Gun in the Gardenias Read online

By the time the next hour had passed, she was beyond exhausted but had cleared out both sides of her basement. But then she was also euphoric because she had done an incredible amount of work. She needed one more hour in order to get all this cleaned up, but she would need coffee before she did that.

  She went upstairs from the basement to the kitchen, put on coffee, dragged a broom and a dustpan along with her cleaning supplies and the vacuum, then did a full sweep-and-vacuum combination of the basement’s shelves, doors, stairs, and floors. After that, she wiped down the windows and the walls, and then mopped the concrete floors.

  As she dragged her supplies upstairs, she realized she’d forgotten to grab a cup of coffee. But that little pot had been sitting there for a full hour. She groaned. “Way to waste good coffee.”

  Still, she’d be happy to have it. Besides, she wouldn’t let it go to waste. No way she would ruin something like that. And now the downstairs was done too. She didn’t want to think about the garage yet. She’d just moved, hauled, and dumped everything she possibly could in there. Plus, she still had the kitchen to do. With any luck though, that could wait until tomorrow.

  She put away her cleaning supplies and poured herself a cup of coffee. Then she checked on the living room window to see if the media was still outside. Of course, they all were. But, as she watched, she saw a young man trying to get through the crowd, carrying a huge box in his arms. He reached her driveway, ignoring everybody behind him.

  Doreen watched as the media took shot after shot as the kid came up her front steps. She opened the door to find already three other boxes were here. He dropped that fourth box on top and grinned at her.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m Nathan. And these are all for you. Good riddance.”

  “What? Wait,” she said as he raced down the steps. “Hang on!”

  He turned and replied, “I want to get out of here before they take any more photos.”

  “But what are all these things?”

  “They’re from my great-uncle. You should be expecting them. He’s in hospice but wanted to get them out before he died and his files became part of his estate.” And, with that, Nathan bolted.

  She moved the boxes, groaning at their heavy weight. She stacked them up just inside the front door. And then it clicked who his great-uncle was—Bridgeman Solomon, the journalist. She wanted to cry out in joy, but, at the same time, she expected a single case file on Penny’s father and her family. Not boxes and boxes. With everything inside, the front door once again secured, but still hiding from the bare front windows, she headed into the back of the house and switched over the laundry.

  She looked at the still-damp curtains and wondered if she could just rehang them. Would the weight help take out the wrinkles? She didn’t think she had an iron. And she didn’t know how to iron anyway. Knowing her, she would burn them. Taking a chance, she walked back into the living room and used the kitchen step stool to rehang the curtains. With that, she could block out the media.

  Satisfied, she pulled them together with a whoosh and walked back into the kitchen. This time, she would sit and have her coffee no matter what. But her phone rang as soon as she sat down. She answered it with a groan. “Hi, Mack.”

  Silence.

  “Okay, okay,” she cried out. “It’s been a really busy day.”

  “I thought you would take it easy today,” he said in a stern voice.

  “I started cleaning, remember?”

  “Is that why you’ve been busy?”

  She heard the relief in his voice and realized he was afraid she had gotten into another case or was racing around terrorizing people again. “Yes, I’ve done the entire upstairs, basement, and most of the main floor. I only have the kitchen left,” she said triumphantly. “Everything else has been emptied, cleaned, dusted, and washed—even the curtains. I dumped the stuff that isn’t mine in the garage to sort later.”

  “Wow.” He was silent for a moment before adding, “I’m shocked. But I don’t know why. You’ve already proven you can make incredible progress in a short time.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said, “but this was something I needed to do for a long time.”

  “Yeah, but go easy on yourself. You have been there six, eight weeks maybe? It’s hardly like you’ve had time to do any major spring-cleaning.”

  “I know,” she said. “And, considering how full this house was when I first moved in, it’s looking mighty empty.”

  “Did you take everything off the walls too?”

