Homicide by Hamlet (Cozy Mystery) Book #3 (Chubby Chicks Club Cozy Mystery Series) (9 page)

Once Gerald left, I walked over to Bezu. “I think after camp finishes tomorrow, I’m leaving town.”

“Why?”

“Because of this here,” I waved my hands around the lobby. “All of this is messing with my mind. I need to get away from it. Maybe a week or two in the North Carolina mountains would do me some good. Maybe I’ll head to Maggie Valley.”

“I’m still not following you. Give me a second.” She turned and handed a bottle of cleaner and a cloth to her helper. “Please wipe down the tables—then you’re done for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her helper nodded and began cleaning the tables.

Bezu put her hand on my back and guided me to a quiet area. “What’s going on with you?”

“Besides a team leader being murdered?”

She held my gaze. “Yes. But there’s more isn’t there?”

I took a deep breath. “And me getting knocked flat by a ghost? And my friend Gerald possibly being a murderer?” All my fears tumbled out of me like an avalanche. “This is my last camp where I’m valuable, productive and needed. After this I head off into the solitary confinement of no man’s land called retirement. I will fade away, all alone, and everyone will forget about me as I shrivel into nothingness. Knowing that the best part of my life is gone and that there’s nothing to look forward to. Nope, I can’t imagine what’s wrong with me.”

Bezu hugged me. “Feel better now that you got all that out?”

Laying out all my fears and insecurities to a trusted friend felt like a load was lifted.

“Actually, I do,” I said.

“And for your information, there’s no way anyone will forget about you. Ever.” She smiled. “And retirement doesn’t have to be an end, it can be a beginning. It can be the best part of your life.”

“How so?” Once Bezu got on a roll, there was no stopping her.

“You’re a strong and powerful woman who can do anything you set your mind to. Not to mention that all of your skills and knowledge are valuable. You’ll always be wanted—you only need to reach out and grab all of the opportunities. Volunteer. Take classes. Travel. Have new adventures. New experiences—maybe even a new love.”

“You set me up,” I laughed. “You’re still trying to get Gerald and me together.”

She tapped my arm. “Remember our promise.”

“Right.” I paused. “What I do remember is that you said you’d help me solve this case as my sidekick. That sure would help me feel appreciated instead of old and dried-up.” I grinned.

“Now you’re just playing with my sympathy,” Bezu laughed. “You’re a sly little fox aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Are you in?”

Bezu sighed. “What do you have in mind?”

“More snooping around. I want to see if I can find out what was going on with Gerald and Priscilla. The whole past issue thing. Every time I ask Gerald about it, he conveniently avoids the subject.”

“Do you think that makes him guilty?”

“Yes.” My heart ached. “I don’t want to find out for certain that he was responsible for Priscilla’s death. On the other hand, I want to know who the killer is and have justice served. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“I think that it’s best to leave this alone—as they say ‘let sleeping dogs lie,’” Bezu said.

“There’s no dog here, and I’m not going to lie down on the case.” I folded my arms on my chest.

She let out a long breath. “What do you have planned?”

“Since Gerald won’t talk, I have to try another way to get information.”

“How?”

“Maybe poke around Priscilla’s office.”

“I assume it’s locked.” Bezu bit her lip. “Do you have a key?”

“No, but I don’t think that will be an issue.”

She held her hand up. ”Hold on there. I’m not breaking and entering.”

“You won’t have to. I will.”

Bezu rolled her eyes. “I’ll visit you in jail.”

“When you do, bring one of your famous chocolate chip muffins and put a file in it.”

“I’m not sure what we’re looking for. It’s not like there’s a neon arrow pointing to a clue.” Bezu shuffled papers on Priscilla’s desk.

“That would be helpful,” I said.

Glancing around the office, I noticed shopping bags from local high-end retailers. In one bag, there was a designer label blouse and a silk scarf. “She liked expensive clothes. That’s for sure.”

“Don’t we all,” Bezu said. “But that kind of willy-nilly spending isn’t in my budget.”

“Mine either. I wonder if she got the blackmail money from Gerald.”

“Maybe,” she said. “By the way, I said I’d be your sidekick, but I never agreed to be your accomplice.”

“Same difference.” I winked.

Bezu said, “This is odd.”

“What?” I rummaged through some files on top of a locked file cabinet.

“Look.” She held up a paper. “This is a photocopy of a front page of a newspaper.”

She handed it to me.

After skimming the page, I read some parts out loud, “November 28, 1969. City council issues. Weather high 70 degrees low 45. Stores opening in the new Oglethorpe mall. A teen killed in an attempted robbery. Update on the Morning News and Evening Press merger. Some sports updates.”

