Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

I hurried to the door of the boys’ trailer, my steps quickened by uneasiness. Or maybe fear. A sleepy-looking LJ pulled open the door, running his hands over hair that seemed to have a life of its own this morning.

‘Good morning, LJ,’ I said briskly, stepping around him and into the living room. ‘Is Derek up yet?’

Still on silent mode, LJ just shook his head. I tell you – conversing with this guy was sometimes akin to that old game ‘Charades’, where one person mimes the answer.

‘OK,’ I said slowly, as if the speed of words would make a difference, ‘will he be up soon? We want you two to come down for a chat and some lunch, around eleven, all right?’

LJ nodded. Well, at least I had managed to convey the invitation and gotten an RSVP of sorts. I turned to leave.

‘Oh, LJ?’ An elevated eyebrow from him, indicating that he was listening. ‘When I leave, make sure that no one is following me, OK?’

Both eyebrows went skyward at that comment.

With that, I left, glancing quickly at the tree line where I was sure Julian Sweet had been standing. There was nothing there now but shadows of varying darkness.

The return trip to our trailer was a bit swifter than it had been when I first started out, full of morning sunshine and the promise of a better day. I made sure to modify my face before I walked in, knowing that the radar abilities of Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda were nothing short of miraculous.

It didn’t work.

As if on a swivel, both sisters-in-law turned their heads toward me and gave me a penetrating, Superman-strength stare as I entered the living room. How did one get that sort of talent, I wondered, as I tried to stroll casually into the kitchen for a glass of water. Nothing doing: they were hot on my tracks.

‘OK, OK! I give.’ I raised my hands in mock surrender at the two older women, standing shoulder to shoulder – actually, standing shoulder to ribcage because Miss Bea was so short – waiting to hear what I had to say. And I knew they weren’t thinking about the boys either.

‘I’m pretty sure I saw someone,’ I began, not giving the name, out of sheer orneriness.

Miss Lucinda and Miss Bea’s eyebrows rose in concert. I sighed.

‘I think it was Julian Sweet.’ There. I’d given up the information they had come for without much of a battle. I’m telling you: Those two could train the CIA in how to interrogate.

‘And what was it about him that’s got you all in a twist?’ Miss Lucinda, never one for mincing words, spoke first.

‘Er, it’s just that – well, he was
staring
at me, Miss Lucinda.’ Well,
that
sure sounded menacing, I thought. I attempted to explain. ‘It was just weird, you know? Here I’d been talking about him with Officer Kingsley, and snap! There he is.’

Miss Bea spoke slowly, head tilted sparrow-style. ‘Was he here to visit someone, perhaps? Maybe was on his way to see Derek or LJ?’

That gave me a start. I hadn’t even considered that angle. And I didn’t like it.

‘I hope not! What in the world would he want with them? I mean, we haven’t heard squat from him since Josie … since we found Josie, and I can’t imagine what he’d need to say to either of them.’

I took a big gulp from my glass of water, managing to spill some down my sweat-soaked T-shirt.

The spilled drink reminded me of Officer Kingsley’s own mishap last night, which in turn reminded me of our directive: find a motive for Julian’s involvement, if any.

I set the glass down, reaching for a towel to mop up my mess.

Turning toward Miss Bea, I said, ‘I think that we should take a closer look at Julian Sweet, I really do. Like I told Officer K last night, the way he just appeared and disappeared the night that Josie was killed – that’s too bizarre not to mean something, don’t you think?’

Miss Lucinda pursed her lips, thinking. I noticed that a few English muffin crumbs had attached themselves to the corners of her mouth.

‘Well, now. That may be worth considering, Jo,’ she acquiesced. ‘Do you have anything particular in mind?’

I did.

When we had all gathered in the living room following a quick lunch, boys included, I put forward my ideas for the group’s consideration. For one thing, as I pointed out, ‘it’s too obvious for Andy and Skinny Joe to be in on this.’

‘True, but remember Joe’s odd behavior following Josie’s murder,’ Derek objected.

‘OK, I’ll give you that. Especially since I’m the one who brought that particular gem to your attention, Derek. But really,’ I continued, ‘would you behave like that, if you were the killer?’

‘Yes,’ he responded promptly. ‘I might want to be sure I hadn’t left anything behind that could tie me to anything.’

