She walked, head held up high, her black floppy hat moving in rhythm with her hips that swung seductively. Her hourglass figure was covered in a black halter dress, she was bare legged and practically glided down the carpeted walkway to the altar in her three-inch, poi-de-soie heels.
“I want to thank everyone for coming today,” she said with a smile after she walked up the two steps to the podium and fitted the microphone even with her vermillion colored lips. “It really touches my heart that Oliver, my wonderful husband, was so loved by everyone here in Yasamee.”
After the initial, collective gasp, a pin dropping could have made enough noise to startle the crowd gathered in the church.
Her husband?
Ron stood up and his jaw dropped opened but he, like everyone else, didn’t say a word. I turned my neck slightly and saw Charlie cover her face with a tissue. Mystery woman utilized the hush to let what she had said all sink in.
“Oliver has always told me so much about his extended family here, and I hope to have the opportunity to speak to each and every one of you at the repast that Renmar Colquett and her family at the Maypop Bed & Breakfast has so graciously agreed to host. The last time I spoke to Oliver, which was on that fateful morning, he told me that I was the only woman he’d ever truly loved. And Oliver,” she said looking down at the framed picture. “I want you to know that I will never, as long as I live, love another man as I have loved you.”
The three jilted blondes popped up out of their seats, one by one, each gave a huff and stormed out of the church.
It was a good thing Miss Vivee didn’t use her line on Miss Sydney about Oliver telling her she was the only woman he loved, because it might just have been true.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sydney Alton-Gibbons was stunning. Her good looks were the kind that made men – and women – stop and gawk. When she crossed the lawn headed to the repast tent, it was liked she walked in slow motion. Just like in the movies. Her mass of red, thick hair (not blonde, Oliver’s color of choice so we all thought) tumbled over her shoulder in soft, flowing curls and bounced when she walked. It framed a face that had soft features and looked as if it had been kissed by the sun, (said sun being exceptionally affectionate to the light freckles that were sparsely sprinkled across her nose and under her eyes). Her eyelashes were long enough to catch snowflakes, her nose was petit and upturned.
But all beauty aside, she was the ultimate woman scorned.
Probably the best reason to commit murder.
But no one could convince me that she was capable of it. No way. No how. Not ever. I watched in awe, with a smile on my face, just like everyone else when she made her entrance. In a “Sydney Trance” until that is, I was interrupted by Miss Vivee.
“I am going to have to confront Renmar,” Miss Vivee was saying, patting my sore leg.
Couldn’t she find a different spot?
“None of those nitwits could have committed a murder so complicated. Hell, I should have known it when Mary Beth was going to try and stab somebody with a butter knife. Now if that don’t beat stupid.”
“Well you can’t confront her now,” I said. “The pastor is going to bless the food and she’s got a house full of company.” I pointed around the backyard.
“Do you think it’s important enough for Renmar to kill Oliver over it?”
“I don’t know, Miss Vivee.” I looked over at Renmar. She seemed to have a Sydney Crush, too. She held her by her arm and was taking her around, introducing her to everyone. “It’s important to me because it’s science.”
“Well it’s important to Renmar because it’s part of her blue ribbon prize every year,” Miss Vivee said.
«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»
“This is a very nice greenhouse, Miss Vivee.” Tom Bowlen stood at the door. “Mind if I come in?”
Miss Vivee had grown tired of the crowd in the backyard and pulled me away to hide out with her in her greenhouse until she could get the opportunity to speak with Renmar. But this guy, I know she considered to be an intruder. Miss Vivee just looked at him. I’d never known anyone but me to visit her greenhouse and she did not seem to like it.
“Come on in,” I said. Didn’t want to be rude to Bay’s colleague.
“Did you study horticulture?” he asked.
“I’m a Voodoo herbalist.”
“Excuse me?” he said a look of surprise on his face.
“I practice Voodoo,” she said. “Most people that come to my greenhouse don’t usually leave.”
“Miss Vivee,” I whispered. “Be nice.”
