FM for Murder

by Patricia Rockwell

  “We’ve been receiving many condolence cards and packages,” said Vickers, remaining standing. He was curious to see what David would do. It didn’t matter if he decided to leave because, Vickers knew, Shoop had several officers stationed outside.

  “Is the body at the mortuary?” asked David.

  “No,” replied Vickers, “Of course, we waited to have the body taken there because we knew you would want to say your good-byes in person.”

  “That wasn’t necessary,” replied David, slightly flushed. Not what he wanted. The less he saw of the old man, living or dead, the better.

  “Fine,” said David. “I’ll just go up to my room and unpack and then I’ll go see--father.”

  “I don’t think you should wait, Daniel,” said Vickers, urgently. “The mortuary would really like to proceed, so if you don’t mind, you need to go directly to see your father.”

  “All right,” agreed David, heading for the stairs. He couldn’t make a fuss now or Vickers and the staff might suspect that he wasn’t Daniel and that would never do. He headed up the long flight of carpet-covered stairs. Vickers followed behind like a retinue. At the head of the steps, he turned right, hoping that his father’s bedroom would still be located in the same place. He figured if he walked into the wrong room he could claim he was disoriented due to grief. Opening the door at the end of the hallway, he was relieved to discover himself in his father’s room. The old man’s giant mahogany four-poster bed was located against one wall. The old man rested in the bed, the covers tucked under his chin, his eyes closed. He looked almost alive. Around the bed stood several people he didn’t know—probably doctors and lawyers. He walked carefully towards the bed and when he arrived he sat on the edge of the bed, all the on-lookers awaiting his reaction, obviously. The reaction they got was one of extreme shock, when suddenly his dead father opened his eyes.

  “David,” squeaked the old man, squeezing his eyes together to try to see his face.

  What’s going on? he thought, panicking. “Daniel, father,” David gulped. Alive, he thought. The old man is supposed to be dead.

  “No,” said the old man, “David. You think I can’t tell my own sons apart? Besides, how can you be Daniel, when Daniel is dead?”

  David choked. What was going on? His father was alive. He knew he wasn’t his brother. He knew Daniel was dead.

  “I don’t….”

  “No…David,” said Vickers, standing behind him. “I suppose you don’t. But a lot of people have been working hard to find out who killed your brother—these people in this room to be exact.” He pointed to Detective Shoop, Amy Shuster Bridgewater, Rocky Barnes, and Pamela Barnes. “It was through their efforts that we know what you did to your own brother. That you killed him and attempted to pass yourself off for him. I assume that you thought that if your father were dead, you could get away with claiming you were Daniel and the entire Bridgewater fortune would be yours to do with as you pleased.”

  “You said he was dead,” David retorted, pointing at the old man in the bed.

  “I may be on my way out,” said Charles Bridgewater, “but I’m going to hang on long enough to see that you get what you deserve, David. I should have turned you over to the police years ago, when I suspected that you were instrumental in the death of your own mother, but instead like a fool, I felt sympathy for you and sent you away instead. That was a horrid mistake—and Daniel paid for my stupid mistake with his life. I can never forgive myself for that.” He shook his small fist at David and then buried his head in his hands. Amy rushed over to the man and encircled him in her arms.

  “I don’t understand,” David said, finally, as he realized that his clever plot had come unraveled.

  “There were many things you did wrong, David,” said Shoop, opening his pocket notebook and going down a list with his finger. “You didn’t account for bullet angle, ballistics, including the acoustic profile of a gun shot which told us—or rather told Dr. Barnes here—a lot about just how, how far, and at what angle the gun was shot.”

  “You also didn’t account for the personal side,” said Amy, lifting her head from the shoulders of Charles Bridgewater. “I called and called Daniel’s phone after Saturday night and he—you—never answered. Daniel would never do that.”

  “Who are you?” asked David, sneering.

  “I’m Daniel’s wife,” cried Amy, tears staining her cheeks and the shoulder of her father-in-law. She held out her hand and showed him a beautiful diamond ring.

  “That’s my mother’s ring!” exclaimed David.

  “No,” responded Charles, “It’s Amy’s ring now. Daniel gave it to her when they were married.” He looked up at his reprobate son and said, “David, you may have killed Daniel—my real son—your brother—but Amy is his widow—and she is pregnant with Daniel’s child—my grandchild.”

  “I think what Charles is saying, David,” said Vickers to David, “is that the Bridgewater line will go on—Daniel’s line will go on. But your line is dead in the water. Detective,” he said, turning to Shoop at the door, “here’s your man. You and the local police here can fight over who gets first crack at him.” Shoop nodded at Vickers, brought out a set of handcuffs and placed them on David’s wrists as one of the local police officers read him his rights.

  With the excitement over, Pamela and Rocky said good-bye to Amy and her new father-in-law and asked her to let them know when the baby arrived. Vickers walked the couple to the front door and thanked them for all their help. Pamela and Rocky headed home, knowing that Angela and Kent would be thrilled to hear that the man they had chased all over New Orleans had actually been the killer and had been arrested.

  “A bittersweet conclusion,” said Rocky to his wife.

  “Yes,” agreed Pamela, “but maybe baby Bridgewater will turn out to be the greatest carpet manufacturer of them all.”