‘That’s just my point,’ I replied. ‘That’s too obvious a move. I don’t think Skinny Joe had anything to do with the killing. I propose we begin with finding out where he was when Lily was killed. Officer Kingsley said that they should have a timeframe for her death sometime this afternoon. I’ll give her a call and we’ll go from there. Agreed?’ I looked around the room at my
compadres
. There were no objections, so on I went.

‘The next thing we need to consider is what, if any, motive anyone may have had for either killing. I mean, unless it was really a spur of the moment, mad-passion act, there had to be a reason.’

Leslie raised her hand, exuding ‘perfect student’.

I wanted to point to her and say, ‘Yes, Leslie?’ I kept it to a chin jerk in her direction.

‘Have you given any thought to why anyone, say Julian, might want to kill either of those girls? Don’t you think that it would have to be someone who knew both of them fairly well?’

I considered that for a moment.

‘Yes, I do, but I don’t.’ Total blank stares from five faces. ‘What I mean is this: suppose Josie was killed for what she knew, and then Lily was killed for witnessing it, or telling the killer that she knew he’d done it. Think about the way she was …’

I couldn’t go any further with that thought. Leslie and Derek’s faces paled and I found myself swallowing hard.

‘Yes, I think I see what you’re saying, Jo,’ Miss Bea acknowledged. ‘It would certainly indicate that maybe Lily had said something that she shouldn’t have, perhaps threatened to let the cat out of the bag.’

I nodded. That’s what I was trying to say.

‘We should be focusing on who would have been afraid Lily might talk, who seemed nervous around her. That’s going to be a little tough concerning Julian, especially since he’s been virtually invisible since last week.’ I looked at Derek and LJ. ‘If I remember right, all three of those guys – Andy, Julian, and Bert – worked at some casino around here. You two see if you can find out which one, OK?’ They nodded in unison. ‘Leslie, you and I can make a few calls, find out how Lily knew Josie, that kind of thing. Come to think of it,’ I added, ‘Oleta McLaughlin will probably be a good resource.’

Leslie laughed. ‘I remember how much information she had on Josie. She’ll probably know more about folks around here than people who actually live in Manchester.’

I had to agree. Oleta McLaughlin sounded like a
bona fide
member of the Manchester Gossip Chain.

With Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda holding down the fort, the rest of us dispersed to our assignments. Leslie and I walked down toward the manager’s office, enjoying the beautiful day and each other’s company. We had become, for lack of a better word, like camp roomies; being with Becklaw’s Murder Mystery Tour felt like one long camp adventure.

Except for the two murders, of course. Real camps didn’t have anything like that. And movie camps didn’t count.

Percy and Oleta were both at home, she bent over a ledger laid out on her desk and he sitting cross-legged on a deep leather chair, reading the paper and whistling under his breath. They both looked up and smiled at us.

‘Good morning, good morning!’ Oleta’s plump face nearly outdid itself in welcome. I thought she was still trying to dispel that first encounter we’d had. She glanced up at a clock. ‘Oops. Guess it’s actually ‘good afternoon’, isn’t it?’

Percy stood to his feet, long legs unfolding beneath him. ‘Can I get you two young ladies coffee? Oleta made a fresh pot not too long ago.’

I briefly wondered what an ‘unfresh’ pot would taste like, but I kept my answer to a ‘Yes, please.’

Armed with cups of coffee strong enough to walk around on their own, Leslie and I chatted about this and that, finally steering the conversation around to Lily and Josie and what might have possibly connected the two. It was like throwing a bone to a starving dog.

Oleta’s wealth of local knowledge far surpassed my expectations. She had a solid grasp on who was married to whom, which families had ‘issues’ – her word – and what made old Mrs Petty down at the grocery store just about come unglued.

‘And I do mean that, girls. You should’ve seen her face! Oh, my – I thought the world was coming to an end.’ Oleta paused for breath. That was fortuitous. It gave me time to catch up to her train of thought, which was traveling at light speed on the Manchester Information Railroad.

‘So, is there anything that might have made someone upset at the two of them? Something bad enough to get them, you know … killed?’ Leslie gulped, her face showing a little of the panic from the day before.

Thankfully, Oleta didn’t notice the reticence in Leslie’s tone. She was still focused on the delivery of local news and forged ahead.

