Chapter Fifteen

Aster, Maise, Dab, Eleanor, and Fred must’ve heard my tires on the gravel driveway because they spilled onto the wide, wraparound farmhouse porch before I had the car in park. Maise shot down the porch steps to hug Sherry as soon as she planted her feet on the ground.

The family must’ve been more worried than I’d imagined because as they ushered us into the parlor, I noticed cordial glasses on the coffee table and a half-empty bottle of Aster’s honeysuckle wine. The open bag of pretzels reinforced how distressed they’d been. I’d rarely seen the seniors snack at all, and never this late at night.

Dab and Fred took the two wingback chairs at the far end of the long couch, and Amber headed straight for Fred to lie beside his feet. Aster dropped cross-legged to the floor close to the coffee table, while Eleanor and Maise led Sherry to the couch, where all three sank into the comfy cushions. I should know they were comfy. I’d spent a good number of nights sleeping on that couch before I moved into my apartment.

That left the upholstered chair closest to the entry for me, and I sat with my stomach in knots. I rather expected T.C. to come sit with me, but she leaped to the sofa, padded to Sherry’s lap, and lay with her tail curled around her paws.

Eleanor poured Sherry a glass of wine. When I declined, she picked up her own glass, but no one spoke. Now that I saw my aunt in bright light, I was concerned about her pallor. I broke the silence.

“Can you talk about what happened in your interviews, or did Vogelman tell you to keep mum?”

“I went first,” Dab said, but with a sly grin instead of a scowl. “She said she knew I’d worked as a chemical engineer and asked me how I’d make peanut oil. I told her I wouldn’t make it. If I ever wanted such a thing, I’d go buy it at the store. She scribbled notes like there was no tomorrow.”

Maise cleared her throat. “I was second. She asked me about peanut oil, too. I told her I use all-vegetable shortening all the way.” Now she cracked a smile. “I thought she was going to turn green when I told our mother used lard, but shortening was healthier.”

Aster scooted back from the coffee table with a handful of pretzels so she could see us all. “I went in third. The detective kept harping on the plate of snickerdoodles, and how they ended up in Cornell’s car. Well! I finally told her I might still be a hippie at heart, but not a psychic. You went next, Eleanor. What did she yammer at you about?”

“The time I lived in Ozark Arms, and what Cornell had done to me. He was rude, insulting, incompetent, and thoroughly unpleasant every time I saw him, but I learned to avoid him. And after the first time he supposedly fixed my oven, I never called on him again.”

“That’s right,” Fred chimed in. “She called on me, and when I couldn’t help her, I referred her to specialists. They never could fix that oven and stovetop, though. Just like I couldn’t stop that rattle in your old car, Maise. I swear that clunker laughed at me.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Fred.”

To keep us on track, I said, “Fred, Vogelman asked me about your pistol. Did she grill you about it, too?”

“The stupid idjit woman has lost her mind if that’s all she’s got on me. Gun ain’t loaded, and I ain’t shot it in years. She sent Eric over to get it so she could see if it had been fired.”

“What do you mean by ‘sent him over’? You didn’t give him a key to the house, did you?”

“He followed us home, but there’ll be nothin’ to find. It’s a family piece, just for show, even if I do bluster about it from time to time.”

I turned to Sherry. “How about you?”

“She hassled me about the pieces of forested land I own and what a great place it was to hide Dex’s body. As if.”

I nodded. “She asked me about your land, too. And the cookies. And about Fred’s Colt .45.”

“And there’s more.” Sherry paused and took a gulp of wine. “Remember that confession we have to make to you? Brace yourself, child.”

“For heaven’s sake, what could be so bad?” I demanded, anxiety eating at my gut.

“My arrest record.”

My jaw went slack, but after a silent moment, the others chuckled and chortled. Fred laughed so hard, he slapped his knee and momentarily startled the dog.

“What on earth is so funny about having an arrest record?”

Eleanor waved a hand. “Nixy, I do believe we’ve all been arrested at least once.”

“At—at least?” I stammered.

“At one time or t’other we’ve been in the pokey for disturbin’ the peace, resistin’ arrest—”

“Unlawful assembly,” Dab put in.

Aster giggled. “Nixy, you do realize how old we are, don’t you?”

I blinked.

Maise shook her head as if I were the class dunce. “If you did the math, you’d get it, but I’ll save you the trouble. We belonged to the generation of activism. Sit-ins.”

“Protest marches,” Sherry added.

“And pro-marches, too,” Eleanor said. “We each marched for civil rights, although not together. We hadn’t met back then.”

“I protested the Vietnam War, but my dear sister never held it against me even though she was already in the Navy.”

That bit of Maise’s and Aster’s history I remembered hearing from Sherry, but I was still stunned.

