The Turtle Mound Murder (6 page)

Penny Sue emerged from the condo holding a
fly swatter. “Great shooting, girl.”

I didn’t respond, just brushed dead bugs off
of my chair and stretched out again. Yet, my head had hardly
touched the chair when the telephone rang. Ruthie stopped chanting
long enough to answer it. My realtor again.

Yes, the couple seemed very interested, but
there wasn’t any hot water. Was something wrong with the hot water
heater? Could she hire a repairman to take a look at it? Although I
suspected it was something simple like a pilot light, I said, “Go
ahead, if it will help make the sale.”

As I talked, Ruthie busied herself making
sandwiches. I hung up the telephone and snatched a half. “Um-m,
cream cheese and olive. I can’t remember when I last had one of
these.”

Ruthie took one. “Me either, but they must
be Penny Sue’s favorite. Look at the size of these containers.”
Ruthie motioned at an extra large tub of cream cheese and an
enormous jar of green olives. “What if you sell the house? Have you
thought of where you’d like to live?”

I concentrated on my sandwich. I’d been so
caught up in the mechanics of now, of details, of what had to be
done, that I hadn’t given any thought to the future. “I don’t
know.”

“There are some adorable apartments in
Vinings. That’s a nice, eclectic area. Lots of cute shops, great
restaurants.”

I picked the crust off my sandwich. “I like
Vinings, but I’m not sure I want to stay in Atlanta. There’s
nothing to hold me there.”

Ruthie looked stricken. “What about the
kids?”

“Ann’s going to London in January, and Zack,
Jr. seems happy in Vail. His old girl friend just moved out there
to be with him. The kids went to Vanderbilt, so most of their
friends are in Tennessee. Neither of them are particularly thrilled
with their father. There’s no need for me to stay in Atlanta for
their sake.”

“What about Penny Sue and me? We DAFFODILS
have to stick together.”

I patted her hand soothingly. “I’d always
come back to visit.”

“I would hope so,” she said, looking
sad.

“For the first time I can do whatever I
want. Until now, my life has been one big obligation. School, then
marriage, the kids, even the divorce. There were certain steps you
had to follow, certain things you had to do; shoot, even certain
stages of grieving. Duty has always determined my life. But, I have
no responsibilities at this moment. It’s a funny feeling.”

Ruthie poured some tea and handed me the
plate of sandwiches. I took one and started peeling the crust off
again.

“What about you?” I asked. “Haven’t you ever
thought of moving, doing something else?”

“Sure,” she said slowly. “Jo Ruth’s been
accepted to med school at Chapel Hill. I’d move up there if it
weren’t for Poppa; he’s my responsibility.”

“You’re here.” I swept my arm in a wide
arc.

“Oh, I have lots of freedom. Mr. Wong and
the housekeeper take care of Poppa’s physical needs; I provide the
emotional support. I owe him. After all, Poppa was there for me
when I got divorced; it’s my turn now.”

I nodded. “An obligation. I’d feel exactly
the same way.”

“What are y’all up to? You look awfully
serious.” Penny Sue stood in the doorway, peering across the top of
her Chanel sunglasses.

I held up the plate of sandwiches. “Having a
little snack. Cream cheese and olive.”

“Just what I need.” Penny Sue perched on a
stool at the counter and took a sandwich. “Hand me the pepper,
please.” She doused the sandwich liberally and took a bite. “Hm-m.
Onion, it needs onion.” She found a Vidalia in the refrigerator and
cut a thick slice. “Delicious,” she muttered between bites.

Ruthie watched with distaste. “Are you sure
there’s nothing wrong with your hormones?”

“I’ve taken care of that. I’m doing hormone
replacement therapy.” Penny Sue finished her half and took another.
“You know what would be good on this? Jalapeño pepper jelly. Would
you fetch it from the frig, Ruthie?”

Ruthie handed her the jar. “Maybe you need
to cut back on the estrogen.”

Penny Sue slathered a thick layer of jelly
on the bread and tasted it. “Mmm-m. What, ruin all this fun? Not a
chance.”

I didn’t hear from the realtor again that
afternoon. We never left the deck, so I couldn’t have missed the
call. Truth be told, I was relieved. When the house sold, I’d have
to make some decisions, and fast.

Ruthie brought out her laptop computer and
cast my astrology chart. “You have Mars in Libra, so you hate
conflict and have a hard time making up your mind.”

