Murder by Arrangement Page 12

  “Seems he was on foot, at least part of the way. Neighbor stepped outside about nine o’clock to walk her dog. Thought our description of Clem sounded like a man she saw stumbling down the street. She lives at the opposite end of the block from Peppa’s house. Said the man was a couple of houses away with his back to her, so she only got an impression. She figured he was a drunk, stumbling home. Didn’t think much more about it until we knocked on her door when we canvased the neighborhood.”

  “Surely Clem couldn’t have walked all the way from Lily Beck’s to Peppa’s, particularly if he were drunk,” Edna said. “That must be … what … at least three miles.”

  Charlie shook his head, more in bewilderment than denial. “You’re right. Can’t think he could have made it that far under his own steam, but his truck was in the garage. Lily’s car, too. Someone must have given him a ride. We’re thinking maybe he hitched and got dropped off somewhere nearby. That could explain it. Reporters are getting the story out, asking for anyone who might have picked him up to contact us. It’s a long shot, but it’s all we got right now.”

  “I suppose you questioned Lily about her comings and goings Saturday night. The way she treated him when I was there, I can’t imagine she’d offer to drive him anywhere.” Edna thought of something else. “According to her daughter, Lily doesn’t drive if the weather is bad or even if it looks like it will be bad.”

  Charlie nodded. “She was one of the first people we interviewed. Said she hadn’t left the house. She said her daughter and granddaughter were with her the entire evening. They had dinner together, then decided to watch a movie on TV. Lily said partway through the show, she began to feel queasy and went to bed after taking an antacid. Left Rose and Violet around seven and didn’t see them again until Rose came into her room at five thirty Sunday morning.”

  “Five thirty?” Edna asked, surprised at the news. “Why so early?”

  “Apparently, Rose had to go to work. Told her mother that she promised her boss to make up for not working late Saturday afternoon.”

  “And she took Violet back to Warwick with her,” Edna interjected.

  “That’s right. Lily said she dozed off again for an hour and when she got up, she realized her granddaughter was gone. Called Rose just to make certain the girl was with her. Seemed angry that her daughter hadn’t mentioned it when she left.”

  Edna thought for a minute while she sipped tea. She couldn’t think of anything else to ask Charlie about Clem until the M.E.’s report was in. She wasn’t finished picking his brain, though. “Besides the blistering and the fact that Gregory was cremated, what else do you know about the investigation?”

  “The Haverstrum case?” Charlie held his mug out when Edna lifted the coffee pot in a silent offer of a refill, then settled back in his chair. “From what I remember, he was found by his cleaning woman. As you already know, he’d been dead about two days. He was home with the flu before that, so nobody missed him. No broken appointments or things of that sort that would have sent someone around sooner. There were rumors about food poisoning, others about possible suicide. The body was in pretty bad shape. He’d been pretty sick before he died. Also, the heat in his condo had been turned up. Granted, it was wintertime, but the temperature was near ninety in his place. A dead body in those conditions deteriorates faster than normal.” Charlie sat forward to set his coffee cup on the table. “Reporters had a number of theories, probably to sell papers, but nothing amounted to much as far as the investigating team was concerned. Most of what they found in his place was chalked up to his illness.”

  Edna was confused. “If everything was ruled out, why is John Forrester trying to pin something on Rosie?”

  “Are you sure that’s what he’s doing?” Before she could respond, Charlie went on. “From what I know, she went to the condo and cleaned up. Several people had brought casseroles or soups to Haverstrum. You know, the sort of thing folks do for sick friends who are helpless around the house.” Charlie grinned at Edna as if he were speaking from personal experience.

  She smiled in return, but absently. She was thinking of Rosie’s visit to her estranged husband’s abode. “I assume the timing worked out to prove Gregory was still alive when she left him?”

  “So she claimed in her statement. She said she’d stopped in to see if he needed anything. Everyone else was bringing him food, so she was only checking on him. Said she knew he had a cleaning woman, but the kitchen was such a mess, she figured she’d straighten it up.”

