A Most Curious Murder (15 page)

There was no time for a beach trip, although it was one of those soft Michigan summer days when the sun was circled with haze, eagles and turkey buzzards flew in lazy circles, sprinklers dashed and dotted front lawns, and the voices of playing children were absorbed by the leaves on all the trees and bushes along the streets.

Jenny thought how she and Lisa could have been lying in the sand by now, the way they used to, and burning because they didn’t pay attention to how long they’d been in the sun. They could have been talking about nothing all day followed by some swimming—challenging each other to races.

Instead, it was another brown funeral.

Jenny pulled into the parking lot of Tannin’s. People standing on the front porch turned to stare as she drove in. She ignored the stares, too occupied with thinking of a way to talk to Abigail Cane without Carmen Volker, the hovering secretary, or Alfred Rudkers, the rude attorney, on guard beside her.

She needed time alone with the woman. She had copies of the letters to show her.

She’d been to the jail to sit with an unhappy Zoe, all the life sucked out of her. Strained, dumb back-and-forth followed: “How’s the food?” “Lousy.” “How’s your cell?” “Perfect, glad you asked.”

The only thing to hold on to was Penelope’s promise to have her out sometime that morning.

Zoe had echoed Jenny’s need to talk to Abigail. “Show her those letters,” she’d begged. “See what she thinks. Something is wrong in that family, I’m telling you. The answer’s there. Words! Words! Words! You’ve got to listen for them. ‘Cheat.’ ‘Cheating.’ ‘Cheaters.’ ‘Cheated.’ Now what could all of that mean? At cards? At what? They have no money—except for Abigail, and she’s not dead. But then there’s that ‘what you’ve been hiding.’ What could that be? Hiding something lets out cheating at cards. Something else. All of them in it together? ‘All three of you.’ You three: Adam, Aaron, and Abigail. My head hurts from thinking so hard.”

Zoe’d looked around at the bare, gray walls, gathered her strength, and turned her attention to how Fida was doing.

“Mom’s giving her a bath this morning. I’m going over to the funeral home a little early, see who’s there. Maybe I can get Abigail alone for a few minutes. Mom and Lisa are coming later. Lisa’s leaving soon. Got to get back to Montana. They’re shooting some finishing shots.”

And then there had been nothing left to say, so Jenny hugged Zoe, told her not to worry, and left for the funeral home, hoping there’d be time later that afternoon for her and Lisa, maybe even with Zoe, to head over to the Lake Michigan shore and have a couple of real “sister” moments before Lisa had to go.

Jenny’s cell phone rang as she pulled into the parking lot.

It was Penelope.

“I’m bringing her to the funeral home.”

“That’s crazy, Penny. People will treat her like dirt. They’ve already made up their minds that she’s the one who did this. Please don’t put Zoe, or the rest of us, through that.”

Jenny had a couple of reasons for disagreeing, one of them having to do with wet sand in the late afternoon, which in no way was going to include Penelope Farnum.

There was a long, cool pause on the other end of the line. “My name is Penelope, Jenny. Not ‘Penny.’”

“Okay, Penelope. My name is Jennifer, not ‘Jenny.’”

“Don’t be an ass,” Penelope said.

“You either. Remember, I knew you when you wet your pants in third grade.”

There was a pause. “And I knew you when you tried to kiss Bobby Solomon in the coatroom.”

Laughter broke out on both ends of the phone.

“Okay. ‘Penny,’ if that’s what you want,” Penelope said. “Just write the correct name on my checks.”

“Deal.” Jenny laughed. “Penny and Jenny. Sounds like a comedy team.”

“So what about Christopher Morley?” she asked. “He still in town?”

“He had to get back to New York, but he told Tony the work looked good and he was in the process of drawing up a contract for two more books on magic people or fairy tales. Whatever she wants to do. He said he hoped she’d approve.”

“Great!” She actually sounded happy. “I like to be the bearer of good news. Lord knows, she can use it. So we’ll see you at the funeral home,” Penny said. “This woman is innocent and doesn’t have anything to hide. You’ll be there?”

“I’m just parking. I hope to set up a meeting with Abigail Cane. Hope you don’t make a mess of things.”

“I know what’s best for my client. And I want to see firsthand how people react to her.”

