Who Killed the Queen of Clubs?: A Thoroughly Southern Mystery (31 page)

I smiled. The sheriff had told me that when his deputy got to the grove that evening, he found Smitty in a porch rocker, fast asleep. Unlike Olive, who had been desperate, Smitty hadn’t been able to climb the pecan tree, so he had decided to wait until somebody came in the morning and see if they had a ladder. He’d taken the deputy to the tree, but insisted he had to go up first. “The judge told
me
to,” he objected when the deputy started to climb. The deputy reported, “That was one dude I didn’t want to disagree with unless I had to, so I just gave him a leg up.” Halfway up, Smitty had found the envelope Olive had hidden in a broad crotch between two branches.

The workers hadn’t shaken that tree, we would later learn. They feared it was unlucky because it drew the police. “Nuts no good,” they would continue to insist. “Rotten. Cut it down.”

Just as Genna reached the front door, Olive came out from the treatment rooms. “Genna? Wait!” Her right arm was bent and encased in plaster from her fingers to her upper arm. She looked mad enough to fight a pit bull and win.

Genna changed direction and headed her way. “Are you done? Then I can take you home. Adney called and said for you to sleep over at our place tonight.”

“I’m done, all right. They nearly killed me, and didn’t give me anywhere near enough painkiller, but I’m finally done.” She flung a general glare around the waiting room as if it were full of people who all voted on emergency room procedures. In the process, she saw me over in the corner. Her glare turned to a deadly stare. “And where did you go?” she demanded, stomping across the room and standing over me, a harpy with mahogany hair and a sharp beak. “Why did you and Joe Riddley take off like that?”

“We had something to see about,” I said in a level voice, wishing I’d been smart enough to move to a seat nearer the door. “We had to hurry, but fortunately we got there in time.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned away.

“Good. Adney won’t be coming home tonight, by the way. He’s been detained.”

She whirled. “What do you mean, ‘detained’?”

“Kept. Locked up. He’s down at the jail.”

Genna had followed Olive and overheard. “Jail?” she squealed. “You didn’t say that before. Did you tell them he hit me? How could you? He didn’t hurt me, really he didn’t.”

Olive grabbed Genna’s elbow with her good hand. “We’ve got to get down there and bail him out.”

“No bail,” I told her. “The charge is attempted murder.”

“Murder?” Genna squeaked.

I nodded. “When we got to the nursing home, Adney was trying to smother Josiah.”

“Granddaddy Jo?” Genna’s squeaks were getting tiresome, but I reminded myself that she was tired and hearing some really bad news for the first time.

Olive shook Genna’s elbow, which she still held. “This is nonsense. He was probably fluffing his pillows. We need to get down there and talk to that sheriff. By the time I get through, he’ll let us bail Adney out.”

“Sorry,” I informed her. “Only a superior court judge can make that decision. The chief magistrate will write the superior court tomorrow and ask them to send somebody down for a hearing.”

“We can call tonight.”

I shook my head. “We may live in the instant age for most things, but in this case, it has to be a written request from a county magistrate.”

“You did this!” she spat down at me.

I shook my head. “No, Adney did it. The police caught him red-handed. I didn’t even hold his hearing, since I could be called as a witness at his trial. I doubt he’ll be out anytime soon. It is interesting, though, that you and Adney gave the same reason for what he was doing: fluffing a pillow. Makes me wonder if you discussed an excuse ahead of time, in case somebody came in.”

Genna pulled her arm away from Olive to cup both hands over her mouth. Above them, her eyes were wide and dark. “Why would Adney want to kill Granddaddy Jo?”

“Ask Olive,” I suggested. “She’s the one who came down to the grove to be sure you didn’t go home while Adney went to Augusta. She’s the one who went by your house after you left and told Adney it was true Edie didn’t inherit any money from your daddy, and that she didn’t live long enough to inherit the grove. Adney seems to have been under the misconception that Josiah had already given over everything he owned to Edie.”

Genna looked from Olive to me, puzzled. “She had his power of attorney.”

“That’s not the same as ownership. She would have inherited the grove only after Josiah’s death. Now Henry will get it.”

“Henry?” Genna and Olive spoke in shocked unison.