  “She was being pretty nice to him, considering how badly he’d treated her.”

  Charlie shook his head. “I’ll never understand it, but some marriages are like that. Wife can’t live with her husband, but can’t seem to live without him, either.”

  “And vice versa,” Edna added.

  “And vice versa,” Charlie agreed.

  “Let me guess,” Edna said, returning to the subject. “Detective Forrester doesn’t buy it that Rosie cleaned up when she knew Gregory had a cleaning woman coming in.”

  Charlie raised his eyebrows. “You’re onto this detective business pretty well, Mrs. Davies.”

  Edna felt a glow of pleasure over the compliment, but was also a little surprised. “I thought I was being sarcastic. Does he really think like that? After all, the housekeeper wasn’t expected for a couple more days. Right? If the kitchen were dirty, her washing up would make sense to me.”

  Charlie nodded. “To give John his due, Rosie’s efforts were confined to the kitchen. She said Gregory had taken food out of the refrigerator, left stuff in pots on the stove, took lids off dishes to see what was inside and hadn’t put anything back. According to her, some things were beginning to mold and some to smell up the place, so she ground the garbage in the disposal and ran the pots and pans through the dishwasher. At the time, our investigators suspected she did that to destroy evidence.” Charlie shrugged as if to say, her motive is anyone’s guess.

  “But,” Edna speculated, “because the medical examiner didn’t find anything unusual in Gregory’s body, nobody could prove foul play.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you don’t think John Forrester is trying to implicate Rosie in the death of her husband?”

  Charlie shrugged again. “Seems like you’re jumping to conclusions just because he’s asking questions about an old case. Maybe he’s curious.”

  “But why that particular case? Didn’t you say he’d been taken off it, less than a day after the body was found?”

  “Right again.” Charlie turned his wrist to look at his watch. “Uh, oh. I gotta get back to work.” He rose and bent to give Edna a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for lunch.”

  After he’d gone, Edna thought about her last question. Why indeed was John Forrester investigating a case he was never really on in the first place?

  Chapter 17

  “You home, Edna?”

  Mary’s voice reached Edna about the same time that Hank rested his muzzle on her lap, tail happily wagging. Ink Spot jumped onto the chair beside the one on which Benjamin sat looking much like a miniature Sphinx. The black cat then stepped delicately across to the ginger cat’s cushion before sitting on an edge, nonchalantly beginning to lick a paw.

  Once the lunch dishes had been cleared and the kitchen cleaned, Edna had spent the afternoon running a few errands before returning home to a cup of tea and her thoughts. Her mind had been racing and the tea cooling as Mary let herself and her companions in through the mudroom.

  “Hi, neighbor.” Glad for the distraction, Edna lifted the cozy and felt the tea pot to find it had grown as cold as the liquid in her cup. “I could use a warmer. How about you?”

  “Wouldn’t mind.” Mary placed a large book on the table next to Edna’s elbow before sitting opposite and resting her forearms on the table. The book’s cover was a faded brown with “A History of Rhode Island, Colonial Days to the Great War” in faded gold lettering.

  “What’s this?” Edna picked
up the old book and scanned the title page and table of contents. The tome was at least two inches thick and heavy, its pages yellowed with age.

  “It was in our library,” Mary said. “Belonged to my grandfather. He collected books, mostly history. I’ve been doin’ research.”

  “On your ghost. So Starling told me. You look more rested today. Has he gone?”

  “No. He’s still running around up there. I just got up from a nap. Came over to give you my new theory. Get your opinion.”

  Setting the book aside, Edna rose to fill the kettle and place it on the stove while Hank moved to settle on the floor next to the cats’ chair. As she returned to the table for the porcelain pot, she raised her eyebrows. “A new theory?”

  Mary nodded. “I’ve been readin’ this book to find out what I can about the area. Figured it might give me a clue to my ghost. You know, who he is and why he’s suddenly become restless. Found a chapter on early slavery in Rhode Island. Our house was a station on the Underground Railroad.” She announced the latter with some pride.

