Appraisal for Murder (29 page)
Then she was furious. “You could have been killed! What would I tell your mother?”
“Yeah, now I have to tell her,” I said, realizing I was in for one hell of a tongue lashing. It only takes two seconds for my parents to make me feel like I’m five years old.
Sgt. Morehouse came back in. “You’re in luck,” he said to me.
“This is luck?” I was starting to come to my full senses, which is not always a good thing.
“Mrs. Jasper says you and her were there to look at jewelry, but Pedone said he overheard a conversation between you and her.” Morehouse grinned. “He says he’s willing to tell us about it if we take it into consideration when we prosecute him.”
I was actually going to be in debt to Pedone.
Who knew?
“So, what did happen before we saw you?” Morehouse asked.
I told him about my theory, and that Michael had agreed to help me find out if there was any substance to it, but he’d been called out of town and I didn’t want to wait for his return. As Aunt Madge made tutting and gasping noises, I relayed everything through arriving at the top of the steps. “It wasn’t until after we started down that I kind of wondered why she wanted the railing. She’s pretty spry.”
Morehouse thought about this. “Probably just gave her better leverage to push you.”
“But why?” Aunt Madge asked.
“Jolie would be dead, or so she hoped, and Pedone didn’t really have a beef with Jasper. That’s my guess, but we may never know. She’s insisting they were just there to look at jewelry and crying about Ruth Riordan being her best friend.”
“I’m surprised she told me the whole story.” I said this as much to myself as the others.
Morehouse shrugged. “I doubt she would have owned up to it if you brought her to me. It would have been her word against yours, and where was the proof?”
“She got me this coat,” Scoobie said, and we all turned to look at his second-hand pea jacket. “Why would she do that, and then kill somebody?”
“People are complex,” Aunt Madge said, gently. “It’s rare you meet someone who is all good or all bad.”
“In my book, she’s just a plain thug with a motive,” Morehouse said. “A pretty sick one,” he added.
THE HOSPITAL KEPT ME overnight to monitor my blood pressure and make sure I didn’t have a concussion. This was fine by me, as I was having trouble maneuvering my arm in the sling I was supposed to wear for a couple of days. I also figured it would be good to let Aunt Madge have a night to get over being so mad at me.
Contrary to conventional wisdom, the hospital food was not bad, and the next morning I was trying to butter my toast with one hand when the door to the room pushed open. Ramona looked windswept, her long, blonde hair loose and a deep purple cape over her shoulders. “Jolie!” She stood and stared at me.
“Could you do this?” I shoved the toast toward her.
“Okay.” She dropped a small notebook on my bed and started to work on the toast. “I was on the boardwalk on the way to my walk, and Joe Regan hollered at me. He had the paper.”
George Winters. I hoped he had the decency not to come to the hospital. “Damn.” I chewed hungrily on the toast. “So, everybody knows?”
“They know some guy got shot at the Riordans', and you ended up in here.” She wiped her hands on my napkin. “But there’s not a lot of why. Where was Michael?”
Michael. Aunt Madge’s anger was nothing compared to what his was going to be. “He had to go to DC on business.”
“Ooh, and you must have a key. That’ll fry Jennifer.”
I laughed, really laughed. “You can tell her she has nothing to worry about.”
This interested her more than the story of what had happened last night. “Really? She’ll be glad to hear that.” She reached for the small notebook. “Every day I write down the saying I put on the board. Do you want to borrow it?”
“That’s so kind.” I had enough of them when I read the board. “I might forget it here. Can I read it later, at the store or something?”
“We’ll have supper some night.” She stood. “I can’t be late for work. I’m opening the store.”
She bent over and kissed me, and I thanked her for coming. “Maybe you, me and Scoobie,” I said.
She pulled the curtain back to let in sunshine, and added, “Roland was in Java Jolt. He said to tell you Elsie Hammer’s going to stay with them for a few days, until she finds another place to live.” Ramona looked at me, perhaps expecting a comment on how I knew Elsie well enough for Roland to send that message.
“That’s good,” I said, my mouth full of toast.
AUNT MADGE CAME TO collect me, as she said, about ten a.m. “I was going to come an hour ago, but between the phone and Jazz, I couldn’t get out of the house.”
“Jazz. What’s wrong with her?” This concerned me much more than my shoulder.
“I suppose she’s upset because you aren’t home. She’s been chasing the dogs all over the kitchen and my sitting room.”
“Don’t you mean the dogs are chasing her?” I asked.
“I wish I did. I can make them stop.” She paused in collecting my clothes from a closet. “It took me fifteen minutes to catch her, and then I only did because I opened a can of tuna.”
I would have paid to see this, but did not say this aloud. “I’m sorry, Aunt Madge.”
“Tuna’s cheap,” she said.
“No, I mean about worrying you, and all.”
She was taking my clothes out of the tiny closet, and turned to face me. “You’ve always been headstrong. I suppose that’s why it’s hard for you and your mother sometimes.” She paused and then smiled, but there was a wicked twist to it. “But if you do anything like this again, I’ll make your mother look docile.”
THE FLOWERS FROM MICHAEL arrived in the early afternoon. All the note said was, “You owe me stairway carpeting.” Aunt Madge thought this was warped, but I was pleased that he had a sense of humor about what had happened.
Though I didn’t think I owned a muscle or joint that wasn’t sore, I knew I’d been lucky. As Scoobie said when he visited late in the day, if I’d landed on my head a clam would have more mobility than I did.
