INTERVIEW PROF. ISAACSON

  Then he sat back and also made a mental note. His opinion of Vance Quimby had been clarified somewhat by this last visit. His years of experience and the concept that Wendy had trotted out for him a while back—hiding in plain sight—were telling him that Vance was certainly trying his best to give the appearance of being on the up-and-up about everything all along. But that still did not remove him from possibly being responsible for all the trauma, trickery, and sorrow that had begun that fateful evening out at Overview.

  All that aside, Ross now had two new leads worth investigating. Just before Vance Quimby had announced himself, Bax had agreed that Wendy’s observation regarding Carlos Galbis wearing a tux as his uniform of choice was something they had all overlooked so far. So, his first stop on this day of fresh insights would be to the Rosalie Country Club.

  * * *

  Things weren’t busy for Carlos when Ross arrived at the RCC about a half hour later. He had called ahead to make sure Carlos didn’t have the day off, and had been told by Rosalie’s most celebrated mixologist himself that eleven in the morning was still a bit too early for even the town’s most notorious drinkers, with the sole exception of the Bloody Mary devotees.

  “Eleven is perfectly respectable for them,” Carlos had said with a chuckle. “But none of them have shown up so far.”

  Ross laughed, too. “I know the type well. But just between the two of us, I think there are certain people in Rosalie who are constantly working toward an even earlier hour to begin consuming those adult beverages.”

  “Amen.”

  “Let’s sit down at one of the nearby tables, why don’t we? That way we can be a bit more comfortable, and you can still keep an eye on your bar,” Ross said after he had politely refused the offer of water or a soft drink. As the professional he was, Carlos knew that Ross would refuse anything stronger while on duty.

  When they had settled in, it was Carlos who spoke first. “You said you had something important you wanted to discuss with me, Detective? I don’t know if I can be of any help to you, though. Have I done something wrong?”

  Ross told him he had not and then quickly reviewed what he thought was pertinent about the deaths of Aurelia Spangler and Earl Jay Doxey, particularly her strange vision. Then he added, “I don’t want to alarm you in any way, but the fact is that you do wear a tuxedo to work every day. There just aren’t many people in Rosalie who do. You can understand my concern, I hope.”

  The color rose slightly in Carlos’s olive skin, and he became fidgety in his chair. “You think Miz Spangler’s vision may have had something to do with me?” Suddenly, there was a gasp, followed by definite panic in his eyes and voice. “Oh my, it’s happening tonight.”

  “What’s happening tonight? Are you going psychic on me?”

  “And I’ve already paid for it,” Carlos added, ignoring the question while the wildest of thoughts erupted in Ross’s head.

  “Paid for what?”

  Carlos was shaking his head now, still not answering the questions put before him. “Do you think she might be in danger? Should I cancel it?”

  “Who might be in danger? Cancel what?”

  “I decided to pay Party Palooza for a singing telegram for my wife, Elena. It’s supposed to be delivered to her tonight as a surprise. Just my way of telling her what a great woman and mother she is to our children. But now I’m worried.”

  Ross sat back and slumped, looking like all the air had been let out of his chest. “It seems I really have alarmed you unnecessarily. That wasn’t at all why I came out here. I had no idea you’d just placed a telegram. My wife and I just thought that maybe I should check up on you. I wanted to ask you if anything suspicious or puzzling had happened to you lately.”

  Carlos was clearly lost in thought for a while. “Suspicious, no. Puzzling, yes.”

  “What puzzled you?”

  Carlos’s mood seemed to have lightened somewhat, and he said, “Figuring out why some of the wealthiest members out here leave me the scrawniest tips. Got any ideas on that one?”

  “Afraid not,” Ross said, lightening up himself. “Once again, I’m sorry if I upset you in any way, but I would like you to do me a favor. Get back to me at once if the slightest thing turns up that seems strange to you. I mean not only out here but around your home or going back and forth to work. We have to look into every lead, of course, and you understand that this is all that was. You, yourself, are hardly under suspicion, and don’t dwell too much on the tuxedo angle I brought up. I think both you and your wife will be safe, but if it will relieve your mind, I’ll have my partner, Detective Roland Pike, put on a detail when Milton Bagdad delivers your telegram. Meanwhile, you just stay alert and keep on making those monster juleps and mojitos for everybody.”