  “Yes. Pictures, all the kitschy stuff, everything. It’s all in the garage. Even the upstairs bathroom was full of all kinds of stuff. Both bathrooms actually.”

  “Right. I forgot you had a second bathroom up there too.”

  “Yes, and thankfully the tiny guest bath on the first floor wasn’t stocked. So I went right to wiping down the walls and cleaning the floor. Now the whole house looks cleaner, more usable,” she said. “Oh, and the bed up there in the spare room really needs to go to the dump, but then I’m sure a bunch of stuff in the garage can join it too. I found a lot of broken pieces of furniture downstairs in the basement, plus leaves from a table. If they don’t match anything at this point, I’m hoping maybe a dump run will clean out the rest of it.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” he said in all seriousness. “You’ve done a fine job there.”

  “I also found some holes and damaged walls. Some scraped paint, it looks like. I don’t know really. It’s not drywall down in the basement, but the paneling looks damaged. But then it’s old paneling, so I’m not sure if it’s real wood or not.”

  “It’s real wood,” he said.

  She felt like he was smiling as he spoke.

  “Back then they didn’t know how to fake it like we do today.”

  She laughed. “So, outside of that, did you have a reason for calling?”

  “Yes, one of my men drove past your house today and said it’s still a zoo. He thought he saw a kid trying to get through to you but wasn’t sure what was going on.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” she said. “And the kid got through.”

  When she didn’t volunteer any more information, he asked in a suspiciously neutral voice, “What kid was that?”

  “Oh, just a great-nephew of some guy who’s gone from Rosemoor to a hospice.”

  “Oh. Is that anything I should know about?”

  “Of course not,” she said blithely. “Did you talk to Steve about his gun yet?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “But I definitely don’t want you talking to Steve.”

  “I’d be totally happy to never see that man again.”

  “Well, that’s good. Plus, as long as you’re housecleaning, that’s keeping you out of trouble.”

  “It is, indeed. Not too much can go on while I’m stuck in the house, can it?”

  “Do you want me to shoo away the media?”

  “No, leave them, if they haven’t got anything better to do,” she said, then laughed. “I feel a little sorry for them. It looks like it’ll start raining, and that means they’ll get soaked in a few minutes. I shouldn’t be so mean, but honestly, half the time, I think I should start selling coffee. I’d make a killing.”

  He laughed. “You know what? You probably would.”

  Soon afterward Mack hung up, and Doreen sat here, desperately wanting to open the delivered boxes. But she’d promised herself she would do this spring-cleaning job and finish it. The least she could do was go through the twelve coats first. She took one and examined it. It was a long fashionable forest-green trench coat. It was very Avenger-like. She tried it on and laughed. “Nan,” she said with a chuckle, “this is seriously gorgeous! I don’t know when I’d wear it, but it fits like a charm.”

  It had a belt, some nice buttons, and a high collar. She shoved her hands into the pockets, surprised they were so deep. Reaching the bottom, she pulled out both hands and put everything she’d retrieved on the kitchen table. Not only was there
eighty-five dollars and a bunch of change but also a couple scrap pieces of notepaper, a key, and another one of those weird marble things they had found in the Ming vase. She kept forgetting to ask Nan about them.

  She grabbed a bowl from one of the cupboards and put everything in it. Then she searched the trench coat more thoroughly. She found a bunch of business cards in the top pocket and a folded one-hundred-dollar bill that made her cry in delight, rousing the animals to gather around her. Also, a handkerchief that appeared to be silk. She hadn’t seen such a thing in a long time. It was embroidered in one corner, but it wasn’t Nan’s name. It looked like a gentleman’s handkerchief. She thought about Nan’s wonderful days and her incredibly exciting single life and thought maybe this was from an admirer.

  With that coat thoroughly investigated, including checking the lining and the hem of the coat for anything else, she put it back on a hanger and hung it in the front closet. She didn’t know if she would wear it much, but it was lovely, and it fit perfectly.

