Murder by Decay

by Suzanne Young

  When Edna sat down with a fresh pot of tea, Mary stopped talking and chose another half of a grilled cheese from the platter.

  “What sort of charity work was he doing?” Carol asked after swallowing a bite of her own lunch.

  Mary finished chewing her food before answering. “Isabelle’s causes, actually. She organized community projects. She was great at getting volunteers to work in a food kitchen, drive people to doctor appointments. Things like that. When she found an indigent who needed dental work, she’d bring ‘em to Pieter’s clinic and make him take the patient for free.” Mary stopped to gaze unfocused toward the window above the sink and Edna wondered what special memory her neighbor was remembering.

  “Billy Rob Kailey must have been a patient, if Pieter identified him at Baxter’s trial. He had Kailey’s dental records, I assume.” Apparently unaware of Mary’s preoccupation, Carol broke the growing silence. “Why do you suppose Resnik ID’d him, if Kailey was still alive? He helped send an innocent man to prison.”

  Refocusing on her lunch, Mary shrugged. “That’s the question lots of people are asking now. Far’s I know, no one’s found the answer.”

  “Speaking of the ‘innocent man’,” Edna said, “Why would George Baxter’s sister go to work for the man who testified against her brother?”

  “I’d like to know who died ten years ago and was identified as Kailey,” Carol said.

  “And who killed Kailey Monday night,” Mary added.

  Mulling over that last comment, Edna said, “I think Gordon was meant to find Kailey’s body, not me. Otherwise, who would leave a body like that … and why?”

  Chapter 16

  Their unanswered questions and speculations were interrupted by the ringing of Edna’s phone on the wall behind Mary’s left ear, startling them all. Mary reached back without looking, grabbed the receiver off the cradle and handed it over to Edna.

  “Is Carol with you?” Gran’s excited voice sounded in Edna’s ear. “I’ve been trying to reach her. Codfish and I have just been talking to Annie’s owners.”

  Passing the cordless to Carol, Edna watched as her young neighbor listened to Gran’s news after explaining that she’d left her phone in the pocket of her coat which, at the moment, was hanging in Edna’s hall closet. When she ended the call and handed the receiver back across the table so Mary could return it to the cradle, Carol looked less pleased about the news she’d been awaiting than Edna expected.

  “Darn,” Carol muttered.

  “What’d Gran say?” Mary was the first to ask.

  “Some college students came into the restaurant for lunch and recognized Annie. They said they searched for her everywhere after she disappeared a couple of weeks ago, but then gave up. They figured, being so cute and all, she’d either been dog-napped or found a new home.”

  “Is that bad news?” Edna asked, noting her neighbor’s downcast expression. “Didn’t you want to find Annie’s owner?”

  Carol nodded with a pout. “I did at first, but I’ve grown attached to the little terrier. I think Gran and Codfish have, too.”

  “You said ‘some students.’ Does she belong to any particular one?” Mary asked.

  “Gran was vague about that,” Carol said. “Annie lived in a house with these graduate students, near the university. The one who brought her into the house graduated and moved to Washington, D.C. I’m not clear how or why Annie ran away.” She turned to Edna. “Would you drive me to the restaurant? I need to talk with these students before they finish eating and leave, possibly with Annie. Gran was unclear about that, too … whether they’re intending to take her with them. Gran says they’re not regulars at the restaurant so who knows when I might have another chance to meet them. Maybe I can talk them into letting us keep her.”

  “I’ll take you,” Mary offered and rose from her chair before Edna could reply.

  Two minutes later, her neighbors were gone and Edna was left staring at Benjamin who stared back. “I’m going to clean up and take a nap,” she said to the ginger feline, rising to clear the table. She’d just finished filling the dishwasher and was heading for the hall when the phone rang.

  “Haven’t you charged your phone yet?” Albert asked.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, hoping she sounded adequately contrite. “I forgot.” Which was certainly true.

  “Wish you would start using your mobile more, dear. You’d be amazed at how freeing it is when you’re not tied to your phone at home.”

