When I found the third body in the Buxley cemetery, Sergeant Rorski and his men determined the wife did it, and they looked no further. But I had known Lucy Washington all my life, and not only did I believe she would never murder her husband, I believed her when she said she didn’t do it. It was then I furnished the murder room with a loveseat, credenza, desk, and a white board for keeping track of clues.
With my second cup of coffee in hand, I swiveled my chair around and leaned back to gaze at the empty white board. This would be the third time I was inserting myself into a murder investigation. After years of watching Law and Order, CSI, Monk, Bones, and just about every other crime show there was, I thought our small town police department didn’t put enough effort into making sure they had the right person for the crime when something major happened. At first Pepper thought I was crazy to start sleuthing, but when I found Lucy Washington’s adopted brother and the life insurance policy he had fraudulently taken out on her husband, the case ripped wide open, and Lucy was released.
Pepper and Jackie were firmly on board when I found the fourth body. Last January, Mama had arranged a blind date for me with the son of one of her cronies. I showed up at his house for a promised gourmet dinner. When he didn’t answer the door, I walked around back to see if I could peek through his windows. Instead, I peeked into the gaping hole in the back of his head as he lay face down in the snow on his deck. The police had no leads, and after only one month, they were ready to consider it a cold case. The three of us promised Mama we would try to find out what happened to her friend’s son. It took us until the end of May, but we managed to track down a man in Kentucky who had picked the day of my date to even the score on a business investment gone wrong.
I swiveled my chair around again, scooted up to the desk, and opened my laptop. I wanted to bring up my email and look at the pictures from Jackie.
There were five of them. She had included one from each side of Ruby’s body, and one close-up of her face. I printed all five. I also downloaded and printed the picture I had taken of her manicured hand. I tacked the photos across the top of the left side of the white board.
Twenty minutes later, I was leaning back in my chair and staring at the meager information. Across the top, I had written Jackie’s theory: The Pimp Did It. Below the photos were just a few lines:
Ruby Rosewell
Stripper
Pittsburgh
Arrested for Prostitution
Murdered 5:00 a.m., July 1
I stood to add one more item - Eyes closed - killer knew her. Because I had seen it on crime shows, I believed it to be true. Most people who are murdered die with their eyes open. If they are closed, it’s because the killer closed them - apparently to alleviate their guilt by not having the victim staring at them.
On the right side of the board was my rendition of the construction site. The simple drawing showed the three mounds of dirt and the location of the body. The site bordered the rear of my property and that of the Irwins next door. It suddenly dawned on me I might have a view of the crime scene.
The lone window in the room faced east. I yanked up the blinds and could almost see the third mound of dirt. I opened the window and stuck my head out. I could definitely see it now, but the large mound shielded where her body had lain. I went into my bedroom and looked out the southern window of the room. This view was of the western edge of the site. It bordered the backyards of the row of houses in the neighboring development. I could easily see the first mound of dirt where Pepper’s kids had been playing and where I flopped the bike the second time.
Until we had more information, it wasn’t much to go on. Jackie would be up for a run to Pittsburgh tomorrow, but with Pepper hosting the cookout on Tuesday, I knew she would need some convincing.
I checked my watch. It was almost two o’clock. Pepper was probably home from Mama’s an hour ago. I went back to the murder room, switched off my laptop, and turned to leave the room. Something didn’t feel right.
I hadn’t planned to do it. I didn’t believe in such things. I walked back over to the board. In the lower right-hand corner, I wrote: Paula.
Chapter Three
“Why in the world would you want to homeschool your kids?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“It’ll be fun,” Pepper said. “I’ve been reading about it, and with my teaching degree, it should be easy. You can come with us on field trips.”
“What kind of field trips?”
“We can go fishing.”
I laughed. “That’s not a field trip. That’s hooky.”
“It isn’t if you take the nature walk to get to the lake. We’ll study flora and fauna and draw pictures of what we see.”
“That sounds hot and miserable and like absolutely nothing I would ever want to do,” I said shaking my head and making a face. “I thought the kids were doing just fine in school.”
