Coastal Cottage Calamity (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 2) (9 page)

Chapter Sixteen

 “We’re not going
to Augusta, Miss Vivee.” I said when Viola Rose walked away. Viola Rose hadn’t
done anything but stirred up Miss Vivee’s curiosity and sealed my fate.

“We don’t need to
take a road trip to interview that girl,” Miss Vivee said, she had gotten testy
with me because I continually insisted we weren’t going anywhere to look for
her suspects.

“How do you plan
on doing it then, Miss Vivee?”

She pointed to the
flyer on the table. I slid it between the two of us. It was the one that Ron
Anderson had given Bay.

“There.” She
jabbed her fingers at the address of the church for the memorial service printed
on the flyer.

 “You can’t go
butting into a federal investigation.”

“They don’t know
what to investigate,” Miss Vivee said and sucked her teeth. “They don’t know
how he died.”

“I told Bay what
you said about him being poisoned. That’s why he roped off the house. He
believes you.”

“I bet you didn’t
have a lot of friends when you were younger, did you?” Miss Vivee turned in her
seat and looked at me. “You tell everything you know. When I was growing up
kids like you ended up in face down in the dirt out behind the schoolhouse.”

I think she just
threatened me.

“I told you,” she
shifted, turning back to face Mac and picked up her sandwich. “Just because the
feds are in on it, doesn’t mean I’m going to stop looking into it. Especially
now that Renmar may be involved.”

The “feds?” She
was such a mobster.

I scooted a little
farther down the bench, away from her.

“But I will just
not
outwardly
go against them,” she continued her face softening some. “We
can do it and no one will know.” She took a bite out of her sandwich, seemingly
content with herself.

We?

“And so I ask
again,” I said. “How do
you
plan on pulling that off? Interviewing
people? Right in front of Bay.”

“Everyone talks to
each other at a memorial service,” she said clearly agitated with me. “Have you
been living under a rock all your life?” She frowned up and took a breath. “It’ll
be easy. And I know the killer will be there. The murderer always comes to the
funeral,” she said with a nod.

“All of them can’t
be the murderer,” I said. “So maybe all of them won’t show up.”

“Did you watch
them that day at the Maypop?” she said. “Every one of those women wanted to
show the other that she was the one that was foremost in Oliver’s heart. None
of them will miss his memorial service. And I know greedy pants Ron Anderson
will be there with bells on.” She looked at Mac. “You follow my lead, Mac. Just
like when we went to Atlanta to investigate Gemma Burke’s death. We’ll get them
all to talk.”

He grinned. “We
make a good team, Vivee.”

“Don’t get no
ideas,” Miss Vivee said. “We make a good
investigative
team, and that’s
it.”

“For now,” he said
and took a sip of his drink. “So you’ve told me the
who
, now tell me the
how
,” Mac said.

“He was poisoned,”
she said and took a bite of her sandwich.

“Yeah, Logan said
she told Bay that,” he said. “But how was it done?”

“Not sure,” she
said. “But I am sure he was poisoned.”

“Poisoned.” He
repeated the word, tilting his head to think about it. He took a slow sip of
his iced tea and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “It would have had to be
something that wouldn’t kill him instantly because he had time to walk over to
the shoal before he succumbed.” Mac looked at Miss Vivee. “I did notice the
drool on his mouth and the burn marks on his lips.”

“See!” Miss Vivee
smacked my thigh. “I knew it and Mac agrees. Don’t you, Mac?”

“I could see it.
Poison.” He nodded his head while he spoke. “From the evidence, I could see
that he might have been poisoned.”

“Mac,” I said. “You
were right there, saw the drool and the burn the day it happened, and it never occurred
to you before now that Oliver might have been murdered?” I asked.

“Well I wasn’t
looking for any signs of a murder, and,” he smiled sweetly at Miss Vivee and
nodded toward her, “when I’m around her she captivates my full attention. I
don’t notice anything else.”

