High Stakes, a Hetty Fox Short: a Hetty Fox Short Story (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 3) (3 page)

Brooks snorted. “Waste of good money, that place is.”

My eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”

“Bunch of useless women, reading stupid books. You won’t catch me blowing my money on that nonsense.”

“But the children…? Don’t you care about them?”

“They’ll be more productive if they learn something practical. Take up a trade. They should try plumbing or maybe something electrical.”

“But before that, while they’re still children. Surely you’d not deny them the joy of reading?”

“Why not?”

I switched gears, became an actress. Staggering backwards, I clamped my hand to my chest. “Oh, dear.”

Brooks’ eyebrows pushed their way up into his forehead. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry. I feel dizzy. Maybe if I could come in and sit for a minute?”

I might have felt more guilty about deceiving this guy if he’d had a better attitude toward books or even people. As far as I was concerned, if guilty, this man deserved to be exposed for his crime.

He shook his head. “You could go over to Buela Clap’s place across the street. She might take you in.”

I tipped sideways, putting myself nearly at risk of falling off of his porch. “I feel so faint,” I protested. “I don’t think I could make it that far.”

“Okay,” he said, relenting, “come in and sit in the hall for a minute.”

“Thank you. You’re terribly kind.” I wobbled forward into a large central hall and took up my seat on the small settee he pointed me toward. I glanced up at him. “Do you think I might have some water?”

I half expected him to charge me for the use of the glass. But he surprised me.

“Stay put and don’t touch anything.” Scowling, he padded off into the depths of the house.

The hall I sat in was panelled with a lovely dark wood. The floor was made of  large squares of white tile, their edges trimmed by small black bits. A lovely chandelier hung overhead. A couple of tables hugging the walls sported vases that probably cost nearly as much as my house.

I gripped my handbag and wondered how long it would be before I could leave. I wasn’t frightened so much as offended. The man had the manners of a goat. Although, I admitted to myself grudgingly, he got two points for fetching me water.

It was several minutes before he returned bearing a glass. I wondered if he’d been pokey about it in hopes he might find me gone when he returned?

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the water. I sipped, lowered the glass, and sighed. “It’s been such an awful day. I think that’s the problem.”

“Really? Mine hasn’t been that good, either.”

I ignored his comment. “I found a dead body this morning.”

“Where?”

“In the front lawn of a house on the other side of the river.”

He harrumphed. “This town isn’t what it once was. Kids have no respect for anything today. You're telling me there’s been a dead body found on a front lawn in our town?”

“Yes, the man’s name was Calvin Mazor. Did you know him?”

This man’s watery eyes stared into the distance. “Can’t say I did.”

Right then, I began to doubt that this man was the killer. He seemed too calm, too self assured.

His glance drifted back at me. “Guess that’s bad luck for you, finding a corpse. What were you doing over on that side of town, anyway?”

I explained about Hugh and his gerbil.

“A gerbil,” he snorted. “In my day, nobody ever kept gerbils. Dogs maybe. Cats sometimes. But gerbils?” He lowered his gaze to the glass in my hand. I raised it to my lips and took a second sip.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes. I think this water is just what I needed.”

Suddenly Andrew  whispered in my ear, telling me the house was clear and that we could leave.

I rose from my seat, took a third sip of water, handed the glass back. “Thank you so much. You’ve been terribly kind. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to donate to the library?”

In response that that question, he nearly slammed the door on me before I got through it.

“Well,” I said, stepping down onto the sidewalk, “isn’t he a peach?”

Andrew’s spoke while remaining hidden from view. “Maybe, but he isn’t a killer. Not only did he not have a fancy pair of tennis shoes in his closet, he didn’t have any tennis shoes at all. And there wasn’t a gun to be found anyplace, either. Believe me, I looked.”

“He could have thrown the shoes out and the gun, too. Or maybe they’re in his house, but  they’re hidden.”

“Either way, we’re not going to find them.”

***

Back home, I pulled the bowls of chopped chicken and a jar of mayo from the fridge. “What do we do next?” I muttered. I deposited the bowls and jar on the counter and grabbed a large mixing spoon.

At that moment, Blackie raced into the kitchen and pulled to an abrupt halt next to my feet. He sat,  gazed up at me, and mewed.

“Oh, you poor thing,” I said, bending over and petting him. “You must be starving.”

“Please,” Andrew folded his arms over his chest. “That cat is the most spoiled creature I’ve ever seen. Skipping a meal would do him no harm at all.”

Blackie twisted his head to glance at Andrew and pushed his ears back.

“Nonsense,” I said. I grabbed his bowl of chicken and placed it on the floor. Blackie circled my ankles twice before tearing into the gift.

Andrew snorted in disgust. “Now, could we please get back to the murder?”

“You’re just jealous, that’s all.”

“Don’t be silly.”

I snickered. “Whatever.”

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I think we should turn our attention to the neighbors.”

My brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “The neighbors? What have they done?” I mixed mayo into the chicken and then fixed myself a sandwich, adding lettuce and tomato on top of the chicken salad. I put the sandwich on a little plate, cut it in half diagonally, and carried it to the breakfast bar. Andrew followed along behind me.

“Hetty, ask yourself why the body was found there in that front yard. Why wasn’t it hidden in a forest someplace where it might not be discovered for weeks, if ever? Why was it lying there in the front yard of a house, where it was bound to be uncovered by some passing dog or in an unlikely case, by some doting grandmother on a hunt for a gerbil?”

I chewed and swallowed. “And these questions tell you what?”

“That we need to expand our investigation.”

