Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series)

by Dane McCaslin

  ‘Sure.’ I said hurriedly. I grabbed Leslie by the jacket sleeve and walked over to where Miss Lucinda stood.

  ‘What in the world?’ I hissed at Miss Lucinda, not wanting to be overheard by the gathering crowd of Nosey Nellies.

  She turned her eyes toward me, and I was again struck by the depth of sorrow I saw there.

  ‘I needed to run out to the car to grab a bag Derek had forgotten, and there she was.’ she said simply, turning back to nod at Josie. ‘I gave her a shake but I could tell she was already gone. Poor little girl.’ The words came out softly, mournfully, and I felt compelled to put my arm around her.

  The feelings from earlier came back to me, and I could tell by the way that Leslie was looking at me that she remembered them as well. Great. Now I would not only be known as a crazed psycho who attracts killer animals but also as a psychic, who could predict the future. The Psycho Psychic.

  I had to admit it, though; it did have a bit of a ring to it.

  ‘Jo?’ Leslie was tugging on my sleeve, pulling me back to the present. ‘Miss Lucinda asked you a question.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Lucinda,’ I said. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Where was Beatrice about twenty minutes ago? Was she with you?’ Her eyes bored into mine, her words heavy with meaning. I literally jumped back from her, anger building rapidly.

  ‘I don’t know what you are implying,’ I spluttered, but Miss Lucinda placed a placating hand on my arm.

  ‘I’m not implying anything, Jo,’ she said, her voice suddenly gentle. ‘I just don’t want her interrogated unnecessarily. She isn’t a strong person, you know.’

  I think that I did know that already, although Miss Bea could fake ‘strong’ better than anyone I had come across.

  ‘Well,’ I began, turning to look at Leslie. ‘We got here and went to the dressing rooms right away …’ My voice trailed off and I looked at Leslie. ‘Actually,’ I said slowly, ‘I walked around the dining room first, looking at the food and especially at the dessert table. Leslie, you and Miss Bea walked ahead of me, so you two went to the room first.’

  It was Leslie’s turn to squirm. ‘Ah, actually, I had to run to the little girls’ room, so Miss Bea went on ahead of me as well.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘I didn’t know something like this was going to happen.’

  ‘No one did, Leslie. Except for the killer,’ I added hastily. ‘Which I am sure is not Miss Bea, by the way.’ I stared at Miss Lucinda somewhat defiantly, daring her to contradict me.

  ‘Well, I happen to agree with you, Jo,’ said Miss Lucinda to my surprise. ‘I personally don’t think that Beatrice has a murdering bone in her body.’ Aha! I latched on to that statement tout de suite, as the French say.

  ‘Oh, really, Miss Lucinda?’ I made my voice as sweet as pie. ‘Then she couldn’t have had anything to do with Desmond’s death?’ I had trapped her but good and she knew it.

  Miss Lucinda, bless her heart, had the grace to blush. I think it was then that I decided that I liked her almost as much as I liked Miss Bea.

  ‘All right,’ she said with aplomb. ‘Maybe I was a bit hasty in my estimation of Beatrice.’ She turned around and looked at where said Beatrice was standing. ‘I suppose I wanted to track her down just for the sake of seeing her again.’ She sounded almost wistful.

  Man, these Becklaw women were cool customers, I thought admiringly. I, too, turned to look at Miss Bea. Back straight, head high, shoulders back. She truly was a warrior, ready to fight for whoever needed her. I was glad she was in my corner.

  ‘I think that we should say something to the officer, you know, something that may help Miss Bea out of whatever it is she’s accused of.’

  I wish that I had kept my trap shut. Leslie’s eyes were instantly as huge as the proverbial deer in the headlights, and Miss Lucinda gave my arm a sharp jab with a boney finger.

  ‘We don’t know that she’s being accused of anything, Jo,’ admonished Miss Lucinda. ‘I’d thank you to keep your gob shut and use your brain.’ She began walking back toward the officer and Miss Bea, an air of determination in her step.

  I ran to catch up with her, and Leslie hurried to join us.

  ‘I just couldn’t stay back there with the … you know, by the …’ She gulped, unwilling to bring herself to say the word. Being the soul of kindness that I am, I finished the sentence for her.

  ‘The body? Well, who would?’ I looked over Miss Lucinda’s shoulder at a distraught Miss Bea.