‘Well, I don’t know if you’d call it bad enough to get killed over, but I do know that Josie was dating Andy, who’s Lily’s cousin, and Lily was none too happy about that little arrangement. In fact,’ she added with a sly grin, ‘I do know that the weekend before last, a bunch of them were at the casino, and something made Andy get so mad at Lily that he wasn’t even speaking to her.’

I stared at her. ‘What do you mean, Andy was mad at Lily? And how would you know that?’ Her participation in the local gossip chain must be more than just ‘bearer of news’; she must have achieved ‘Captain’ status.

‘My niece Jess, the one whose husband delivers all the beer to the casinos? Well, she heard from him that Andy and Lily were really going at each other in the parking lot that night. Seems she was furious over something she’d overheard, and I just put two and two together and got Josie.’ She smiled triumphantly.

Well. That was certainly a motive, I thought. Maybe we should take a look at dear Andy. I communicated my thoughts to Leslie via telepathy, or at least I tried. She didn’t look my way, but I could see her shifting in her seat a bit. Maybe she was thinking along the same lines.

I stood to my feet, draining the last of my very strong coffee and managing to keep my face from screwing up at the bitter taste. Leslie followed suit, and we politely thanked the McLaughlins for their time.

‘Any time, my dears, any time. It does get a bit monotonous with just me and Percy.’ Oleta gave her husband a fond smile which he didn’t see; he had barricaded himself behind the safety of the paper at the first onslaught of gossip.

We walked back to the trailer, me in silence, trying to organize my thoughts, and Leslie gently humming under her breath. I was glad to hear it. She had taken a pretty big blow, emotionally-speaking, yesterday.

We found Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda in the kitchen, working in unison over a large pan of rolled cookies. They were bent over the dough, adding sprinkles of colored sugar and slivered almonds to the tops of the cookies. The entire pan looked as festive as an Easter basket.

‘Hello, girls,’ smiled Miss Bea. She paused to wipe her hands on the apron that encompassed her ample waist. ‘How did the gossip session go?’ Her hair had gone to new heights in frizz, probably from the heat in the kitchen.

I laughed. It was indeed a gossip session
extraordinaire
.

They had taken the station wagon and driven off to Whispering Stick Hotel and Casino, bent on gathering information on the trio of bit-parters who had joined us in Manchester.

Miss Lucinda, using the back of her dough-covered hand to move some hair out of her face, straightened up, issuing a small groan.

‘That Oleta McLaughlin struck me as a bad person to tell a secret to, that’s for sure. What’d she tell you girls?’

‘Well, she seems to think that something happened to make Lily and Andy fall out, probably over Josie. I’m still trying to work out how that could have led to murder, though.’ I sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, stretching my legs out and sighing. Gossip was tiring.

Leslie pulled out the other seat. ‘I think,’ she said, ‘it’s possible Lily told Andy something about Josie, maybe that she was dating someone else as well, and he got mad at her for telling and Josie for doing.’

I considered that. It certainly sounded feasible.

‘How about this.’ Miss Bea carried the finished pan over to the oven and popped it inside, setting the timer. ‘What if Andy killed Josie accidentally, and then Lily tried to blackmail him, so he had to kill her as well?’

OK. We were making progress in the motive department, I thought.

‘I want to talk to LJ and Derek and see if they were able to talk to any of the three today,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should give sleuthing a break for now until they get home.’

The others agreed, and we spent the rest of the afternoon rolling out dough, cutting out cookies in fanciful shapes, and doing a lot of quality assurance tests. Someone had to try them out, didn’t they?

Chapter Twenty-three

Eventually we heard the thrum of the station wagon’s motor as it pulled next to the trailer. Two doors slammed shut, and two pairs of footsteps made their way up the steps and into the living room.

‘We’re back!’

I had to grin to myself. Somehow we’d all fallen into a family-like rhythm, retreating into long-ago childhood roles. Well, it suited me. I guess I was missing my own clan more than I cared to admit, and my substitute family helped a lot with homesickness.

‘We’re in the kitchen,’ I called over my shoulder. Derek and LJ walked into the room, sniffing the air like two foraging animals.

‘Umm! What smells so good?’ Derek asked as he rescued two iced cookies that threaten to topple from the tall pile in the center of the table.

‘Me,’ I said saucily, tossing a cookie at LJ, who caught it in his massive hands.

