Death By Drama

by Abigail Keam

  “Did Franklin ever confide to Robin about the thefts?”

  “He told me,” I answered.

  Asa replied, “He said he mentioned it to Hunter as well.”

  “But not to Robin?”

  Asa shook her head and said, “She claims he did.”

  Shaneika looked at me. “What about you?”

  “When I talked to her, Robin confirmed that John did place the decanter and goblets on the table. Then she claimed she smelled burnt almonds on Madison’s breath.”

  Shaneika shuffled through a report. “According to my notes, she said she put a blanket on Madison. She also claimed Zion put a blanket on her. Don’t you mean ‘over’ her, as in covering a deceased person?”

  “That’s a problem right there. I don’t remember Madison being covered with a blanket. There wasn’t a blanket in the play, and we were downstairs. Where would the blanket have come from?”

  “Josiah, are you saying there was no blanket?” Shaneika asked.

  “I’m saying I don’t remember a blanket.”

  “But you stated Hunter picked Madison off the floor and put her back on the couch,” Asa declared.

  “Yeah, that’s right. We thought Madison had a stroke or something. I wasn’t thinking murder at the time, and neither was Hunter, I’m sure.”

  “So, someone could have put a blanket over Madison later, out of respect,” Asa mused while studying me.

  “I just don’t remember a blanket.”

  Shaneika wrote on the board for Robin—NO MOTIVE. “Let’s move on. What about this college kid Ashley Moore?”

  Asa was the first to speak up. “I checked. Robin did have a baby at the tender age of fifteen. Now, whether this boy is her son, I don’t know. It sounds to me like he is trying to shake her down for money.”

  “So, we don’t have the real story about him. Asa, can you gather some DNA evidence on this guy and compare it to Robin?” asked Shaneika.

  “I’ll get one of my guys on it. Don’t worry. Ashley and Robin will never realize a DNA sample has been collected. My people are good.”

  “Good. Let’s leave Ashley blank since we don’t know enough about him. Josiah, you said you left the room to get Madison water and a towel.”

  “Yes, I went into the kitchen.”

  “That’s when you heard a commotion.”

  “Correct.”

  “Who was in the room?”

  “Let me think for a moment. Franklin passed me in the hallway, rushing to find Hunter. When I got to the parlor, everyone was there. Zion, Robin, Deliah, Ashley, and John.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “A few more players straggled in after the fact.”

  Shaneika shoved a lawyer’s notepad at me. “Write down their names and contact info, please.”

  I did what she instructed and handed back the pad.

  Shaneika looked appraisingly at the board. “This is looking good for Franklin. There’s enough inconsistency here to drive a truck through. Let’s get to Deliah Webster. Asa, I think you talked to her.”

  “Yes, I did. Where to start with that one? I don’t know how well this Deliah would play on the witness stand.”

  Shaneika pursed her lips. “She’s not credible?”

  “She’s a flaky sexpot on the make. I think women on the jury would resent her.”

  “She’s a nice girl,” I countered.

  Asa continued, “She did confirm Zion and Madison were having an affair, and that John caught them.”

  “How did she know they were doing the nasty?” Shaneika asked.

  “She discovered them kissing upstairs. John found them a few minutes later. Deliah claims she heard Madison ask John for a divorce, and he said he would give her one when she tore up his prenup. He then told Zion to leave his wife alone.”

  Shaneika smiled. “Oh, this is gold. Pure gold.” She wrote under John’s name—MOTIVE-Money/Jealousy “I will dress little Miss Sexpot in a nun’s outfit if I have to, but this gal will testify. If this doesn’t create doubt in a juror’s mind, I don’t know what will.”

  I added, “I can testify Zion admitted to me that he was having an affair with Madison. I think he genuinely cared for her.”

  Shaneika wrote under Zion’s name—MOTIVE-Jealousy/Revenge. “Perhaps he was frustrated because Madison wouldn’t divorce John, or maybe she told him to get lost.” Shaneika looked at the board, almost purring.

