A Body in the Bargain: A Kate & Kylie Mystery Page 4

  I started thinking something through. The doughnuts were helping.

  “You know,” I said to Kylie after licking the glaze off my fingers. “Maybe there is a connection. Doris Dabney wanted to get rid of all that stuff. Her son knew it was all going to be hauled off. He was there this morning, and they were arguing. That’s what his mother said. He was supposed to be getting things organized, or something. I never saw him at all—not even after the police and the ambulance got there, even though there was a siren and everything. Who doesn’t come out of their house to see what something like that is about? They just left.”

  “Oh, dear,” Darlene said, reaching for the last doughnut. “Poor Doris and Dave. And here they just finally got into that beautiful new house at the lake. I do hope their boy didn’t do it.”

  We all sat around the table silently for a while, and then Kylie got up and said, “I refuse to think about this any longer. We still need to find a sofa. I’m going to check the on-line yard sale.”

  I sat and talked to Darlene, who is a very good listener. She thought I should just buy some living room furniture I liked.

  “Get yourself something nice,” she said. “Ferguson’s will let you pay on time.”

  It was almost noon before Chief O’Reilly and Sgt. Brenda Breaker showed up. Darlene had a pot of chili on the stove. It smelled wonderful, and I’m sure that both of them wanted some, but they said no.

  By that time, Kylie was all calmed down and behaving as if she found bodies in sofa beds all the time, so they interviewed her first, going off into the living room.

  That left me in the kitchen with Darlene. She and I got some chili, and I had just finished mine when Brenda Breaker came back and asked me to come and join them. She sounded very official considering she was in somebody else’s house.

  Kylie was still there. Chief O’Reilly asked me to have a seat and told me that he was recording everything that was said, and they’d be typing it up for me sign later.

  I said, “That’s fine.”

  He turned on this tiny recorder and said, “We are now talking with Kate Marley of 123 Charter Lane, River Valley. Miss Marley was with Kylie Carson when the body was discovered. Miss Marley, you were the one who made the call to 911. Correct?”

  “Correct,” I said.

  “Right,” he said. “Now, Miss Marley, we understand that you and Mrs. Carson were at the Dabneys’ house to look at the sofa bed, which you were interested in purchasing.”

  “Incorrect,” I said. “Mrs. Carson was trying to talk me into purchasing it, but I was not interested.”

  He glanced at Kylie, and she nodded, a little reluctantly.

  “I was trying to talk her into it,” she said, “She didn’t like that shade of moss green, but I had told her we could get slipcovers.”

  “Olive green,” I said.

  Belinda Breaker smirked and rolled her eyes at Chief O’Reilly. She didn’t think I saw her, but I did.

  He was expressionless. I guessed that was his “Just the facts, M’am” face. He was still very attractive.

  “What we want to know,” he said, looking at me with his blue eyes, “Is who you saw and what you heard on first arriving at the Dabneys’ house.”

  “When we first arrived, “ I said, “We were the only ones there—in the yard, I mean. We heard Mrs. Dabney fussing…”

  “What do you mean by fussing?” he asked.

  “Speaking in a high, shrill voice as if she were angry,” I said, precisely.

  “Screaming,” Kylie said.

  “You could say she was screaming,” I said.

  “Who was she screaming at?” Brenda asked.

  Kylie had flung herself back on the sofa and had her arms folded over her chest. I realized that she had already told them about this, and they were seeing if I remembered it the same way.

  “I couldn’t tell,” I said. “I believe I heard a male voice, but the male wasn’t raising his voice. We couldn’t see them. Anyway, we went to the garage to see the sofa, and then Mrs. Dabney came out by herself, and apologized in case we had heard them, and said something about her son. I’m not sure what her exact words were, but it was something about how he was supposed to do something and hadn’t. She picked up some empty beer cans and an empty pizza box.”

  Kylie leaned forward, about to say something, and Brenda Breaker shushed her. I mean she actually shushed Kylie King Carson in her own living room.