  “Really?” Edna was intrigued.

  “Yup,” Mary’s head bobbed and an amused grin spread across her face. “One time, when Nanny wasn’t lookin’, I snuck into the storage side of the attic. I wasn’t allowed in that room, so of course that’s where I wanted to explore. I discovered a hiding place in the chimney.”

  “Oh?” Edna said, smiling at her mental image of a child as unmanageable as her carroty-red, curly hair. Fascinated by the Osbourne mansion’s past, Edna listened intently as she poured hot water into the pot to warm it and reached for the tin of loose tea.

  “There’s a false front on two sides of the big chimney in the storage area, above Father’s old rooms.”

  Edna thought of her night in the bedroom over the kitchen after Tom Greene had been killed. She’d stayed with Mary when the Davieses’ house had been broken into and Edna’s life had been threatened. She remembered with some guilt, sneaking down the back stairs in an attempt to escape from Mary who, Edna suspected at the time, had dangerous intentions.

  “It’s where the runaway slaves hid when bounty hunters came looking for them.” Mary’s voice broke into Edna’s reflections, as her story continued. “Father discovered I’d found the secret place, and he told me that when that addition was built onto the main house shortly before the Civil War, the masons added the extra brick to the chimney. He said there was also supposed to be a secret passage in the house, but he didn’t know where. He thought it must be between the new section and the original outside wall, maybe a secret stairway up to the attic or down to the dirt cellar. Off and on, growing up, I used to try to find it.” Mary chucked. “I probably drove poor Nanny crazy, knocking on the walls, trying to figure out if they were hollow. Forgot all about it ‘til I started readin’ about the abolitionists.”

  “That’s interesting,” Edna said, bringing the freshly brewed tea to the table. “I’d like to see the old chimney hideout sometime.”

  Mary nodded and went on with her narrative, leaving Edna relieved her neighbor hadn’t used the impulsive remark to begin pressuring Edna to spend the night. Instead, Mary pulled the book closer to her and rested a hand on the cover. “Did you know Rhode Island was the first of the original thirteen colonies to ban slavery?”

  Edna shook her head, reseating herself at the table. “No, I didn’t.”

  Mary’s brow creased in puzzlement. “That part of the history confuses me ‘cause it also says Rhode Island had twice as many slaves as any other colony. After the Revolutionary War, Rhode Island merchants controlled more than half the trade in African slaves. That was part of the Triangle Trade I remember learning about in school. You know, when molasses was shipped to New England to make rum, and then the rum was shipped to Africa to trade for slaves who were transported to the sugar plantations in the Caribbean so more molasses could be produced. And around and around it went,” she said, rolling her head as if to demonstrate the unending circle.

  Edna was interested, but bewildered. “I think we’ve gotten off the subject. What does all that old history have to do with your ghost? Do you suspect he’s hiding in the chimney?”

  Mary shook her head vigorously. “No, no. Not necessarily. Don’t you see? The chimney only proves that people hid up there. The ghost might be an escaped slave who died in the attic, but he could just as well have been killed in the nearby woods and his spirit made it to the house because it was a safe place.”

  “Don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard with these ghost theories of yours? Maybe you should call an exterminator and have them look for whatever wild animal is hiding under the eaves.”

  Mary looked crestfallen. “You haven’t heard those sounds. It isn’t a wild animal. If you’d come spend a night, you’d know what I’m talking about.”

  Not quite ready to go ghost-busting, Edna knew a sure-fire way to distract Mary was police business. Noncommittally, she said, “Okay. I will, but not tonight. Right now, Amanda’s friend Lettie is on my mind. You might be able to help me try to figure something out.”

  Mary’s eyes brightened as she picked up her tea mug and held it between her hands. Before taking a sip, she said, “Sure. What is it?”

  “What do you know about the scandal surrounding Gregory Haverstrum’s death?”

  The redhead frowned in bewilderment. “That was a coupla years ago. Why do you want to know about that?”

  “Remember when I was suspected of poisoning Tom?”

  Mary nodded, but didn’t speak.

