Vi Agra Falls (28 page)

 

C
aitlin was the first to rush to Vivian's assistance. Arlene, ever helpful, was right behind her. “Just let her come round,” Arlene advised. “She's obviously had a terrible shock.”

“It serves her right,” Terri declared, standing over her mother's unconscious form like a victorious boxer. “She's responsible for my father's death.”

The detectives stared at Terri. “What are you talking about?” Griffin demanded. “Who are you? Who's your father? Mr. Di Marco?”

“Not exactly,” Terri replied. “His real name is Johnny Agra. Given name, Carlo Giovanni Agravecchio. He had it changed to John Charles Agra after he dropped out of high school.”

Vivian was starting to stir as Caitlin spoke to her softly and put an arm under her mother's shoulders to prop her up. “Could you get me some water, Mrs. Rankers?” she asked.

“Of course.” Arlene started to hustle off to the kitchen, but paused after a couple of steps. “Don't any of you dare say anything until I get back! Or else talk louder!”

Griffin had turned to Almquist. “Get us some backup. This case is a mess. Call in the patrol officers, or whoever can get here ASAP.”

Almquist seemed embarrassed. “I left my cell in the car. Can I borrow yours?”

“Oh, for—” Griffin once again stopped short. “Here,” she
said, shoving her phone at him. “Do you know how to dial the damned thing?”

“I think so.” Looking forlorn, he wandered out to the front porch.

Vivian opened her good eye just as Arlene returned with the water.

“I want to put my mother to bed,” Caitlin said, looking up at Griffin. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” Griffin replied. “She's not much help to us at the moment, and she's taking up a lot of space in this shambles.”

Caitlin and Arlene managed to get Vivian to her feet. Herself didn't complain about her erstwhile enemy coming to her aid. In fact, she said nothing at all, merely moaning softly as she was half dragged, half carried to her bedroom.

Judith had sidled up to the Griggses, who seemed to be on friendly terms with Frankie and Marva Lou. Mandrake Stokes, hat in hand, stood off to one side, looking pleased with himself.

“Excuse me,” Judith interrupted. “Mr. and Mrs. Griggs, who are you? Wait,” she said, holding up a hand. “I have to make a guess. Mrs. Griggs, your family called you Patsy, and your maiden name is Buss.”

Patrice Griggs evinced surprise. “How did you guess?”

“I didn't,” Judith said. “Everything about you checked out—corn farmers from Iowa. I recalled Marva Lou talking about siblings, and how they could all turn out to be different from each other. Billy was the restless sort, Frankie liked to stay home. She ticked off those qualities along with a third, whose nature was in-between. Marva Lou said, and I quote, ‘my own sister.' It occurred to me that in the context of what she'd been saying, that suggested she was differentiating her sister from someone else's. Her husband's would be the most obvious. What also struck me was a note my cousin found in Frankie and Marva
Lou's room that read, ‘Could Potsy help?' That's what she told me, but I realized—”

“Hey,” Renie broke in, “I wasn't wearing my glasses.”

“Exactly,” Judith agreed. “Anyway, it didn't make sense because Potsy—your father—was dead. ‘Could' implied that Potsy was still alive. I knew your husband called you Trish and that your first name is Patrice. It occurred to me that you might also be known as Patsy, but abandoned the nickname after you got married. I also remembered something Frankie mentioned about Billy and his sporting goods store going bust. He said that Billy might have done better with the farm, which I thought meant the Double UB. It occurred to me later that no one ever referred to Potsy's spread as a
farm
. It was always a
ranch
. The only farm owners involved were Mr. and Mrs. Griggs. I figured Potsy had bought it for his daughter.”

“My, my,” Trish Griggs said sardonically, “aren't you clever?”

Her husband tapped his wife's arm. “Hold on, Trish. I think this lady wants to help, not hinder.”

Mrs. Griggs looked wary. “I don't trust any of these people except Mr. Stokes. And maybe my brother and his wife, since our interests are the same as theirs.” She looked at Frankie and Marva Lou. “I hadn't seen either of my brothers in almost thirty years. I am the eldest, and as kids, our parents spoiled both of those boys. I went to the University of Northern Iowa in Cedar Falls, where I met Wilbur. We visited Pa and Ma a few times, but Billy and Frankie were never around. When Ma died, I couldn't go to the funeral—I'd had gallbladder surgery and was laid up for over two weeks with an infection I'd gotten in the hospital. I used to be chubby, and my hair had gone gray, so when we got here neither of them seemed to recognize me.”

