Where Is Henderson? (Sam Darling mystery #5) (8 page)

On the way out I bought two bottles of water, at the member discount price of $4 each, but refused to sign up as an associate. The poor woman behind the counter seemed flabbergasted. “You don’t want to sign on? No one’s ever said that before. I don’t think I can give you the member discount. I have to check.”

That solidified my hunch that I’d been the only non-associate in the room, except for Coronation, and she was staff.

I felt pretty special—for a moment anyway. But while the woman was checking on pricing for non-associates I got scared. What if Louise came over and I couldn’t keep resisting her power?

I threw down a few more dollars, took my two bottles of water, and exited as quickly as I could.

O
utside I met Coronation and our conversation was short but informative. It turned out that her book was to be an expos
é
on Louise Shannon’s operation.

“Intriguing,” I said, mouth agape. “What made you to want to take on this topic? And this charismatic woman?”

Her eyes welled with tears. She immediately cleared them, and in a resolute voice said, “My grandmother swore by the water. She drank two or three bottles every day, and one day she said she didn’t need to take her medicine any longer because Louise said the water was all she needed.” She paused to take a breath. “No one could convince her otherwise, and for a while it seemed the water was actually working. Then suddenly she died. Heart failure. She hadn’t been taking her heart medicine for a month or so. That’s what did it.” Another pause, and she looked directly into my eyes. “I don’t want anyone else to lose a loved one because of that greedy woman.”

I reached out to touch her arm gently. “I’m so sorry about your loss. No wonder you’re angry. And I think a book is a great idea. Much better than killing Shannon.”

“What? I never even thought of murdering her.” Coronation shuddered as she spoke.

“Sorry,” I said. I almost explained to her my fascination with murder, but caught myself. I did tell her why I was in Henderson, and that I was working with the police.

“Okay. That makes a little more sense.”

We said good-bye soon afterward because she had work to do for Louise Shannon. We exchanged contact information; I definitely wanted to follow up on the book.

By then it was dinnertime, and I walked briskly back to the B&B. George was in the parlor reading a newspaper while glancing at his phone. Clancy was sleeping at his feet until she heard me. She greeted me by sitting in front of me and snorting her displeasure at my being gone all day. Then she quickly forgave me, as she usually did, and I crouched down to her level, giving her a hug.

By then, George had joined us and he gave me a hug too, although a bit absentmindedly and even awkwardly, since he had to lean down to where I was still hugging Clancy.

“What’s up?” I asked, knowing he was preoccupied with something.

“Uh, I’m waiting for a phone call from Jonah Henderson. Remember… he’s the mayor’s younger brother?”

“Thanks for the reminder,” I said, “but I did remember that. I also remember he’s in line to inherit since Cash is dead.” I walked into the parlor and sat on a beautiful old chair. “What did you find out today?”

“Not as much as I’d hoped,” George answered. “Factory employees liked Cash personally for the most part, but most seemed to resent him a little. I mean, the rich kid starting out at a lower paying job, but knowing he’d own the place one day.”

“So he was an okay guy, but they resented his position?”

“Yeah. However, I don’t think anyone resented him enough to kill him. But I may be wrong.”

“Why is Jonah calling you?” My curiosity, as always, was in full swing. And now that I was done with the workshop, I wanted back in on the murder investigation.

“We didn’t have much time together today, so we’re going to meet before dinner.” He looked at me, then smiled. “Want to join us?”

“Of course I want to join you. It’s the real reason I’m here.”

“Oh,” George said, in mock disappointment, “I thought you were here because you wanted to spend more time with me.”

“Of course, that’s the main reason,” I teased. “The murder investigation is just the icing on the proverbial cake.”

I walked over to George and he stood up. In the middle of a decidedly delicious kiss, his phone rang.

“Sorry,” he said. “I have to take this.”

He put the phone to his ear. “Lansing,” he said, answering the phone as he always does, a police officer to the core. Then a pause before he said, “That will be fine. See you in a few minutes.”

I didn’t have to ask what the other party said. George told me immediately. “That was Jonah Henderson. He’s going to stop by in a few minutes, and we can talk here.”

