A Crying Shame: A Jesse Watson Mystery (15 page)

Claire walked over to the bookcase and pulled one of the
books on the shelf forward. We were instantly assaulted by the flies. The odor
was so strong; it sent us running for the front door. We made it outside just
in time to throw up on the lawn.

Claire slipped on the snow and fell face down in her own
vomit. The sight of her fall and subsequent face-in-the-puke made me heave
again. It was an ugly sight.

Abigail came running out of her house with a portable phone
in her hand. “I knew there was a bad smell coming from that house! I was out in
my yard covering my prized rose bushes. It snowed and that no-good, lazy
gardener didn’t show up, so I had to do the job. The odor was awful. It came
from a vent close to the ground. You found a dead body, didn’t you? I knew the
police should’ve come back out here.”

“Call the police,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
“There’s been a murder committed!”

The sound of sirens in
the background incited a quick response from me. I grabbed Claire by the sleeve
of her jacket and started to rub clean snow in her face as I turned to Abigail
and said, “Help us, will you, please?”

“Sure,” she responded. “What can I do?”

“Run into your house and get a clean, wet washcloth for
Claire. Bring a dry hand towel, too.”

She turned and ran, following my request. She was back
immediately. “I saw you holding a gun when you came out,” Abigail said. “What
did you do with it?”

“I dropped it over there in the snow.” I pointed to a spot
right outside the door.

“We need to do something with it. Our police department
frowns on people carrying guns. We might have a problem here. What really
happened to your arm?”

I looked down at my cast and said, “I was in a car accident.”

Claire cleaned herself up while Abigail and I collected the
duffel bags and put them in Claire’s car. I held onto our handbags and stuffed
my 9MM into mine. Abigail was extremely impressed with my gun.

“We must have a conversation about your little toy one day.”
She had a gleam in her eye that conveyed a fondness for what she probably
considered the forbidden things in life. I would’ve bet that she’d never held a
gun in her life, if I was a betting person.

“You’re not the first person to call my gun a toy. I guess I
just don’t think of it like that. If you could see the destruction this
toy
can do, you wouldn’t ever call it that again.”

“I’d love to see it in action!” she squealed. “You’ll just
have to show me some day.”

Sometimes I believe people have too much money. It makes them
behave in the most outrageous manner. They become self-involved, they’re bored,
and they find pleasure in the oddest things. Abigail was all of that; but I
still liked her. Go figure.

By the time the police arrived, we had stored our belongings
in Claire’s SUV and were standing outside in the freezing cold, waiting for
them. Claire had the letter from Carl in her pocket. Abigail stood beside us
dressed in her full-length mink coat (the one I figured she probably wore while
she covered her rose bushes) and was holding her phone in her hand. This woman
really has class, I thought to myself. Who else would be at a crime scene,
dressed to the hilt, and obviously excited about the prospect of being involved
in such a caper?

The first one to arrive on the scene was Detective Frank
Trainum. I cringed at the sight of him as he walked up to me and Claire.
“Strange seeing you two here,” he said. He looked directly at me. “I would’ve
figured you’d be too busy trying to conceal evidence.”

“I would’ve figured you’d be too busy chasing down the wrong
person and be walking around with pie stuck all over your face for your
effort,” I replied. “It’s too bad that two measly, know-nothing women had to do
your job for you. I bet you weren’t aware that there’s a hidden room in Carl
Benson’s house. Yep, big old nice wine cellar, right under the library.”

Abigail couldn’t control herself. She burst out into
laughter, turned to the detective and said, “I told you one day you’d meet your
match, and now I think you have. She burned you on this one, Frank.” She looked
at me and said, “In my day we called them a Speak-Easy.” She turned back to
Frank and said, “I’m taking these two ladies inside so they can warm up. We’ll
be having tea, so when you’re ready to interrogate them, just come on over. I’d
appreciate it if you’d give these ladies a little time to recover from what
they just encountered. Both of them are still a little shaky. We’ll be waiting
to hear from you.”

