Saint Patrick's Day - The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club Part III: A Dark Comedy Cozy Mystery With A Twist (5 page)

Her attorney friend had called her back within the hour. He informed Meredith that as the gates to the park were not locked and despite the signs warning that the park was just for the neighborhood residents, it would not be a police matter if she was accused of trespassing. It would be a civil infraction. She was breaking no law, and her attorney friend was surprised that police would even turn up if ever called.

Meredith intended to make a point and to take a stand. She would return to the park, walk her dog, and allow him to run free just as the other dogs did. No old hag would stop her. She also had another idea. She would start a dog-walking club, and invite everyone she knew who owned a dog to join. Friends, neighbors, she would even place a notice on Craigslist and on every noticeboard she could fine. She would invite them all to join her in Gordonston’s Park. They could come from anywhere, from any area of Savannah, she didn’t care, and that horrid old lady had no idea what was coming her way. Who the hell did she think she was? Dictating to her like that. What on earth did she think she could do, have her shot? The stupid old bitch.

She grabbed her laptop from her desk, sat it on her knees, and logged into her e-mail and then her Facebook account. It was time to rally the troops and go to war with the old lady and Gordonston.

Chapter 6

Kelly Miller had had a good day. Spending time in the park with Cindy, Heidi, and the dogs had been fun. She loved talking with the ladies, sharing neighborhood gossip, drinking cocktails and enjoying the peace and tranquility of the park. Both women had been so friendly towards her, Cindy especially. She had offered to cook for her, to teach Kelly how to bake apple pie and peach cobbler. She had even offered to dog-sit Biscuit, Grits, and Schmitty if ever she and Elliott needed to go out of town or had to attend an event. She had even offered to look after the dogs if they ever needed to take an extended vacation. Cindy had assured Kelly that she was always at their disposal and always ready to help.

Heidi had also been extremely kind. She had inquired about Elliott’s health, his plans, and his reading habits. Which had been a little odd, thought Kelly, but she supposed it was probably just the old lady’s way of being polite and friendly. Bless her heart, thought Kelly, she even offered to send Betty Jenkins around to clean for them. “Just give me a key,” she had said, “and I will send Betty around anytime you want.” How kind and thoughtful of her.

That evening, Kelly and Elliott would be entertaining. No one special, Elliott had told her, just the Chief of Police, Jeff Morgan. Kelly had worked hard though, preparing the house and cooking. Maybe she would call on the services of Betty Jenkins after all, and maybe she would ask Cindy for some cooking tips in the future. She struggled with preparing dinner but she had done her best. She just hoped that Elliott wouldn’t be disappointed.

Elliott was due home at seven and Jeff was due to arrive shortly afterwards. Kelly, as well as cooking, had spent the better part of the afternoon fixing her hair, applying makeup, trying on dresses for the evening, selecting then discarding shoes, and just about doing as much as she could to make herself look even more attractive than she already was.

As she sat at her dresser and stared into the mirror, she recalled again that afternoon in the park. Cindy had sure seemed interested in Paris. She had even mentioned the hotel, and it hadn’t been the first time. It seemed that every time Kelly saw Cindy, she would always mention France, Paris, or The Hotel Bonaparte. Kelly was positive that Cindy knew nothing of her encounter with Billy Malphrus, but still, it was a little unnerving to hear Cindy constantly talking about the place. What if she did know, thought Kelly? Elliott wouldn’t care, she was sure of that; it was before they had married and she had been duped. Elliott loved her too much to judge her that way. Cindy probably hated Billy just as much as she did, probably even more so. Even if she did know, Kelly saw no reason why Cindy would even mention it; they were friends after all. Kelly pushed the thought from her mind and continued brushing her perfectly cut and styled blond hair.

Elliott arrived home promptly, as he had promised, at seven. He kissed his wife, took a shower, and helped Kelly set the table for dinner. As he said he would, he had picked up two bottles of wine to accompany the chicken casserole Kelly had spent the day cooking.

“He will be here soon,” said Elliott checking his watch “You look absolutely divine, like a goddess. I have to be the luckiest man in Savannah,” he said smiling at his beautiful wife.

“Oh, darling, I love you so much,” replied Kelly as she kissed her husband on the cheek, “if not the luckiest then the most chivalrous and definitely the most powerful man in Savannah.”

Elliott shook his head and laughed of his wife’s comment. “Shall we open a bottle now?” he asked, indicating to one of the bottles of wine that now sat in the center of the prepared dinner table

“Yes, why not?” replied Kelly, handing Elliott a glass. Just as he was about to pour himself and Kelly a glass of chardonnay, the doorbell rang. “Well, I guess he is here,” said Kelly with a smile.