  Asa advanced another possibility. “Let’s not forget Madison might not have been the target. It is feasible John put the antifreeze in the cranberry juice to kill Zion, his rival.”

  I mused, “If John put antifreeze in the juice bottle, then he intended to kill both Madison and Zion.”

  “There’s a problem with that angle,” Asa said. “If John was really after Madison’s money, why murder her in front of witnesses? He would have known there would be a full-blown investigation.”

  “What about insurance money?” asked Shaneika.

  Asa shrugged. “Still working on it.”

  “If there are insurance policies on Madison or Zion, I want to know about it, and who’s paying the premiums.”

  Asa saluted. “Yes, ma’am!”

  I stood up. “Ladies, I’m going home. I’m tired. This whole thing is distressing.”

  Asa and Shaneika exchanged glances.

  Shaneika offered, “Sure, Josiah, go home. I can have one of my people drive you.”

  Asa gathered her notes and placed them in a briefcase. “No, I’ll drive Mother home. You do look a little tired, Mom.”

  “I feel a nap coming on.”

  Asa picked up my purse and handed my silver-headed wolf’s cane to me.

  I was exhausted. And it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

  27

  There was a knock on the door.

  I was sleeping on the couch, and unsteadily got up to answer it, almost tripping over Baby, who was napping beside me on the floor. I looked at my monitor and pulled back in surprise. I opened the door and said, “Hello, Hunter.”

  “May I come in?”

  I hesitated for a moment. “Hunter, I’ve got to be honest. If it is about us, I’m not up to hearing it. I am plumb worn out.”

  “It is about us, but not the way you’re thinking.”

  “Do us both a favor. Write me a Dear Jane letter and leave it at that.”

  “What are you going on about? I’m here to explain why I haven’t been around lately.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We didn’t have much of a chance anyway.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Hunter groused as he pushed past me.

  Baby and Ginger rose, padding over to Hunter to be petted.

  “Hey, Baby’s clean for a change.”

  “I bathed him last night. Don’t worry. He’ll get dirty again as soon as I let him out.”

  Hunter went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He poured two glasses of iced tea and brought them into the great room. “Sit down.”

  I sat on the couch and moved my afghan out of his way.

  Sipping on his iced tea, Hunter glanced around. “This is some house. Good bones.”

  “Quit stalling. What’s this all about?”

  “I want to apologize for not being more attentive.”

  “You’ve had a lot on your plate.”

  “Before that. I stopped coming around. Didn’t call.”

  “You don’t need to explain, Hunter.”

  “Yes, I do.” He took another sip. “I guess I better tell you. I’m broke, Josiah. I don’t mean broke as in homeless, but if things keep going the way they are, that might be in the cards.” He chuckled, but it was not a haha chuckle. It was more like a “oh, my gosh” chuckle—“can this be happening to me?”

  I didn’t say anything, but I saw fear in Hunter’s eyes the same way I saw fear in the mirror when I looked at myself several years ago.

  “I am mired in debt, and I’m going to have to sell Wickliffe Manor to get out of it.”

  “I’m very sorr
y to hear that, Hunter. Truly I am.” I reached for his hand.

  “I didn’t have the money to take you out, so I didn’t call. I was embarrassed, and frazzled from trying to restore the place.”

  “You should have told me. We don’t need money to have a good time. We could have watched a movie on TV, swum in my pool, or confiscated Lady Elsmere’s pontoon boat and floated down the Kentucky River bird watching. We could have stuck her with the gas bill.”

  Hunter smiled. “A man should take his lady out. A man who can’t take his date out on the town is a bum.”

  “This situation does not define who you are, Hunter. It’s just your current circumstance. You’ll pull yourself out of this.”

  “I’ve made arrangements to sell the Hanoverian.”

  “No, you’re not! Absolutely no way. I will not allow it. I’ll cover the horse’s expenses until you get back on your feet. The horse stays here. Besides, what would Morning Glory do without her buddy?”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be much fun until this situation with Franklin is resolved.”