  Kylie gave her a mean look. Kylie’s mean look is downright wicked. Brenda Breaker put her hand on her holster. I swear she did.

  “Did you at any point actually see this son of hers?” the chief asked me. “I mean the person she was talking about.”

  “No, I never saw him,” I said.

  He nodded and asked, “Who opened the sofa and what did Mrs. Dabney do after the sofa was opened? Take your time, please.”

  I thought for a moment.

  “Mrs. Dabney was there when Kylie opened the sofa. She had been picking up beer cans. She must have seen the body, because I remember that she made a funny noise, like “Eeek!” She ran toward her house. I don’t remember seeing her after that because Kylie started to faint, and I was catching her and calling 911 and then I called Buddy.”

  “Did Mrs. Dabney go back into the house?” Daniel O’Reilly asked.

  “I assume…” I began, and then I said. “I wasn’t paying any attention to what she did. I know she didn’t stay in the garage. I don’t know where else she would have gone but her house.”

  “But you are certain that somebody was in the house with her when you arrived and that she was complaining at this person?” Daniel O’Reilly asked. “And that she mentioned her son when she apologized?”

  “I am certain of that,” I said.

  “Certain enough to testify under oath?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you for your time,” he said, getting up. “We’d appreciate your not discussing these details with anyone else for a day or two until we sort things out.”

  “You aren’t going to arrest David Dabney just because we heard his Mama fussing at him, are you?” Kylie asked.

  “We have to find him first,” Brenda Breaker said. “When we do, he’ll have some questions to answer.”

  The chief gave her a quick frown.

  My cell phone rang, and I answered it. The Chief and Sgt. Breaker were both still there. Sgt. Breaker stopped to listen.

  Just plain nosey, I thought.

  It was Aunt Verily.

  “I just talked to Josh Miller at The Register,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind my minding your business, but I told him what a good writer you are and that you don’t want to work full time. He said to please call him, that part time would be fine. He sounded kind of desperate.”

  I thanked her and said I would call him. I didn’t mention what kind of morning I’d had, but it turned out I didn’t need to.

  Brenda Breaker apparently decided my call wasn’t interesting. She left.

  Aunt Verily continued.

  “Did you hear that Meredith Merkle was found dead in the Dabneys’ garage, and they’re looking for young David Dabney?,” she asked “That’s what Maxie Lewis said. You know she lives in Camelot Court, and that’s right over there next to the Dabneys. Once the sirens started, she and the other ladies had their lawn chairs out on the hill watching everything and calling everybody in town on their cellphones.”

  I laughed, and said, “That’s quite an image.”

  She laughed, too.

  “Bunch of buzzards with their glasses of sweet tea,” she said. “She said that young policewoman came up the hill and asked them if they had seen David, which they hadn’t. Then she asked if they knew where poor Meredith lived, and who ought to be notified. You know Meredith didn’t have any close family except that brother of he
rs, who isn’t exactly close, but I suppose he had to be notified properly.”

  “Miss Merkle had a brother?” I asked.

  Darlene and Kylie both nodded in answer.

  “Flip Tarver,” Aunt Verily said. “The one who owns the flower and gift shop downtown. Didn’t you know that? He’s her younger half-brother. He’s the one who got her to move here when that English teaching position came open, and It seems to me they were fairly close for a while—well, as close as Meredith might be to anybody——but they had some kind of falling out two or three years ago.”

  “Anyway,” she said, getting back to the main discussion,“Maxie said that Doris and Dave were spending most nights at the lake at their new house, but trying to get the old one ready for the closing. Their son was staying at the old house, and he had a noisy party there last night until about eleven. You know, loud music from car radios. She said somebody must have called the police about it, because the music stopped all at once, and there wasn’t another peep of noise after that.”

  I never ceased to be astonished at how a little old lady could sit behind the counter of a small town library and know so much about what’s going on, but then again, I was learning fast myself.