I nodded. “Josiah made a new will last week.”

“Why Henry?” Olive demanded.

At the very same time, Genna protested, “It was Edie who made a new will. She talked to Shep Monday night and arranged to meet him Tuesday morning at his office.”

I replied to Genna. “They went from there to Josiah’s, so he could sign a new will, leaving everything to her for her lifetime and to Henry after that. Did you tell Adney Edie was making a new will?”

“Don’t tell her a thing!” Olive snapped.

But Genna had already nodded. “I was so upset, I had to call him. I was worried Edie would leave all she had to Valerie, after everything Valerie and that Frank did to make her think she was going crazy.”

“Why did you think it was Valerie doing all that?”

Olive put out a hand, but Genna didn’t notice. She said in a bewildered voice, “Olive said so. She said whenever she went down to Edie’s to play bridge, Valerie and Frank were always there, that Frank stayed overnight when Edie didn’t know it, and they changed things in her house to make her think she was going crazy like Gramma Sally did. She even saw them using Edie’s computer one day, and the next week it had pornography on it.”

That raised an interesting question. “How could Olive see them using Edie’s computer? Wasn’t it in her bedroom, at the top of the house?”

If looks could kill, I’d have been ready for the hearse. “I had to use the little girls’ room,” Olive snapped, “and somebody else was in the upstairs one.”

“Or maybe you ran up to open a porn site or two on Edie’s computer. Just like you went down and put blouses in the wash, dishes in the dishwasher, and magazines on the porch.”

“Don’t be silly.” Notice that Olive didn’t deny it. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“To help convince Edie to sell the grove, which you all thought she owned, and move into town. Valerie and Frank had no reason to want Edie to think she was losing her memory, but Adney did. He wanted Edie’s land, didn’t he? He wanted her to sell the grove for housing developments and invest the money—which he thought Genna would eventually inherit. And he wanted Edie to give Genna the strip along the road for his sports complex.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Olive snapped—just as Genna said, “And a small mall.”

“Did you know, Genna, that Adney wrote Edie a detailed letter, outlining how the investment income from the sale of the grove, added to investment income from his estimates of her profits from the sale of her house and the pharmacy, would take care of Josiah for the rest of his life and keep her comfortably for the rest of hers without ever touching the principal? And that he also warned her that the two of you were concerned about her deteriorating mental health and wanted her to be sensible and move into town pretty soon, because recent developments made you both question whether you should consult a lawyer to have her declared mentally incompetent to handle her own affairs?”

Genna collapsed into the chair next to mine, as if the idea was too heavy to contain standing up. “I didn’t say any of that. I was worried about her, sure. She seemed to be forgetting a lot of things. But I wouldn’t have had her declared incompetent or anything.”

“Adney told her you would. Edie kept the letter, of course—she kept everything. Olive found it this morning in a secret tray in Edie’s chest—one that Adney probably didn’t know about, right? I saw Olive take the letter, along with pearls and a gold chain. She left it up in a pecan tree, but the sheriff has it now. Maybe you told her about that secret tray—something like, ‘I hope the robber didn’t find that tray under the lid of Edie’s chest, where she kept her pearls.’ ”

Genna’s gasp was all the confirmation I needed.

“But Edie didn’t respond like Adney thought she would,” I went on. “She knew she wasn’t incompetent, and she knew the grove belonged to Josiah. She found out something else the Sunday afternoon before she died: Pete Joyner was the son of her Uncle Edward. She decided that rather than leave the grove to you and Adney—who have no blood claim to it—she would arrange for Josiah to leave it to Henry, who does. That’s why she called her lawyer—to change Josiah’s will, not her own.”

“But Adney said—Olive said—” Genna protested.

I sighed. “Honey, you’ll do a lot better in life if you don’t believe everything people tell you, no matter how much you trust them.”

“Including all this crap,” Olive spat out. “We don’t have to listen to this. Genna can do what she likes, but you will hear from my lawyer. I don’t have to put up with slander, even from a judge. Come on, Genna, take me home.”

“Don’t go with her, Genna,” I advised. “Tonight she may have helped Adney attempt to kill Josiah. She certainly tried to kill me. It’s entirely possible she even helped Adney kill Edie. I’d rather you went on home and left Olive to me.”

