“Mac,” I said. “You were right there, saw the drool and the burn the day it happened, and it never occurred to you before now that Oliver might have been murdered?” I asked.
“Well I wasn’t looking for any signs of a murder, and,” he smiled sweetly at Miss Vivee and nodded toward her, “when I’m around her she captivates my full attention. I don’t notice anything else.”
“Give it a rest, Mac,” Miss Vivee said. “I just have a keener eye than you. That’s all.” I shook my head at the two of them. “We’re going and check out the house tonight,” she continued. “The feds roped it off, but until that autopsy report gets back with conclusive evidence of how he died, they don’t have a reason to search it seeing he died on the shoal. But I’m thinking that whatever was used to poison him might still be there. And I want to find it.” Miss Vivee leaned in over the table and whispered. “You wanna go?”
“I’m in,” he said with a wink. “What time are the three of us meeting up?”
“Not three.” I circled my finger around the table. “Just you two,” I pointed to the two of them. “Not me.” I said adamantly. “I’m not going.”
Chapter Seventeen
It was after nine thirty by the time we got to Oliver’s house. His cottage was surrounded by yellow crime scene tape. So was his rock garden. I was crouched down on the perimeter of Oliver’s house with Miss Vivee and her “Down with Whatever She Does Man,” Mac. I knew I said I wasn’t coming. I probably had said it fifty times, but telling Miss Vivee I wasn’t going to do something she wanted me to do was like talking to a brick wall. Plus, I figured someone had to watch those two.
I pointed to the rock garden. “See, Miss Vivee? They noticed the rock was out of place.” The sight of the rocks made me rub my hip, a reminder of me sneaking around, just like I was doing now.
We’d come out in full cat burglar mode. The night unfortunately, wasn’t as dark as I’d liked, there was a full moon. According to Miss Vivee that’s when all the craziness happens. If you asked me the craziness had begun earlier, in broad daylight. It had started when Miss Vivee decided we were going to become housebreakers.
The streets had been quiet and almost desolate as we made our way to the beachfront property. The only sounds as we neared Oliver’s place were the waves lapping against the shore, and a chorus of cicadae and frogs.
Miss Vivee had sent me to buy us black ski masks at Hadley’s, and was quite upset when I informed her that a small corner drugstore, in Georgia, in the middle of June, didn’t have any.
Go figure.
Instead Mac was dressed in navy pants and a dark plaid shirt, face uncovered, he brought his cane along, which in my mind would go more toward being able to identify him if seen than not. Although he did tell us that it could double as a weapon. Miss Vivee had on her funeral clothes as she called them – a black dress, a black hat with a veil (to cover her face since she had no ski mask) and her knee high rubber boots, which were green. She didn’t have any black ones she told me. And to Miss Vivee’s chagrin, I had on jeans, a T-shirt and tennis shoes. Evidently not appropriate attire for a break-in. I did have my knapsack, filled with the essentials when out in the field, and I’m hoping, during home invasions as well.
Miss Vivee had wanted to park at Mims Point Park, descend the stone steps where Gemma had received her fatal blows and walk along the beach. So we wouldn’t be spotted, she had said. I figured the usual ten minute walk, with their age and Mac’s bad hip, would turn into a twenty minute trek with them too puckered out, if they made it, to do anything but sit once we got to Oliver’s.
Running an illegal ring with not-so-street-wise geriatric thugs was going to be the death of me.
I dropped them off near the house and told them to wait for me there while I parked the car. I figured they could sit on the bench that Miss Vivee and Koryn had sat on the day I’d gone to ask Oliver to use his boat, which was also the day he died.
Of course when I got back to where I told them to stay they weren’t there.
“Miss Vivee!” I called out in a strained whisper, trying not to raise my voice. “Miss Vivee! Where are you?”
Darting across the area between where I told them to sit and where I dropped them off, I began to panic. Twisting my body from side to side, searching up and down the beach for any sign of them, I could feel a knot rising up in my stomach and my throat tighten.