  Not wanting to further this topic of conversation, she glanced at the stove’s digital clock and saw it was only 12:34. “Is the trial over?”

  “We were released for an extended lunch. The lawyers are confabbing. Depending on the outcome, we might be dismissed this afternoon.”

  Edna was immediately torn between delight that her husband could be home early and dismay that he would be home before she could find answers to so many questions that were churning around in her head. “That’s good news, dear,” she managed to squeak.

  “Are you okay? You sound stressed. Nothing’s the matter is it? Your tooth again?”

  “No, no,” Edna insisted. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired. I didn’t sleep well last night and was about to lie down for a bit.”

  “Okay, then. Do that. I’ll phone as soon as I learn anything.”

  Ending the call, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves and clear her head. She thought she’d better check her phone, certain that the first call Albert would make later that afternoon would be to her mobile number. Pulling her bag from the front hall closet, she rummaged around without success. Puzzled, she took the tote into the kitchen and dumped its contents on the table. Carefully checking that everything was out, she spread them around without spotting the silver and black instrument. In case she wasn’t seeing properly, she handled each item in turn. Wallet, tissue packet, aspirin box, pen, notepad … one by one, the contents went back into her bag, No phone.

  She stood holding the tote, trying to think back to when she’d last held the cell in her hand. The only other place she could imagine it would be, since it wasn’t in the charger next to her computer in the office, was her car. She slipped on her coat and went out to conduct a thorough search of her dark blue Buick. No phone.

  Sitting in the vehicle, she mentally traveled back to the previous day, then to Tuesday. Not until her memory reached Monday evening did she remember spilling the contents of her purse across the floor in Gordon’s dimly lighted reception room. As she thought back to Officer Rita Nicholas handing her the tote outside the dental clinic when Edna had been speaking with Charlie, she was certain the phone must either still be in the dental office or at the police station. Maybe Charlie found it and had simply forgotten to return it to her.

  When she thought of Gordon and that night, she felt the sudden urge to go back to the building and talk to the other occupants. If the police were around, she might even recover her cell. That would certainly make Albert happy. In any case, she wanted to learn what happened Monday night and how a body could have been left in an office that should have been locked. Who had access and who else was there that night?

  Without returning to the house, she started her car and headed into town. When she pulled into the parking lot, she was delighted to see the green Honda sedan, certain it was the same vehicle she’d seen three nights ago. Her heart leaped at the thought that whoever was in the building Monday evening was here again, and she’d finally get to speak to the owner. He or she must have seen something that night. Maybe they had even spoken to Billy Rob.

  Hurrying up the walk to the double-wide glass entrance, she mentally ran through the people she had seen in the building on Monday. Other than the police, she had met only Pieter Resnik. She’d run into that young lawyer the following morning after having her tooth fixed. He might know who belonged to the Honda.

  Before turning towards the elevator to the second floor, Edna’s eye caught the sign on the realtor’s office door to the right of the mai
n entrance. The pain in her jaw had occupied most of her attention on the fateful night, but she was fairly certain the suite had been closed and dark when she’d arrived. Hesitating as she mentally planned her route through the building, she’d almost made up her mind to begin with the attorney on the floor above when muffled laughter echoed down the corridor. At once, she pictured the workman who had entered the building when she’d been talking to the young lawyer Tuesday morning. When she remembered the yoga studio was supposed to be ready soon and thought the carpenter must be finishing up, she decided to visit him first.

  The door to the studio was ajar so she slowly pushed on it until she spotted two men near a wide window at the end of a single, large room. They were each sitting on a lidded bucket with a third pail serving as a table. The older man, dressed in a paint-stained, white bib overall, faced the door and watched silently as Edna entered. At that moment, the young man with his back half-turned to her wadded up a sandwich paper and dropped it into the brown bag on the floor next to the table-bucket.

