Murder on the Bucket List (3 page)

“Let's go back to when Mary Ruth opened the shed and the body fell out. What happened after that?”

Francine gave up trying to look dignified on the uncomfortable daybed. She went into a half-lounging position. It didn't help. “I was in the pool at the time. By the sound it made when it hit the concrete and the way the others were reacting to the smell, I suspected it was bigger than a raccoon and probably dead. So I swam over to the side and got out. By then I suspected it was a body. I felt I had to check on it—him—because I'm still a nurse, even if I am retired, and if there was any way to save him …”

“Commendable.”

“But he was stiff to the touch, and when I saw his face I became certain he was dead. I told Alice to call 911, and then we all rushed into the house to get dressed.”

Jud scribbled in his notebook. “And what time was that?”

Francine didn't have to think long. “About twelve fifteen. A neighbor shouted it at us when she told us to be quiet.” She sat up and yawned. Now that the adrenaline rush from finding the body was over, fatigue was setting in. She checked her cell phone. It was nearly two a.m. Perhaps it was a good thing the daybed was uncomfortable.

Glancing around the room, she noticed a grouping of framed photographs just above the dresser. She could see they had race cars in them. She wondered what the significance was. She was so absorbed that Jud's next question startled her.

“How do you suppose Alice was able to prepare the pool this weekend without smelling anything?” he asked.

“Wouldn't it depend on how long he'd been dead? I'm no coroner, but I'm not sure he's been dead all that long. He was still in the grips of rigor mortis, and he didn't smell like he'd decomposed much. It was mostly his waste products that caught Mary Ruth's attention.” Francine suddenly realized she was not helping Alice's cause. If he'd been killed recently, how would he have gotten into the shed without her friend seeing it or somehow being responsible? She quickly amended her answer. “But really, Alice is allergic to everything that exists. Her nose is perpetually clogged. And she said she forgot to add chemicals to the pool, so she never got into the shed.”

“If it was as dark as you ladies insist it was, how could you be certain it was Friederich Guttmann?”

“With a flashlight. Once we knew we had a dead body on our hands, Joy ran into the house and got a Maglite. So we had better light at that point.”

“You have to admit this obsession with darkness makes your group look suspicious.”

“Alice and Larry have a privacy fence, but it's not that tall. Nearly every house around here has a second story. Anyone who wants to see into the back yard, could do it.”

“Did you really think someone would be up after midnight spying to see if the pool was in use?”

Francine was starting to get annoyed. “Jud, for someone who graduated as high up in his class at Brownsburg High School as you did, you ask terribly naive questions. We're old. Most of us have body issues. Do you really think we want bright lights shining on these bodies?”

“If I may say so, you are in terrific shape. You have nothing to worry about.”

Francine blushed. “That's kind of you. But I still wouldn't want to take the chance someone might catch me skinny-dipping.”

“But weren't you up kind of late? Would the neighbors have expected to see you ladies in the pool at that hour?”

“Just because we're old doesn't mean we don't stay up late,” she said, even though she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen midnight. “The pool's heated. Alice and Larry could use it at any time.”

“Did they?”

“I don't know, Jud. Why don't you ask Alice?”

“I already have.”

“Then why did you ask me?” She realized she knew the answer. “To see if what we said matched. I get it. What did she say?”

“She said they really don't use the pool that much. She said they hadn't used it for a week or so.”

“I'm not surprised. Do you mind if I get off this daybed? I think it was brought here straight from Guantánamo Bay.”

Jud had a bemused look on his face. “You can walk around if you want.” He looked down at his notes. “This won't take much longer.”

Francine strolled over to the grouping of five racing photos over the dresser. The outside four were action shots of midget cars going around a track. Midget cars were small, stripped-down cars that looked like rolling cages just big enough for the drivers. The center photograph, however, had a regular-sized NASCAR vehicle in it. In front of it stood Alice and Larry and the driver of the #51 car, Brownsburg's own racing success story, twenty-four-year-old Jake Maehler. At least, most everyone in Brownsburg regarded him as a success, even though she knew he hadn't won a NASCAR race yet.

She took hold of the ornate white frame and lifted the picture from the wall to get a better look. Clearly it was taken at a racetrack, though Francine didn't know which one. The palm trees revealed it was not in the Midwest.

“Do you have any idea how the body got into the pool shed?” Jud asked. “Could any of your friends have had something to do with it?”

“Absolutely not. We've all known each other for at least twenty-five years. If we had any secrets, Charlotte would have pried them out of us by now.”

