by V. M. Burns
9:00—Josephine Thomas. Knocked on door—entered—leaves soon afterward—*No verification.
2:00—NN awoken by strange noise—sounded like fireworks—looks down the hall—sees someone head downstairs—doesn’t get a good look at face—didn’t have spectacles on—*If no glasses, can neighbor be sure of time?
2:30—Denise Bennett knocked—door locked—phoned police—deceased found.
It took me a few minutes to realize NN stood for Nosy Neighbor. I read through my notes several more times but didn’t gain any additional insight. I pulled out my laptop in the hope that focusing my mind on something else would help organize my thoughts.
Winston’s abrupt exit made things awkward, especially after Clementine excused herself and went after him. The guests looked at each other for several uncomfortable moments. Something needed to be done.
“Perhaps the ladies would join me in the drawing room for coffee.” Lady Elizabeth stood.
Daphne looked relieved, as did Helen Browning. Jessica Carlisle looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights of a motor car but eventually stood.
In the drawing room, Lady Elizabeth sat in the same seat she had earlier in the day, near the fireplace. She’d left her knitting bag and pulled the needles and yarn out and knitted. Daphne sat in a chair directly across from Lady Alistair Browning, who sat on the sofa next to Lady Elizabeth. Jessica Carlisle stood by the fireplace.
“Lady Alistair, how are things in Kingsfordshire? It’s ages since we’ve been in that part of the country.” Lady Elizabeth smiled.
Lady Alistair sat very stiff and straight. “The weather’s been abysmal. The caretaker’s run ragged. James spends so much time away lately. It’s left a lot in the poor man’s hands.”
Lady Elizabeth glanced at Daphne, who blushed but said nothing.
“Of course I help out as much as I can, but with such a large estate, there’s only so much one can do.”
Jessica had been pacing in front of the fireplace, but at the mention of a large estate, she perked up and looked at Lady Alistair for the first time. “How awful for you.” She sauntered over beside Lady Alistair and sat next to her on the sofa. “Where is your estate?”
Lady Alistair was the center of attention, a state she relished. “Oh, didn’t I say, my son, Lord James Browning, is the fifteenth duke of Kingsfordshire.”
“A duke? Randolph didn’t tell me he was a duke.”
Thompkins and a footman entered with a serving trolley. The butler scanned the room and then silently directed the footman to roll the trolley in front of his mistress.
“Thank you, Thompkins.” Lady Elizabeth put away her knitting. “Lady Alistair, would you care to serve or would you like me to do it?”
“If you don’t mind, Elizabeth. I would love a cup of coffee.”
“I don’t mind at all.” She poured a cup and handed it to Lady Alistair. Lady Elizabeth poured a cup for Daphne and reached out to hand it to her, but Jessica intercepted it.
“Let me get that for you.” Jessica grabbed the cup. She spun around and walked it over to Daphne.
“Thank you.” Daphne looked puzzled as she accepted the cup.
Lady Elizabeth turned her attention to Jessica. “Would you care for coffee?”
“Isn’t there anything stronger?”
“When the gentlemen join us, I’m sure we can get them to pour you something stronger.”
Jessica poked her lip out in a pout that probably went a long way with vapid men like Randolph but didn’t do much in a room full of women. After several seconds, she returned her lip to its original position and turned her attention back to Lady Alistair. “Lady Alistair, I can only imagine the toll it must place on someone to have the burden of caring for a large estate.”
Lady Alistair’s face took on an air of one who suffers silently. “Yes, it does. There are so many concerns between the servants and the tenants that it is a constant burden.” She sighed. “However, one must do one’s duty.”
Lady Daphne giggled. “One most certainly must.” She drank more of her coffee. “This is very good coffee.” She fanned herself. “Is anyone else warm?”
Lady Alistair stared at Daphne.
Jessica’s eyes filled with concern and sympathy for the plight of the aristocrat. She leaned toward Lady Alistair and grasped her hand. “I understand completely. One must always endeavor to do one’s duty.”
