Mayhem Takes a Dare: The Second Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 2) (16 page)

While the police finished their work on the patio and the grounds, Althea sat at her desk, her fingers resting on the typewriter keys. Who had taken the dead woman’s life? Why had Clara looked at her with pity? Althea shook off her dark thoughts, and her fingers moved on the keys. 

Cross to Bear

By Seretha Ranier

Part Four

Not accustomed to sending attractive women into screaming fits, Chris raised both hands and patted the air. He tried to soothe Tina in the same way he would calm a spooked horse. “I’m sorry—”

Tina’s beautiful oval face was twisted in horror. She pointed at the long grass at the base of the cross. “Blood! There’s blood!”

“Wait here.” Chris eased away from Tina and carefully parted the grass. The broken bodies of a possum, two squirrels, and several birds were strewn in the grass. He took a hasty step back, and turned Tina so the bedraggled bodies were out of her sight.

Tina put a hand to her stomach. “Those remind me of the little animal bodies I used to find around the yard at home. The innocent animals Martin loved to torture to death.”

A battered pick-up truck squealed off the highway and tried to stop behind Chris’ little black car. It didn’t quite stop in time, and bumped the smaller sedan. As the truck’s engine kept knocking after the ignition was shut off, the driver’s door opened with a horrendous creaking.

The two crows perched above them watched, their glossy heads twitching and their strident caws mingling in the still summer air.

“Martina and Chris! Showing the proper respect for my son, I see!” Tina’s father raised his beer can in salute, and brought it to his chapped lips. In his other hand, he hefted a large container of beer. Staggering as he picked his way over the uneven ground, he laughed. “Old Martin won’t mind I took one can out of his case of beer!” Stovall carefully stowed the opened box of beer at the foot of the cross. He leaned over to peer at the ground, and barely managed to keep from falling over the rest of the way. “Looks like Martin has been at it with his slingshot again, doesn’t it?”

“Mr. Stovall.” Chris stumbled backwards when the old man teetered near him and caught Chris’ arm for balance.

“Martina, I’m surprised you took the time to be here for your brother. He asked you many times to come home on the weekends and help out around the house.”

Chris put his arm around her slender waist, and squeezed gently.

His body shaking, Stovall raised his head to stare at his son’s cross. “Crows? Hah. You’d think they’d had enough of Martin when he was alive. Or maybe they’re here to dance on his grave, so to speak. If Martin was alive and standing here, he’d go grab the shotgun out of his truck.”

“A shotgun? For a crow?” Chris shook his head in stunned disbelief. “Isn’t that overkill, Mr. Stovall?”

The old man laughed. When it turned into a phlegmatic cough, he pulled a dirty red bandana out of his overalls pocket. “Martin always said shooting crows was much more fun than shooting skeet or paper targets. Neither of those could match the juicy explosions of crow bodies and feathers—”

Her face white, Tina turned away. “Poor little innocent birds.” She looked up at the motionless crows perched on the cross.

Chris followed her gaze.
How odd. They seem to be listening,
he thought.

Tina’s father slapped his own leg and laughed. “Martina, don’t you remember? Martin always made me plant corn in the back field.”

“That’s right. He wanted to lure the crows in close so he could shoot them.”

Chris was shocked. “Oh, no—”

“Oh, yes.” Stovall was gleeful. “It was always one of his favorite hobbies, watching the little black bodies explode in the air!” He shook with laughter.

The crows screeched, as if in sympathy for their fallen brethren.

“The last thing he did before he peeled out of the driveway with Jason the day he died was to shoot nearly an entire flock of crows. He staggered out of the woods, Jason trailing along behind him as usual. Martin was shouting something about Nancy not being any better than a crow.”

Chris took a moment to say a silent prayer for the souls of the doomed birds. He felt Tina’s trembling hand on his arm. He covered it with gentle fingers.

The old man heaved a deep breath and gazed up at the blank face of the mannequin. “Damn it, boy, why didn’t you take it a little slower on the curve? I taught you when you were a teenager how to make it around that curve with a snoot full! Why didn’t you listen to me?” As he shook his fist at the still figure on the cross, tears rolled down his creased cheeks.

