1 Who Killed My Boss? (6 page)

I certainly didn’t get this personality profile in the few moments I’d known him. This was some good stuff. I tried for more but Marian was finished with her sharing.

She left the kitchen soon afterward when she realized that I was not going to say anything interesting. I waited for the next victim.

Soon Doris walked in, took one look at me and walked out. I felt pretty put out about it, but figured that Marian must have passed the word about my prowess as an interrogator.

There weren’t any evil vibes surrounding anyone in the office, so I decided to take my quest elsewhere. First, I called one of my favorite human confidants to see if he was available for consultation.

He picked up the phone immediately. The sound of his voice always made me smile.

“Pete, Sam.”

“Hi, Sam, what’s up? Something important to talk about?” No bullshitting with Pete. He cut right to the chase. I think he’s the only other one of the siblings who was psychic too, but it’s not something we talked about. I just know that Pete and I have always used shorthand language with each other. We finished thoughts and sentences and sometimes the others felt left out. Of course, like any dysfunctional family, we all finished sentences for each other and talked over each other, but this was different. It was special.

Pete was the head nurse on the cardiac care unit at the hospital. Like me, he had recently returned to Quincy. For a number of years he served as both a priest and a nurse at a mission in Maui. We teased him that being stationed on Maui was kind of defeating the purpose of making the sacrifice to be a missionary. We didn’t tease him too much though, because all of us were able to take a cheap vacation at one time or another, courtesy of Father Brother—Pete’s nickname. For reasons known only to Pete, God, and me, he was on sabbatical and had come home for a while. And he was extremely successful at the job he chose. He had a special compassion for people that was beautiful and rare. He was indeed a great gift to all of us. Of course, we wouldn’t be caught dead saying that to his face.

“Yeah, it is important. Are you free? Can we get together?”

We made arrangements to meet in a half hour at The Dairy, a favorite family gathering place. The location was ideal, as it was between our family home, the church, and elementary school. Besides, it had a table big enough to accommodate all of us.

I arrived twenty-five minutes later and met Pete as he was walking in the door. After a quick hug, we moved to our favorite table even though there were only two of us today.

Pete’s Irish cable-knit sweater, worn over a green turtleneck, complemented his curly blonde hair. He had a great profile too; one of the few who didn’t inherit the family pug nose. Females in town called him “Father What-a-Waste.”

Marge, the waitress, nodded and we knew she’d bring over two black cows—the Midwest equivalent of a root beer float.

“What’s up?” he asked. As usual, Pete didn’t waste time.

I really loved this man. When he was born, he’d already had a glow about him that had not diminished. As a seven-year-old I had remarked upon the glow. Well-meaning aunts quizzed me about it. They thought I was either hallucinating or having religious visions, neither of which was acceptable in their view. They would have preferred the religious visions, but even that would have raised eyebrows. So I stopped remarking on the things I saw and felt. Mom and Dad knew, or suspected. I think Mom may have had a bit of the “feeling” herself. Or at least I like to think she did.

“I need to talk over some things. My boss was murdered yesterday.” I waited for an exclamation of surprise and was disappointed when it didn’t appear. I had forgotten that the murder had happened over twenty-four hours ago. I hadn’t seen a newspaper or listened to the news. Surely people as far away as Marblehead, a distance of six miles, knew and also probably knew who did it. Well, doggone it. I didn’t know who did it. And I wanted to prove everyone else wrong.

“Gwen didn’t do it, Pete.”

“If you say so, Gwen didn’t do it. Now let’s talk about who might have killed your boss.”

And we set to work.

SIX

P
ete and I talked
for a long time, but we didn’t come up with any likely suspects. I knew it was time to stop when we started giggling over probable candidates like the butler, the upstairs maid, our sister Jill, Butthead, and Dr. Burns himself. We said goodbye and made plans to get together soon to continue the discussion. I knew I could count on Pete to keep things hush-hush. I certainly didn’t want Ed and Rob to find out I was working on the case. And, above all, B.H. could not know. My greatest thrill would be to solve the case, give some credit to my brother, Rob, and leave B.H. in the dust.

