Boxed Set: Darling Valley Cozy Mystery Series featuring amateur female sleuth Olivia M. Granville

by Cassie Page

  The Governor yelled, “Oh, my god! Did I kill him?”

  As Olivia rushed over. She heard a scream off to her left. It was Victoria with her baby. “That’s my husband’s shirt!”

  Olivia looked down. The body of man stared past her up into the ethers. Whatever he saw was no longer of this earth. Perhaps it was Ellie Paatz welcoming him into heaven, for Olivia knew at once he was dead.

  2:3

  “Get the Governor out of here.”

  “Get that camera out of my face.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Is he dead?”

  Olivia felt herself pushed back on the podium by reporters and camera crews until she fell down. She tried to shield herself from flying shovels, chairs and feet. People stepped over her either to get a closer look at the body or to get away from it. She felt a yank on her arm and scrambled to her knees quickly, afraid the huge picture of the museum would topple over on her.

  “Olivia get up, get up.”

  It was Charles, helping her to her feet. She straightened her skirt that had slipped up over her thighs, suddenly aware that all eyes were on her to explain the catastrophe. The press swarmed over the body, knocking into one another to get close-ups.

  Olivia searched the crowd, saw Tuesday nearby and hurriedly waved her over. She grabbed her parasol and stuck it in the ground over the body shielding it from view. Charles pushed the reporters back, ignoring complaints of freedom of the press. He headed to his antique cars; made sure the teenage royalty in the front seat had been pulled away from the scene by their frantic parents. Olivia remembered Charles had been a dispatcher, was used to bringing order out of chaos.

  ‘Holy Digger O’Dell,” Tuesday said, “How’s this for a groundbreaking murder?”

  One of the reporters close by heard it and stuck a microphone in Tuesday’s face, asking her for another quote. Olivia jerked her friend away.

  She looked out over the spectators. Everyone standing, straining to get a look, unsure what had happened. A thrum of “he’s dead,” circled the crowd like a chant. Who was dead, why and how, all a mystery.

  The Governor and the few other elected officials attending the event were already in their cars or headed for them, aides with their phones jammed against their ears with one hand, shielding their charges from the press with the other.

  Cody appeared out of nowhere, his arms out to protect Olivia from anything or anyone coming at her, his eyes wide and worried. “O, you okay? Are you hurt?”

  His presence calmed Olivia, her solid reliable friend, and like Charles, her rock right now.

  She shook her head first yes then no, aware that all eyes had turned to her, expecting her to handle this crisis. She stepped gingerly over to the Governor’s shovel thrown willy-nilly over the body and leaned it against the easel. It helped her snap into her crisis mode. She pulled herself into her take-charge stance.

  “Cody, get everybody out of here. Use force if you have to. That includes the press. Tell them this is private property. Because it is. Their invitations have expired. Where are the police?”

  The crowd was milling around the podium. Women were crying, a few men were demanding something be done. But most people were stunned. Cody started to herd them towards the parking area and exit, but the two Darling Valley police officers there to guard the Governor stopped him.

  “This is a crime scene, son,” a female officer said. “We have to question these people. We’ve closed off the exits.”

  Olivia made her way towards Victoria Fisher and her baby, determined to do everything possible to protect the woman from the chaos around her. She was dimly aware of Charles Bacon somewhere behind her ushering people away from his cars.

  Blasts of thought went through her head as she pushed her way through the crowd. Was Carrie okay? She needed to get Matt over to the site. Where was Scott Pierce?

  She could see nothing but increasingly frightened faces and realized what was scaring them. Was this a murder with the killer still among them? Were they in danger? Or was this a monstrous accident?

  She reached Victoria who was quiet and stunned. A circle of workmen surrounded her like an honor guard. Two security guys stood nearby looking helpless and confused.

  Olivia took the baby from Victoria’s arms, then snapped an order. “Find this woman a chair. Go to the refreshment table and get her some water. Hurry. HURRY!”