“I’ll check with Nibby about us using the parlor.” I turned when I had a sudden thought. “Have you talked to Nibby yet about the piece of newspaper I found in the boxcar?”

“Not yet. So please don’t mention it to him.”

“Okay,” I said, very happy I hadn’t succumbed to impulsiveness earlier.

I saw George nod as I left the room, Clancy at my side. “I have a lot to tell you about today, girl. It was interesting.”

A few more steps and I was in the kitchen. Nibby was hard at work, kneading some dough into what I supposed would be a luscious concoction that would appear for breakfast tomorrow. After greeting me, he assured me we could use the parlor.

“Just close the door. Others will know not to disturb you if the door is closed.”

“Thanks bunches,” I said, then impulsively hugged him, moving in from the side since he was busy working.

I relayed the message to George and we resumed kissing again. It was a pleasant way to pass the time as we waited. Unfortunately, Jonah arrived much too soon.

After introductions, we sat down and George dove right in. At first I was surprised he didn’t offer Jonah Henderson something to drink, but then I reflected on the fact that this was a murder investigation and not a social event.

Jonah had some of the same characteristics as his older brother Caleb, the same body shape—round, and the same air of grief surrounding him. And as with his brother, I felt the same sense of discomfort. My typical psychic vibes weren’t in full swing, but I was getting an odd feeling nonetheless. I also noticed that Clancy stayed close by my side. There was something about Jonah Henderson that she didn’t like, and she didn’t seem willing to take her eyes off him. I’d consult with her later.

I glanced at my beloved and saw a smudge of lipstick near the left side of his mouth. Talk about distracting! I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. My internal dialogue went something like this.
Would he be madder if I let it go and he found out later that he had lipstick on his face during the entire interview? Or would he be madder if I cleaned it off?
What a conundrum. However, I operate on the theory that people would rather know things. I’ve told many a clueless stranger that her skirt was tucked into her pantyhose, there was toilet paper stuck to a shoe, or his fly was down. Because I knew I’d definitely want to know. And I decided to treat George the way I’d treat a total stranger.

Jonah and George were still in the introductory stage of the interview, so I calmly leaned over and wiped the edge of George’s mouth with my thumb. He gave me a look and I shrugged my shoulders with a half smile on my face.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did Jonah.

George asked a round of his usual questions, and I did my best to stay focused during the boring part. Then it got more interesting.

“You say you had no hard feelings that the family business would go to your nephew Cash instead of to you?”

Jonah nodded. “That’s right. I mean, I might have thought it wasn’t fair when I was younger and working much harder than my brother Caleb at the factory. But that was the way our father’s will was structured, which was something he made me aware of years ago. So I accepted the fact that there was nothing I could do about it. I was destined to be second fiddle at the company and that was that.”

“Well, there
was
something you could do about it…” George said, and let the rest of the sentence trail off.

“You mean kill Cash before he had an heir?” Jonah’s voice started off conversationally, but by the end of the sentence he was screaming.

Hmmm, short fuse,
I noted to myself.
I’ll have to file that away.

“No need to yell, Henderson,” George said with a warning tone.

Jonah calmed as quickly as he had escalated.

“Sorry. The very idea that I’d kill my nephew is absurd. Ridiculous. Outlandish.”

Sometimes people give themselves away by saying too much. Why didn’t he just stop at absurd?

After a few more clarifying questions, George let Jonah go. Jonah shook both our hands, thanked us for investigating, and left quietly.

“That was weird,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“He went from cold to hot to cold so quickly, and then overdid the excusing of it. I think he’s involved.”

“Those your only reasons?” George asked.

“You know what the other reason is…” I trailed off, tired of talking about my vibes. “And Clancy didn’t like him either, did you girl?” I finished by looking at her as I petted her head. She validated my statement and I interpreted for George.

He almost rolled his eyes, and I said, “You’re not doubting my connection with Clancy, are you?”

“Not really, but sometimes I wonder if you use her to outnumber me.”

My eyes must have flashed a warning, because he quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway, Jonah certainly had a motive,” George said. “He’ll inherit the factory, as long as he had nothing to do with the murder.”