  Epilogue

  Present time--June 21, Sunday

  The Reardon Regional Zoo was not the standard location for a wedding. Today, however, it was decked out in beautiful flowers, ribbons, and satin finery. A pavilion located in the middle of the zoo, with walk paths heading to the different animal locations, served as the venue for the ceremony. A huge trellis marked the location where the actual exchange of vows would take place. White folding chairs were arranged in circular rows in front of the trellis. Seated in these chairs, guests could look around them and see—and hear—in the distance, exotic birds, elephants, camels, giraffes, monkeys, and a variety of smaller creatures. The noise of wedding guests mingled with the cries of exotic fauna made for a truly unique matrimonial experience—or at least that’s what Pamela thought as she slid into one of the seats in the second row.

  “I hope they don’t call during the ceremony,” she said to Rocky who was accompanying her, and who looked dashing in his summer suit—beige with his pale blue shirt and satin blue and beige tie. She was wearing a multi-colored flowery chiffon and a big-brimmed straw hat. She never wore hats, usually, but if you couldn’t wear a hat to an outdoor summer wedding, where else?

  “Unlikely,” replied her husband, “but, in case, better put your cell on vibrate.”

  “I can’t do that,” she retorted, “I’d just want to answer it then, and I can’t during the ceremony.”

  “Just how likely is it to happen right during the ceremony? I mean, most weddings only last about twenty minutes. Ours was longer—it seemed like an eternity before they actually approved us as legal.”

  “You were just anxious to….”

  “I’m always anxious,” he said, smiling, his eyebrows wafting up and down in their usual amorous movement.

  Shreeech!

  “What was that?” she cried.

  “Some weird monkey or bird,” he said. “It is a zoo, remember.”

  “I know,” she answered, “Can you believe it? A wedding at a zoo! Leave it to Bob and Arliss to think of that.”

  “What was that?” she cried again.

  “I didn’t hear an
ything,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s my cell,” she said, pulling her phone from her small formal clutch purse. She looked at the caller ID. “It’s Harold.” She greeted the lawyer on her cell phone, then listened as he spoke, nodding, smiling, and saying “yes” as he talked. When she hung up, she was excited.

  “Amy had a boy—six pounds, eight ounces! Mother and son are doing well. Grandfather Bridgewater is too especially now that he has a new grandson. Not so well physically, but still holding on.”

  “That’s great!” said Rocky, “Oops! Here come your friends.” As he spoke, Joan and Willard slipped into the seats beside them. Joan was the epitome of elegance in a a brocade suit and Willard was his jaunty best in crimson and grey seersucker.

  “You’re just in time,” Pamela said, looking at her watch. Indeed, immediately recorded music rang out from the zoo’s loudspeaker system. Pamela and the rest turned and watched as Arliss MacGregor, dressed in a simple, yet lovely white tulle gown proceeded down between the rows of seats on the arm of an older gentleman that Pamela surmised was her father. As Pamela looked back at the central trellis, she saw that Bob Goodman had appeared from under the flowered bower, Mitchell Marks at his side as his best man. Arliss glowed as she reached Bob. Bob beamed. Pamela thought happy thoughts and mentally sent best wishes to Amy Bridgewater and her new son and wished them a wonderful life—just as she sent best wishes for a wonderful life to the two wonderful people standing in front of her who were just starting their life together.

  An elephant roared. A bird squawked. The lovely sounds of a summer day. Oh, how she loved sounds!

  ###

  Rocky’s Recipes

  Pork Roast with Raisin Sauce

  4 lb. boneless pork roast

  ½ tsp. of salt, cinnamon

  ¼ tsp. of garlic powder, pepper, and cumin

  Rub the spices over pork. Roast uncovered until meat thermometer registers 170 degrees (about 2 and ½ hours). Serve with raisin sauce.

  Raisin Sauce

  1 ½ cup apple juice1 ½ cup raisins

  ¼ cup maple syrup½ tsp. cinnamon

  2 tbsp. cold water1 tsp. cornstarch

  Heat juice, raisins, syrup and cinnamon to boil. Reduce to simmer, add raisins and cook until tender (10 min.) Mix water and cornstarch in small bowl. Add to mixture and bring to boil, stirring (about a minute).

  Chocolate Coconut Bars

  4 cups crushed graham crackers 1 cup softened butter

  ½ cup powdered sugar 2 cups shredded coconut

  1 can sweetened condensed milk 1 tsp. vanilla

  1 cup chopped walnuts 12-oz. bag/ chocolate chips

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix crackers, butter and sugar and pat into bottom of 9’ X 13” pan. Bake 10 minutes. Mix coconut, milk, and vanilla. Spread over crust and bake additional 10 minutes. Melt chips in microwave until spreadable. Spread on top of coconut layer. Top with walnuts. Cool and cut into squares.

  About the Author

  FM forMurder is the second book in the Pamela Barnes acoustic mystery series. The first, Sounds of Murder, represented Patricia Rockwell’s debut novel.

  Patricia Rockwell has spent most of her life teaching. Her Bachelors’ and Masters’ degrees are from the University of Nebraska in Speech, and her Ph.D. is from the University of Arizona in Communication. She was on the faculty at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette for thirteen years, retiring in 2007. Her publications are extensive, with over 20 peer-reviewed articles in scholarly journals, several textbooks, and a research volume published by Edwin Mellen Press. In addition, she served for eight years as editor of the Louisiana Communication Journal. Her research focuses primarily on deception, sarcasm, and vocal cues. Dr. Rockwell is presently living in Aurora, Illinois, with her husband Milt, also a retired educator. The couple has two adult children.

  Thank you, so much for reading FM For Murder. If you enjoyed Pamela and her escapades, please check out her first adventure—Sounds of Murder—by visiting our publisher’s website: http://www.cozycatpress.com.