Murder Makes Waves (11 page)

Mary Alice and I looked at each other. “Your mama and I went over to Emerald Towers to see if we could locate Emily Peacock.”

“That was early, though.”

Mary Alice, Berry, and I were sitting on the sofa. Jason was in one of the rockers, and Frances had chosen a pillow on the floor on which she was perched as if she were riding sidesaddle. “Wait until she tries to get up,” Sister had mumbled. Now she said, “Emily was dead when we got there. She had apparently committed suicide.”

There was the silence of shock. Then we heard a glass crash into the sink, and Frances came up from the floor with such agility that I was right proud of her.

“You found another body?” She looked accusingly from Mary Alice to me.

I could sense Sister bristling. “Yes, we did, Frances. Too bad you weren’t there.”

“I wish I hadn’t been,” I said.

“You found a dead body?” Berry said. And then, “Jason, are you all right?”

Jason Marley was leaning forward, the palms of both hands pressed against his eyes. He didn’t look up when he said, “God, not Emily. Emily’s dead? What happened?”

“She shot herself, Jason.” Sister’s voice was gentle, but the words were harsh with finality.

“Oh, God,” he said. “Not Emily.”

Haley came in from the kitchen with a paper towel wrapped around her bleeding hand and a glass in the other. “Jason?” she said. “Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel better.” She handed him his bourbon; he stared at it as if he weren’t sure what it was.

“I’m going to get me one,” Frances said, disappearing into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Berry asked.

We explained that Emily Peacock lived at Emerald Towers and that we had found her body, apparently a suicide, when we went to tell her about Millicent.

“You’ve found two bodies?” He was beginning to sound like Frances.

“This place is chock-full of bodies,” she called from the kitchen.

“Shut up, Frances,” Sister said. Then to Berry, “Yes. Emily Peacock and Millicent Weatherby.”

“Millicent Weatherby is the woman who owned all the property on the bay?” Berry looked over at Jason Marley.

“
Was
!” Frances again. I might have to belt her one.

“She was.” Jason took a long drink from his glass. “She was the majority stockholder of Bay Ranch. Emily was a
stockholder, too.” He shook his head sadly. “Both of them dead. I can’t believe it!” He turned up the glass, finished the drink, and stood up. “I’m sorry, but I think I’d better call it a night. Berry, I gave you a key, didn’t I? Just come on over any time. You know which room is yours. Thanks, ladies, for the good company. I enjoyed dinner. I hope to see you again soon.” He called “Good night” as he closed the door.

“Well, my goodness,” Mary Alice said. “Reckon he’s all right?”

“I’d say he was just very upset and needed to be by himself,” Haley said.

“Is your hand cut much?” I asked.

She peeled the paper towel back and examined it. “It’s okay. I’ll put a Band-Aid on it.”

Frances had come back into the living room and now she sat in the chair Jason had vacated. “Could Jason be worried about Blue Bay Ranch, Berry? Will the two deaths mess things up?”

“I doubt it. I’m sure everybody in the organization will be emotionally upset but, knowing Jason like I do, everything will be okay legally.”

“But the land was Millicent’s,” Haley said. “Won’t that hold things up until her estate is settled?”

Berry leaned over and put his glass on the coffee table. “No, the land belongs to Blue Bay Ranch Corporation. At least that’s usually the way these things are set up.” He held his fingers in a triangle. “See, this finger is Jason. He wants to develop the land and has the financing to do it. Now,” he wiggled the other finger, “this is Millicent who owns the land. So they form a development corporation with her land and his money.” His thumbs formed the base of the triangle, the corporation. “The land and the money are now the Blue
Bay Ranch Coporation, not Jason’s and Millicent’s, except they are stockholders, of course.”

“So wouldn’t Fairchild inherit Millicent’s shares?” Haley asked.