Lady Alistair practically preened under the sympathy, although her eyes bore a slight moment of British aloofness when Jessica held her hand.
Jessica was oblivious to any discomfort her action caused. Overcome with compassion, Jessica placed Lady Alistair’s hand on her heart. “I wish there was something I could do to ease your burden, your ladyship.”
Daphne giggled and slurped her coffee. “It’s so warm in here.” She fanned herself more vigorously.
Lady Alistair squirmed slightly.
Jessica smiled. “I hope we can be friends. May I call you Alistair?”
Daphne had just taken a sip of coffee when the question was posed. The shock caused her to choke and she spewed the coffee out of her mouth.
At that moment, the door to the parlor opened and James Browning entered in time to see his beloved spew out coffee onto his mother.
Chapter 12
River Bend Chocolate Factory started manufacturing and selling chocolates in River Bend, Indiana, in the early ’90s. The company had now expanded to several locations in Michigan, including downtown South Harbor and a small satellite on MISU’s campus. The South Harbor store was on a corner lot on the main street downtown. Unlike downtown North Harbor, which was attempting to rebuild itself by catering to an eclectic group of artists, small business owners, and restaurateurs, downtown South Harbor was already well established and bustling. Poised atop a bluff overlooking Silver Beach and the Lake Michigan shoreline, South Harbor’s downtown was flourishing. Cobblestoned streets running parallel to the shoreline were lined with brick storefronts that sold fudge, custom made candles, gourmet jams and jellies, and lighthouse-inspired trinkets for tourists. Tourists described downtown South Harbor with words like “quaint,” “picturesque,” and “charming.” Those same tourists used words like “economically depressed” and “derelict” to describe South Harbor’s twin city of North Harbor. If the two cities were indeed twins, then fraternal twins were the best they could claim. However, dedicated residents hoped to rebuild North Harbor, not into a reflection of South Harbor, but into its own thriving image.
I pulled in front of the store and allowed Irma, Dorothy, and Ruby Mae to get out so they could secure a good seat while I found a parking spot. Thankfully, I spotted someone heading to their car and I followed them and then waited with my turn signal on while they got into their vehicle, loaded children into car seats, and then backed out of their parking space. I pulled into the recently vacated parking space, which was only a few doors away from the chocolate factory.
I took a look at myself in the mirror before getting out of the car and realized I was scowling. I took a few deep breaths and forced my body and my mind to relax. The resentment between North Harbor and South Harbor existed long before the chocolate factory and most of the other shops opened here. Most of these businesses were new and consisted of small business owners, just like myself, who were trying to live their dreams and earn a living. I shook off the black cloud that always descended on my mood whenever I came to downtown South Harbor and hurried inside the store.
Inside, I took a deep breath and inhaled the warm, wonderful aroma of coffee and chocolate. I allowed the sweet smells to envelope my body and settle my mind. I spotted the girls and hurried over to sit down. The shop was busy, but there were several tables pulled together with coats, jackets, and a small reserved sign.
“What do you want?”
I hadn’t even noticed Nana Jo in the corner until she spoke.
She had her cell phone out and was texting.
“How about a hot cup of Earl Grey tea
and a chocolate croissant.”
Nana Jo typed my order.
“She’ll need some help bringing everything.” I rose to go help.
“No need.” She pointed toward a thirty-something-year-old man behind an espresso machine. “That’s one of Ruby Mae’s grandchildren. He said he’d bring whatever we needed.”
I followed Nana Jo’s finger and saw a man with smooth dark skin and a large smile heading our way with a large tray of pastries, brownies, and other delightful-smelling baked goods.
“Wow. That can’t all be for us?” I leaned forward and took a deep breath. The sweet aroma of chocolate and sugary goodness entered my nostrils and spread throughout my body.
“Hello, ladies.” He set the tray on the table and then leaned over and kissed Ruby Mae’s cheek.