  “You got it, Detective, and thanks for the extra protection. I do understand why you had to go into this with me,” he said, taking a deep breath and finishing with a big smile. Now all he had to do was wait for the Bloody Mary crowd to show up.

  * * *

  Wendy and Ross felt emotionally spent after they filed out of Earl Jay Doxey’s services at the cozy North Rosalie Baptist Church, even though they had both remained silent throughout—and even somewhat in awe of the heartfelt spectacle. The intensity of the two dozen, red-robed, choral voices and the energy with which their music floated heavenward were almost tangible at times. Their version of celebratory sorrow had a substance to it that neither of them had experienced before in their own white churches. Wendy thought back on her own mother’s funeral a dozen years ago. It had been very reserved and orderly, but she hadn’t paid much attention to that fact until now—all these many years later. She concluded that there was a wide gulf between the rituals of bluestocking Presbyterians and blue collar black Baptists; yet at the same time, she wondered if “getting it all out of their systems,” as Doxey’s friends and fellow churchgoers had done so thoroughly and without reservation, wasn’t the more satisfying way of saying goodbye to a loved one. At the very least, it had felt joyful to all those in attendance.

  In the equally cramped Fellowship Hall next door a few minutes later, Bax was already hugging the widowed Mary Liz Doxey amidst the crowd across the room, but Wendy and Ross lost no time in catching up with him and introducing themselves.

  “What a powerful service that was, and such a great tribute to your husband, Miz Doxey,” Wendy told her, as her father finally pulled away. “I know you must have taken great comfort in it.”

  “Yes, it really was a great comfort to me. The choir’s singing, in particular,” Mary Liz said, perfectly composed and smiling. “Music, it does soothe the wounded soul.”

  In fact, Wendy had never seen someone so close to the deceased that poised and collected at a visitation; this tall, handsome woman who wore salt-and-pepper dreadlocks down to her shoulders with fashionable aplomb seemed imperturbable. “Earl Jay got to where he loved goin’ to church with me on Sundays after we got married,” Mary Liz continued. “Sometimes, even on Wednesdays. He never used to darken the door of any church before that, though. Of course, there were times I thought he came on Wednesdays for the supper more than anything else, but I didn’t care if it was just all about his stomach. All I wanted to do was bring him into the fold and try to keep him there. He always did things his way for his reasons anyway. Like he told me he wanted a closed coffin and visitation after the services and not before like usual, and so here we all are.”

  “Mary Liz made a big difference in Doxey’s life,” Bax added, pointing to his friend. “You were the best thing that ever happened to him.”

  Mary Liz reached out and took Bax’s hand, smiling graciously. “He said the same thing about you, too. You helped him turn away from his life a’ crime.” Then she gestured toward the table across the way with its generous offerings of food and drink. “Please, help yourselves, won’t you? Earl Jay left specific instructions for all a’ y’all to party in his memory, and I know you don’t wanna let him down. He wanted Simply Soul to cater his funeral with practically everything on their menu that he loved—lots of greens, beans, mac and cheese, fried catfish, and rice and gravy. So don’t be shy—please treat yourselves to your heart’s content. We have more than plenty. Earl Jay was big on not wasting a crumb when it came to food.”

  “We’ll take you up on that,” Ross told her, smiling big.

  Over at the busy buffet table, Wendy started helping her plate while lowering her voice to Ross. “Mary Liz is so healthy with all of this. You’d never know she was the widow of the occasion. I doubt I could be anywhere near that together if I were the hostess at your funeral—which I certainly hope and pray will be very far off into the future, by the way.”

  “I appreciate that, but never try to second-guess the way people grieve,” he said, also in a confidential tone while digging into the mac and cheese with the big silver spoon that had been provided. “Some zig, while others zag to deal with it. But no matter what they do, you’ll never be able to know exactly what they’re feeling. What it looks like on the surface may be very different from what’s going on deep inside where they live and breathe.”