“I doubt it,” Berry said. “Usually, in a case like this, the original shares revert to the company. It’s for the protection of the development. I expect Millicent had a hefty insurance policy for her husband, though, that the company paid for so he wouldn’t be left out in the cold if she died before the development was completed.”

“A million dollars,” I said.

Berry nodded. “I figured it would be a good one.”

“So any shares Emily Peacock had in Bay Ranch would revert to the company, too,” Sister said.

“I imagine so, if we’re talking about the original charter here.”

Haley spoke up. “So what you’re saying is that now the two women are dead, Jason Marley is the principal share-holder of Blue Bay Ranch.”

“Hell, he may be the only one.” Berry looked at Haley and shrugged.

“What were y’all doing over at Emerald Towers anyway?” Haley asked. Berry had said good-night and left not long after Jason had and the four of us had somehow ended up at the dining-room table. Sister, I noticed, was sipping plain Coke again.

“I volunteered,” Mary Alice said. “Fairchild was trying to locate Emily to tell her about Millicent’s death. He didn’t think she was at home but figured some of her neighbors would know how to get in touch with her at her daughter’s.”

I pressed my fingers against my temples. “It was awful. She’d been there for two days.”

Sister got up. “The Chicken and Stars may make a return visit.” She disappeared into her room and shut the door.

“Do, Jesus!” Frances said. “The surgeon general ought to label this place as hazardous to your health.”

Haley turned to me. “Do you think it was a suicide, Mama?”

“She left Fairchild a note saying she was sorry. Who knows?”

“Maybe we ought to talk Aunt Sister into going home.”

“Fat chance. We couldn’t get your Aunt Sister out of here with a crowbar. Besides, Officer Andrews has informed us we have to stay at her beck and call.”

“You know what?” Frances was shredding a paper napkin into strips and making a neat stack. “I read a book one time about all these women who decided to do away with their husbands, collect the insurance, and travel. They went all over the world. Had a great time.”

Haley and I looked at her. She tore another strip and placed it on the stack.

“So?” I asked.

“So maybe that’s what we’ve got here. We’ve got two widowers, already. Fairchild and Jason Marley. Three counting Berry West. Now what are the odds against that?”

“They’re killing their wives so they can travel?” I asked.

“Of course not.” Frances gave me a withering look for being a smart aleck. “It’s got something to do with Blue Bay Ranch.” Another strip hit the pile. “Mark my words.”

“But Emily committed suicide. And she didn’t make anyone a widower.”

“But her death made them richer. Except for Berry.”

True. After we were in bed, I kept thinking of all the wealthy widowers involved with Blue Bay Ranch. Before I put out my light, I did remember, though, to tell Haley that
Sophie had come by to get her to go see the turtles coming in to lay their eggs.

“I’m sorry I missed that,” Haley said.

“Well, she said they would probably come in tomorrow night, too. She said she’s on patrol protecting the nests, that Millicent had been taking her.”

Haley put her book down. “That was why Millicent didn’t want to sell the land over on the bay, wasn’t it? I wonder if Jason Marley will remember there’s such a thing as the environment.”

“I hope so. You know, he’s younger than I thought he was. I saw him talking to Fairchild the other night and I could have sworn he was bald.”

Haley giggled. “Mama! You thought that rug was his hair? It wasn’t even on straight when he left.”

“Well, I guess you just inherited your father’s power of observation, not your mother’s.” I turned off my light and closed my eyes. Smartass child!

“Mama?”

“What?”

“I’m really sorry you and Aunt Sister were the ones who found Emily. I know it must have been awful.”

“It was.” I heard the elevator open and close. Probably the Berliners coming back from the turtle watch. The elevator. “
Stupid! Stupid! Get in the elevator, you stupid bitch
!” I sighed and turned on my side. Damn it! Why did I keep remembering that dream?

Sometime during the night, I came awake to hear Haley snoring slightly. Heavy breathing, she would call it. And though the elevator didn’t open, I lay awake for a long while and realized that I hadn’t told Haley that Fred was coming to Destin. I also realized that she hadn’t talked to Philip the night before. Whatever that meant.

