Poppy Harmon Investigates

by Lee Hollis

  “No, I’m afraid not. I’m looking for Jayden.”

  The young man stepped, or rather stumbled, aside and dramatically waved her into the house.

  Poppy nodded and said curtly, “Thank you.”

  When she entered, she could hear Selena Gomez crooning one of her recent pop hits from an Amazon Echo speaker atop the mantel above the gas-powered, glass-enclosed fireplace.

  Several young men, mostly clothed only in brightly colored Speedos, lounged around the living room, cocktail glasses in hand, chatting and laughing.

  Poppy approached two of them.

  “Can you tell me where I can find Jayden?”

  They stared at her glumly, trying to assess what she was doing there, before one of them pointed toward the pool outside.

  Poppy headed out the sliding glass door and stopped suddenly when she realized the five or six young men splashing and frolicking in the swimming pool were completely nude.

  One of them was Jayden.

  He jumped out, shook off water, before scampering toward the deep end. He climbed up on the diving board, did a quick run right off the edge, and landed in the water in the cannonball position before playfully emerging and dunking the head of one of his friends under the water. The friend used his free arm to splash water in Jayden’s face, and both of them erupted in a fit of giggles.

  Poppy moved closer to the pool’s edge and hollered “Jayden!”

  He turned to see who was calling his name, and at the sight of Poppy, his smile instantly evaporated.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked warily.

  “I suggest you put some clothes on and clear this place out, because Shirley is on her way here right now.”

  “No she isn’t. She’s not due back until tomorrow.”

  “There was a sudden change of plans.”

  “What?” he squeaked, panic stricken.

  He hopped out of the pool and stood in front of Poppy, utterly unaware of the fact that he was flashing his privates right in her face.

  Poppy turned to two young men in Speedos who were sitting in cushioned patio chairs, sharing a joint. “Could one of you please hand me a towel?”

  Annoyed, the boy closest to her picked up a towel off the pile on the table and handed it off to her.

  Poppy threw it at Jayden.

  “You better dry off fast. She’ll be here any minute.”

  “I don’t understand . . . ,” he said, wrapping the striped green towel around his waist.

  “Do you want to explain what’s going on here, Jayden?”

  Jayden’s face fell.

  Poppy hadn’t asked him the question.

  It was his boss, Shirley Fox.

  She stood a few feet away, near the sliding glass door, her hands clasped to her hips, her face red with fury.

  Behind her was Dash, snorting like a bull ready to charge at the waving red flag in the ring.

  “I’m going to mess you up good, you little pissant!” Dash pushed past Shirley and ran at Jayden, his big hands poised to throttle him.

  “Dash, no!” Shirley cried.

  But Dash was in the zone, and Poppy feared he was going to do serious bodily harm to the poor man, so realizing she had to find a fast way to cool him down, she thrust her foot out in front of him.

  He tripped over it and went hurtling into the swimming pool.

  “Party’s over, boys! Time to go home!” Poppy announced to the gaping young men on the patio, who were watching the whole messy scene unfold.

  Poppy turned to Jayden. “Say good night to your pals, Jayden. We have a lot to discuss.”

  Jayden nodded, defeated.

  Shirley passed them to retrieve her soaking-wet and embarrassed husband, who was now climbing up the metal-rung ladder of the pool and whining about how his cell phone in his back pocket was probably ruined.

  * * *

  A half hour later, the house was empty of young men except for Jayden, who sat forlornly on the couch in the living room. Dash sat across from him in a chair, glaring at him, while Poppy and Shirley stood in front of him like a pair of prosecuting attorneys.

  Outside by the pool, three young men remained, but they were behaving and were talking quietly among themselves, so Shirley declined to eject them, at least for now.

  Jayden kept his eyes fixed on the floor and talked in a low, contrite tone. “Yes, I used my access to your accounts to make a few deposits, but I was going to pay you back, I swear!”

  “What did you spend the money on?” Poppy asked.