  “Of course, I know you’re right,” Wendy told him. “After all these years, I’m still not over losing my mother the way I did. I remember clearly that I didn’t want to talk about it with any of my girlfriends, or maybe I just didn’t know how to do that. Anyway, I drifted away from them all, went to the psychiatrist that Daddy set up for me, and also listened to any advice that Daddy gave me along the way. Still, I never remember being composed the way Mary Liz is right now, no matter how much time had passed. There was always this enormous void that I was never able to fill. If you’re just a small child, death doesn’t truly register with you, and the elderly seem resigned to waiting for it patiently. But when you’re a teenager or young adult, it seems like a cruel lesson you’re having to learn way too soon.”

  “I wonder if anyone ever completely heals,” Ross said.

  “I don’t think so, but maybe at least enough to keep on going, I suspect. Maybe that’s good enough and the best we can hope for.”

  Ross lifted a large piece of fried catfish onto his plate with tongs and said, “Bax told me that Doxey never shared any of his informant work with Mary Liz. He said that if she never knew anything that he’d learned off the streets, then no one could ever force anything out of her, and she’d be safer that way. At that point, his primary mission in life was to protect her.” Ross paused and looked her way. “I should take a tip from Doxey and not leak as much as I do to you.”

  Putting her plate down briefly, Wendy held her hand up as if she were being sworn in to some office or other. “You know how trustworthy I am; and besides, Daddy’s just as bad as you are about that. It wouldn’t be fair to start depriving me of little bits and pieces of your cases at this late date. What would be the point?”

  “You’ve given us both a couple of scares at times—that’s the point,” he said, sounding amused and resigned at the same time. “But you’re right. You’d get it out of us one way or another.”

  The two of them made their way to a couple of folding chairs against one of the plain white walls, sat down, balanced their plates on their laps, and began sampling their food. After a couple of bites of green beans, Wendy said, “Does that mean you’re not going to interview Mary Liz about her husband’s death?”

  “I doubt she’d have anything to tell us based on what your Daddy said, and I’m sure she’d come forward if she did.”

  That brought an odd expression to Wendy’s face, as if she couldn’t decide whether to smile or look quizzical. “I know I haven’t been at this solving-crimes business nearly as long as you have, but isn’t it the case sometimes that people don’t realize they know something that might be very valuable to the police? That is, until it’s drawn out of them?”

  “Ah, the art of interrogation,” Ross said, smartly piercing the air with his upside-down fork. “And it is an art, as you’ve been finding out since you’ve become an investigative reporter. Still, I’ll leave it up to your father to make that decision about Mary Liz. My guess is that he’ll be all about respecting her private grief and leaving it alone. I think she’d have to come forward voluntarily.”

  Wendy immediately saw the wisdom of dropping the issue and concentrating on eating instead. She was also content to observe the ebb and flow of the significant church crowd. There wasn’t much obvious sadness around the room, despite the preponderance of funereal black; tears seemed to have been told to take a hike, at least for a while. Everyone was indeed eating and drinking and managing small talk with laughter as a serviceable accompaniment. There was a pleasant, cocktail-party hum to it all that seemed perfectly appropriate. She concluded that the unrestrained, heartfelt service—filled with hymns like “Blest Hour, When Mortal Man Retires”—had somehow elevated their common grief and sent it packing with some authority to a better place. They all seemed to be following to the letter Doxey’s instructions to have a high-spirited celebration in his honor.

  That, she also decided, was the only way to go.

  * * *

  The next day happened to be Tuesday, and Merleece showed up early to clean Wendy’s house as usual, but she had a troubled expression on her face from the moment she stepped into the foyer, and she was rarely without a smile, even when Miz Crystal had driven her crazy with some ridiculous task assigned at Old Concord Manor.

  “Is something the matter?” Wendy said, leading the way to the kitchen for their usual coffee and pastry ritual before the cleaning actually began.

  “Might be, Strawberry,” Merleece said. “I don’t know just yet. Might need me another opinion.”