Jud laughed in spite of himself. “I'm saving the interview with her for last. She'll probably try to interrogate me.”

Francine thought back to Charlotte's dealings with the Town of Speedway police force. “I'd watch your step. Ever since she helped the Speedway police prove her uncle was murdered …”

“I have friends who work there. I've been warned. But what were the odds she'd be involved in another murder case?”

Francine lifted her hands, palms up.

Jud cleared his throat. “Now, please don't get upset. We're asking everyone this question: Can you account for your whereabouts on Saturday?”

A clue
, Francine thought.
He must've disappeared on Saturday or they wouldn't be asking
. “Let's see. Saturday morning we got up around seven. I fixed breakfast and we read the paper. I did some house cleaning. After lunch I gardened while Jonathan mowed the grass. Then in the afternoon I picked up Charlotte and we went grocery shopping. She has physical therapy on Saturday mornings, which wipes her out, so I come over after her nap and get her going again. Then she, Jonathan, and I went out for dinner. Charlotte likes the Bob Evans out by the interstate so we went there. I'm sure you can verify all of that.”

“Did you know Friederich Guttmann?”

She shook her head.

“Did any of your friends know him?”

“You mean like Mary Ruth or Alice? They recognized him, but I'm not sure they knew him personally. I'd never heard them mention him before.”

Francine stared at the photo in her hands. She learned in her Google search that Friederich had been Jake Maehler's longtime mechanic when Jake had been younger and involved in midget car racing. Alice and her husband had been longtime fans of Jake's. Was there a connection there? She didn't know, and she wasn't going to bring it up. She tried to hang the picture back up, but in her affected
nonchalance, it slipped out of her hands.

BAM! The frame hit the floor, face-side down. In an instant Jud was there, picking it off the floor. He helped her rehang it but studied it when he noticed who was in the photograph.

“Do Alice and Larry know Jake Maehler?”

“I really don't know.” He continued to look at her the way policemen do on cop shows when they don't believe someone. “That's the truth,” she protested.

“I believe you,” he said, though Francine thought he sounded unconvinced. “But I am going to check my notes to see if Alice mentioned it. If she didn't, I'll ask her about it.”

Francine hoped she hadn't gotten her friend in trouble.

“You can go now,” Jud said, gathering up his notes. “But if you think of anything else, please get back in touch with me.”

“Okay.” She left the room hoping Charlotte would be interviewed soon so the two of them could start comparing notes before it got much later. She also wanted to tell her about the ugly blue bedroom.

three

Charlotte came downstairs gripping
the handrail with one hand and her cane with the other. She moved both feet to one step before progressing to the next. Francine waited at the bottom step.

“I tell you, Francine, that Jud was a real horse's ass, practically accusing me of the murder and asking for my alibi on Saturday. Although,” she said, dropping her voice conspiratorially, “that must be the day Friederich disappeared.”

“I figured that out too. We all got asked for alibis.”

“When I offered my help, he flat out turned me down.”

“You know it's not good for you to get involved in murder investigations. That needs to be left to the police.”

“You sound just like him.”

Francine dangled the car keys in front of her. “It's three a.m. I think it's time we just went home.”

“You can't mean that! We all came prepared to spend the night. Or what's left of it. If we go now, we'll miss watching the police do their procedures.”

“All the more reason. You won't sleep, and if you don't sleep you'll keep me up too. Besides, I think this is between Alice and the police.”

“Maybe I don't want to go home with you.”

“Listen to her, Charlotte,” Jud said. The two women turned and looked back up the stairs to where Jud stood on the top step. “We need for all of you but Alice to leave.”

He descended the stairs. Francine tried to help Charlotte out of the way, but it took some doing. She seemed intent on standing her ground.

When Jud stepped off the bottom stair, Charlotte advanced a step. “Jud,” she said, just loud enough that the three of them heard, “don't you think it had to be someone in the neighborhood who put the body there? Someone who knew the Jeffords, knew they hadn't used the pool in a while and weren't likely to use it anytime soon?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about it, Jud. The person who killed Friederich was clearly in a hurry to get rid of the body. Otherwise, you drive west out of Brownsburg and you've got cornfields all the way to Pittsboro. Dump a body there, no one's gonna find it till harvest time. They must have needed somewhere close where no one would think to look, at least for awhile. Someone who knew Alice and Larry certainly would see their pool shed as a good bet.”