No kidding. Tell me something I don’t know.
“Can you see anything about a job?”

“Well, your twelfth house shows a need to
search for truth and wisdom. You’d probably be good at some kind of
investigation.”

Penny Sue sat up. “Isn’t that what you did
after graduation?”

“I worked for an accounting firm doing
audits. I guess that was investigation of sorts.”

“Ever thought of taking it up again?” Penny
Sue asked, munching on her sandwich.

“It’s terribly demanding. Long hours, lots
of travel, I’m not sure I could keep up.”

“There must be another way to use your
expertise,” Ruthie said.

I rubbed my neck. I was starting to get a
headache. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Ruthie smiled. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s go
to Cassadaga and get a reading—ask the spirits for guidance.”

“What’s Cassadaga?” I asked.

“A small village of mediums and psychics.
It’s not far. Momma used to come here every year to get a reading.
Let’s go, it’ll be fun.”

I wasn’t particularly anxious to go, since I
doubted the spirits did job placement. But, Ruthie looked like an
exuberant kid. Mommy, Mommy let’s go to the park, or the fair, or
whatever. How could I say no? “Okay, we’ll go tomorrow.”

* * *

We were dressing for dinner when the shit
hit the fan.

There was a loud knock at the front door. It
was Woody Woodhead, the local prosecutor, and a detective. Could
they have a word with us about the body on the beach? Stone-faced
and silent, the men sat in the living room while we assembled. As
usual, Penny Sue was the last to arrive, her appearance heralded by
a wave of Joy perfume which preceded her by a full minute.

“Good evening,” Penny Sue said
breathlessly.

“Evening, ladies.” The detective slipped
several eight-by-ten glossy photographs from a manila envelop and
handed them to Penny Sue.

Her mouth dropped open as her hand flew to
her chest. “Magod, it’s Rick.” She handed the pictures to me and
covered her eyes.

Woody leaned back in the chair and steepled
his fingers in front of his chest. “That answers our first
question.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“He was shot with a small caliber weapon, a
.38. We figure he’d been dead for about six hours when you found
him.”

Ruthie glanced at the photos, then looked
away. “Why? Who would do such a thing?”

Woody took the pictures. “Good question.
Where’s your gun, Penny Sue?”

She drew back with indignation. “Surely, you
don’t think I had anything to do with that.”

“I’m not making an accusation. I merely want
to know where your gun is. Would you get it, please?”

Penny Sue went to the bedroom and returned
with her purse. Glaring defiantly, she retrieved her revolver.

“May I see it?”

She handed Woody the gun and snapped her
purse shut. He gave the weapon a cursory examination, then handed
it to the detective who placed it in a plastic evidence bag. “You
don’t mind if we take this in for a few tests, do you?”

“Well, no—”

I broke in. “You won’t find anything. Penny
Sue was with us all night. We went to dinner, then came back here
and went to bed. All of us. We can vouch for her.”

“In which case we’ll find nothing,” Woody
replied. He nodded to the detective and stood. “Your neighbor saw a
woman on your deck at about one o’clock this morning. The woman was
wearing a bright red robe.”

Red robe? Ruthie and I gaped at Penny
Sue.

“I stepped out to smoke a cigarette. I
couldn’t sleep.”

“I thought you’d quit smoking,” Ruthie said,
surprised. “I gave you that worry stone to rub when you got the
urge.”

Penny Sue shrugged. “I did quit, sorta. I
sneak one now and then. Everybody makes such a big deal about
smoking, I feel like a criminal. I was outside for all of five
minutes.”

Woody snorted, definitely unimpressed. “We
appreciate your cooperation, ladies. We’ll be in touch. Please
don’t leave town.”

Don’t leave town. The third time in two
days.

* * *

When I got
up the next morning, Penny
Sue was out on the deck smoking a cigarette in her red silk robe
with an Oriental dragon embroidered on the back. I checked the
time. Eight o’clock. Penny Sue was the world’s latest sleeper. The
fact that she was up at such an ungodly hour told me Penny Sue was
a lot more worried than she’d let on. I poured a cup of coffee and
went out to join her.

“Out of the closet?” I said, nodding at the
cigarette.

