Dead In Bed Page 3

  Hanging up the phone, he pulled his feet down to the floor and sat up straight. “What are you doing here, Lacey?”

  I tossed him a smile, making it as sweet as I could. “I just thought I’d drop in for a little friendly gossip, Ben. Can’t a girl visit an old friend without him getting suspicious?”

  “Humph,” Ben said, eyeing me closely. “Usually you want something when you stop by.”

  I did my best to look innocent. “What could I possibly want, Ben? I heard you had an interesting morning and thought you might want to talk about it. The Flame was all abuzz this morning. Can’t have a prominent citizen die without people talking about it, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He sent me a shrewd stare. “Sam hired you, didn’t he? Damn! This isn’t anything for you to get mixed up in.”

  I said nothing, but I couldn’t keep the heat from running up my neck to my cheeks. Ben knew me too well. “You know I can’t talk about my clients, Ben.”

  “And I can’t talk about my ongoing investigation, either. Damn it, Lacey, don’t get involved in this. I don’t like it.”

  “Why not? Is it too dangerous for a girl?”

  “Because Sam is playing you for a fool. He wants public sympathy and is using you to help him get it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “People will think he must be innocent if he puts out money to hire you.”

  I frowned, not liking the theory, though I knew it was possible.

  Ben leaned back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head, narrowing his eyes at me. “I’ve got him sure as shootin’. Soon as I get some hard evidence, I’ll put him in that cell back there.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Ben usually didn’t brag. Was he as sure as he wanted me to believe? “Oh, really?”

  “Lacey!” he scolded, looking frustrated.

  “What, Ben?”

  I made my voice sound as innocent as I could. Ben liked to think of me as a youngster, and if it made him happy enough to talk to me, I didn’t mind a bit.

  He sighed. “Sam must have done it. He said Clara was still asleep when he left. Helen said the house and garage were both locked when she arrived. The car had to have been running for awhile to fill the house with enough carbon monoxide to kill her.”

  I nodded. “I suppose. It’s a double garage under the main part of their house, right?”

  “Yes. And his car was running with no keys in it. We couldn’t even shut if off. We had to wait until he got there with his keys. If he didn’t do it, then who started the car?”

  I tried not to let him know he’d just given me new information and frowned at him. “I’m confused, Ben. Don’t you have to shut off a car’s motor to take out the keys? Why would a car keep running after you removed the key? Most don’t, do they?”

  Ben’s head bobbed.

  “I asked Sam that. He said the only way he knew was to use one of those remote starters like he has on his keys.”

  “Remote starters?”

  “You know, a button thing they make, so on a cold morning, you can start your car to warm it up while you stay nice and warm inside, drinking your coffee. He bought it to use at the factory on cold days, because he keeps his car in a heated garage under the house at home.”

  “Oh. Guess I’ve never had that expensive of a car or equipment.” My little red Chevy had only the basic amenities, none of the fancy extras. “So, whoever started the car could have used Sam’s remote to start it?”

  “Yeah. Except we can’t find his remote starter. He says he only had one remote and it was on his set of keys. Clara didn’t have one. So, where are Sam’s keys?”

  “Good question. Clara’s mother had a key to their house, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah. That’s how she got in to find Clara. But she had her own set of keys. Are you suggesting Helen killed her own daughter?”

  I thought of Sam’s red-rimmed eyes and morose expression.

  “Does it make any more sense to say her husband did it? They’re both supposed to love her.”

  “I don’t suppose either theory makes any sense.”

  I turned my lips up sweetly to let him know I was glad he’d agreed. Ben was a good guy, but he had a one track mind. Sometimes, he needed a little push to get him started in the right direction. I wanted him to consider more than the one option he’d apparently chosen so far.

  Ben picked up a cigarette and lit it, even though the building was supposed to be smoke free. He glanced at me defiantly.

  “So sue me. I like to smoke when I’m nervous. And this case is giving me the willies.”