I was lying on the couch sipping tea after dinner when Michael arrived. Aunt Madge decided she needed more orange juice for her breakfast guests, which I knew was a lie since there were always extra cans in the freezer.
“You really did it this time, Gentil,” Michael said as he settled a few feet from me on the couch. “I have a bullet hole in the wall and crime scene tape all over the place. And I believe I already mentioned the carpet.”
“You didn’t mention the lack of time in prison if they got interested in you again,” I said, matching his serious tone with my own.
“True. You get some credit for that.” He smiled. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
“I’m just not good at waiting. Of course, I thought all I was doing was checking to see if Mrs. Jasper had a key.”
“I never use the keypad for the door near the garage; I use the key, since I usually have them out when I get out of the car.” He shook his head. “I can’t say mother never used the pad, because she obviously gave Mrs. Jasper the code to use it at some point. I can’t imagine why.”
“Maybe when they were working on the den, or maybe they went in that way once and Mrs. Jasper just watched when your mother used the keypad.” I set my teacup on the coffee table. “It’s not likely we’ll ever know.”
At this he grew glum. “I talked to Sgt. Morehouse a couple times today. Other than Pedone’s and your testimony, there is not a lot to link her to Mom’s death. Not even finger prints on the doorknob. She must have opened it with her skirt or jacket over her fingers.”
“She could have even been wearing gloves. Older people get cold more easily.” When he looked at me skeptically, I added, “My testimony should be slightly more believable than Pedone’s.”
“Slightly,” he agreed. “It’s a lot more than they had to go on with me, and you saw how hard the prosecutor pushed that.”
“Scary,” I said.
Neither of us said anything for a few moments, and then our eyes met.
“You’d probably hate Houston,” he said. When I kept looking at him, he added, “I’m going back there to run the company while my partners stand trial. It’ll help our employees keep their jobs, at least for awhile.”
“Probably too hot and humid for me,” I agreed. “I know a B&B where you can have a free room whenever you want to visit Ocean Alley.”
“I can probably afford the rate.” He stood and then bent over and kissed me lightly. “Thanks for believing in me.”
“What are friends for?” I asked.
WITHIN TWO DAYS I WAS raring to get back to work. Despite regular visits from Harry, Scoobie and Ramona, it was boring to sit on the couch and play with Jazz and the guys. Jazz had taken to diving off the bookcase or any table onto Mister Rogers’ back, which terrified him. Several times a day I had to coax him from Aunt Madge’s bedroom. “You’re letting her know it bothers you,” I told him. “Just act nonchalant and she’ll get tired of it.”
“I’m not sure that’s within a dog’s realm of reasoning,” Aunt Madge said, as she kneaded a bowl of afternoon bread.
Later I walked down to the boardwalk to enjoy the 50-degree weather, rare for this time of year, and sat facing the ocean. When I came here I could not have imagined such an eventful first month. I was trying to get away from the limelight and restore some order to my life. While my life with Aunt Madge had not been as peaceful as I’d planned thus far, I had unmasked a murderer, found a job with a nice boss, and renewed friendships. Not a bad inventory for a little more than a month. Something to build on.
“Yo, Jolie.” Scoobie was coming toward me on roller skates.
“Pretty cool. Where’d you get those?”
“Traded some guy for my knapsack.” He carried a large plastic grocery store bag that was quite full. “I needed a new one anyway, that one was starting to stink. There’s a sale at Wal-Mart. You can give me a ride up there.”
“Sure.”
He circled me and skated to an easy stop beside my bench and sat next to me. “Read my new poem.” He pulled it from his bag.
start of a voyage
the end of our fate?
hearts out of storage
kept safe for a soul mate
“This is beautiful. Umm. Is this the whole thing?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. If more comes to me, it won’t be.”
“If more comes to you. This comes from you, Scoobie.” I searched for words. “You’re as good as your poetry.”
“I may be someday.” He stood up. “Who I am now is OK.” He grinned. “I’ll go stow my stuff, and stop by your aunt’s, if it’s OK to go to the store now.”
I nodded, still thinking about his poem.
As he rose to skate away, Scoobie’s plastic bag caught the edge of the bench and its contents spilled. I stooped to help him collect the items, and then sat back on my heels, with a red white-board marker and small sponge eraser in my hands.
“You rewrite Ramona’s board?” I asked, amazed.
He grinned as he took them. “Yeah. She really needs to lighten up.”
“I never would have guessed you for that.”
“You, Ms. Gentil, have a lot to learn.”
So I do.
Appraisal for Murder
is the first book of the Jolie Gentil cozy mystery series, and was published for Smashwords in October 2011. The second book in this cozy mystery series is
Rekindling Motives
, which will be published in November 2011.
Can a real estate appraiser in a New Jersey beach town really get in that much trouble? After dumping a jerk husband, Jolie is rekindling friendships, getting talked into running the local food pantry, and finding dead bodies in unlikely places.
Discover other books and novellas by Elaine Orr on Smashwords.
Biding Time
(young adult)
Secrets of the Gap
(mystery with a touch of romance)
Searching for Secrets
(mystery with a touch of romance)
Appraisal for Murder
(first of the Jolie Gentil cozy mystery series)
Rekindling Motives
(continuing the Jolie Gentil series)
Tess and All Kinds (short story)
Feel free to be in touch via www.elaineorr.com or [email protected]*