  Bizarrely, the baby cooed and played patty cake with Olivia’s cheeks.

  In a moment, one of the workers had rescued a folding chair from the crowd, and then another for Olivia so she could sit with the baby and soothe the wife. Two cups of water appeared miraculously. Victoria pushed hers away; Olivia let the baby lap at hers. The security guys were eager to give up ownership of Victoria and rushed off to the podium, radios in hand.

  Victoria looked panicked. “You have to let me see my husband.”

  Olivia said, “Mrs. Fisher, we don’t know what exactly we have over there. There is indeed a piece of flannel, but it could belong to anyone. Just wait a few minutes for the police to get organized. They have to handle this.”

  Victoria looked pathetically at Olivia. “You don’t understand. I recognize my husband’s wedding ring. I designed it.”

  Olivia thought she would throw up.

  2:4

  Out of nowhere, sirens cut through the air and paramedics, police and fire fighters swarmed the podium, Detective Richards arriving in his unmarked car behind them. Olivia wondered who had called them. She wanted to speak to Matt, but she couldn’t leave Victoria. The baby was chewing on her hair and slapping her face and shoulders with glee. Then the baby found Olivia’s dangling earrings and leaned in to bite one. Olivia hugged her and soothed her, quickly realizing that the child was the only one here who did not need any care.

  The baby was comforting to Olivia, but she handed her back to Victoria. She needed her child close to her.

  As though some primordial signal had been sent out, women began to appear, the wealthy housewives, hardworking shopkeepers, and various residents of Darling Valley who had come to witness the beginning of a museum that was garnering worldwide attention for their little town.

  They had sensed the wife was nearby, and came to comfort her. Five or six of them. Olivia wasn’t sure if they knew each other, or if they knew Victoria. But they acted as if they did, murmuring to her, reassuring her that her daughter was fine. That they would stay with her, take care of her. And giving the false promise that people everywhere fell back on in times like this, that everything would be all right.

  Olivia noticed Mrs. Harmon joining them, sitting closest to Victoria. The baby saw the elderly woman’s pearls and grabbed them and had them in her mouth in an instant, dragging Mrs. Harmon towards her. Mrs. Harmon laughed in surprise, retrieved her very expensive binkie and replaced them with her car keys to the delight of the child. Olivia left Victoria to the women and crept away.

  Matt Richards raised his eyebrows to acknowledge her, smiled slightly, and she walked over to him. Three nights ago they’d had one of their where is this going conversations, this time initiated by Matt. She hadn’t seen him since and felt awkward meeting under such difficult and sad circumstances. She told him what she knew. That the deceased’s name was Jed Fisher, he worked on the project and his wife, inconsolable, was sitting off to the left.

  “What do you think happened?” she asked

  Richards wore a scowl that Olivia knew well. People mistook it for insensitivity in times of crisis, but she knew it meant he was deep in thought. He spoke slowly. He was running his fingers through his dark hair, his suit coat open to his long, trim torso, the holstered gun at his waist.

  “Well, there’s nothing obvious. It looks like they’ve been churning up this ground to get ready for the ceremony. I suppose he could have dug a hole, fallen in and the earthmover over there didn’t see him. Just covered him up.”

  Olivia sighed. “I think I’d like that to be the case. Why would a young guy like
that, with a sweet wife and baby have enemies who’d want to kill him?”

  “Well, that’s what I have to find out, isn’t it?”

  Why did this feel so familiar? Here she was again in picture perfect Darling Valley with a dead body at her feet. What were the odds that would happen once in her life, much less twice?

  Matt nodded towards the victim, indicating he had to get back to work. “This is a disaster.”

  “Well, I guess. That poor widow, so young . . . “

  He shook his head apologetically. “No, that’s not what I mean. The crime scene is a disaster. Look around. Everything is trampled, footprints of all these people everywhere. And everybody digging up this patch where the body was found? Say goodbye to any evidence. And whose bright idea was it to plant that umbrella over him? No telling how that has contaminated the scene.”