  She walked back to the kitchen and grabbed what looked like a heavy winter coat next. It was very lightweight though and almost reached her midcalf. It was a down coat per the label. Did it get that cold here? She pursed her lips as she studied it. It was a smoky gray color and quite stylish. Nan really did have great taste. Doreen put it on and laughed when she realized she could zip it right up. She couldn’t imagine how many times in her life she’d wear it, but, if she needed it even once, maybe it was worth keeping.

  Hesitant, yet curious, she shoved her hands into the pockets and cried out when she came up with handfuls again. When she pulled out the items, she found yet another marble. She didn’t understand where all these were coming from. She also found more little notes, business cards, and one fifty-dollar bill and one ten-dollar bill. She dumped everything into the bowl to sort later.

  Then she took off the coat and went through every pocket, checking the lining and everything else to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. She spied a safety pin just under the armpit section and a hole in the lining. It was not very big, but, as she looked closer, she found a one-hundred-dollar bill tucked inside. She stared at it before pulling it out and carefully pinning the area again. She did it in such a way that it was hardly visible. After that, she put the down coat on a hanger and carried it to the front closet. While she was here, she checked the trench coat too, wondering if she’d missed a pin somewhere. But a second check of it showed no such luck.

  She had ten more coats to go through. The next two also had money and change, although not of any great denomination—fifteen dollars in one, twelve dollars and forty-six cents in the other. It made her laugh. Then, in the next coat, she found a pair of beautiful heart-shaped earrings. She held them up and wondered how they ended up here. No money was in this coat, just several tissues and a couple business cards. She decided these two coats would go to Wendy, while the coat with the earrings would stay with her. It was a snazzy little blazer that was quite contemporary looking. It hung beautifully on her shoulders too. Her husband would probably call her gaunt, but he liked her that way. The more her collarbones, wrist bones, and rib bones showed, the better for him. She hung up the blazer, then grabbed a big garbage bag to put the coats in for Wendy only they were so big, she ended up just stacking them instead.

  With that done, she had seven more coats. One was a raincoat, and nothing else was in it other than a walnut. She didn’t understand why, but then she was past wondering. Meanwhile, another coat had a lovely little stone. As she looked at it, it flashed many colors, like a raw opal. She shrugged and put in it the bowl, along with one hundred and nine dollars and forty-one cents.

  By the time she was done, she had one more jacket she could wear every day, and the bowl was almost full of odds and ends. She was now left with five coats to keep and seven to give away. She placed the coats in front of the big garage door. She would have to put them in her car, but that meant going outside and facing the media world again. She wasn’t up for that yet. She also had a pile of other stuff stacked in the garage anyway. Stuff she had yet to get rid of.

  One day she’d finally be rid of it all. Someday …

  Chapter 6

  Thursday Afternoon …

  Finally, Doreen couldn’t stand it anymore. With another cup of coffee, she headed for the four boxes in the living room delivered earlier today. The only things left in the living room were the two pot chairs and these boxes. She dragged one of the chairs to the stacked pile and opened the top box. Apparently, the files were alphabetized, and this was the first group. The next box had letters P through Z. She shook her head. Sighing, she put the boxes side by side on the floor. Then she went to Penny’s family name. Sure enough, there was a file. She read it and found it very interesting and also sad.

  Penny’s brother had gone through a tremendous amount of abuse from their father, yet their case always seemed to slip through the cracks, and the brother was never removed from the home. Doreen wondered why Penny herself didn’t say anything to anyone, but it was always hard to judge the veracity of a child who was also in the same situation—and likely terrified too. At least their father had eventually gone to trial, and Penny had been brave enough to testify against him.

  That racked Doreen with guilt even more. Penny hadn’t had an easy time in her childhood. She had stood up for her brother, and she had done what she could. But then she had killed her brother in an effort to save him from that life, and her father had done time for the murder she had committed. Without a doubt, he deserved jail time for what he had done to his children, but he hadn’t been the one guilty of the final offense.

