Sleuthing Women

by Lois Winston

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized my folly. If Jasper Kingsland had indeed murdered Dudley, and if he suspected I was onto him, I was endangering myself. For all I knew, Jasper had a gun tucked in one of these dusty gray file cabinets back here and he’d murder me on the spot.

  I wasn’t ready to die. I had girls to raise, a Mama to take care of, and a dog that had already been traumatized once this week.

  Why wasn’t I some feminine bombshell that could infatuate a man by merely blinking my lush eyelashes? If I had Marilyn Monroe’s allure and Kathleen Turner’s deeply sensual voice, Jasper would have trouble remembering his name in my presence. I definitely needed male befuddlement if Jasper was the killer. It wasn’t like I could get up and hightail it out of here.

  I was in no position to defend myself with anything other than the small ice bag on my ankle. My only other weapon would be turning him in to the Internal Revenue Service for a tax audit.

  I’m sure something questionable could be found in his taxes if the IRS nosed around a bit. Silently I practiced my lines if he came after me. Stop! Or I’ll sic the IRS on you.

  Not exactly blood-tingling suspense but it was the best I could do on short notice. I sat very still and tried to look as nonthreatening as possible.

  Jasper kicked the daylights out of the file cabinet in the corner, and it scared me so much I almost fell out of my chair. The man had a very short fuse.

  “Do you remember that news story about the teachers’ pension fund that was drained?” Jasper asked and I nodded. “My mother had her life savings in that fund,” he continued. “She worked her entire life and for what? So some crook could skim all the money out of her account.”

  I tried to make some sense out of what Jasper said, but in my mind I was already running out of this room. At the same time, I watched him to see if he would suddenly pull a gun from a hiding place, or decide to kick my chair out from under me. If he shot me at this close range, I’d be a goner. “But Dudley worked at the bank. He didn’t have anything to do with the teachers’ pension fund.”

  “You’re wrong.” Jasper’s thick eyebrows drew together in one long unibrow. “He was the only one on the Teacher’s Fund Advisory Board that had the insider knowledge to pull off a job like this. The rest of the folks were just ordinary Joes like me.”

  Jasper wasn’t making any sense, but he’d finally quit pacing around the office. I thought about his accusation and couldn’t reconcile Dudley the swindler with the Dudley who used to vacation with me. Jasper’s story just didn’t ring true. “I don’t get it. If Dudley was involved, why wasn’t his name mentioned in the paper?”

  Jasper picked up a broken golf club shaft and whacked it against his dark brown slacks. I think I wet my undies. I definitely didn’t like being stuck back here in Rafe’s office, but my ankle throbbed too much to stand. Why weren’t there any golf clubs within my reach?

  “You’re kidding, right?” Jasper asked. “Dudley had connections. He hushed this up so no one even knew he was involved. I’m thinking he poured all that stolen money into that White Rock boondoggle. Dudley Do-right was definitely Dudley Do-wrong in my book. Every time I saw the man I wanted to whack him with my five wood.”

  That was an odd choice. The driver was the largest club in a golfer’s bag. If I was going after someone and wanted to do serious damage to them, I’d whack them with my driver. “Your five wood?” I repeated lamely.

  Jasper snorted and tossed down the broken shaft. “Yes. He’s not good enough to hit with my driver. I paid four hundred dollars for that club. But my five wood, it’s solid enough, but best of all, I never use it, so I wouldn’t miss it when I broke it on a low-life scumbag like Dudley.”

  In my estimation, Jasper didn’t seem to be homicidal, just mad. He was talking about doing something to Dudley, but that was a typical male reaction, talking about violence. And he did appear to be the type to use a golf club instead of a gun, but I really wanted to know if he owned a gun. So I asked him.

  He stopped pacing and stared at me. “You’re joking?”

  I wasn’t joking and I felt very much like I’d asked the wrong question. Did I have some bizarre death wish? Taunting a potential murderer wasn’t good for longevity.

  The air temperature in here seemed to drop twenty degrees. I shivered. How fast could I throw my ice bag at him and limp out of here?

