Dressed Up 4 Murder, page 24
“I’m not a—‘Lousy’ is a pretty nasty word, don’t you think? We’ve got enough evidence to have you arrested on the spot, so you might as well come clean. It’s bad enough I ruined my mother’s dog’s debut as the Mouse King while I was chasing after you.” I inhaled and pointed to the judges’ stand. “If I don’t get back there by the time they award the prizes, I might as well take the next flight to Bolivia. So, excuse me while I grab my cell phone and send for two of the orneriest deputies this side of Phoenix!”
“Hold on. Hold on. No sense getting carried away. It was all a big misunderstanding.”
Tucker, who’d been pretty quiet up until that moment, spoke up. “A guy I used to work with was murdered. Murdered. That’s a hell of a lot more than a misunderstanding. I hope you’ve got a better excuse for those sheriff’s deputies.”
Alender lowered his head and stood there. Behind us, the happy holiday music was blaring, but it didn’t soften our moods.
Finally, he spoke. “Jocelyn thought Cameron was poisoned in her restaurant. She found him slumped over in a booth after-hours. Blood trickling down his nose. Must be everyone else thought he’d passed out from drinking too much and didn’t pay attention. My sister was terrified. His death would mean the loss of her business. Plus, he was her ex-boyfriend. If that’s not a smoking gun, what is? She panicked. Called me and asked me to do something. What was I going to say? She’s my sister.”
Marshall lowered his hands but still remained standing between the two men. He turned his head slightly and looked Alender in the eye. “And you knew a good place to dispose of the body where it wouldn’t be found for at least a month or more.”
“Yeah. I had that Airtnt list. Plus, I had scoped out that house with the huge grill and tarp. Too bad someone’s stupid dog had to ruin everything.”
I cringed and bit my lip. He has no way of knowing it was Streetman. “And that’s when your lanyard came loose and you lost your flash drive.”
Alender nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. You got it right. It was me snooping around a few nights later. That’s when I realized I was also at the Meschow place that day. Thought maybe I dropped it inside her house. I didn’t want her to make any connections, so I broke in. I’m telling you the truth. I have nothing to hide. I didn’t murder Cameron and neither did Jocelyn. Like I said, she was terrified she’d lose La Mar Maravillosa. In case you didn’t know it, La Mar was the last restaurant around here that wasn’t skimming its patrons.”
My uncle Louis immediately came to mind. Last time I saw him, he complained about something like that. Oh my gosh. He also mentioned La Mar Maravillosa being closed so they could reorganize the kitchen. A lump formed in my throat and I coughed. “Is that why Jocelyn closed La Mar Maravillosa for a week? To try and find out how Cameron could’ve been poisoned in her restaurant?”
“She had to sift through everything and throw out all open containers. Not to mention her spices and anything questionable. We were pretty certain Cameron was poisoned the night she found him but didn’t know what kind of quick-acting agent it was. She was afraid maybe rat poison or some cleaning solvent got into the food. Jocelyn couldn’t take a chance it might happen to a customer. Then, when it came on the news a few days later that it was sago palm poisoning, she realized it couldn’t have happened in La Mar Maravillosa. Sago palm toxin takes days to work, not minutes. By then, it was too late to contact the police.”
“Not too late to contact them now,” Tucker said with an annoying smugness that made me wonder what Bethany and Jocelyn saw in this guy.
I did a mental eye roll. “It still doesn’t answer how Cameron and your mother-in-law wound up ingesting that substance. Hmm, now that I think of it, the waitress at La Mar Maravillosa mentioned serving you at the bar a few days before Cameron’s body was discovered. It wasn’t a secret you were having an affair with Jocelyn, and that must’ve really struck a nerve with Cameron. You know what I think?” I answered before Tucker could open his mouth. “I think Cameron threatened to tell your wife and you couldn’t let that happen. Bethany Cabot, along with her mother, is the owner of Spellbound Naturals, not you. You’d lose everything if she divorced you.”
Tucker rubbed the nape of his neck and didn’t say a word. Marshall gave me a half nod and a wink. I don’t know how long we were standing there, but, all of a sudden, I heard the announcer call out for the final group of dogs. The music changed to “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” but the last thing I felt like doing was dancing.