Althea carefully placed the typewritten pages in the desk drawer. She locked it and pocketed the key. Downstairs, she made her way through the gauntlet of other residents, ignoring their excited questions as she passed through the crowded lobby.

She joined Clay on a bench tucked in the corner of the wide porch. Grim paramedics rolled a gurney through the door. The lumpy form under the blanket jiggled as the uniformed men guided it over the planked floor and down the wheelchair ramp.

Althea’s elegant little catlike face puckered. “I simply could not bring myself to sit on the patio, Clay. Even though the police have finished their work and left, I just can’t stand the thought of sitting there where she was murdered.” Althea shivered.

The men adroitly folded up the legs of the gurney, and slid it into the back of the ambulance.

Clay patted her hand. “Many people look at us and merely dismiss us with the thought that we’re at the end of our lives. They don’t realize people like you and I are young and lively on the inside. We tend to take it very much to heart when one of us is struck down.”

With a belching of diesel fumes, the ambulance tried to start, and rattled back to silence. Finally, emitting a black cloud, it rolled slowly down the tree-lined drive. The lights and siren were chillingly absent.

Althea rested her head against his shoulder, and breathed in his clean scent. Idly, she watched as a silver car sped up the drive. She cocked her head. It was hurtling closer to the ambulance, with no sign of stopping.

“Clay, that silver car—”

Clay rose from the bench.

The car fishtailed to a halt in front of the ambulance, blocking it.

A short, muscular young man catapulted out of the driver’s side.

One of the paramedics slid out of the passenger side of the ambulance, and slammed the door angrily. Althea could see his mouth moving, and he was waving his hands in agitation. The compact man in a white t-shirt and khaki shorts was shouting and pointing at the back of ambulance.

The passenger side of the car opened, and a young woman erupted from it. Her brown braid flopping behind her and her bare legs pumping, she was a blur of peach tank top and denim shorts as she sped to the back of the ambulance.

“That woman—” Althea rose to her feet. She took a few disbelieving steps. “She looks like Marisa.”

Clay and Althea hurried across the porch and along the winding driveway.

Marisa was standing on the back bumper and frantically pulling at the closed back doors of the ambulance. “Don’t you dare say it’s none of my business! My friend is in there, and I demand you open these doors!”

The other paramedic slammed out of the driver’s side. At least four hundred and fifty pounds of enraged bull on the hoof, he roared to the back of the vehicle.

Clay and Althea arrived just as the meaty emergency professional removed Marisa from the back door of the ambulance by wrapping his arms around her waist and plucking her off it.

“Put me down, you bully!” Her feet dangled above the pavement.

The other man jerked away from the abuse-hurtling paramedic, and ran to Marisa. “Let her go now, or I’ll make you let her go!” His face set in dangerous lines, he drew back his fist.

Althea thought he looked like a fearless little terrier challenging a huge, slavering Rottweiler.

Clay grabbed the smaller man’s arm.

He jerked around in surprise.

“Allow me, young man.” Clay calmly pinched the larger man’s neck.

The paramedic’s eyes fluttered closed, and he let go of Marisa. He swayed, then hit the ground like a fallen Georgia pine.

Althea gasped as the young man lunged forward and gracefully caught her friend before she could hit the ground.

Marisa wriggled frantically in his muscular arms, and the man immediately released her.

He turned to Clay with a disbelieving smile. “I’m impressed, Mr. Napier. Are you secretly an alien being using a form of the nerve pinch maneuver?”

“Alex, enough with the aliens! Mr. Napier, that was a terrific move!” Marisa threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely.

Clay waved a deprecating hand. “It was nothing, Marisa. I merely wanted to save the young man skinned knuckles and possible charges for assault.”

The smaller paramedic grunted as he helped the larger man to his feet. “Are you people crazy, attacking a defenseless emergency vehicle?”

Marisa rattled the door handle of the ambulance. “I know my friend is in there! I demand to see her immediately!”

Althea stepped forward and caught Marisa’s flailing arm. “My darling girl, I’m right here.”

“Althea! The frantic phone call! The ambulance! I thought...” Marisa pulled the older woman into a tight hug.

Clay smiled suavely at the furious ambulance personnel. “A slight misunderstanding, gentlemen. Please accept my apologies.”

“Apologies, hell!” The larger of the two glared at Clay, but was careful to remain out of the older man’s reach. “I’m filing a complaint! You attacked me!”