  “I can help for another half hour, Uncle Tony,” he was saying, “but I’ve gotta get back to campus this afternoon.” Rising to his feet, he must have noticed his uncle’s gaze fixed on the doorway because he turned to look over his shoulder at Edna.

  The man he’d called “Uncle Tony” spoke as he balled his own sandwich paper and dropped it, along with a soda can, into the brown bag. “Place doesn’t open ‘til next week, ma’am,” he said, standing.

  “Oh, I’m not interested in yoga,” Edna said, stepping onto the drop cloth that covered the floor. “I came to ask if you were here Monday night, as late as seven or eight o’clock, perhaps?”

  The younger man was about to speak when Uncle Tony put a hand on his shoulder. “Get to work, Rob,” he ordered, moving in front of his nephew as if to shield him from Edna. “Ma’am,” he repeated as his face lost its previously bland-but-pleasant expression, “like I said … this place opens next week and I’m behind schedule. I don’t know anything about that night, so if you’ll excuse me …” He approached Edna as he spoke and took her upper arm, turning her toward the door. Gently but firmly, he guided her into the hall, stepped back and firmly closed the door.

  She stood for a moment staring at the solid oak paneling and wondering what had just happened before giving herself a mental shake. She’d leave it for now, but that man had not seen the last of her. Heading back toward the front doors, she passed Gordon’s office with yellow crime scene tape still barring entry. The police presence reminded her to call Charlie and ask if the police had found her cell phone. Her thoughts segued to Gordon and what her friend might be going through at the police station. She hadn’t heard what Mary had learned about his arrest, but she would do that, too, as soon as possible.

  Reaching the elevator, she consulted the building’s directory and located the young lawyer’s name and suite number. “Jason Lyneman, Attorney at Law” she read next to the number 202. Directly above Pieter Resnik’s clinic, she mused, entering the lift and ascending to the upper floor.

  The door to the suite was ajar and she heard the young man’s voice raised in anger. “I don’t know what’s she’s thinking.” Edna hesitated, not wanting to interrupt. When she heard nothing more for several seconds, she was about to push open the door when he spoke again. “Sure. I can do that, especially if we can get him out of prison any sooner.”

  At that point, Edna felt she was eaves-dropping and stepped into the room. The space was large, but barely furnished. To her right, a conversation area had been arranged with a sofa, two matching stuffed chairs and a low, glass-topped coffee table. Straight ahead, against the far wall, stood a mahogany lowboy holding a lovely china coffee service, complete with tray. Everything looked new, clean and comfortable. She didn’t know if the young man was a successful attorney or not, but his office furnishings certainly spoke of money and good taste.

  She had to bend around the door to recognize the balding young man with his fashionably unshaven jaw. He was sitting upright behind a large wooden desk. His left hand held a cell phone to his ear and his right was holding a manila folder he was about to drop into a briefcase that lay open on the desktop. His eyes bore into hers. “Gotta go, buddy. Someone just came into the office, but I’ll see you in about an hour.” He paused again. “Yes, as soon as I can get there.” With that, he ended the call with a snap of his thumb. He smoothed the scowl from his brow as he rose, but not before Edna read the displeasure on his face.

  “Change your mind about hiring an attorney?” he asked, moving around the desk. He approached her with a self-satisfied twinkle in his hazel eyes.

  The pleasant expression made him almost good-looking, Edna thought with some amusement at his overly confident manner. “Actually, I’m here to ask if you know who owns the green Honda in the parking lot,” she assured him.

  His brow furrowed and his eyes lost some of their welcoming sparkle, returning him to the petulant, mousy young man she’d encountered two mornings ago. “Why do you want to know?”

  Typical of a lawyer to answer a question with a question, she thought. Aloud, she said, “I saw the car Monday night. If the owner is someone who works in the building, I’d like to speak with them.” She thought to throw him off a bit and spoke before he could ask another question. “Did you work late Monday night? Were you here? Is it your car?”

  Jason took a step back as if he’d been pushed. “Why are you asking? You’re not suggesting I had anything to do with what happened, are you?” A flush reddened his cheeks.