‘Oh, hardee har har, Jo,’ returned Derek, his words muffled in a huge swallow.

‘How was the hunt, boys?’ inquired Miss Lucinda, expertly stacking more cookies on the pile. ‘Learn anything good?’

‘Maybe.’ Derek took another large bite of cookie, dropping crumbs down the front of his shirt. He licked one finger and swiped at them, earning an eye roll from me.

Boys, I thought. You just can’t take them anywhere.

The four of us – and LJ – gave him our full attention. What I got out of his spiel was this:

Andy and Bert had been good friends from kindergarten straight through to high school, and Julian joined them in their junior year at Manchester High. Andy and Bert’s lives were pretty much an open book in the area, having been born and bred there. Not much was known about Julian’s background, other than that his dad wasn’t in the picture and his mother had passed away two years before. The trio had worked together at the casino for the past three years, and recently most folks had noticed that Julian had been keeping to himself. Other than that, the three guys seemed to be fairly normal, not the murdering kind.

We sat silent, digesting both the information and the cookies. I glanced at the plate. At the rate they were disappearing, none of us were going to have much appetite for real food this evening.

‘OK.’ I said. ‘I’ve got a great idea, everyone. How about a Becklaw group visit to Whispering Stick Hotel and Casino for an evening of fun? And, hopefully, get more info on Andy.’ I looked around the kitchen. ‘Well?’

‘I’m up for it,’ spoke up Miss Lucinda. ‘And I heard they’ve got an awesome buffet up there, too.’

Trust Miss Lucinda to bring food into it. That woman could out-eat anyone.

No one else said anything, so I smiled brightly at Miss Lucinda and said, ‘Sounds like we’ve got a date. What time should we leave?’

‘I think I want to go, too,’ Leslie spoke up. LJ nodded as well, no surprise there. Derek shrugged but nodded. He was in.

Miss Bea sighed. ‘I really don’t like casinos,’ she said. ‘But I’m not staying home alone. So I guess I’ll go too. Let’s leave around five-thirty.’

I’m always a sucker for a field trip. Remember those visits to the local zoo or museum when you were a kid and every day was an adventure? That’s exactly how I was feeling as I went to my room to lie down for a bit. I had a sixth sense that something would turn up this evening that would point us in the right direction.

We loaded up the wagon promptly at five-thirty, ready to party and eat buffet until we popped. Derek drove, telling us about the casino’s layout, the different areas for gaming, and the large poker room.

‘You’re gonna love it, Miss Bea,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘It’s got one room that’s decorated in nothing but old movie star posters.’ I sincerely hoped that this was a nod to her tastes and not to her age.

We pulled up into a spacious parking lot that was more than halfway filled with vehicles of every description, from fancy sedans to trucks sporting campers, the windows plastered with hunting decals. Derek slotted the station wagon between a Volkswagen Beetle, adorned with a bumper sticker that read ‘My other car is a sewing machine’, and a low-slung Mini Cooper, its exterior a shiny red. Next to them, the station wagon looked like a lumbering beast.

With Derek and LJ leading the way, we paraded into the main lobby of the casino.

It was amazing. The ceiling rose to a peak above us in a cathedral-like design, chandeliers hanging like so many twinkling stars far above our heads. The walls were just as impressive, covered in murals depicting the majesty of the Colorado landscape. Here and there among the painted trees, I spotted eyes staring out at me. I shuddered. I didn’t think that I’d ever feel the same about animals again, especially not those in the small category.

After a few minutes of tourist-like gaping we made our way to the buffet area. A strong aroma of garlic met us at the door, assuring us that ‘Italian Night’ was in full swing. Winding our way over to the line, we each grabbed a tray and got ready to plow through the many choices. I stood between Miss Bea and Derek, she looking eagerly over my shoulder and he already taking a roll from the basket that sat nearest the silverware caddies. Well. This would be a gastronomical adventure. And I was ready to meet the challenge.

Two plates, three desserts, and one very large glass of iced tea later, I succumbed. Further down the table, I saw Miss Lucinda, she of the cast-iron stomach, also in a state of surrender, rummaging through her voluminous purse. She was probably looking for antacid tablets.

I was right. She was popping the chalky pink tabs like after-dinner mints.

