Murder on the Bucket List (8 page)

“About what?”

“About it being a good decision to let
Good Morning America
in.”

“It's a morning show. How bad can it be?”

“Once you let the genie out of the bottle …”

“You are such a naysayer, Francine.”

Francine sighed audibly as they headed down the sidewalk toward their cars.

ten

When Francine knocked on
Charlotte's door that night for the Summer Ridge Bridge Club meeting, she was greeted by an eye checking her out through the peephole. Francine understood. It had been a difficult afternoon. If she wasn't so tired, she'd have found it difficult to believe not twenty-four hours had passed since they found the dead body.

The door creaked open, and Charlotte hustled Francine in, shutting the door behind her. “Can you believe the promos for our
Good Morning America
appearance were running by the evening news?” Charlotte said. “It's been nonstop madness since.”

“I wouldn't answer the phone after the first one ran.”

Charlotte beckoned her into the family room, slid back a red paisley curtain panel, and peered out. “I guess so. I must've left a hundred messages for you.”

“Didn't you get the phone call from Jud not to say anything? It wasn't long after that the phone started ringing off the hook. I didn't recognize the numbers, so I stopped checking to see who was calling.”

“It wasn't just the phone calls that bothered me. It was the reporters who camped outside my house. At least they're gone now.” She straightened the curtain.

Charlotte's house was one of the smaller ones in the subdivision, a three-bedroom ranch with a small family room to the right off the front hall, the kitchen and dining room straight ahead, and a screened-in porch off the back past the dining room. She led Francine to the right toward the bedrooms.

“Joy says Darla Baggesen was out at her house telling the reporters it was against the homeowners' agreement to park on both sides of the street and narrow traffic to one lane,” Francine said. “They didn't pay much attention, but they did try to interview her. I'm guessing what she told them won't make it past the censors.”

Charlotte had long ago transformed the third bedroom of her home into a library. Well-organized shelves full of alphabetized books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. They were all mysteries or thrillers.

But the room was not tidy. A dozen partially-read books lay open, scattered throughout the room. Sticky notes protruded from their pages. Francine had to move one off the padded rocking chair she usually sat in.

Charlotte pulled a thin white cardigan around her. “Do you want any brandy? I feel like I need a nip of it.”

Francine debated whether it was the coolness of the air conditioned room or the bizarre day that fueled the brandy comment. She wasn't crazy about brandy—it burned all the way down her throat. But she knew Charlotte wouldn't drink alone. If she took a tiny bit for herself she could always knock it back if the others showed up early.
She was fifteen minutes ahead of the agreed-upon eight o'clock meeting. “I'll pour us each a little. You just have a seat.”

She went to the liquor cabinet, took out a couple of crystal aperitif glasses, and poured a tiny amount into hers, then a bit more in Charlotte's, while her friend eased herself into her favorite reading chair, an apricot-colored recliner. It was getting threadbare but was still the most comfortable chair in the house. Charlotte thought the apricot added a splash of color against the dark blue flowered wallpaper. Francine would have ditched the wallpaper two decades ago.

She distributed the brandy glasses and took a seat in the rocker. In spite of all that had happened that day, she relaxed. Just being in a familiar place with a friend felt good. “Are you really going to go through with it?”

“With what?”

“The
Good Morning America
interview tomorrow. You know how nervous you get when someone shoves a microphone in front of you.”

“Pshaw.” Charlotte took a swallow of the brandy. “Joy's going to do all the talking, which is good because she can really talk. Besides, I'm better than I used to be about stuff like that.”

Francine doubted the latter, but she did hope that Joy would do the talking. “Still, don't overburden your digestive system in the morning. Okay?”

Charlotte didn't answer the question but picked up an open notebook and pen sitting on top of an open mystery book. “I've been looking at this Friederich Guttmann murder from different angles, trying to figure out who could have wanted him dead. Larry is hardly the best candidate.”

Francine touched the glass to her lips and pretended to sip. “I agree about Larry. We've known them since they moved in a couple decades ago. Seems like we'd have noticed something odd about him if he were the killer type.”

“I've been looking to draw a parallel with one of the cozy mysteries I read sometimes. They almost always have a killer you'd never suspect. Although, I can usually spot them from the beginning now.”

“The papers seem to favor Larry. Either him or Jake Maehler.”

“Jake Maehler is more likely in my opinion. Here's a guy who became a NASCAR driver, gets branded a loser because he can't finish in the top ten anywhere, and returns to Brownsburg. His back is against the wall. He's desperate. And he had a dustup with Friederich two weeks ago.”

Francine had done a little research that afternoon, so she knew about it. The sports section of the
Hendricks County Flyer
had covered it extensively at the time. Jake had wrecked at the Night Before the 500 race in May and blamed Friederich's work. “But they patched things up. They announced they were going to work together at SpeedFest.”

“You realize that announcement was just Thursday? Friederich disappeared on Saturday. It might have been a ruse.”

