Thank you for all the kind comments. I am enjoying writing once again. Tonight I've had technical difficulties with the formatting on my blog, so I apologize if it has any glitches in the paragraphs and dialogue margins. Not cetain why it is having issues this evening. I must say that right now the posted excerpts are going to be feast or famine.I have some writing done ahead so feast it is for the moment, but when I runout it may be famine unless my writing speed increases. As we reach famine, your comments and suggestions will be much appreciated.
Chapter 2:
Detective Ed Neill drummed his fingers in a rippled staccato on the front edge of his desk.The day started out normal, with a stack of files on his desk of cases he had been working on recently. Nothing too dire, after all, this was Wheatbury, Kansas. Most of his cases involved burglary, larceny, assault and battery, and the occasional fraud or embezzlement. Rarely did any other case cross the desk, rarely as in only once every few months.
He guessed this was his lucky month. He’d just been called out to a crime scene at the
Cottonwood Arbor Senior Living Community. Two of the residents discovered a body
on the walking paths in the arbor area. Neill really didn’t think this case was going to turn out to be much. After all, it was a senior living community. Old people died unexpectedly all the time, it was part and parcel with the demographic. The old lady was probably out walking by herself, and keeled over. No one missed her until the other two elderly ladies stumbled on to her, would be his assumption. He’d know soon enough and maybe, just maybe if the case was a quickie he could stop by the ground’s restaurant for a bite of lunch. His great-aunt lived therefor a short time while she’d been in rehab for a broken hip. The restaurant made a great reuben sandwich.
Neill pulled his cruiser up to the circle in front of the walking path area’s entrance.
There were a few people milling around the area near the coroner’s van. Well, that
was to be expected. Natural or tragic, death always drew an audience.
Neill saw two older women, standing nearer the body than any of the other residents.
He decided that they must have been the ones to find the deceased. He’d done this dozens of times...but it never got any easier.
“My name is Detective Neill, please tell me your names and whether you knew the deceased?”
“My name’s Marcella Lawson and this here is my friend and neighbor, Maude Sampson.We live over in the Redbud building, top floor, the penthouse so to speak.”
Neill nodded, “yes ma’am, I see, did either of you know the woman?”
“Yes, yes we both did. Lordy, as soon as I got over the shock of seeing that finger,
I knew that it was Erma, it was her signature purple polish with the powercat emblem that the squirrel was gnawing on,” said Marcella.
The detective saw the other woman, Maude, seem to gag a little at the illustration.She looked a bit pale for a woman who’d been standing in the sun. He’d have to watch her. The last thing he needed was to have the old lady faint on him.
“Was it a regular routine for Mrs. Walters to walk here?” Asked Detective Neill.
“No, it certainly was not. No sir.mmm, mmm.” said the woman named Marcella , with a hands on the hip stance that brooked no denial of her opinion. “It’s just not like Erma to go out walking by herself, or at all for that matter.”
“I agree,” added the lady named Maude Sampson. “She’s practically attached to her Spitfire Scooter and that little three wheeled thing just isn’t stable enough for these trails. I don’t even know why she was out on the trails. Ever since she broke her hip, she has stayed close to home. Her regular exercise was water aerobics and her idea of nature was sunning herself on the sun deck following water zumba class. ”
Neill looked over at the victim, he remembered the lady Marcella had called her Erma.
The Coroner’s technician had already arrived before him, and partially covered her
with a tarp, but her face sporting a freshly coiffed hair style was in view.
“Cept for Erma’s hair, she looks like she’s been dead a while detective,
like maybe more than 12 hours, that would have put her here in the
middle of the night, which really makes no good sense at all.”
Detective Neill looked quizzically at Marcella,
“Now Mrs. Lawson, why would you say, or even know that?”
“I’ll tell you why Mr. Detective, I was one of the lab techs at the Wheatbury coroner’s
department until I retired five years ago. I worked in those offices for more than thirty
years. So, detective, I have seen more than my fair share of dead people
and I know fresh... and I know stale.”
“Marcella, you okay?”
The sound of Marcella’s frustrated voice, carried across the path like a mom’s
voice scolding an errant child. A head jerked up in attention, and a man rushed
over to Marcella’s side. He looked like he’d just walked off the golf course.
“You doing okay here Marcee?” the man asked, his voice pleasant but his face
sending signals of -don’t make such a fuss, you're causing a scene-.
“Now Marcee, I’m sure the good detective didn’t mean any harm in his asking. He’s just getting the details sorted out.” he said, patting her arm softly while stepping in front of her. “Detective, my name is Harold, Harold Johnson,” he’d said while extending his hand fora greeting. Marcella and Maude called me and my golfing partner, Ben Baumann over to help
with the squirrel while they contacted the police to report Erma.”