I
awoke the next morning to the sounds of Haley trying to get dressed without making any noise. The dresser drawer creaked as she opened it; she dropped what may have been a shoe.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled.

“There’s a heavy fog. I’m going to go for a run.”

Fogs are a rarity in June along the Florida Panhandle. The humidity is there, but the temperature usually doesn’t drop below the dew point. When it does, and fog forms, it’s like a cool blanket that muffles sound. By eight or nine o’clock, it’s gone.

“If you’ll keep it to a brisk walk, I’ll go with you,” I said.

“I’m about ready. Why don’t I go run a little while and meet you back at the stile?”

That suited me. As much as I like walking in the fog, I also need a coffee jump start.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“About seven. Want a cup of coffee? I’ve already made it.”

“Bless you, my child.”

After Haley left, I pulled on a pair of baggy white shorts and a T-shirt I had bought at a garage sale, which proclaimed in large blue letters that I was a Happy Camper. Then I took my coffee into the living room and admired the fog, which was so thick it feathered onto the balcony. The beach was barely visible, and the water and fog were one.

Mary Alice wafted into the room in the pink peignoir that had almost blinded poor Fairchild. “What are you doing up so early?” she asked.

“Going walking in the fog. Haley’s already gone. You want some coffee?”

“I’ll get it. I didn’t sleep worth a damn last night. Did you?”

“Better than I thought I would.”

“I even got up and worked on my story some, the one about the manic-depressive man who marries all the lesbians. But I really couldn’t get into it. You know?”

“Hmmm.”

She went into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and came back. “So I told myself, I said, Mary Alice Tate Sullivan Nachman Crane, you don’t know these people well enough, don’t know what makes them tick.”

“You don’t know a wheelchair repo man, either.”

“But I’ve had some pretty sad jobs. Some that would suck the very soul from you.”

“I don’t remember you having any sad, soul sucking jobs.”

“Well, I did. Like the summer I kept the Bishop kids.”

“All you did was baby-sit.”

“But I was seventeen. And the three-year-old would hold her breath until she passed out. Scared me to death the first few times she did it.” Mary Alice sat on the sofa and reached for the remote. “My whole seventeenth summer.”

“The three husbands being buried together would make an interesting story,” I said.

“That is nice, isn’t it? Ecumenical. A Catholic, a Jew, and an agnostic. I swear, though, it’s not a perfect situation. If one of them has a birthday and I take him flowers, I don’t want the others to feel left out so I have to buy them some, too.”

“Only fair.”

Sister looked at me suspiciously. I bent to tie my shoe.

“Are you going to be at the conference all day?” I asked.

“It finishes at lunchtime. Then there’s the reading tonight.”

“And Major Bissell’s hanging in there?”

“Actually, he’s pretty good. The story he brought to be critiqued was a mystery where they caught the killer because of a matchbook. They figured out he was left-handed because of the way the matches were pulled out. Think about it, Mouse, how you pull matches from a folder. Which side.”

“He was writing about what he knows.” I slipped on a nylon windbreaker. “Be careful going down 98 if the fog hasn’t lifted. You want us to wait for you to go to lunch?”

Sister shook her head no. “Some of us will probably eat down there.” She turned the volume up on “Today,” where Martha Stewart was busy demonstrating herbs that would grow happily on your kitchen windowsill. “This woman,” Sister grumbled, “obviously does not have a Bubba Cat.” Which made me think of my Woofer and miss him. He
loved to walk in the fog, skittering from lampposts to trees as if the moisture had brought out all kinds of messages.

Eddie Stamps from next door was sitting on the stile drinking a cup of coffee. The fog was so dense, I wasn’t sure it was him until I approached the steps.

“’Morning, Patricia Anne,” he said. “I saw your daughter a while ago. She said she was going running.”

