“I’m not saying she did or didn’t. There’s not enough evidence yet. However, she’s the most obvious early contender. The game has just started, though. It’s the first quarter, so a lot could happen.” He chugged the end of his beer. “I don’t think you should say anything to Russell at this point. You don’t want him to resent you for not taking his girlfriend’s side.”
“You’re right. I’d hate to put a wedge between us.” Gary was always so level headed. She, on the other hand, tended to be more reactive. “I’ll just stall like Trey said until the final autopsy report comes back.” She swirled the wine in her glass. “But I’m going to be keeping my eye on Estelle, for sure.” She thought about Carolyn’s brother, Glenn, and her discovery from the previous summer. “After all, we know of at least one bad apple in their family orchard already.”
Chapter 5
Finally something he could get into, Russell thought. He agreed to pick up Estelle and go with her to Mortimer’s Funeral Home to make preparations for Carolyn’s interment. It wasn’t that he was obsessed with death; he just thought it would be more interesting than hanging out in the parlor watching the parade of visitors dripping condolences all over Estelle.
Sitting across from Jeffrey Mortimer, Russell’s mind wandered while Estelle signed a stack of papers and talked about insurance. He wondered how a man could spend his whole life dealing with grief and death. When he saw Jeffrey’s Rolex watch peek out from under the sleeve of his black suit, he had his answer. His attention was brought back to the discussion when he heard the words “concrete burial vault.”
“I assume you want the premium model.” Jeffrey filled in the paperwork without even looking up at Estelle.
“Now wait a minute,” Russell said. “Let’s hear about this.” He saw a look of surprise on Estelle’s face. “Tell us about these vaults.”
Jeffrey reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a brochure. “There are three types. The basic vault only includes a single liner. You don’t want that. The standard vault has thicker walls to keep out water, insects, and any other elements. It’ll get the job done—for a while.”
Russell put on his reading glasses and leaned forward, trying to take in the brochure’s details. Before he could read much, Jeffrey turned the page.
“Now if you really want to protect your beloved mother for the longest time possible, this is what you want. The Premium Platinum Protection Vault. Not only does it contain the thickest walls possible, the liner is made with semi-precious materials to delay rust and erosion of the casket. You can even add photographs or emblems to the lid as a lasting memorial to your dear, sweet mother.” Jeffrey sat back and let out at long sigh, apparently satisfied with himself.
Russell imagined it was the same sound the man made after hanky panky with the little woman.
Estelle put her hand on Russell’s arm. “What do you think, darling?”
He cringed at the sappy term. “You see, I’m kind of an expert myself in underground containment. My buddy Cliff and I are building a bunker designed to last fifty years or more. Can yours do that?”
Caught off guard, Jeffrey cleared his throat to answer. “Fifty years is a long time, Mr. Sinclair. It’s hard to say.” He carefully refolded the brochure. “How about this. You come back in fifty years and dig up the vault. If there is a leak, I’ll give Miss Fitzhugh here a full refund.” He let out a hearty laugh, and Estelle smiled weakly.
Russell wasn’t laughing.
“Hmm. One more question. Does this vault do anything to keep the corpse from drying up like an old rotted prune and being eaten away by worms and maggots?”
“Russell!” Estelle turned to Jeffrey. “We’ll take the Premium model.”
“Fine.” He put the brochure back in the drawer and closed it with a definitive bang. “I’ll be back in a moment to take you to see the casket selections.” He strolled out of the room, victory oozing from every pore.
Estelle waited until Jeffrey was out of earshot. “What was that all about?”
Russell watched her face and neck turn red like Deena’s did when she was angry. Must be a girl thing, he thought. “I’m sorry, but I don’t like seeing people throw away money. I saw men—young men—buried on the battlefield with nothing more than a few handfuls of dirt. It doesn’t seem natural to lay down so much cash on something that goes into the ground and you never see again.”
“That ‘something’ you are referring to is my mother!” She stared at Russell and tightened her grip on the purse in her lap.
“That’s not what I meant.” He studied her face and realized he was out of line. This was their first fight, and it was his fault. “Look, it’s your mother, your money, your call. I don’t want to interfere.”
Her expression soften. “I’m so glad you’re here, Russell. I’m just on edge. I don’t know how I would have managed this without you.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.
She’s got spunk, he thought. I like that. She’s not afraid to stand up for herself.
Jeffrey returned and asked the couple to follow him.
Russell stood and offered Estelle his arm. “Let’s go, dear, and pick us out the best kick-ass, heavy-duty, Cadillac coffin of all time!”
As they followed Jeffrey down the hall, Russell thought about how deep a hole he was digging, relationship-wise, that is. He also wondered how long it would last and how long it would be until Estelle unearthed his inner demons.
Chapter 6
Someone had to be the chairman of the Library Service Project, and this year the chore fell to Helen Burlington. She had a harder time than usual getting volunteers since Carolyn’s death had spread a pall over the event. About five years earlier, the elite club grew weary of serving the community. Some of the members had moved away or passed away—shirking their responsibilities. That’s when the group decided to bring in fresh blue blood. The only women they trusted to carry on the mantel of town snobbery were their daughters and nieces. Unfortunately, not many had stayed around Maycroft. Besides that, the town’s Junior League held more prestige and offered more perks for the younger women.
