| |
I dropped Ida Belle and Gertie off and headed home. On the way, I decided to stop by Emma’s house and drop in on Victor and Bessie. They weren’t home. I left a sticky note on the door, “Call me,” it said.
As I was pulling away, I remembered the two books Carter had dropped off for me to return to the library. They were the copies of The Crucible and The House of Mirth, the two books I’d brought for Emma to read a short while before she died. They were in my back seat. As long as I was out, I decided, I might as well return them to the library.
I returned the books and was just heading back to my car when I saw a man who looked vaguely familiar. He was in his late forties, tall, strongly-built, with tanned skin. His curly black hair rested in loose curls on top of his head. His three-day-old facial scruff gave him a ruggedly handsome look. He too, was returning books.
Had I seen him at Francine’s? At Walter’s store? I couldn’t remember, but he looked familiar. It must have been the Swamp Bar, I thought. Was he there the other night when I spoke to Victor and Bessie? That had to be it.
I shook off the feeling as I left the library. When I opened my car door, a blinking light from inside my car caught my attention.
I’d left my phone in the passenger seat of my car, and saw the alert notification light blinking. I’d received two texts; one from Gertie; one from Victor.
Gertie wrote, “Irma confirms Maxine was at the Bridge game Friday night. Thinks Maxine may have cheated at cards.”
I opened second the message. It was from Victor. “We are home now,” it read. “Stop by when you can.”
I drove back to Emma’s house. Victor answered the door. He was dressed in gray sweatpants and a faded yellow t-shirt.
“Ah, Fortune. Come in,” Victor said. “Bessie and I are just sitting down for tea in the garden. Would you like to join us?”
“That would be nice, thank you,” I replied.
Bessie was sitting out back, on the patio. The tea setting was already in place. She was pouring as Victor and I sat down. The setting in Emma’s back yard was beautiful. She always kept a beautiful garden, but it was now lovelier than ever. It made me sad to know that she would no longer be around to enjoy it.
I looked at Victor; he seemed melancholy.
“How was your day?” I asked.
Victor shrugged, “Both good and bad, depending on your perspective.”
Bessie nodded, “We are able to rule out Celia Arceneaux as a suspect,” she said.
“I’m not surprised,” I said. “Celia is an evil witch, but she’s not a murdering evil witch.”
“On both points we agree,” Victor said, “especially the part about Celia being an evil witch.”
“Do you think she could have hired someone to do the job?” I asked.
“No. We did wonder about that,” Bessie said. “We hacked into her computer and accessed her bank account records.”
My mouth dropped open, “Without a warrant?”
“Don’t act so surprised, my dear Fortune,” he said. “Much good investigative work stretches the boundaries of protocol.”
“That may have been too much,” I said. “If Carter ever found out . . .”
“He won’t,” Victor said. “Besides, there was nothing to find. Celia lives far more modestly than she would like you to believe. She is not rich by any means but has enough to get by. I don’t think she could afford to hire an accomplice to pull off a murder, even if she were predisposed to do so.”
“So, Celia had no recent large deposits made into her account?” I asked.
Victor shook his head, no, “She’s had no deposits of any kind with the exception of her small pension check.”
“That actually sold it for us,” he said. “It was not Celia.”
“You wanted it to be Celia, didn’t you?” I said.
He tilted his head and looked at me over top of his wire-rimmed glasses, “I’d be lying if said the thought of seeing her behind bars didn’t have a certain appel satisfaisant, but be that as it may, she is innocent. Tell me about Maxine Reed.”
“There is nothing there,” I said. “Maxine Reed was not involved.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” he said.
“How can you be certain?” Bessie asked.
I took Victor and Bessie through my meeting with Maxine. I spared no details. The brother and sister both listened intently. I could see Victor pinching his lips together in frustration as he realized there would be no evidence that Maxine had anything to do with Emma’s death.
“Well then, doesn’t that just put the flour on the biscuit,” Victor said in a dejected tone. “We are left where we started, at the beginning.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, when you originally checked into Mark Baker, did you find out what he was trying to hide from me?” I asked.
Victor nodded, “Emma indeed sought his advice on opening an offshore bank account in the Cayman Islands. She had been told that it would provide her a substantial tax relief. Mark counseled against it, saying that the transfer might get the attention of the IRS and if that happened, a full-blown audit or investigation would ensue.”
“So?”
“She gave up on the idea, I’m told,” Victor said.
“So, her money is still in her account?”
“Yes, it is,” Bessie said.
“Where could a woman like Emma get such an idea about opening an offshore account?” I asked.
Victor shrugged, “She did watch a lot of television.”
“That’s going to make money as a motivation for murder more difficult,” I said. “What about her regular bank account? I was told she liquidated all the funds.”
“She did,” Bessie said. “She withdrew its contents, but it was only $1,112.35.”
“Just over a thousand dollars?” I repeated. “Is that all?”
Bessie nodded, “It was normal. Emma was receiving a monthly stipend from the account that Mark managed. It was her way of continuing to be frugal. She didn’t allow herself large sums of money to access easily.”
I sighed.
“None of this points to murder,” I said. “Maybe we’re wrong.”
“We’re not wrong,” Bessie insisted.
“But if the murderer was after money, and her money is still intact, why kill her?” I asked.
“Yet another question we have no answer to, I’m afraid,” Victor said.
“We still don’t know why Emma took that money from her bank, though,” I said.
“And we may never know,” Victor replied. “Perhaps she used it for the high school theater remodel.”
“No, she didn’t,” I told him. “I checked.”
“Then I’m at a loss. The small amount which is unaccounted for is not enough to murder someone over, especially if the murderer knew how much she was worth.”
“I’m sorry, Victor,” I replied. “I was hoping we’d solve this quickly, or at least get a strong lead.”
“Let’s not forget, it is the first day we’ve really started to look,” Bessie said.
Victor sighed and stood. His face bore a look of sadness, “If both of you will excuse me, this day has been a total loss. I’m going to have a stiff drink and read in bed for a while.”
“Of course,” I said, standing. “I need to be going as well.”
“We’ll talk again, tomorrow,” Bessie said.
“I’ll show myself out,” I said.
Victor paused to take in the scent of one of the beautiful plants in Emma’s garden. He looked dejected and defeated. I felt badly for him. I headed toward the door.