  After I said goodbye to Aunt Verily, I repeated everything she said to Kylie and Darlene, and then I was ready to go home.

  “Oh, before you leave, come and look at the sofas I found on the on-line yard sale,” Kylie said. “There’s one that’s kind of French Provincial..”

  “Kylie, I’m going to buy a sofa new,” I said. “But I definitely still need a coffee table and a living room lamp if you’re looking.”

  On the way home I picked up a copy of The Register.

  Back home, I called the office number. Josh Miller, who was listed as Publisher, Editor and General Manager, was out, but the woman who answered the phone asked, “Is this Katie Marley? This is Anna James.”

  We chatted for a minute before she said, “Josh said if you called, to ask you if you could come by tomorrow about four. We’re on deadline now, and he’ll have to take the pages to the printer tomorrow, but he’ll be back by then, and he really wants to talk to you.”

  After spending a half hour studying our weekly paper, I could see that Josh Miller needed help. For one thing, they had Maxie Lewis’ “River Valley Ramblings” on the front page, which must have meant they were desperate, even though her latest nature poem was continued on page two.

  Also, there was a photograph of a ribbon cutting in which the heads of several people were cut off.

  I found some of my magazine articles and put together a portfolio, Then I updated my resume and printed out a new copy.

  Finally, I flopped down on my bed, which was the only place I had to flop, and I escaped into Jane Austen’s world, where nobody finds corpses in sofa beds. I had reached the point where Emma is painting Harriet Smith and thinks Mr. Elton is falling in love with Harriet, when Kylie called.

  “Buddy says that they’ve got David Dabney,” she said. “He doesn’t know whether he was arrested or not, but he heard that Dave brought him in, and they had Shelton Squires with them.”

  “Shelton Senior or Shelton Junior?” I asked. Shelton Junior had been the valedictorian of our high school graduating class, and I knew he had gone to law school.

  “Junior,” Kylie said. “Senior is retired and living at St. Simon’s Island. Oh, and I forgot to tell you that Shelton Junior asked about you at church yesterday, and he’s still single.”

  “I’m not surprised that he’s still single,” I said. “Do you remember how no matter what anybody said, he had something sarcastic to say?”

  “Well, I think he’s outgrown that. He was very nice when he asked about you, and he’s supposed to be a very good lawyer,” Kylie said, “ He charges a bunch more than Laurinda Dove, so it looks like the Dabneys are standing by David.”

  It wasn’t until I was in bed that night that the whole impact of the day sunk in. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw Miss Merkle’s hand and then her stiff little body in that horrible mustard yellow pantsuit.

  I got up and ate some ice cream while I did an internet search for drawer pulls just to get my mind on something besides Miss Merkle.

  Kylie was right about the door pulls. I finally chose some really cute ceramic ones and ordered them. There’s no retail therapy like shopping in the middle of the night.

  I tried going to sleep, but as soon as I closed my eyes again, I saw Miss Merkle in her mustard yellow pants suit. It struck me that Kylie was lucky she fainted and got it over with. She was probably sleeping like a baby.

  Me? I had been Miss Calm-Cool-and-Collected, and now I was freaking out.

  I had some more ice cream, and read more of Emma—up to the point I always dread, where Emma is rude to Miss Bates and Mr. Knightley says, “Badly done, Emma!” I had to read further to see Emma trying to make things right. I think I must have fallen asleep sometime after two.

  Kylie called at 7:30 to make sure I remembered she was coming over at 8:30 with her sander and the paint and brushes. I staggered out of bed.

  Chapter 6

  One thing I definitely have is “painting clothes.”

  That’s because I paint, and I gave up on wearing smocks a long time ago. I’ve got a box of things already ruined with acrylics and watercolors, including a couple of oversized t-shirts that belonged to a guy I almost married, but fortunately didn’t. I put one on over my cut-off jeans.