Jeff Morgan arrived, just as Elliott had, on time. Unlike Elliott though, he hadn’t showered. “Come in Jeff, come in,” said Elliott as he opened the door of his home for his guest. “Where is your moped? Did you ride it here?” He asked, as he peered out of the door and looked along the street.

Morgan shook his head.“No, I used the official car. I think I am outgrowing the moped.”

“That is nonsense,” replied Elliott. “You may have put on a few extra pounds but you certainly haven’t outgrown it. I’ve seen bigger guys than you riding those things.”

Morgan looked puzzled. “I mean outgrown in the sense that I am the chief of police. I think it more dignified that I drive a car than ride a moped.”

“Ah,” said Elliott, “that’s exactly what I meant. Anyway, come in, come in. Kelly has cooked us up a lovely dinner and we have much to discuss.” Elliott indicated for Morgan to enter the home and then led him to the dining room, relieved that Morgan hadn’t picked up on his social faux pas. Kelly, looking splendid in an expensive and figure-hugging red dress kissed Jeff on the cheek and told him to sit down and to relax. She poured him a glass of wine, which he thanked her for.

The evening progressed cordially; rinks were drunk, appetizers were eaten, the talk remained small and the chicken tasted delicious. Maybe Kelly didn’t need any assistance from either Cindy or Betty.

“So Jeff,” said Kelly after she returned to the dining room after clearing the plates from the table, “next time you come here I insist that you bring a date with you. I mean, you must have women flocking after you, a man as important as yourself.” Kelly took a sip of wine, grinned at her husband and then at Jeff.

“Well, right now, I am just too busy for romance,” said Morgan, looking a little uneasy as he shuffled in his seat. “What with work and things. Your husband here has kept me busy by increasing the budget and providing me with more resources. It’s paperwork mainly, you know that keeps me fully occupied. This is my first home-cooked meal in months, and may I say that it was delicious.”

Kelly smiled, pleased that Jeff had enjoyed her cooking. Elliott also smiled. Morgan was right. Elliott had increased the Police Department’s budget and his crime fighting policies and initiatives were working. The crime rate was down sixty percent from the time he had taken office, and both he and Morgan had been lauded and credited as the ones who created the economic boom that had turned Savannah into a major conference location. Their efforts were also cited as the reason for the doubled tourism revenue. Elliott knew he had done the right thing by appointing Jeff Morgan as chief of police, despite the protestations of Sam Taylor. It wasn’t just because he had helped him with the Tom Hudd investigation, or lack of one. It wasn’t because he had cracked the Deripaska case, which though closed, wasn’t really down to Morgan. In fact, it wasn’t really clear who had killed Oleg Derispaka all those years ago, not after the ‘Feds’ had shown up. He had chosen Morgan for more than one reason. He would do what Elliott told him to do. He would be meticulous, he would work hard, and he would know that he was lucky to have the job. It was better for Elliott to have a chief working for him who was a ‘yes man’ rather than an experienced man like Sam Taylor. Taylor was a man set in his ways, and probably resistant to change, one who would question policy, expenditures, and no doubt argue against anything Elliott proposed.

Morgan also smiled. He was a success. He was important. He had risen dramatically to become the head of the Savannah Police Department. He was young, the youngest Police Chief of any major city in the country. Of course, Elliott Miller had owed him a favor. But he was still his own man. Yes, he did listen to the Mayor’s opinion and advice, and yes, he never disagreed or challenged Elliott’s suggestions, but that didn’t make him a ‘yes man.’ It was loyalty. The mayor’s policies had pushed the crime rate down, and those policies reflected on him. Even though, behind closed doors, it was Elliott spearheading many of the initiatives, the mayor gave most of the credit to Morgan. It had all worked out well. Very well.

“So no Mrs. Morgan anytime in the near future?” teased Kelly, jolting Morgan from his thoughts.

“No, not in the foreseeable future,” replied Morgan

“How about a girlfriend? Maybe just a ‘friend?’ We would love to meet her.”

Again, Morgan shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, and at one point it seemed as if he was even blushing. “No, none of that for me,” he replied “you know, I’m just too busy, what with work and the dogs.”

“Dogs?” said Kelly, “You have dogs?”

“Yes,” replied Morgan, “Two Chihuahuas, Elton and John, they keep me very busy.” Morgan took a sip of wine and smiled. “I love them, they keep me company, and they are very intelligent little fellas.”

