Homicide by Hamlet (Cozy Mystery) Book #3 (Chubby Chicks Club Cozy Mystery Series)

by Lois Lavrisa

  “I know, right? And why your car?” I asked.

  José took a gulp of iced tea and set down his glass. “I wish I knew. After talking to everyone I could, I’m not any closer to uncovering who the driver was. Absolutely everyone had an alibi. And no one saw anything. Or anyone near the car, in the car or taking the keys. Nothing.”

  “Savannah is one of the most haunted cities in the country. It could’ve been a ghost.” I smiled.

  Gerald chuckled. “The ghost of Hamlet’s father.”

  Bezu smirked. “You theater people.”

  José chuckled. “I’ll interview the ghost later. Just let me know where I can find him.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m out of leads and suspects. This will thrill Ray.”

  “Is he the officer who has a major beef with you?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s him. Ray’s been gunning for me to lose my job for as long as I can remember.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I think it’s because every week I beat him at poker. He’s a sore loser. I bet he’s lost a thousand dollars to me over the past year alone.” He stretched his arms over his head. “But don’t worry, I won’t lose my job anytime soon. I still close the most cases in the precinct, and sooner or later, I’ll close this case as well.”

  “I know you will, José.” I dabbed my mouth with a linen napkin. “And I hope the rest of the week is uneventful.”

  “Yes. Camp will be over in two days. It would be great if we could make it through without further incident,” said Gerald glancing at his phone.

  That was the fourth time since we sat down for dinner that he’d looked at his phone. He seemed a bit preoccupied. He was still friendly and charming—just a bit distracted. I brushed it off.

  “Not if Priscilla has anything to do with it, trouble seems to follow her,” I said. “How ironic that a drama queen like her is drawn to the theater profession.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Gerald looked at his phone again. “Speaking of theater,” he said, “I hope you all don’t mind that I have to eat and run. I have to be back on campus to finish up some work for tomorrow.”

  “Please don’t leave before dessert,” Bezu implored.

  “I’m sorry I have to,” Gerald said. “But, I certainly enjoyed the delicious dinner, as well as your hospitality. It was wonderful. Thank you for inviting me to join you.”

  “You’re more than welcome, anytime you like. And as far as the dessert, I won’t take no for an answer. I’m sending you off with a piece of pecan pie. So don’t go anywhere just yet.” Bezu got up and headed into the kitchen.

  Gerald stood, setting his napkin on the table.

  I tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Don’t even try to leave without dessert. She won’t allow it.”

  Bezu returned with one slice of pie wrapped in waxed paper. After Gerald thanked her and said goodbye to everyone, I walked him to the door. A moment later, I returned and sat back down at the dining room table with Bezu and José.

  Bezu had put slices of pie with scoops of vanilla ice cream on all three plates. She placed one in front of me, and one in front of José.

  “So, how long has that been going on?” José stuck his fork into the pie.

  “What?” I asked.

  “The crush Gerald has on you.”

  My mind fumbled. They think Gerald likes me, in a romantic way? For a fleeting moment, I remembered feeling his breath on my neck while he whispered in my ear. A quiver ran down my spine.

  “What? No! We’re friends. That’s all,” I said dismissively.

  Bezu twisted her mouth as she took a bite of pie.

  “What is that face about?” I looked at her.

  “I think that you’re hoodwinking yourself if you think you’re just friends,” Bezu said. “José’s right. Gerald’s sweet on you, there’s no denying that. I think you should date him.”

  “Yeah, why not?” José nodded at Bezu.

  “C’mon you two. There’s nothing but friendship. And whatever you’re both implying is simply not true. End of subject.” I stuck a forkful of pie in my mouth.

  We chatted for a long time as we ate, and thankfully Bezu and José didn’t say any more about Gerald having a crush on me.

  After dessert, we cleared the plates and went into the kitchen to wash the dishes and clean up.

  José’s phone rang. He excused himself as he stepped into the hallway. A few minutes later he returned. “There’s a 10-48.”

