Murder, Mayhem and Bliss

by Loulou Harrington

“Enough about me.” Vivian’s voice grew farther away. “Get back to all the naughty bits Bliss doesn’t need to hear.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jesse turned to Maria and grinned. “We have our marching orders.”

  “I didn’t know what I was getting into when I came over here, did I?” the girl responded with a slight smile of her own.

  “If you can get over being scared of her, Vivian’s really quite nice.”

  “What did she mean about naughty bits?”

  Jesse shrugged. “Any other women or underhanded things Harry’s been doing that might make this all worse for Bliss. But stuff that we need to know if it might have had anything to do with his death, just in case it wasn’t strictly accidental.”

  Maria shrank back and her expressive eyes grew round. “What do you mean in case it wasn’t accidental? You don’t mean… You don’t think…” She groped for words and finally said, “You can’t think anyone did anything to him. That’s not…”

  Then, she covered her cheeks with her hands and sat staring into space, mouth agape. From which, Jesse concluded that Vivian’s theory of murder had not yet begun to occur to other people. Except for the police, whose job it was to think of things like that, hopefully before it began to occur to others, even others like Vivian, who was definitely ahead of the curve.

  Jesse wasn’t really sure who had won this toss up, Vivian or Joe Tyler, but she had begun to agree with her friend. There was almost too much going on here for the word “accident” to be a part of the language. However, she couldn’t think of it as murder, either, not yet. She couldn’t, and she wouldn’t. It was, as the sheriff himself had said, a mystery. And mysteries were made to be solved.

  Preferably over a pitcher of daiquiris.

  Chapter Ten

  Marla Murphy dropped into a chair opposite Joe Tyler’s desk and heaved a sigh. He recognized the feeling. It had been a long, busy and demanding day. They were all ready for it to be over.

  “I tell you, boss, I don’t think she did it. If anything was done, that is.” Deputy Murphy leaned forward with her elbows braced on her knees. “I just spent two hours watching a whipped puppy wander around her house looking lost, lonely and confused. Whatever the problems were in that marriage, it was still a marriage, in my opinion, and that woman is in mourning.”

  With that, Marla Murphy relaxed against the back of her chair and waited for a response.

  Joe tossed her the copy of the photograph that was on his desk when he returned to the office. “Recognize her yet?” he asked.

  She stared at the photo, then shook her head. “Still looks damned familiar, but it’s like it’s just out of reach.”

  “Remember Ginny Spurber?”

  Marla sucked in a breath. “Oh, no!” She curled down over the picture for a closer look. “Oh, crap.” Then she dropped her head back on her shoulders, closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. “Damn. That girl has haunted me.”

  “I have a feeling,” Joe said quietly, “that she’s about to haunt us all.”

  He had known at the time that the death had bothered Marla more than the rest of them, possibly because they were both young, single women without close family ties.

  “She looks different here,” Marla said, studying the picture again.

  “She looks alive. But you’re right. We probably wouldn’t have recognized him either, if we’d run across the picture a few months from now somewhere else.”

  “Boss,” Marla slowly straightened, staring hard at the photo, “this was taken in her bed.” Frowning, she lifted her gaze to his. “We need to get back into that apartment and figure out where this camera was set up.”

  Joe nodded his agreement, having already said the same to Arnie. “And we need to talk to her neighbor again. This picture could be five years old, or it could be from the night she died. We need to know a lot more than we do.”

  “I can start on it, if you want,” Marla offered eagerly. “If the neighbor was holding out on us because of loyalty to Ginny, she might open up to me faster than to another deputy.”

  “Why don’t you grab Leo,” Joe suggested, thinking of their newest deputy who needed more field experience. “He can help canvas other residents while you’re talking to the neighbor who found her. Take along a couple of pictures of Kerr and see if anyone saw him coming or going during the spring. Maybe somebody noticed a strange car parked outside while she was still living there.”

  “And if they ask why?”