  “Where is she? What have you done with her?” Jonette said.

  Relief swept through me. I’d never been so glad to hear Jonette’s familiar voice in my life.

  “Calm down, Ms. Moore,” I heard Rafe say. “Cleo’s in my office with Jasper. I’ll escort you back there as soon as I’m finished with this customer.”

  “Forget that,” Jonette said. “I’m not waiting for anything. I’ve already wasted too much time waiting and I have no patience left. Get out of my way.”

  I could just imagine Jonette sailing around the counter and threading her way through the crowded storage area. But what if Rafe and Jasper were in this murdering thing together? Were they tag team murderers? Was Jonette putting herself in harm’s way by joining me in the back office?

  “Cleo!” Jonette bellowed. “Where are you?”

  “Back here.” I tried not to look at Jasper’s unibrow or his clenched fists. Something was very screwy with that young man. I didn’t want to hang around here and find out exactly which screw was loose. “I had an accident.”

  “Me too, and the accident is named Detective Britt Radcliff.” Jonette rounded the corner and saw me. “You’re hurt,” she said.

  Jonette’s face was deathly pale and she wore yesterday’s golf clothes. Coffee stains dotted her white polo shirt, deep creases lined her red golf skirt. I cautiously stood up. “I’ll be fine. I need to get to work.” I would have been fine too, except my ankle gave out immediately.

  While I demonstrated my proficiency with cuss words, Jonette steadied me and dragged me out of there. “Let’s get you home.”

  I wasn’t headed home, but any place was better than this pro shop. I felt like a nursery rhyme character as I limped out, one shoe on and one shoe God knows where. The carnage in the pro shop had been stacked to one side and Christine Strand was nowhere in sight.

  As I passed Rafe and his cluster of aged customers, he emoted concern. He could emote all he wanted. I was getting out of there.

  Jonette propelled me forward and into the parking lot. I didn’t even protest as she stuffed me in her tin can of a car. “What happened to you? It’s not fair you’re hurt when it’s my hour of need.”

  My blood ran cold. “Your hour of need? What happened?”

  “I spent the night at the police station. Britt thinks I murdered Dudley.”

  NINE

  I did a double take at the news. An overnight in jail trumped a busted ankle any day of the week. “You can’t be serious.”

  Jonette started her car up and sped out of the lot. “He held me overnight while they searched my house, my car, and my bank accounts. I got strip-searched by a female officer. As if I could hide a gun in my privates. What is wrong with the cops these days? Why aren’t they out there catching the real crooks?”

  My head pounded at her angry sentences. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me, again. I couldn’t quite take it all in. “Start at the beginning. What happened after I dropped you off at the golf course yesterday afternoon?”

  “What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. Detective Britt Radcliff happened. He ruined my life. That’s what. I’ll be lucky if I still have a job after not showing up last night.”

  I rubbed my temples. “I don’t understand.”

  Jonette ran a yellow light. She held one hand on the steering wheel, the other waved feverishly in front of me. “How hard can it be to follow? If I don’t show up for my shift at the Tavern, I get sacked. Dean has to have reliable help.”

  “Calm down,” I said, thinking of our precarious safety in this tin can. “Dean’s not gonn
a fire you. He’s got the hots for you and you’re the best worker he’s ever had. We’ll tell Dean what happened and everything with your job will be fine.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Jonette grumbled. “You don’t have a gay man living in your house, taxes you can’t pay, and a crummy car that will kill us both if I wreck it.”

  “Speaking of which, slow down. Where are we going?”

  “We’re going home,” Jonette said. “I need some TLC and by golly I’m gonna get it. This is my hour of need, I tell you.”

  My work could wait. Jonette needed me. “I could use a cup of tea,” I said as she rocketed into my driveway and slammed on the brakes.

  Jonette must need TLC desperately if she was willing to let Mama see her distress. I hoped Mama took her time at the grocery store so that Jonette and I had time to talk this out.

  Of all days for me to sustain an injury, this had to be the worst. I had houseguests coming in tonight, a funeral to attend, a temporary dog that needed walking, and two daughters to watch over until the murderer was caught.