Deena was running late—as usual. One of her worst habits was tardiness, which was ironic since she had spent twenty-nine years as a school teacher. If only her darn clothes dryer hadn’t stopped in the middle of a cycle, she would have been right on time. She had forgotten to pick up the dry cleaning, and now she had to choose a different outfit. Her pink Nordic sweater looked best with her gray slacks. Since they were still wet, she had to find a different sweater that would go with her navy pants, the only nice ones left in her closet. She tried on three before choosing a green cardigan. She dug around in her closet to find an acceptable pair of shoes. One of these days, she would get more organized.
As she drove the short distance to the library, she glanced in the car mirror at her forehead. The bruise had gotten darker. At least it matched her green sweater, she thought. More concerning, though, was the Bluebonnet Club. What if they didn’t want her to be there? What will she say to Penelope? Before she could think too hard, she was pulling into the parking lot.
From her car, she watched as Betty held open the door for Helen as she carried in a box of supplies. Maybe it was okay that she was fashionably late. Here goes nothing, she thought, and headed to the front door.
Expecting to find a flurry of activity inside, Deena was surprised to see just four women drinking coffee at a table covered with boxes of assorted decorations. She spotted Betty at the front desk and walked over.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” Betty said. “I thought you’d be at the newspaper office writing Carolyn’s obituary.”
“That’s Laurie’s beat. I write about politics, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. Are you here to help decorate?”
“I thought I would lend a hand if the Bluebonnets will have me.”
“They can use all the help they can get.” Betty walked Deena over to the table. “Ladies, this is Deena Sharpe.
She is a friend of Estelle’s and was at the party Tuesday. She is volunteering to help with the decorating.”
“Bless your heart,” Helen said. “We were just discussing themes. Have a seat.”
Relieved, she pulled up a chair. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Well,” Helen said, “we had chosen Santa’s Sleigh Ride as our theme, but somebody lost the sleigh.”
“I told you I didn’t lose it. I just can’t remember where I stored it.” Doris Smathers looked indignant and added another packet of sugar to her coffee.
“Regardless, we are all out of ideas.”
Deena thought about all the holiday themes in her classroom and the school library. “Let me see,” she said, getting up to peruse the decorations.
“Whatever it is, let’s make it simple,” Helen said. “I don’t want to be here all day. I need to get my hair done.”
Deena spotted a large cut-out of Santa Claus. “How about ‘St. Nick’s Story Time?’ We could use that wooden Santa and make a display of Christmas and Hanukkah books. We could make a little wreath for each table with a book in the center.”
“I love it,” Helen said. They all nodded in agreement.
“Me, too!” A shrill voice from behind her startled Deena as she turned around to see Penelope Burrows wearing a tacky snowman sweater and blinking earrings. “Grab your guns, ladies, and let’s knock this thing out.”
“Guns?” Deena asked.
“Glue guns, of course.”
Deena made a list of supplies they would need and sent Helen and Doris on their way to the craft store. She assigned Lynne and Roberta to help Betty start pulling the books they would put on display. That left her and Penelope to prepare the Santa background.
Deena smiled at Penelope as they unwrapped the large wooden panels. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Pardon me? I don’t believe we have ever met.”
“Don’t you remember? We met—” Deena stopped herself, thinking it might be better not to mention that they had been at the same table. “I’m Deena Sharpe.”
“Nice to meet you. Are you related to the Sharpes of Palm Springs?”
“I don’t believe so.” Deena pulled on the butcher paper wrapping.
“Hmm.” Penelope set down Santa’s head.
For the next few minutes, they worked in silence as Deena tried to think of something to say. She noticed that Penelope had applied heavy make-up to her face and neck, trying to cover up several deep scratches. She also had scratches on one of her hands. Deena was sure she would have remembered those abrasions from the party. After all, Penelope had been up close and personal with Gary. “Such a shame about Carolyn,” Deena said at last.
Penelope brushed dust off her dark wool slacks. “Time for a break.” Walking over to the table, she poured herself a cup of coffee and then pulled a prescription bottle out of her purse. Deena watched her gulp down the pills with her hot coffee.
“About Carolyn,” Deena said, “can you believe she fell down the stairs in her own house?”
“Crazy old witch. I’m not surprised by anything she did. You reap what you sow.”
“Oh, I thought you two were friends.” Deena faked the surprise in her voice.
“Couldn’t stand her. She was such a phony. Everyone thought she was so generous and thoughtful. I knew who she really was. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m glad the old cow is gone to that big grazing pasture in the sky.” She reached back in her purse, pulled out a small bottle of Jack Daniels, and poured a generous amount into her coffee. “Just a little something to get over the grief, if you know what I mean.” She winked at Deena and took a big swig from her cup. “Want some?”
“No thanks. I’m not really into day drinking.” Not wanting to appear shocked, Deena picked up her cell phone and opened her Pinterest app. She had pinned a small wreath that she thought would work perfectly for the centerpieces.