“Apartheid, dolphin-safe fishing, save the whales,” Dab said. “We’ve all taken up causes now and then.”

I shook my head. “I’m speechless.”

“Too bad Vogelman wasn’t,” Sherry said tartly. “How she could think a charge of civil disobedience years ago has any bearing on these murders, I don’t know.”

“She’s grasping at straws,” Dab said.

Maise turned to me. “Can’t Eric talk some sense into her?”

I shrugged. “Y’all saw how he acted tonight. I don’t think he’ll tell me squat even if I do talk to him.”

We chatted another five minutes before Fred stretched and swung his walker around from the side of his chair.

“Don’t know ’bout the rest of you, but I’m for bed.”

That was my cue to leave with the critters, but I reminded the gang to call me immediately if they needed anything.

As I settled the animals in the backseat, I glanced at Bernice’s house. I didn’t see any lights on, so I presumed she was in bed. I also presumed she’d have the scoop on the Six being questioned before the sun went up. If she didn’t already.

I’d backed out of the driveway and pointed the car toward home when my cell played Eric’s ringtone. I glanced at the passenger seat where the phone rested. Answer the call or give him the silent treatment? Who was I kidding? I wasn’t the silent-treatment type.

“Are you at the farmhouse?” he asked when I answered the call.

“I am. Are you calling to tell me Inspector Clouseau is on her way over to arrest every last one of the Silver Six?”

“No, and, Nixy, Vogelman is not incompetent.”

“Agree to disagree. So, are you still at the station?”

“I’m in the parking lot behind the emporium. I wanted to see you,” he said, his dreamy voice deepening.

Okay, I had to admit that got to me. I wanted to see him, too, in spite of my frustration and ire. I sighed.

“All right, I’ll be home in about five minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

•   •   •

The fur babies went nuts when they saw Eric, but they didn’t seem interested in walking. Up in my apartment, they lapped up his attention right after they lapped some water.

“How are the Six holding up?” he asked from his end of the sofa. I sat on the other end. This was not a snuggle-time talk.

“They’re tired and ticked, and so am I. Sherry told me Vogelman made a big deal about her arrest for some protest march.”

“Did you know about her record?”

“Eric, that’s not a record. That’s an isolated incident forty to fifty years ago. Besides, every one of the Six has been arrested for supporting some cause or another, but that didn’t keep them from clearing the background checks to volunteer at the technical college.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know bringing that up may have been a little extreme—”

“A little?” I snorted. “Eric, Vogelman pulled that bit of ancient history out of her hat to intimidate Sherry. It didn’t work. And the peanut oil thing? Maise wouldn’t be caught dead cooking with olive oil, much less peanut oil.”

He shrugged and extended his hand, palm up, across the divide of cushions. “Nixy, I don’t want this to come between us.”

I hesitated only a second before I put my hand in his. “I don’t either, and I understand your position. I really do. I just don’t have to like it.”

With our fingers loosely linked, he offered a smile. “We’ve butted heads over my cases before. Like when Sherry was a suspect back in April.”

“Yes, but you gave her the benefit of the doubt. You didn’t take the easy way out. You kept digging, and you listened to me when I brought you information.”

“I had the advantage of knowing Sherry from the time I was a teenager,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

“I remember. She was one of your favorite teachers.”

“Right, and I also wasn’t under the same kind of pressure Charlene is.”

“You mean she’s bent on impressing your chief.”

“To a point, you’re right. I had to placate him while I continued investigating, but not necessarily impress him.”

“Making a false arrest isn’t going to win her points, is it?”

He opened, then closed his mouth.

I squeezed his warm hand and scooted marginally closer. “Eric, I get that this is her case. I get that she has to do what she thinks best. She’s way off base, though, and as long as she’s focused on my family, how hard will she look for the real killer?”

“Or killers plural. Lewis was essentially poisoned, but Hamlin was shot.”

“Can you tell what caliber of gun was used?”

“No, and the bullet lodged in the body. Whoever did it policed his brass.”

“So you have to wait for the autopsy,” I groused.

“Yes, but you don’t.” His lips quirked. “I know you’re snooping with the Six. Charlene told me about the flip chart in Fred’s workroom.”

“She poked fun about it, right?”

“Yep.”

“At least she didn’t tell me to butt out of the case.”

“I won’t either. I’ll only say be careful, and if you have anything you think we should know, tell me. Okay?”

I gazed into his bedroom brown eyes. “Okay.”

He scooched close enough to put his arm around my shoulders. “Good, now will you please kiss me?”

•   •   •

Thursday morning, I was still unhappy with the whole situation of Vogelman questioning the Six. In contrast, I was happy to have seen Eric last night and settled some of the tension between us. I smiled through my routine: get dressed, feed myself and the critters, take our walk, and get ready to open the store.

