Chloe Boston 15 - Murder by the Book Read online

  Murder by the Book

  by

  Melanie Jackson

  Version 1.1 – May, 2012

  Published by Brian Jackson at KDP

  Copyright © 2012 by Melanie Jackson

  Discover other titles by Melanie Jackson at www.melaniejackson.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Chapter 1

  “The case is solved,” Officer Lawrence Bryce announced, lifting a small crystal bell from the center of the table and ringing it vigorously.

  All eyes rose from their scratch pads and turned in his direction.

  “As your current standing chief of police, I feel it appropriate that I should now reveal the identity of the murderer,” interrupted the Chief, taking a slug from his beer.

  Officer Bryce of course deferred to his boss through a subtle nod of the head. Faces turned to consider one another. Through raised eyebrows, sneers, winks, and neck flexes, we came to a consensus as to who should be the first to raise his voice in opposition to the leadership of the Chief and Officer Bryce.

  “Alright,” acknowledged Mr. Jackman. “I think we’re all ready to hear from the chief of police and his officer.”

  I bowed my head in a single curt nod along with the others sitting round my dining room table.

  “The guilty party is, of course, Mrs. Benjamin.” Several people guffawed. “But what of motive? What would drive a seemingly normal housewife to murder her husband and why use a shotgun to carry out the evil deed? Those are the questions that must be answered.”

  “You’ve got that straight, buddy,” Cousin Althea interjected. Althea really shouldn’t drink. Alcohol made her even less charming than usual.

  “The motive was revenge, pure and simple,” the Chief explained. “Revenge for Dr. Benjamin having slept with Miss Booth, his dental hygienist, during a recent trip to a dental convention in San Francisco.”

  There was a very brief silence during which the jury deliberated. It didn’t take long to enter a verdict against the Chief.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Chief, but you’re wrong,” Gordon said timidly.

  “How so?”

  “Mrs. Benjamin couldn’t have committed the crime. She was at her aunt’s home on the coast at the time of the murder.”

  Eyebrows arched and chins were stroked.

  “Not according to Mr. Flint,” Officer Bryce challenged smugly.

  “A red herring,” Mrs. Graves explained. “Obviously, you talked with Horace Flint at the docks but failed to read in the Daily Gazette that Flint is currently up on charges for lying to a grand jury. He’s a notorious liar.”

  Bruised egos retreated, but not for long.

  “Alright,” the Chief retorted. “If you’re so smart, why don’t you tell us who murdered Dr. Benjamin?”

  “Alright. I will. It was Henry Collins.”

  “Henry Collins? That’s ridiculous,” Althea challenged. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  “For the inheritance, which was substantial,” answered Mr. Jackman.

  “Not if you actually spent time talking with the lawyer. Henry Collins had been stricken from the doctor’s will months ago, and he knew it,” corrected the Chief.

  “Then who’s left?” Gordon asked.

  Everyone consulted their notepads. All except me.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if the Chief might be right about the wife,” Mr. Jackman replied.

  “Not the wife again,” Bryce complained.

  “Maybe we should consult the oracle.”

  The solution to the case everyone had been working on for the last hour was written on a three-by-five card sitting within a manila envelope in the center of the table. The envelope was stamped Top Secret. But no one looked to the manila envelope for the solution. Instead, they all looked to me. I broke out in a blush as I did every time this happened. I was about to solve the case—again—when the doorbell rang.

  “Pizza’s here,” I announced, jumping to my socked feet and running to the front door.

  I opened the door. It was chilly outside and I was only wearing a light blouse. I became determined to complete this transaction as quickly as possible. The young man holding the warming packs also looked edgy and ready to get in out of the cold. By his dress, which I’m sure was very modern, he was someone I would have avoided on the streets. The only one who seemed happy about this forced encounter was Blue, who stood by my side wagging her tail. Blue loves people and pizza.

  “Hi,” the pizza delivery guy said, eyeing Blue suspiciously.

  “Hi. Don’t worry about the dog. She’s friendly.”

  “I’ll just bet.”

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “Thirty-two dollars for the pizza,” he replied.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing him his money and a substantial tip.

  I accepted the pizzas and set them on the hall table. I was about to say goodbye when the young man spoke again.

  “Say, it sounds like you’re having a party in there,” the delivery guy observed.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You wouldn’t need any beer, would you?”

  “You’re offering to sell me beer?”

  “I brought a couple six packs along just in case you needed them.”

  “We’re fine for beer, thanks.”

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  “You know. Erotic videos. That sort of thing.”

  I considered stepping back into my dining room and seeing if the Chief would arrest the young man on the spot. I had no doubt that if he was willing to sell me beer and smutty videos that he was probably in the possession of various other illegal substances he’d also like to sell me. Instead I let him off with a warning.

  “You know, one of my guests for the evening is Randy Wallace, the chief of police. Would you like to speak with him? Should I bring him to the door so that you can make your offer to him? You know, man to man.”