  My laugh came out as a squeaky protest. “I don’t care if you smoke, Ben. You have reason to be upset. We don’t have many murders in this county, do we?”

  “No, and thank God for that.” He waved the cigarette. “Get out of here, Lacey. I know you’re not gonna listen to me, but please be careful.”

  “I will, Ben.” I walked out. The murderer is often a person close to the victim. So why couldn’t that be a mother as well as a husband?

  * * * *

  Clara’s house had yellow crime scene tape strung around it, as I’d known it would. I knew I couldn’t go inside now, though I’d like to have done that, just to get a feel for the way things had happened. I’d have to wait until the police were finished.

  I sat in my little red Chevy, running my gaze over the peaceful neighborhood scene. The one-family framed houses along the block appeared nicely tended. Most of them were either split-level or two stories, with perfectly manicured lawns, shrubs and colorful fall flowers, mostly orange and gold hardy mums, surrounding them.

  Sam and Clara’s was a two story white frame house set back on a large lot, surrounded by evergreens. White rocks surrounded the foundation with small, neatly trimmed shrubs poking up through them at regular intervals. Several hanging planters with bright red Geranium flowers hung from the wide eaves. I wondered if she took them inside at night, since it was now November. We’d had a frost already and only the hardy flowers like mums had survived. The expansive lawn was neatly mowed. Did Sam or Clara do the yard work, or did they hire a gardener or lawn service? If so, did those people have keys to the garage to store their equipment?

  I’d researched the addresses around Sam and Clara’s house, so I had a little information to begin my search for the truth.

  I rang the bell of the neighbor on the left first, since Agnes was the most likely to be home on a weekday morning. Her house was a neat two story, with an outside stairway running up one side, evidently leading to an apartment above her.

  The woman who answered the door was thin, short and elderly, with snow-white hair, sharp blue eyes and a suspicious expression on her face. I was a bit surprised to see she was wearing slacks and sneakers instead of what I thought of as granny clothes. Hmm. Maybe she was a bit more up to date than I’d expected?

  “Good morning. Are you Agnes Melonn?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I’m Lacey Summers. Sam Carter has hired me to look into his wife’s death.”

  “Really? The Lady P.I.? Sam hired you?” She eyed me, but kept the screen door between us.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions about this morning, please.”

  She hesitated, then opened the door. “I suppose that’s okay. But those cops already questioned me, you know.”

  “It won’t take long, I promise,” I said, stepping inside quickly before she changed her mind.

  I followed her into the living room. The room reminded me of my late grandmother’s house. Dark, heavy draperies hung on each side of the windows with sheer white lace curtains between them. White tatted doilies adorned the dark walnut coffee table and matching end tables. A large multicolored crocheted afghan hung over the back of the brown sofa. It was definitely a granny house. I sat on the sofa.

  “Would you like some tea?” Agnes asked, hovering behind me.

  I nodded yes, more to keep her in a friendly mood than because I wanted any.

/>   She disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a tray. To my surprise, she’d brought out glasses of iced tea with a slice of lemon rather than the hot tea I was expecting. I thanked her. Agnes was an odd combination of Victorian and contemporary.

  “Delicious,” I declared.

  “You said you wanted to know about this morning?” Agnes set the tray on the coffee table, picked up her glass and took the large stuffed chair across from me. She looked at me expectantly.

  “Yes. Did you happen to notice anything at Clara’s house early this morning?”

  She nodded. “I heard Sam open the garage door and leave. The door makes so much noise, you can’t help but notice it opening and closing.”

  “I’m sure. What time was that?”

  “About a quarter to seven, same as always. He goes to work the same time every morning. A very nice man, you know. Clara loved him and he loved her. That cop this morning didn’t believe me when I said that, but it’s true.”

  “You liked the Carters?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, very much. I liked both of them. Clara worked hard on some of the same committees I work on. She was a wonderful woman, caring and generous, both with her time and her money.”

  “You knew them both quite well?”