  ‘What do you think that officer is saying to her?’ murmured Leslie in my ear.

  ‘I have not a clue,’ I whispered back. Miss Bea’s head suddenly swiveled, looking straight at us. I groaned. That woman’s hearing was right up there with a bat’s.

  I moved closer to Miss Lucinda’s broad back. She had not said anything yet, but I could feel the air around her go still. It was weird, to say the least.

  Miss Lucinda was going into attack mode.

  ‘If my sister has not been charged with anything, officer, I’d thank you to wrap it up and let her get back inside. The poor dearie is in a state of shock.’ She moved forward to place a large arm around Miss Bea’s shoulders.

  Actually, it was Leslie and I who were in shock – “My sister?” – “Poor dearie?”– Dear Lord, what was this world coming to?

  The officer must have realized his perilous position, facing the Becklaw Wall of Sisterhood. He did what any other red-blooded man would have done: he snapped closed his notebook, took a step back, touched his forehead in something akin to a salute, and wished us all a good evening.

  As he walked back to his compadres, an awkward silence settled over the four of us like a blanket; oddly enough it was somewhat comforting. We all began to move at once, Leslie and me flanking Miss Lucinda as Miss Bea’s bodyguards. I didn’t mind getting drilled by what felt like sixty pairs of eyes as we made our way back to the safety of the dining hall, but I was danged if I was going to let anyone bother Miss Bea.

  Chapter Eleven

  The ‘powers that be’ had cleared the dining area, setting it up as a command post for the local police department and the paramedics to work. Miss Bea was definitely suffering from shock, and a young woman in an Emergency Medical Tech’s uniform came over and met us at the door, gently drawing Miss Bea from the protective grasp of Miss Lucinda.

  We three stood in silence, watching the bustle around us. Two officers had commandeered a long table and had placed a chair directly across from theirs; I guessed that’s where the suspects would sit.

  ‘We’ll have to talk to those officers,’ I said out of the corner of my mouth to Leslie and Miss Lucinda. ‘I have no idea what they’ll ask me, though; I haven’t seen Josie since earlier today.’

  ‘None of us have, Jo,’ said Miss Lucinda, giving me another laser look, a few seconds before sweeping the full beam of her glare around the room. ‘Just what they hope to gain from this nonsense, I’m sure I don’t know. Well, I’m going to get this over with.’ And with that, she marched over to the table, plopping her heft onto one of the chairs.

  Pushing back a lock of lavender hair from her forehead, Miss Lucinda looked sternly at the officer across from her. I grinned, feeling slightly sorry for that young man. He was about to unleash the Becklaw Barrage. I hoped he’d had his Wheaties.

  Leslie elbowed me in the side. ‘Look!’ she hissed. ‘There’s that guy from the steakhouse, that Scrawny Joe or whatever it is he called himself.’ She pointed unobtrusively with her chin at the rather large individual who filled the open doorway.

  ‘What’s he here for?’ I wondered aloud, watching him walk over to one of the paramedics and say something. He must have asked where someone was, because I saw the EMT look over his shoulder, then point. Skinny Joe nodded briefly and walked away, his bulk following a course of its own.

  ‘Hey, wait a minute,’ I exclaimed. ‘He’s heading for the dressing rooms, Leslie. Let’s follow him and see what he’s up to.’ I spun on my heels and took off without a ba
ckward glance, trusting that Leslie was following me.

  Together we walked down the hallway, pausing briefly in front of the women’s dressing room. I put my ear to the door but could hear nothing, so I motioned to Leslie to move on. We turned the corner and saw that the door to the men’s dressing area was ajar. I could hear a murmur from inside and I stopped in my tracks, very nearly sending Leslie over in a heap.

  I cut my eyes toward the door, then back at her, putting my finger to my lips. I began moving along the wall a là Super Secret Agent, and almost ran right into Joe’s hefty belly. I tilted my head and looked up into his eyes. He did not look happy to see me, not one bit.

  ‘Ah, hello there, Mr Skinny. Mr Joe.’ What a complete idiot, I thought, my traitor of a flush creeping above the high collar of my ‘school marm’ dress. I felt dumb, but defiantly so. I returned his look, glare for glare.

  ‘I take it you’re here for a reason?’ Leslie’s quiet voice sounded from behind my right shoulder where she had taken refuge from Skinny Joe. Oh, how brave we can be when hunkered down behind somebody else! I had to admire her pluck, though.