  “Gee, lady. I was just trying to help.”

  “Yeah? Well, I have half a mind to confiscate your illegal goods and send you packing.”

  “Sorry.”

  “In other words, we don’t need your kind of help around here.”

  I shut the door, not so gently, and carried the pizzas to the kitchen. I opened the lids and laid out the cardboard plates and plastic silverware so that people could serve themselves. I was still somewhat miffed by the encounter with the pizza delivery guy.

  “Dinner is served,” I called into the other room. “You wouldn’t believe the offer I just received from the pizza delivery guy,” I said as soon as the Chief entered the kitchen.

  “What? Did he offer you beer and dirty videos?” the Chief asked.

  “How did you know that?”

  “It was just Eddie Springer,” Gordon explained.

  “And how do you know that?” Althea asked Gordon.

  “It’s common knowledge,” Bryce intervened.

  “It had better not be from personal experience,” Althea said, staring Gordon down.

  “Of course not, dear,” Gordon replied sheepishly.

  “Isn’t what he’s doing illegal?” I asked.

  “Possibly,” the Chief explained. “But he’s also providing a public service by keeping the drunks off the road.”

  “Wow. I almost confiscated his beer and videos.”

>   “I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t. That clearly would have been a violation of the law.”

  I stuck my tongue out at the Chief’s back.

  Everyone congregated back at the dining room table. Food had been gathered and drinks refreshed. The comestibles were laid amongst booklets of character answers, copies of the Daily Gazette, and other components of the murder mystery game we were still playing.

  “Well, how about it, you two,” Mr. Jackman prompted. “Are you going to solve the mystery for us or do we read the answer from the envelope?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Alex replied. “You all know who has the answer.”

  Everyone looked to me. I decided to go slowly, laying out my case piece by piece so that even a child could follow along.

  “Well, as I’ve said many times in the past, there are two ways to approach the case. First, as a real murder mystery. Second, as a mystery designed to trick you as is the case with most party games. Sometimes the former is more complicated than the latter, but both can present their complications.”

  “Yes, yes,” Althea interrupted. “But what’s the answer?”

  I decided to speed up my delivery.

  “The butler did it.”

  “That’s not possible,” the Chief argued. “The butler never actually does it. Let’s check the card.”

  Mr. Jackman opened the flap on the manila envelope and slipped his hand inside. He produced the three-by-five card and started to read.

  “The butler did it,” he ultimately declared, handing the card to the Chief.

  “But how?” asked Gordon. “The butler was locked in the trunk of the doctor’s car.”

  “By subterfuge,” I explained. “The butler locked himself in the trunk of the doctor’s car, after he had committed the crime.”

  “But how did he tie himself up?” Bryce asked.

  “The butler used to be a sailor. Being an expert with knots, he was able to tie himself up once in the trunk.”

  “Where did you read that?” the Chief asked, grabbing a copy of the Daily Gazette in frustration to give it a quick scan.

  “I discerned it from the tattoo on the man’s arm. He was in the merchant marines.”

  “And the motive?”

  “Love.”

  “Love?”

  “Yes. The butler was in love with Mrs. Benjamin.”

  “Is she right?” Bryce asked.

  “What she says is almost verbatim off the card,” answered Mr. Jackman.

  Everyone stopped to consider me. I began to blush again. The Chief was shaking his head and wearing a bemused smile. Frankly, everyone else looked a little scared. Maybe it’s because everyone has secrets. It must be a little scary to find someone, even a friend, who appears to be so easily able to reveal those secrets to the world.

  “That’s a real peculiar talent you have there,” Althea observed uncomfortably.

  “Shall we take on another case?” I asked, trying to divert attention away from my peculiar talent.

  Those around the table looked skeptical. Mr. Jackman had already started to pack up the game. The doorbell rang again before my offer could be resoundingly rejected. Half expecting to find Eddie Springer standing on my doorstep with a gaggle of prostitutes, I opened the door to find my mother and father, Mom holding a gurgling baby Reggie.

  “Hey, little one,” I said, reaching for the child.

  Reggie’s face lit up the moment he was in my arms. For some unexplainable reason Reggie likes me, or at least he finds me funny. Whatever the case, he seems to be happy every time I’m around him. I’d noticed that this annoyed his parents to no end. Carrying the chubby baby, I led the way into the dining room.

  “You’re not too late for pizza if you’re still hungry,” I announced to my parents.

  “I’m famished,” my father said, detouring into the kitchen to grab a paper plate and stock up.

  “Thanks, but I’m fine,” my mother said, always a light eater.

  Greetings came from around the table as people rose to head into the living room where they could be more comfortable. I handed Reggie over to Althea before she could say something nasty. This time it was my turn to be jealous when Reggie’s face burst into a broad smile at the sight of his mother.

  “So, is someone ready to get married this week?” the Chief asked, taking a seat on the sofa.