She smiled. “This is my grandson, Jason. He’s Joyce’s boy. He owns this store.” The pride was obvious in Ruby Mae’s voice and in her eyes as she looked at her grandson.
Jason smiled. “These are on the house. I hope you enjoy.” He waved and another young man brought over plates and silverware. Jason made sure we had everything we needed and then returned to work.
“I’m impressed.” I looked across at Ruby Mae. “He looks young to have his own business.”
“Jason has always been a hard worker. He graduated from JAMU with the guy who started the chocolate factory and worked with him in the original store. He got Joyce to invest when they were just starting. Thankfully, the business took off and now”—she waved her hand—“he’s able to reap the benefits of that hard work with his own store.”
The young man who brought the silverware carried Dorothy’s tray to the table, which contained all of our beverages. Freddie and Judge Miller arrived soon after.
We spent a few minutes socializing and munching on the delicious goodies Jason generously provided, but then we got down to business.
Nana Jo took her iPad out of her purse. “Now, who wants to go first?”
Freddie said his report would be short. His son, Mark, found out Maria had lived at the NARC before moving to Shady Acres.
Nana Jo whistled.
Based on the looks on the faces of the girls, I knew NARC couldn’t be good. Only the judge and I looked puzzled.
“What’s the NARC?” he asked.
“North Harbor Apartments for Senior Citizens,” Freddie explained. “That place is a real dump.”
“I’ve heard it called the Roach Motel,” Ruby Mae said. “I don’t blame her for leaving.”
“The question is, how could she afford to leave?” Dorothy asked.
No one knew the answer.
Freddie shrugged. “I guess I have some more work to do.”
“Who’s next?” Nana Jo asked.
I raised my hand. “I have some information I’d like to share.” I told everyone of my proposition to Detective Pitt and the timeline I got from his notes. They had a few questions but mostly just listened. Just as I finished, I looked up and in walked Detective Pitt.
“Well, I’ll be . . .” Nana Jo muttered.
He walked over to our table. “Good evening. Fancy meeting you all here.”
He stood awkwardly at the edge of the table. The atmosphere from those seated was frosty.
“Why don’t you join us,” I said.
“I’d like to, but I’m supposed to be meeting someone.” He craned his neck and looked around.
Initially, I was so shocked to see him I hadn’t noticed the large red carnation pinned to his coat. His hair was slicked down to his head and arranged so it almost hid his bald spot. He wore short polyester pants, white shoes, and a white belt. The lapels on his shirt and jacket were indicative of the seventies and he wore so much cologne, he overpowered the chocolate.
“There aren’t very many seats here.” He scanned the room again, noticing all of the tables were filled.
Nana Jo and the girls took sips of their coffee. None of them made eye contact.
I stared at my grandmother with a pleading look.
Eventually, she rolled her eyes, plastered on a half smile, and waved her hand. “Why don’t you sit with us until your guest arrives?”
Detective Pitt looked relieved. “Well, maybe I will for a few minutes.”
The detective’s arrival was awkward. Apparently, no one was sure whether he could be trusted with the information we collected or not. Something needed to be done if we didn’t want to be here all night.
“So, does anyone else have anything they’d like to share?” I took a sip of my tea, which was now lukewarm.
Everyone shuffled in their seats.
Eventually, Nana Jo picked up her iPad. “Well, I met with a research librarian friend of mine today.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her purse. “So, Maria Romanov or Mary Rose Platt was an only child. She was born in Goshen, Indiana. It looks like her family was Mennonite.”
“Mennonite? Never heard of them,” Detective Pitt said.
“Mennonites are a conservative Christian sect. They believe in adult baptism, nonviolence, and pacifism,” Nana Jo read.
“Well, I’m Baptist and we believe in adult baptism too,” Ruby Mae said.
“Aren’t they like the Amish?” Dorothy asked.
“I believe the two groups have similarities from their origins. Initially, both groups were agriculture based, but that’s not unique.” She surfed her iPad. “Amish shun technology and I haven’t found anything indicating Mennonites do.” She scrolled further. “There are several different types of Mennonites. Some are like other conservative religious groups. Others more closely align with the Amish.”
