Cold reading murder, p.25
Cold Reading Murder, page 25
She gave him a peck on the cheek, but he did not settle for that, kissing her on the lips convincingly.
“Well?” he added, finally allowing her to come up for air and pulling back slightly. “What’s the verdict?”
They kissed again, even longer this time, and she said, “If I can catch my breath again, what I’m going to tell you is that I’ve decided to take your advice and be brave. I accept your proposal, and here’s what you were after: I do.”
He shifted his weight slightly to wrap her up in his arms and face her. Then he drew back and worked the ring down her finger. “This diamond becomes you, and it’s been waiting all this time to dazzle you,” he told her, and they kissed yet another time. “Come on, let’s take a breather and call Wendy and Ross with the good news. It’s certainly worth sharing.”
* * *
Wendy awoke the next morning a good fifteen minutes before the alarm was set to go off. The room was filled with the gray light of early morning, struggling to establish itself and banish the darkness for good. She felt it was entirely conducive to her thought process. There was nothing bright to distract her yet the way a shaft of the sun would, bouncing off a spot of metal here or glass there as it angled through one of the bedroom windows.
She allowed all the people involved in the current cases to appear before her, not in any particular order, but as a review of suspects. They tumbled forth, sometimes smiling, sometimes frowning—here seeming to be suspicious, there to be beyond reproach, according to the context. But always as a framework, a proscenium for those faces, was Aurelia’s frightening vision. Now, with the elements of perspective, distance, and size applied, the meaning of the cold reading she had given to Milton became clear at last.
Wendy shivered and sat up against her pillow at her epiphany, taking care not to wake Ross, who was facing in the other direction, breathing rhythmically but quietly. It was all out in the open now, and she felt the accompanying adrenaline rush as a reward. The rush continued as she worked all the angles until they fit neatly. Here, at long last, was her aha! moment, incredibly dark and evil as it was, now fully realized. She knew the first thing she had to do was to text Milton and get that much out of the way. But she would not do it in bed next to her darling, sleeping husband.
Slowly, she pulled back the covers and slid over the side into her slippers, grabbing her smartphone on the nightstand and taking it with her into the living room. Yes, it was very early, and she might be waking Milton up, but she had to ask him that one question. His answer would confirm that she was correct about everything, even if he didn’t realize what she was talking about. In fact, it would be far better for him if he didn’t.
Once settled on the living room sofa, she thumbed her message to him and then waited patiently. If he were sound asleep, he might not respond. On the other hand, he might be up and about, fixing his coffee, and able to tell her what she needed to know within a reasonable length of time.
Five interminable minutes passed. Things were so quiet that she could hear the owl clock in the nearby kitchen ticking away methodically. She used the time to iron things out further in her head, making sure she wasn’t missing anything. Logistically, she was certain her father and Ross would approve of her plan and the roles they would play, even if it all shocked them. Or maybe they would give themselves face palms for not coming up with it themselves. No matter. This was not a competition—it would be a cooperative effort to bring these investigations to a close.
Then Wendy’s phone pinged. Milton had finally texted back.
Yes, now that you mention it. Why? came his reply.
I’ll tell you on the Bridge of Sighs. Meet me there around 9
a. m. instead of going in to work right away
But I’ll be late if I do
I’ll write a note to your teacher to excuse you—LOL
Milton closed the exchange by sending her back a smiley face followed by a couple of question marks.
Good. That much of her plan was done.
Although she would rather have let him get those few extra minutes of sleep, she knew she had to awaken Ross and tell him what she’d figured out at last and what she thought he should do. She brought him coffee and a powdered donut from the kitchen to get him alert and focused, and he listened in utter fascination as she trotted out and justified everything down to the last detail.
“That’s incredible. I never even thought of that,” he said. “I won’t ask how you came up with all of it, but my gut tells me you’ve prob’ly nailed it. I think you’ve done it again.”
“Pretty insidious scheme, I’d say.” But she took a second to flash a smile his way as she pointed at him playfully. “You’ve got some powdered sugar on your upper lip.”
“You know how to lighten things up, too,” he said, running his finger across it and then licking up what he’d accumulated.
Next, she had to talk to her father and tell him the same things she’d told Ross; after that, she envisioned that the three of them and perhaps some backup from the station would go in action. The end result would be that they would successfully prevent the murders from going cold. She did not let herself think for one second that either of them would not go along with her, and it was with a feeling of great accomplishment that both of them enthusiastically congratulated her on the superb detective work she had done. It was making as much sense to them as it had to her.
“Let’s meet up at the station at eight,” Bax said, winding up his session with Wendy over the phone. “We’ll review everything again and make sure we’ve covered all the bases.”
If Wendy was right about everything—and both men indicated to her that they thought she was—it could all go down very fast.
CHAPTER 21
Wendy stood in the middle of the Bridge of Sighs once again, gazing out at the river from the railing. The Viking Cruise ship that had docked the day before on Water Street was now pulling out to head upstream against the strong brown current to its next stop—Vicksburg. Eventually, it would make its way all the way up to Memphis from New Orleans. It was as good a way as any for her to pass the time until Milton arrived. It was already 9:05, making him five minutes late. Had he ignored her instructions to meet her here first instead of going into work? She fervently hoped that was not the case.