He nodded. “That's a valid point. The shed is inside the privacy fence, so someone doing a casual drive-by wouldn't notice it. But if you want to restrict this to people who knew the Jeffords, it would make you and your Bridge Club, who knew them best, strong suspects.”

Charlotte snatched up her cane and waved it at him. “Jud, I've known you since you were in diapers. If you don't stop accusing us of the crime …”

“I know, I know, you'll call my mother up and have her slap me in the face until my cheeks turn red. You already threatened that.”

Francine turned to Charlotte. “Tell me you didn't say that.”

Her friend shrugged.

“The point,” Jud said, seizing control of the conversation, “is that it doesn't clear you. However, I'll keep it in mind.”

Despite Francine's best efforts to get her to the car, Charlotte wouldn't leave until she'd made a go at the evidence tech, the coroner, and the uniformed policemen who protected the crime scene. None of them told her anything, and Alice was in no mood to deal with her, either.

In the meantime, Francine responded to a text that came in from Jonathan. She learned Alice's house was cordoned off with crime scene tape, attracting attention. Jonathan was among the throng of people on the sidewalk across the street.

Francine went to the front window and looked out. Sure enough, a mob of neighbors had gathered under a streetlamp. Apparently it hadn't taken long for news of the dead body to spread after the sirens sounded and the police cars arrived in force. Jonathan wanted her to come home right away, but she texted him that she had to drop off Charlotte first. He wasn't happy, and neither was she. She texted him to go on home, and she promised she would be there soon.

This is like a train wreck
, she thought, marveling at all the people outside.
They think they don't want to see it, and then when it happens, they all do.

She went to find Charlotte, took her firmly by the arm, and, helped by Jud, moved her to the front door.

“Remember, don't say anything to the press until we're ready to make a statement,” Jud said. “And say nothing of substance to your friends.”

Francine assured him they wouldn't and took it from there. She hauled Charlotte down the driveway and into
the car as fast as they could go. Charlotte sputtered in defiance, but Francine was firm.

“Well,” Charlotte said, twisting in the slick leather passenger seat of the Prius after the doors were shut, “we need to talk in the morning.”

“
Late
morning.” Francine yawned. “Maybe afternoon.” She put the key in the ignition.

“You sure you're gonna be able to sleep after seeing Friederich's dead body?”

“I will if you'll quit talking about it.” The car started with that dead quiet Francine had come to associate with the hybrid vehicle. It rolled away from the curb noiselessly.

“Why would somebody shove Friederich Guttmann into Alice's pool shed?” Charlotte asked, ignoring Francine's request.

Francine was grateful she didn't have far to drive. Charlotte lived a few streets over at the opposite end of Summer Ridge, but since she had a bad knee, no one expected her to actually walk.

“Charlotte, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking this murder is a godsend. You think you can solve it and finally check the number-one item off your Sixty List. Well, I'm here to tell you not to get involved. It's dangerous, you know it, and you also know you should have checked that top goal off your list a year ago. You
did
solve your uncle's murder. The police were the first to credit you with that.”

“I was soooo close,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. “But I didn't quite have the motive right.”

“Close enough for anyone else. You know what I think? I think you've got a morbid curiosity you can't control. It's why you like Dean Koontz. If gore had weight, his books would have to be stored on reinforced shelves at the library.”

“Seriously, now, that location has
got
to be the key. If we figure out why, of all the outdoor sheds in Brownsburg, Friederich's body got dumped in Alice and Larry's, I bet we can narrow down the suspect list to just a couple of people.”

“
We
,” Francine said, and she paused to let that sink in, “will do no such thing.
We
will let the police do their job.”

“They need our help. We were the witnesses, after all.”

“We didn't witness anything. All we did was discover the body.”

“They don't know Brownsburg like we do.”

“Sure they do, Charlotte. Jud has lived here all his life. His mother's family was one of the founders of St. Malachy's Catholic Church.”

Charlotte fussed for a couple of moments, tapping her cane on the floorboard. “I hope you won't be so cranky in the morning.”

“We're not going to discuss this anymore,” Francine said with conviction, aided by the fact they were pulling up to Charlotte's house. She helped her to the front door and made sure she got inside safely. Charlotte thanked her for the ride, which Francine appreciated. Charlotte could be difficult, but they were best friends.

Jonathan was waiting up for Francine when she got home. He hugged her and they talked for half an hour until she felt she had finally let go of the image of Friederich's lifeless body. When she was tired enough to sleep, they went to bed.