  Kylie arrived with her sander and tool box and sent me out to her truck for a box full of paint, stain, brushes and paint thinner. She was wearing a dress and had brought a monogrammed butcher’s apron to protect it. She’s the kind of person who doesn’t get paint anywhere but where it’s supposed to be.

  “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes,” she said. “Didn’t you sleep last night?”

  “Not much,” I confessed. “I guess I had a delayed reaction.”

  “You really were sort of weird yesterday,” she said. “Mom and I were wondering when it would hit you.”

  “I was calm,” I said. “Not weird!”

  I’ve got to be out of here by noon,” she said, kicking off her high-heeled sandals. “I forgot I’ve got a committee meeting for the flood festival.”

  “When is it?” I asked, thinking that was exactly the kind of thing I was best at writing about. I love promoting events.

  The River Valley Flood Festival had gotten started twenty years earlier when the normally sluggish Ucheechee River rose to a record high and flooded half the town. That’s one risk of building a town in a river valley, of course, and it wasn’t the first flood, but it was the worst.

  The first festival had been a fund-raiser to help the people whose houses had been damaged. I was a kid then, and it was great fun. Also, it was such a fund-raising success that it had continued year after year while I was growing up. I just hadn’t realized that it was still going on.

  “It’s the first Saturday in July,” Kylie said. “But we’ve learned to start early. It’s a big thing, and it keeps getting bigger. This year the proceeds are going to fix up Riverside Park. You can show some of your art, you know. You’d probably get the blue ribbon.”

  “We’ll see,” I said. “But that reminds me. Before we get paint on our hands, how about helping me hang a couple of paintings?”

  We got two framed watercolors hung—one I had done years back of dogwood trees in bloom in front of the old River Valley Depot and the other of a scene from Tybee Island. Kylie hadn’t seen that one before, and she liked it, but then, she’s my best friend, and she likes everything I paint.

  We went to work. Kylie started sanding the top of the kitchen table, and I spread out the drop cloth and started painting the bookcase and the little red and gold table.

  By a little before noon, we were both feeling good about our work. The kitchen table was transformed.
The toy chest we had dragged away from the Cadbury’s sale was now a classy addition to my spartan bedroom, and the perfect height for my television set, or it would be once the paint dried. We had removed the few remaining drawer pulls from the chest of drawers and lovingly worked on the worn places and scratches with a walnut stain.

  After Kylie left, I ate a tuna fish salad sandwich, yawned and went to collapse on my bed. I set the alarm for three, so I’d be sure to get dressed in time to go and talk to Josh Miller at four.

  I think I got an hour’s sleep before my phone woke me up. I reached for it, fully expecting to hear from Kylie or Aunt Verily.

  It was Sgt. Brenda Breaker from the River Valley Police Department sounding bossy.

  “We need for you to come down to the station right away,” she said.

  “Well, okay!” I said. “But you woke me up, and I need to change clothes first.”

  “We don’t care what you’re wearing,” she said. “Chief O’Reilly needs this paper signed A-SAP.”

  She actually said, “A-SAP.”

  I heard a male voice somewhere in the background, and then the call was disconnected.

  I realized that the only thing I might possibly need to sign was a written version of my recorded statement from the morning before. I could hardly see why that was an emergency requiring that they order me around, but on the other hand, I wanted to cooperate, and I could fit in it before my visit with Josh Miller.

  As I started a pot of coffee to help get the blur out of my brain, I noticed a glob of white paint on my right arm, and another on my left foot.

  Paint thinner, I thought, Quick Shower. Try not to get hair wet. Coffee. Blue dress. No. Reporters don’t dress up that much. Best jeans and pink top and sandals. Hurry.

  I found the paint thinner, grabbed a worn out terry cloth cleaning rag and worked on my arm first.

  I had just started on my leg when a blue-and-white River Valley Police Department cruiser pulled up out front.

  My first thought was that it was Sgt. Breaker coming to arrest me for defying her A-SAP order, but it wasn’t.