Penny Sue blew a smoke ring. “This is my
third. I want to make sure those nosy neighbors see me out here
smoking. I hope they’re watching. The nerve of them, pointing the
finger at me.” She panned the two-story buildings behind our condo.
“I wish I knew which one it was. I’d give them a piece of my
mind.”

“That won’t solve anything and will make
matters worse.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay cool.”

I was worried. None of this would have
happened if Penny Sue hadn’t waved her gun around. What in the
world possessed her to do it? I used to describe her as
high-strung, even flighty; but her behavior lately had been down
right erratic. Maybe it was a hormone problem. Perimenopause: that
phase where a woman’s hormones started the downhill slide. PMS run
wild, and it could last for as long as ten years. The thought made
me shudder.

“I know it’s ridiculous. You know it’s
ridiculous. But the neighbors, whoever they are, don’t know. As far
as they’re concerned, you could be a mass murderer.”

Penny Sue stared at the building behind us
where the balconies overlook the parking lot. “I’ll bet it was one
of them. Someone up there called the police about the Rick row, we
know that. Nosy old bags, they’re probably spying on us at this
minute.” She snuffed out the cigarette angrily.

I put myself in the line of view between
Penny Sue and the building. I wasn’t taking any chances. Under
normal circumstances, Penny Sue was far too refined for angry
outbursts, or God-forbid, rude gestures; but, these weren’t typical
times. “The best thing we can do is be ourselves; let them see what
nice, normal people we are.”

Penny Sue tilted her head back and looked
down her nose. “Normal? As in average? Pu-leeze, I am not
normal.”

Brother, that was the truth. “Bad choice of
words,” I added quickly. “How about not dangerous? Not nutty? Not a
homicidal maniac?”

“Better.” She pulled her robe up around her
neck and tightened the belt. “You’re right, though. I didn’t kill
Rick, and I’m not going to let Woody intimidate me. He’ll find out
soon enough when they test the gun. He’s jerking me around because
I dumped him back in college. He’s on a power trip now and lording
it over me.”

She lit another cigarette. That made what,
four or five? To say she’d fallen off the no-smoking-wagon was an
understatement. She hadn’t fallen, she’d barreled over the
cliff.

“Little twerp,” she went on. “I won’t give
Woody the satisfaction of seeing me sweat. I absolutely won’t allow
that nerd to ruin our vacation. This is your time, Leigh. Your
respite from worldly cares.”

It certainly had taken my mind off my
troubles, though I wasn’t sure I’d call it a respite. Debacle
seemed more fitting.

Penny Sue folded her arms, eyes narrowed,
thinking. “So, the neighbors don’t know me? Don’t know what a nice
person I am?” She took a long drag of the cigarette. “Maybe we
should throw a little party. A mixer for the neighborhood, wouldn’t
that be nice? Apologize for causing a stir. Let them see how nice I
really am.” The last comment was uttered through gritted teeth, as
if she wanted to bite their heads off. She took another pull on her
cigarette, then grinned mischievously. “I think I’ll invite
Lyndon.”

“Who?” Penny Sue’d always had a grasshopper
mind, but that switch was too fast for me.

“Lyndon Fulbright. The good looking
yachtsman at The Riverview.”

I stared at her, stunned. Under suspicion
for murder, yet concerned about getting a date. I’d tossed and
turned half the night worrying about her, and she was planning a
party. “You beat all, you know that.”

“What?”

“This isn’t a game, Penny Sue; we’re talking
about a murder. Woody could make your life miserable. I think we
should call your father.”

She stomped her foot. “We are not calling
Daddy. I’m not guilty, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Come on, innocent people get convicted
every day, especially if they don’t have good legal advice.” It was
hard to believe that I was suggesting that anyone see a lawyer.
After my experience with Zack and PH&S, I put lawyers at the
bottom of the human hierarchy, right next to rapists, child
molesters and murderers. Murderers. Hm-m, it takes one to know one,
we used to say as kids. “You absolutely need to consult a
lawyer.”

“I can handle it. I’m not going to run to
Daddy like a child. ‘You’re a big girl, Penny Sue. Now act like
one.’ That’s what Daddy said about the Rick mess. Anyway, it would
embarrass him, again, in front of his important friends. I’m simply
not going to do it. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Ah, the lecture from Daddy must have been
tougher than she’d let on. Still, I hoped she wasn’t being
foolhardy. Ignorance might be bliss for the Judge; I just hoped it
didn’t have the opposite effect on Penny Sue.