Francine took her first sip, a tiny one. “Or someone didn't like their decision to keep working together.”

“I do like the way you think. That's another good angle. You've hardly touched your brandy. Don't you like it?”

The doorbell rang. Francine looked at the glass. The others were probably here, and she didn't like them seeing her drink outside of dinner. She tilted her head and drank it down. It burned, making her cough. “I'll get the door,” she choked out. “I assume we're going to meet in here.”

“Thanks, Francine. It saves me from having to get up and come back.”

She took her aperitif glass and detoured to the kitchen to set it in the sink before she answered the door. Mary Ruth, Joy, and Alice were on the doorstep together.

“Why is the door locked?” Mary Ruth said, breathing heavily. “I rushed up the sidewalk thinking I was late and tried to get in, but the door wouldn't open.”

“You had a catering event today, didn't you?” Francine answered. “The rest of us have been hounded by reporters all afternoon. Jonathan and I hid upstairs in his office, but they still didn't leave until Jud showed up and told them to disperse.”

“It was awful,” Alice said.

“It was wonderful,” said Joy. She looked at Alice. “Sorry. I know it was awful for you.”

Francine wondered how Alice had learned of the meeting. “I didn't think you'd be coming,” she said. “You have a lot to deal with.”

“All the more reason to be here. Plus, I need to talk to all of you.”

Mary Ruth handed Francine a small square cake. “Here, this is my famous flourless chocolate cake. I made an extra one for the event today but didn't need it.” She stepped into the house, flapping her arms and trying to get a breeze going under her pink
Mary Ruth's Catering
t-shirt.

Joy tapped Mary Ruth on the shoulder. “You're available tomorrow morning, aren't you?
Good Morning America
is going to interview all of us at Alice's pool near the scene of the crime.”

Mary Ruth's stared in fear. “I don't think so!”

“It won't be so bad,” Joy said, taking her by the arm. “Alice can't be on because of the lawyer, but the rest of us will be there. It's not so much about the murder as it is about the skinny-dipping and our Sixty Lists.”

“That's supposed to make me feel better?”

The two walked back to the library, Joy speaking soothingly. She must have been effective because by the time Francine took the cake to kitchen and got back to the library, Mary Ruth had agreed to participate.

The five women sat in a circle, the latecomers having unpacked folding chairs from the library closet. Joy, as president of the group, tried several times to start the meeting but everyone kept talking. Just as she got the group quiet, Alice interrupted.

“I'm sorry, but I've got something I've got to get off my chest and if I don't do it right now I think I might burst.” They all leaned in a little closer. “Larry hasn't been in Las Vegas, like he said. He came back on Saturday, and he's been staying in a hotel on the east side of Indianapolis. The police located him an hour ago. He's down at the police station with his lawyer.” She burst into tears.

eleven

The room was deathly
quiet but for Alice's sobs.

Finally Joy spoke up. “You … didn't know this?”

Alice tried to talk but the tears kept flowing. She shook her head.

The women acted on reflex. Joy went to comfort Alice. Charlotte went to get her a glass of water. Mary Ruth went to get some tissues. Francine began massaging Alice's shoulders.

“How did you find out?” Francine asked.

She took a minute to pull herself together. “He called me from the police station. Told me not to come down. Whispered a few excuses. Said he'd try to explain it later.”

“I bet that middle part really hurt,” Charlotte said. She set the glass next to Alice. “Why would he not want you to come down?”

The remark made her start her crying again. Francine glared at Charlotte while they waited for Alice to become calm. Mary Ruth came back, yanked out a couple of tissues, and handed them to Alice, who wiped her eyes. “I don't know. Would the police even let me see him?”

“Did he say he was arrested?” Charlotte wanted to know. “If he wasn't arrested, he doesn't have to stay for questioning. He can just walk away.”

“He didn't say.”

Francine tried to mentally step back from the situation so she could analyze it. From what little she knew about the law, Charlotte was right. If Larry was only being questioned, he didn't have to answer. He could just walk away. Larry had his lawyer there, though. What did that mean? She hoped it meant he was getting good advice.

Charlotte was still talking. “I know it looks really bad, Alice, but I don't think you should leap to conclusions. You haven't heard his side of it.” It was surprisingly sympathetic of her to make the point, and it would have stayed that way had she stopped. “Of course, the fact that Larry came back the day Friederich disappeared makes me want to connect the dots. But it doesn't have to be that. He could just be an accessory to the crime.”

To which Alice resumed crying.

Francine steered Charlotte out of the library.

“I know what you're going to say,” Charlotte said when they were out in the hall, “but it's true. It would be better if he was guilty of something other than murder.”

“Accessory isn't a lot better.”

“Well, he's guilty of something. You don't do stuff like that unless you have something to hide.”

“While I agree with that, we don't need to go announcing it in front of Alice. We're her friends. We're supposed to lift her up, give her hope.”

“She knows what we're all thinking.”