“Give it a rest,
Mac,” Miss Vivee said. “I just have a keener eye than you. That’s all.” I shook
my head at the two of them. “We’re going and check out the house tonight,” she
continued. “The feds roped it off, but until that autopsy report gets back with
conclusive evidence of how he died, they don’t have a reason to search it
seeing he died on the shoal. But I’m thinking that whatever was used to poison
him might still be there. And I want to find it.” Miss Vivee leaned in over the
table and whispered. “You wanna go?”

“I’m in,” he said
with a wink. “What time are the three of us meeting up?”

“Not three.” I
circled my finger around the table. “Just you two,” I pointed to the two of
them. “Not me.” I said adamantly. “I’m not going.”

Chapter Seventeen

It was after nine
thirty by the time we got to Oliver’s house. His cottage was surrounded by
yellow crime scene tape. So was his rock garden. I was crouched down on the
perimeter of Oliver’s house with Miss Vivee and her “Down with Whatever She
Does Man,” Mac. I knew I said I wasn’t coming. I probably had said it fifty
times, but telling Miss Vivee I wasn’t going to do something she wanted me to
do was like talking to a brick wall. Plus, I figured someone had to watch those
two.

I pointed to the
rock garden. “See, Miss Vivee? They noticed the rock was out of place.” The
sight of the rocks made me rub my hip, a reminder of me sneaking around, just
like I was doing now.

We’d come out in
full cat burglar mode. The night unfortunately, wasn’t as dark as I’d liked,
there was a full moon. According to Miss Vivee that’s when all the craziness
happens. If you asked me the craziness had begun earlier, in broad daylight. It
had started when Miss Vivee decided we were going to become housebreakers.

The streets had
been quiet and almost desolate as we made our way to the beachfront property.
The only sounds as we neared Oliver’s place were the waves lapping against the
shore, and a chorus of cicadae and frogs.

Miss Vivee had
sent me to buy us black ski masks at Hadley’s, and was quite upset when I
informed her that a small corner drugstore, in Georgia, in the middle of June,
didn’t have any.

Go figure.

Instead Mac was
dressed in navy pants and a dark plaid shirt, face uncovered, he brought his
cane along, which in my mind would go more toward being able to identify him if
seen than not. Although he did tell us that it could double as a weapon. Miss
Vivee had on her funeral clothes as she called them – a black dress, a black
hat with a veil (to cover her face since she had no ski mask) and her knee high
rubber boots, which were green. She didn’t have any black ones she told me. And
to Miss Vivee’s chagrin, I had on jeans, a T-shirt and tennis shoes. Evidently
not appropriate attire for a break-in. I did have my knapsack, filled with the essentials
when out in the field, and I’m hoping, during home invasions as well.

Miss Vivee had
wanted to park at Mims Point Park, descend the stone steps where Gemma had
received her fatal blows and walk along the beach. So we wouldn’t be spotted,
she had said. I figured the usual ten minute walk, with their age and Mac’s bad
hip, would turn into a twenty minute trek with them too puckered out, if they
made it, to do anything but sit once we got to Oliver’s.

Running an illegal
ring with not-so-street-wise geriatric thugs was going to be the death of me.

I dropped them off
near the house and told them to wait for me there while I parked the car. I
figured they could sit on the bench that Miss Vivee and Koryn had sat on the
day I’d gone to ask Oliver to use his boat, which was also the day he died.

Of course when I
got back to where I told them to stay they weren’t there.

“Miss Vivee!” I
called out in a strained whisper, trying not to raise my voice. “Miss Vivee!
Where are you?”

Darting across the
area between where I told them to sit and where I dropped them off, I began to panic.
Twisting my body from side to side, searching up and down the beach for any
sign of them, I could feel a knot rising up in my stomach and my throat tighten.

Did someone spot
them? Did the police have them?

Then I heard. “Yoo-hoo!”

It was Miss
Vivee.”

“Yoo-hoo, Logan.
We’re over here.” Mac waving their position to me with his cane high up over
his head.

Oh my God. Was she
sending out a signal so the police would come?

I turned toward
the “yoo-hoo siren” and stealthily ran over to where they were.

