A Peach of a Murder

by Livia J. Washburn

  “Those sound like words to live by.” Charles smiled. “I try to.”

  “Well … I have to admit that my car’s not really giving me any problems, and if you think I ought to stick with it a while longer, I will.”

  “Just remember who gave you that good advice, and when you need to replace your Lincoln, you come see me again.”

  “Oh, 1 will.” Phyllis hesitated. “While I’m here, I’d like to tell you just how sorry I am about what happened to your brother.”

  A solemn expression appeared on Charles’s face, and he nodded slowly. “It was a terrible shock, all right. I appreciate your words of condolence, Miz Newsom.” He paused. “Although I suppose under the circumstances, what happened was almost as shocking for you as it was for my sister and me.” “It was horrible,” Phyllis admitted. “For a moment there, I … I really did think that I might have been to blame for … for what happened.”

  Phyllis blinked her eyes and raised a hand to cover them, as if trying to conceal the fact that she was about to cry. She had never thought of herself as any sort of an actress, but she must have been convincing, because Charles Boatwright stepped toward her quickly, touched her arm, and said, “Oh, no, Miz Newsom, please don’t blame yourself. We all know now that you had nothing to do with it.”

  “Yes, but … he had just eaten some of my cobbler… .” Charles looked around the showroom. A couple of his salesmen were talking to other customers, and there were people out in the service area, but other than that, the place wasn’t busy. He said, “Why don’t you come into my office and sit down for a minute? I don’t like for anyone to leave Boatwright Motors upset.”

  “I … I think I would like that,” Phyllis said. “Thank you, Mr. Boatwright.”

  He took her arm and steered her toward a door that led off the showroom floor. “Please, call me Charles,” he said. “Would you like a cup of coffee, or a cold drink?”

  “Some coffee would be very nice.”

  “We’ll get you settled in the office, and I’ll bring you a cup.”

  Phyllis felt a twinge of guilt as Charles took her into his spacious, wood-paneled office and set her down in a comfortable leather chair in front of his desk. Here she was, putting on a big show of being upset, and he was trying to be nice to her.

  But she wanted to find out more about the relationship between Donnie Boatwright and his brother and sister, and this was the only way she’d been able to think of.

  Charles said, “I’ll be right back,” and left her sitting in the office. Phyllis frowned at the desk, wondering if she ought to take this opportunity to rifle through it. That was one of the things detectives did, wasn’t it?

  But she realized that she wouldn’t really know what she was looking for, and anyway, Charles probably kept any important documents locked up. And since the poison that had killed Donnie probably had come from peach pits, it wasn’t like she could open a desk drawer and find a bottle of arsenic or something like that in it. Locating the murder weapon wouldn’t be that convenient in this case.

  Maybe she could find something that would indicate the car dealership was going broke. That would strengthen Charles’s motive. His brother had cheated him out of his inheritance, and now his business was failing. That would be a reason to get mad enough to kill, wouldn’t it?

  But for one thing, all you had to do was take a look around the dealership to know that it was doing just fine. The place practically reeked of success. That could be a sham, of course, a cleverly constructed facade, but Phyllis didn’t think that was the case. And for another thing, she didn’t want to get caught searching the desk. So she stayed where she was in the leather chair, although she did have the presence of mind to take a lacy handkerchief from her purse and clutch it in her hand as if she had been using it to dab at her eyes.

  Charles came back into the office a minute later, so Phyllis was glad she hadn’t tried to get into his desk. He carried a Styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand, along with packets of sugar, artificial sweetener, and nondairy creamer in the other hand. “I didn’t know how you take your coffee,” he said, “so I brought some of everything.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Boatwright. I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

  “No bother at all,” he said as he handed the cup to her and placed the other things on the front edge of the desk where she could reach them easily. “And I told you to call me Charles.”

  Phyllis summoned up a smile. “‘then thank you, Charles.” She set the cup on the desk and emptied some creamer and artificial sweetener into the coffee. She lifted it to her mouth, took a sip, and said, “That’s very good.”

  “Well, you just take your time with it.” “I hate to keep you from your work……

  He sat down behind the desk and gave another of those expansive hand waves that seemed to be a habit with him. “You’re not keeping me from anything.” He smiled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret…. This place practically runs itself. The key is hiring good people.”

  “I know several people who say they wouldn’t buy a car from anybody else.”

  “Why, that’s mighty nice to hear. It’s been a pleasure serving the good people of Weatherford and Parker County for all these years. “

  He sounded a little like a TV commercial, Phyllis thought. She supposed that when you were in the business of selling cars, that became a habit, too. She took another couple of sips of coffee and then said, “I’m really glad you don’t hold a grudge against me because of what happened to your brother. I hesitated about coming here today because of that.”

  “Goodness, why in the world would you feel that way?” Charles asked with a frown. “You didn’t have anything to do with his death.”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, I certainly understand, but… do the police have any idea who was responsible?” What looked like anger flashed in Charles’s eyes. “If they do, they haven’t told me about it,” he said, his tone growing sharp. “And I don’t mind saying, my sister and I are rather upset about it. They won’t tell us if they have any suspects, or anything else about the investigation.”