Did someone spot them? Did the police have them?
Then I heard. “Yoo-hoo!”
It was Miss Vivee.”
“Yoo-hoo, Logan. We’re over here.” Mac waving their position to me with his cane high up over his head.
Oh my God. Was she sending out a signal so the police would come?
I turned toward the “yoo-hoo siren” and stealthily ran over to where they were.
“Shhh! Miss Vivee,” I whispered. I pulled Mac’s arm down. “We are supposed to be quiet. Furtive like. Not call attention to ourselves.”
“Why? There’s no one around here,” Miss Vivee looked around as she spoke in her normal voice. “Just us.”
“Shhh!” I shushed her again, putting my index finger up to my mouth. I crouched down and bent my knees, trying to be low to the ground, out of sight. “Why did you leave from over there?” I pointed back in the direction of the bench. “I told you two to stay put.”
“Figured we’d get a head start. You can move faster than us, you know,” Miss Vivee said.
“So could a turtle,” I muttered.
“What did you say?” Mac asked in his regular voice.
“Never mind,” I whispered. “Everybody. Please. Keep your voices down.”
I looked at the two of them looking at me. Mac with his cane, Miss Vivee with her purse on her arm. If I hadn’t been so nervous, it would have actually been funny. I was crouching down, ears on high alert, readying myself to run at the first noise. My partners in crime, however, couldn’t even stoop let alone crouch and they surely couldn’t run anywhere. So they stood, as erect as their fragile vertebrae could manage, together, ready for their geriatric-style home invasion caper.
We were so going to jail.
“What do we do now, Logan?” Miss Vivee whispered.
Why is she asking me?
And as if she could read my mind: “You’re the only one that’s got experience breaking into places.”
Oh, that’s why . . .
“Miss Vivee,” I whispered back. “That was only one time and I made a promise to myself, my mother and nearly to God (I try not to make promises to God, just in case I mess up) that I’d never do it again.”
“Well, it’s a little too late to worry about that now, dear,” Miss Vivee said and circled her finger around indicating where we were. “You’ve done the deed.”
I wasn’t going to argue with her. I just wanted to do it and get out of there.
“First we have to find a way to get in,” I said. “You two stay here and I’ll see if I can find an unlocked window. Then I can open the door for you.” I took off across the yard, thought about it and came back. “Stay. Right. Here.” I looked at the two of them and pointed my finger to the ground. “Right here. Understand?”
“We got it,” Miss Vivee said.
I took off again. Across the sand. Through the sea oats. Hopping over the scattered rocks. Cat-like moves, staying close to the ground, ducking and weaving in case anyone was surveilling the house. I did the limbo under the crime scene tape, danced around the rock garden and did a side-step to the house. Bracing myself on the side of it, I jerked my head right then left.
Looked like the coast was clear.
Whew!
I set off to find a way in. I circled the house twice, checked every window I could reach. Tried climbing up the gutter as well as attempting to stand on the banister and hoist myself on top of the porch’s roof. After I couldn’t do either, I thought to check the doors, just in case they were open. No such luck. Everything was locked up tight.
There was no way w
e were getting in.
Breathing hard from my attempts at entrance, I bent over, arms swinging low and darted back to Miss Vivee and Mac.
This time they had stayed put.
“I can’t find a way in, Miss Vivee.” I tried to keep my voice low but I was out of breath. Sucking up air I said, “Looks like we’re locked out.”
“Then it’s a good thing I bought the key,” Miss Vivee said and opened up her purse.
“You have a key to Oliver’s house?” My brows shot up.
“Of course I do.” She handed it to me. “Well, he left one at the Maypop in case he ever needed one. Not that he ever did, he never locked the doors. I took that one.”
“You. Have. A key?” I stood up straight and tried not to scream.
“Yes. I have a key,” she said as if she was getting frustrated with me. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“You had a key and you didn’t tell me before I went to try and get in.”
“You told us to wait here,” Miss Vivee looked at Mac who nodded. “You were quite stern about it.”
