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Natural Causes by JMM Holloway (Originally published in Blue Murder) From across the squad room the blonde looked passable. Up close, she was a waste of my time. Bleach frazzled her blonde hair. When she bent over to squint at the sign that identified me as Detective Ezra 'Bud" Self things bulged in all the wrong places and sagged everywhere else. I’d pretty well tuned out her sad story about poor murdered Mama till she mentioned Julian.
"Mama's wonderful house should have come to me. It would have if Julian," she tightened her thin lips around the name, "hadn't killed her."
"Who's Julian?"
"Mama's third husband."
"Your stepdaddy then."
"Stepdaddy?" She lit a cigarette without asking permission and coughed out a laugh. "He's five years younger than me."
In spite of myself I was getting interested. "What about the will?"
"Only an old one that left everything to him. Mama would have changed it if she'd had time."
"How'd your mama die?"
"I told you before. Insulin overdose."
"Your mother a diabetic?"
"Yeah, but she never gave her own shot. She always made Julian do it. This time he gave her way too much. Or maybe he drugged her with something else. Anyway he did it."
"This Julian have an alibi?"
"Said he was out at a fish camp on the river that night. Some people claim they saw him there." She leaned close to make sure I got her point. The flush on her cheeks turned out to be broken capillaries. "He must have snuck out, killed Mama then drove back before anyone knew he was gone."
I tilted my chair away from the stale bourbon on her breath. "Not much I can do for you."
"What do you mean not much you can do? Do an autopsy." She looked around for an ashtray and not finding one flicked the butt toward the wastebasket.
I decided to give her my best professional advice as a veteran detective. "Let it be, sweetheart. Your suspect has an alibi. Your victim had a disease. Accidental death. Happens all the time."
She wagged her head at me. "Mama's not in the ground yet and Julian Partain's already got a girlfriend on the scene. I call that convenient. You call it accidental?"
My wastebasket started sending up smoke signals. I quenched it with the leftovers in my coffee cup and smiled at her like the trash fire made my day. "Even in a town where every fifth name is French, can't be too many Julian Partains. I'm wondering if this guy could be my old pal from high school."
"Your old pal? Is that why you're already taking his side?"
"Don’t worry about me taking Julian's side." I shoved a pad and pencil at her. "Give me the address and I'll check it out soon as I can."
I got around to checking on it a couple of days later. Had to give the homies and their drugged out clients some attention first or the unsolved cases in my files would outnumber whores on my block. I went out after my shift. No need to make the case official since I mostly wanted to see what Partain had got himself up to after all these years. What I found was an older suburb with winding streets, deep lawns and big trees, the kind of place a cop's salary could never buy into. Not quite the mansions like Blondie claimed but big, expensive houses.
The right address turned out to be a pile of parti-colored bricks and puke-pink shutters. I scanned for lawn flamingoes. Knew they had to be there but couldn't find any among the other gewgaws. It was the ugliest house in the neighborhood, maybe the ugliest house in town. A man who would kill to get hold of it had to be desperate.
Soon as I pushed the bell Julian opened the door. Except for a few gray hairs, he looked the same as the night the class of '77 graduated. No sign of a grief-stricken husband till he recognized me.
"What you want, Buddy?" Julian looked past me and watched an oversized heap pull up at the far curb. I followed his gaze to what could be the same tired blonde who came to my office.
I flashed my badge to save an explanation. "It's Bud now but you can call me Detective Self. I hear you've had some trouble."
"I got no trouble."
"Your stepdaughter says different. She stopped by the station to express her concerns. Mind if I come inside?"
He turned and led the way down the hall, moving like the athlete he'd been when he played star forward and I'd warmed the bench. Still the winner, still the guy who’d stolen Linda, the only decent girl who’d ever given me the time of day.
Inside, the house was as ugly as outside, but there were signs of change: rugs rolled up, knickknacks wrapped in paper, boxes waiting open. One box was half-packed with books and framed photographs. I picked up the picture on top and stared at what could have been the twin of the blonde plus twenty or thirty years.
"The late Mrs. Partain?"
"Yeah, that's Joyce." He turned back to his boxes. "And Darlene's the one you should be asking about her death."
"Who's Darlene?"
"My stepdaughter. Didn't you say she sent you here?"
"Darlene. Right. She must have told me her name sometime before I started paying attention."
Julian turned back to his boxes. "Glad you’re not taking her wild talk about me killing Joyce seriously."
"Not so fast. I’ve still got a job to do. So convince me I should be questioning Darlene instead of you."
"She's hot to get this house. No sooner had I found Joyce’s body than Darlene showed up ready to take possession. Got a big shock when I told her it was still mine." Julian laughed, a very confident laugh.