Her worries vanished, however, as she turned away from the river just in time to see him parking his car on Broad Street and then heading her way with a snap to his step and offering up a friendly wave. His utter obliviousness was the confirming sign she had expected to see.
“You’re looking chipper this morning,” she said as he neared, disguising the sense of relief she was feeling.
He continued to smile and then stopped briefly to take in the activity on the dock below, speaking without making eye contact as if she were far below him. “Thanks, but I’m slightly confused. Why did you want to meet me here? And why did you text me that strange question? What in the world’s going on?”
“I was trying out an ambitious and rather chilling theory of mine,” she told him, glancing down at her phone for the time.
9: 0 7.
She took a breath and continued. “I needed confirmation from you before I went any further.”
Milton turned away from the river and the departing ship and faced her at last, but by then his smile had turned into a frown. “And my answer to your text confirmed something for you?”
“Yes.”
“That seems so weird to me. Your question didn’t make any sense in the first place. I had never even given the matter any consideration, and I still haven’t figured out what it means.”
“I can see why you’d say that. In fact, I’m greatly relieved that you don’t know what it means.”
“Should I have known?”
“I doubt it. I doubt anyone else would have, either.”
“Are you gonna explain it further to me, or are you just gonna keep me hanging like this?”
Wendy checked her phone again.
9: 08.
“Why do you keep checking the time like that?” he said. “Is something gonna happen soon that I don’t know about?”
“Yes, and it’s my opinion there’s a lot you don’t know about. It’s part of the explanation that I’ll get to shortly. But the main reason you’re here with me on the bridge right this minute is so I can keep an eye on you.”
His frown lines grew deeper, and he almost looked hurt. “Keep an eye on me? You make it sound like I’ve been doing something wrong. Have you been spying on me? I know your husband is a detective. Has he been tailing me?”
“Don’t get upset,” she told him. “It’s nothing like that. What I’m going to tell you is not going to be easy to hear, but I want you to listen to me very carefully and tell me the truth as you know it.”
Wendy could not recall seeing the young man’s handsome face so full of creases and doubt, and she kept recalling the descriptions of Milton from various sources as being “naïve” or “too trusting.”
“Am I in some kinda danger?” he said, intensely surveying their surroundings for anything and anyone that looked suspicious.
“Just calm down and listen to me, because you’re in the safest place you can be right now.”
* * *
Bax sidled up to the counter at Party Palooza with the biggest smile he could manage. Both Rex and Merrie stood behind it with warm, expectant smiles of their own. It was always how they greeted their considerable batch of loyal customers they had earned with their hard work and creativity over the years.
“Bet I know why you’re here this morning,” Merrie said, her voice as welcoming as her smile. “You’re gonna place that singing telegram, aren’tcha? Your pretty redheaded daughter was in here doing all the research for you. If you don’t mind my saying, marriage appears to be agreeing with her. I think she’s even more beautiful now than she was on her wedding day.”
“Thank you for the compliment. I have to agree with you. My son-in-law is just as happy as she is, too. And she did a great job running interference for me on the telegram business, too,” Bax said. “She picked out just the right lyrics for me, and that’s the one I wanna pay for right now. I’ll be sending it to my wonderful, brand-new fiancée, and I know it’ll be the last thing she’d be expecting to get.”
“Would that be one Miz Lyndell Slover?” Merrie said. “I still remember how pretty she looked at the reception with that gardenia behind her ear. I thought it was the perfect romantic touch.”
“Yes, it was. And, of course, my fiancée is Miz Lyndell. Funny you should bring that up about the gardenia,” Bax said, adding that treasured recollection to his smile. It went all the way up to his eyes. “I thought the same thing the second I saw it. In fact, it blew me away.”
“My warmest congratulations to you both,” Merrie added, while Rex seconded the sentiment. “We noticed how cozy the two of you were throughout Wendy’s wedding. We figured it might not be long before there was another wedding in the works in your family, didn’t we, Rex?”
“I have to admit we have an eye for these things,” he said. “You Winchesters may end up being our best customers of all time. Or at least here in Rosalie.”
Bax unfolded the copy of “What You Mean to Me” that Wendy had given him, placed it on the counter, and tapped it twice with his index finger. “This is the one I want, of course. I can almost hear that talented young man singing it right now.”
“It’s our most popular delivery,” Merrie said. “You’ve certainly made an excellent choice.”
“Milton really does a great job, too,” Rex added. “It’s such a straightforward, simple tune that everyone seems to relate to. We keep a record of customer comments, and we get the most compliments on it.”
“You don’t have to sell me,” Bax said while reaching into his coat pocket. “Say no more. I’m assuming you’ll take my check?”
“Of course. We did last time for your daughter’s reception and everything,” Merrie said, reaching under the counter and producing a clipboard with forms. “You’ll need to fill out all these details for us—you know, the date and time of day of the delivery, the address, and the rest of that stuff so Milton can get it all just right. There’s a pen attached for your convenience.”