  Phyllis felt a flash of relief. That meant the police were keeping their suspicions of Carolyn to themselves, at least for the time being. She was convinced Carolyn was innocent, so there was no point in the story of what Donnie had done to Sandra ever getting out to the public.

  “Mat must be terribly frustrating,” she said.

  Charles nodded. “It is. I’ve heard that with every day that goes by in a murder case, the chances of catching the killer go down. I just hate to think that whoever killed Donnie might get away with it.”

  “I don’t see how anybody could want to hurt your brother. He did so much for Weatherford and for Parker County, and I’m sure he did that much or more for his family.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say-” Charles stopped himself. After a moment, as Phyllis looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face, he went on. “There are little spats in every family. And Donnie was my big brother, after all. Brothers always fight sometimes.”

  Phyllis allowed herself a smile. “Mine certainly did.”

  “I remember a time …” Charles leaned back in his chair and smiled a little. Phyllis knew that people seemed to like talking to her. She supposed she had developed that ability during her years as a teacher, because sometimes you needed the students to open up to you. Charles went on. “We were swimming over in the Clear Fork, before they ever built the lake, and Donnie kept dunking me. He thought it was so funny, and he just wouldn’t stop. I got so aggravated at him I could have just-“

  Phyllis expected Charles to say killed him, but instead he stopped short, and to Phyllis’s surprise a tear welled from the corner of his right eye and ran down his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he went on as he brushed it away. “I don’t mean to get all maudlin. It’s just that talking about Donnie brings back so many memories.”

  “I understand,” Phyllis said.

  “When you lose somebody, even
the memories of them that aren’t so good become precious in their own way.” Phyllis nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. There were days when I wanted to strangle my husband, but since he’s been gone, even those times mean so much to me.” “Exactly,” Charles said. “Even when Donnie would pull some stunt that you didn’t like-and he could pull some doozies, let me tell you-once you got over being mad you’d see that he was, well, just being Donnie. You couldn’t stay upset with him. I know I never could.”

  Was he telling the truth, Phyllis asked herself, or was he just trying to cover up the rage he had felt for years-the rage at the injustice of it all, which had built up until Charles Boatwright finally snapped and did something to get even with his older brother?

  I’m, well,” Charles went on after a moment of silence, “you didn’t come here to listen to me reminisce about bonnie. I’m sure you must have better things to do.”

  “No, that’s fine,” Phyllis said quickly. “If our conversation made you relive some good times, I’m glad. And I know talking to you has made me feel better.”

  “Well, good. I guess I had better get back to work, though…. “

  Phyllis took one more sip of coffee and then set the cup on the desk. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I was a bother.” “Not at all, not at all.” Charles came to his feet as Phyllis stood up. “Now, you remember what I told you about coming to see me when you do get ready for a new car. I’ll see to it that you get the best deal in Parker County.”

  “Thank you, Charles.” Phyllis tucked her handkerchief back in her purse. She hoped he hadn’t noticed that her eyes weren’t red, as they would have been if she had really been crying. Probably not, she decided, since the very idea of a woman crying gave most men the fantods. They were too busy feeling uncomfortable and wondering what they should do to pay much attention to what was really going on.

  With a smile, Phyllis left the office. She walked across the showroom and out the door to the parking lot, where she had left her car. To her left was the service area, and in front of and beyond it was the large lot where late-model used cars were parked. To her right was the sweeping lot full of new vehicles. Just looking at all the cars made Phyllis realize that her thoughts about the dealership possibly going under had been foolish. Charles Boatwright was doing very well. He might harbor some resentment toward his brother for the fast one Donnie had pulled when their mother passed away, but was it likely he hated Donnie enough because of it to poison him?

  Phyllis didn’t think so.

  And yet there had been that moment when Charles had spoken of the incident in the Clear Fork of the Trinity River, when he and Donnie were young. True, the moment had been a fleeting one, but for a second there Phyllis had been convinced she saw a lot of long-forgotten anger in Charles’s eyes. She was leaning away from regarding him as a strong suspect in Donnie’s murder, but she couldn’t eliminate him entirely.

  As she drove away, her mind went back to the story of Cain and Abel. While it was hard for her to even conceive of one brother hating another enough to kill him, there was plenty of precedent. Cain had murdered Abel out of jealousy, and down through the ages, time and again, brother had slain brother for that reason, and for all the other possible combinations of greed and lust and ambition you could think of. It happened sometimes, and maybe Charles Boatwright was just a damed good actor.

  She supposed she needed to keep digging. She had done enough gardening to know that to get the results you wanted, most of the time you had to get your hands dirty.