I considered what he'd told me. Maybe Darlene got tired of waiting for Mama's wonderful house. That gave her a motive. If I intended to investigate I'd have to look at her as hard as Julian, except I had no reason to cause her trouble. Julian was a different story.
I examined the framed photograph in my hand again. "Always wondered why anybody'd marry a woman old enough to be his mother. Especially one with a face like dried oatmeal. Had to be the money, right?"
Julian jerked the picture away and put it back in the box, face down. "Is that what you came to ask?"
"Nah. The daughter wants an autopsy. Wants to see if there's drugs or unusual amounts of insulin. How do you feel about that?"
He pointed to a brass jar sitting on a table. "Joyce was cremated yesterday."
That brought me up short. The daughter hadn't mentioned cremation and she would have if she'd known. Looked like old Julian had decided to get rid of the evidence in a rush after Darlene got suspicious.
I thought about what you can tell from ashes. Not much, but no need to let Julian off that easy. I pointed at the brass jar. "Mind if I have the medical examiner do an analysis on those?"
"Be my guest," Julian said like he didn't have a care in the world. Maybe he didn't. Or maybe he knew I was blowing smoke.
I tucked Joyce under my arm. "Think I rate a brew after twenty years?"
Over beers we reminisced about basketball, high school and people we hadn't seen since, but never got around to Linda, the one thing we really had in common, the only reason I'd decided to gig Partain in the first place.
Linda was the sweetest girl I ever knew. She stayed innocent while all the tramps in school warmed backseats. I had to believe she'd remained unspoiled in spite of Partain's worst efforts. I wondered for about the millionth time what became of her. I wondered too how Julian could turn his back on a girl like Linda then end up with Joyce.
"Partain, tell me why you married that old hag." It was as close as I could bring myself to asking about Linda.
He didn't take the bait. "Joyce didn't seem so old when I married her. Anyway I came to appreciate a woman with a few miles on her. Beats a shy virgin anytime." He shook his head sadly like he'd discovered some terrible fact of life. "We'd never have had a problem if Joyce stayed forty. In the end she just got too old for me."
"Women do worse things than grow old on you, pal. Still, no excuse to kill 'em."
"I didn't kill Joyce. Why would I?"
"You just said she got old. And maybe she found out about your new girlfriend."
The question failed to jolt a reaction out of Partain. "She understood," he said. "Old women do."
I didn't argue with him. Truth was I could care less. Like I needed another homicide on my desk.
I finished a second beer before heading out the door. The heap still sat at the curb, but I didn't waste any attention on it after a silver Jaguar pulled into the drive. A woman with dark, smooth hair and skin like cream slid out from behind the wheel.
Linda.
My first instinct said grab her. Up close she smelled sweet and it wasn't just the perfume. Linda was still Linda. Holding her made me feel like the boy I'd been the last time I touched her. A boy who’d had more ambitions than dodging work and serving out his twenty-five years on the force. Everything would have been different with Linda.
My second instinct said go back in the house and cuff Partain, but I'd missed my chance at that. Now I regretted it. If Julian offed his old lady then somewhere down the line Linda would be in danger too.
The next day before my shift started, I drove out to Partain's ugly house again. Linda answered the door in paint-splattered jeans and an old shirt that swallowed her. Still she looked like royalty when she stepped back and led me inside. There the rose wallpaper had been stripped along with every other trace of the old woman.
"You planning on moving in?" I asked.
She smiled, showing small, perfect teeth. "That's the plan."
"Bad plan."
"Why? Because you suspect Julian of killing Joyce?"
"Linda, if he killed once he'll likely kill again."
"If you're so sure he's a murderer, why haven't you arrested him?"
"Maybe I will, but right now I'm more interested in protecting you."
"I don't want your help. I only want Julian."
So Julian won again and I got sidelined. That pissed me off. "You two have something going on before the crone died?"
She mimed shock. "Not the way you mean."
I should have known. With Linda still safe on her pedestal all I had to do was convince her to dump Partain. I thought I saw a way. "Seems like you could be Julian's motive."
She narrowed golden-brown eyes at me. "What do you mean?"
"Julian wanted you. Being past it, the wife wouldn't care if he had a little something on the side, but you demanded scared vows. If he divorced the old bitch he'd lose all this." I gestured around the room. "So what could he do? Wait another ten or twenty years for her to kick the bucket? Not with a woman like you around."
"I think you'd better leave, Bud."
I said, "I only meant you were worth killing for, not that you had anything to do with the murder," but she ushered me out the door before I finished my apology.
I spent the next week trying to figure out how I could get her away from Julian, tracking her to keep her safe until I managed it. The answer finally came to me. Maybe if Linda had an alternative she'd give up on Partain.
Another day passed before I got up my nerve and caught her alone. When I did I had to check the house number. The multi-colored brick had been painted cream and the black-faced boy at the curb had been hauled off along with all the other lawn trash. I rang the bell.