  “How is he doing? I haven’t talked to him since that horrible fight with Matt.”

  “Not good, Josiah. Franklin is staying with me for now. He goes to work. His boss likes Franklin and hasn’t fired him, but Franklin mopes about Matt.”

  “He’d better concentrate on his predicament and forget about Matt.”

  “What is it with Matt?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. Franklin is so good for him, but Matt doesn’t see it. I can tell you that I love Matt, but I’m ashamed of his behavior toward Franklin.”

  “I’d like to bust Matt in the chops.”

  “Someone say my name?”

  Hunter and I looked up from our conversation to see Matt walk into the room holding Emmeline.

  Matt seemed startled to see Hunter. “Excuse me, Josiah. I didn’t realize you have company.”

  Hunter rose.

  “Don’t,” I warned. “The baby.”

  “Is there something you want to say to me, Hunter?” Matt asked.

  “I didn’t come here for you. I came to see Jo.”

  “Like I said—excuse me.” Matt started for his room.

  “You’re not even going to ask about Franklin?” Hunter asked, astounded.

  “Not with the baby around. I can tell you’re itching for a fight, Hunter, but it will have to be another time. I won’t give you any satisfaction when my daughter is present.”

  “Give her to Josiah, and let’s continue this conversation outside.”

  Matt ignored Hunter and, stepping into his bedroom, closed and locked the door.

  “Can you believe that guy!” Hunter exclaimed.

  “He’s doing you a favor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Matt is some twenty years younger, plus he has about thirty pounds on you, and believe me, it’s all muscle.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “I’m sure you can, but Matt can also. Hunter, simmer down. This macho stuff is not going to bring Franklin and Matt back together.”

  “I can’t stand that guy. I’ve got to go. I don’t want to be in the same house with him.”

  “Okay,” I replied, but I was saying it to thin air.

  Hunter had already left and slammed the front door.

  I gave out a big sigh. That sure went well, I mused to myself. I could see that if the rift between Franklin and Matt was not repaired, I might lose both of them, because Hunter would make me choose.

  That was one decision I didn’t want to make.

  Not at all!

  28

  Kentucky has had its share of spectacular murders—ones that stick in your craw and don’t let go. We even had our share of serial killers before people knew there was such a thing.

  In 1824, one Isaac Desha was staying at a tavern near Mays Lick, Kentucky. He met a man from Mississippi named Francis Baker and accompanied the traveler on his way to visit Mr. Baker’s friend in the area. Both men left the tavern on their respective horses, but Francis Baker never arrived at his friend’s house.

  Instead, Mr. Baker was later found in the woods under some brush with bludgeon wounds to his head, stab wounds in his chest and shoulders, and his throat cut. Evidently, Mr. Baker was hard to kill.

  Desha was arrested after his personal effects were found near Baker’s body, and Desha had possession of Baker’s horse, which he had previously admired.

  It didn’t help Desha that after Baker’s murder and before his arrest, Desha’s pregnant wife left him, never to return. What had she seen or heard causing her to run?

  Not to worry, though. Desha’s father was Joseph Desha, the ninth governor of Kentucky, and he pardoned his son after two trials where Isaac was pronounced guilty. It seems Governor Desha couldn’t get the verdict he wanted, so he took it upon himself to save his son.

  If there was any doubt about Isaac’s predilection for murder, it was wiped away when he fled to Texas, where he murdered another traveling pilgrim. He died before that trial started, and his death made national news. One newspaper wrote, “The world, it appears, is at last relieved from the presence of the notorious . . . Desha.”

  I’ve always believed there is something in the rich Kentucky soil that can bring out the worst in us. After all, Kentucky has always been called “the dark and bloody ground,” because the land is soaked with the blood of innocent and sinner alike. Cherokees, Shawnees, Mingos, Yuchis, Chickasaws, Wyandots, Delawares, Miamis, French fur traders, explorers, tradesmen, British soldiers, American frontiersmen, African-American slaves, horse thieves, Confederate soldiers, Union soldiers, striking coal miners, clan feuds, and the tobacco wars have seen their fair share of brutal violence.