  Olivia grimaced, embarrassed. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I’m afraid that’s my doing. It’s Tuesday’s parasol. I was trying to shield him from the media.”

  She said it plaintively, the forensics problem clearly adding insult to injury. Matt gave her a soft look. He got it. She’d been between a rock and a hard place. And now, so was he.

  Olivia heard shouting and turned to see Scott Pierce and Charles Bacon poking fingers at each other and bellowing in each other’s faces. What now?

  She rushed over to separate them. “C’mon guys. Shut it down. You’re on camera.”

  Both men turned to see the press behind the newly erected crime scene tape with cameras trained on them.

  Olivia said, “Let’s go behind this fence.”

  As though she were a referee, both men shouted their grievances into her ear as they stepped behind the banner covering the fence. No one could see them now. Pierce seemed the more riled up of the two.

  “What about my business? What is this going to do to my reputation? I have to have some guarantees that you’re going to cover my losses.”

  Olivia asked, “What losses? Do we even know what has happened here?”

  Scott refused to be tamed. “I have contracts and deadlines. How can we work with all this going on?”

  He nodded toward the activities on the other side of the fence. The police and paramedics checking the body to see if they could resuscitate him. The coroner coming from Mill Valley, miles away.

  Scott was saying, “Look, I’m sorry as hell about that guy. I didn’t really know him. He just came on the job to handle the logging end of things. But I have twenty other guys to worry about. How am I going to pay them if I can’t meet my deadlines? We were supposed to get back to work this afternoon.”

  He turned to Bacon. “What kind of guarantees are you going to give me that you will take care of this? It’s your baby, after all.”

  Bacon’s face dropped. “Me take care of you? Why is this on me? I didn’t cause this. You have business interruption insurance. Why are we even talking about this right now? We don’t even know if you have any losses.”

  Olivia played mediator. “Look, guys. Calm down. You’re being premature talking about business problems. Mr. Fisher’s wife is close enough to hear you. A little compassion. Please.”

  “I don’t,” Scott whispered.

  “You don’t what,” asked Charles.

  “I don’t have insurance. We have liability but there was a problem with the business interruption. I didn’t find out until yesterday. It will be effective on Thursday. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

  Charles exploded. “You didn’t think it would be a problem? That was your job. How can you do business without insurance?”

  Olivia separated the two men as though they were children misbehaving in a classroom. She ordered Pierce and Bacon to go to opposite ends of the field.

  Bacon said he had to secure his cars. The police wouldn’t let him remove anything from the crime scene. Olivia suggested he find a tarp to protect them from the impending rain.

  She sent Pierce off to the trailer he used as an office.

  2:5

  Detective Johnson, Matt Richard’s partner, was trying to figure out who to interrogate first. He’d sent one officer through the crowd to get names, phone numbers and addresses so they could take witness statements later.

  One man, a well known venture capitalist used to being interviewed on CNN for his opinion on the economy or failed federal programs bristled. “Officer, are you telling me you have to ask who I am?”

  Johnson, not a man to suffer arrogance lightly, said, “Give me a minute. The perp?”

  With bulging eyes, the man said, “I’ll have your badge.”

  Johnson took it out of his wallet. “Here. You want my Blue Cross card, too? How about this credit card? It’s maxed out. I don’t have any use for it.”

  The man stomped off, then Johnson released everyone with a warning not to leave town. The workers on the site had to stay.

  “Patty cake, patty cake, baker’s man. Bake me a croissant as fast as you can.”

  Olivia turned. Tuesday was walking towards her with the baby on her shoulders, the child happily chewing the brim of her outrageous hat and bouncing in time to Tuesday’s nursery rhyme. The duo reached Olivia, the baby chirping, Tuesday with an appropriately troubled look on her face.

  “Bless you Tues for taking over the baby.”