“That’s a joke, right?” He laughed. “You’re funny.”
“Logan, you seen my snake gun?” she said, loud enough for him to hear.
“So, Tom,” I said ignoring Miss Vivee. “Did you find out anything at the memorial service?”
“Find out anything?”
“Like who killed Oliver.”
“Why would you say he was killed? No one’s made that determination. At least officially.” He looked at me suspiciously. “Did Agent Colquett tell you that?”
“If he says one word about Bay,” Miss Vivee leaned into me and spoke low, “I will shoot him.”
“No, you’re not,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow as if to say, “You don’t really know me, do you?”
“How do you keep bugs from eating up your plants?” he asked not even noticing that she was pleased with his presence.
“Same way as everyone else,” Miss Vivee said. “I use a pesticide.”
“I only use organic pesticides,” he said, apparently proud of himself. “I have a small garden and sunroom,” he said and nodded. “Organic is ‘green.’” He made air quotation marks. “Helps the environment. An eco-friendly pest control agent. I even make my own.”
“Buy mine down at Hadley’s,” Miss Vivee said. “They stock everything I need.”
Except for ski-masks for when you get a penchant for breaking the barricades around houses on lockdown.
“Wow,” he seemed to be excited as he pointed to a plant. “You have nightshade. Very beautiful. But very deadly.”
That made Miss Vivee look up for the first time. She may not like intruders, but she liked someone who knew about the same things she did.
“Atropa Belladonna. The berries are the most poisonous,” she said and smiled.
Was that a wicked smile? I frowned up my brow.
“But, used by women in a way that wasn’t so bad,” he said.
“Ahh,” Miss Vivee said. “Do you think a woman’s eyes alluring who has used it?”
He laughed. “I’m not sure how a woman using it would look. Never seen one,” he said. “And I’m married. I wouldn’t let my wife anywhere near the stuff. She’s beautiful just the way she is. Brown hair, violet eyes.” He laughed again. “I wouldn’t ever let her near anything that would hurt her.” He pointed to the plant. “I’d protect her with my life.”
“Do tell,” Miss Vivee seemed to be having fun with the conversation. “Well belladonna has other uses,” Miss Vivee said and pointed to the plant with her trowel. “Medicinal. It contains atropine.”
“Oh really?” he said. “I didn’t know that.” He cocked his head to the side. “Not even sure I know what that is. Has to do with something with the body I think?” He continued talking without waiting for an answer. “I’m more of a history buff.”
“I say.”
“Yeah, so asked me about its famous uses in history and I can rattle that off. That’s how I know women used to put it in their eyes.”
“Help me with this, Logan,” Miss Vivee said. She wanted me to move the potted plant she’d been working on.
“Let me do it,” he said and came over to her. “Where do you want it?”
“Right there.” She pointed to a nearby table. “My, what big strong hands you have.” She smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” he said and smiled. “But I better go now, Age
nt Colquett – uhm, Bay put our names on the clean-up committee.”
“Aww, too bad,” I said and smiled.
“I know,” he nodded. “Trash detail for me,” he said as he left.
“Think we should go and help?” I asked and pointed out the door.
“No,” Miss Vivee said. “Stick with me and you’ll get to skip right over a lot of the mundane parts of life.”
Life around Miss Vivee certainly wasn’t dull, that’s for sure.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ron Anderson seemed in a sour mood. Even before he found out if he’d owned all of Yasamee or not.
It was the reading of Oliver Gibbons’ Last Will and Testament. Taking place the day after the memorial service, thanks to Ron Anderson’s directional prowess, he’d orchestrated that everything in short order.
At the lawyers office located on the second floor of a building in town square, Miss Vivee, Renmar, Brie, Hazel and I, along with the Andersons gathered in the small office.
Sydney floated in right after us. Her makeup made her look youthful – the pink gloss on her lips, the barely there blue on her eyelids. She smelled like fresh flowers. She wore a floppy hat, similar to the one she had on at the funeral – only in pink. Her crocheted gloves were the same shade, with purse and two-inch pumps to match. Her dress was white, adorned with a flowing pink and white scarf. Other than an occasional dab at her eyes, she didn’t look like she was in mourning at all.