  I hobbled determinedly towards the house thinking “ouch, ouch, ouch” with every step I took. When I was halfway there, Ed Monday emerged from his shuttered house, stooped down to get his newspaper, then waved his pudgy hand. I couldn’t help staring at him.

  Now that we had a murderer on the loose, Ed Monday’s antisocial tendencies stood out like a flashing red light. I hurried inside.

  “That man creeps me out.” Jonette shuddered. “What is he doing in that dark bat cave? Isn’t he over the weight limit for vampires?”

  I couldn’t quite get the image of Ed Monday flying through the night sky to come into focus. Some things were better left as a mystery. “I dunno and I don’t want to think about Ed Monday right now. We’ve got enough to deal with as it is.”

  Jonette set me up on the sofa with an ice bag and a cup of tea. She sat down in the overstuffed chair and slipped off her shoes, sitting on her feet in the rose-covered chair. She was quiet and I respected her need to gather her thoughts.

  Until Madonna woke up and came down the stairs to greet us, it felt like old times again, with me on the sofa and Jonette in Grandmother’s chair. It made me wonder how many times life circled back in on itself. We’d sat here in this room and worked our way through our problems more times than I wanted to count.

  Jonette cooed over the dog. Madonna wagged her tail vigorously and licked Jonette’s face. “How’d you end up with Dudley’s dog?” she asked.

  “Long story,” I said. I was glad to see her respond to the dog. She’d been quiet for a long time. “The short of it is that it’s temporary. Bitsy and her boys will be here tonight so we’re trying not to become too attached. Lexy and Charla had hissy fits last night. You know how they’ve always wanted a dog.”

  “I do.” Jonette scratched under Madonna’s chin. “I understand completely. Madonna is such a cutie.”

  Cute was definitely in the eye of the beholder. Mounds of runny dog poop were not cute. Slime trails of doggie drool were not cute. “She’s not so cute at midnight when she is determined to sleep in my bed.”

  “Your bed?” Jonette stopped in mid-stroke. “What’s wrong with her dog bed?”

  I shrugged. “I’m guessing Dudley allowed her to sleep with him. I gave in because I didn’t want to traumatize her further.”

  “You’re a softie.”

  Since Jonette was talking again, I figured it was safe to get to the heart of this new problem. “Tell me about the police station. Why do they think you killed Dudley?”

  “Because they’ve all got their heads up their butts,” Jonette said. “It’s no secret I didn’t like Dudley. The man screwed me over, literally and figuratively, but I didn’t kill him.”

  My instincts might be fouled up, but there was nothing wrong with my loyalty. Jonette was my best friend and she wouldn’t lie to me about something like this. “I know you didn’t,” I said. “What I don’t know is why the police think you did. What’s the deal here?”

  “I was the last person seen with Dudley.” Jonette’s hands fluttered in front of her face. “Don’t yell at me. I was in his car and we were looking at properties that the bank was foreclosing on. We stopped for dinner at Bobo Burgers and the cashier remembers seeing us both there. When I drove home, I found out that my roommate was entertaining. I couldn’t face two gay males, so I went out for another long drive. I just drove, and when it got dark, I headed home. My roommate was occupied, so he can’t verify when I returned.”

  Jonette had always wanted a little farmette on the edge of nowhere with lots of furry animals romping around. Whenever she had spare time, she rode around looking for someone down on their luck that might want to give their place away. I’d ridden the back roads with her plenty of times, and I didn’t doubt her story for a second.

  Personally, I hoped she never scraped together enough money to pull it off because I figured the furry little animals would be cute for about ten minutes and then they’d revolt and I’d get stuck with a dozen goats and llamas. “Surely someone saw you? Didn’t you stop at any traffic lights? What about bathrooms? I know you had to pee if you were out for a long time.”

  “I stopped at the burger place near Sharpsburg, but I don’t recall seeing anyone,” Jonette said. “The parking lot was empty.”

  “Didn’t you order anything? How could you walk in there and not get French fries?”