  “Tell them it’s a side investigation related to another incident. And Marla, I appreciate your insights,” he said as the deputy popped up from her chair and prepared to leave. “I agree that the grieving widow seems about as dangerous as a kitten, but the evidence we’ve collected so far doesn’t bear that out.”

  He spread his hands and started ticking off the reasons on his fingers. “According to the paperwork we found when we searched their house, the business and everything they own goes to her, along with one hellacious life insurance policy. And besides the money, Kerr was a first-class scumbag.”

  Joe tapped the photo on his desk. “With pictures to prove it. If he ever made any effort to hide his activities, he did one hell of a lousy job of it. And the fact that his wife may have really loved him, just makes it worse. I mean, how long are you going to have your face rubbed in something like that before you snap?”

  “Damning as it sounds,” Marla agreed, “and it sounds pretty damning, it’s all just circumstantial. And it could still turn out to be natural causes.”

  Joe nodded. “Which is why we’re just sitting here talking about it and not out arresting anybody.”

  “Oh, yeah, that reminds me.” She paused in her leave taking and grimaced. “Remember Bill Marshall, the ex-partner who got dumped a few years back?”

  “Yeah,” Joe drawled while he waited for the punch line that was obviously on its way.

  “Well, he was at the Windsor Mansion when I got there today, and whatever happened between the two men.…” She paused for effect, then went on. “The relationship between Marshall and Mrs. Kerr is still warm and friendly. Very warm and friendly. I was only there a couple of minutes, and it was pretty obvious.”

  “How obvious?” Joe leaned forward with a stirring of genuine interest at a possible new direction for their possible case. “Like they could be having an affair?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, he was practically goo-goo eyed, but his wife was sitting right there. It’s like they weren’t even aware of the signals they were giving off.”

  “How about the wife? Was she bothered?”

  Marla snorted and rolled her eyes. “Not at all.”

  “Then I would guess there’s nothing going on.” He relaxed again, tucking the information away just in case. “It’s probably nothing but a really close relationship going back a long way, and they’re all accustomed to it.”

  She looked at him in disgust. “You sound just like a man. If it involves feelings, then it’s gossip, and you don’t want to get involved. Unless it turns out to be a crime of passion, and then it’s all about the feelings.” She tossed her hands in the air. “And then, hey, Marla was right!”

  “And, that’s why we value your input, Marla,” he said, bowing from the waist. “You notice the things that make the rest of us shudder and instinctively turn away, being the guys that we are.”

  She grinned. “So, does that mean I get to check out Marshall, too?

  He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t get greedy. You’ve got enough to keep you and Leo busy for days. Besides, I want to do it myself.”

  Her answering laughter lingered as she turned and left. Staring at the door she closed behind her, Joe leaned back in his chair, raised his booted feet to the cluttered surface of his desk, and rested one ankle atop the other. He wasn’t naturally an intrusive person. He liked solving puzzles, but he hated the part of his job that required turning over the rocks in people’s lives and looking at what lay underneath.
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  Even the most innocent person had secrets that he wouldn’t want exposed. But all you had to do was be standing too close to an unexplained death, and everything you held most private came tumbling out for public scrutiny. It wasn’t fair, and it certainly wasn’t pretty. But once the lid on that box was open, nothing in your life would be the same again. And all of that was about to start with anyone close to Harry Kerr, especially his wife and the ex-business partner.

  The phone on Joe’s desk rang with jolting suddenness, pulling him out of his reflective thoughts and into the moment. He lifted the receiver. “Sheriff Tyler.”

  “It’s morphine,” Arnie said without preliminary.

  “What?” Joe recognized the voice but had trouble computing the meaning.

  “The drug,” Arnie explained impatiently. “It was morphine. There were traces in the tissue at the injection site on his neck and enough in his blood stream to render him at least semi-conscious.”

  “Not enough to kill him?” Joe didn’t like the feeling of struggling to catch up, but there it was. He wasn’t a forensics guy.