My hostility toward B.H. was probably juvenile, and I even felt guilty about it, but I wasn’t ready to give it up. He’d broken my heart.

I arrived home a few moments later to an angry dog. Over my profuse apologies, she got her leash and then waited impatiently for me to check my messages before we left for the walk. I had one message. From Michael O’Dear, asking if I’d go out to dinner with him on Friday. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. At the end of his message he asked if I had heard that Gwen Schneider had killed Dr. Burns. He sounded smug. But he didn’t have the knowledge I had. I knew she didn’t do it. I knew it for a fact, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Of course I had no proof, but I wasn’t going to let a small thing like that stand in my way. I just needed to find the killer.

I called Michael’s number immediately, told his machine that Friday would be fine, and that I’d be ready at seven. It was hard sounding sophisticated while doing a happy dance around my living room.

I smiled at Clancy as I tried to make up with her. She is my significant other and I couldn’t afford to have her mad at me. She finally gave me one of her “okay, you’re only human” looks and handed her leash to me. I accepted it gratefully and we headed for the park.

This part of the city had a lot of parks. In fact, many of the lawns were large enough to qualify as well. I put myself on automatic pilot and concentrated on the case. I had never met Mrs. Burns but planned to see her at the funeral home. Other staff told me she was a nice lady, but they said it in a way that seemed they didn’t quite mean it. I also heard she was a beauty and quite a bit younger than the doctor. I was anxious to meet the woman who had been married to the enigmatic Dr. Burns.

Clancy and I walked for over an hour and both of us got nice and sweaty. That felt great while the blood was still pumping, but it soon chilled me to the bone. I wanted to hurry into the carriage house, but saw Mrs. Granville’s curtains move as I started to pass.

“Oh, shit, Clancy, she saw us. Act sick, so I have an excuse not to talk long.” Clancy immediately obliged and hung her head as she stuck out her tongue.

“Oh, Ms. Darling, may I speak to you a minute?”

Smiling my phoniest smile, I approached her verandah. Other people would have called it a porch, but to Mrs. Granville it was, and would always be, a verandah.

Georgianne Granville had on her usual evening attire: a quilted bathrobe, pink fuzzy slippers, and pink plastic curlers that were covered by a diaphanous scarf-like apparatus. With all her money, I wondered why she didn’t have better taste in at-home loungewear. She pulled herself up to her full 4’10” and spoke to me as if she were Queen Elizabeth II on her balcony.

“Ms. Darling, I saw a man looking around the carriage house today while you were gone. I hope you don’t plan to have people lollygagging around while you are engaged elsewhere.”

“No, Georgianne. My plans don’t include the lollygagging of people around my house. Did you see what he looked like?”

“Well, I wasn’t really looking.” She couldn’t see me roll my eyes in the dark. “But he appeared about twenty-five to twenty-eight, dark hair, a little shaggy around the ears, he had on a brown corduroy jacket with the patches on the elbows. So outré, don’t you think? And he was looking very suspicious. But as I said, I really didn’t get a good look.”

That didn’t describe any of my brothers, Michael O’Dear, or B.H. Lansing. Aha, as they say, the plot thickens.

“Well thanks for telling me. By the way, how is Gus today?”

“He is still very ill and unable to have visitors.”

Just then a booming voice echoed out of the open door, “Sam, is that you? Come in here and see me, girl.”

Ignoring Georgianne’s grimace of distaste, Clancy and I both bounded up the stairs and into what Georgianne called the parlor. Lying on the couch was one of the nicest men ever to grace this earth. Unfortunately, he probably wasn’t going to be gracing it much longer. I thought he would probably live a long and healthy life if it weren’t for his wife. But maybe that’s too cruel. Some people enjoy sparring with their partner, it keeps them lively. I know I enjoyed it too, until I discovered that my husband was sparring with someone else at the same time. Sparring outside of marriage was against my personal belief system.

What Georgianne knew and didn’t like was that I had known Gus for many years, ever since I was in elementary school. I had been brave enough to not only walk past the rich people’s houses, but also to dawdle a bit. One day, I came upon a gardener, working in a flowerbed at the Granville’s. He was singing WWI and WWII era songs in a booming baritone. I joined in. He was surprised that someone my age would know these songs. I later told him how my mom had taught me songs from her youth and from her own mother’s youth.