  Jonette pointed to her hips. “I didn’t get anything because I already ate with Dudley. Besides, I’m having trouble stuffing everything in my little tavern girl outfit. Big bellies and thunder thighs may be all right for the average thirty-something, but those of us in the public eye have to be aware of our appearance.”

  Jonette weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. She’d never had a problem with her weight. “Shoot. You’re no more in the public eye than I am.”

  “But you look nice,” Jonette said. “That Rafe Golden is noticing how nice you look. And so are a lot of other men if you’d just lift your head out of the sand.”

  “I’m not a way station for hapless males.” My growing desire to jump the golf pro wasn’t something I wanted to hash over right now. It was too new, too dangerous.

  I sipped my tea. The color seemed to be coming back to Jonette’s face. She was sitting back in the chair instead of perched on the edge of it like she wanted to attack. “So, what are we going to do?” I asked.

  We were good enough friends that I didn’t have to explain. Jonette knew I was talking about Dudley’s murder even though we’d talked around that subject.

  “I’d like to string Britt Radcliff up by his heels,” Jonette said. “I thought I was under arrest, but they were holding me while they searched everything I owned to see if I had any of Dudley’s stuff. If Britt hadn’t been our Sunday School teacher, I would have walked out of there last night.”

  “Did you ask for a lawyer?”

  Jonette pounded on the upholstered chair arm. “I don’t need one snake to fight another. I’ve had enough of lawyers to last me a lifetime.”

  This was no time for Jonette to indulge in her hatred of the legal profession. “But Jonette, you’re not divorcing Britt. You should’ve asked for an attorney. They’d have gotten you out of there immediately.”

  Jonette sprung to her feet and paced my living room floor. Madonna’s tail thumped on the hardwood floor as she followed Jonette with her big brown eyes.

  “Don’t you think I know that now?” Jonette asked. “Britt kept being so nice, even though he locked me in an interrogation room. He brought me fried chicken when I complained of being hungry. It was only when they brought in another officer and made me tell the whole story again that I got worried.”

  I shivered and the ice bag fell off. Pain shot up my leg from my twisted ankle. I reached down and replaced the ice bag. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  Anger flashed in Jonette’s eyes as she made another pass around the room. “I thought I could handle it. The t
hing was, just as I got used to the idea of one thing, the next thing came along and I said to myself, “This isn’t too bad. I can handle this,” and before you know it, I was ass deep in alligators. The mayor was down there.”

  “Darnell? What does he have to do with this?”

  “When Britt brought me dinner, I heard the mayor yelling at him that having a murderer in town was bad for business. He told Britt to stick me in a cell and throw away the key.”

  “The only reason Darnell Reynolds got to be mayor is that no one else wanted the job,” I said.

  “How can you stand being around him?”

  “You know how. I don’t have to like all my accounting clients same as you don’t have to like all your tavern patrons. Darnell Reynolds is a bug and we’ll fix him.”

  Poor Jonette. She’d had men trouble all her life. She didn’t need Darnell breathing down her neck. “Listen, Jonette. You have rights. Darnell and Britt can’t take them from you, but you can give them away if you’re not careful. If you get hauled down there again, don’t just sit there and take it. Call me or Mama and we’ll get you out of there.”

  “Thanks.” Jonette’s brown eyes glassed over. She blinked furiously to keep the tears in. She wouldn’t cry in front of me. She never had. Not even when her mom had kicked her out of the house. She paused in front of the window and took a few deep breaths.

  I wanted to go to her and hold her like one of my daughters, but Jonette would knock me down if I offered her physical comfort. Emotional support was all she ever allowed.

  “We grew up here and between the two of us, we know everyone in town,” I said. “No way will the cops or the mayor know the kind of stuff we know. We’ll figure out who really killed Dudley and show those stupid men up. All they have is circumstantial evidence. Speaking of which, what circumstantial evidence do they have?”

  Jonette’s shoulders slumped and she sat again. “Go ahead and fuss at me. I yelled at Dudley in his bank office. When the cops questioned folks down there, someone remembered me screaming that I was going to kill Dudley.”