  “Probably not. He wasn’t a small man, and he had muscle mass. It also didn’t go directly into an artery. Some got into the carotid and would have made its way to his brain, but most of it was absorbed more slowly. However,” Arnie added, warming to his subject, “it was in the neck, not the thigh, so it was a pretty effective delivery system over all.”

  “Which means what?” Joe hated to be obtuse, but it was getting late, and he was tired.

  Arnie snorted and explained more slowly. “He would have been mellower and easier to manage almost immediately. He would have been increasingly uncoordinated physically. And if enough time passed before he went into the pool, he probably would not have stayed conscious long enough to get himself back out. The more he exerted himself, the harder his heart beat, and the more the drug would have pumped into his system.”

  “Which makes it premeditated,” Joe said, absorbing the gist of Arnie’s information. “And once Kerr went into the pool, and became unconscious, it made it murder.”

  “That would be my ruling,” Arnie agreed cheerfully. “Oh, and I finished the exam. He was a healthy, relatively physically fit male of 36, with nothing to indicate a natural death now or anytime in the foreseeable future.”

  Joe let out a long, deep sigh and rubbed his free hand across his temple. “Holy crap.” It was murder. His mind and stomach both rolled over at the thought.

  “You have my sympathy,” Arnie said, not sounding the least bit sympathetic. “May I go home now and enjoy what’s left of my football evening from my recliner?”

  “You may. And I thank you.” Joe prepared to hang up. He had just been given a lot to digest. And every new piece of information seemed to make an already long day grow even longer.

  “Oh, and I’ll be turning off my phone,” the medical examiner added. “So if you want me, you’ll have to come find me. And I’ll probably be out on the lake fishing tomorrow.”

  “I got it, Arnie,” Joe agreed. “Whatever else happens, on this case at least, it can wait until Monday.”

  “You have a good weekend, now, you hear?” Arnie chirped gleefully.

  With that they both hung up. Joe leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, his well-used chair sagging backward with the movement. His mind buzzed with new information, but it was a slow, lazy buzz. He was tired. Everybody was tired.

  They’d all done enough for one day, and arresting Bliss Kerr just wasn’t something he even wanted to think about right now. What he should do was to tell everyone to go home and get a good night’s sleep. That would be the sensible thing.

  However, what he was going to do was grab a fresh cup of coffee to add to what was already burning a hole in his stomach. Then he was going to fish out a photo of the young widow and take it by to Marla. As long as they were doing another canvas of Ginny Spurber’s apartment building, they might as well add a picture of Bliss Kerr. There was always a chance someone would remember seeing the curvaceous blond in the vicinity just before Ginny committed suicide.

  ∙∙∙•••●●●•••∙∙∙

  The conversation in the library had left strategy behind and wandered far off course by the time the daiquiri pitcher ran dry. Jesse and Sophia had shared their story of Sophia’s encounter with Sheriff Tyler and Jesse’s rescue attempt that had almost gotten both of them arrested.

  Jesse waited for the laughter to die down before she added, “I did finally apologize to him today.”

  “Oh, good for you, sweetheart,” Sophia cried with a quick hug to back up her words. “I’m so relieved.”

  “Well, I don’t know why,” Vivian said. “You may have been a little feisty, but I don’t think I would have apologized for it. Although I do see now why he’s been so short-tempered whenever you show up.” She started chuckling again. “Some of those things you said to him. That took guts.”

  “Or a lack of good sense,” Sophia suggested.

  “I can see why she apologized.” Maria jumped in on Jesse’s side. “I certainly wouldn’t want him still mad at me about that while I was making him mad at me all over again about this.” She spread her hands indicating their collective presence in the library, busily sharing details of Harry Kerr’s private life that were probably still unknown to the officers investigating his death.

  “Why would this have anything to do with Joe Tyler?” Vivian demanded.