  Agnes crossed her legs and settled herself. “About as well as anyone did, I guess. They had their problems, though, like any other couple. Land sakes, you can’t go through life without having some problems.”

  She eyed me as if to check to see if I was dumb enough to think you could sail smoothly through life.

  I couldn’t help smiling a bit. “No, I don’t suppose anyone does.”

  “Nobody I know anyway. Clara wanted kids but it never happened. Not in God’s plan for them, I suppose.”

  “Maybe so.” I wondered if she knew about Sam’s supposed philandering, but decided not to ask. She might get upset and quit talking. I tried to get her back on track.

  “Did you just hear the garage door, or did you happen to see Sam leave?”

  “I was sitting right here, having my coffee and watching the morning news on TV,” she said. “Just like I always do. I can see him back out of the driveway from here and drive off down the street. He was driving Clara’s car, like I told the officer. I don’t know why he did that.”

  “He said his needed to go into the shop today,” I volunteered, hoping sharing a bit of information would get me on her good side.

  “Oh.” She considered that idea, then wrinkled her lips, revealing perfect white dentures. “That makes sense. Anyway, the tow truck hauled it off a while ago.”

  They took it to the police impound lot for the technicians to go over, I thought, but I didn’t say so. “They drove each other’s cars occasionally, then?”

  She nodded. “Once in a while. Not often, though. Clara was quite proud of her shiny Mercedes. It’s silver, you know. A beauty, it is.”

  “Yes, I know. Did you see anything else this morning?”

  “A couple of runners came by as usual. An older guy around six and a young man around seven. Don’t know their names, but I suppose they live around here somewhere. I don’t know what people get out of running around the neighborhood like that.”

  “It’s supposed to be good for your health. Good exercise,” I said.

  “Humph. I don’t know about that. You hear of athletes dropping dead all the time.”

  Why argue with her? Agnes was not going to listen to anyone else’s opinion anyway. “Did you see anyone else?”

  “Oh, yeah. Helen came around nine or so. Then lots of police cars and an ambulance. I stood right here at the window watching as they carried poor Clara out to the ambulance. They had her on a stretcher, all covered up. I ran out to ask what was happening and Helen told me she was dead.”

  “You talked to Helen then?”

  “Not really. She just stared at me, her face all white; she looked kind of numb. She just said the car was running and Clara was dead. Then that deputy pulled me away from her and put her in the police car. I guess they were going down town to talk, ’cause the house was full of exhaust fumes. They’d opened all the doors and windows by then. The big garage doors, too.”

  “Did you see or talk to anyone else?”

  Agnes picked up a long spoon from the tray and stirred her tea. “A couple of the other neighbors were outside. I saw Mr. Jackson and Minnie Thomas for sure. There were some other people, too, but I don’t know them. Maybe they came with the police or ambulance, or they could have just stopped by. You know how people like to stop and gawk when there’s an ambulance.”

  “Hmm. What about your renter? I understand you rent out the upstairs apartment.”

  “Yes. To Janine Paine. She works at Carter Manufacturing, too.”

  “Was she at home early this morning? At the time all of this happened?”

  Agnes frowned, stirred the slice of lemon around in her tea some more, then took a swallow as though needing time to think about her answer. “I suppose she was. I didn’t see her, though.”

  “Could she have left without you noticing?”

  “No. I always hear her when she walks down the outside stairs. I can’t see who is on the stairs because it goes down the other side of the house to the back and she keeps her car in the extra garage I had built for the renters off the alley out back.”

  “I see.”

  “Her visitors usually park back there, too, I suppose,” she went on. “I can’t see back there, because my garage is in the way, but I hear the footsteps alright. She has lots of company, and it’s a pain having that noise all of the time, but what am I supposed to do? I need the rent.”

  “Of course. Is Janine home now?”

  “I don’t think so.” She met my gaze. “The thing is, I…I can’t remember if she came home last night or not. She sometimes stays out all night. You know how young people are these days. My memory is getting a little undependable. You’d have to check to see if she’s there.”