Jenny hung up, thinking how she was stuck in a world full of lunatics. Nothing was the way it should be. Jenny knew enough about law to realize that none of this was the right thing to do: not Zoe getting detained in the first place, not having her still under suspicion, and not bringing her to the wake of a man many in town think she’d killed.

“Curiouser and Curiouser”—watchwords to live by. Jenny wished Zoe was there to be proud of how she was progressing with her “Alice” studies. She was in a place much like the inside of Zoe Zola’s head. It wasn’t a mind she welcomed breaking into, but at the moment, it felt like the sanest place to be.

***

Jenny stepped onto Tannin’s porch and greeted old neighbors: Millie Sheraton and Louise Dyer, fanning themselves with their handkerchiefs and smiling wide at Jenny. Vera Wattles, another neighbor, was looking aggrieved at Sarah Plenty, who always said the dullest things—and in a monotone.

Jenny ran into Minnie Moon, who lowered her voice, then raised her thick eyebrows as she asked something Jenny didn’t catch.

A few of the men had already pulled off their ties because of the heat. Sullen children whined that they were hot.

Once inside and past Tom Tannin, she pushed through the very warm and crowded vestibule into the viewing room. She got in the mourners line to talk to Abigail, happy to see her secretary and attorney were nowhere in sight.

She watched the people around her, so many drawn into little cliques, their heads together. Jenny could easily imagine what they were gossiping about and dreaded again the moment when Zoe walked into the room.

Dora arrived and stood in the doorway, looking for Jenny. When she saw her in line, she put up her hand and hurried forward, her face frazzled, her body stiffly awkward as she made her way through the crowd.

“I want to show you something,” she whispered loud enough for people to turn, then jerked her head toward the back of the room.

Once alone, Dora put a fist out to Jenny and dropped a small key into her hand, an old key—tarnished brass.

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I gave Fida a bath. She was filthy. I thought it would be a nice surprise for Zoe.”

“Yes?” Jenny knew enough to wait until her mother was ready to get to the meat of the message.

“That red collar of hers was hidden under a lot of dirty hair, so it wasn’t until I soaped her up and took the collar off that I found the key. Duct-taped to the inside.” Dora leaned in close. “Duct tape. Can you imagine? Wrapped around and around.”

“Maybe an extra house key?”

Dora shook her head. “That’s no house key. You take a look at it?”

“Okay. Any idea what it opens?”

“Some kind of box, I’d say. Bigger than a diary key. Smaller than a safe deposit box key.” Dora couldn’t come up with a better answer.

“Let’s ask Zoe when she gets here. Should be any—”

There was a cessation of sound around them, a dropping of voices, a kind of holding of breath throughout the viewing room.

Penelope and Zoe stood in the doorway. Zoe was out of prison orange and back into a long flowered top and white
cuffed pants that brushed the tops of her white sandals. No black this time. When the pair spotted Dora and Jenny, they made directly for them.

Zoe hugged them. She didn’t say anything, just smiled a wan smile, ignoring the shocked faces around her. Her eyes were fixed only on her friends, and then on Penelope, who icily stared down the looks coming their way.

Dora opened her hand and showed Zoe the key she’d found taped to Fida’s collar.

“Where?” Zoe was incredulous, taking the key and turning it over and over in her hands. “Taped to her collar? I didn’t put it there. The only time she was out of my sight was when Aaron had her—other than now. And she’s been with you. I don’t understand.”

Jenny looked up to see Tony edging his way through the crowd.
Here comes the cavalry
. Jenny wanted to laugh. His rugged face lit up when he saw her. He straightened his shoulders and ran a quick hand over his unruly hair. He was dressed in dark-blue summer pants, white shirt, and black tie. Jenny smiled. Clothes sure could change a man.

Dora saw him, too, and would have
yoo-hoo
ed, but instead settled for a wave.

After the greetings—a big hug for Zoe, smiles for Jenny and Lisa, and an introduction to Penny—Dora put her closed hand out to him.

“I found this taped to Fida’s collar,” she whispered.

He took the key.

“I didn’t put it there,” Zoe said.

“You know who did?”

She shook her head.

Tony turned the key over. He fumbled in a pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and took three photos of the key.

“Anybody know what it belongs to?”

Penny threw up her hands. “Nothing to do with me.” She hesitated, looking straight at Tony. “I understand you were a detective in Detroit.”

He nodded.

“Think you can find a way to identify what kind of key that is?” Penny asked. “Maybe what kind of box it fits?”