  Jayden squirmed a bit and whispered, “I have a new boyfriend, and I wanted to impress him, so I took him on a few weekend trips.”

  “You stole almost forty thousand dollars!” Poppy exclaimed.

  Jayden shrugged, not looking up at them. “He has very expensive taste. I just wanted him to like me.”

  Shirley folded her arms, eyes narrowing, her former impression of her devoted employee irreparably and irrevocably changed. She then shook her head, disgusted.

  “I’m calling the police right now!” Dash bellowed, springing to his feet.

  Shirley whipped her head around in the direction of her husband. “Dash, don’t make things worse. Just go make me a drink.”

  Dash shrank back like a scolded puppy and then stormed out of the room to the kitchen.

  Shirley rotated back to Jayden. “Did you steal my jewelry, too?”

  “No! I would never . . . ,” Jayden protested. “I know I don’t have a lot of credibility at this point, Shirley, and it looks really bad, but I know how much that jewelry meant to you . . . the sentimental value. . . .”

  She scowled at him, sad and disappointed.

  He went on. “That’s why I encouraged you to let me hire a detective agency to find the stolen pieces.... You’ve been so good to me. . . . I’ve always idolized you . . . and I hated seeing you so upset.... I had to do something to help. . . .”

  “But you didn’t think twice about filching my cash,” Shirley spit out.

  “I . . . I honestly didn’t think you’d even miss it . . . ,” he said weakly and then wiped away a tear that had streamed down the side of his face. “And I never dreamed that when I hired Mr. Flowers, he would find out about the missing money. . . .”

  “What about Olivia Hammersmith?” Poppy asked, stepping forward.

  Jayden finally looked up, perplexed. “What about her?”

  “I found a witness . . . I mean, Mr. Flowers found a witness who saw you arguing with her outside her house on the night she was killed.”

  Jayden’s mouth dropped open as he realized the severity of Poppy’s insinuation. He shook his head, and his hands were shaking. “No . . . I didn’t. . . .”

  “Do you deny going over to her house?”

  “No . . . I did go see her. I was worried about Shirley. I saw how upset she was after the tribute, and so I went over there and begged Olivia not to write about Shirley in her memoir, but she refused to listen to reason. She was really mean and just laughed at me. She took such great pleasure in the fact that she was going to trash Shirley and there was nothing anyone could do about it. I got so angry.”

  “And what happened when you got angry?”

  “Nothing! That creepy neighbor, the mama’s boy, Sammy, showed up, and so I left! And Ms. Hammersmith was very much alive when I did! I swear, I never touched her!”

  “If you are so innocent, then why did you feel compelled to lie about where you were that night? You claimed that you were with Shirley, but according to her, she was home with Dash and you were never there. Why didn’t you just tell the truth if you didn’t cause any harm to Olivia?”

  Jayden sighed. “I wasn’t trying to cover for myself. I didn’t want Shirley having to deal with the stress of being a murder suspect, so I lied in order to protect her, not me! I didn’t know Dash was home with her that night. He rarely is. . . .”

  Shirley appeared stung by the comment but tried not to show it.

  “I didn’t kill Olivia! I
’ll take a DNA test! Anything! You have to believe me! I’m not some cold-blooded killer!”

  “Just a conniving thief,” Shirley said.

  Dash returned with a bourbon on the rocks and handed it to his wife, still sore from being summarily dismissed from the conversation.

  The sliding glass door opened, and a blond young man in a patriotic red, white, and blue Speedo rambled into the room. “Am I interrupting? I saw that cocktails are being served. Can I get one?”

  “And just who are you?” Shirley snarled.

  “I’m Christian, Jayden’s boyfriend,” he said proudly, winking at a deflated Jayden. “Everything all right, honey?”

  Jayden nodded solemnly.

  “No, everything is not all right! I’m about to call the cops and have your boyfriend’s ass tossed in the slammer!” Dash roared.