  “Well, at work we were discussing the fact that we hadn’t told them everything we knew,” Maria said. “And whether or not that could be considered withholding information in what might turn out to be a criminal investigation.”

  “The hell you say,” was Vivian’s indignant comment.

  Maria shrugged. “Well, I believe they can arrest people for obstruction or interference, or something, in an ongoing investigation,” she offered, obviously hesitant to set Vivian off again.

  Jesse raised her hand, cautiously signaling her entry into the conversation. “I do believe that, at some point in my conversations with Sheriff Tyler, he mentioned something to that effect.” She and Maria shared a glance of solidarity.

  After all, Vivian had an almost obscene amount of wealth and social position, not to mention an entire firm of attorneys, behind her. The image of Sheriff Tyler dragging her off in cuffs for interference was laughable. But Jesse and Maria were mere mortals who had no such protection. He could and would come after them with a vengeance if they got in his way enough to irritate him.

  “Well, that’s a real buzz kill.” Sophia set her empty goblet on the coffee table. “I hate to be the voice of reason, but are we sure we actually know what we’re doing here?”

  “The last thing I want to do is cross swords with law enforcement,” Maria said with quiet but firm conviction. “But Harry’s death is sad enough. If the personal details of his life don’t have anything to do with his death, then nobody needs for all the secrets to come out into the open.”

  “Here, here!” Vivian lifted her empty glass in a toast of agreement.

  “But there’s another reason why we’re here,” Jesse added, bringing them all back around to the unpleasant truth. “If Harry’s secrets did have something to do with his death, then maybe one of those secrets got him killed. And the first person they are going to look at is Bliss.”

  “Wait. Are you talking about murder?” Sophia’s voice reflected the horror she felt.

  Jesse nodded. “We have to consider that. Vivian thinks that’s where this is headed, and my gut’s starting to agree with her.”

  Sophia stared at each of them, dumbstruck. “Are we all out of our minds?” she finally whispered.

  “Maybe,” Bliss’s quiet voice came from the doorway. “But that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”

  Startled by her silent arrival, the meaning of her words arrived a heartbeat behind. Then Jesse noticed the pallor of Bliss’s complexion and the shaking hand that clutched something white and crumpled in
its fist.

  “Has something happened?” Jesse rose and started forward.

  “I found something.” Bliss held out her hand. “I don’t know how the police missed it. But I took it.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know why. I just took it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Okay.” Jesse stopped and spread her arms to the side. “Nobody move.”

  Everyone obediently stayed put, which they were doing anyway, while Jesse cast around for something that would keep four more people from touching whatever this was that Bliss clutched in her hand. If it was real evidence of anything, they were all in enough trouble already.

  Taking a small silver tray from what had once been Malcolm Windsor’s desk, Jesse held the tray out to Bliss. “Okay, lay that on this, carefully.”

  While Bliss did as she was told, Vivian huffed in disgust. “It’s not a snake, Jesselyn. What are you doing?”

  “Fingerprints,” Jesse explained. “Maria, why don’t you help Bliss into a chair? She looks like she’s about to pass out.”

  Jesse set the tray on the desk, turned on a lamp and adjusted it to shine on the paper. Then she used two pens from the desk to smooth out the crumpled page of what looked like a standard steno pad or something similar. Small, script typeface at the top corner identified the paper as “from the desk of Harold Kerr.”

  The words on the page were printed, in a dark ink. She had read somewhere that, unlike handwriting, printing was almost anonymous. This printing looked like something from grade school. Plain, almost childish, but accurately spelled. “The pool tonight. 2:30 sharp. Come alone. Have something for you.”

  Jesse looked over her shoulder to find Bliss seated in the wingback next to Vivian, who was glowering but remained in her chair. “Did the writing look familiar to you?”

  Bliss shook her head. “No, nothing about it looked familiar except the notepaper. I don’t understand it.”

  “How about you?” Jesse asked Maria. “See if this means anything to you. Just don’t touch it,” she warned as the younger woman joined her and leaned over the note.