Please Lord, give me strength.
“Come on you two.” I spoke in my regular voice. I stood up straight and marched off toward the house. “Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter Eighteen
We walked through the front door and stood there staring into the darkness.
“What should we do?” Mac asked, this time he spoke in a whisper.
“First thing is we need some light,” Miss Vivee said as she flicked the light switch on the wall of the front room.”
“Don’t!” I flipped it back off making our eyes have to readjust to the dark. “No one is supposed to be here. Don’t you think it’ll look suspicious if someone saw a light on in here?”
“Well, how are we supposed to see?” she asked indignantly.
“Flashlights.”
“I don’t have one,” she said. “Do you have one, Mac?” I could hear him patting on his pockets.
“I bet there’s one in the kitchen,” Miss Vivee said and started off walking.
“Wait!” I said. “You could bump into something.” I heard her as she bumped into something.
“Son of gun, that’s smarts,” she said and dropped into a nearby chair.
“Are you okay, Miss Vivee,” I said pulling out the flashlight from my knapsack. I turned it on and beamed it on her boot.
“I just broke a toe, so I’m guessing I’m not alright.”
“Oh crap! Did you really break a toe?” I kneeled down by her ready to pull off her boot and take a look. She swatted me away.
“You want my cane, Vivee,” Mac offered.
“Will you two stop? I’m fine.” She stood up and tried to put her weight on her foot. “Well. I’ll be fine.” She took in a breath. “Shine that light that way,” she said to me pointing her finger up the stairs. “We should check out his bedroom.” She grabbed my arm and let me help her as we ascended the steps.
“Here, I think that’s his room.” Miss Vivee nodded toward a door at the end of the hall. “I want to see if there’s a glass or something near his bed from where he ingested the poison.”
We walked just inside the room and stood. I shined my beacon of light around slowly so Miss Vivee could examine its every nook and cranny. Occasionally she would grab my hand and bring the light back to a spot she’d had already seen.
“Nothing,” she said. She sounded disappointed but evidently still determined. “Let’s check out the bathroom.”
“Here, Mac.” I gave him my flashlight and let him lead Miss Vivee into the en suite bathroom. I pulled out my iPhone and clicked on the flashlight icon. I walked the room and perused it again.
“Do you see anything?” I asked as I came to the doorway that separated the two rooms.
“Looks like this is where Oliver filled his cigarette cartridges,” Miss Vivee said. “All kinds of bottles here.”
“Don’t. Touch. Anything!” I said.
“I know better,” she said snatching her hand away.
“Here.” I pulled two pair of latex gloves out my knapsack. “Hope you’re not allergic.” I handed a pair to her and Mac. “Put these on.”
Miss Vivee and Mac donned the gloves examined the bottles discussing what they found as they picked up each one. Being careful, they searched under the sink and in the cabinet for something that could have been used to poison Oliver.
“I don’t know. I can’t be sure,” Miss Vivee said. “What do you think, Mac?”
He shook his head slowly. “Nothing that I see that I think could kill him.”
“Maybe we should check the kitchen,” Miss Vivee said and turned to leave.
“Wait,” I said and held my hand out to stop them. “Did you hear that?” I lowered my voice to a whisper.
Unsure what was going on, I looked at Mac, his eyes were as wide as mine. Miss Vivee had her ear tuned listening for the sound. We stood frozen.
Miss Vivee sucked her teeth. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Shhh!” I said. “I hear something.” I looked at them, a look of concern on my face. “I think someone is here.”
Chapter Nineteen
Miss Vivee wanted to climb out the window to get away from the intruders. Shinny down the gutter, she had said. “Of course, we’ll have to help Mac,” the only circumstance she seemed to see as a hindrance to her plan. Then, she thought, we would be able to just steal away in the dark, run across the beach, find the car and drive off into the night, no one the wiser.
Such an adept criminal.
I had to remind her that she and Mac were ninety and I thought the hindrance might be that she’d break a hip. Plus, neither one of them could run.