  “Oh, come on! Jayden’s a sweetheart!” Christian cooed. “He was just trying to keep me happy! What’s so bad about skimming a tiny little bit off the top? Everybody does it! It’s not like you were ever going to miss it!”

  “Which, as it turns out, isn’t true, because here we are!” Shirley barked.

  “I suppose you encouraged him,” Poppy said with an accusing tone.

  Christian grinned, almost proud of himself. “What can I say? He loves me and would do anything for me.”

  Poppy suddenly noticed that Christian was wearing a leather bracelet with a silver clasp engraved with the initials CH.

  She gasped.

  Her face went a ghostly white.

  “Are you all right?” Shirley asked.

  Poppy gaped at the shiny silver clasp, which was the centerpiece of the bracelet. “What does the CH stand for?”

  “Christian Hartley. That’s my name.”

  “Where did you get that?” Poppy demanded to know.

  “Jayden had it made for me. Wasn’t that sweet of him?”

  Poppy spun around to face Jayden. “That clasp is made from a cuff link! How did you . . . ?”

  Jayden nodded. “I know. I found it in Shirley’s bedroom. I didn’t steal it! She said I could have it.”

  Poppy’s stomach began churning.

  She felt as if she was going to be sick.

  She turned to Shirley, whose face was now ashen.

  Poppy’s bottom lip quivered. She took a deep breath and then said in a whisper, “That cuff link belonged to my husband, Chester Harmon. CH. I bought him those cuff links for his birthday last year and had his initials engraved on them. How on earth did one wind up in your bedroom?”

  Chapter 37

  Shirley Fox was at a loss for words.

  Christian put a protective hand over the cuff link on his bracelet, as if he half expected Poppy to reach over and try to snatch it away from him.

  Dash stared at his wife, confused and dumbfounded, waiting for her to refute such an unexpected and wild accusation.

  But Shirley was stuck.

  The evidence was staring all of them in the face. Her thieving assistant, Jayden, had just inadvertently exposed what had been up to this point a very well-kept secret.

  Poppy’s face felt hot.

  A wave of nausea overcame her.

  But she managed to stand her ground, patiently waiting for Shirley to answer her question.

  “Well?” Poppy managed to choke out.

  Shirley averted her gaze from Poppy to Dash.

  “I’m sorry . . . ,” she said.

  As reality set in, Dash’s nostrils flared, and he stormed out of the room in a huff.

  Jayden hopped to his feet and murmured, “We’re going to go now, Shirley. I’ll call you tomorrow. And please, believe me. I will pay back every cent I took. I promise.”

  Shirley ignored him.

  Jayden nabbed his boyfriend, Christian, by the arm and hustled him out the door, leaving only Poppy and Shirley standing in the room. They could hear the muffled laughter of the two young men who had remained after the party and who were still poolside, oblivious to the dramatic events unfolding a mere few feet away.

  “How . . . ?” Poppy asked.

  “I can’t . . . I can’t do this now,” Shirley babbled as a flood of tears burst forth, and she ran from the room to her bedroom, where her crushed and infuriated husband awaited her.

  Poppy was alone now.

  Her mind raced.

  When did it start?

  How did their paths cross?

  Why was she finding out about it only now?

  Her whole body was numb and she felt dizzy as she quietly walked out the door to her car. She climbed in and pressed the ignition button, and the car roared to life. She was about to start the drive home when a conversation that had happened months before unexpectedly popped into her head.

  She reached for her phone and called a number from her list of contacts. After two rings, a man’s tired and scratchy voice answered.

  “Poppy, it’s past midnight. . . .”

  “I apologize for calling so late, Edwin. . . .”

  It was her lawyer, Edwin Pierce.

  The man who had broken the news about her dire financial circumstances shortly after Chester’s funeral.

  And who, she instinctively knew, also had more secrets he had been hiding from her.

  “Did you know, Edwin?”

  “Know what?”

  “About Shirley Fox.”

  There was an interminable, agonizing silence on the other end of the phone.