“Not unless she reads minds.”

Joy came out into the hall. She shut the door to the library behind her. “Thanks for nothing, Charlotte. Alice is now talking about backing out of the
GMA
interview tomorrow.”

“How can
she
back out?
She's
not going to be on camera.”

“She's talking about not letting anyone onto her property tomorrow. We're supposed to film by the pool.”

Francine wanted to scream. Was no one thinking about poor Alice?

“We could film in front of the police station,” Charlotte suggested. Then she thought a moment. “No, that might cause Jud to go crazy on us. What if we set up in front of Matthew's Funeral Home? Do we know where the funeral's going to be?”

Joy paced in the hall. “Might work. Or we could do it at a church. Did Friederich go to church? Who would know that?”

The door to the library opened and Mary Ruth's head popped out. “With no help from you, I've managed to calm Alice down. She wants to talk to us all together.” She nodded her head in Alice's direction.

They filed back into the room. Charlotte regained the apricot chair, but the rest stood. Tissues littered the floor around Alice. She blew her nose with a fresh one.

“Charlotte's comment reminds me that I'm not necessarily telling you the whole truth as I know it,” Alice began. “At first, I didn't want to tell you this because it made Larry look like a suspect. Now I guess that doesn't matter.”

“What didn't you want to tell us?” Charlotte asked, surreptitiously retrieving her notebook and pen from the end table.

“Six months ago Larry threatened to throw Friederich out of the garage space.”

“Why? And what made him not follow through?”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Friederich was having money problems. At least that's Larry's take. At the time he was way behind on the rent. Larry told me he was thinking about taking Friederich to small claims court, maybe try to garnish his wages.”

“That would take a court order,” Charlotte agreed, making notes.

Alice shrugged. “I don't know why Larry put up with it. He should have just dumped him and written off the rent. But with the economy being bad, Larry said he doubted he could get another tenant, and he hoped to work it out with Friederich. Really, it's one of our lesser properties. I don't think Larry paid much attention to it.”

“So he never sent an eviction notice?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did Friederich ever start paying again?”

“I don't know. Larry never brought it up.”

Charlotte turned to Francine. “Jonathan is his accountant. Wouldn't he know about this?”

She lifted one eyebrow. “You know I can't comment on things that are client confidential.”

Mary Ruth squatted into a folding chair. “I wonder if the police know about Friederich being behind on the rent. It makes sense that they would want to question Larry if they discovered that.”

“They didn't know until earlier today. Jud tricked me into talking about the incident. He called about an hour before Larry did, and what he said made me think he knew. So I let it all out. Now I'm not sure he knew at all.”

Charlotte chuckled. “That Jud, he's a good bluffer. You could tell him a flying saucer just landed in Arbuckle Acres and he'd act like his department filed the flight plan. You never know if he really knows anything or not.”

“They'd probably been over to Friederich's house and gotten the information there,” said Francine soothingly. “All they'd need to find would be a checkbook or his computer files to figure out he wasn't paying Larry.”

Charlotte put down her pen. “I hadn't thought about Friederich's house. We need to get in there.”

“We can't do that!” Mary Ruth said. They all looked at her. “I mean, I'm sure it's illegal.”

Charlotte waggled her eyebrows. “Not if there's no crime scene tape barring the door. And anyway, if Jud is prying information out of Alice to gain circumstantial evidence pointing the finger of guilt at Larry, we should be able to access Friederich's house to prove otherwise.”

“And just how do you think you're going to get in there?” Joy asked.

“I have connections,” Charlotte replied. “Just leave it to me. Remember what's at stake here.”

“So, what is at stake, anyway?” Mary Ruth said. “Sure, the police are investigating Larry and Alice, but they're innocent, or at least Alice is. This is all about
you
solving a mystery, isn't it?”

Charlotte sat back, affronted by the accusation. “We all know of cases where justice has been perverted.”

“No we don't. Not personally. And you only think there's a lot of it going on because of those creepy thrillers you read.”

“How about we have some cake?” Francine stood up, hoping to defuse the tension.

“It's my cake,” Mary Ruth said.

“Yes, it is,” she replied. “It's your wonderful flourless chocolate cake.”

“Make sure you wash your hands before you cut into it.”

Francine took a deep breath before she responded. “We need to have some cake and cool off, but let me make this observation before we do. As bad as it sounds, it's not just a murder that's been committed. It may well be that the killer is not through yet. He may be actively working to frame Larry. Jonathan and I have reason to believe that.”

“Really?” Mary Ruth said, sounding doubtful. “You need to stop encouraging Charlotte like this. You have some kind of proof ?”

“I hate to be mysterious about this, but I can't say more until Jonathan talks to Larry.”

“That could be awhile,” Charlotte said. “In the meantime, the more we do to uncover the real facts of this case, the sooner the police will be able to find whoever killed Friederich. I have a plan. After everyone gets cake and coffee, I'll lay it out. Then we can discuss it.”