At least not very fast.
We had gone back into the bedroom after we heard the sound, standing around staring at each other, we didn’t know quite what to do (aside from Miss Vivee’s brilliant plan of escape). I went to the door of the room and with each arm holding on to either side of the frame, I leaned out into the hallway.
“I hear voices,” I turned back to report.
“Whose voices?” Miss Vivee asked.
“I don’t know,” I did a whisper-yell. “The voices are muffled.”
“It’s probably the killers,” Miss Vivee said and moved over closer to me.
Killers? Did she think there was a gang of them?
I turned around and came back in the room. There were at least two, I had to admit, unless the killer was talking to himself.
“What’d we do?” Mac asked. He looked at Miss Vivee. “You want me to go down and confront them?” He waved his cane. Maybe his dual purpose walking stick would come in handy.
“No.” Miss Vivee waved her hand. “They could overtake you in no time.”
“Hide,” I said like it was a brilliant idea. That set us off in a scramble. The closet. Behind the drapes. Under the bed. Miss Vivee and Mac couldn’t bend or duck to tuck themselves away anywhere.
There was no place to hide for us.
“What about the bathtub?” Miss Vivee said. “We could all get in, pull the door shut.”
That idea wasn’t very appealing to me.
“The door is glass, Miss Vivee,” I said instead. “They’d see us.”
“I think my idea is the best,” Mac said. “I go down there. Talk to them. It has to be someone we know. We know everyone in town. That way we wouldn’t have to try and run for it.” He looked at Miss Vivee. “We can’t run anywhere, dear.”
“I know!” Miss Vivee said with a start, a gleam in her eye. “Everybody just stand still.” She stopped and put up her hands as if she was posing.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“We can freeze. Don’t move. And they won’t know it’s us. They do it all the time in New Orleans.” She unfroze her hand to wave at Mac. “Like a statute, Mac.”
Mac struck a pose.
Did she really think if we stood perfectly still that people coming into the room wouldn’t no
tice us?
“Miss Vivee!” I said, clenching my jaw to refrain from shouting. “We cannot just stand here. We have to figure something else out.”
And then, I felt the butterflies take flight in my belly. But they must have ran into a something hard because I got a sudden jolt that almost made me bend over.
My hands started to shake. My throat dry. My heart raced. I licked my lips. This was just like when I was being chased by the federal guards at Track Rock Gap, the federal site I had trespassed into.
I didn’t like this feeling one little bit.
I glared at Miss Vivee. I can’t believe I let that little five-foot nothing, wanna be felon, talk me into doing something this stupid again. Miss Vivee I noticed, wasn’t even breathing hard.
Maybe she would make a good gangster, she showed no fear.
“I have an idea,” Miss Vivee said.
“We’re not climbing out of any windows, or pretending to be statutes,” I said. I walked back over to the door and listened. The voices hadn’t seemed to have gotten any closer. Yet. “So,” I looked back at her. “If your idea is a repeat of those things or anything similar, don’t say it.”
Chapter Twenty
I took Mac all the way home which seemed like the only thing that had upset Miss Vivee all night. When we had started the night out, Miss Vivee had made him wait on the corner of his street for us to “swing by” and pick him up. Because of me, she growled, she’d now broken her vow never to go to Mac’s house again.
At least Mac was home safe.
Miss Vivee’s idea had worked. She said to call the Sheriff’s office and report that there was an intruder in the house. That would send the coppers running and give us time to get out. I was reluctant at first. But she convinced me that Mae Lynn, apparently the perennial dispatcher, would do as she instructed and in turn, the Sheriff would do as his call taker asked. So we called and Mae Lynn sent a squad car, sirens blaring it seemed all the way from the police station, to check, as she said, on a 1-14.
And those sirens made whoever was in the house leave in a rush. Miss Vivee tried to look out of the window to see who it had been. I wouldn’t let her. I gave them a few minutes and then tried to rush Miss Vivee and Mac down the stairs.
Coastal Cottage Calamity (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 8