“Good luck trying to prove anything,” Tucker said. “And by the way, if I wanted to kill someone, I’d get a gun and aim, not dilly around with poison. Especially a plant-based one like the sago palm. Not on the top ten lists of toxins. It’s so . . . so . . . medieval. That’s what it is. Only a horticulturist or someone who practices herbal medicines would be aware of it.” Then he turned to Alender. “As much as I’ve enjoyed our chitchat, I’ve got to find my wife before this damn program ends. And from the looks of things, The Bountiful Life will have to find someone else to make its deliveries.”
“Like hell!” Alender spun around and took off running. He wove in and out of the crowd like a quarterback with less than twenty seconds left in the game.
“Aren’t you going after him?” I asked Marshall. “He’s getting away. He can be arrested on multiple counts.”
“Yeah,” Tucker added. “And don’t forget to add ‘threatening to commit violence.’ You heard him. He said something about smacking my head. At the very least it’s menacing. That’s cause for arrest, isn’t it? I’d call the sheriff’s office right now if I didn’t have to find my wife and deal with my mother-in-law.”
With that, Tucker took off in the opposite direction, leaving Marshall and me to ferret things out in the parking lot.
“Alender got away. I can’t believe you didn’t stop him,” I said.
“And what? Create a ridiculous scene where someone could’ve been hurt? We’ve got all his information. He’s not going anywhere.” He flashed a big grin. “Besides, don’t you agree you’d rather see Ranston and Bowman get the exercise?”
“I suppose.”
“Give me a second. I’ll place the call.”
While Marshall took out his phone, I stood on my toes to see what was going on with the parade. The final group of dogs had exited the knoll and was at the dog park gate. I imagined they’d be announcing the winners any minute now.
“Come on,” I said. “Might as well see if my mother’s going to win her spa vacation or grouse about this until Groundhog Day.”
Marshall took me by the elbow and we walked toward the far end of the knoll. Close enough to see the judges’ stand should Streetman actually win. “Sleigh Ride” began to play and I hoped the event would end soon.
Shirley, Lucinda, Myrna, Louise, and Cecilia were all standing in the front, along with my aunt Ina. I scanned the area for Bethany and Tucker but didn’t see them. Tucker was probably still steaming about my accusation, but only if he really was guilty. Otherwise, judging from his personality, he’d shrug it off.
“Do you hear that?” Marshall asked.
“The whinnying sound? It’s the horses in the song.”
“No. Listen carefully. In the distance. Sirens. Geez, how much do you want to bet it’s Ranston and Bowman with their siren on?”
“They wouldn’t. Would they?”
The siren noise got closer.
“I think they crave the attention. They were right in the neighborhood following up on a theft. Bowman was ecstatic when I told him what was going on. Don’t look now, but that’s them pulling into the parking lot.”
“Pulling in” was one way to put it. The car careened into the far end of the lot and spun to a stop directly in front of the dog park gate. But not before throngs of people raced to get out of the way. I don’t think the Red Sea parted as fast for Moses.
In the background, I heard the announcer thanking everyone.
I tugged at Marshall’s arm. “We really should get over there to see if Streetman won.”
“Yeah. No problem. I gave the deputies a solid description of Alender and—Oh Holy Hell! Do you see that? Alender never made it to his car. That’s him, isn’t it? Trying to cut through the knoll. Why would he do an idiotic thing like that? I mean, sure, he’s taking the path and not the snow-covered hill but still . . .”
“Lots of people who aren’t familiar with the park think that path leads to an exit. It doesn’t. It just winds around the little man-made berm. Oh no. I can’t believe it. It’s Bowman. Charging for Alender. And Ranston’s slogging up the hill as well.”
A voice bellowed through the air, “No people allowed on the knoll. This is not a playground!”
I stared at the catastrophe in front of me. “Ranston and Bowman aren’t in uniform. The announcer doesn’t realize they’re sheriff deputies.”
“Detectives,” Marshall said. “Don’t let them hear you call them plain old deputies.”
“Leave the knoll at once. We have to conclude our program!”