  “And can you translate what that means in non-law enforcement lingo?” I asked.

  “Unattended death,” José said.

  Bezu stopped dunking dishes in the soapy water, and put a hand on her heart. “I do declare. That’s dreadful. I don’t know how you do it. All the crime you see, it would send me to an early grave.”

  “It’s my job and that is what I signed up for,” he said. “But this one will hit even closer to home for you Annie Mae.”

  “It will?” I laid down the towel I’d been using to dry the dishes. “Why?”

  José said, “A custodian found a body at Armstrong.”

  “Oh my!” Bezu said.

  “The medical examiner is there now. And this is strictly between us until it is confirmed. Right now, based on core body temperature, the estimated time of death is around six or so.”

  “That’s horrible.” My heart raced. A boulder plummeted in my stomach.

  José narrowed his eyes. “The body was found in the back of the theater, behind the stage.”

  Bezu and I locked our gaze on José.

  “In the theater?” The words stuck in my mouth. Gerald was there. Some students might have been working late there, as well. My entire body turned to mush. I held onto the kitchen counter for support.

  Bezu placed a hand on my back. “Oh, Annie Mae, this must have you turned inside out with worry.”

  I prayed it wasn’t Gerald or any students. “Do they know who the dead person is?” I pushed the words out of my dry mouth.

  José took in a deep breath. “The body was positively identified as Priscilla Woodham.”

  Chapter Seven

  Bezu and I took her car, following José in his. Yellow crime scene tape hung around the back of the theater, where several officers and bystanders were crowded around. Numerous times I tried calling Gerald, but all I got was his voice mail.

  José chatted with his colleagues as I tried to keep from hurling the contents of my dinner in my belly. My mind raced as I scanned behind the stage. The scenery wasn’t disturbed, except for an overturned box that had once held a small dagger and skull prop.

  Bezu held my arm. “Annie Mae, I’m so sorry. This must have your thoughts spinning like a twister.”

  “And my stomach too,” I said.

  The sound of a male voice screaming made me spin around.

  Several feet away, Dwight was yelling, his arms thrashing in the air. He stood in front of José. “This is my fiancée we’re talking about. You need to find out what happened, now!”

  José responded to Dwight, but I couldn’t hear him. Unlike Dwight, the detective spoke in a normal tone of voice.

  “Let’s go over there,” I said. My mind was engaged in protective friend mode. Not that José needed any fortification; he stood six inches taller than Dwight and had way more muscle mass on him.

  “Not you two!” Dwight sneered as Bezu and I approached.

  “I know you’re upset, this is so awful. Please know that my heart goes out to you.” I reached to comfort him, but he yanked his arm away.

  So much for trying to be nice.

  “Murderer!” Dwight’s eyes were wide.

  “What? Me?” I stammered.

  “Yes, you. You’re the one who arranged the time and location that you wanted Priscilla to pick up the plywood.” Dwight glared at me. “You set her up!”

  “Now, wait here, before you go and accuse people of wrongdoing, you need to know that Annie Mae has an airtight alibi,” José said.

  “
Yes, she does,” Bezu said. “We were all having dinner together.”

  “How convenient,” Dwight snarled.

  “But it’s the truth. I had nothing to do with this, I promise.” I crossed my heart with my index finger.

  “Really? You’ve got to be kidding me. You had everything to do with this,” Dwight snapped.

  “Hold on there, you’re so out of line,” I said.

  “Am I? Aren’t you the one who told her to come to the back of the stage at six tonight to get the plywood?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

  My stomach flipped. “Well, yes, I did.”

  “So, you knew she would be here,” he continued. “And you hated her.”

  “Well, it’s not like we were bosom buddies or anything, but hate is a strong word,” I said.

  “So you have motive; your disdain of her,” Dwight said. “And the police said that the weapon was a skull, might I add, from your set of Hamlet props. You must have used it to crack her cranium.”

  “Me? I’d never hurt anyone. Ever.” Tears welled in my eyes.

  “Killer.” Dwight stabbed a finger into my arm.