  “Someone had to.” Tuesday twisted her shoulder to let the child slide into her arms. She rescued her hat from Emma’s mouth and deposited it back on the nearest chair. “We don’t want sweetie pie here listening in on police talk, do we?”

  She nuzzled the child’s neck until Emma squealed with pleasure.

  “Yes, sweetie girl. We are going to take care of you, aren’t we?” To Olivia she said, “I’m going to diddle-dee dee her over to that spot by the trees. And if you ask me, Ollie, I think that guy with the mustache over there is a likely suspect. I’m getting a bad vibe from him.”

  Olivia turned and spotted Tuesday’s shady guy. “Thanks, Tuesday, but that’s Maestro Cavelli, a world famous opera singer. I think he’s clean.”

  “Just trying to help. We’ll be over here if you need us.”

  And so Tuesday trooped off with the baby, jostling her as she threaded her way through the crowd. The baby lurched backwards and grabbed Tuesday’s arm for purchase. Olivia’s mouth dropped when she saw her skin come away in the baby’s hand, stretching the tattoos into unrecognizable designs. Then Olivia laughed a sigh of relief. The tattoos were on real sleeves, not on her skin. Tuesday was wearing a flesh-colored t-shirt covered with realistic tats designed to look like the real thing. She kicked herself for thinking it, but yes, she was relieved, worried that she would be tarred with the same brush, or painted with the same tat pen by people she was trying to impress in Darling Valley.

  As though his ears were ringing, the Maestro came over to Olivia, looking as disturbed as everyone else. “My dear Olivia. This feels like the plot of an opera. It is just too macabre.”

  “Oh, Signor Cavelli, I wish you could sing an aria and bring down the curtain on this mess. Speaking of which, I apologize that you came out here and didn’t even get a chance to sing.”

  “My dear, that is the least of our worries this morning.”

  Just then Victoria’s baby started wailing.

  The Maestro smiled. “Ah. My perfect audience. Come, my dear,” and he hooked his arm into Olivia’s and walked her over to Tuesday who was trying to calm the fussy baby. Tuesday had little experience with children and after a few nursery rhymes, was at a loss.

  The singer lifted the child into his arms and when the baby saw his handlebar mustache, she stopped crying and stared at him in awe for a moment, then resumed her bawling.

  He said, soothingly, “No, no, cara mia. Let’s see if a little music will soothe your soul.”

  He began singing a Brahms’ lullaby and after a few bars, his rich, velvety chords did the trick and little Emma began cooing and tugging on his mustache. Olivia pulled her tiny hand away from his mouth and kissed it as
he finished the song. A crowd had gathered, many people with tears in their eyes and everyone applauded when he finished. The man had earned his shovel.

  “No, no,” he said. “No applause for me on this occasion. Send your good thoughts to this dear baby.”

  At the great man’s modesty, the enormity of the tragedy hit Olivia and she began weeping. The singer put his arm around her and Tuesday drew close as well, the three forming a comforting wall of love around the child.

  A few minutes later, Matt escorted Victoria over to retrieve her baby and handed them off to an officer for a trip to the police station. He explained that they would find a room where she could have some peace and quiet and, if she was up to it, answer some questions about her husband.

  “I’m going to have a social worker talk to her and see what she needs. I don’t know if she has family or friends nearby. I’ll call you later, Olivia,” he said. “I’ll need to get your statement as well.”

  Just then he noticed Tuesday and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “Tuesday! Olivia said you were coming up.”

  “I couldn’t miss our girl’s big day, could I?”

  “Well, she’s going to need your company,” Matt said. He didn’t say your help, Olivia noticed. Was that a reference to stay out of police business?

  Tuesday jumped in with, “Maybe I’ll have a chance to do that Tibetan numerology reading I told you about last time, Matt. It might help you with your chakras.”

  Johnson walked up to Matt and showed him something. “A hard hat. We found it back in the trees. Maybe our vic’s. How’d he get separated from it?”

  Matt said, “Add that to the list of questions that have to be answered.”