Detective Trainum turned to me and said, “I see that you
crossed crime scene tape. I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest…”

“Just a minute,” Abigail said. “That tape’s been busted for
two days. I saw it myself and was going to report it, but I figured you already
knew. You’re such a good cop.”

The detective’s face turned red and he was obviously not
happy with the two of us having an eyewitness to the fact that we didn’t cross
posted tape. He had lost an opportunity to toss me in jail—something I’m sure
he would’ve enjoyed.

“Do you know who the victim is?” He pointed to Carl’s house.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “As soon as Claire pulled that
book and the bookcase opened, the stench overcame us. We had to run outside.
Watch out for the flies; they’re everywhere.”

Claire pressed a button on her key chain pad to lock her car
doors. “Just in case someone gets any ideas about searching my car without a
warrant, they’ll have to come to me first. I have one heck of a security system
on that thing.” She gave Detective Trainum a hard look as we turned to walk
away.

“It’s probably just like the one I have on my Caddy,” Abigail
said as she led us, arm-in-arm, up to her house. “Pete, that husband of mine,
makes sure I have every security device installed on everything, but he still
won’t let me have a gun. I figured he was afraid I’d shoot him if he made me
mad. Who knows? I just might.” She winked at me.

Abigail gave us the grand tour of her house. I found it to be
fabulous. Claire told me she had seen it many times and was still fascinated by
it.

“Abigail’s antique furniture is some of the best I’ve ever
come across,” Claire said. “Her canopy bed is made of a deep, rich mahogany
with carvings of such detail; I’m in awe of the craftsmanship. Every piece of
wood on every piece of furniture in her house was hand-carved.”

“I’ve traveled to many places to acquire some of my pieces,”
Abigail added. “I wouldn’t part with any of them, unless I die. I can’t do
anything about it then.”

She ended her tour in the parlor where we were to have our
tea.

“Please have a seat and I’ll see if I can’t find my sister.”
She exited the room, mumbling to herself about having to do everything. “You
just can’t get good help anymore.”

Claire and I sat down on the settee. I rubbed my hand on the
fabric and said, “Abigail has a great house. This fabric feels luxurious.”

“She has excellent taste,” Claire said. She leaned over and
whispered, “I knew she was rich, but I didn’t know how rich until I read that
her husband’s net worth is approximately sixty million, and his money continues
to grow. I read about them in an article in Money Review Magazine. They go on a
cruise three times a year.”

“Do you think she’d take me with her if I asked?” I said,
jokingly.

“I most certainly would, my dear,” Abigail said as she walked
into the room carrying a tray.

“Here, let me help,” I said, taking the tray from her hands.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, like scrub your walls, do your
laundry, or massage your feet?”

Abigail smiled and said, “Take me shooting and I’ll buy you
anything you want.”

“I was just kidding, Abigail,” I said. “I don’t want your
money; all I want is your friendship.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time,”
Abigail said. “You may call me Abby.”

“Hey, Abby, how much money do you have?”

“Oh, Lord,” Claire said, embarrassed by my attempt at being
cute. “Don’t pay any attention to her, Abigail. She was dropped at birth.”

“Abby, I was just kidding,” I said. “Claire already told me
that you were rich.”

Claire’s face got as red as a Christmas tree light.

“Take it easy, Claire,” Abigail said to her. “Your sister’s
just joking. I can read people, and I can tell you she’s a good person. She
doesn’t use people, she’s honest, and she has a good heart. She also has
character.”

“You could tell all that about me from one short meeting?” I
asked.

“I could tell that about you in the first five minutes,” she
responded. “You have an aura about you. I bet you have the sight.”

“I hope I have sight.”

“Abigail believes in
ESP
and psychics, etc., etc.,” Claire said as she looked at me and rolled her eyes.

“The only thing I have
ESP
about is that there’s a dead body in Carl’s basement, and I don’t believe it’s
him,” I said.

