Coastal Cottage Calamity (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 2) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sydney Alton-Gibbons
was stunning. Her good looks were the kind that made men – and women – stop and
gawk. When she crossed the lawn headed to the repast tent, it was liked she
walked in slow motion. Just like in the movies. Her mass of red, thick hair
(not blonde, Oliver’s color of choice so we all thought) tumbled over her
shoulder in soft, flowing curls and bounced when she walked. It framed a face
that had soft features and looked as if it had been kissed by the sun, (said
sun being exceptionally affectionate to the light freckles that were sparsely
sprinkled across her nose and under her eyes). Her eyelashes were long enough
to catch snowflakes, her nose was petit and upturned.

But all beauty
aside, she was the ultimate woman scorned.

Probably the best
reason to commit murder.

But no one could
convince me that she was capable of it. No way. No how. Not ever. I watched in
awe, with a smile on my face, just like everyone else when she made her
entrance. In a “Sydney Trance” until that is, I was interrupted by Miss Vivee.

 “I am going to
have to confront Renmar,” Miss Vivee was saying, patting my sore leg.

Couldn’t she find
a different spot?

“None of those
nitwits could have committed a murder so complicated. Hell, I should have known
it when Mary Beth was going to try and stab somebody with a butter knife. Now
if that don’t beat stupid.”

“Well you can’t
confront her now,” I said. “The pastor is going to bless the food and she’s got
a house full of company.” I pointed around the backyard.

“Do you think it’s
important enough for Renmar to kill Oliver over it?”

“I don’t know,
Miss Vivee.” I looked over at Renmar. She seemed to have a Sydney Crush, too.
She held her by her arm and was taking her around, introducing her to everyone.
“It’s important to me because it’s science.”

“Well it’s
important to Renmar because it’s part of her blue ribbon prize every year,”
Miss Vivee said.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

“This is a very
nice greenhouse, Miss Vivee.” Tom Bowlen stood at the door. “Mind if I come
in?”

Miss Vivee had grown
tired of the crowd in the backyard and pulled me away to hide out with her in
her greenhouse until she could get the opportunity to speak with Renmar. But
this guy, I know she considered to be an intruder. Miss Vivee just looked at
him. I’d never known anyone but me to visit her greenhouse and she did not seem
to like it.

“Come on in,” I
said. Didn’t want to be rude to Bay’s colleague.

“Did you study
horticulture?” he asked.

“I’m a Voodoo
herbalist.”

“Excuse me?” he
said a look of surprise on his face.

“I practice
Voodoo,” she said. “Most people that come to my greenhouse don’t usually
leave.”

“Miss Vivee,” I
whispered. “Be nice.”

“That’s a joke,
right?” He laughed. “You’re funny.”

“Logan, you seen
my snake gun?” she said, loud enough for him to hear.

“So, Tom,” I said
ignoring Miss Vivee. “Did you find out anything at the memorial service?”

“Find out
anything?”

“Like who killed
Oliver.”

“Why would you say
he was killed? No one’s made that determination. At least officially.” He
looked at me suspiciously. “Did Agent Colquett tell you that?”

“If he says one
word about Bay,” Miss Vivee leaned into me and spoke low, “I will shoot him.”

“No, you’re not,”
I said.

She raised an
eyebrow as if to say, “You don’t really know me, do you?”

“How do you keep
bugs from eating up your plants?” he asked not even noticing that she was
pleased with his presence.

“Same way as
everyone else,” Miss Vivee said. “I use a pesticide.”

“I only use
organic pesticides,” he said, apparently proud of himself. “I have a small
garden and sunroom,” he said and nodded. “Organic is ‘green.’” He made air
quotation marks. “Helps the environment. An eco-friendly pest control agent. I
even make my own.”

“Buy mine down at
Hadley’s,” Miss Vivee said. “They stock everything I need.”

Except for ski-masks
for when you get a penchant for breaking the barricades around houses on
lockdown.

“Wow,” he seemed
to be excited as he pointed to a plant. “You have nightshade. Very beautiful.
But very deadly.”

That made Miss
Vivee look up for the first time. She may not like intruders, but she liked
someone who knew about the same things she did.

“
Atropa
Belladonna
. The berries are the most poisonous,” she said and smiled.

Was that a wicked
smile?
I frowned up my brow.

“But, used by
women in a way that wasn’t so bad,” he said.