“’Morning, Eddie. Which way did she go?”

“Toward the jetties.”

“If she’s not back in a little while, I’ll head that way.” I sat down beside him on the bench. “Rough news last night. How are you this morning?”

“Okay, I guess. I stayed with Fairchild again. He was still asleep when I walked down here. I need to get out some, thought I’d take the boat out this morning.” He gestured toward the water. “Looks like it’s going to be a while, though. Suits me; I like the fog. Laura hates it.”

“Laura said you went with Fairchild yesterday to make the arrangements for Millicent’s funeral.”

“It’s in the morning in De Funiak Springs, that little chapel on the lake. You know where it is?” He leaned over to pick a sandspur from his pants leg and then threw it behind the stile, into the sea oats. “Those things hurt like hell when you step on them.”

“Have you heard anything more about Emily?”

“No.” He ran his hand through his white hair. Beads of moisture flew backward. He looked at his wet hand in surprise and then wiped it against his khaki pants. “I’ll tell you what, though. I never would have figured Emily Peacock as a suicide.”

“She wasn’t depressed?”

“Depressed? Hell no. Happy as a lark. Said she and Jason
Marley were planning on getting married this fall. Least that’s what she told Laura.”

“Really?” If it were true, it explained why Jason had been so upset the night before. What a horrible way to learn about the death of someone you loved! And then I remembered that Emily had been dead for two days with the door to her condo open. If they were engaged, how come Jason hadn’t been checking after not hearing from her for that long?

“Could they have broken up?” I asked Eddie. “Could that have been the reason she did it?” It sounded like a fairly logical explanation to me.

“Could have been, I suppose.” Eddie didn’t sound convinced. He squinted over my shoulder toward the building. “Is that Fairchild?”

I turned and saw a figure approaching through the fog. It was Fairchild, all right, dressed in a navy terry bathrobe that he lifted like a lady does an evening dress as he came up the stile steps. On his feet were flip-flops that seemed to be giving him more trouble than the long robe. Is there some law of nature that makes men incapable of walking in flip-flops?

“Good morning,” he said. “I am going swimming. Patricia Anne, if you are easily shocked, I suggest that you avert your eyes.” And with that warning, he stepped out of the flip-flops and shucked the robe, folding it neatly and laying it on the bench beside Eddie. Then, naked as a jaybird, he crossed the beach, walked into the water, which had to be chilly, and started swimming.

“Lord!” I said, remembering that Deputy Andrews had said Fairchild was a member of the Polar Bear Club.

Eddie laughed. “It’s the fog. Drove Millicent crazy.”

“He makes a habit of swimming nude in the fog?”

“Thinks no one will see him. He’s not an exhibitionist, just likes swimming in the buff.”

“But what about his blood pressure?” I looked toward the water where I could hardly see the swimmer. “Will he be all right?”

“Sure. I’m glad to see him out there. Must mean he’s feeling better.”

I wasn’t convinced. “Maybe. But the doctor’s got to have him on all kinds of medication, I’m sure. And, to tell you the truth, if I were a man it would make me nervous as hell to be swimming out there naked with all those hungry fish.”

Eddie laughed again. “Fairchild hasn’t got a thing to be nervous about.”

How on God’s earth had I gotten into this anatomical discussion with this man I hardly knew? I got up and said I’d walk toward the jetties and meet Haley. Eddie said he’d wait for Fairchild, keep an eye on him.

What is it about fog that is so beautiful? Like snow, it brings its own mood, its own quietness. The blurring of the familiar demands that you notice things you usually take for granted. And at the beach, it is especially beautiful. The horizon disappears, and you can’t tell which is water and which is sky. Vapor swirls around you as you walk, and gulls huddle together on the sand as if the weight of the air were too much for their wings.

I had just started down the beach when I saw Haley coming toward me. She was running along the edge of the tide where the sand was packed tightly and (granted, I’m her mother; I’m partial) looked like a nymph just emerging from the water. The illusion was shattered, though, when she stopped in front of me, breathing hard, and asked if that wasn’t a man out there swimming bare-assed.

