NOT What I Was Expecting (15 page)

Luke smiled, but
it was a sad smile, “I told you Ms. Eliza was his favorite.  I was worried that
he was so upset by the whole Monday episode that it might have caused some kind
of drastic decline in his health.  Did I tell you I called his doctor Monday
afternoon?  I couldn’t get an appointment for him until the end of the week. 
Then after worrying about it all afternoon, I called a company that has
companions for the elderly – you know, like sitters except they would go do
whatever Uncle Barney was doing because he didn’t sit.  I was scheduled to
interview several possible companions on the day we found Uncle Barney’s body.”

Luke paused and
shook his head, deep in thought.  “He was either upset about the way Monday
went, or it hit him hard that he couldn’t remember it.  Whichever it was, he
didn’t leave the house on Tuesday.  If I’d stayed with him after the funeral on
Wednesday like I should have, he’d still be here.  You know everything after
that.  Probably more than you want to know.”  He sat back in his chair and
smiled at me ruefully. 

“Actually, I don’t
know nearly enough, and I wish I knew more,” I said.  Luke looked deep in
thought again.  “You’re thinking that maybe there really were two strange men
in the kitchen with Eliza that day, aren’t you?” I asked. 

“I’m not sure,”
Luke answered.  “But I guess we should start with figuring out why someone
would beat up and kill a nice old lady like Ms. Eliza in the first place? 
Then, what made them come after Barney?”

We stepped out of
the building into the bright morning sun and headed for the small grocery store
Luke had found earlier.  We decided to get a few groceries first, go drop them
back at the apartment, and then find some clothes stores.  When we entered the
store we each picked up a carry basket and headed down the nearest aisle.  We
went up and down the aisles picking out a few quick, easy-to-prepare things.  I
liked this little store.  No booming voice over the loud speaker, no dodging
other people’s carts, no searching in vain for a short checkout line.  It was
peaceful.

After we dropped
our groceries back at Serge’s apartment, we hit the streets again in search of
clothes.  I found some jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts in one shop.  Then I lucked
out and found sandals and underwear in a great little boutique.

It was almost one
in the afternoon when we popped back to Serge’s with my purchases, and I was
starving.  “I’m thinking I want to make something healthy for lunch.  You know,
stress tends to lower your immune system, and you don’t want to get sick,” I
yelled to Luke, since I was in the kitchen and he was in the living room on the
laptop.

“Sure, that works
for me,” he agreed.  “Uh, what are we having for lunch?”

Luke came into the
kitchen with a big, worried smile on his face.  It made me wonder if he was
afraid I was going to feed him some mock food that wasn’t real.  That wasn’t what
I meant.

“I was thinking
chili dogs and frozen fries,” I explained.  “I think comfort food and healthy is
a good combination.”

For some reason,
Luke looked like he was trying not to laugh.  Then he asked, “So tell me, do
you and CeCe eat healthy like this a lot?”

I told him we did. 
He smiled even bigger and nodded.

“That sounds
great.  I’ll be on the computer,” and with that he left the room.

I don’t get what
was so funny.

In the living room
(since it’s the only room where the Wi-Fi works), Luke started explaining as he
searched on the computer, “I want to see if it looks like anything unusual was
going on with Uncle Barney’s tug boat company before or after the sale, or if
there was anything strange about the people who bought it.  Let me know if you
need any help.”

When I finished
microwaving the chili and dogs, I bunned them, put them on the square plates I
found in the cabinet and scooped french fries fresh from the oven.  I announced
lunch was being served in the east wing, so Luke put the laptop aside and
walked the eight steps to the dining table.

As Luke sat down
at the small table, I asked if he’d had any luck.

“None,” he
replied.  “Of course, it might help if I had some idea as to what I’m looking
for.  Let’s just say nothing jumped out at me screaming
motive for murder
.”

I thought for a
minute while I chewed.  “Let’s go back to Eliza.  What do we know about any
business dealings she might have had?”

“That’s easy
enough – nothing.  As far as I know from what Uncle Barney said about her, she
retired almost 20 years ago.  The only reason I know that is because Uncle
Barney mentioned she’d been giving him tips on adjusting to retirement for the
last few months since he sold his business.”