Clay’s smile widened. “I’m sure the police and the other emergency personnel will find it amusing for a man of your height and bulk to have been felled by an old man a third your size. If you want to be the laughing stock of your profession, that’s fine with me. It would definitely enhance my reputation.”

As the two men huffed into their vehicle and accelerated away, Marisa met the twinkling gray eyes of Clay Napier. “You never cease to amaze me, Mr. Napier.”

Marisa deftly skipped a rock across the smooth surface of the pond. Alex carefully counted her splashing skips, and then launched his missile across the water.

She, Alex, Clay, and Althea needed to discuss the murders. They decided the only way to ensure complete privacy was to gather on the grounds of the assisted living center. Because of the summer heat, the grounds were deserted.

Marisa glanced up the grassy rise at the back of the assisted living center.

“I’m convinced the two murders are connected,” Clay announced.

Marisa squinted her eyes against the sun. She held up her hand to shade them.

“I think we’re about to be infiltrated by an intruder.”

A large figure was carefully picking her way along the asphalt path winding down the slope. A straw hat with a wide brim protected her head and face from the sun. The hat was tied with long, wide pink ribbons with a big bow under the chin. Although the summer sun was hot, she had a woolen shawl over her shoulders. A mint green and white polyester pantsuit and white plastic pearls completed the ensemble.

As the figure approached them, Marisa recognized Clara, the ruler of the elementary school lunchroom when Marisa was in school. She was also Verna’s sister.

Clara panted, “I hope you didn’t start without me.” Her wrinkled forehead was gleaming with sweat. She flopped down on the bench, taking up more than her half and leaving Clay and Althea squeezed together on the other end.

Marisa didn’t think Clay minded the closeness with Althea.

Althea turned an innocent face to Clara. “Start what, Clara?”

“A discussion of the murders, of course.” As Althea opened her mouth to deny it, Clara raised a large, age-spotted hand. “Don’t even try it, Althea. I can see through the lies of schoolchildren and adults.”

“Miss Clara the Lunch Lady!” Alex’s face lit up and he grinned like a loon.

Clara tilted her head at Alex. “Do I know you?” Her eyes narrowed as she carefully scrutinized his features. “Why, it’s Buzzie! I was thinking about you earlier this morning! My goodness, you’re all grown up!” Her avid brown gaze rested on his ears. “What happened to your ears? Why, the wing span of those ears was legendary at the school.”

Alex laughed. “I managed to deal with my ears.”

“Are you a member of this crime-solving consortium, Buzzie?” Clara fanned her hot face with her hand.

“If you’re hot, Clara, then for heaven’s sake peel off that heavy woolen shawl. It’s more suited to winter than the heat of the summer.” Althea reached over to help Clara with the pink wool and accompanying tassels.

Huffing, Clara batted the delicate hands away from her shawl. “Are you crazy, Althea? I’ll catch my death of a summer cold. No, I am fine just as I am.”

Marisa was still facing the rear of the assisted living center. She watched as a round figure hurried down the slope. The gait was a skipping sort of trot. Marisa squinted her eyes against the sun. Dressed in khakis and a blue polo shirt, the figure was pulling something along behind it.

It was luggage. The rectangular suitcase, with the long carrying handle pulled out, was bumping along the slope behind the man. As the man’s belly flopped up and down with his hurried stride, the case bounced up and down in perfect tandem.

“It’s Fred. And The Library.”

Clara’s face lit up as if she’d won the big jackpot in bingo. “Fred!” she cried as he and The Library arrived in the midst of the group, “You’re just in time! You will be the perfect addition to our murder consortium!”

Fred reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief the size of a pillowcase. He mopped the sweat off his face with it. Wheezing, he leaned against Clara’s edge of the bench.

Marisa decided it was time for someone to take control of the bizarre situation. “Miss Clara, what do you mean, a murder consortium?”

“Young lady, four months ago, Fred managed to rescue you, your friends, and Mr. Napier from the murdering lunatic at the nursing home where they were residents.”

Althea choked on her outrage.

Clay squeezed her hand and surreptitiously winked.

Clara ignored Althea’s sputters. “Now, it seems to me the four of you must be conferring on this new crop of murders. Obviously, since Fred and I are here, we can help you.”