Maybe the announcer thought he’d be able to get on with the festivities, but the crowd began to get agitated. People started shouting all sorts of things, including, “Get your butts out of here!” and some expletives I’d rather forget.
Then, out of nowhere, someone’s giant elkhound charged into the knoll and knocked Bowman over. As the disgruntled detective started to stand, the dog began humping him and the crowd went nuts. Meanwhile, Alender was halfway to the top when Ranston must’ve caught a second wind.
The detective who reminded me of a Sonoran Desert Toad had suddenly become the Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. I watched, speechless, as Ranston took a giant step in the soggy snow and pounced on top of Alender, causing the slight delivery guy to lose his balance and tumble on the knoll.
Bowman had managed to disengage the elkhound, but now a new target was in sight. The dog thundered over to Alender and began to trounce on him. A woman’s shrill voice reverberated across the hill. “Artimus! You stop that right now. Bad, bad boy. Do you hear me, Artimus? Stop that!”
Someone must’ve said something to the announcer, because the next thing we knew he said, “This is official posse business. Please remain where you are. We will commence with the prizes in a few minutes.”
Then the music came on again. “Jingle Bell Rock” this time.
“Wait here,” Marshall said. “I’d better give those guys a hand.”
I watched, along with the crowd, as my boyfriend and the two detectives escorted Alender off of the knoll and into the sheriff’s car that had blocked the entrance to the dog park. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder and I jumped. It was Herb Garrett.
“Hey, cutie! Is this enough excitement for you? Harriet must be beside herself. That dog of hers isn’t going to hold still much longer in a costume. Neurotic little thing, isn’t he?”
“I, um, er . . .”
“Hang on. Looks like they’re about to start. Got to make my way closer to the action. Nice seeing you.”
It was only a matter of minutes until the sheriff’s car left, along with Ranston and Bowman’s “catch of the day,” but it felt like hours. Marshall raced toward me, giving me two thumbs-up.
When he was in earshot, he spoke. “Hate to do this to you, but I’ve got to go over to the posse station. Alender will be making an official confession, but Ranston and Bowman want to make sure our culprit doesn’t leave anything out.”
“That could take hours. I know how that paperwork goes. Guess I’ll see you at home after this shindig is done. This is one of those times I’m glad we took two cars to work.”
I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before focusing my attention on the judges’ stand. The three Santas waved papers in front of one another for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, one of them walked over to the announcer, who was a few feet away.
Please, please let my mother’s dog win that stupid prize so we can all get on with our lives.
“Prince. Our third-place winner is Prince Meschow.”
I heard a shriek and watched as Elaine and Bethany made their way to the stand. In my mind, Shirley Johnson was the real winner for designing and sewing those costumes. Elaine handed the small dog to her daughter so she could carry the basket of treats home, along with a nice gift certificate.
Bethany still wasn’t off the hook as far as I was concerned. I was positive she was the one who held Jocelyn at gunpoint. More dramatic than sending a text saying: “Hands off my husband.” She and her mother left the knoll. She was jealous, yes. But it was Cameron who was poisoned, not Jocelyn. So there went my motive.
The announcer cleared his throat and it sounded like a car with engine trouble. “In second place, Sir Breckenthall the Third. Sir Breckenthall Gruber.”
A few people began to cheer, and when I scanned the crowd I could see it was my mother’s friends. They were waving their arms all over the place. Except for my aunt Ina, who was busy adjusting her hat.
Myrna, with a voice louder and stronger than a longshoreman, shouted, “This means Streetman has a chance to win the grand prize!”
Phyllis Gruber stormed up to the judges’ table like someone who’d returned spoiled goods to customer service at the supermarket. It was impossible to hear what it was she said, but she dragged her poor dog off the knoll as if he had committed a heinous deed.
Then the moment my mother had been waiting for since October. The announcement of the first-place winner and grand prize winner. If Sir Breckenthall took second place and Streetman secured that first spot, the little Chiweenie would have enough points to be the grand champion.
I held my breath and tried not to bite my nails.
The announcement was loud and clear. “In first place, Streetman Plunkett.”