Finally dinner was over, at least for the Becklaw bunch. We staggered to our collective feet and retraced our, steps out to the main lobby. I had retained leader status,
à la
Miss Jo of the Wild West, and I made an executive decision: we would go in pairs and look for Bert, Andy, and Julian. I teamed up with Miss Lucinda, and we set off, our eyes peeled for Andy.

I had an idea that he would be among the gaming tables somewhere, recalling that Skinny Joe had mentioned something about dealing cards. With Miss Lucinda looking right and me looking left, we casually circled the casino floor, our tourist faces firmly in place. I finally spotted him near the back of the room, running the roulette table.

He kept up a stream of professional patter with the folks gathered around the wheel, keeping them loose enough to throw more chips on the table. I had to admire his easy manner; he wasn’t uptight, like someone who had just committed two murders should be.

As he leaned over to give the wheel a spin, I caught his eye and waggled my fingers at him. He managed to control his facial expression, but I could see the muscles around his jaw tighten. He was not happy to see me.

We waited until the current game was over and sauntered to the table, slipping onto a pair of high-backed stools. Andy continued to fiddle with the wheel, acting as though we weren’t there.

‘Hiya, Andy,’ I said brightly. ‘It’s a lovely evening. And I simply adore what they’ve done to this place! So cosmopolitan, you know?’ I was getting to him.

He glared at me, giving me a once-over that was not in the least bit friendly. Or flattering.

‘What? I’m busy here, in case you didn’t notice.’ His words were clipped off as clean as a knife’s edge, and I forced myself to hold his gaze.

‘Why, we just wanted to take a look at your casino, being visitors to the area and all,’ I returned, ramping up the wattage of my smile. ‘And to have a wee chat, if you don’t mind.’

‘I do mind; now scram before I call Security.’ He stood to his feet, scanning the room as though looking for backup.

‘Sit down, young man,’ barked Miss Lucinda in her best school teacher voice. Andy sat. I really need to perfect that tone.

Without much persuasion, Andy began to tell us what we wanted know: yes, he had dated Josie – exclusively, he’d thought, until Lily had opened her trap. No, he did not get mad enough to kill either one of them. He had no idea who would have, either.

‘The only time the two of them were together, beside the acting thing, was when we all came here to the casino on ’80s Night.’

‘Who’s “we”?’ I asked, that familiar feeling starting to creep up my spine.

‘Well, there was me, and Josie. Bert and Lily. Julian was there, and someone else who’s name I don’t recall. That’s about it.’ He looked at me. ‘Now if that’s it, I need to get back to work. My boss keeps looking over here.’

I had a feeling that there was more, something he knew. Maybe even something he didn’t even realize he knew. I stalled, hoping to come up with the right question.

‘What were you all talking about?’ I asked, noting the incoming pit boss off to my right. We had to hurry.

‘Just about the robbery.’ Andy sounded casual, but he had seen his boss’s approach as well. He started fiddling with the cards.

‘What robbery?’ This was something, all right.

‘Well, not really a robbery, as such – just that someone had been skimming money out of the night deposits. We were teasing each other, and Julian was getting huffy.’

The pit boss, a large man sporting a handlebar moustache and a ring on every finger, stood silently over Andy, arms folded and a frown on his face.

‘Good evening, Marc,’ Andy said. ‘They were just leaving.’

We got up and moved off, my mind still on Andy’s last words. Julian had gotten mad over the teasing. In my experience with all of my brothers, the one who got the angriest was the one who had something to hide.

Julian
had gotten mad. Now we were heading someplace.

We met as planned by the front door. I was quiet, turning a few ideas over in my head. The others were chatting about the games and the clients, exclaiming over the old man who had hit the double jackpot on a nickel slot machine. In his excitement, at least twenty dollars’ worth of shiny five cent pieces had bounced on the floor at his feet, giving him the appearance of sinking in silver quicksand. Apparently, only Andy had been scheduled to work this night, so no joy with contacting Bert or Julian. The other four weren’t complaining; they’d had a blast.

With Derek piloting us home, we arrived at the KOA just after eleven o’clock. I was tired. Miss Bea had already nodded off, and even LJ’s massive head drooped a bit. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep, though, not right away. Too many scenarios were playing out in my mind, with Julian Sweet in the leading role.

Well, when in a quandary, look to Crazy Great-Aunt Opal for advice. The gem I came up with this time was this: “A good question is half the answer.”

My problem was articulating the question.