Half-Price Homicide (22 page)

“I haven’t any assets, except that three hundred thousand dollars,” Helen said. “I rent a tiny apartment. I don’t own a car.”

“Good,” the lawyer said. “That will help. Keep your life simple until this is settled. The IRS will calculate your penalties and interest. Interest cannot be waived, but the penalties can be if you can prove that you were unable to take care of your responsibilities during those years. Being on the run may be able to do that. It will help that your ex-husband bribed a judge to get a divorce decision.

“I’ll check the years this took place and the filing requirements and see if there was an amnesty program then,” Drake Upton said. “I’ll also explain the sale of the house and the fact that your ex probably didn’t file taxes for it. If you file taxes now, that will work in your favor.

“After I prepare your taxes, my office will send them to you. You can sign and mail them in with a check. Did you file state tax returns during the time you were gone?”

“No,” Helen said.

“Then we’ll have to file those, too. Give me a list of states where you worked. I’ll research their laws and get back to you.”

“There was just one, Florida,” Helen said.

“That’s good,” Drake Upton said. “I believe Florida is one of the states that doesn’t have personal income tax, but I’ll check for you.”

“Will the fines and penalties take the whole three hundred thousand?”

“I don’t think so,” Drake Upton said. “But taxes are a bit like opening a can of worms. One question leads to another and we have too many that need answering.”

“How angry will the tax people be?” Helen asked.

“They’re not the ogres most people think they are, Miss Hawthorne. They want citizens to pay taxes. That’s what you’re trying to do. With patience, time and money, we can get you out of this mess.”

Helen and Phil walked to their rental car hand in hand. “Our work here is done,” Helen said.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Phil said. “The last time you left St. Louis, you were on the run from the court. Rob was free and spending your money. Now Rob is running from the law, and you’re free.”

“Right,” Helen said, “free.”

Her heart twisted. Helen would never be free as long as Rob was buried in the church-hall foundation—and she’d go to jail if he was ever found.

She’d traded one trap for another.

“Look at my new bat, Uncle Phil,” Tommy said. “It’s a wooden grown-up bat.”

“Pujols better watch out,” Phil said. “What happened to your old bat, slugger?” He ruffled the boy’s straw-colored hair.

“Somebody stole it,” Tommy said. “Mom bought me this one. She still won’t let me use a real baseball in our yard, but I can hit one on a baseball diamond.”

“Wanna show me what you can do with this new bat?” Phil asked.

“Yeah!” Tommy said. “You can pitch and Dad can play outfield.”

“Daddy needs a beer,” Tom said. “I’ll get Uncle Phil one, too. Outfielder is thirsty work.”

Helen followed her sister into the house to help with dinner. She waited until Tom left the kitchen with two cold beers, then said, “The aluminum bat disappeared, huh? There’s been a crime wave in this neighborhood.”

“I couldn’t risk having it around,” Kathy whispered. “DNA is dangerous. What if Rob’s blood, hair or skin cells were lodged in the scratches on the bat? If—God forbid—they ever find his body, I don’t want the autopsy to reveal he was bopped with a long, blunt bat-shaped object.”

“Tommy still has no clue what happened to his uncle?” Helen asked.

“None,” Kathy said. “He’s used to Rob dropping in and then disappearing. If Rob never reappears, Tommy won’t miss him.”

“Nobody will,” Helen said. ” ‘Nothing in his life became him like the leaving of it.’ “

“Macbeth”
Kathy said. “Classy epitaph for a worthless life. Nobody will cry for Rob.”

“He triggered enough tears when he was alive,” Helen said.

“Mom got a good send-off, didn’t she?” Kathy asked. “It was a lovely funeral. All her friends were there. The church looked beautiful. And it was nice of Mrs. Hurbert to warn us about Larry’s sneaky estate sale. I slipped out during the viewing and took some things from Mom’s house before the sale.”

“What if Larry discovers they’re gone?” Helen asked.

“The only thing he might notice missing is the cookie jar, and it wasn’t tagged. I know all Mom’s hiding places, so I found her good stuff.”

“Mom had hiding places?”

“She kept her good jewelry in a plastic bag in the flour bin.”

“It was definitely safe from me there,” Helen said.