I don’t know why I had to come. Miss Vivee wouldn’t ride with anyone else. Told me I had to take her. I’d given up long ago trying to do something other than what she wanted me to do.
The “cousins” were there before anyone else. Charlie smiled surreptitiously at us, head down. Ron grunted a few times, don’t think it was him acknowledging us because he never spoke. I was beginning to think that sounds just escaped involuntarily from his body.
The lawyer knew everyone but the cousins, including Sydney. He hugged her and told her he was sorry for her loss.
That started Miss Vivee to hitting me again. My thigh was still sore from the memorial service.
“This won’t take long,” the lawyer said looking over his glasses at us. “If you have any questions, please wait until I’m finished,” he directed then looking at Ron, he said, “And there are not to be any outbursts.”
Ron grunted again. Still no words came out.
“I, Oliver Gibbons, residing in Yasamee, Georgia and being of sound body and mind do hereby publish and declare the foregoing as my last will and testament and revoke any previous wills or codicils heretofore made by me.
“I devise and bequest the following: To my good friend and confidant, Renmar Colquett, I leave all my interest in Stalling Island that I may have at the time of my death and the sum of one hundred thousand dollars from my estate.
“To my cousin Hazel Cobb, I leave fifty-thousand dollars.
“To Brie and Vivienne Pennywell, I leave each fifty-thousand dollars.
“And to my beloved wife, Sydney Allston-Gibbons, I leave the rest and my remainder of my estate of whatsoever kind and character and wheresoever situated.
He looked up and smiled. “That’s it. Short and simple, huh?”
“What do you mean that’s it?” Ron growled. “What about Charlotte?”
The lawyer looked back down at the will on his desk, picked it and turned it over in an exaggerated gesture. “No Charlotte on here.”
“What about his house?” Ron asked.
The lawyer pointed to Sydney. “She gets it and everything that these other good folks didn’t get.”
“How much is that?” he barked.
“Well, it’s hard to determine right at this moment, but with cash, his stocks, and the land here in Yasamee, I’d say somewhere between ten to fifteen million.”
Ron gasped so loud I thought he suck up all the air in the room. He glared at Sydney with a “You won’t get a thing” look in his eye. Then popped up and left the room forgetting all about Charlie. Slamming the door on his exit.
We single-filed out of the room and found Bay waiting in the hallway.
I hadn’t seen him since the Memorial service. He was all suited down, looking so handsome. I scooted up next to him and wrapped my pinky around his on the sly. No PDAs in the lawyer’s office or, after getting caught in the closet, in front of Miss Vivee. He glanced at me he gave me a smile and a wink.
“We just finished searching the house,” he made a general announcement. “I’m driving back up to Atlanta with the evidence so I can’t stay here too long. I’ve got Tom in the car babysitting it. I don’t want any problems with chain of custody.”
“You searched the house?” Sydney asked.
“Had to,” Bay said and looked from his grandmother to his mother. “Oliver’s death has been classified as a homicide.” He licked his lips, his face evident that he didn’t like the report he was giving. “But I just wanted to let everyone know about the house. I removed the crime scene tap.”
“Sydney got the house,” Renmar said and smiled at her.
“”Beachfront property. Any girl’s dream,” Sydney said. “But without anyone to spend it with . . .” her voice trailed off.
Could she still be in love with Oliver? After all of his infidelity?
“Okay,” Bay said looking at Sydney. “Maybe now we’ll get to see more of you.” He smiled at her. “Anyway. You can go in it now. Anytime you want.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sirens blazing, we heard them from the dining room, heading somewhere close to the house. A few minutes later the phone rang.
My stomach felt like something bad was getting ready to happen.