  Reading to the end of Penny’s file, Doreen didn’t find much new information. She set it aside though, planning to scan it in for her own permanent records and then possibly give Mack the original or a scanned set of copies. She’d have to think about that. Putting this file back in the proper place, she stared at the four boxes from Solomon. An astronomical amount of files were here. The old man had been a journalist, but it didn’t mean he had followed only criminal cases or that these were unsolved cases. She pulled out her phone. “Good afternoon, Nan,” she said.

  “About time you called me. Did you know this place is buzzing like crazy?”

  “My front yard too,” Doreen said sadly. “The media is walking all over the lawn.”

  “You get them off the grass. We’ve been through that before.”

  “A lot of them are out there. Mack told me how Crystal’s disappearance had caused so much pain for everybody and how the whole community had banded together to search for her when she first went missing. And now that they know Crystal’s alive and well and coming home …”

  “You are a true hero, my dear,” Nan said warmly. “You should hear everybody talk.”

  “I’d just as soon not,” she said. “But thanks. How is Solomon doing?”

  “He’s still alive,” Nan said in a cheerful voice. “I think he’s doing it just to spite his family. Right now they’re arguing about the financial assets he’s leaving behind.”

  Doreen winced at that. “That’s terrible. People should let him die in peace.”

  “Or he should have given it all away before he got to that stage, like I’m doing with you.”

  “Speaking of which,” Doreen said, then proceeded to explain everything she did this morning.

  “Oh my, I bet the house looks wonderful.”

  Doreen looked around the mostly bare living room. “Well, it definitely looks different. I haven’t done the kitchen yet, and I’m still working on the hall closet now.”

  “Oh, that closet,” Nan said. Worry coated her voice. “I have to admit, it’s very deep and pretty stuffed.”

  “Stuffed with what?” Doreen asked with dread.

  “You’ll find out,” Nan said in her usual singsong voice.

  “Oh, by the way, Solomon’s great-nephew finally got the files to me.” There was silence for a moment, as if Nan struggled with the change o
f topic. Doreen added, “The file on Penny’s family.”

  “Oh, my goodness, it’s not like you need them now.”

  “No, but I think it’ll be helpful for Mack. Maybe helpful for Penny’s defense too. She had a terrible childhood. I’ve been reading bits and pieces of it, and she went through a lot of trauma and abuse. I almost feel guilty.”

  “And believe me, the defense will play that up big-time, so you don’t need to,” Nan said. “She tried to kill you. Remember that.”

  “And she did kill her brother, and she shot Hornby,” Doreen said. Then she smiled before continuing, “The thing is, the nephew brought me that file as part of a bunch of files. He brought me four large boxes full of files.”

  Nan gasped, then laughed.

  “It’s hardly funny! I just cleaned out the house, and now I’m sitting here with four large boxes full of paperwork.”

  “Yes, but just think about how many cases are in those boxes!”

  “Sure, but that doesn’t mean they’re unsolved or have anything to do with me. I understand it’s part of Solomon’s legacy, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them.”

  “I might pop by and talk to him this afternoon,” Nan said. “They let me in there a couple days ago. If they do again, I can ask him. It’ll depend on how many watchdogs he has around.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, that would be helpful. See if any of these cases still really bother him or if there’s something I’m supposed to do. If it’s just his old journalistic research, it’s probably not worth keeping. And, of course, I appreciate Penny’s file because that would be helpful for moving the court case forward, but the rest …”

  “Don’t you worry about it. I’m on it.” With that, Nan hung up.

  Just then though Doreen received another phone call. She groaned. “You know that I could rest more if I didn’t have interruptions all the time.”

  “Darren says you got a delivery today,” Mack said, ignoring her jibe.

  “Who’s Darren again?”

  “Richie’s great-grandson,” he said. “The one we met at Rosemoor when Nan and Richie got into trouble, and the police were called. You said a kid got through the crowd to you, but you didn’t say what he was delivering.” His voice was too suspicious for her.