“I know a man in Detroit. Helped me more than once. A locksmith. A real expert on keys. I’ll text him these pictures, see if he knows what it belongs to.”

“Will you tell the police chief about it?” Penny slowly asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve agreed to work with him—when I can. Let me take a shot at identifying this first. See what I come up with.”

“Jenny Weston,” a woman’s deep voice behind them said.

Jenny and the others turned to Abigail Cane.

The stately woman’s eyes were pained behind her gold-embellished glasses. She looked from one face to the other, finally stopping at Zoe. “I’m so sorry you’ve been drawn into this,” she said, then stopped, overcome with something that wouldn’t let her finish.

It took a minute for her to turn to Jenny. “May I speak to you?” she asked, then turned and walked off with a privileged woman’s certainty, knowing Jenny would be right behind her.

Abigail, up close, looked tired. What she’d been through had aged her. There were dark circles under her eyes and her face was pale. She was no longer as beautifully dressed as she’d been at the last funeral. This dress was black but without style. More like something her secretary, Carmen Volker, would have chosen for her.

“So much . . .” Abigail started to say as they moved to a quiet corner of the room. “I can’t imagine what’s happened to my family.”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head. When she could speak again, Jenny saw tears.

“I think I might need your help. I know you are working with Ms. Zola.”

Jenny had no idea what to admit and so said nothing.

“You mentioned that she’s a writer. I would have loved to talk to her . . . before . . . all of this.” She motioned around the room. “My entire life . . . I’ve gotten along best with creative people.”

“We’ll set up a time and . . .”

Jenny was waved to silence.

“Please listen,” Abigail said, her voice very low. “I need to talk to someone. I will call you.”

Behind them, Carmen Volker wove her way through the gathered people. She touched Abigail’s arm to let her know she was there, then whispered something in her ear. Abigail’s face cleared of emotion as she listened.

To Jenny, she finally said, graciously, in her normal voice, “It’s been lovely talking to you, Jenny. Thank you so much for coming.”

Carmen took Abigail’s arm and pulled slightly. “Alfred is trying to get your attention.”

“Abigail,” Alfred called from where he stood with a group of people. “Times up on that, dear. We have
important
people waiting.”

Jenny went back to where her group stood watching, away from the others.

“What did she want?” Zoe asked.

“I told you we should call her. Too bad she was dragged away by that . . . that ‘frumious Bandersnatch,’” Zoe hissed though gritted teeth.

“Or ‘a Borogrove who lives under sundials and eats only veal.’” Jenny came up with a line she’d read the night before.

“Stop studying, please. You’ll never know as much as I, and really, is this the time for a competition?” She narrowed her eyes, then clucked at Jenny.

“You’d better get to her without those two around,” Tony leaned in to say.

“I’ll call her tonight if I don’t hear from her first,” Jenny said.

“Give the poor soul at least until tomorrow,” Dora said. “Let’s not forget, she’s burying another of her brothers today.”

They were shushed when a minister stood and raised his hands for quiet.

***

Tony went home. The others sat in rockers in the twilight of the Weston’s porch. Zoe held a happy Fida on her lap and the brass key in her open hand. The tarnished key glinted strangely when the light of the moon caught it just right.

“What could this fit?” Zoe asked again and again.

“No idea. But even knowing what kind of thing it fits, how will you ever find the exact box or locker or whatever it goes to?” Lisa asked.

“I’m afraid the box was put somewhere in my house to make me look even more guilty. I’ll bet the police found it today.” She looked glum. “I can see the Perry Mason moment at my trial when Ed walks in with some funky box and holds it up for everyone to see the body parts I keep there.”

“Zoe, we have no idea what that key is to.” Lisa plumped a pillow behind her head.

“Look at what’s happened so far. I feel like a—” Zoe stopped to think of an appropriate image.

Jenny groaned. “I don’t want to hear any more of this tonight, okay?”

“You be quiet, Jenny Weston. I’ll say exactly what I need to say. Nothing more and nothing less.” Zoe spat the words at Jenny.

“And just what were you saying, dear?” Dora asked.

“I was going to say . . .” Fida leaned up to lick Zoe’s chin. “I feel exactly like Alice trapped in Wonderland. It’s as if someone is trying to snare me in my own book. Now here I am, arrested by the Queen of Hearts . . .”