“It’s Fairchild. He thinks no one can see him in the fog,” I explained.

“’Morning, Fairchild!” Haley shouted. “Take your Vasotec?” The figure in the water raised his arm in a wave.

I grinned. “Don’t do him that way.”

“Are you kidding? I think it’s great. It’ll relax him. If more men would do that, we wouldn’t be unclogging so many arteries in our operating room.”

Which reminded me. “Your papa’s coming down tonight.” We had started walking toward the Redneck Riviera.

“Why am I not surprised? Coming to the rescue.”

“Which is pretty nice after forty years of marriage, Haley.”

“But, Mama, you’re a capable, intelligent woman. It’s patronizing.”

“Of course it is.” I chose not to admit that I had called him blubbering. Someday I would get it straight in my own mind how much I wanted Fred to look after me. In the meantime I said, “It’s his way of showing love. Mine is letting him do it.”

Haley laughed, which didn’t surprise me. Lord, I had sounded pompous. But the way I look at it, a marriage is a separate entity from the couple who forms it. And whatever it becomes is always a surprise.

We huffed on down the beach, reached the Redneck, and turned around automatically. The fog was beginning to burn off and a few people jogged toward us now, making me wonder if Fairchild had made his exit from the water yet.

I stopped, leaned over, and rubbed my right calf. “Wait a minute. I’m getting a cramp.”

Haley jogged a circle around me while I sat on the damp sand and kneaded the muscle. “You need to take some calcium.”

“I do take calcium. Go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’ll wait.” Haley bent and stretched and then sat down beside me. A round patch of sunlight, a perfect spotlight, brushed down the beach toward us. Several appeared on the water. “There goes the fog,” she said. “Look at the sky.”

I did; blue holes were scattered across it.

When we got back to the seawall, rinsed the sand from our feet, and climbed the stile steps, there was no sign of Eddie or Fairchild. The sun was out and the lifeguard was putting up the beach umbrellas. For some reason, I remembered what Eddie had said about Emily and Jason Marley, that they were going to be married, and told Haley.

“Do you think it’s true?” she asked. “He certainly was upset last night.”

“I don’t know. She’d been dead for two days right in her apartment. I wonder why he wasn’t trying to find her, especially to tell her about Millicent’s death.”

“Maybe he was trying. She was supposed to be out of town.”

“Ask me, he wasn’t trying very hard.”

“True.” Haley looked under the bench for a missing sandal. “You know what I wonder?” She came up with the miscreant hooked around her finger. “I wonder how that Blue Bay Ranch thing is set up. If it’s like Berry said, then Jason Marley came out with a bundle when those women died.”

“What are you saying?”

“That he would have had a motive, God knows, to kill them.”

“You sound like your Aunt Sister, Haley. You’re forgetting it was a murder and a suicide.”

“Who says?”

I thought about this for a moment. Mary Alice and I had
both just jumped to the conclusion that Emily had killed Millicent because of the “Forgive me” note. But what reason would she have possibly had? They were good friends.

“Nobody says,” I admitted. “It just seems to fit. The note and all.”

“Why?”

I tried to think of an answer. “God knows. That’s probably one of the things the police are trying to figure out.”

“Hey, y’all!” We looked up and saw Frances waving from the balcony. Next door to her, Fairchild leaned against the bannister in his navy robe and looked down at us, too. Smoke from the fat cigar he was puffing on floated in the air like the fog had earlier.

Laura Stamps was posting the information about Millicent’s funeral on the bulletin board beside the elevator when we came into the lobby. “Did you hear about this?” she asked us.

“From Eddie,” I said.

She looked at the notice. “I added that instead of flowers, memorials be made to the Wildlife Rescue Service. Fairchild says that’s what she would have wanted, and I agree.”