“It’s kind of a
stretch to imagine her murder had any connection to something that happened 20
or more years ago.  I suppose anything’s possible, though,” I allowed.  After
pondering Eliza a little longer, I asked, “Do you think if Barney saw the two
men at Eliza’s before that day he would have recognized them?  I mean, I don’t
run in the same social circles as Barney so I wouldn’t know.  What if there are
some guys in town nicknamed Hoss and Little Joe, and Barney saw them at Eliza’s
house?”  I noticed the skeptical look that took over Luke’s face and added, “Or
maybe not.”

Luke put down the
soda he was drinking to wash down the last of his lunch.  “Look, I don’t want
to discourage any of your theories at this point,” he began.  “Especially since
I have so few of my own.  I’m also at a loss as to how Barney’s dementia was
affecting his perception.  I don’t know if he would have hallucinated people at
this stage.  As far as I know, he wasn’t hallucinating, but what if that was
something new going on with him.  Maybe there were no men at all in Eliza’s
kitchen, but maybe there were.”

Luke looked
discouraged for a minute, but when his eyes met mine, he smiled.  “Excellent
lunch,” he said as he picked up his empty plate and mine.  “I feel healthier
already,” he added as he walked to the dishwasher to load the lunch dishes. 

“Since all we have
to go on at this point is what Barney said about the men in Eliza’s house, I
vote we explore that theory,” I suggested.  “We know someone killed Eliza, so
there was definitely another person or persons in her home that day.  Barney didn’t
imagine her death and since he told you about the two men
before
anyone
knew Eliza was dead, I see no reason to assume he imagined men who weren’t
really there.  We just have to figure out what about these men said ‘Bonanza
stars’ to Barney.  Besides, he was lucid enough for Eliza to ask for his help
with . . . ,” I paused, as the realization of what I was about to say jolted me
back to Eliza’s funeral.

Luke closed the
dishwasher after adding the final dish.  When I stopped speaking to think about
what I was saying (no, multitasking might not be a quality I possess), he
turned and watched me expectantly.

“What kind of
business was Barney helping Eliza handle?” I asked, hoping this line of
thinking would produce something useful.

“Business?” Luke
asked, looking confused.

“At Eliza’s
funeral,” I clarified, “her sister-in-law said something about Barney taking
care of some family business for Eliza.  Did Barney mention anything about that
to you?”

“No,” Luke denied. 
After pausing a few seconds to think, he added, “Uncle Barney ran a successful
business for years and always seemed to make smart investments, so I guess he
could have been giving her advice on investing her money.  I’m not sure that
would be called
family business
unless maybe it was family money we’re
talking about?”

“I’m not sure,
since she didn’t elaborate,” I replied, sorry that I couldn’t be more helpful.

“Look, why waste
time speculating?  I’m going to call her and ask for details.  Do you remember
the name and hometown of Eliza’s brother?” Luke asked, heading for the laptop
as he spoke.

“Um, they came
down for the funeral from Ohio,” I began speaking very slowly, since that’s the
speed the information was coming back to me.  It’s a shame people can’t buy
more memory to upgrade like we do for our computers, because I’m pretty sure
I’d pull up information faster that way.  “Eliza’s brother’s name is Joseph
Parker, the same last name as Eliza.  I think my mother said she took back her
maiden name, never married, or something like that.  Anyway, his name is
Joseph, and his wife is — Mrs. Parker.  Sorry, I can’t remember Ms. Eliza’s sister-in-law’s
first name.”

“Don’t be sorry,
you’re doing great.  What about the city in Ohio?  Any idea?” Luke asked,
looking at me with those beautiful eyes that made me anxious to deliver the
correct answer.

“I don’t know, but
my mother does.  Let me call her and find out.”  As I reached for my purse to
retrieve my cell phone, I realized that might not be the best idea I’d ever had. 
I was supposed to be home, sick, and in bed, none of which I was.  “Um, wait a
minute,” I hesitated.  “Maybe I’ll just call CeCe and ask her to find out.”

 I called CeCe,
told her we were hoping we’d found a lead, and asked her to use any means
necessary to get the information from the sisters.  She called me back five
minutes later.

When I answered my
phone, CeCe responded, “Smithburg, Ohio.  Got to go.  Customer.  Talk to you later. 
Good luck!” and she was gone.