  ‘I’m here to pick up my nephew. What’s your excuse?’ With his beefy arms folded against a massive chest, Joe looked like an illustration of the Jolly Green Giant, only without the jolly. Or the green. He looked, in a word, annoyed.

  ‘We,’ – I indicated Leslie with a thumb jabbed in her direction – ‘are here to tell the boys that they’re wanted out front.’ Since this was a flat out lie, I didn’t chance a look in Leslie’s direction. That girl was too truthful for her own good.

  I could see Skinny Joe’s mind turning this bit of information over. Thankfully he bought it, and stuck his head back in the door and called out, ‘Andy! Bert! You two get out here. You’re wanted out front.’ He turned to face me, arms still crossed. ‘There. Satisfied?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, we are. Come on, Jo. We still need to round up Lily.’ Leslie grasped me by the back of my dress and all but hauled me bodily down the passageway.

  ‘Hey,’ I began, but she tugged me further down the hall before stopping and hissing in my ear, ‘I think he’s in on it!’

  ‘Who’s in on what?’ I was stymied. I couldn’t think of a rational thing to say, so just stood and stared at her. We could hear the footsteps of Andy and Bert moving at a rapid pace behind us, so we hightailed it into the dining area/police substation and walked over to where Miss Lucinda was still keeping watch over Miss Bea.

  Thankfully, Miss Bea’s color was almost normal now, and the faint sheen of sweat that had covered her forehead was gone. Someone had brought her a glass of water and she sat sipping it quietly, not looking at anything in particular. Miss Lucinda’s hands were on Miss Bea’s shoulders, gently patting them.

  I think that this qualified as “a cold day in Hades”.

  Leslie and I both turned to watch as Andy and Bert, followed by Skinny Joe, stopped just inside the dining area. They looked around in a puzzled manner, their eyes lighting on us.

  ‘Just follow my lead,’ I said to Leslie from the side of my mouth as I watched the trio stalk in our direction. ‘Hey, there. What’s up?’

  ‘Whaddya mean, “what’s up”?’ Andy’s arms crossed his chest in a parody of his uncle’s, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘I thought you said that we were wanted by the police.’

  ‘Wanted by the police? Are you? Have you told them that yet?’ The innocent look on my face could have rivaled Bambi’s. ‘Miss Lucinda, did you know that Andy was wanted by the police when you hired him?’

  By this time, Andy was sputtering, he was so mad. How in the world had I thought him good-looking, even for a second, I wondered, as I took in his flaring nostrils and the blotchy redness that now colored his face.

  ‘You know good and well what I mean, you – you – you out-of-stater! Don’t go putting words in my mouth! Uncle Joe, just what did she tell you?’ He swung around to face his uncle.

  Skinny Joe shrugged, the movement causing a ripple to cross his flabby chest. ‘She said you were wanted out front. I told you, you came out here. End of story.’

  The ruckus was causing us some unwanted attention. Two of the officers who were standing along the room’s perimeter began to move in our direction.

  ‘Oh, great, just what we needed: another visit from the fuzz,’ I murmured to no one in particular. Miss Lucinda gave me an odd glance, but kept her own counsel.

  Two of Manchester’s finest approached our little group, their faces set on ‘bland’ as they looked us over. Finally, the shorter officer, the one whose eyebrows were as thick as newly hatched caterpillars in the spring, turned to Miss Lucinda.

  ‘Ma’am, are these young men bothering you?’ Now that was a question I hadn’t expected to hear. I camouflaged a small laugh behind a cough.

  ‘No, Officer, they’re not. Actually, they are friends of the – of the deceased. You might want to ask them a few questions about this evening, if you haven’t done so already.’ Miss Lucinda continued ministering to Miss Bea’s shoulders.

  ‘Is this true?’ The taller of the pair, the one with the pale blue eyes and hair like cotton wool, looked at Andy and Bert with an interested look on his face.

  ‘Well, yes, it is,’ admitted Andy. Bert just stood there.

  I’ve often heard the expression, “like a bump on a log,” but it had never really occurred to me exactly what that meant. After observing Bert’s behavior, though, I think I figured it out: bumps on a log don’t move, that’s true, but they also don t go away. If Andy had a hand in this, then so did Bert. The two were joined at the hip.