  I don’t know why I was thinking of Isaac Desha at Madison’s funeral. I was sitting on a hard wooden pew inside a small, limestone church, listening to a minister drone on about how wonderful Madison was.

  We all knew she wasn’t, but I guess that was beside the point. I was comparing Madison’s murder to that of Francis Baker’s. What drove Isaac Desha to murder a stranger he met at a tavern? To steal the man’s horse?

  He must have known he would be caught and eventually tried for murder.

  Why did Isaac Desha kill? Was it a compulsion? Personal gain? To rob Francis Baker of his horse and money, Desha had to rob the man of his life. And it was such a sloppy murder. Blood was found on both horses and Desha’s clothes. Desha was in possession of Baker’s horse, and Desha’s personal effects were discovered around Baker’s hidden corpse. Then there is the matter of Desha’s pregnant wife fleeing her home. Women did not leave their husbands in 1824 unless it was a matter of extreme necessity. What did Isaac say to her or was it the blood on his clothes that made her panic and run?

  Personal gain. Personal gain. Personal gain.

  Isaac Desha killed for personal gain. Of course, it was more than that for him. Isaac Desha was a predator. Look at the viciousness of the murder. He only used robbery as an excuse to kill, and he would have gone on killing until he was stopped in Texas.

  But was personal gain the motive for Madison’s murder?

  I rubbernecked at those attending. John was in the front pew bawling his eyes out. He was so good at exhibiting grief, I almost believed he loved Madison.

  The murderer had to be John Smythe. He was the only one who really benefited from her death—all that luscious money.

  To my left sat Ashley Moore with Deliah Webster. Hmm, what was going on there? Anything? Nothing?

  Up near the front sat Peter Russell, but Robin was absent. I hoped she was feeling all right.

  Zion was in the very back, drunk, and mumbling incoherently.

  I discreetly got up, went to the rear of the church, and called for a taxi. Then I sat beside Zion. “Come on, Zion. This is not the time for acting like a fool.”

  “Leave me alone,” Zion sneered, pulling away from me.

  I tugged on his arm and whispered, “Think about
what you’re doing.”

  He started weeping. “He cremated her, Jo. He burned her up. All that loveliness gone. It makes me sick to think of it.”

  “I know, Zion.”

  “I didn’t even get to see Madison one last time.”

  “Let’s go outside and talk. Come on, Zion. Let the others mourn in their own way.”

  I gently tugged at his arm again, and this time, he followed.

  We sat on a bench under a massive oak tree.

  Zion kicked at broken acorns lying on the ground. “Looks like the squirrels got these,” he murmured. Zion looked at the gloomy sky, wiped his tear-stained face, and asked, “Is it going to be okay, Jo?”

  I put my arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. “I don’t know, Zion, but I can tell you this. Grief doesn’t go away, but it’s possible to reach the point where you can live with it.”

  “Do you miss Brannon?”

  “Sometimes. There have been nights when I think I hear him rummaging in the kitchen, and I call out his name.”

  “I know things got messy at the end.”

  “Yes, they did,” I replied, thinking of Brannon stealing from me, cheating on me, and then abandoning me. He threw me on the garbage pile without so much as a kiss-my-fanny.

  “Madison and I had a future together. A real future.”

  I didn’t respond, since I believed they would have been divorced within two years if they had married. It was one of those rare times I showed restraint. Nice of me, don’t you think?

  “It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

  “Ah, Jo, that’s such crap.”

  “You’re right. I was trying to help you feel better, Zion. You’re going through a terrible hurt right now, and there’s nothing anybody can do to help you. You just have to struggle through it.”

  Zion started crying again, so I handed him my handkerchief. He blew his nose and crammed my good linen hanky in his pocket.

  Oh, well.