  I chewed my lip. Was Agnes suddenly having a memory problem on purpose? She’d seemed sharp as a tack before. Or was she hiding something?

  “I’ll do that. Thanks for your help. I appreciate it,” I said, rising and putting out a hand. “If you think of anything else, give me a call. Here’s my card.”

  She nodded, slipping the card into the pocket of her slacks.

  I left, walking up the stairway to Janine’s apartment. No one answered my knock, even after several tries, so I left.

  I glanced over as I walked to my car and saw Agnes watching me from behind her sheer lace curtains. Did she know something she didn’t want to tell me?

  I moved on to talk to the other neighbors. No one answered the door at several houses. Evidently, those residents were at work. The ones Agnes had mentioned were home, but wary of talking to me.

  Mr. Jackson was a stout, retired railroad man who grudgingly talked to me on his doorstep after I mentioned Agnes had seen him outside when they took Clara’s body away.

  “That old bat,” he said, spitting chewing tobacco into his marigolds. “She has to stick her nose in everything around here. Nobody can fart without her reporting it to the rest of the neighborhood.”

  He listed the same people Agnes had as having been in the neighborhood this morning, but he didn’t know their names, either.

  “I saw Janine drive off to work about seven. That’s her usual time to go to work,” he said. “I notice ’cause her car’s noisy. She needs a new muffler. And my front window looks right back to the alley where she backs out of the garage.”

  As he wasn’t in the mood to talk further, I moved on to the next house.

  Minnie Thomas, a small, skinny woman, hadn’t seen anyone the others hadn’t, so she didn’t have anything new to add.

  I did learn a bit more about Agnes. Each of the neighbors made sure I knew Agnes was the neighborhood gossip. I should ‘take anything she said with a large dash of salt’ as Minnie told me, puttin
g contempt into the word, ‘she’.

  Apparently, Agnes made a habit of annoying her neighbors by keeping very close tabs on their comings and goings. I can’t say I blame them for being annoyed. Luckily, living out by the lake, I didn’t have that problem. My house and office are pretty much off by themselves, with only pine trees for sentinels.

  I headed back to my office, disappointed I hadn’t learned anything new about Clara and Sam’s doings that morning.

  * * * *

  Janine Paine walked through Carter Manufacturing’s noisy work area, following the hall to the Carter offices.

  Someday, she’d get a job in the nice end of this building. She ran the computer for Uncle Gus in the shipping department, didn’t she? She could see herself working in the accounting department instead. Maybe even for Wade Burcell.

  She licked her lips in anticipation of that dream. She’d gotten a couple of dates with him, but was getting nowhere. He was still playing hard to get.

  That was hoity-toity Clara’s fault, of course. Janine knew Wade had dated Clara when they’d both lived here back in high school, but they’d parted, both living in other places for years. Then, Clara married Sam even though Wade was back by then, too, and was still in love with her. Maybe Clara had thought she was too good for Wade. Ha.

  Maybe now that Clara was dead, things would be different, Janine hoped. Maybe now Wade would give her a second look. She sure hoped so.

  She opened the office door, showing the stack of invoices to the office gal, Sandra Mekkin. She despised the strait-laced, fussy woman. Sandra was always so neat and prim. Janine wanted to toss a cup of coffee on her to see how she looked messy instead of so tidy.

  Janine forced a smile. “Can I take these in to Wade?”

  Sandra raised an eyebrow. Apparently, she didn’t allow anyone else inside the inner office.

  “Just leave them here on my desk. I’ll take them in later. Wade is out for lunch.”

  “Oh. Okay, thanks.”

  Janine handed over the invoices and hurried off back down the hall to the lunchroom where she knew Wade would be. She couldn’t believe her good luck. She’d tried various times, but never managed to catch Wade in the lunch room while she took her own break. Maybe he didn’t eat there very often. But today, her luck had changed. She’d have lunch with him, and maybe score another date as well.