  “Well, then, you’ll tell me about it, and we’ll both decide what’s what. We’re the best two heads together that I know of.”

  Wendy made busy kitchen noises, fixing up their coffee mugs and setting out a plate of mini blueberry muffins that she’d made from scratch just yesterday. “What’s on your mind?” she said, once she was seated.

  Then Merleece blurted it out. “It’s Mary Liz Doxey. She up and told me somethin’ I think you need to know ’bout. And maybe that husband and daddy a’ yours, too.”

  “I didn’t even know you knew her,” Wendy said, perking up. If Merleece hadn’t gotten her full attention before, she had it now. “I didn’t see you at the service yesterday. Were you there?”

  “Yes, I was at the back a’ the church, but I coudd’n stay on after, so I slipped on out. I saw you and that handsome husband and daddy a’ yours up front. Miz Crystal had one a’ her luncheons I had to tend to right after the services. You know how important all that kinda stuff is to her. But I did come in early to visit with Mary Liz in Pastor Carter’s study so I could let her know I was prayin’ for her, and that was when she told me what she told me. Lemme just say that she let her hair down and got all the cryin’ outta her system with me. She say to me it was better to do it in private with my arms around her than make a spectacle of herself in public. She was like that, you know, even when we grew up together on North River Street. She kep’ errything inside. But the deal was my mama knew her mama, and that’s how we become such good friends. Back then, she was Mary Liz Johnston, and then she marry Earl Jay. I near ’bout fainted when I heard he got stabbed on the street. What’s Rosalie comin’ to? I just don’t think they’s anybody who’s safe anywhere now.”

  Wendy was staring down into her mug with a glum expression. “It was a shock to my husband and my father, particularly. Daddy was very close to Doxey, as he called him. Anyway, what was it that Mary Liz told you that you think Ross and Daddy and I need to know about?”

  Merleece straightened up in her chair and silently moved her lips as she organized her thoughts. “Well, first, Mary Liz, she confess that Earl Jay never would let her know what he was up to. It was to keep her safe, he would say to her, and he would always keep his word on that. But that day he got himself stabbed, Mary Liz say she did overhear him talkin’ to someone over the phone ’bout a donkey. He did repeat that word, and his voice, it sound surprised. And then, that very evenin’, he left this world and not by his own choice. So, she wanted to know if I did think she oughta go and tell the law all about it.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “I put it on myself. I say to her not to burden herself with it right now. She had services for Earl Jay first to get through and then all the people in the Fellowship Hall to hold hands with and smile, even if that was the last thing she felt like doin’. I did promise her that I’d be the one to think it over and that I’d tell you ’bout it once I finally decide the right thing to do.”

  “I’m sure you did the right thing,” Wendy said. “I have no idea what the conversation means, but I know that Daddy and Ross will appreciate you coming forward with the information. Maybe they can find out who Doxey was talking to from phone records. Ross and I had been discussing the issue of whether he or Daddy should interrogate Mary Liz or not during this difficult period of grief she’s going through.” Wendy paused and took a sip of her coffee. “Was that all Mary Liz told you at the church?”

  “That’s it. They was nothin’ else. Just the word donkey. A coupla times she heard Earl Jay say it, and he was mighty upset. And then she wouldd’n want him to know she was halfway eavesdroppin’ and passin’ by behind him in the hallway.”

  Wendy’s brain shifted into sleuthing mode once again.

  Donkey.

  What was that about? She would tell her father and Ross and see if they could make some sense of it. Perhaps it would be the key to the murders of Aurelia Spangler and Earl Jay Doxey, and lead to their solution.

  CHAPTER 15

  Wendy and Sarah Ann were seated on a little couch in the common room of Rosalie Women’s Shelter, and Wendy couldn’t help but think that the entire facility needed a huge infusion of funds to spruce it up a bit. The couch, itself, featured cheap upholstery with a few cigarette burns in it, and the rest of the furniture in the room looked like a collection from the proverbial yard sales and flea markets she was so fond of attending. There were also mismatched curtains at the windows that made everything seem as forlorn and hapless as most of the shelter’s residents.