’t afford anything livable.
Patti knocked and stuck her head in.
She drew back automatically when she saw I had a guest. “I’m sorry. I was just going to tell you people are already coming in for tonight’s lecture and it’s still over two hours away. Looks like there’ll be a big crowd. Stewart said he’s going ahead with the extra chairs.”
I held up a finger to hold her and looked at Montgomery. “Patti knew Devon Wheat.”
The lieutenant looked over her shoulder. “Come in a minute, will you?”
“I heard something about Devon’s wife leaving him,” I prompted.
Patti hoisted herself onto the edge of the worktable and sat, swinging her feet. “She was here for the witches’ ride a couple weeks ago. Had to meet with the attorneys so she came without the kids. The divorce is about to be final.” Brief pause. “Was, I mean.”
“What’s her name?” I asked.
“Bria. Bria Wheat. Sounds like some kind of crop, doesn’t it?”
The witches’ ride was a pre-Halloween event involving bicycles and women wearing black cloaks and pointy hats. I’d heard it was popular because so few riders could safely pedal while they tossed treats and the crowd enjoyed the anticipation of spills.
Montgomery asked Patti, “Did she stay with him while she was here? Were they on that kind of terms?”
Patti gave her curls a quick shake. “No. She was with friends when I saw her, so we didn’t really talk. But she’s moved on. Still making excuses for him, though. Says he was always stressed out. She was being nice, which anybody might do until they get the money thing worked out. He was being difficult about that. But no, she wouldn’t have stayed with him. Already got a new boyfriend.”
“She’s been gone awhile. Did he have a new girlfriend? Or a boyfriend, for that matter?” Montgomery asked.
Patti twisted her mouth to one side, pantomiming deep thought, then shook her head. “Not that I know of. He just worked and rode bikes and went to the L’Etoile. Participated in some races, Pensacola and Birmingham, I think. I remember him talking about steep hills. And he talked about investments and money. That’s about it.”
“Who’d he hang out with?”
She shrugged. “I only saw him at the Bistro. He ate with Todd sometimes but they weren’t exactly friends. Todd’s younger and was always going on at him, acting like it’s his personal money Devon’s managing. Which, in a way, it was, I guess, but Devon had to do what the judge said, didn’t he?”
She kept glancing at me like she was seeking support, but I had only a bare idea what she was talking about and couldn’t help.
Mary Montgomery nodded like she understood. “Todd, you said? Now remind me which one he is. One of the bikers?”
It was a good way to put a witness at ease and I’d seen Montgomery use it in other situations. Just imply you already knew the facts and the witness wasn’t really telling anything, just helping you recall. Or maybe she really did know Todd.
Patti laughed and looked at me. “You know Todd. Not into fitness or anything. More like a freshman, or a dropout. Not serious about anything.”
“I know him.” I also knew he’d been prowling around her desk the first time I met him.
Patti chatted away, telling Montgomery a few gossipy facts. “He drives a Cadillac that belonged to his grandfather. You’d know it. Expired tag—you probably know that, too. His granddad died—when was it, Cleo? Christmas? No, Valentine’s Day. Right?”
“I wasn’t here then,” I reminded her.
“Right. I forgot. But it was Valentine’s Day, I’m pretty sure. Some holiday, anyway. He had one of the houses and lived here—oh, forever.” She flapped one hand. “Todd’s staying there now.”
She glanced at me. “Just until the estate gets settled, he says. Maybe he’s not supposed to, but you can’t tell Todd anything. He’s n
ot supposed to drive without insurance, but he doesn’t have an income so how’s he going to get any? He’s got four million dollars in a trust fund he can’t touch until he’s twenty-five, but he wouldn’t believe that, either. Thought he could just talk Devon Wheat out of it, or at least tell him how to invest it. He threatened to sue if Devon didn’t double his money by the time he gets it.”
“Maybe I need to talk with Todd,” Montgomery said. “Where do I find him?”
“Andrews Street,” I said, basing it on Patti’s remarks. “I’ll get you the number.” I reached for the Harbor Village directory and looked up Barnwell.
Patti closed her eyes and shook like a wet dog. “If I had to work with a bunch of clients like Todd Barnwell, I’d probably spring a leak, too.”
Spring a leak? Was that new terminology for an aneurysm?
I wrote Todd’s name and address on a sticky note, passed it to Montgomery, and said to Patti, “I didn’t quite catch what Todd wanted Devon to do with four million dollars. Besides give it to him.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t know anything about stocks and stuff. He had a number. Forty, maybe? I don’t remember.”
“A four-oh-one k? A retirement account?”
“I guess. Does Bria get it now?”
I shrugged and looked at Montgomery. “Are you going to tell Patti your news? How he died?”
Patti stopped swinging her feet and looked at me. She tapped her temple. “Blood vessel, you said. Right?”
I wouldn’t look at Patti. Montgomery’s brows lowered and her mouth curved downward even more than usual.
“What?” Patti sounded scared.
“We’re treating it as a homicide now.”
Her eyes popped wide. “A homicide? You mean murder?” She looked from Montgomery to me. “A murder in Royale Court? That can’t be, I’m there all the time. What does Ann say? Oh, Cleo! You don’t think that man…Did you tell her?”
“What are we talking about?” Montgomery looked at me. “You know someone who strangles people?”
Murder at Royale Court Page 9