“They are, but Buck and I have been talking about this for a while now. This way our school hours will be flexible, and we’ll be able to spend time with him when he has layovers in Kentucky and West Virginia. We can leave in the morning, be with him by early afternoon, and come home the next day. He’s missing too much time with the kids, but it’s more than that. They come home with hours of homework every night, and I’ve been helping both of them so much the past couple of years, I might as well be teaching them myself.”
“What do the kids think?”
“As long as they can still see their friends after school, they’re ok with it. We’re going to try a practice day. Do you remember taking Ohio History?”
“I loved Ohio History. Mr. Garrett was dreamy, and I couldn’t wait to get to his class.”
Pepper sounded disgusted. “He wasn’t dreamy. He was creepy. How could you think that greasy black hair was dreamy?” She rolled her eyes. “But there’s a ton of cool history here, and they don’t teach it anymore, so we’re going to start schooling this summer by going to Marietta for a day. Come with us.”
I reached across the counter to swipe another deviled egg off the platter. Pepper made her eggs with dill relish and bacon added to the yolk mixture. They were delicious and addicting. “I’ll think about it. What day are you going?”
“This Friday.”
“I’m working. I can’t take off work.”
“Sure you can. You have sick days, and I know you’re sick of your job. Take a day off.”
She was right about that. I hated working at the mortgage office. My official title was Administrative Assistant, but in reality, I was a glorified receptionist. I was supposed to be the assistant to Brian McCray, the manager of our small satellite office, but he had made me his personal gofer. Go get my coffee. Go pick up my dry cleaning. Go to the post office and get my mail. He even insisted I type the minutes from his Masonic meetings, where he was the Grand Poobah every month. When he wasn’t in the office, which was often, the days dragged, the phone rarely rang, and I spent most of my time reading magazines or chatting with the guys in the insurance office next door.
I reached for another egg and said, “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
“Good,” she said as she slid the platter closer to me. “Take two. The rest are going in the refrigerator. What are you bringing on Tuesday?”
“What am I supposed to bring? Jackie said I was on dessert. You know dessert will be a disaster if I’m in charge, unless you want me to bring Cool Whip with chocolate chips stirred in. I thought you asked Jackie to bring deviled eggs and macaroni salad. Why are you making them?”
She let out a sigh. “Go ahead and bring your usual potato chips and beer. When Buck and Hank found out Jackie wasn’t making pies, they had a fit. So we switched.”
“Is Hank bringing a girlfriend? Does he even have a girlfriend?”
“Mama said he’s coming alone. He’s going to pick up her and the kids and bring them at noon. By the way, she said to tell you to get her a carton of cigarettes.”
“Why does
n’t Hank get them for her? Besides, Mama doesn’t need a carton of cigarettes. Her voice is hoarse as it is, and heaven knows what she’s done to her lungs and circulation.”
I was getting aggravated just thinking about it. It seemed a miracle Mama was still alive after chain-smoking for over forty years. It definitely irritated me that she still babied our brother Hank. He could do no wrong, and she never asked him for anything. He was three years younger than I was and had rheumatic fever as a child. He was sickly and weak for a few years but had grown into a healthy, over six-foot, muscled man. Mama still acted as though he was fragile, and she showered him with praise and attention.
“The potato chips and beer are covered,” I told her. “Stewie is bringing them.” I frowned and allowed my irritation to show. “Why did you invite him? And how did you even talk with him?”
“I saw him yesterday when he showed up at your house. I was next door chatting with Mrs. Wyler when he drove into the cul-de-sac. He parked by us, got out, and asked which house was yours. We talked for a few minutes, and when Mrs. Wyler asked him what he was doing for the holiday, he said he wasn’t doing anything. Then he told us he worked with you and that you two had a date. It seemed the polite thing to ask him to the cookout.” She could see I was unhappy. “It’s a cookout. At my house. He had nothing to do. What’s the harm, Jo?”
She was the irritated one now, but I just realized why I didn’t know Stewie was in my house yesterday. He hadn’t parked in my driveway.