“Thank you. I’m sure he’ll do a great job. From all the reports I’ve gotten, he always does. After all, he’s the face and voice of Party Palooza, right?” Bax said, putting his checkbook on the counter in front of him.
“He is, indeed,” Rex said. “We couldn’t do without him. For a brief period there, we thought we had lost him, but we upped the ante a bit to let him know we just couldn’t do without him, and he came home to us.”
“I can imagine. But before you tell me how much I owe you, I need to clarify something with you if you don’t mind, Mr. Boudreaux.”
“Of course. What’s that?”
“How do I make sure Milton delivers one of those heavy rag dolls as a souvenir to my fiancée? I want to get my money’s worth, you know. Do I need to pay extra for that? I’ll be glad to, of course. Nothing flimsy for my Lyndell, you understand. I want only the very best.”
While Merrie’s face was the epitome of confusion, Rex narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat noisily. “What are you talking about, Mr. Winchester? Pay extra for what?” he said.
Bax quickly turned to Merrie and said, “Do you know what I’m talking about, Miz Boudreaux?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any idea,” she said. “What do you mean—heavy? All our rag doll souvenirs are the same size and weigh the same.”
“Yes,” Rex added. “You can see for yourself from the ones lined up here on the counter. They’re all the same. Go ahead and pick them all up if you want. There’s no difference. We have no irregulars.”
“Interesting word to use. Semantics is an underrated subject,” Bax said.
“I’m afraid I’m not following you,” Rex added.
Then Bax followed through with Rex’s suggestion and picked the dolls up and set them down, one by one. “It seems you’re absolutely right. These are all perfectly consistent. But I still want one that’s heavier than these are.” He finished with a wink.
Rex shook his head slowly. “I’m still not understanding you, sir, and I’m trying very hard.”
“Don’t you? Do you perhaps keep them somewhere else?” Bax continued. “I know you have that large costume and prop room in back from my previous visit when we planned my daughter’s delightful reception. Maybe another grand tour would be in order. This time, to every nook and cranny. Perhaps an inspection of a closet or spare storeroom or two? Is that where you keep them? Or should I say—it?”
In a sudden and breathtaking sequence, Rex quickly pulled his hand back from the counter, trying to reach under it, but Bax preempted him by pulling out his gun like the professional he was. “Don’t even think about it, Mr. Boudreaux. I want to see both your hands above your head right now.” Then he turned to Merrie. “I’ll need to ask you to do the same thing, Miz Boudreaux.”
With a look of pure terror on her face, she complied, and the tone of her voice was panicky as well. “What’s . . . going on?” Then she turned to her husband. “Rex? Why did you reach for the gun like that? We’re not being robbed. What were you thinking?”
“You can’t search these premises without a warrant. That’s the law,” Rex said, flashing on Bax. His tone had morphed into something loud and harsh, while his features were no longer handsome and benign. The complete transformation was on the order of startling.
“Detective Rierson has been waiting outside in his patrol car with one. We had sufficient probable cause for the judge. We have another car covering your back door just in case something went wrong in here and you got it into your head to try and escape or something equally foolish. We’re onto your scheme, you know. Do you want to prolong this or come clean?” Bax told him.
Merrie continued her meltdown. “What is he talking about, Rex? What have you done?”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t believe that’s an act you’re putting on, Miz Boudreaux,” Bax said. “If you really weren’t a part of this, you need to make that perfectly clear to us.”
“What are you talking about? A part of what? Party Palooza? Of course, I’m a part of it. Rex and I own it together. You’re not making a bit of sense to me, and you’re one of our best customers.”
“Mr. Boudreaux,” Bax began, ignoring Merrie, “on the chance that you might be working for somebody else and this isn’t all of your own doing, now would be the time to tell me everything you know. It might make a difference in your sentencing down the road. But before we do or say anything else, I want both of you to come from behind the counter and leave that gun a’ yours where it is. Keep your hands up while I call for Detective Rierson to come in with the warrant so we can start searching and can get the proof we need.”
They both complied, but Merrie was in tears. “What have you done, Rex?” she said. “What in holy hell have you done?”
“Are we officially under arrest now?” Rex said. “If not, you need to leave my building.”
“No, you’re not under arrest right this second,” Bax said. “But we’re not going anywhere, either. Give us a little time, Mr. Boudreaux. We haven’t searched the premises yet.”
“Knock yourselves out,” Rex added, trying to sound tough, but he came off much more like a punk who had just been cornered.
* * *
Some twenty minutes later, Bax and Ross together ushered Rex Boudreaux into the cavernous prop and costume room and directed him toward the locked closet in the far corner that one of the CID officers had just discovered.
“Unlock it for us, please,” Bax said.
Rex exhaled noisily and selected a small key from his larger ring and then did as he was told. And there on several shelves were the “heavier” rag dolls that both Bax and Ross had expected to find. That Wendy had theorized they would find. That Wendy had predicted was at the heart of all this death and devious behavior. Although Aurelia Spangler had not seen completely beyond the veil with her undependable gifts, Wendy had done so with her remarkable brainpower.