I began helping Gus the gardener nearly every day after school and he taught me many more songs. It was fun singing and playing in the dirt. I’d run home right after school and change into my blue jeans. Gus always wore overalls. In the summer he wore an undershirt and the other seasons he wore comfortable old flannel shirts. I began asking him questions about the rich people who lived there. He told me that money wasn’t everything. And I said I wouldn’t know, never having had any. So he started paying me a quarter every time I helped. Eventually he revealed himself to me as Gus Granville, the owner of the home. Well, actually he said his wife owned it and she let him live there. With that, he laughed the loudest, most beautiful laugh I’d ever heard. He laughed until he cried. I did too, although I didn’t know what I was laughing at.

I kept in touch with Gus over the years, stopping by whenever I was in Quincy. He cherished pictures of my kids, attended their baptisms, and grieved with me over the death of my parents. He grieved again with me when my husband left. Other than my family and Clancy, Gus was the best friend I’d ever had. When I returned to Quincy, I bunked with Jen and her brood for a few weeks while I looked around for a place to rent. When Gus found out I was looking, his eyes twinkled and he said he had just the place for me. He put on his overcoat and boots and took me out back to the carriage house. Like a proud artist, he pointed at it, wanting me to love it as he did.

“Don’t tell the Missus I told you this, but we’ve had a few spats over the years. When we were young I decided I didn’t want to get mad and leave, but I needed a space to call my own. So I converted the carriage house into an apartment. Lately, I haven’t felt the need or the energy to use it, so it’s empty and would be perfect for you. Please take it.”

I said “yes” without even looking at it. Knowing it would bring such joy to Gus and such agony to Georgianne were enough reasons for me. When I went inside, I knew my instincts were correct. There was a small kitchen downstairs, with a nice sized living room, small dining room, and large master bedroom and bath. Upstairs were two small bedrooms and another bath. It was just what I wanted and needed. There was room for the kids when they came home from school, but my personal living space was all on one floor. I moved in the next day, converting the dining room into my office. My brothers and sisters were huffing and puffing, but we got the job done. I was very happy in my new home and even happier with one half of my landlord couple.

When I tuned back in to the conversation, Georgianne sniffed her distaste and continued a diatribe already in progress, “…‌I insist. Please take your animal outside and tie it up. We cannot have animal dander in the house. My husband is ill and his breathing will be compromised. Surely you don’t want to be responsible…”

Gus interrupted, “Leave the girl alone, Georgie. Go ahead, Sam, tell me what’s up.”

Georgie? I managed to avoid a fit of the giggles and went on. “It was really something. No sooner had I started my new job, than Dr. Burns was killed. I was still in the personnel office filling out forms when I heard the scream.”

Gus responded that he’d heard details from his neighbors already. “I probably knew almost as soon as you did,” he chuckled.

I asked him if he had known Dr. Burns well.

Gus sat up so I could join him on the couch. “I wouldn’t say I knew him well. I did know him for a lot of years. Hell, this is a small community and we lived in the same general neighborhood.”

“Did you like him?”

Gus laughed again. “I didn’t care much for the old fart,” he became serious, “but I’m sorry he was killed.”

“Please don’t use such vulgarities.” Georgianne reminded us she was still around. “I’m sure you can convey your meaning in a more refined manner.”

“Sure, honey.” Gus said to his wife, and then turned toward me again, “I didn’t care much for the old bastard, but I’m sorry he was killed.”

He cocked his head to look at his wife, “Is that better?”

That did it. The laugh that I’d been able to suppress finally forcibly exploded. “’Scuse me.”

Gus smiled and Georgianne pouted. I liked that.

I asked Gus if I could bounce some ideas off him. He brightened up.

“Sure. I’m bored stiff cooped up in this house all the time.”

“Okay, here’s what I want to know. Even though you don’t get out much I know people visit you all the time. So do you know if anyone hated Dr. Burns?”

Gus laughed. “If anyone hated him? Hell, it’d be easier to list the people who didn’t hate him. There weren’t many of those.”