Irma coughed. “I used to work with a woman who was a Mennonite. She didn’t cut her hair and wore it pulled back in a bun with a doily on top.” She coughed. “She talked funny too.”
“Like Josephine said, some Mennonites adhere to the old ways. They homeschool their children and speak Pennsylvania Dutch,” Judge Miller added.
“What’s Pennsylvania Dutch?” Detective Pitt asked.
“It’s very similar to German,” Judge Miller said. “I believe it’s a dialect that stemmed from the German immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania.”
Nana Jo returned to her iPad. “Looks like Maria Romanov’s family were the ultra-conservative Mennonites. She married a man named, Abraham Rosenberg when she was fifteen. He died from a plow accident about six months after they were married.”
“That’s hard. She was married and widowed before she was sixteen.” Ruby Mae pulled some fluffy wool from her knitting bag.
“Not much else is known about her after that.” Nana Jo looked up. “However, my friend is going to keep digging.”
I noticed she was careful never to indicate the sex of her friend.
“Who’s next?” Nana Jo looked down her nose. “Ruby Mae?”
“I talked to Denise Bennett, the facilities manager. She claimed Maria’s name had been on the wait list for years.”
“Bulls—”
“Irma!”
She put her hand over her mouth and then burst into a fit of coughing.
I couldn’t help wondering if some of her coughing spells weren’t related to having to choke down obscenities. Maybe we should just let her swear and see if her coughing decreased.
“How is that possible when she had only been at Shady Acres a few months?” I asked.
“Exactly. Enquiring minds want to know.” Ruby Mae pursed her lips. “I asked the same thing.” She finished what appeared to be a complicated stitch involving a cable hook and a lot of muttering under her breath, before continuing. “She said Maria called and had her name placed on the wait list for a large unit before she moved in.” She knitted in silence.
“Well, I hope you told her she better prove it,” Dorothy said.
“Nope, I had my son, Donald, call her. He’s a lawyer in Chicago.”
Detective Pitt rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know.”
Ruby Mae looked down her nose at Detective Pitt. “Did you say som
ething?”
Detective Pitt tugged at his collar. “No, ma’am.”
“I didn’t think so.” Ruby Mae sniffed. She hadn’t been a school teacher, but she definitely had the schoolmarm look down pat. I guess it came from single-handedly raising nine children and running her own cleaning business. “As I was saying, I had Donald call her and low and behold, I’m going to be moving into Maria’s apartment by the end of the week.” She looked over at Detective Pitt. “As soon as the police release it.”
“It’s a crime scene,” he said apologetically.
“Is that everything?” Nana Jo looked at her friend.
It was obvious Ruby Mae was holding something back. Whether it was due to our police presence or something else was unclear.
“There’s something funny about that woman. I can’t put my finger on it, but she’s sneaky. I don’t believe for one minute Maria had her name on the wait list years earlier.”
Dorothy shook her head. “Maria never mentioned it.”
“And she would have mentioned that. She talked about everything else.” Irma coughed.
“Donald said Denise Bennett was very evasive when he talked to her. He also said he couldn’t find any information on her.”
Judge Miller sat up and leaned forward. “Now, that is interesting.”
“Why? Maybe she’s a good law-abiding citizen with no prior criminal record,” Detective Pitt added.
Judge Miller shook his head. “Lawyers have access to a lot of systems that track more than just illegal activity.”
“What kind of information?” Nana Jo asked.
“Anything public. This is a technological age and a lot of information is in public databases. If you went to public school, got a driver’s license, bought a house, or paid taxes. All of that is public and lawyers can access it.”
“Well, that’s scary,” Dorothy said.
Judge Miller chuckled. “The data is there. As a society, we use technology without question. The issue is, who has access to the data and when. If he went into one of those systems and couldn’t find anything on this Denise Bennett, that is very suggestive.”