“Ahh,” Miss Vivee
said. “Do you think a woman’s eyes alluring who has used it?”

He laughed. “I’m
not sure how a woman using it would look. Never seen one,” he said. “And I’m
married. I wouldn’t let my wife anywhere near the stuff. She’s beautiful just
the way she is. Brown hair, violet eyes.” He laughed again. “I wouldn’t ever
let her near anything that would hurt her.” He pointed to the plant. “I’d
protect her with my life.”

“Do tell,” Miss
Vivee seemed to be having fun with the conversation. “Well belladonna has other
uses,” Miss Vivee said and pointed to the plant with her trowel. “Medicinal. It
contains atropine.”

“Oh really?” he
said. “I didn’t know that.” He cocked his head to the side. “Not even sure I
know what that is. Has to do with something with the body I think?” He
continued talking without waiting for an answer. “I’m more of a history buff.”

“I say.”

“Yeah, so asked me
about its famous uses in history and I can rattle that off. That’s how I know
women used to put it in their eyes.”

“Help me with
this, Logan,” Miss Vivee said. She wanted me to move the potted plant she’d
been working on.

“Let me do it,” he
said and came over to her. “Where do you want it?”

“Right there.” She
pointed to a nearby table. “My, what big strong hands you have.” She smiled at
him. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,”
he said and smiled. “But I better go now, Agent Colquett – uhm, Bay put our
names on the clean-up committee.”

“Aww, too bad,” I
said and smiled.

“I know,” he
nodded. “Trash detail for me,” he said as he left.

“Think we should
go and help?” I asked and pointed out the door.

“No,” Miss Vivee
said. “Stick with me and you’ll get to skip right over a lot of the mundane
parts of life.”

Life around Miss
Vivee certainly wasn’t dull, that’s for sure.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ron Anderson
seemed in a sour mood. Even before he found out if he’d owned all of Yasamee or
not.  

It was the reading
of Oliver Gibbons’ Last Will and Testament. Taking place the day after the
memorial service, thanks to Ron Anderson’s directional prowess, he’d
orchestrated that everything in short order.

At the lawyers
office located on the second floor of a building in town square, Miss Vivee,
Renmar, Brie, Hazel and I, along with the Andersons gathered in the small
office.

Sydney floated in
right after us. Her makeup made her look youthful – the pink gloss on her lips,
the barely there blue on her eyelids. She smelled like fresh flowers. She wore
a floppy hat, similar to the one she had on at the funeral – only in pink. Her
crocheted gloves were the same shade, with purse and two-inch pumps to match.
Her dress was white, adorned with a flowing pink and white scarf. Other than an
occasional dab at her eyes, she didn’t look like she was in mourning at all.

I don’t know why I
had to come. Miss Vivee wouldn’t ride with anyone else. Told me I had to take
her. I’d given up long ago trying to do something other than what she wanted me
to do.

The “cousins” were
there before anyone else. Charlie smiled surreptitiously at us, head down. Ron
grunted a few times, don’t think it was him acknowledging us because he never
spoke. I was beginning to think that sounds just escaped involuntarily from his
body.

The lawyer knew
everyone but the cousins, including Sydney. He hugged her and told her he was
sorry for her loss.

That started Miss
Vivee to hitting me again. My thigh was still sore from the memorial service.

“This won’t take
long,” the lawyer said looking over his glasses at us. “If you have any
questions, please wait until I’m finished,” he directed then looking at Ron, he
said, “And there are not to be any outbursts.”

Ron grunted again.
Still no words came out.

“I, Oliver
Gibbons, residing in Yasamee, Georgia and being of sound body and mind do hereby
publish and declare the foregoing as my last will and testament and revoke any
previous wills or codicils heretofore made by me.

“I devise and
bequest the following: To my good friend and confidant, Renmar Colquett, I
leave all my interest in Stalling Island that I may have at the time of my
death and the sum of one hundred thousand dollars from my estate.

“To my cousin
Hazel Cobb, I leave fifty-thousand dollars.

“To Brie and
Vivienne Pennywell, I leave each fifty-thousand dollars.

“And to my beloved
wife, Sydney Allston-Gibbons, I leave the rest and my remainder of my estate of
whatsoever kind and character and wheresoever situated.

He looked up and
smiled. “That’s it. Short and simple, huh?”

“What do you mean
that’s it?” Ron growled. “What about Charlotte?”