“Larry, too,” Kathy said. “He never lifted a finger to help or to cook. His loss. We’ll check out our loot after dinner.”

Dinner was quick and simple—spaghetti, salad and ice cream. After the dining room table was cleared, Kathy announced, “Grandma left special presents for everyone she loved. Let’s look now.”

Kathy opened a cardboard box. Helen swore she saw a light dusting of flour inside.

“Tom, these are Daddy’s Cartier cuff links. They’re for you.” “Classy,” Tom said.

“Phil, this is my grandfather’s diamond stickpin.” “Cool Art Deco design,” Phil said. “Thank you.” “Helen, this is our grandmother’s diamond brooch. You were her favorite.”

“Gorgeous antique setting,” Helen said.

“Tommy, this is your grandfather’s pearl-handled pocketknife. I’m only giving it to you because you’ve been acting like a man. If I find you’re misusing it, the pocketknife is gone.”

Allison’s chin was trembling, and Helen hoped Kathy had a present for her daughter. The little girl had been cranky and teary since her grandmother’s death.

“Allison, this is the necklace your grandma wore when she was a little girl. It’s a gold heart with a real seed pearl.”

Allison’s eyes lit up when she saw the delicate necklace. “Can I wear it now?”

“Tonight only,” Kathy said. “Then you can wear it to church and for special occasions, like Megan’s birthday party.”

Kathy had also carried home a box of Christmas ornaments. “Mom knew how to celebrate Christmas,” she said. “Some of these ornaments are nearly a hundred years old. Larry is too much of a Scrooge to know their real value.”

Helen recognized the German glass ornaments from her childhood. “There’s the fat Santa Claus,” she said, “and the silver bells and the musical instruments, including violins and trumpets. We used to have a sleigh with reindeer, but I broke that.”

“These antique glass-bead garlands were packed away in tissue paper,” Kathy said. “Mom left us her manger scene, too.” She opened a fragile white box with hand-painted figures.

“Here are the Christmas stockings Grandma made you kids with your names on them. They used to hang on Grandma’s mantelpiece, but now they’ll go on ours.”

“Grandma left us her Christmas,” Tommy said.

“I also have Grandma’s wedding album,” Kathy said. “That’s for Allison.”

“With the Grandma Princess picture?” Allison asked.

“Yes, your grandmother did look like a princess in her white dress. I’ll put it in your room, so you can see her all the time. Tommy, you can have Grandma’s photo album of the two of you in Forest Park.

“And here’s the best thing of all.” Kathy held up a fat yellow china duck.

“Grandma’s cookie jar,” Tommy said. “Any cookies in it?”

“Not now, but I have her
Betty Crocker Cookbook.
I’ll make cookies like she used to.”

“Nobody can make cookies like Grandma,” Tommy said. “Her cookies were the best. Even the water tasted better at Grandma’s house.”

He looked at his mother and said, “But yours will be good. You need practice to get better. Like me.”

Helen saw her sister tear up and knew Kathy was tired after a long day. Tom must have recognized the same signals. “Bedtime, champ,” he said. “Give your aunt Helen and uncle Phil a good-bye hug. They’re leaving tonight.”

“I don’t want to go to bed,” Tommy said, and stuck out his lip.

“You’re an athlete. You’re in training,” his father said. “No whining.”

Tommy hugged everyone and reluctantly retreated upstairs. “Nice line about him being an athlete,” Helen said. “Hey, it works,” Tom said. He carried a droopy-headed Allison upstairs to bed.

Kathy waited until both children were gone, then said, “Wait till you see what’s in the cookie jar.”

She lifted the duck’s head. The jar was overflowing with currency. “It was Mom’s stash,” Kathy said. “I think there’s about twenty thousand dollars in here.”

“Sweet,” Helen said. “Larry would have a fit if he knew that much cash escaped his clutches.”

“Like I said, if Larry had spent any time with Mom, he would have known where she hid her money.” She pulled out a fat wad with a rubber band around it. “Here’s five thousand dollars to cover the Florida end of Mom’s funeral.”

“I don’t want it,” Helen said. “That was my gift to Mom. I have money now, remember? Put that cash in the kids’ college fund, in case they don’t get sports scholarships.”