  Chapter 21

  When Phyllis got home, she found Mike waiting for her on the front porch. He and Sam Fletcher were sitting in two of the rocking chairs, glasses of iced tea in their hands. Phyllis saw them as she drove past the house and turned into the driveway. When she got out of the Lincoln, instead of going into the kitchen, she left the garage door open and walked out into the driveway, then followed the path of round cement blocks across the grass to the front walk.

  “You gentlemen look like you’re taking life easy,” she commented as she climbed the steps to the porch.

  “That’s the only way to take it,” Sam replied with a smile. He lifted his glass of tea as if he were toasting her with it. “Where have you been, Mom?” Mike asked.

  For a second, Phyllis wondered how he would react if she said she’d been out trying to find a killer. She glanced at Sam. Had he called Mike and told him that his mother had decided to play detective? He couldn’t have, she decided, because she hadn’t confided her plans to him before she left. She had figured out already, though, that Sam was pretty shrewd, especially for a man. There was no telling what he had figured out.

  Those thoughts flashed through Phyllis’s mind in an instant, as she smiled and said, “Oh, just out running around. Shopping and things.”

  “You don’t have any packages,” Mike pointed out.

  “You never knew that pretty little wife of yours to go shopping without buying anything?”

  “Well, now that you mention it…” Mike said with a shrug. He took a drink of tea and went on. “I came by because I thought you’d like to hear how things are going with the Boatwright investigation.”

  Phyllis sat down in the rocker next to him, her purse on her lap. “Can you do that?” she asked. “I mean, can you tell me about it without getting in trouble?”

  He chuckled and said, “You’re already mixed up in it.” Once again she felt a surge of worry. “You were there when Mr. Boatwright died, and one of your friends is the leading suspect. I’d say that gives you a right to hear about it, and if the sheriff doesn’t like it, he can go jump in the lake.”

  Phyllis smiled. Despite being a grown man with a family of his own, there were times when Mike still seemed just like a little boy to her, and this was one of them.

  Sam made a motion to get up. “I’ll go on in the house, since I reckon you’ll want to talk to your mom alone, Mike.” “No, that’s all right, Mr. Fletcher,” Mike said quickly. “I know you’re trustworthy, or my mother never would have let you live here in the first place.”

  Sam settled back in the rocker. “I appreciate that. I like to think I can keep my mouth shut when I need to.”

  “Go ahead, Mike,” Phyllis urged, glad that Sam was staying. It made her feel somehow like less of the burden was on her. “What have you found out?”

  “Not a lot, unfortunately,” Mike said with a little sigh. “Sandra Webster’s alibi checks out. She and her husband didn’t go to the peach festival. They were over in Fort Worth, and they’ve got the credit card receipts from the stores where they shopped, with the date and time on them to prove it.”

  “Just because one of them was there using a credit card doesn’t mean the other one was,” Sam said.

  “It does when one of them signed the receipts in some places and the other signed at the other stores. Plus we talked to the employees at the various places and found several of them who remembered both Sandra and Jerry Webster being there on Saturday.”

  “Kids who work minimum-wage jobs in mall stores remembered two customers out of the hundreds who come through on a Saturday?” Phyllis asked. She wasn’t trying to destroy Sandra’s alibi, but that still struck her as unlikely.

  “Well;’ Mike said with a smile, “evidently Sandra Webster is the sort of customer who likes to complain about anything and everything. That would make her more memorable.”

  Phyllis supposed that was true. Anyway, she didn’t believe that Sandra had killed Donnie Boatwright any more than she believed that Carolyn was a murderer. If Sandra had a legitimate alibi, that was a good thing. It meant she was in. the clear.

  But it also meant that Carolyn was still the chief suspect in Donnie’s murder. Phyllis supposed that the way she felt now was what people talked about when they referred to mixed emotions. She couldn’t be too glad about Sandra’s alibi, because it made things look even worse for Carolyn.

  What she needed was for someone else to be revealed as Donnie’s murderer, so
that both of them would be cleared. “What else have you found out?” she asked. “Have you looked into Donnie Boatwright’s background? Surely there was somebody else, besides Carolyn who had a good reason not to like him.”

  Maybe that little nudge would point Mike, and by extension the rest of the officers investigating the case, in the right direction, Phyllis thought.

  “Mr. Boatwright’s life was pretty much an open book,” Mike said. “He never had any serious trouble with anybody, never got arrested, never pressed charges against anybody except Sandra Webster-and those were dropped-and he was never involved in any lawsuits. He was about as squeaky-clean as anybody you’ll ever find.”

  No, he wasn’t, Phyllis wanted to say, but then she would have had to explain how she had discovered the things she had learned. If Mike found out that she was conducting an investigation of her own, she knew good and well he would tell her to stop it, to leave those things to the proper authorities. She was afraid that if she did, though, sooner or later Carolyn was going to be arrested for murder, or at least taken in for questioning. They had no way of tying her directly to the dangerous chemical that had been put in Donnie’s water, nor did they have any witnesses who had seen her tampering with the water bottle. That meant the case against her was purely circumstantial, and in the end the district attorney might decide not to go ahead with it.