Linda answered with a sad smile. "Oh, Bud. Not again."
"It's not what you think."
She looked like she was about to close the door in my face so I blurted out everything that had been on my mind. "It should have been you and me all along. Let me get you out of here. Away from Julian."
She rested her soft palm on my cheek. "That's sweet, Bud, but I don't want to go."
"I'm serious. Forget Julian. Marry me."
"Marry you?"
I started to sweat. "We were pretty serious in high school, right? At least until Julian came along. I been wanting you back ever since. I know you'd never screw around on me like my exes did. And I wouldn't be injecting you with a deadly drug no matter how old you got."
"Bud, how can you propose? You hardly know me anymore. You haven't even asked what I've been doing all these years, where I've been."
"I know everything I need to know."
"I can't believe you mean any of this. You're only asking because you want to protect me from Julian, but you needn't worry. Joyce died of natural causes."
"She died of an insulin overdose, Linda. Call it a mistake or admit Julian did it, but don't say natural causes. That's not what it means."
"Of course, it does. What could be more natural for Joyce? She died from the most dangerous thing in her life. The main thing that threatened her. It's like a race driver being killed in a crash. Or you being shot by a criminal. It's the most likely cause of a person's death. Natural causes."
"Jeez, Linda, you sound as dumb as my first wife when you talk like that."
This time she did slam the door in my face. No matter how I pounded and called her name, she wouldn't respond.
Afterward she'd only talk to me on the phone and then not for long. Whatever I said, she wouldn't buy Julian as the murderer I knew he was. I'd known it from the first. I'd been lazy then. I didn't pursue it till it was too late and now Linda would pay--if not right away, then whenever her money started to look more enticing to Partain than she did.
The blonde daughter still came around. She'd given up on convincing me, but she tried her story on every other cop who hung out at a bar up the street. Her useless attempts gave me an excuse to call Linda again only I didn't let on that Darlene had become the station joke. I let Linda think Blondie was actually getting somewhere.
"You have to stop her, Bud," Linda said. "It's not fair to Julian. Please. For me."
I'd do a lot for Linda, but forcing someone to be fair to Partain wasn't one of them. Within a few hours it was moot anyway. Blondie left the bar late that night and finished off a bottle of bourbon before she fell asleep with her cigarette in hand. It smoldered into the mattress and she never woke up. I remembered the telltale alcoholic veins in her face and her cigarette butt catching my wastebasket on fire. Natural causes, Linda would call it.
As soon as I heard I went out to Partain's. I pushed past Linda into a tastefully transformed living room. "Thought you'd want to know. Julian's stepdaughter burned up in her bed last night."
"I'm sorry to hear that but, of course, Darlene was almost certain to come to a bad end." Linda didn't sound very sorry.
"Convenient for Julian her roasting herself before she could get anyone interested in her mother's murder."
"If you're still saying –"
"I'm saying it's about time I started acting like a cop. I'm going to have the medical examiner take a real close look at the body just in case Julian decided to take care of Darlene the way he took care of the old lady."
"Can't I talk you out of doing that?"
"No, because I intend to keep you from ending up like Joyce and her daughter."
Now she looked sorry. "I'm beginning to wonder if you could be right about Julian."
It was the last thing I expected to hear.
"I need to think this over," she said. "Can we drive out to the park?"
"The park's full of dealers. And the whores'll start strolling before long."
"I don't think I need to worry with you along, do I?" She gave me a quick hug then left before I could answer. When she reappeared she wore a short skirt and stiletto heels--more like something the dead blonde would wear than Linda.
"What's with the outfit?"
"You'll see."
She took a handbag from the closet and walked out the door.
I didn't say anything for fear she'd change her mind. Suddenly everything seemed possible again. Maybe Linda would give me a second chance. Maybe she'd be willing to live in a rented duplex and stepmother a couple of snot-nosed kids. Maybe a good woman could save my sorry life.
We drove to the park. Linda nodded at a pair of tire tracks. "Up there. Remember?"
After a short bumpy drive I parked out of sight just the way I had in high school. Linda was rummaging through her purse. She pulled out a gun.
They say your life passes before your eyes when you think you're going to die. Mine didn't. What I saw was Linda. Linda killing Joyce to get Julian. Linda killing the daughter to quiet her suspicions. Now killing the cop before he could investigate. All in the most natural ways possible.
I saw Linda leaving the car dressed so much like the other whores. No one would notice her. I saw my murder chalked up to one of the dealers who hung out in the park. I heard Linda say, "Like you being shot by a criminal...natural causes."
THE END JMM Holloway © 2006 |
Other
short stories by JMM Holloway have appeared in several online venues as
well as print anthologies, the latest being Murder Across the Map.
She lives in the Texas Hill Country with her husband, Bob, a university
professor.