The lawyer looked
back down at the will on his desk, picked it and turned it over in an
exaggerated gesture. “No Charlotte on here.”

“What about his
house?” Ron asked.

The lawyer pointed
to Sydney. “She gets it and everything that these other good folks didn’t get.”

“How much is
that?” he barked.

“Well, it’s hard
to determine right at this moment, but with cash, his stocks, and the land here
in Yasamee, I’d say somewhere between ten to fifteen million.”

Ron gasped so loud
I thought he suck up all the air in the room. He glared at Sydney with a “You
won’t get a thing” look in his eye. Then popped up and left the room forgetting
all about Charlie. Slamming the door on his exit.

We single-filed
out of the room and found Bay waiting in the hallway.

I hadn’t seen him
since the Memorial service. He was all suited down, looking so handsome. I
scooted up next to him and wrapped my pinky around his on the sly. No PDAs in
the lawyer’s office or, after getting caught in the closet, in front of Miss
Vivee. He glanced at me he gave me a smile and a wink.

“We just finished
searching the house,” he made a general announcement. “I’m driving back up to
Atlanta with the evidence so I can’t stay here too long. I’ve got Tom in the
car babysitting it. I don’t want any problems with chain of custody.”

“You searched the
house?” Sydney asked.

“Had to,” Bay said
and looked from his grandmother to his mother. “Oliver’s death has been
classified as a homicide.” He licked his lips, his face evident that he didn’t
like the report he was giving. “But I just wanted to let everyone know about
the house. I removed the crime scene tap.”

“Sydney got the
house,” Renmar said and smiled at her.

“”Beachfront property.
Any girl’s dream,” Sydney said. “But without anyone to spend it with . . .” her
voice trailed off.

Could she still be
in love with Oliver? After all of his infidelity?

“Okay,” Bay said
looking at Sydney. “Maybe now we’ll get to see more of you.” He smiled at her.
“Anyway. You can go in it now. Anytime you want.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sirens blazing, we
heard them from the dining room, heading somewhere close to the house. A few
minutes later the phone rang.

My stomach felt
like something bad was getting ready to happen.

We were sitting in
the kitchen talking, reminiscing about Oliver, and Renmar gushing over Sydney. It
was soon after Koryn had said her good-byes. She was driving up to Augusta to
catch a plane to Nevada. She had rented the car for the short drive and
wouldn’t allow me to take her. She was just ready to go it seemed and just
couldn’t wait.

Sydney and Renmar had
become fast friends. At the repast, and then Renmar had invited Sydney to stay
at the Maypop until she was ready to go back to Savannah. And the whole time
after the service, they had been inseparable.

Brie came into the
kitchen. She had a look of dread on her face. “There’s an ambulance and the
Sheriff’s car over at Oliver’s beach house.”

“What in the
world?” Miss Vivee said.

“Sydney,” Renmar
said the one word and popped up from her seat.

“What happened?” I
asked.

Brie hunched her
shoulders. “I don’t know. Trouble over there is all I got.”

“I’m going over
there,” Renmar said.

“I’m going, too,”
Miss Vivee said.

“No. Mother. You
stay here,” Renmar said. “It’s late and I don’t know what’s going on over
there. I don’t want to have to worry about you, too.”

Miss Vivee gave me
a look. I knew just what the look meant.  I wasn’t sure if I liked that I was
close enough with her – a ninety year old – that I could read her like a BFF.

I shook my head.
“No.” My eyes said, “I’m not doing it.” She scrunched up her eyes saying, “Do
it!” And I did the same but my eyes defiantly replied, “Fine.”

“Renmar,” I said
out loud. “I’ll ride with you.” I saw Miss Vivee smile as I said what she
wanted me to. She only wanted me to go to find out what happened. She was such
a busybody.  And not caring that she may be sending me out with a murderer.

“It’s late,” I
continued and looked at Renmar. “And like you said you don’t know what’s going
on over there. You shouldn’t go by yourself.”

“Thank you,
Logan,” Renmar said. “Let me get a sweater first.”

“Okay,” I said.
“I’ll get my car. I can drive.”

I hadn’t ever been
anywhere alone with Renmar and while now I wasn’t really frightened to be with
her, it did feel kind of weird. From what I knew about Renmar, I decided,
wasn’t enough to make a conclusion with any certainty on whether she could kill
Oliver. But she had made Miss Vivee’s list of suspects. Twice. And Miss Vivee
was pretty astute.