  “I’m more than ready,” said Mrs. Graves.

  “I suppose I’m ready too,” said Mr. Jackman, seeming a little tentative in his reply.

  “I think the wedding is going to be fun,” I declared.

  “Just as long as they don’t double book the venue for the ceremony like they did at our wedding, hey Lucy?” my father chipped in.

  “They can do that?” Mr. Jackman asked in concern.

  I scowled at my father, who shrugged his shoulders before taking a seat to eat his pizza.

  “Of course that won’t happen,” I assured Mr. Jackman. “This is Tara Lee we’re talking about. She would tear apart anyone who tried to horn in on your ceremony.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mr. Jackman concluded, taking a bite of pizza.

  “What about the bachelor party?” Gordon prompted.

  “The what?” Mr. Jackman replied.

  Gordon looked around to confirm that his wife was engaged in another conversation before he spoke. Even then, he muted his words, leaning forward so he needn’t raise his voice.

  “You know, the drinking and the strippers.”

  “Oh, that,” said Mr. Jackman in relief. “Alex and I have had discussions along those lines and have come to a conclusion.”

  “I can’t wait,” Gordon replied, flashing an idiot smile.

  “Well, you’ll have to.”

  I tuned out when the men started talking about the disputed construction project to renovate the downtown. Such political wrangling bored me stiff. As it turned out, I turned my attention away from the men just in time to catch Althea’s conversation with the women.

  “You know that I caught him trying to walk the other day?” she said.

  “You don’t say,” my mother replied with raised eyebrows. “And at only eight months.”

  “He didn’t really walk, mind you, but I could see in his eyes that he was about to.”

  “That’s amazing,” said Mrs. Graves. “Next thing you know he’ll be talking.”

  “Oh, he’s already talking,” Althea said proudly. “He’s been talking for months. Well, not really talking, but he makes noises. And I know what he’s saying. I bought him these genius tapes that I play for him. He should be reading by the time he’s one.”

  The woman exchanged bemused glances but no one commented.

  As for me, I hope that little Reggie is smart. Considering the biological material God had to work with, he’d turned out incredibly cute. But a genius? I don’t think so. Still, it would be nice if he beat the odds.

  Chapter 2

  “Mrs. Graves, I’m so glad you called,” I said after answering the phone. “Are you getting nervous about your upcoming wedding?”

  “No,” Mrs. Graves responded confidently, “but you should see Lawrence. He’s a nervous wreck.”

  “Oh dear, the poor guy.”

  “He’s afraid that something will go wrong to ruin my special day, the dear.”

  “You just tell him that Tara Lee has everything under control and that it will all come off without a hitch.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “So, what can I do for you?”

  “I was just calling to let you know that my final dress fitting is happening tomorrow at the Princess Shoppe downtown and that I’d love for my bridesmaid to be there.”

  “Of course I’ll be there. What time?”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there with a smile on my face and bells on my toes,” I assured her.

  “Simply being there on time would suit me. The smile would be much appreciated, but as far as the bells go.…”


  “Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet. Has your hair and makeup been scheduled yet?”

  “Our hair and makeup has been scheduled for the morning of the ceremony. Tara Lee called yesterday to provide the details. It all sounds quite swank and luxurious.”

  “There you go,” I said. “I tell you, the woman is a wonder.”

  “I just wish there was something she could do about Lawrence,” Mrs. Graves added with concern.

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Maybe I can have Alex give him a call later this afternoon to bolster his confidence.”

  “Oh, would you, dear?”

  “Consider it a done deal. How’s the cake coming along?”

  “On schedule.”

  “The gazebo at the park?”

  “Reserved.”

  “The tuxes?”

  “Selected and awaiting pickup.”

  “Flowers?”

  “Ordered and in transit.”

  “Then it sounds like there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I haven’t a worry in the world. So, I’ll see you tomorrow at ten.”

  “You’ve got it. Love you. Goodbye.”

  “Love you too, dear. Goodbye.”

  I hung up the phone with a broad smile on my face and my feet bouncing on the floor in excitement. It was all I could do to keep from jumping up and dancing. From the sound of Mrs. Grave’s voice on the phone, the bridesmaid was more anxious about the upcoming wedding than the bride. I looked across the kitchen table to Alex, who was reading a carefully folded paper and eating a bowl of oatmeal with little enthusiasm. The oatmeal was in support of a new diet he’d placed himself on after checking his weight on the bathroom scale this morning.

  “I promised Mrs. Graves that you’d give Lawrence a call this afternoon and calm him down regarding the wedding,” I informed him.

  “Who?” he asked, setting the paper aside.

  “Mr. Jackman.”

  “Oh, that Lawrence.”

  “How many Lawrences do you know?”

  “Just the one.”

  “Wrong. You know two. You also know Officer Lawrence Bryce.”

  “Is that Bryce’s name? Everyone just calls him Bryce. So, what’s wrong with Mr. Jackman?”