Luke searched the
internet for the phone number for Joseph Parker in Smithburg, Ohio.  He found
five J/Joseph Parkers, and I started calling down the list looking for Eliza’s
brother.  I didn’t get lucky until the fourth number on the list.  I gave my
name and inquired about a relative named Eliza Parker in Louisiana.

“Maggie Eastman? 
Aren’t you the one whose mother is on the city council?” the woman asked.

Bingo.

“Yes, ma’am,” I
answered.  While I couldn’t remember her name, I did recognize the voice as the
woman I’d spoken to at the funeral, Eliza’s sister-in-law.

“Sorry, dear.  I
didn’t answer your question,” the woman continued.  “Yes, this is Cheryl
Parker, Joseph’s wife.  We spoke at Eliza’s funeral.  You’ll have to forgive my
hesitation in answering.  I’m afraid I’m still a little jumpy what with the
break-in here and then finding out Eliza was murdered.  Joseph has gone fishing
and won’t be back until tomorrow, so my sister is staying with me until he
returns.  I’m just too scared to stay by myself right now.”

“You have my
sympathy.  You’ve had so much to deal with during a short period of time.  I’m
really sorry to disturb you,” I added.  “But I’m afraid something else has
happened down here.  Eliza’s friend, Barney, was found dead the morning after
her funeral.  He was murdered, also.  I wouldn’t bother you, but we need your
help.”

“Murdered?  Did
you say Barney was murdered, too?  Oh no, that’s terrible!  What kind of help do
you need from me?” she asked a little apprehensively.

“When we were
talking at the funeral, you mentioned Barney was taking care of some business
for Eliza to help her out,” I reminded her.  “Whatever Barney was helping Eliza
handle is really none of my business and normally I wouldn’t ask.  Since
they’ve both been murdered, it might answer some questions if you can tell me
what Barney was doing to help her?”  I held my breath, crossed my fingers, and
hoped she’d be willing to tell me.

“He was taking
care of
Marianne’s Garden
,” Mrs. Parker told me, for all the good
that did.  I kept my fingers crossed a little longer hoping this didn’t mean
Cheryl Parker was delusional.  We didn’t talk very long at the funeral.  That
could have been a day her meds were working exceptionally well.

“Um, I’m sorry? 
Who’s Marianne?” I inquired carefully.

“Sorry, dear,”
Mrs. Parker chuckled.  “I’ve been married to Joseph too long.  I’m assuming
everyone is aware of the painting, just like Joseph’s family thinks.  It has
been a part of their family for several generations. 
Marianne’s Garden
is a painting by Rupert Frost.”

She paused, so I
took the opportunity to ask for a clarification.  “Rupert Frost?” I repeated,
thinking out loud, since I recognized the name.  “Isn’t he a famous painter
from the late 1800's?”

“That’s the one,”
Mrs. Parker confirmed, sounding pleased that I knew who he was.  “His life
ended far too soon which made the few paintings he’d done worth a lot of money. 
Marianne’s Garden
has been in Joseph’s family for years, and
apparently it has to be passed around among the family members and hidden
away.  I’ve always thought that’s such a shame, since it’s a beautiful painting
that never gets displayed.   Eliza wrote to us that she was going to ask Barney
to keep it safe for her.  Once it came into her possession, she said having it
in her house made her nervous.  Actually, she mentioned in the last phone conversation
Joseph had with her that she was so relieved that Barney had agreed to take
care of it for her.”

“Mrs. Parker,” I
asked carefully, “why does the family keep the painting hidden?”  I didn’t want
to ask what I was wondering, but it sounded like the painting might have been
stolen by some member of Eliza’s family.

“Joseph told me
this long story about something that happened in his family years ago. 
Supposedly, that is what started the tradition, but I can’t recall the
particulars.  I just know they don’t lock it away somewhere.  They don’t want
it to be known where it is, but they do enjoy having it around to admire from
time to time,” Mrs. Parker admitted.  “Oh, I wish Joseph was here to speak to
you about this.  He knows all the details.  When he first explained how his
family handles the painting, I thought perhaps it had been stolen and that was
why they didn’t want to display it,” she chuckled.

So Joseph Parker
had explained why the painting should stay hidden and that it wasn’t stolen. 
Yeah, I definitely needed to talk to him.  “Um, does your husband have a cell
phone?” I asked, hoping that didn’t sound as pushy as I felt, but this was too
important to wait.