Phil checked his watch and said, “We have to return the rental car and fly home.”

The St. Louis airport was easier to negotiate than the one in Fort Lauderdale. St. Louis didn’t have mazes of parking garages attached to one another like tumorous growths, or masses of lost, confused, multilingual tourists. Helen and Phil went through security and were soon on the plane.

Helen felt her heart lift as the plane left the runway, as if she could really leave Rob’s death behind. She liked flying at night, when the city lights looked like diamonds on black velvet.

When their plane was comfortably in the clouds, the flight attendant announced that the passengers could turn on their electronic devices. Phil stretched his long legs and let his seat settle back into a more comfortable position. The seat next to him was empty. The drone of the engines covered their murmured conversation.

“I hope Margery has recovered from Jordan’s death and is her old self again,” Helen said. “Peggy thinks she’ll get better.”

“I want Peggy to be right,” Phil said. “But Margery isn’t young anymore. I’m worried, too. Margery wants me to investigate Jordan’s murder and prove Mark’s innocence. I promised her I’d investigate. But Margery is not going to like what I find. She’s convinced Mark was framed by a mythical burglar. I’m sure Mark killed Jordan in a jealous rage and there was no burglar.”

“Jordan was sneaking around on Mark with Danny,” Helen said. “Maybe not that night, but she’d had several dates with Danny before the developer dumped her. Mark was definitely jealous. I’m not blaming the victim, but Jordan gave Mark an excuse to kill her. I just hope Margery will believe you.”

“Do you still want her to marry us?” Phil asked.

“Of course,” Helen said. “She’s a minister. Ordained by mail, but she can legally marry us.”

“What else do we have to do to make you legal?” Phil said.

“I have a copy of my divorce decree,” Helen said. “Now I need to get my Florida driver’s license. That’s my priority tomorrow morning. Then we can apply for a marriage license.”

“How did you get on the plane without a driver’s license?” Phil asked.

“I have one,” Helen said righteously. “It just isn’t mine. I borrowed it from the lost-and-found box when I worked at the bookstore.” She opened her wallet and showed him a license for Wanda Tiffany Parker.

Phil squinted at the license that had belonged to a freckle-faced redhead. “That doesn’t look like you.”

“Women change their hair color all the time,” Helen said.

“And add freckles?” Phil raised one eyebrow. “How did you fool airport security with that thing?”

“I added some freckles with an eyebrow pencil,” Helen said. “You didn’t even notice them.”

“Beautiful,” Phil said. “You used someone else’s license to board a plane. What if it was reported stolen? What if Wanda was wanted for a crime? How much trouble would you be in then?”

“But it wasn’t,” Helen said. “And Wanda doesn’t live at that address anymore. The store tried to contact her when she lost her license more than two years ago. Besides, my ticket isn’t in Wanda’s name. I used your credit card when I bought our tickets.”

Phil groaned.

Helen was glad she didn’t tell Phil she’d buried Rob in the church basement if he went ballistic over a driver’s license.

“Those days are over,” Helen said. “How legal do we want to get? Do you want to wait to get married until the tax situation is straightened out?”

“That could take years,” Phil said. “You’ve set the process in motion. Rob can’t come after you demanding money, and the law can’t arrest you. That’s good enough for me.”

“The lawyer suggested we keep our lifestyle simple for now, so we should probably continue to live at the Coronado after our wedding,” Helen said.

“Should we keep both apartments, or only one?” Phil asked.

“Between us we have a total of four rooms, two kitchens and two bathrooms,” Helen said. “That gives us maybe fifteen hundred square feet, total. We’ll need the two bathrooms. Let’s keep both apartments for now. We can move to a larger place when my tax problems are settled.”

“Also fine,” Phil said. “Where do you want to go on your honeymoon?”

“I liked that vacation we took in the Keys,” Helen said. “I want to stay at a hotel in Key Largo with an ocean view and room service.” “You won’t get any argument against that from me,” Phil said. “But we have to solve Chrissy’s murder first,” Helen said, “or Detective McNally will be going with us on our honeymoon. I don’t care what he said—Danny the developer killed his wife. I know it. I heard them arguing. Her death has something to do with what she called the house of the seven toilets.”