Then I found the list of names Eleanor had prepared, compared them to those on the flip chart, and made a plan.

So had the Silver Six, because as they burst through the back door with the huge tray of cookies they always had on hand for customers, Maise announced, “We have a plan!”

Since they were in better moods than I expected, I laughed.

“Tell me.”

Maise marched to our customary confab worktable and slapped a legal pad on it. “Fred and Dab need supplies from Big George’s hardware store.”

“For them holiday metal-art things you want,” Fred put in.

“They’ll do recon for scuttlebutt there on both Cornell’s and Dex’s enemies.” Maise stabbed her finger on the pad and continued. “Sherry needs her hair trimmed, so she’s headed to Helen’s salon in fifteen minutes. Aster and I will hold down the fort while you go with Eleanor to talk to more people on her list. Any questions?”

“Just one,” I said.

“Speak.”

“What on earth did y’all have for breakfast?”

Fred barked a laugh, and Maise swatted my arm. “Move out.”

“Aye-aye.”

•   •   •

Since it wasn’t yet ten in the morning, I left Eleanor making phone calls to locate our quarries while I ran two errands. First, I stopped at Gaskin’s Business Center to pick up the photos I’d e-mailed to Kay requesting 5 × 7 prints. After a short chat with her, I left with the pictures in a manila envelope Kay had provided and popped down to Great Buns to see what Judy had heard lately.

She was alone in the bakery but madly boxing cookies at the stainless-steel counter. When she saw me, though, she stopped and rushed to hug me.

“Oh, Nixy, I heard about that new detective questioning the Six. How are they doing?”

“They’re fighting mad,” I said as Judy pulled away. “Please tell me you’ve heard some gossip that could be a lead.”

She returned to the counter, changed her plastic gloves for a fresh pair, and resumed filling the cookie box. “I heard Dex Hamlin was found dead somewhere out around the Pines Motor Court. The truck was parked on an access road back in the trees.”

“Yeah, on a piece of Sherry’s land on a road her logging company uses.”

“Sherry has a logging company?”

“I said that wrong. The company she hires uses those access roads.”

“Ah, those access roads are all over the place. Maybe a logger bumped Dex off.”

“Why?”

“No idea, but you and the Six are in full investigation mode, right?”

I gave her a weak smile. “As of today, yes. Please keep your ears open for us, will you?”

“You’ve got it, but check out that company. And don’t get yourself in trouble again, or you’ll wear me thin.”

•   •   •

Sherry had left for her hair appointment by the time I returned, but Dinah Souse was in the store. There were no customers at the moment, and she repeated the briefing she’d given to the seniors.

“Every scrap of evidence is circumstantial, but I fear Vogelman will present it to the county’s deputy prosecuting attorney.”

“Dinah, I’ve watched my share of cop shows, but dumb this down for me. Do you think Aster and Maise will be arrested?”

“If the detective has her way, that might happen. If it does, I’ll push for the arraignment to be held as quickly as possible. After the ruckus y’all’s friends made when Sherry was questioned last spring, I don’t think the judge will want to keep them in custody for long.”

“Do you really think the circumstantial evidence is compelling enough to sway Judge James?” Eleanor asked.

Dinah sighed. “Given the chance, I’d argue against it, but I can’t take action at this point. I know how worrying this is, but strive for calm.”

“I’ll break out the lavender oil and make more spray.”

“Whatever it takes, get on with life as usual. You have nothing to hide, so don’t.”

I’d get on with life by getting on with the investigation.

•   •   •

Eleanor and I decided to track down Marshall Gibson, the goateed hospital volunteer, before keeping our lunch appointment with the Darbys and Lorraine Chandler. When she couldn’t reach him at home, she called the hospital. I was a bit surprised that whoever she talked with gave out the information, but she was told he was working.

After checking at the main desk, then the ER, we ran him to ground in the compact but relatively comfortable surgery waiting room making new pots of regular and decaf coffee. The hospital only had twenty beds, so I was surprised to see ten people waiting for word on their loved ones.

We had no privacy for the talk we needed to have.

When Marshall turned from the beverage counter with its bar sink, his face lit with pleasure when he recognized Eleanor.

“My dear Mrs. Wainwright,” he said as he quick-stepped to her. “How are you? Not here for surgery, I hope.”

“No, Marshall, I’m fine, and you know I asked you to call me Eleanor.”

“Yes, but that was several years ago.” The phone on his desk trilled, and he hurried to answer it. All eyes in the room turned to him, waiting. “O’Malley family,” he said when he replaced the receiver.

“Here, here,” a young woman said as she rushed to the desk. Four others I took to also be O’Malleys anxiously crowded behind her.

“All is well. Your mother is in recovery, and the doctor will be here in a jiffy to talk to you. There’s a private room next door if you’d like to meet him there.”