“There’s no harm. I just don’t think I want to date him. It’s never a good idea to date a co-worker, and I don’t think I’ll ever get past him seeing me tear my granny panties off.”
Pepper started to giggle. It only took a few seconds before she went full-blown laughter. I couldn’t resist her infectious laugh, and we both ended up wiping tears from our eyes.
“Phew,” Pepper let out loudly. “Buck said it was one of the funniest things he’d ever seen. Stewart acting like nothing was going on, and you doing a fan dance with pillows. You know, you really should quit giving him material for his road act.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” I stood from my stool. “Are you setting up tables and chairs today? I can help if you want.”
For the next two hours, we cleaned out the garage to make room for the tables and chairs we had hosed down and scrubbed. It was supposed to be in the nineties on the Fourth, and no one would want to sit in the full sun all afternoon. It was hot, sweaty work, but filling Pepper in on the few details of Ruby’s murder helped to pass some of the time more quickly.
“Jackie and I are going to Pittsburgh for lunch tomorrow. Are you in?” I asked.
She looked astonished I would ask such a thing. “No, I’m not in. I have too much to do for the cookout.”
“Everything’s done,” I insisted. “The table and chairs are ready, the food is ready, and Buck has the yard and flower beds looking great. There’s nothing left to do.”
“I have to clean the bathrooms and run the sweeper.”
“Bullshorts. You can do it Tuesday morning. Come with us. It’ll be fun.”
I watched as she looked around the garage. I could tell she was mentally running through her checklist.
“Ok, if we’re not back too late. Where are we going?”
“I’m not sure yet. We’ll drive around until we see a place that looks good.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re not going to Pittsburgh for lunch. You’re going to look into that girl’s murder, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t help smiling, and my voice took on an excited tone. “I can’t help it, Pepper. I think I need a career change. I know I’m not cut out to be a police officer, but I could be a private eye. Jo Ravens, P.I. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? There’s something about following leads and finding out what happened when someone is murdered. It fascinates me.”
Her mouth hung open for a moment before she shook her head and said, “You’re crazy, and you’re going to end up in a lot of trouble some day.”
“Admit it. You had fun when the three of us went searching to find out who cracked my date’s skull open and left him dead in the snow.”
“It wasn’t fun spending the night in a motel room in Kentucky with spiders, dirty sheets, and you snoring.”
I pretended to be offended and said emphatically, “I don’t snore.”
She made a loud haw sound and asked, “What are you hoping to accomplish tomorrow?”
“We’ll be looking for a pimp,” I said.
~ ~ ~
“Three sausage and egg biscuits, three hash browns, and three black coffees.”
Pepper was yelling our food order for the third time into the broken down speaker box at the drive-thru of Chummy Burgers and More.
We were getting a late start. Jackie showed up at Pepper’s house right on time at nine thirty, but I was up late watching a marathon of Murder She Wrote reruns and was just dragging myself into the shower at that time. By ten fifteen, we were finally on our way, and Chummy’s was our first stop a few minutes later.
Pepper eventually handed the coffees and food over to Jackie and pulled out of the parking lot. Jackie twisted in her seat to hand a coffee to me and said, “This one has cream in it. You’ll drink it with cream, right?”
I didn’t respond but took the coffee. As long as it had caffeine, it was fine by me.
Jackie rummaged through the bag of food and said, “We have a bacon and egg biscuit, a steak and egg bagel, and an order of pancakes. There aren’t any hash browns. Who wants what?”
“I’ll take the pancakes,” I said.
That was the beauty of Chummy Burgers. The drive thru speaker hadn’t worked properly for years, and it was always a mystery as to what might actually show up in your order. A sign on the speaker indicated if you didn’t want any surprises, you had to come inside to place your order.
I was settled comfortably in the back seat. I hated driving in Pittsburgh. It was full of one-way streets, steep roads, bridges, tunnels, rivers, and drivers making Pittsburgh lefts. I found it confusing to find my way around the city. Pepper, on the other hand, wasn’t afraid to drive anywhere and was happy to act as chauffeur for the day.