“And where is your golf partner now?”
“He’s sitting on the bench, right over there.” answered Harold , pointing to the man sitting
in an area on the far side of the path.
Sure enough, a man in garish blue plaid pants was sitting with his head cradled in his hands on a bench. The man looked paler than his white hair, but didn’t look up, although Neill thought for certain that he had heard their conversation. Neill noticed that Ben Bauman's eyes narrowed just a bit and his lips pressed together in a firm line as he glanced at his golf partner, and then Mrs. Lawson. Stepping to the side, just a bit, he casually draped his arm across Mrs. Lawson's shoulder. his golf partner looked up at the detective, then back down at Erma.
“Detective, how soon you think we can get poor Erma moved on out of here? asked Mr. Bauman, "The bright sun can’t be doing her much good, nor the other folks around here watching the proceedings going on.”
Maude watched silently at the proceedings around her. She could tell from looking at Ben that the wheels were turning in his head faster than top speed on his golf cart, and a squirrel-chewed-on, deceased old lady was not going to do the retirement community’s outreach and public relations much good. Ben was on the board of directors with the Cottonwood Arbor startup group. His chief responsibility was P.R. and promotions.
“As soon as we wrap up the preliminary questions, the coroner’s office can remove the deceased, and the remainder of the questions can be completed at the station.” Detective Neil said before resuming his questions.
He took a moment to look at the bystanders. The sun was warm and all involved were wilting as quick as a bouquet of dandelions in a toddler’s fist. He needed to wrap this up fast or he’d have more seniors perishing in the heat.
“Can you give me an approximation of the time you ladies found the resident?” He asked.
Mrs. Sampson spoke up first,
“I think about three hours have passed since Marcella and I called out to Ben and Harold on the third tee box when we saw the squirrel with Erma’s finger.
“Why did you call over to them? Asked the detective.
“We couldn’t just let the varmint scamper off with it, but neither one of us knew what to do!” she replied with exasperated fatigue.
Harold saw her frustration level rising, he motioned Ben over from the bench, pantomiming to grab a water bottle out of his golf bag for Maude. Maude kept on talking.
“While I had called the authorities to report the incident, Harold and Ben walked over and tried to coax the squirrel into giving them the finger!”
“Oh my lordy Maude!” exclaimed Marcella, “Let me tell the detective.”
With the squirrel well supervised, Marcella told Neill that she and Marcella had then
began to look around forthe owner of the missing digit, and that
was when she had found Erma, stretched out behind a clump of ornamental pampas
grass not three feet from a big cottonwood tree with no less than
four squirrel nests in the branches. It is a wonder she was only missing one finger, thought Neill.
Everyone thinks squirrels are cute and cuddly, little do they know that the little buggers
will gnaw on almostanything, even dead animals, they are omnivores not herbivores, he thought while shaking his head.
The detective watched the dwindling group of onlookers, the atmosphere was calm,
but then finding someone wasn’t exactly uncommon at an elderly retirement community
like Cottonwood Arbor. The squirrel did add a new twist though.
What a mess. Poor Erma. Poor Cottonwood Arbor. This was just the kind of incident the facility did not need in the news.Detective Neill left the women and men who found the incident and walked through the small grouping of seniors, crossing over to the coroner’s technician, and knelt down next to the body.
“What can you tell me so far Ted?” Neil asked the tech.
“Female, looks to be in her 80’s to 90’s, no obvious wounds except for the missing third finger on her left hand. There does seem to be a faint purplish tint to her lips, doesn’t look like cosmetics, more of a stain. Shows on her teeth and tongue also.”
“Did you find any containers or substances around her that could have contributed to the coloring?” Asked the detective, as he examined the scene.
“No sir, not a thing.”
“Do you know whether or not the body has been moved?”
“I would think it has been,” said the technician, with just a little bit of sarcasm added to his voice. “I just don’t see how the lady fell in such a prone position.” Erma was laid out on the ground, arms at her sides, head facing to the left as if she had been arranged on an exam table.
“Agreed, just wanted it confirmed.” Sighed Neill.
Detective Neill’s knees creaked and popped as he rose from kneeling. He grimaced, thinking it wouldn’t be too awfully long before he would be checking out the amenities of Cottonwood Arbor. He rubbed his forehead, then pinched the bridge of his nose. This case wasn’t going to be quite as simple as he’d hoped.
“Alright,” he said , while looking at Erma, then the technician, “get all the pictures and evidence tagged, then transport her to the lab. I think it is time we all got out of the sun.”
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