But Francine slept fitfully, her body snatching only occasional sleep from her too-active brain. How much later she had the dream, Francine didn't know, but that gray lifeless face she'd seen when he flopped onto his back suddenly reappeared in her dream. Then someone nudged her.

She sat up and screamed. Bright sunshine invaded her world.

Jonathan backed away, gripping the portable phone.

“Sorry,” Francine said, pulling herself together. “Bad dream.”

“I guess,” Jonathan said.

She pulled the sheet around her and shivered, even though it was summer. She remembered Friederich's face. His eyes had been closed. Had the murderer closed them, or had Friederich closed his own eyes before death? She didn't remember seeing any blood. That was curious. “This couldn't be a nightmare, could it?” she asked Jonathan, hoping her heart rate would slow soon. “It really happened, didn't it?”

Jonathan nodded. He held the phone with one hand and covered the speaker with the other. “Worse yet, your discovery was a big hit on Channel Eight's
Sunrise
this morning. The phone's been ringing off the hook. I've been fielding questions and fending off reporters since seven o'clock. But it's eleven now, and it's your turn.” He held out the phone to her. “Plus, it's Joy. You never know with Joy.”

She knew what he was talking about. A call from Joy could mean she was alerting everyone of a bargain at the grocery store or advising them she was taking up tap dancing. Francine took the phone. “Joy?”

“Ohmigosh! I wish I had that scream on tape!”

“Sorry if I startled you,” she said, though she didn't think Joy sounded all that startled.

“Don't worry—it's going even better than I'd hoped for!” Her chirpy voice occasionally got on Francine's nerves, but never so much as it did now, right after being awakened out of a bad dream. “We were on after the happy news on
Sunrise
, and I got a tip we're leading off the noon news on all the stations.”

“I'll be sure to tune in.”

“Don't be sarcastic. I've already had enough of that from Charlotte. We were too late to make this morning's
Star
, but I talked to the editor of the
Hendricks County Flyer
, and I think we're good for Wednesday's front page. That's their next issue. Tuesday's
Star
, maybe not. We might be page-two news by then.”

“Too bad you ruled out the
Flyer
in your Sixty List or you'd be set.”

“Oh, I've already checked it off. Being on TV is way better than the newspapers. Do you think the police will let us be interviewed eventually?”

“Have they made a statement yet?”

“Well, they confirmed the body was Friederich Guttmann's, but they've not said much else.”

“I don't think that puts us in the clear. You should check with Detective Judson. Did they say how he died?”

“They said the death was not natural.”

“How unsurprising. I'm sure Charlotte will be thrilled.”

“We're both over here at Alice's house. You want to talk to her?”

Francine lay back and let her head sink into the thick, plush pillows.
It keeps getting better and better.
“Not really. What is she doing there?”

“Pacing around the blocked-off crime scene. She's got a notebook and she keeps scribbling things in it.”

“Great. Where are the police?”

“They worked all night and finished up everything but the shed. There's a policeman blocking off access there, but other than that, they've gone.”

“Well, as long as a policeman is there …”

“I know you just got up, but Alice wants to know if you can come over.”

“Technically, I'm not even up yet. I haven't gotten out of bed.” Francine rubbed her left temple. She could feel a headache coming on. She scanned the bedside table for her glasses. “Why does Alice need me? Is Charlotte misbehaving?”

“No, Charlotte's fine. It's all the neighbors traipsing around. Alice is trying to keep them at bay, but they're coming through the bushes in the back yard now. Plus, Charlotte persuaded Mary Ruth's grandson Toby to drive her o
ver, the one who doesn't have a job. He thinks Alice should charge admission and has offered to set something up.”

“Let me take a shower and get dressed, and I'll be over.”

“Thanks, Francine, you're always the levelheaded one. You'll know how to handle this. By the way, watch your step on the way over. The traffic is backed up all the way to the subdivision entrance. Summer Ridge Drive wasn't designed to handle this many cars.”

She remembered that Alice's husband was still away on business. “Is Larry coming back from Las Vegas today?”

“No. He tried to get away from the convention, but he can't get a flight home, and he was scheduled to leave tomorrow anyway. Should Alice be charging admission?”

“No, she shouldn't. Toby should be helping keep the neighbors out. Does Mary Ruth know he's there?”

“I don't think so. She has a catering job at noon and Toby says she left the house before he did.”

Despite her fatigue, Francine tossed back the sheet and got out of bed. This did not sound good. “I'll be right over.”