The pancakes were good even though they were on the heavy side. The coffee was hot, but not by much. I hoped it would help to wake me up. The drive to Pittsburgh was an hour and forty-five minutes, and I knew I would have a hard time staying awake without some caffeine assistance.
Pepper finished her bagel and shoved the wrapper into the empty bag. “Jo, are you coming with me after work on Wednesday?”
I had no idea what she was talking about. “Where?”
“Figure Perfect. It’s the new weight loss place that opened last month over by the hospital. I told you about it last week. You don’t have to exercise. They have machines that do all the work for you.”
“I thought we were just going on diets. I don’t want to work out on machines.”
“You don’t work out,” she insisted. “The machines do the work. It’s supposed to be revolutionary, and you’re guaranteed to lose ten pounds your first month.”
Pepper and I had completely different ideas about losing weight. “I can lose ten pounds a lot faster than that with a good flu bug,” I said.
Jackie’s laugh ended with a snort. “Why do you two keep doing this? You’re both beautiful just the way you are. You don’t need to lose any weight.”
Pepper laughed as much at Jackie’s snort as she did her comment. “Oh, yeah, easy for you to say. You look like Jessica Rabbit.”
Jackie did have the curves. She definitely fell into the voluptuous category. “Jessica Rabbit? I always think of Jackie as a sexy Brenda Starr,” I said.
“Oh, yeah,” Pepper said with surprise. “She does look like her. I can’t believe I never made the connection.”
When we were little, Mama used to read the funnies to us at bedtime on Sunday nights. She loved Brenda Starr as a child and said it was the best comic st
rip ever written. She gave us extra time to look at the pictures in Brenda’s strip, and I always wanted to grow up to look and be just like Brenda Starr. I was a tad envious that Jackie was someone who did.
“You two are nuts,” she said. “This body and red hair come from my grandma. I’m the spitting image of her when she was young.”
Pepper and I sighed at the same time. It would be great to have Jackie’s figure and not have to work for it. I was mad at myself for slathering so much butter and syrup on my pancakes.
“Buck likes the way I look,” Pepper said. “He said I remind him of those Old Masters paintings, where the naked women are always portrayed as pleasingly plump, and they’re holding fruit. I really only want to lose five or ten pounds.”
Pleasingly plump and holding fruit was not how I wanted to look. Memories of being fit and thin were too recent, and I wanted to be pleasingly thin and eating fruit. “Ok, Pepper,” I said. “I’ll go with you on Wednesday. How much does it cost? How often do we have to go? And what am I supposed to wear, because I’m not wearing anything tight or revealing.”
She didn’t answer. She was concentrating on passing a truck with a dangerously swinging double trailer.
The pancakes felt like rocks in my stomach. Jackie and Pepper started talking about tomorrow’s cookout, and their voices soon became a murmur. I drifted in and out of sleep. Short dreams were coming fast and changing often. I was swabbing the deck of a ship, cooking dinner for Alan, and then playing Scrabble with Pepper and Buck. I hated that Alan showed up fairly often in my dreams. I was over him in my day-to-day life, but my subconscious missed him. Even though he was selfish and self-centered, I didn’t know if I would ever stop loving him on some level.
I heard Pepper say, “Buck’s brother and his wife are coming with their five kids.”
I drifted back to sleep.
I was now grilling burgers for five kids. Each one wanted their burger cooked a different way. My frustration was mounting, and I started swearing at all of them. It was top-notch swearing with every nasty word I had ever said in my lifetime and then some. I used my spatula to flip the burgers one at a time from the grill to the kids. Each burger fell to the ground. My laughter was maniacal. The kids faded from view. I stared at the charred meat on the ground and contemplated picking one up to eat. As I reached for the burger nearest me, the ground shook from the whip that split the burger in two. I looked up to see Paula staring intently into my eyes. She spoke. “The soup. The soup killed me.”
Maddie Cochere - Two Sisters and a Journalist 01 - Murder Under Construction Page 3