  “I’m not. You have to believe me,” I said. “I could never do anything like that.”

  “Yeah. Maybe. But you could’ve arranged for someone else to do your dirty deed.” His voice shook. “You schemed and planned this all out. You’re nothing but a vile vindictive shriveled up old felon.” He pushed me.

  “Watch your mouth,” said José. “And stop touching her, or I’ll arrest you for assault.” José moved in front of Dwight. “Why don’t you calm down and let me do the investigation?”

  “Yeah, right, you’d never let your buddies get into trouble. You’re too biased to be any part of this investigation.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you call your silly group—the Fat Hen Club?”

  How did he know about our little klatch? On the other hand, the four of us, José, Cat, Bezu and I were together quite often. And there was newspaper coverage about all of us after we’d solved two cases.

  “Stupid name if you ask me,” Dwight said.

  “You’re in shock, we all are. Maybe just take a minute to compose yourself,” I offered.

  “I just can’t believe she’s dead. I can’t.” He hung his head.

  “We’ll find out what happened, trust me,” José said. “I’m a professional.”

  Officer Ray walked up. “That’s to be determined.” He stood an inch shorter than José, but had a stout, thick build like a tree trunk, and a blond crew cut.

  José shook his head.

  “You’re welcome to take over this case if you want to. Just lay off the sarcasm. It’s not helping.”

  Ray huffed as he flipped open a notepad. “I need to ask these two women a few questions.” He motioned at Bezu and me.

  “I’d be glad to help you out in any way I can,” I said.

  “Me too,” Bezu added.

  “We have absolutely nothing to hide,” I said.

  “I doubt that.” Dwight stomped off as José trailed him.

  ***

  Following Officer Ray’s questioning, Bezu and I found José.

  “You survived Officer Ray’s interrogation?” With his gloved hand, he placed a crumpled piece of whitish translucent paper into a clear plastic bag.

  “Oh my,” Bezu sucked in a breath.

  “What’s wrong, Bezu?” I asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “José, when you’re done, is it okay if I take a look at that bag, please?” Bezu’s voice quivered.

  “It’s crime scene evidence. Don’t open it.” José handed it to Bezu.

  “Heaven forbid.” Bezu held up the bag, and sucked in a breath. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “What?” I looked at the bag.

  Bezu replied, “That looks like the very same wax paper I wrapped Gerald’s dessert in.”

  “All wax paper looks the same,” I said.

  “But, on this one, I can see crumbs stuck to it that look like pecan pie,” Bezu said.

  “Okay, but why would that be anywhere near a crime scene?” I asked.

  “We’ll soon find out, after forensics takes a look at it,” José said.

  She was onto something. Gerald had left to go to Armstrong before six. And at dinner, he’d seemed rather preoccupied. Could he be a killer? Perhaps I wasn’t as good a judge of character as I’d once thought. But then again, Gerald was innocent until proven guilty.

  So what could I deduce so far? There were three aspects of a crime. Motivation, means and opportunity.

  Gerald had the opportunity, because he worked on campus. Around five thirty, he’d told us he was heading to campus. So it seemed he was in the location of the crime, and could’ve seen it, or heaven forbid, committed it. And he had the ability to commit the crime, the means. It wasn’t like the skull prop had been locked up. Anyone could have gotten it. Two out of three so far, but what would’ve been Gerald’s motive?

  “You’re awfully quiet, Annie Mae,” José said.

  “I’m just in shock. It’s terribly tragic,” I said.

  “I have to ask you, do you think that your friend, Gerald, could have had anything to do with this?” José said.

  “No, of course not. It didn’t even cross my mind.” I lied.

  “Then the wax paper found near the crime scene was just a coincidence?” José asked.

  I couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “José, I’m ashamed of you,” Bezu said. “You just had dinner with Gerald. He’s a charming, intelligent gentleman. You’re putting Annie Mae on the spot here. Please, talk to him if you must, but leave Annie Mae out of it.” Bezu squeezed my hand. “Look at her, she’s obviously upset.”