“Is that Ed Warner?” Jenny asked, a gleam in her eye. “I never pictured him as—”

“Quiet, please,” Zoe ordered. “Let’s be serious. I have a brass key someone left for me—attached to my darling dog. The key might as well be sitting on a table way above my head for all the use I have of it. So the first question is, what or who does this key belong to?”

“And don’t forget the two men dead in close proximity to you.” Jenny joined the game. “One by a bullet. One by a hoe.”

Zoe ignored her. “A letter,” she went on, her pretty face balled up in worry. “A letter that came from me but didn’t come from me, since I didn’t send it, was found in Adam’s house. If I did send the letter, how did I get it in there? There was no envelope with a stamp. I’m not in the habit of breaking and entering. Still, someone had to write it since it wasn’t me who invited Adam to visit at dawn. That someone, as I’ve said before, has to be the killer. He or she would be the only one expecting to run into Adam in my yard at that time of night. He or she was the one who laid the trap. Now, the next question is, who is he or she?”

Jenny thought her head was going to explode. “Does all of this have a point we haven’t looked at already?”

“My point is, I didn’t do any of the things I’m being accused of, so it must be someone else. Somebody alive—since the Cane boys are dead. Somebody with a grudge against both of them, even though they had a grudge against each other. Someone who has chosen me as dispensable since I’m rather odd all the way around.”

“Not all the way around,” Jenny said.

Dora hushed her. “There is nothing odd about you, dear,” she said to Zoe, and Lisa the Good agreed. “Okay, maybe not odd but . . .” She thought a while. “Unique. Will that do?”

“So,” she went on, “It could be Abigail who is doing all of this, or someone she’s directing. She’s the only family member left. Still and all, I don’t think the woman has the meanness for
it, even though everybody says she stole the family fortune from her brothers. Which brings me to—”

“This is Lisa’s last night home,” Jenny interrupted. “Could we talk about something other than cruelty and death?”

“No,” Lisa demanded. “I want to hear what Zoe’s come up with. I’m just so sorry I have to leave and can’t help anymore.”

“That’s all right, Lisa,” Zoe nodded to her friend. “I’ll call you as soon as the story’s worked itself out and we know for sure I wasn’t the one who did the killing.”

“I know that already,” Lisa scoffed. “What I want to hear is who is doing this to you. And why.”

“Can we talk about the key again?” Dora said from a chair closest to the outside door.

Jenny rolled her eyes.

“Taped to Fida’s collar. What we have to look at is where Fida has been.” Dora said as Zoe lifted the fluffy dog to look deeply into her one bright eye.

“She won’t say.” Zoe set Fida back in her lap with a tremendous sigh.

“We could beat it out of her,” Jenny suggested.

“She was missing those two days,” Dora said, ignoring Jenny. “I wonder who took her.”

“Probably the person who killed Adam,” Lisa said.

“But why? And why take her out to Aaron’s house?” Dora was into the puzzle with all her might.

“And why tape a key to her collar?” Zoe put in. “Maybe it was Aaron?”

“Or Adam,” Lisa offered.

Zoe stuck a finger into the air. “As I remember, I stepped on a roll of duct tape on Aaron’s floor when we found his body. You remember, don’t you, Jenny?”

Jenny shook her head. “With a body and all that dog crap on the floor, I wasn’t watching out for duct tape.”

Dora rocked back and forth, ignoring all of them. “As I see it, somebody knew you’d find Fida at Aaron’s house and wanted you to have the key. Everybody knows you’d keep searching for Fida until you found her. Whoever murdered the men knew Aaron couldn’t show up for his brother’s funeral because he was dead, which would, of course, send people looking for him. You’d get Fida back. And with her, you’d find the key.”

Zoe sat up. “Who else could it have been? Maybe there was time between when Fida was dropped off and when the murderer came back to kill Aaron. He must’ve sensed something. Had to find a place for this.” She held up the key in a Sherlockian moment.

“All we need to do is discover what this key opens,” Dora said as if she’d solved the crime.

“I vote we concentrate and figure out who committed these terrible murders,” Zoe went on.

“Why are we voting?” Dora asked, distress in her voice.

“Who called a vote?” Jenny demanded.

“I’m going to bed,” Lisa said and got up, leaving the last three gathered to think deeply until nothing came to anyone and they followed Lisa’s example, all going off to bed.