Chapter 29
Atlanta was a long way to go for lunch, especially on a Tuesday morning, but Mrs. Walker had been adamant over the phone. She had to see Jennifer and Sam right away, in person. She refused to explain, citing all the latest surveillance equipment that, she assured Jennifer, could allow almost anyone to drop in on their conversation. Mrs. Walker sounded suspiciously like a CIA operative.
Wagner's Ride of the Valkyrie was playing loudly as Mrs. Walker opened the door and ushered Sam and Jennifer into the dining room. Two well-dressed, white-haired, grandmother types sat waiting for them.
"Won't you have a seat?" Mrs. Walker suggested, gesturing to two side chairs. A lunch of finger sandwiches and various salads was spread on the table.
Tiger was nowhere to be found, but between cymbal clashes Jennifer thought she could detect faint yips coming from the direction of the bedroom. The sounds were either yips or the vibrations of her eardrums.
"I don't suppose you could turn down the music just a bit?" Jennifer asked.
"I want you to hear this piece in all its glory," Mrs. Walker shouted enthusiastically over the din. The orchestra reached a crescendo only Wagner could score. Mrs. Walker leaned down between the pair and whispered, "They can't hear us with the music, you see."
They? Jennifer took a deep breath and asked, "Who might they be?"
"Police. The murderer. Who knows? Your life is at stake, dear, and we'll take no chances."
Sam was unsuccessfully suppressing a grin.
Jennifer let out the breath she'd been holding. At least Mrs. Walker's paranoid fantasies weren't specific. She'd half expected the woman to tell her about the little gray men, the ones that came for her in the night.
"I want you two to meet the girls, Mae Belle and Jessie."
Mae Belle was a little woman with a toothy grin and shiny black eyes. Jessie was larger, well rounded, with bright blue eyes.
"Don't worry. They can be trusted," Mrs. Walker assured them. They probably worked for the same clandestine agency that had recruited Mrs. Walker.
Jessie lingered a little longer than was necessary over Sam's offered hand, her head cocked coquettishly. At least Sam had the grace to blush. In her youth, Jessie must have been a true Southern belle.
Mrs. Walker started the sandwiches around the table. Jennifer took one and passed the plate on. "Hand that back to Jennifer," Mrs. Walker ordered Sam. "She needs to eat more than that, especially now."
"I can't eat," Jennifer declared in a stage whisper. "I want to know what you found out."
Mrs. Walker shook her head stubbornly. "I refuse to begin until you have a decent meal in your stomach."
Jennifer glared defiantly but took two more sandwiches, stuffing a whole one into her mouth. Her father used to make her wait to open her packages until after breakfast on Christmas morning. She hadn't liked that, either.
Fortunately, the wait was mercifully short. Everyone gulped their food.
"Okay," Mrs. Walker opened, leaning in, the orchestra beginning another movement. "We've run down most of the visitors to the building Friday night."
"We eliminated children, sisters, brothers, nephews, cousins, etcetera," Jessie added, "who come and go, visiting their relatives on a regular basis."
Mae Belle nodded. "It's highly unlikely one of them took time from a routine visit to commit a murder."
"Okay, so what do you have left?" Sam asked.
Mrs. Walker clucked her tongue at him. "We're getting to that."
"We also took out regular visitors, both male and female, to residents who had no association with Ms. Richmond," Mae Belle went on.
"That left the repairmen and the delivery personnel," Mrs. Walker said.
"I called all the repair services and each one checked out," Mae Belle assured them.
"And I've been working on the delivery companies," Jessie said. "Ernie didn't get the company names of everyone who came into the building that night, so it's taking a bit longer. I've gotten through all the messenger services and about half the florists in the area."
"Ernie should know better than that," Mrs. Walker complained. "He's supposed to take the address of every delivery person who walks through that door."
"Of course, he is, but I'm afraid he's become a little lax these days," Mae Belle observed.
"We also had one real estate agent and her client looking at one of the units," Jessie said. "The unit is for sale, but I have yet to get the name of the client. We should have more for you in a day or two."
Jennifer hardly knew what to say. Mrs. Walker and her friends were as good as any P.I. agency she could have devised for a novel. "Thank you," she managed. Her words seemed hardly adequate to express her gratitude. "I can't believe you've done all this for me."
"Oh, pish!" Mrs. Walker declared. "Running down a murderer beats a round of bridge any day!" Mae Belle and Jessie nodded.
Mrs. Walker rose to her feet. "I'll get us all some coffee. But remember, dear, all vital communications must be made in person. No exceptions. When I phone you next, it will be to invite you for bridge if we need some additional information, Trivial Pursuit if the police have returned to question me, bingo if we've hit on something important, and Dungeons and Dragons if things have taken a particularly dark turn."
Jennifer had never had any desire to play Dungeons and Dragons, and she certainly hoped she wouldn't be required to now.
"Have you got all that?" Mrs. Walker asked.
"We've got it," Sam assured her.
"Good."
"Mrs. Walker, the last time I saw you, you mentioned that Kyle Browning was seeing Penney Richmond."
"But, of course. I nearly forgot. I put Jessie on it right away, not more than an hour after you left."
Jessie's mouth curved into an impish grin.
"You see, Mr. Staunton has had quite a crush on Jessie for some time, nearly a year, since he first moved into the building."
"But she's never given him a tumble. He's way too old for her," Mae Belle added.
Jennifer wondered where this story was heading and if she were old enough to hear it. While she was sure Jessie's love life held a certain morbid fascination, she was having trouble relating it to Penney Richmond's murder.
"So I called her up and told her to go for it, and I'm afraid she did just that, sacrificed herself for justice."
Uh oh. Jennifer definitely did not want to go where this conversation was heading.
"The point being…"
"The point is that Mr. Staunton lives only three doors down from Ms. Richmond's apartment. He can confirm that Kyle Browning was a regular visitor to her apartment for a number of months, usually late on a Friday night."
"But get this," Jessie dove in. "He doesn't think they were lovers—no hand holding, no flowers, no stolen kisses in the hall, no lingering goodbyes at the door."
"Well, then. If Penney Richmond and Kyle Browning weren't lovers, just what were they doing all those Friday nights?" Jennifer asked.
"Indeed. Just what were they doing?" Mrs. Walker mused.