“You don’t think it’s Carl?” Claire looked at me and asked.
“Who do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s just a feeling I have, but I
don’t think Carl’s dead. I do believe he had some kind of plan, but it went
south on him. Whoever it is in his basement; it’s not him.”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t be upset,” Claire said.
“I know Carl’s dead!”

“You’re not a child, Claire. If I thought Carl was dead; I’d
say so. He hasn’t finished screwing with your life. Hey, I could be wrong. He
could be deader than a doornail, as the saying goes.”

“We don’t know anything for sure, yet,” Abigail said as she
poured the tea. “By the time dinner is ready, they should be bringing the body
out. The police work fast around here. Then we’ll know something.”

A few minutes passed and then Abigail said, “Let’s go into my
study. Actually my husband and I share it. We can watch for ourselves. We have
a dynamite surveillance system.”

Claire and I looked at each other.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, ladies,” Abigail said. “How do
you think I know so much about everybody in my neighborhood? I also have
everything on video tape.”

“Ah, you’re into voyeurism,” I said.

“I’m not into the sex part; I just like to watch people.”

“Abigail, you’re a nasty old broad,” I said.

“I told you to call me Abby. All my friends do.”

“Okay,
Abby
.”

Claire gave me a dirty look and fussed at me under her
breath. “She’s never told me to call her Abby.”

“Lighten up, dear,” Abby said. “Where’s your sense of humor?”
Abby took me by the arm and led me to the study. “Has your sister always been
such a prude?”

“Always,” I said. “I love her anyway.”

We both laughed as Claire followed us with her head hung
down. I turned and put my arm around Claire’s shoulder and said, “Come on,
girl, can’t you tell the difference between fun banter and the real thing when
you hear it?”

“I guess I’m just a little concerned about what’s going on
next door.”

I turned to Abby and said, “I’m amazed that the detective
just let us walk away. He didn’t ask us hardly anything. I’m surprised that he
didn’t put us in handcuffs and lock us in a police car.”

Abby winked at me and said, “He’ll be over soon. You’re with
me; he knows you’re not going anywhere. Plus, he probably doesn’t want you over
there contaminating his crime scene more than you have already.”

“Maybe we should go look out the window and see…”

“You’ll be able to see what’s going on for yourself in just a
minute. Follow me.”

Abby’s study was a large room with two separate desks, wall
to wall books, six television monitors (each with a VHS and
DVD
system), and a table with four full computer systems
sitting on it. She also had other gadgets that I didn’t recognize. The room was
an electronics geek’s dream.

“What do you do with all this stuff?” Claire asked.

“She spies on her neighbors. Don’t you remember her telling
us that earlier?” I said. I watched Abby as she walked around the room, turning
on all her equipment. “I bet you have footage from last weekend.”

“I have footage from months ago,” she said and chuckled.
“Jesse, my husband is rich and has enemies. We are constantly being monitored,
and in case someone should try to hurt one of us, we’ll have it on tape.”

“What about when you’re in your car?”

“We’re covered,” she responded. “Look at this.”

She pulled up a scene and we saw her car, inside and out.

“That’s pretty amazing. I should introduce you to my husband,
Billy.”

“Is he anything like Carl?”

“No way! You’d love Billy. He’s a Cherokee Indian, and he’s
the most wonderful man you’ll ever meet.”

Abby looked at Claire and said, “Newlyweds, huh?”

“You got it.”

They both seemed to get some pleasure from knowing more about
being married than I did, but that was okay by me. I had plenty of time to find
out. “You can both roll your eyes, but what I say is true. Billy is my soul
mate.”

“I’m glad to hear that, dear child. Come see me in about five
years.”

“I mean it! Billy and I were made for each other and…”

“Here they come with the body,” Abby said as she pointed to
the screen. Darn, just what I expected—the body’s in one of those black body
bags and we can’t see a thing. We’ve been waiting for almost two hours, and
then when they come out, we can’t see a thing!”

“Look at all those police cars,” Claire said, pointing to a
different screen. “I count...”

“Your husband was… is a community leader and a big man in the
business industry. He has friends in all the right places. Didn’t you know
that, my dear?”