Lilies That Fester (15 page)
Read Lilies That Fester Online
Authors: Janis Harrison
I played the song to the end, then hit the REWIND button and turned the volume a notch higher. Leaning forward, I listened carefully. A third time, I poked the button to rewind the tape, and then played it again.
When the song came to its conclusion, I snapped off the player. Gellie had sung a portion of this song before she jumped to her death. The same song Stephanie McDuffy had played, while she sipped tea and waited for the mail.
I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. My allotted hour away from the hotel was almost gone. I started my car and pulled out on the blacktop, traveling the dark and winding road back into Branson.
What did the Kenny Loggins song represent? I'd listened to the lyrics, but they hadn't carried any particular message. Other than the word “Friend” in the title, I couldn't see how the music was important except that it was another bond between Gellie and Stephanie. But wasn't it trivial? Kind of like a weed in a flowerbed. If I yanked it out, what difference would it make to the overall picture?
I smiled. Maybe that's what I should do to this entire investigation. Yank out the nonessential and concentrate on the basic design of my garden. I'd told Effie that I needed to discover “why” the McDuffys had been murdered. If I could do that, the guilty party would slither out of hiding.
The “why” was in my peripheral vision, but it was obscured by too many irrelevant details. I needed to pull a few more “weeds.” I thought a moment. Or maybe, I needed to attack the situation from another angle. Forget the “why” and think of the “who.”
Who among the suspects would call himself “Friend”?
Robbee topped the list, but I came up with more reasons for
him not being the suspect than I did for him. While Robbee might act like a friend, his charm was blatant and superficial. Gellie would've seen through his shallow demeanor, even if Stephanie hadn't. Robbee had answered my questions about Stephanie readily enough. He'd even offered up Gellie's name when I'd persisted in wanting to know more.
him not being the suspect than I did for him. While Robbee might act like a friend, his charm was blatant and superficial. Gellie would've seen through his shallow demeanor, even if Stephanie hadn't. Robbee had answered my questions about Stephanie readily enough. He'd even offered up Gellie's name when I'd persisted in wanting to know more.
No, I was looking for someone craftier than Robbee, someone subtler, with a motive other than getting hold of Stephanie's artwork. However, before I plucked Robbee from my garden, I wanted to talk with him again.
When I entered the city limits cars were bumper to bumper, waiting to turn into the different country music theaters. Fidgeting with my rearview mirror, I watched a couple of patrol officers trying to ease the snarl of traffic, and my thoughts went to Sid. Why had he sung my praises to Lois? Did I dare ask him?
I quickly made a right, escaping the congestion, and a few blocks later pulled into a convenience store parking lot. I got out of my car and entered the brightly lit store. Hot dogs roasting on a rotisserie held my attention for only a second. Two women waited for their order. A man was buying cigarettes at the counter. All had glanced up when I'd opened the door. The man nodded to me. I gave him a preoccupied smile, looked around for the pay phone, and spotted it next to a display of Budweiser beer.
I rummaged for change in my purse, saw the container of flower preservative, and sighed. If I didn't get rid of some of this stuff, I was going to become lopsided from hauling it around.
I deposited the coins, then dialed a number that I dislike using. A conversation with Sheriff Sid Hancock, more often than not, brought on a whopping headache, or at least that was
his complaint. On my end, it wasn't my head that hurt but my ears. Sid has an annoying habit of sounding off in a very loud fashion. A telephone conversation about a topic I proposed to introduce would result in an assault on my hearing.
his complaint. On my end, it wasn't my head that hurt but my ears. Sid has an annoying habit of sounding off in a very loud fashion. A telephone conversation about a topic I proposed to introduce would result in an assault on my hearing.
“Hancock, here,” answered Sid, on the fourth ring.
“Hi. It's Bretta.” Instinctively, I moved the phone three inches from my ear.
“What the hell do you want? Are you still in Branson? Why are you calling me?”