“Sure didn't,” Frankie said, shaking his head. “Not at first, anyway. At the B&B, you reminded me of somebody, but I
couldn't think who until the night of the party, when you came out of the B&B to go someplace. It was your walk. You were always kind of pigeon-toed.” He turned to Marva Lou. “Didn't I say as much?”

“I thought you were crazy when you insisted I look them up on Mrs. Flynn's computer,” his wife confessed. “But I'd never met Patsy. I mean, Trish.” Marva Lou cast a rueful glance at Mrs. Griggs.

As Almquist came back inside, Judith looked at the Busses. “The attempt on your lives was a crude and stupid stunt meant to throw suspicion onto Terri for the murder.” She turned to Griffin. “I'll turn over the box and what's left of the chocolates as evidence.”

“You've been withholding vital information?” Griffin demanded in an irate tone.

“No,” Judith said. “I haven't had a chance to do anything about it until now. There were two boxes, the poisoned ones sent via FedEx to the B&B, and the harmless box that was…” Glancing at Terri, who looked anxious, Judith decided a white lie was in order. “It was my mother's, but she gave it to Terri, who left it on the front porch here. The killer didn't know it wasn't the candy delivered to the Busses.”

“Very confusing,” Griffin murmured. “Are you done?”

“No,” Judith replied and kept her eyes on Terri. “How did you know your father was the victim, and why did you pretend otherwise?”

Griffin had gotten out a notebook. “That's enough. I need names. All of you are going down to headquarters. We have to follow procedure. You'll be interviewed one-on-one.” She turned to Judith. “Your neighbor and that other person,” she went on, glancing at Renie, “can stay here with Mrs. Buss until she's able to be questioned.”

“I don't babysit lushes,” Renie snapped.

“Keep it simple,” Judith said to Griffin. “You've got to nail a killer.”

“Oh, of course!” the female detective said mockingly. “Why don't you tell us who it is?”

“Let me finish,” Judith retorted. “Let Terri answer my question.”

Terri's belligerence disappeared. “I always knew,” she said, wearily collapsing on the sofa, “but I was scared. I told Dad I was moving up here. I hadn't seen him for a long time, so he told me he'd come, too. He found out my mother had remarried, this time for big bucks. He was doing okay in the Bahamas, but he wanted to put the squeeze on her. What he'd never told me until then was that he and my mother were…” Terri closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath. “They were never divorced. Neither of them had signed the final papers. Legally, my parents were still married.”

“Blackmail?” Griffin said in a stern voice.

“Does it matter?” Terri snapped. “He's dead.”

“Hey!” Griffin took a few steps closer to Terri. “Your voice! I recognize it now! You're Aileen Rosenthal!”

Terri hung her head. “I borrowed the name from my stepmother. I didn't want to use my own. Let's face it—Dad was always just a whisker away from going to jail. He was a dreamer and a schemer. He'd been calling himself Di Marco for years. That's why my stepmother used it for her so-called movie career. I gave you phony information because I was scared. I was pretty sure who'd killed Dad, so I had to pretend I didn't know he was the victim.”

Judith nodded. “You went outside that night, didn't you?”

“Yes.” Terri covered her face with her hands. “I found my dad's body. It was awful. I didn't know what to do. I'd been
drinking, so I went back to the basement and drank some more until I passed out.”

“No wonder,” Judith said. “Had you sent letters to your dad?”

“You mean to my mother's house?” Terri nodded. “I thought he was already here. He was always unpredictable.”

Judith nodded. “Go on. Let's move up to this evening. I take it you asked for help from Caitlin, who put you in touch with Mr. Stokes.”

Terri nodded. “Mr. Stokes turned out to be a big help.” She managed a faint smile for the dapper man who was still standing in place, hat in hand. “He represents the buyers for the Buss ranch.”

Mandrake Stokes bowed. “Indeed. It was vital for me to find the legal owner before the college moves ahead with the purchase. Given that Mrs…Agra?…was never married to the late Mr. Buss, the offer must be made to his lawful heirs, William Buss, Franklin Buss, and Patrice Buss Griggs.” He sketched another bow. “I'm at your service.”