After distracted thank-yous, the family headed out. At least that was five fewer people listening. If Marshall would even talk to us.

He made a tick mark on a printout, laid the pen precisely beside the paper, and straightened. Then he narrowed his gaze on me.

“I know you. You came looking for that scoundrel—” He must’ve realized he was talking too loudly because he broke off and then motioned us into the hall. Once there, he rounded on me.

“You were looking for Cornell Lewis in the ER,” he snapped.

“Yes, but not because he’s a friend. Or rather was a friend.”

“Then why?”

“I do believe we need to start over. Marshall, let me present Leslee Nix, Sherry Mae Cutler’s niece. She goes by Nixy, and we’re looking into Cornell’s death.”

“And now Dex Hamlin’s, too.”

Marshall shook his head. “Eleanor, Lewis was a scourge. Why do you care that he’s dead?”

“Because my dear housemates and I are suspects in his murder,” Eleanor said baldly.

“That’s preposterous!” he exclaimed. “You still live at Sherry Mae Cutler’s farmhouse, don’t you?”

“That’s right, and Aster Parsons and Maise Holcomb live with us, too.”

“Maise was a nurse here in town,” he said as he stroked his goatee with a thin index finger that looked like it had been broken. I noticed his hand trembled slightly as well. Was he nervous?

He peered into the waiting room, then sighed as he turned back to us. “I don’t know what I can tell you, but I’ll help if I can.”

“We appreciate that, Mr. Gibson.”

“Marshall.”

I jumped right in. “On Sunday when I saw you in the ER, you said you hadn’t seen Cornell Lewis and he hadn’t come in for treatment.”

“That’s right.”

“You also seemed surprised he was in town. You hadn’t heard rumors he was here?”

“Actually, Barbara Linden—you remember Barbara, Eleanor?” She nodded, and he continued. “I was watching football and cooking on Saturday, but I saw her when I went out to get my mail during halftime. She told me she’d seen him at the folk art festival.”

Huh. So Marshall did know Cornell was in town. “Did Barbara mention if she saw him with anyone in particular? Did you want to confront him?”

“No, she didn’t mention anyone,” he said, and looked at Eleanor, “but, yes, I did want to have a few choice words with him. I wanted to warn him away from bothering any of us. I even drove downtown, but when I saw how far away I’d have to park, I went home. He wasn’t worth that much trouble.”

I couldn’t decide whether I believed him, but I changed gears. “How long have you volunteered here?”

He hesitated as if I’d thrown him off stride, then answered proudly, “I’ll get my five-year volunteer pin next month.”

“This is a delicate question, but do you remember Dennis Moreno from the apartment complex?”

His expression closed ever so subtly. “He worked at the library.”

“I heard he was bullied, too.”

“He was. He was gay, and Cornell was merciless to him.”

“Was gay?” I echoed. “Is he deceased?”

“Not as far as I know. He moved home. His mother was ill, I think.”

“Do you know of anyone who would kill Cornell Lewis?”

“The residents would’ve loved for him to keel over, but he was fired, and that was good enough for us.”

“Okay, thank you for your help,” I said as the waiting room phone rang.

Marshall said a quick good-bye and strode off to answer it.

“What now, Eleanor? Can we drop in on anyone else on your list?”

“There will be no dropping in on anyone,” she said firmly. “We have thirty minutes before we meet the group for lunch. I do believe I’m in the mood for a strong cup of coffee, so drive to the Dairy Queen. And then, Nixy, you will tell me why you keep asking my friends about Dennis Moreno.”

•   •   •

Lilyvale was small enough to cover a lot of ground in a short time, so we were at the DQ drive-through in minutes. With a black coffee for Eleanor, and a coffee with sugar for me, I explained myself.

“It feels important, Eleanor. I heard a rumor that someone Cornell bullied ended up dead. Judy thought she heard it from Debbie Nicole from the library, but none of you who were there at Ozark Arms seems to remember a death. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“Nixy, as I told you before, talk with Debbie Nicole about it. If anyone can answer your questions about Dennis, she’s your best bet. Truly, I don’t believe most of the residents knew him well.”

“He wasn’t unfriendly if he saw Minnie regularly and ran books back and forth to her.”

“He wasn’t unfriendly at all,” she said. “He simply kept more to himself than not.”

I sighed and wheeled into the parking lot behind the emporium. The CPA that Barbara worked for was across the street, so we’d walk.

“Okay, I’ll call the library this afternoon to see if Debbie Nicole will talk to me.”

“Good. Let’s go meet our lunch dates. I’ve already told them we’re investigating and why. I certainly hope they know more than everyone else we’ve spoken with.”

“Keep the faith, Eleanor,” I advised, and tried to keep my own.