“Has Bailey Monroe contacted you lately?” It was a shot in the dark, but it zinged in, right on target. Sid sucked in his breath, then released it in a whoosh.
“Bretta,” he began, but I interrupted him.
“What's going on, Sid? Why has a lid been put on the McDuffys' deaths?”
“Leave it alone, Bretta. This is out of your league. I sure the hell know it's out of mine. If you meddle in this, I'll be visiting you at Leavenworth.”
I blinked. Leavenworth was a federal prison. Federal? I swallowed the uncomfortable lump that rose in my throat. “If I knew what was going on, Sid, I'dâ”
I should've known it was coming, but I was too engrossed with what I was saying to move the phone away from my ear. Sid's next words burst through the receiver and reverberated in my brain.
“Damnit to hell, Bretta, you don't have to know everything. This doesn't concern youâ”
“Not directly, but indirectly I've been dragged into it. Whatever âit' might be. The McDuffys gave me an envelope to keep for them.”
“Get rid of it! Get rid of it! Give it toâ” His voice dwindled away.
“Yes?” I asked coolly. “Who should I give it to, Sid?”
“Listen, Bretta. Listen real carefully. Don't ask any questions. For once in your life, do as I say. Take that envelope to 708 Pine Tree Lane. Ask for Anthony, but that's the only inquiry you make. Got it?”
Slowly I hung up the phone. Yeah, I got it. 708 Pine Tree Lane. That was the address to the Eternal Rest Chapel. It looked like I had one more stop to make before going back to the hotel.
Five minutes later I parked my car in the same place Bailey had that morning. Shored up by a need to get to the bottom of whatever was going on, I brazenly moved to the back door of the chapel and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. I ignored the neatly printed signâPLEASE RING BEFORE ENTERINGâthat hung above the bell and walked in. I continued down a hall until I came to a door marked OFFICE.
Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped inside. My sudden appearance made the old man behind the desk sit up straight in his chair. He was dressed decorously in a dark suit and tie. His hair was gray, eyes solemn and direct.
“Oh,” he said. “I didn't hear the front doorbell.”
“I didn't come in the front door. I came around to the back.”
“I see. My name is Anthony Bardova. How may I help you?”
“I've come to see the McDuffys.”
Instantly he was alert, but his propriety never wavered. He flashed a smile, but his right hand dropped out of sight. “You have reason to believe they're here?”
“Bailey Monroe told me,” I lied.
Anthony never took his eyes off mine. “Mr. Monroe is a friend of yours?”
“We're acquainted. May I see Mabel and Vincent, please?”
He pushed away from the desk, and I thought he was going to lead the way to the McDuffys, but he merely leaned back in his chair. “I don't believe I caught your name.”
“That's because I never tossed it.” He chuckled and crossed his legs, settling in for a pleasant visit. Softly, I asked, “Are you waiting for the next of kin to claim the bodies? Their daughter, Stephanie, died last month, so whom have you contacted?”
Finally, I'd shaken Anthony's composure. He uncrossed his legs and stood up. “I think you'd better go,” he said, walking around his desk.
From the look in his eye, I knew he was about to politely escort me from the room and out of the chapel. In my present mood I wasn't willing to budge. Then like a typical female, I changed my mind. I smiled at Anthony and turned toward the door. He opened it, and we traded smiles, again.
I was facing the back door, where Anthony assumed I'd go. I played along, even took a step in that direction before pivoting on my toe and hotfooting it down the hall bound for the scenic route. I had a nice head start before the old man grasped my intention. I was randomly opening doors, peering in, and backing out when he caught up to me.
“Don't do that,” he said, putting a hand on my arm. “Please. You can'tâ”
I shrugged him away and threw open another door. Since I was in a funeral home, I'd prepared myself for any and all situations, but never what I got. Bailey and another man were seated at a table covered with papers, a chrome cell phone, and a laptop computer. Neither man appeared surprised by my sudden entry. In fact, Bailey beckoned me into the room, then
nodded to Anthony, who backed out and quietly closed the door.
nodded to Anthony, who backed out and quietly closed the door.