I nodded, preoccupied with my growling stomach instead of my pique at George, so I missed his next couple of words. But I tuned in immediately when I heard, “… Louise Shannon. Weren’t you surprised? I sort of expected a response from you.”

“What? What does Louise Shannon have to do with Jonah Henderson?”

George laughed, “So you didn’t pay attention to the entire interview?”

“You know I get bored easily. Sorry.” And I really was. “But tell me, where does Louise Shannon fit in?”

“She’s Jonah’s wife.”

If I’d been drinking something, I’d have done a spit-take. “Jonah’s wife?” I repeated like a parrot.

“Yeah. What do you make of that?”

“Well, I already have her classified as a villain in my head. She manipulates people and takes advantage of them. This makes me even more suspicious of Jonah.”

George thought a moment. “Yeah, but sometimes only one-half of the couple is rotten and the other one is nice.”

I turned on him, “Are you teasing me? Or are you meaning that you’re nice and I’m not?” There went my insecurities again. I tried to keep my voice light, but he could tell that I was not completely joking.

“Sam, stop it. You tease all the time, but when I do you make out like I’m putting you down. It gets old. Really old.”

I wanted to argue, but couldn’t this time. “You’re right,” I said, although somewhat reluctantly, and then quickly changed the subject. “My vibes didn’t go crazy around anyone, but I had a few odd feelings around the Mayor, his wife, and his brother, Jonah. I didn’t get close enough to Louise Shannon to feel anything physically, but I’m smart enough to know a con-woman when I see one. She is slick, and she had all the women in the room bamboozled. I don’t know how many other ‘associates’ she has, but I was the only non-associate in the room. She’s built a pyramid scheme around water from a nearby spring. I’d like to get it tested.”

“We can’t get it tested just because you don’t like her. There’s nothing to connect her to the murder. So I can’t justify the expense.”

I felt a pout coming on so excused myself to go talk to Nibby. I found him where I’d seen him last, in the kitchen. He looked up from a flour-covered board and smiled as I walked in.

“You almost have to bend over to reach the table from your height. Isn’t that uncomfortable for you?”

He shrugged. “Nothing is built for my height, so I’m used to it.” He looked back at the dough he was kneading.

“Is this the same thing you were working on earlier?”

He laughed, “No, of course not. If I worked that slowly I’d never get done.”

“I’d offer to help but that would just slow you down,” I said as I found a stool and pulled it near enough to him to talk comfortably. “Tell me about the house.”

His smile increased exponentially. As he continued working he said, “When you said this was a copy of the house in Quincy, you were wrong. The house in Quincy is a copy of this one. This house was built in 1883. Doctor Peter Henderson built it as a wedding gift for his daughter, Doctor Sarah Jo Henderson. She married her long-time love, Roman Pendergast.”

“Hmm, not a Henderson,” I said as I grabbed a piece of dough and savored it.

“Nope. In fact he wasn’t from here. Don’t know where he came from. Anyway, they married and she kept her maiden name. A rebel. It was unheard of then, but apparently it was something she felt strongly about.”

As he spoke, he formed the current dough into a ball, covered it with a tea towel, and put it on the counter to rest. “Tea?” he asked me.

“Of course. Thanks.”

As he made the tea, he continued, “The newspaper archives describe their wedding in glowing terms, and nearly everyone in town was invited. Apparently they were happy, but unfortunately shortly after their return from a honeymoon in Europe, Roman died. Tragically, the paper said, although there were no details. Sarah Jo was inconsolable. Almost immediately she packed up and left town.”

“Suicide,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“People don’t even like to talk about it now. Imagine back then. I’m not positive of course, but if the paper said he died tragically, but didn’t say anything else, it might have been by his own hand.”

“Interesting,” was all Nibby said.

He put a hot cup of tea in front of me. I inhaled the flowery fragrance, then cautiously took a sip. “So then…” I said, wanting Nibby to continue the story.

“So then Sarah Jo went to Quincy, Illinois. She’d seen an advertisement that the city was in need of doctors, so she went. For some reason she wanted the same house she’d been so fleetingly happy in, and she hired the same architect from Henderson, and had him build it on Quincy’s north side.”