Marisa exchanged an exasperated glance with Alex. He shrugged his shoulders. Marisa wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream.

Althea’s thin, elegant face was strained with impatience. “Why are you interested, Clara?”

“Verna.”

Marisa was confused. “Verna?”

“If my sister’s mind was a biological weapon, then she could use her mouth to start a pandemic. I may not have gone to college like you, Althea, or gotten a teaching certificate, but I know people.”

Clara settled back on the bench. “I like to apply what I call my Sin-O-Meter to others. When I was in the cafeteria, I knew the boys and girls were high spirited, and liked to pull off their mischievous pranks. I would sometimes turn a blind eye or even cover for them—” Clara winked broadly at Alex, who grinned at her. “—because I knew it wasn’t evil. There wasn’t a bit of the bad in those kids. They’d barely register on the Sin-O-Meter...maybe just a one or a two.”

Forced to the very edge of the bench, Clay fidgeted.

Clara ignored his squirming. “On the other hand, people who do evil deeds are at the other end of the Sin-O-Meter. Murder is the maximum, with a twenty. Closely behind murder, greed and betrayal are eighteen or nineteen.”

“Clara—”

She raised her hand. “Please, Althea, let me finish. This brings me to my sister, Verna. She’s a busybody. She’s nosy. She wants to know what everyone is up to. That in itself isn’t too high on the Sin-O-Meter, maybe four or so, annoying yet not truly harmful.

“But my sister takes it a step further. She gathers the information she gleans, overhears, sometimes intuits, and many times bullies out of people. She uses that information to meddle, make trouble, instigate, and otherwise stir up mischief. She loves intrigue, and if there isn’t any handy for her enjoyment, then she will do whatever it takes to create it.

“And there’s that damned dog of hers. Have you ever noticed it looks a lot like Verna? Its narrow face and long nose are the spitting image of Verna. When they’re wearing matching kerchiefs, it’s difficult to tell them apart. That dog is just as nosy as Verna, and I swear it can understand English.” Clara frowned. “Now what was that idiotic name she gave it? Pukey?”

“Pusy,” Alex argued.

Marisa poked him.

“What? Pusy as in filled with pus.” His face shone with innocence. “You know, green discharge from an infected wound.”

“The little beast’s name is Punky,” Marisa fumed. “I know because I insisted on seeing his rabies vaccination papers the last time he bit my ankle.”

Clara turned her head to meet Marisa’s eyes. “Apart from that repulsive canine, Verna came here last night positively bursting with what she’d overhead you and your visitor talking about in your kitchen. She heard you planning the trip to the strip club to question the dancer. I tried to stop her. Before I could do something drastic, like beat her unconscious and stuff her in my closet, she raced off to find Althea.”

Althea held out her hands to Marisa. “She couldn’t wait to tell me all about it. And I must confess, Marisa, I thought you were in danger...for many reasons.”

Marisa knew her friend was thinking of Marisa’s battle with alcoholism. Althea was afraid Marisa would relapse. Marisa closed the distance to the bench and squeezed the older woman’s hands, but she couldn’t bear to meet her eyes.

Althea’s voice broke. “I know you are a grown woman. I know it is none of my business. But I love you. I had to stop you.”

Clay gave up perching on the edge of the bench. He stood up and faced Clara, authority in his set features. “I can understand you’re embarrassed for and frustrated with your sister. However, I think you should stay out the murders. It’s too dangerous.”

“Murders?” Fred looked hopeful and nervous. He reached down to pat The Library.

A light bulb went on over Marisa’s head. “The ambulance! There was a murder here!”

Clara beamed. “Obviously, I haven’t missed much if you haven’t told them about today’s murder.” She made it sound like murder was a normal, everyday occurrence, and there was sure to be another one tomorrow.

“And since I found the body, or at least—” she corrected herself “—I was the second one on the murder scene, I’m definitely in the right place.” Clara wriggled her bulk into a more comfortable position on the bench, and managed to scoot Althea to the very edge of her seat.

“And Fred, since he was the hero of the last batch of murders—”

Marisa thought of a batch of chocolate chip cookies, and suppressed her urge to laugh. Since Alex’s eyes were dancing, she was fairly certain he was thinking the same thing.