Bailey shook his head. “I've had several informative chats with Sheriff Hancock, but he didn't do you justice. He told me you were clever and ⦠uh ⦠tenacious. I understand you're inquiring about the McDuffys.”
At my amazed look, Bailey pointed to a speaker in the corner of the room. “When you mentioned their name, Anthony switched on the intercom. Sheriff Hancock called to tell us that you would be dropping off an envelope. You must have been in the area because Reggie and I weren't expecting you quite so soon.”
Bailey glanced at my empty hands. “I don't see that envelope. Where is it, Bretta? I want it, and I want it now.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that “People in hell want ice water,” but I swallowed that comment and lied instead. “I don't have it with me.”
Bailey traded glances with Reggie, who had shaggy brown hair and prominent eyes in a thin face. He wore grungy blue jeans, a black T-shirt with a torn pocket, and a pair of dirty sneakers.
“We could get a search warrant,” said Reggie, “but I hesitate going to that extreme when we don't know what's in the envelope. It could be nothing, but then againâ” He lifted a shoulder. “It'll have to be your call, Bailey. You're more familiar with the participants.”
They leaned across the table, speaking in hushed tones. I looked from Bailey's spit and polish to Reggie's disheveled appearance. The latter looked like a thug, while Bailey gave the impression of impeccable respectability.
“Impression” was the tip-off that set my mind to whirling.
Who was Bailey trying to impress? Then it hit me like a wallop between the eyes. I'm no prodigy, but I'm not a fool. Even if Reggie were cleaned up, I'd never give him another thought. But Bailey had worked hard to catch my attention, and he'd done it superbly.
Who was Bailey trying to impress? Then it hit me like a wallop between the eyes. I'm no prodigy, but I'm not a fool. Even if Reggie were cleaned up, I'd never give him another thought. But Bailey had worked hard to catch my attention, and he'd done it superbly.
From the beginning, he'd let me know that we had many things in common. I felt a flash of betrayal when I remembered how he'd sympathized about Carl's death. I thought I'd found someone who understood my loneliness. But why had he singled me out? What did he hope to gain from making my acquaintance?
Apparently, Bailey hadn't known about the McDuffys' envelope until Sid told him a short time ago. So that wasn't it. Bailey had begun his observance of me before he'd gotten the call about the “bodies.” If I followed this line of reasoning, whatever was going on had started before the McDuffys were murdered. Somehow I figured into this, but I wasn't sure how, unless it had to do with the florist convention.
I took a step forward. Reggie slammed the laptop shut, then shuffled the scattered papers. His actions briefly exposed a badge, lying on the table. I caught sight of a gold eagle and the wordsâ“Department of Justice.”
I ignored Reggie, concentrating on Bailey. He still had the ability to leave me giddy, but now for another reason. I'd stepped into the middle of a federal investigation. I wanted reassurance from Bailey. I wanted comfort. If he would've stood up and opened his arms, I'd have walked into his embrace without hesitation.
But this man, who sat at the table, was a different Bailey Monroe than the one who'd stroked my hand and kissed my
lips. Had the attention he'd paid me been part of the investigation?
lips. Had the attention he'd paid me been part of the investigation?
The two men were still whispering. I broke into their gabfest, directing a question at Bailey. “Why have you been hanging around me?”
“I'm not at liberty to answer
your
questions.”
your
questions.”
His abrupt tone hurt, but I kept my voice under control. “All right, then let me tell you a few facts. The McDuffys slid an envelope under the door of my room. In a note addressed to me, they requested that I keep the envelope for them until they came back for it. The note also advised that if they didn't return, I was to open the envelope and assess the contents.”
Bailey listened closely. “Which you've done?”
“Yes, but only after I made numerous attempts to contact them. Since they didn't retrieve the envelope or make an effort to find me, I've put two and two together. The couple found at the bottom of the ravine was the McDuffys.”
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