  “Were you here?” she asked again, staring steadily into his eyes.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was having dinner with my aunt Monday night.” He mentioned the relationship as if she were supposed to know this aunt.

  “Your aunt?” Edna asked, her mind going back to the first time they’d met earlier in the week.

  “Vera Baxter,” he said with another of his complacent nods. “She works downstairs.”

  It was Edna’s turn to be taken by surprise. “Vera Baxter is your aunt?”

  “Mother’s sister,” he said.

  Edna’s mind whirled with what the connection and proximity might mean. She thought of Vera, probably still at Pieter’s house being interviewed by the police. Edna knew she shouldn’t be the one to break the news to this young man. The complications and complexities were making her head spin. Feeling a little weak in the knees, she said, “So George Baxter is your uncle?”

  “That’s right,” Jason said, looking wary. “You know my uncle?”

  She shook her head but didn’t answer the young man. She needed time to absorb this latest revelation and figure out the implications. To distract him, she changed the subject, aiming at nonchalance as she waved an arm to indicate the room. “I sense your aunt’s hand in the decorations. Your office is very comfortable and welcoming.”

  Rather than pleased, he suddenly seemed impatient. “Yes. Vera did help out.” He hesitated, then turned back to the desk, slammed shut the briefcase and turned back to her. “Look. I hope you’ll excuse me but I’ve an important meeting to get to.”

  “I understand,” Edna said, remembering the phone conversation she’d overheard. “All I wish to know is who owns the green Honda and I’ll be on my way.”

  Jason shrugged as he picked up the briefcase. “Can’t help you,” he said. His attention was obviously elsewhere as he seized the cell phone and held it out to read the display. A few seconds later, when he looked up, he seemed surprised to see her still standing there. Flushing slightly, he said, “The realtors hire temporary helpers sometimes. Have you asked them? Or Tony … the carpenter downstairs, Tony Somner. Asked him?”

  Jason was obviously impatient to leave, but Edna paid little attention. She was searching her memory. The name rang a bell. Suddenly she realized Carol had mentioned it only that morning. Tony Somner was the Kaileys’ landlord, the owner of the River Street house. “Uncle Tony,” she remembered the young m
an calling him. The nephew … “Rob.” Why hadn’t she put two and two together when she’d been in the studio? Not only that, but the carpenter was a relative … or at least a close family friend. Interesting, she thought, her mind already occupied with these new revelations. “Thank you,” she said mechanically and spun to go.

  Before returning downstairs, Edna decided as long as she was there, she might as well check with the other offices on the floor. Behind her, she was aware of Jason closing and locking his door as she crossed the hall to the tax accountant. A sign at waist level on the wall invited visitors to “Ring bell.” Dutifully, she pressed the faux-ivory button directly beneath the metal plate and heard a muffled noise from within.

  The woman who opened the door looked to be in her mid to late fifties with salt and pepper hair pulled back from her face and fastened at the nape of her neck. Her cream-colored silk blouse and black woolen slacks were simple, but of good quality. She must have been expecting someone else because her look of anticipation folded into a slight frown as she studied Edna briefly before speaking. “Yes? May I help you?”

  Edna introduced herself and noticed the woman’s surreptitious glance at a gold watch on her wrist. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for information.”

  “Yes?” the woman repeated, a little cooler this time. She moved backward a step, preparatory to shutting the door. Perhaps she was also disappointed that Edna wasn’t seeking her professional services.

  Before the woman could shut the door completely, Edna hurriedly asked, “Do you own the green Honda in the parking lot?”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Why? Did you hit it?”

  The unexpected reaction made Edna laugh at the logical reaction her question evoked. “Oh, no, no. I only wish to speak with the owner.”

  “No, sorry, not mine,” the accountant said and took another step back, closing the door to within a few inches of the jamb.

  “Wait,” Edna put a hand on the edge before it shut completely. “Were you in the office Monday night? Working late perhaps?”