  “Well, Rosie Beck is living under the same dark cloud as I was before Tom’s murderer was caught. Thank goodness the investigation didn’t drag out and affect my family, but unfortunately that’s not the case with Rosie, and I learned recently that Gregory’s daughter Lettie is being taunted by her classmates. Right now, Amanda is her only friend. I’m very worried that sooner or later my granddaughter’s friends will turn on her, too … or, if not their classmates, the parents will forbid their children to associate with the girls.”

  Mary slouched in her chair, her mouth twisting in a smile that held no humor. “Kids can be cruel,” she said, and Edna suspected her neighbor was speaking from personal experience.

  Was it the carroty-red, unmanageable hair that her playmates ridiculed or Mary’s lanky height or maybe the fact that she had a nanny? Anything that made a child stand out from the rest was fodder for juvenile mockery, Edna thought with a mental shake of her head. Aloud, she said, “I’d like to help that poor girl by finding out what exactly happened to her father. I don’t expect to uncover any new facts, but maybe I can provide a different perspective and something will pop out that nobody considered significant at the time. Selfishly, I don’t want the injustice to smear anyone in my son’s family, either.”

  Mary straightened and looked determined. “I’ll tell you what I can. Why don’t you tell me what you already know? That’ll help jog my memory.”

  Edna agreed and looked up at the wall clock. “It’s nearly five. Near enough that I suggest we switch from tea to wine and go sit in the living room. It’s warmed up enough to melt the latest snowfall, but the house feels cold. I think a small fire in the hearth would feel good, don’t you?”

  In full agreement, Mary opened a bottle of merlot while Edna arranged a plate of cheese and crackers. Carrying everything to a more comfortable setting, Edna turned on a couple of table lamps while Mary built a small fire to take the late-afternoon chill from the room. Finally, sitting back in her favorite chair, across the coffee table from where Mary sat on the sofa, Edna began to relay what she’d learned from the Internet and from the people with whom she’d spoken, so far.

  “Gregory had been housebound with the flu in the days leading up to his death. Several people stopped in to visit during that time, and a few brought him food. Apparently, the man didn’t cook for himself, even when he was healthy, but he did seem able to warm things up.” Edna paused to take a sip of wine as she made a mental list of Ha
verstrum’s callers. “Rosie came by twice that week. That seemed strange to me, since their recent separation had not been amicable.”

  “Maybe Rosie went to see him because of Lettie,” Mary suggested. “Did the girl visit her father?”

  “Once, I believe, with her grandmother, apparently against Rosie’s wishes,” Edna said. “That’s what made me wonder about Rosie. She hadn’t wanted her daughter to catch whatever was ailing Gregory, but she could have carried it back and given it to Lettie herself.” Edna was thoughtful for a few seconds before continuing, “Lily accompanied her granddaughter on a first visit and then made a second visit herself the morning before Gregory died.” Almost absently, Edna added, “I wonder how she got along with her son-in-law.”

  Mary shrugged as if the answer didn’t matter. “Who else went to see him?” she asked before taking a sip from her glass and settling more comfortably into the corner of the couch.

  “Let’s see,” said Edna, recalling the news stories. “Farren McCree, whom the reporters referred to as his old mistress. I wonder if they meant ‘former’ or were mocking her because she was quite a few years older than Gregory. Her showing up also surprised me, since rumor was that he’d dumped her to take up with his new office assistant Bobbi Callahan.” At the mention of Farren, Edna remembered what the woman had said and passed it along to Mary. “According to Farren, she was the one who broke off the affair.”

  “She might say that to save face,” Mary opined. “I bet it was Gregory who did the breaking up ‘cause Bobbi’s father was one of Haverstrum’s biggest clients. Duke Callahan got her the job. She was a college sophomore, studying business before she switched her major to education. Mr. Callahan thought practical experience would do her some good. Wonder how he felt when he learned his friend took advantage of the daughter. I seem to remember reporters referred to her as ‘Bobbi Doll’. Can’t imagine he’d been pleased about that, either.”