Cheers could be heard everywhere and my mother made a mad dash up the knoll. She was a few feet from the announcer’s podium when one of the Santa judges rushed past her and handed the announcer a note. He paused to read it and then looked as if he had gotten word the stock market crashed or some equally awful news.
The announcer cleared his throat again and spoke. “May I have your attention please? It seems we’ve made a slight error in the awarding of the prizes. The second-place prize belongs to Streetman Plunkett and the first-place prize goes to Sir Breckenthall Gruber. This means Sir Breckenthall Gruber is our grand champion and he, along with his owner, will enjoy a full spa vacation. Thank you for your understanding and we wish everyone happy holidays.”
What followed was a series of collective groans from the crowd, but their reaction was mild compared to my mother’s. She bent down to cover the dog’s ears before letting loose on the announcer. “What do you mean, Streetman isn’t in first place? You named him the winner and you need to stick with it.”
Phyllis Gruber nudged herself in front of my mother and thrust the basket of second place goodies at her. “Looks like the Pity Train just derailed at the corner of Suck it Up, Harriet, and Quit Your Whining.”
Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bethany, Tucker, and Elaine in the parking lot. Not willing to miss out on possibly the only chance I’d have to speak with Bethany, since the last thing I intended to do was drive an hour and twenty minutes to Chandler, I shouted to my mother, “Let it go!” and took off after Bethany.
Probably not the right choice of words, given the circumstances.
Chapter 26
As I charged toward Bethany, my mother’s entourage made a beeline directly for the knoll and the judges’ stand. Knowing the Booked 4 Murder crew as well as I did, all three Santas were about to get an earful, but so was Bethany.
I don’t remember elbowing people in the parking lot, but I was told by more than one of my mother’s neighbors and acquaintances that I did. All I cared about was getting some answers from Bethany. I hailed her down like a New York City cab. “Wait! Hold up! I need to speak with you. It’s important.”
I was a few yards from her, her husband, and her mother. Bethany turned around when she heard my voice and motioned for the others to keep going. I walked as fast as I could until we were face-to-face.
“Phee. We’re on our way out. Isn’t this great news? Prince won. And Tucker told me Jocelyn’s brother confessed to the break-in at my mother’s house, not to mention some other shady business he was in. For all we know, he could’ve been the one who murdered Cameron. Maybe he’ll think it over and confess to that, too.”
“Um, not likely. Sure, he was worried Cameron was going to ‘out him’ for that brothel business he set up in Sun City West, but that wasn’t really a strong motive for murder. Not like jealousy.”
“What are you taking about?”
I looked around to make sure no one was listening. The crowd had dispersed quickly and there were only a few people near us. “You know what I mean. You did find out the truth. Cameron had been right all along. Tucker was having an affair with Jocelyn. It was you who tried to poison her, but something went wrong and Cameron wound up ingesting the sago palm toxin.”
“That’s ludicrous. I’d never kill anyone. Let alone poison them.”
“Then why are you wringing your hands? And you’re shaking, too. You might as well admit it and save everyone the embarrassment of a search warrant for your house.”
Bethany looked down and whispered, “I’m afraid the only thing they’ll find is a small pellet gun without any ammunition. Tucker bought it years ago, but it never left the box. Not until recently when I wanted to make sure Jocelyn kept her hands off of my husband.”
“So, it was you in the hoodie and scream mask.”
“Not my proudest moment, but yeah. I wanted to give her a good scare. Please. Please don’t say anything to your boyfriend. No one got hurt. It was a stupid thing to do, and I regret it. If my mother found out, it could destroy her. She’s fragile enough.”
I wanted to say, “Then you should’ve thought about that first,” but I kept quiet and let her continue.
“Tucker and I worked things out. What he had with Jocelyn is history. If you don’t believe me, ask them. I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t poison Jocelyn. I don’t know the first thing about plants. Between you and me, Tucker wasn’t the only one who fell for her charms. A while back I had lunch at her restaurant and one of the waitresses told me Jocelyn had men swarming all over her. Granted, she’s absolutely gorgeous in a Sophia Loren kind of way, but she’s demanding and temperamental.”