Lynne rolled a cart over with the books they had found. “This may be more than we need, but better safe than sorry. I’ll leave them on the cart until we decide where to put them.”
Deena thought of a new approach get the lowdown on Penelope. “Lynne, would you mind helping me move the Santa display into place?”
“As long as it’s not too heavy. My back’s been giving me trouble.” They walked to the far side of the library. Deena asked Lynne to carry Santa’s head and she carried the body. They set the pieces down and began scooting a table and chairs out of the way.
“Poor Carolyn,” Deena said, opening the conversation.
“Bless her heart. I’m really going to miss her. Such a tragic accident. And right there in her own home.” Lynne shook her head.
“I know.” Deena considered her words carefully. “You don’t think she might have been on some medication that made her disoriented, do you? Or maybe have had a drink?”
“Drink! Heavens, no. Carolyn was not that sort.” Lynne lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ll let you in on a secret, though. Penelope Burrows is the biggest lush this side of the Mason Dixon.”
“No!” Deena tried to sound shocked.
“Yes, ma’am. Did you see her at the party? She was so drunk she couldn’t even walk. I watched her try to get up to go to the ladies’ room, but she was so soused that Edwin made her sit back down.”
“Oh, my.” Deena shook her head in disbelief. “Is it true that she and Carolyn were not best of friends?”
“That’s an understatement. You should have seen them at the Fall Fling. I thought for sure Penelope was going to start a cat fight. Luckily, Edwin broke it up. He was always sweet on Carolyn, you know.”
“Really?” Deena stood holding the display, ready to put it in place. “Did you notice those scratches on her hand and face? What do you think happened?”
“She said she tripped and fell into the Christmas tree on the front porch when she was leaving Carolyn’s. I didn’t see it, but it sounds like something she would do when she’s all liquored up.”
“You two aren’t gossiping about me, are you?” Penelope appeared again from nowhere.
“Of course not, dear. By the way, I just love that sweater,” Lynne said and smiled sweetly.
Penelope grinned and turned to Deena. “You know, honey, unless you want to ruin your reputation around here, you might want to take your hand off Santa’s crotch. Some people might get the wrong idea.”
Deena looked down to see how she was holding the display. “Oh, my,” she said again as her face and neck reddened. “Pardon me, Santa. Is that a candy cane in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
Penelope howled, Lynne blushed, and Deena wished she had held her tongue.
By the time she was finally heading home, she had ruled out Penelope as a suspect. It seemed she had never left the table during the party. If she were drunk enough to take a tumble on the porch when leaving the party, she was definitely too drunk to have managed the stairs unnoticed.
Deena blew on her thumb where she had burned herself with the glue gun. For a bunch of snobby old gossips, the Bluebonnet gals were actually some hard workers. She couldn’t help but laugh thinking about how they teased each other. It reminded her that people are just people—even if they are rich.
Hopefully, Trey was right, and Carolyn’s death was just a tragic accident. Deena hated trying to find the worst in people instead of the best. Still, Estelle had a point. It didn’t seem likely that Carolyn would have just rolled too near the edge of the stairs. If Penelope’s jealousy weren’t a motive, maybe greed was the ugly hand of the killer. The reading of Carolyn’s will was scheduled for this evening. Maybe there would be new leads. Deena prayed none of them would point right back in the direction of her brother’s new girlfriend.
Chapter 7
Without even looking at his cell phone, Russell knew the call was from Cliff just by the ringtone. As they pulled into the side driveway of Estelle’s house, Russell saw a sleek black Porsche parked at the curb and a man knocking on the door.
“Who is that?” He knew it was too early for Jim Redmond to be there about the will.
“Um...uh...just someone I know.” Estelle was out of the truck before he could put it in park.
He caught the phone call right before it went to voicemail. “Hey man, what’s up?”
“Are you with Estelle again? She’s got you on a short leash,” Cliff said.
“Nah. She just wanted me to help her with the funeral arrangements. Later, we are going to meet with the attorney about the will.” He watched as Estelle and the stranger went inside and closed the door behind them.
“Hey, don’t let that guy cheat her. You know how some of those lawyers can be.”
“I’m on it. So what’s up?”
“Just checking to see if we’re still going hunting on Saturday? It’s the last time we can shoot ducks ‘til after the holidays.”
“You bet. I need some guy time.” Russell hesitated. “Although, I will need to check with Estelle just to be sure.”
“She’s got you bagged and tagged, buddy. Call me later and let me know if the little woman gives you permission.”
“Yeah, will do.” Russell got out of his truck and looked back over at the shiny new Porsche. Not a car you see very often around these parts, he thought. Probably another family friend there to gush over Estelle. Amazing how many people come out of the woodwork when someone dies. Although Russell had a soft heart, he hated all the emotional stuff.
When he walked inside, Estelle was coming out of the parlor trailed by the tall, middle-aged man. He was dressed ready for a blizzard, wearing a wool scarf wrapped up to his chin, a heavy overcoat, and leather gloves. Russell could see Irene watching them from the kitchen.
Estelle stopped in the foyer. “Russell, this is Blake Whitman.” They shook hands. “Russell, would you mind waiting for me in the parlor while I show Mr. Whitman out?”
Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set Page 21