“Swell,” Frankie Buss said.

“Finally,” Patrice Griggs murmured.

“Incredible!” Caitlin exclaimed, standing in the doorway that led to the bungalow's two bedrooms. “It turns out I'm a bastard!”

“Consider this,” Judith said, moving to the younger woman's side. “You were never legitimate in the Catholic Church's eyes. The marriage was invalid because your mother was divorced—or so everyone believed. That's why your dad didn't need an annulment to marry me.”

Caitlin shook her head in dismay. “What a muddle! Oh, what's the use? I can't change the past.” She grimaced. “I hated betraying my mother, but it was unlawful for her to inherit the
estate and leave the rightful heirs with nothing. I couldn't look Claude in the eye if I didn't do the right thing.”

The sound of “How Dry I Am” caught everyone's attention. Griffin went to the door, asking who was there. Judith heard Darnell Hicks's muffled voice. “Come in,” Griffin said, opening the door for the patrol officer and his partner, Mercedes Berger. “We need to bring in several of these people for questioning.”

“How many?” Mercedes asked, looking around the crowded living room. “We don't use a bus for patrolling this neighborhood.”

“Speaking of ‘bus,'” Judith said, “where are Billy and Adelita?”

Darnell grinned. “They're already at headquarters.”

Griffin looked startled. “You arrested them?”

Mercedes shook her head. “They're trying to find a judge or somebody who can marry them.”

“We had to cite Billy Buss—again,” Darnell explained. “We stopped him for speeding by the civic center. Adelita's family is in town from Campeche, Mexico, staying at the Travel Inn. Billy and Adelita were going to be married in Mexico a couple of years ago, but Mr. and Mrs. Vasquez didn't approve of him, so they headed for Florida, and…” Darnell looked bemused. “I guess Billy's been trying to butter up Adelita's parents. The Corona beer in the trunk wasn't for Billy. It was a gift for Mr. Vasquez, but he wouldn't accept it until Billy made an honest woman of his daughter.”

Judith slapped her hand to her head. “I should have guessed! Billy's strictly a Miller man!”

Griffin glared at Darnell and Mercedes. “You aren't letting them get away, are you? This case isn't solved.”

“We know,” Mercedes said, darting a glance at Judith. “But we're confident it will be. We have a tail on Billy and Adelita just in case. The latest word is that they're wondering if a ferry captain could perform the ceremony out in the bay.”

Griffin seemed flummoxed. Almquist was gobbling up some Fritos that had been spilled on the floor. “Excuse me,” Judith said, “but you can forget about Billy and Adelita? Put out an APB for the real killers.”

Griffin glared at Judith. “And who might they be?”

“Barry Henckel and Doug Campbell,” Judith replied. “Who else?” She turned to Terri. “Do you know where they might be?”

Terri's face flushed. “Yes. They're in the trunk of my mother's Bentley.”

 

T
he following Monday was clear and warm under the midday sun. The cousins sat on Renie's deck, taking in the view of the mountains to the east and the sprawl of the city's suburbs up into the foothills.

“So Caitlin's on her way to Switzerland,” Renie remarked. “I'm glad she and Joe had a chance to get caught up.”

“So am I,” Judith agreed. “Thanks again for giving us some of that wonderful salmon Bill caught. Caitlin enjoyed it, too.”

Renie looked at her watch. “Bill should be back from the cannery with the fish he had smoked. I ought to check on the plumber to see how he's coming along upstairs.”

Judith picked up the empty glass that had been full of lemonade. “I should stop at Falstaff's on the way home.” She watched a robin fly from branch to branch in the Joneses' huge Blue Atlas Cedar. “I'm still amazed at Terri managing to trick her two rotten half-bothers and turn them over to the cops.”

“Every so often people surprise me,” Renie admitted. “Terri's got some smarts. If she puts her mind to it, she can find a decent job.”

“True,” Judith agreed. “I still wonder where
my
smarts went. Terri laid it all out for me, and I missed the boat.”

“Don't beat yourself up,” Renie urged. “You fingered the
killers eventually. Besides, there were a couple of crucial pieces she left out.”