We were sitting in the kitchen talking, reminiscing about Oliver, and Renmar gushing over Sydney. It was soon after Koryn had said her good-byes. She was driving up to Augusta to catch a plane to Nevada. She had rented the car for the short drive and wouldn’t allow me to take her. She was just ready to go it seemed and just couldn’t wait.
Sydney and Renmar had become fast friends. At the repast, and then Renmar had invited Sydney to stay at the Maypop until she was ready to go back to Savannah. And the whole time after the service, they had been inseparable.
Brie came into the kitchen. She had a look of dread on her face. “There’s an ambulance and the Sheriff’s car over at Oliver’s beach house.”
“What in the world?” Miss Vivee said.
“Sydney,” Renmar said the one word and popped up from her seat.
“What happened?” I asked.
Brie hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know. Trouble over there is all I got.”
“I’m going over there,” Renmar said.
“I’m going, too,” Miss Vivee said.
“No. Mother. You stay here,” Renmar said. “It’s late and I don’t know what’s going on over there. I don’t want to have to worry about you, too.”
Miss Vivee gave me a look. I knew just what the look meant. I wasn’t sure if I liked that I was close enough with her – a ninety year old – that I could read her like a BFF.
I shook my head. “No.” My eyes said, “I’m not doing it.” She scrunched up her eyes saying, “Do it!” And I did the same but my eyes defiantly replied, “Fine.”
“Renmar,” I said out loud. “I’ll ride with you.” I saw Miss Vivee smile as I said what she wanted me to. She only wanted me to go to find out what happened. She was such a busybody. And not caring that she may be sending me out with a murderer.
“It’s late,” I continued and looked at Renmar. “And like you said you don’t know what’s going on over there. You shouldn’t go by yourself.”
“Thank you, Logan,” Renmar said. “Let me get a sweater first.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll get my car. I can drive.”
I hadn’t ever been anywhere alone with Renmar and while now I wasn’t really frightened to be with her, it did feel kind of weird. From what I knew about Renmar, I decided, wasn’t enough to make a concl
usion with any certainty on whether she could kill Oliver. But she had made Miss Vivee’s list of suspects. Twice. And Miss Vivee was pretty astute.
Chapter Thirty
When we got to Oliver . . . Sydney’s place they were putting her in an ambulance.
“What happened?” Renmar asked the ambulance driver.
“Electrical shock. Almost killed her. She hit the light switch right inside the door, charge went right through her.”
That was the same switch that Miss Vivee and I had turned on when we were in the house.
“Did it just become defective I asked?”
“No,” he said. “It probably would have had to be like that for a long time.” He glanced toward the ambulance. “She’s really lucky.”
It might have been luck that she survived, but it wasn’t because of long defective wiring that she’d been put in harm’s way.
“Can I talk to her?” Renmar asked.
“We’re stabilizing her,” he said. “Pulling off any minute to get her to the hospital. I don’t think you’ll have any time to visit with her.”
“Were are you going?” I asked.
“Augusta,” he said, “Mercy General,” and walked away.
“I’m going to go up there to be with her.” Renmar looked at me. “I’ll go back and get my car,” she said. “You don’t need to go.”
“You want me to ride up there with you?” I felt bad for Renmar. She’d taken a liking to Sydney. And whatever else was going on with her, and being that she was Bay’s mother, I felt like I should at least offer.
Plus, I liked Renmar.
“No, baby. I’m good. I don’t want her to be up there by herself.” She looked at me and smiled. “I don’t know why, but I just took to Sydney, you know?” she said. “I liked to be there for her. I think Oliver would like that, too.”
We got back to the Maypop, but before Renmar could take off to Augusta, Charlie walked in. We were all hanging out in the dining room talking about what happened to Sydney when I saw her standing in the archway coming from the foyer. She stood, tugging on the bottom of her blouse with tears in her eyes, almost the same way she looked the day she’d learned about Oliver and was standing on the porch while her husband and Bay had it out. She didn’t say anything, and I think would have stood there nervous and immobile until someone took notice of her. Luckily it didn’t take long for me to see her.
Coastal Cottage Calamity (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 11