  “I’m sorry, Annie Mae, I’m just doing my job. I wasn’t accusing Gerald of anything. But out of the three of us standing here, Annie Mae knows the most about him. You’re right Bezu, I’ll talk to Gerald myself,” José said.

  I gave him Gerald’s phone number and his office room number. José gave us a quick hug before he left.

  “José meant no harm,” I told Bezu. “He was just doing his job. But thanks for having my back.” My brain engaged in investigative mode. “I’m puzzled. Why was the wax paper here?”

  “Let’s see. Maybe Gerald brought the pie into the building when he came back here after dinner,” Bezu offered.

  “Sure. That’s what happened,” I halfheartedly said.

  “Yes, of course. He did nothing wrong.”

  I surveyed the area, paying half-attention to my friend. My mind tried to recreate what could’ve happened. “Let me think this through. Gerald’s office is next to mine, on the second floor.”

  “Cozy.” She tapped me in the arm.

  I rolled my eyes. Obviously, she was trying to lighten the situation a bit. “Let’s say he entered the building through the lobby’s double glass doors. From there, he could have gone left up the stairs to his office on the second floor, or taken a right to the theater on the main floor.”

  “Okay, I’m following your train of thought,” Bezu said.

  I laughed. “I just hope it’s not a runaway train.”

  She grinned.

  I went on, “He could have had the piece of pie in his hand. Let’s say he was eating it, and he was almost finished. But then, right before he walked up the stairs, he heard a sound coming from the theater.”

  “Okay. This makes sense so far.” She nodded. “Pie in one hand, then the noise. He headed toward it.”

  “Yes. Then Gerald, instead of heading upstairs to his office, stays on the first floor and enters the theater.” I paced in a circle. “Once inside, he looks around, trying to identify what made the sound.”

  “Of course. And he finds Priscilla dead, but then he sees a person leaving. So, like the hero that I’m certain he is, he drops the wax paper and chases after them.”

  I bit my bottom lip. “That could be one scenario.”

  “Do you have another?”<
br />
  “Yes. Back to Gerald entering the building while eating the pie. Before he goes to his office, he stops in the theater. And while he is there, he drops the wrapper.”

  “And he sees Priscilla—alive?”

  Sighing, I said, “Maybe. Maybe not. I really don’t know. I didn’t get that far in my thought process.”

  “Call him,” Bezu said.

  “I’ve been trying, it goes right to voicemail.”

  “Didn’t José say that he was going to talk to Gerald?”

  “Give me a second.” I called Gerald’s number and got his voicemail again. Then I called José. He picked up on the second ring. “Did you ever talk to Gerald?”

  “No. And he wasn’t in his office. But I found the door wide open, the light on, and he’s not answering his phone.”

  “Shoot,” I said. “Where is he? I’m worried sick.”

  José said, “When my sisters or I were troubled, my mother used to quote Erma Bombeck ‘Worry is like a rocking chair: it gives you something to do but never gets you anywhere.’ I’m not sure if that helps you at all.”

  “I’m old, widowed and soon to be retired. Rocking chairs come with the package,” I said.

  He laughed, “What I’m trying to say is, chill. Remember he is innocent—”

  “—Until proven guilty,” I finished.

  “Correct. So please promise me you’ll take a back seat on this and let me do my work, okay? This is my job, not yours.” José said, “Listen, I’m at the precinct now—I have to go.”

  I hung up and told Bezu what José said.

  “Can you really just sit back and do nothing?” Bezu asked.

  “Heck, no,” I said.

  She grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

  “How can I? Number one, this happened at my campus, on my watch. Number two, a team leader is dead. And number three, a judge, my friend, could be a suspect.”

  “Okay. However, you’re not trained in detective work.”

  “If I recall correctly, while I was away in Chapel Hill, Mr. Phong died in your house. Didn’t you become an amateur sleuth to figure out who caused his death?” I asked.

  “Yes that’s all true. I had to. But, Cat and I got in a lot of trouble and were nearly lynched by the killer.” She put a hand to her neck. “I mean, in the end it all worked out.”