  Chapter Twelve

  I had apparently struck a nerve of Andy’s with my glib twisting of his words. What was in his background that he didn’t want known? Well, I’d leave the Manchester PD to worry about that one; I had Miss Lucinda and Miss Bea to deal with.

  The two officers invited Andy to join them for a chat, and I watched as Bert began drifting in that direction as well. Two for the price of one, I thought, as a chair was pulled out for him as well. Andy wasn’t happy about it; the daggers he was shooting in Bert’s direction were as murderous as any I had ever seen.

  ‘Jo?’ I dragged my eyes from the boys back to Leslie, whose hand was tugging at my sleeve. ‘Shouldn’t one of us go and check on Lily? Maybe make sure that she’s all right?’

  Good grief. I had forgotten all about the girl. ‘I’ll go,’ I said, thrusting my chair back from the table. I was beginning to feel like a glorified babysitter.

  I sped across the dining area to the hallway. The door to the women’s dressing room was open; I paused – had we left it that way? I couldn’t be sure, but I had a feeling that one of us had closed it behind us. Oh, well; Lily is a big girl, I thought. (Of course, I meant as in ‘grown up’, not ‘big’ in build!)

  The ‘big girl’ wasn’t in the dressing room. Or the bathroom. Or anywhere else that I hastily checked, a sense of panic rising in my throat. At least, I hoped that it was panic and not my last meal making its way back to the surface. This evening was not only going downhill, it was going subterranean. And fast.

  As my mother is wont to say, ‘It’s going to hell in a handbasket.’ I couldn’t have said it better.

  OK, I said to myself, think, Jo. Where else might she have gone? Home, maybe? That would entail a jaunt to her car, which was in the parking lot … the parking lot! Oh, no, I groaned inwardly. She’d see Josie and no one would be with her.

  I darted down the hall, my long skirts caught up in my hands. It occurred to me then that I had been doing a lot of dashing about in these high-heeled shoes, and they weren’t half bad. Maybe the women of the Old West did know a thing or two about comfort after all.

  My mind was digressing, a sure sign that I was losing it. Hold it together, Jo, I admonished myself. First things first: report back to the Becklaw gals and tell them that Lily is nowhere to be found. They’ll know what to do.

  Why in the world had I thought that they would be any b
etter at this than I was? As soon as I delivered my news, Miss Bea’s face turned ashen, Miss Lucinda’s mouth fell open and stayed that way, and Leslie’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘What?’ I demanded. I looked at each of them in turn, waiting for someone to enlighten me.

  ‘Oh, Jo,’ began Leslie, voice quavering. ‘If someone is hunting down women and Lily’s missing, she might be in danger, too! Poor Josie. Poor Lily.’ She put her face into her hands.

  Really, now. It’s a wonder more people don’t get hurt leaping to conclusions as quickly as they do, present party not included. My leaps of logic were based on – well, logic. I all but snapped my fingers in their faces to bring them back to reality.

  ‘Look, just because I can’t find her doesn’t mean she’s not here somewhere. I’m going back out to the parking lot and making sure she’s not there. Or is there, as the case may be. Leslie?’ I quirked an eyebrow at her in an invitation to join me.

  ‘Miss Lucinda, will you two be OK?’ Leslie stood to her feet, hesitating briefly. I absolutely adored such displays of loyalty. We were becoming a very tightknit group indeed.

  ‘We’ll be fine, my dear,’ said Miss Lucinda bravely. I noticed she had included Miss Bea in her answer, although she might have begun speaking in terms of the royal ‘we’. Either way, I was sure the two of them would be perfectly all right.

  Leslie and I wove our way through the scattered tables and back out the front door. An evening chill had settled in earnest now, and I wished that I’d grabbed my jacket while I was in the dressing room. I shivered. It occurred to me the shiver might not be only from the coolness in the air.

  We paused at the edge of the parking lot, each scanning the scene for a glimpse of Lily’s bright pink costume. Of course, she might have tossed a sweater or something on top of it; the more I thought about that, the more likely it seemed. Lily was as modest as they came.

  ‘Let’s walk over and ask that officer whether or not anyone has seen Lily out here.’ I said to Leslie, pointing out the young woman in a Manchester uniform. ‘She might not even be here, you know.’ I put action to my words and began striding toward the policewoman, Leslie hurrying to catch up.