“Elton and John. Chihuahuas?” said Kelly.

“Uhum,” replied Morgan, as he reached this time for some water, “lovely boys.”

Kelly seemed surprised. She had never imagined Jeff Morgan to be a dog lover, especially not an owner of a pair of Chihuahuas. She pictured him walking the dogs, fussing over them. Elton and John? How odd.

It was Elliott who interrupted the conversation about dogs. “Well, you learn something new every day don’t you? I say dear, you wouldn’t be offended if I take Jeff here into my study. I have some boring old city business I need to discuss with him,” Elliott looked at his watch, “and isn’t it time for your show to start? “

Kelly squealed, “Oh my God you are right. Yes you guys go on. I cannot bear to miss an episode of Desperate Housewives. Re-runs I know, but I am addicted. Who would have thought that such a little place like Wisteria Lane could have so many secrets and coincidences? But I love it, it’s only make believe, but so entertaining. Okay gentlemen, I shall retire to the den and leave you ‘grown ups’ to talk politics or whatever it is you talk about.” Kelly poured herself another glass of wine, departed the dining room, and headed into the den while Morgan and Elliott made their way to the study.

“So, what have you found out?” asked Elliott, placing his wine glass on the desk. He closed the study door after confirming that Kelly was preoccupied with her TV show.

“Not much. Looks like the Feds are still not saying anything about it. There are no memos, nothing. If it is ‘anything,’ that is. We are still being kept out of the loop, just as we’ve been for the past three years.” Morgan momentarily recalled the day he had discovered the corpse of Ignatius Jackson. He pictured the office, which had contained the files, files which had been taken from him by the ‘men in black’ as he had named them. All the files, apart from one.

“Darn it,” said Elliott, “Who the heck would want me dead? Three years on and still no answers.”

Morgan did not reply.

“But you destroyed the file, right?”

“Yes Elliott, I burned it. Don’t worry, it is gone. You can trust me. Look, it was three years ago. You ask me the same question every week.” Morgan was telling the truth. The file was gone, burned by Morgan years ago, as he had promised. “Look, the fact that three years after all this, you are alive and well tells me one thing; that you are safe, that whoever had a contract out on your life, or whatever it was, doesn’t anymore. I have men drive by your house every hour. Sometimes they are parked out there all night. Nothing. You even have a personal officer who acts as your bodyguard. You are untouchable and well protected. I think you should really forget about this. It is history.”

Miller nodded, “I think you are right. Jackson is dead, so he can’t be involved anymore. I have no enemies, so maybe it was just him, living out a fantasy? You know what, I am not worried. And I appreciate everything Jeff.”

Morgan nodded, though he expected that the mayor would still need reassuring the following week. Elliott Miller was paranoid. There was nothing for him to be concerned about, Jeff Morgan was sure of it. He had to admit that he and the mayor made a pretty good team. Though his intention had initially been to blackmail Elliott, he realized that sharing the information he had discovered would probably serve him better. When he analyzed the situation, what was he going to ask for if he did try and blackmail Elliott, and what did he have to blackmail him with? A file containing Elliott’s name – his photograph and the implication he was to be the target of a hit man. That wasn’t anything. It wasn’t as if it was a list of secret offshore bank accounts, or compromising photographs. In any case, Elliott had made him chief of police anyway, which was more than what he would have asked for. The best thing he had done was to warn Elliott, show him the file and explain what he had seen. It had proven to be a good move.

Elliott and Morgan had searched Ignatius Jackson’s house together, even after the Feds and ‘men in black’ had already removed everything from inside. The house had been empty and put up for sale by the church, so it hadn’t been difficult to get a key on the pretense that Elliott was interested in purchasing the property. They had found nothing. The place had been spotless. No papers, no hidden safes, nothing. The furniture had been removed and they had both concluded that the Feds had taken it all.

“Thanks again, Jeff,” said Elliott. “I guess this thing did die with Ignatius Jackson.”

“I truly think it did,” replied Morgan, once again reassuring Elliott and trying to ease his boss’s paranoia.

Ten minutes later, after both men had rejoined Kelly in the den for one final drink, Jeff Morgan bid his farewells. He thanked his hosts for a lovely meal and their hospitality, shook Elliott’s hand, and headed out the door. On his way to his car he nodded politely at the driver of the unmarked police car that drove slowly by the Miller’s home. The driver nodded back to his chief before Morgan entered his own car, exhaling heavily before driving.