“But Brooks might still be the killer. He hasn’t really been ruled out.” Some small part of me still wanted him to be our man.

“Right,” Andrew responded, “but don’t you see? If we want to get to the bottom of the murder quickly, our best hope now is that Brooks is innocent.”

“Ah, you’re saying If he is the killer, we’re sunk, but if he isn’t, we still have a chance at solving this case.”

“Exactly. And with your grandson’s high opinion of you on the line, I’d like to get crackin’.”

“Wait a minute, Hugh's opinion of me was over the gerbil.”

“Don’t you think he’s gonna expect you to solve the murder, too?”

I took another bite of sandwich and considered this latest rub. “So we don’t think this was a planned murder, do we?”

“What do you mean?”

“It looks more like a crime of the moment, an intense rage that overruled the killer’s better judgement. And after the shooting, the killer panicked. The only thought was to get rid of the body as quickly as possible.”

“That’s my thinking, too. And why there? Because the killer might not have been able for some reason to take the body elsewhere.”

“Why not?” I slipped the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth while Andrew wrestled with my question.

“Maybe the killer lacked the strength to get the body into a car trunk. Or maybe the car was broken down? Mazor wasn’t a large man, but he wasn’t small either. Maybe the killer didn’t have much choice over how far such a dead weight could be hauled. The police said the corpse had been dragged for a ways.” 

Andrew cast his gaze on me and smiled in satisfaction. “So that’s why I say the killer must be one of the neighbors.”

“Maybe I need to go back to Megan’s place and extend out little chat.”

Andrew nodded.

And by the time I finished fishing additional information on the neighbors from Megan, I was fairly certain I knew exactly who the killer was. The only question was, why I hadn’t realized it earlier?

When I explained my plan to Andrew, he had only one objection. “You’ll have to come with me again when I search the house. As I’ve suggested: if Oberton obtains a search warrant based on what you told him you found inside the house, the killer has to believe you could have seen the objects. Otherwise, he’ll tell his lawyer it couldn’t have happened. And that lawyer will stand a good chance of getting whatever evidence Oberton obtained tossed out of court.”

I understood his argument, and regretfully, I agreed that I had to take part again in Andrew’s search of the suspect’s house.

***

Lester Potter opened his front door immediately upon my knock. Now, dressed in khakis and a blue oxford-cloth shirt, on one level he looked distinguished and confident and smug 
—
rather like a well-aging film star. But from my perspective, he merely looked mean and deadly.

“Mrs. Langdon, right?” he asked.

“Mrs. Fox, actually,” I replied. “But you’re half right. Megan Langdon’s my daughter.”

“Charming woman.”

“Thank you.”

“ I hope you found the gerbil?”

At least he remembered one thing about me
. “Indeed, we did. Thank you for asking,” I said.

“What can I do for you now, then?”

“I’m collecting donations for the library. As the high school principal, I’m sure that must be a cause dear to your heart.”

“Oh, indeed,” he said beaming. “Won’t you come in? I’ll write you a check.”

I stepped inside the entryway, which contained a massive carved staircase leading to the second floor. Potter stepped forward, leading me into the front parlor which was stuffed full of Victorian treasures: two walnut tables, several balloon-back chairs, a lovely settee upholstered in red velvet. Along the near wall, a magnificent walnut secretary stretched skyward, its drawers all sporting small, white-porcelain knobs.

Potter crossed to the unit, pulled forth a drawer, produced a checkbook. Leaning over the writing surface, he asked to whom he should write the check. I glanced down at my fact sheet, which I held in a white-knuckled grip before me. I licked my lips. “It says to make checks out to the Friends of the Library.”

He chuckled, “Of course.”

A woman came into the room. She had blonde hair, and a broad smile, and was not very tall. “Lester, where are your manners?” She glanced at me. “Please, won’t you sit down? Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh batch. I’m Sadie Potter, by the way.” She stuck out her hand. I shook it.

“I’m Hetty Fox,” I explained. “I’m collecting donations on behalf of the library.”

“How wonderful of you.”

“Thank you, and as for the coffee, I’m fine. But, I was wondering, could I use your washroom?”

I’d decided to make my report to Oberton valid, I had to establish more than just being inside the house. I needed Potter to actually believe I’d seen whatever was turned up here. Asking to use the washroom was the only excuse I could come up with.

Sadie smiled at me. “Yes, of course. You’re more than welcome to use our facilities. Unfortunately our powder room down here is out of commission. You’ll have to go upstairs.”

Perfect.

She led me back to the entryway and pointed me up the stairway. “Second door on your left,” she chirped.

I scurried up the staircase and closed myself into the bathroom. I figured I only had to be able to claim I’d searched the house. With Andrew doing his duty, I did not actually have to do it. A fact for which I was tons grateful. Still, since I was here.... I opened the cabinet under the sink. Counted the number of toilet rolls left. Checked the cleaning supplies. Closed the door. There was a stack of towels to my right. I lifted one after another, searching between them to check for a gun. Found nothing. Opened the cabinet over the sink. Noted the kinds of prescriptions they had. Then, finally, content I’d given myself sufficient time, I flushed, washed, and departed.

Sadie was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairway. “This is the check,” she said, shoving it forward.

“Thanks for the loan of your washroom. I think all this excitement this morning caught up with me.”

She blinked. “What excitement?”

“The body. I found it.”

“Body?”

“I found a corpse hidden under an evergreen one door down from your house. You didn’t know?”

She looked stunned. “No. I drove our youngest daughter back to college yesterday. I only returned home late this morning.”