“Why does she have this?” Bezu asked.

“I don’t know.” I did some quick math in my head. “She was about five or six years old in 1969.”

“Maybe something important happened that day.”

“Significant enough for her to go to the Savannah Morning News archives, look through microfilm in order to find this particular page and then have it printed out. That’s a lot of trouble.”

“It sure is.”

“Are there any more pages?” I asked.

Bezu flipped through a stack of papers scattered on the desk. “No.”

“Let’s assume she only needed this page. Now we need to figure out why.”

“Well, it was the day after Thanksgiving. Maybe she wanted to remember what a great holiday she had?”

“I’ve had a lot of great days in my life. But I’ve never felt the need to go back and copy newspapers from them.”

Bezu smiled and nodded. “You’ve got a point. So why this date and only the front page?”

I stared at the copy. What was I missing? “Did it have to do with both newspapers merging?”

She read the page over my shoulder. “Or the weather? Or the football scores?”

“It might be more important than that. I think it might have to do with city council issues, or the teenager getting killed.”

Bezu’s eyes were wide. “I bet she had this because of the article on the teen.”

I read it to her. “‘A nineteen-year-old man was shot last night at a grocery store on Waters and 51st Street during an attempted burglary. Chatham County Sheriff’s Office spokesman, R.W. Walker, said initial reports indicate the storeowner shot the victim after being held at gunpoint. An unknown driver fled the scene. Walker said deputies had responded about eight p.m. to a report of a burglary in progress.’ Why this story?” I asked.

“Maybe it was Priscilla’s brother, or cousin or someone she knew who was shot?”

“Possibly.” I glanced around at pictures hanging on the wall. There were her high school and two college diplomas, as well as a few awards. The shelves overflowed with books, files, and knick-knacks.

The desk held a small banker’s lamp and an air freshener that filled the air with a vanilla aroma. A silver frame held a black and white picture with a man, woman and a young girl and boy.

“This looks like it could be her family photo? I don’t see any siblings besides her brother. He’s alive, remember he’s a caterer. Is there anything else?”

Bezu picked up an envelope. “Looks like a bill from the power company.” She grabbed a handful of envelopes. “And lots of bills from credit card companies, and others stamped past due or final notice.” She handed them to me. “Look at her address, she lived in Ardsley Park.”

“Winona told me that Priscilla inherited her family home there.” I paused for a second. Gears in my brain shifted. “Her home is just a few blocks from where that robbery occurred.” My mouth snapped shut. Holy smokes, there was a connection!

“Do you think that’s why she had the article?”

“Right now, that’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Bezu arched an eyebrow. “It doesn’t to me.”

“Here’s what I’ve gathered so far. We know she lived in the area of the shooting and attempted robbery. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s say Priscilla saw something that night.” I stopped. A gnawing ache grew in the pit of my stomach. “Like the getaway car.”

“Or the person driving it?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I locked eyes with my friend. My heart raced.

She tittered. “I love you to death, but I can never think like you.”

My forehead broke out in a cold sweat. “Gerald is about fourteen years older than Priscilla. He would’ve been nineteen at the time.”

“What does he have to do with this?” Bezu tapped the copy of the article.

“I think this might be why Priscilla threatened Gerald. She might’ve been only around kindergarten age at the time. But, I think she must’ve seen something that night, and Gerald was involved in it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” I let out a breath. “I’m stumped here. Can you think of anything?”

“No,” Bezu said. “I’m afraid I’m about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.”

“You’re incredibly helpful,” I said. “You found the article. And before that, the note in Gerald’s office.”

“You think they’re connected?”

“Maybe.” I paused. “Winona told me that Priscilla seemed obsessed with Gerald’s high school picture on the poster hanging in the lobby.”

Bezu bit her on her bottom lip. “I saw his picture, too. I might add that he was a handsome teenage boy, and has aged very well, don’t you agree?”

“Back to my hypothesis. Let’s say when Priscilla looked at Gerald’s high school picture, it brought back a memory.”

“The attempted robbery and subsequent shooting.”

“Yes.” My pulse quickened. “And she recognized the car in the picture as the same getaway car.”

“With Gerald driving it?”

“Remember in the note she called Gerald ‘Orange Head’ and also said ‘I know what you did?’”

“Yes.”

“How much do you want to bet that either the color of his hat, or hair was orange.”

“You could be chasing your own tail, or you could be right.”