  She waited.

  She had all the time in the world.

  “Yes . . . ,” he finally groaned.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to add to your grief,” he cried.

  “Were there others?”

  “Poppy . . .”

  “I deserve to know, Edwin. Chester’s dead and buried. There’s no reason to keep anything from me anymore.”

  “Yes . . .”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know. Three, maybe four.”

  “Good night, Edwin.”

  She ended the call and slumped over the wheel of her car and sobbed until she became too tired to cry anymore.

  And then she drove straight home, found the other cuff link with her husband’s engraved initials on it, and tossed it in the trash.

  Chapter 38

  “What is it, Mother? Just come out with it,” Heather said, standing in the kitchen of her second-floor apartment.

  Poppy sat at the small table in the breakfast nook, staring down at the yellow flower-print cloth covering it. She took a deep breath and raised her head and beheld her daughter, whose facial expression was a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

  Matt hovered behind Heather, worried and anxious. Whatever news Poppy was about to spring on them couldn’t be good.

  “Are you sick?” Heather asked.

  Poppy shook her head. “No, I’m fine. . . .”

  “Oh, thank God!” Matt cried. “I was afraid you were going to say the C word! I just couldn’t handle you having cancer!”

  Heather shot Matt a look, silently ordering him to keep his mouth shut and allow her mother to speak.

  “I don’t have cancer,” Poppy sighed.

  “Then what is it?” Heather asked.

  “It’s about Chester. . . .”

  “What about him?”

  “It’s recently come to my attention that during the last year or so of his life, he was unfaithful to me. . . .”

  Poppy waited for Heather to react, but she remained still, listening, before nodding calmly.

  “He was cheating on me with Shirley Fox.”

  “Our client?” Matt yelled before catching himself. “I mean, your client?”

  “Yes. And apparently, there were other women, at least according to Edwin.”

  “Who’s Edwin?” Matt asked.

  “Mother’s attorney. He was also Chester’s best friend.”

  “Wow . . . ,” Matt murmured under his breath.

  Poppy studied her daughter,
who placidly approached her, bent down, and gave her a comforting hug.

  There was something off about her actions.

  They were too considered and rehearsed, as if she had been waiting for this moment to come.

  Poppy pulled away and looked her daughter straight in the eye.

  “You knew, didn’t you?”

  Matt gasped. “What?”

  Heather hesitated, tossing another peeved look at Matt, who decided it best if he just stepped back and did not continue to participate in the conversation.

  “I had my suspicions.”

  “How?”

  “Does it really matter?” Heather lamented.

  “Yes, it does,” Poppy said. “It matters to me.”

  “I ran into him at Billy Reed’s last winter, dining at an out-of-the-way corner table, away from the main dining room. It was pure happenstance that I saw him. I took a wrong turn toward the ladies’ room, and there he was.”

  “Was it Shirley Fox?”

  “No, a woman I didn’t know. A redhead, very pretty. She’s a winter resident, I think. Just in the desert during the seasonal months.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “Nothing. He introduced her as a friend of his. Fran something or other. I don’t recall her last name. I was so flustered. I managed to make some small talk, and then I turned around and made a beeline back in the direction of the ladies’ room. When I came out, Chester was waiting for me and spent five minutes still trying to convince me that she was just a friend, but even he knew how utterly unconvincing he was, and so then he changed tactics and begged me not to say anything.”

  “And you agreed?”

  Heather nodded. “Yes. He swore that she was the only woman he had ever strayed with and that he was trying to end it, because he didn’t want to jeopardize his marriage with you, and I believed him.”

  “Well, he lied.”

  “I know that now.”

  “Why on earth didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “Because I loved Chester. He always treated me like I was his real daughter, and I didn’t want to see the two of you get a divorce.”

  “That was my choice to make, not yours.”

  “I was trying to protect you!”

  “By hiding the truth from me?”

  “Mother, you can’t blame me for Chester’s past indiscretions.. . .”