And the deputy I expected any minute.

“You nosy old woman!” Olive lunged at me and caught my neck in the long fingers of her left hand. Even with one hand, she was amazingly strong. She shook me back and forth like a dog worrying a sock as she hissed, “I ought to break your neck! Somebody should have years ago. Adney deserves that business! He’s worked and scrabbled all his life. What did Henry ever do to deserve it? And that old man—he can’t even speak! If Edie had been sensible—”

My air was cut off, her fingers strong. I heard running feet and the desk clerk protesting, “Stop it! Oh, please, stop!” But although the two of us tried to break Olive’s grip, her fingers were stronger than ours combined.

I’d heard of the strength of the insane. Now it clutched my windpipe, and the emergency room was going dark.

May Walker forgive me for anything nasty I ever said to him. If he hadn’t grabbed Olive just in time, I wouldn’t be here to tell this story.

For the rest of my life, I will remember and regret that I was the one who told Olive about Edie’s finances and Adney about Henry’s machetes. I know Adney would probably have found another weapon in the end, but sometimes knowledge is not enough. As penance for my big mouth, and for love of Edie, I sat through his entire trial—except for two hours. I just had to run over to the Hopemore Medical Center to see Meriwether’s new baby. They named him Zachary Garlon DuBose, for his deceased grandfathers. Meriwether is trying to break Jed of the habit of calling him Ziggy.

Adney made a wonderful impression on the jury—friendly, honest, bewildered that anybody could think such evil of him. It might have gone differently if one of the jurors hadn’t had an ex-husband just like that.

And if Olive hadn’t gotten angry during cross-examination. Thanks largely to her temper and pride, Adney won’t be building sports complexes in Georgia in my lifetime.

We were all surprised to find out how deeply Olive was involved in Edie’s murder. She not only admitted it, she bragged about it. What got her goat was the prosecutor asking her, “Do you have any knowledge that your brother and Mrs. Genna Harrison conspired to kill her aunt?”

The defense attorney objected, of course. Genna wasn’t on trial, and the witness had already taken the fifth with regard to what she knew about her brother. But Olive was incensed.

“Genna Harrison doesn’t have the brains for that,” she blazed out. She clutched the witness stand with both hands and glared at the prosecutor with those flat pewter eyes. She then informed the court that she, not Genna, had played the pranks that made Edie think she was losing her mind, and that she was the one who had persuaded Genna it was Valerie and Frank. She had sneaked into Edie’s computer and contaminated it with pornography. “Genna doesn’t know the first thing about computers!” She also boasted about what none of us suspected—that during Edie’s final Sunday afternoon bridge party, while playing winning bridge, she left the game, took the keys from the pantry, and stole Henry’s machete from the shed. She called finding the coveralls “a real bonus” and claimed that she’d kept the machete and coveralls in her trunk until she could get them to Adney.

“How did you know the key was there?” the prosecutor asked.

Olive tossed her head and put her nose in the air. “I, sir, am a trained research librarian.”

When asked about the evening of the murder, she said she had come back from North Augusta because Adney needed for her to go down to Edie’s. “He was worried Genna might be spending the night at Edie’s.”

“Why?” asked the prosecutor.

“That would have spoiled everything,” she snapped. She also bragged on Adney for giving her explicit instructions about how to construct her own airtight alibi. I don’t like Adney Harrison, but he did take care of his little sister.

Any research she does in the foreseeable future, however, will be done in a prison library.

 

For me, the case ended as it had begun, sharing tea and cookies in Alex James’s office. It was a cold, dreary winter day with a hint of rain in the air, the perfect weather to sit with a friend sipping tea from china cups. She’d poured a third cup, in memory of Edie. Steam rose from it like gentle prayers for her soul.

As I reached for a cookie, Alex demanded, “So what would make Olive and Adney do those things? I mean, they both had good jobs, and he, at least, was handsome and charming. He had a great house, he had Genna—”

I noticed where she’d put Adney’s wife on the list. That was probably higher than Adney had. I had asked Genna after it was all over, “Tell me something. How long did you know Adney before he found out your daddy owned the Hopemore pharmacy?”