“I’m right, or at least I hope so.” I paced as I spoke. “And after Priscilla saw his high school picture, she remembered his car and hat from the crime that night. So she went and got the article as proof, then threatened Gerald to expose his role in the crime unless he paid up. After all, with this heap of bills, it appears she was in debt. And Winona told me that Priscilla said she was coming into money. And also she was financing Dwight’s business venture. So, there’s a whole lot of money going out. And trust me, being a college professor is not going to make you rich. She was desperate and in over her head, money-wise.”

“Good heavens, Annie Mae. That’s a whole lot of speculation. There’s no way to prove any of this.”

I pointed to the pile of bills, then to the shopping bags. “Here is the short of it. She needed money, saw the opportunity, then threatened Gerald. He either paid up, or she would expose him and his role in the crime.”

“Gracious.” She ran her fingers over her pearl necklace. “Does that mean Gerald killed her to keep her quiet?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

We spoke simultaneously. “Tell the police,” Bezu said, as I said, “Talk to Gerald myself.”

Against Bezu’s wishes I went to Gerald’s for dinner instead of calling the police. I found myself lingering on his doorstep. Maybe I should’ve called José, even if he’d be angry that I was still pursuing the case. And if Gerald killed Priscilla, which seemed very likely, he could kill again.

It wasn’t too late. I could get back in my car and head back home, right now. I took a deep breath. I should just leave. I hadn’t pushed the doorbell.

The door opened and Gerald said, “Hello Annie Mae, I saw you pull up. Is my door bell broken?” He pushed the button and it buzzed.

“I was just about to…” Leave. Run away. Call the police. “Ring it.”

He kissed my cheek, and then led me into the house. “Dinner’s almost ready. I just poured two glasses of wine.”

He already poured the wine? Did he poison mine? Should I leave right now? Tell him that I felt sick?

“You look great. How are you?” He brushed his hand against my arm.

“Great.” My eyes glanced around the kitchen as I checked off potential weapons he could use to kill me. Knife on cutting board. Check. Cast iron pan. Check. Cord on toaster. Check.

He handed me a goblet of wine.

“On second thought, it’s a new tradition to switch glasses.” I handed him my glass and took his.

“That’s strange, but okay.” He raised his glass. “Cheers to you and me.”

We clinked our glasses together.

He drank his.

The wine must be untainted. In one gulp, I emptied mine. Warmth spread as my temperature rose from the rush of alcohol.

I had to pull myself together. I repeated in my head what Bezu had said to me, that I was a strong woman. I was powerful. I could do anything I set my mind to.

I needed to focus on finding out if Gerald murdered Priscilla, regardless of the fact that I was alone in his house and he could very well kill me.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” He poured me another glass.

It took me a second to regain my thoughts. He meant the last day of camp and the competition. “My team is very well prepared.”

“It seems that Priscilla’s team is doing just fine.” Gerald sipped his wine. “Actually more than fine.”

“I’m glad they’re doing so well without a team advisor. Speaking of which, have you heard anymore about what happened to her?”

“Besides the obvious?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure the police are doing a thorough investigation.” He leaned against the counter. “From what I hear, they’ve taken statements from nearly everyone on campus. Isn’t your buddy an officer? Why don’t you ask him about the case?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Oh?”

“It’s just that I’m kind of, off the record, on the side, sort of doing my own investigation. And he would rather me not.”

“Why?”

“Because not too long ago, my friend Cat and I were investigating our friend’s death and we got tangled up in some trouble.”

“Like?” he asked.

“We got stuck in a burning dumpster, were caught impersonating police officers, were chased out of a store and later, were held at gun point.” I shrugged. “Besides that, nothing much.”

Gerald laughed. “Annie Mae, you amaze and amuse me to no end.”

“I’m glad I can entertain you.”

He stood next to me, cupped his hand under my chin and leaned in for a kiss.

Surprising myself, I kissed him back, and my body tingled in places it hadn’t in a long time.

A timer went off.

“We can ignore that, if you want,” he whispered in my ear.

I pulled away. “We shouldn’t let the food get cold.”

Gerald grinned. “Okay, then. I’ll get this, you head into the dining room.”

The table was set with blue-rimmed china, crystal glasses, scalloped patterned silverware and white linen napkins. Three candles were lit. A vase of red roses filled the air with a sweet fragrance.

If I hadn’t been so focused on him being a killer, this night with him could’ve ended with breakfast in the morning.

I grinned.

He set down a pot and lifted the lid to reveal shrimp and grits. Steam and a heavenly Cajun aroma floated in the air.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

Finally realizing that I like you, and at the very same time think you’re a murderer.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”