“—needs to be part of this meeting of the minds as well.”

Alex looked around at everyone. “Clara should definitely be part of our conference. She is full of common sense, she’s obviously fearless after fifty years in the school lunchroom, and she can keep a secret.” Alex gave her an outrageous wink.

“Thank you, Buzzie. I mean Alex. You’re grown up into a handsome young man, in spite of being a bit on the wormy side. If you were still eating in my lunchroom, you’d have some meat on your bones.”

“Miss Clara, if you were ten years younger, I’d go down on one knee and ask you to marry me.”

Marisa decided she’d lost control of the group. She wondered fleetingly if she’d ever
had
control of the group. “I think it makes sense to pool all of our knowledge. I’ll begin.” Marisa told them about the online group, the murder of one of the members, and the suspicion of child pornography activities.

Clara slapped her massive thigh. “You’re a day late and a dollar short, missy. I know all about that.”

Marisa’s mouth fell open. “Verna—”

Pulling her shawl closer, Clara shook her head, her short, suspiciously brown curls sprayed firmly in place. “Not Verna. I pulled up Parvis Stidham’s webpage while the police were milling around. He posted a bunch of new stories early this morning. There was one about the murdered young man, a Knight of the Round Ladies, for heaven’s sake, unless that was a typo. Was that the online group you mentioned?”

Marisa groaned. It appeared Parvis had done it again. She refused to meet Alex’s eyes.

“And there was another story about a stripper who was killed last night while she was dancing. Stidham claimed he was an actual eyewitness. He included a sidebar about women who explore their, er, bisexuality with strippers and the men who haunt the strip clubs night after night—”

Fred roared in rage. “That little traitor! I thought for sure we’d helped him to see the error of his ways! And now...” Fred opened a pocket of The Library, and pulled out his laptop computer. He tilted the screen back and forth, and peered at it. When he grabbed a corner of Clara’s shawl and pulled it over as a canopy for his computer, Clara squealed in protest.

“You’re letting in a draft, Fred! I’ll catch my death!”

“Parvis Stidham used us for information again.” He raised his angry eyes to Marisa. “I’m sorry.” A wealth of meaning hung in the air between them.

Fred looked down the computer. “Nothing about child porn, though.” He slammed the lid shut, and tucked the shawl fringe in around Clara. When his hand lingered, she giggled.

Alex straightened from his position at Fred’s shoulder. “Although he wrote about Sarah and her masquerade, thank goodness he didn’t mention Brandon by name. Of course, he wrote about his ‘eyewitness view’ of the sniper at the gym, but he didn’t mention my or Marisa’s names.”

“Marisa! The sniper!” Althea’s hands flew to her mouth.

“I was at the gym with the now-dead dancer, Alex, Brandon, and Parvis.”

Althea met her eyes.

Seeing the definite question in Althea’s green eyes, Marisa shook her head slightly to signal to her friend her wish to discuss it with her later.

Interpreting the look between Marisa and Althea, Clay changed the subject by picking up the tale. He explained Verna’s excited visit and his and Althea’s subsequent rush to get to the club. They saw the dancer lose her footing on the stage, and fall into the crowd.

“There’s one thing that stands out.” Clay turned to Alex. “What were you doing in the club, young man?”

Alex’s thin face reddened. “I hadn’t had a chance to tell you, Marisa. Brandon and I talked after you and...after you left the restaurant. Remember when you mentioned KERA at the gym, and Sarah thought it was Cara, a girl’s name? When Sarah didn’t know what KERA was, it made Brandon wonder. Heck, he’s not a teacher, and he knew it was the Kentucky Education Reform Act. He started doing some checking online, and found there wasn’t a teacher at the high school named Taylor. And on the school’s website, there was a picture of the cheerleading coach. Since it’s a guy, there was no way it was Taylor!”

Marisa frowned. “But how did you two know she was at the club?”

Alex scuffed at the ground with the toe of his sneaker. “Brandon and I contacted the members of the online group, trying to see if anyone knew anything about her. A guy responded to our online inquires. He told us he had recognized her at one of the group outings,” Alex continued. “He said she was a stripper at the club and worked Saturday nights. When Brandon decided to go to the club to confront her, I insisted on going with him.”