“Shhh! Miss Vivee,”
I whispered. I pulled Mac’s arm down. “We are supposed to be quiet. Furtive
like. Not call attention to ourselves.”

“Why? There’s no
one around here,” Miss Vivee looked around as she spoke in her normal voice.
“Just us.”

“Shhh!” I shushed
her again, putting my index finger up to my mouth. I crouched down and bent my
knees, trying to be low to the ground, out of sight. “Why did you leave from
over there?” I pointed back in the direction of the bench. “I told you two to
stay put.”

“Figured we’d get
a head start. You can move faster than us, you know,” Miss Vivee said.

“So could a
turtle,” I muttered.

“What did you
say?” Mac asked in his regular voice.

“Never mind,” I
whispered. “Everybody. Please. Keep your voices down.”

I looked at the
two of them looking at me. Mac with his cane, Miss Vivee with her purse on her
arm. If I hadn’t been so nervous, it would have actually been funny. I was crouching
down, ears on high alert, readying myself to run at the first noise.  My partners
in crime, however, couldn’t even stoop let alone crouch and they surely
couldn’t run anywhere. So they stood, as erect as their fragile vertebrae could
manage, together, ready for their geriatric-style home invasion caper.

We were so going
to jail.

“What do we do
now, Logan?” Miss Vivee whispered.

Why is she asking me?

And as if she
could read my mind: “You’re the only one that’s got experience breaking into
places.”

Oh, that’s why . .
.

“Miss Vivee,” I
whispered back. “That was only one time and I made a promise to myself, my
mother
and
nearly to God (I try not to make promises to God, just in
case I mess up) that I’d never do it again.”

“Well, it’s a
little too late to worry about that now, dear,” Miss Vivee said and circled her
finger around indicating where we were. “You’ve done the deed.”

I wasn’t going to
argue with her. I just wanted to do it and get out of there.

“First we have to
find a way to get in,” I said. “You two stay here and I’ll see if I can find an
unlocked window. Then I can open the door for you.” I took off across the yard,
thought about it and came back. “Stay. Right. Here.” I looked at the two of
them and pointed my finger to the ground. “Right here. Understand?”

“We got it,” Miss
Vivee said.

I took off again.
Across the sand. Through the sea oats. Hopping over the scattered rocks. Cat-like
moves, staying close to the ground, ducking and weaving in case anyone was
surveilling the house. I did the limbo under the crime scene tape, danced
around the rock garden and did a side-step to the house. Bracing myself on the
side of it, I jerked my head right then left.

Looked like the
coast was clear.

Whew!

I set off to find
a way in. I circled the house twice, checked every window I could reach. Tried
climbing up the gutter as well as attempting to stand on the banister and hoist
myself on top of the porch’s roof. After I couldn’t do either, I thought to
check the doors, just in case they were open. No such luck. Everything was
locked up tight.

There was no way
we were getting in.

Breathing hard
from my attempts at entrance, I bent over, arms swinging low and darted back to
Miss Vivee and Mac.

This time they had
stayed put.

“I can’t find a
way in, Miss Vivee.” I tried to keep my voice low but I was out of breath.
Sucking up air I said, “Looks like we’re locked out.”

“Then it’s a good
thing I bought the key,” Miss Vivee said and opened up her purse.

“You have a key to
Oliver’s house?” My brows shot up.

“Of course I do.”
She handed it to me. “Well, he left one at the Maypop in case he ever needed
one. Not that he ever did, he never locked the doors. I took that one.”

“You. Have. A
key?” I stood up straight and tried not to scream.

“Yes. I have a
key,” she said as if
she
was getting frustrated with
me
. “Why do
you keep saying that?”

“You had a key and
you didn’t tell me before I went to try and get in.”

“You told us to
wait here,” Miss Vivee looked at Mac who nodded. “You were quite stern about
it.”

Please Lord, give
me strength.

“Come on you two.”
I spoke in my regular voice. I stood up straight and marched off toward the
house. “Let’s get this over with.”