Broadcast 4 Murder Read online

  Herb leaned toward me and shook his head. “I think he got into a fight with someone and they lost their temper. Next thing you know, the murderer grabbed the nearest weapon, and the rest is history.”

  “That would be believable if, say, the nearest weapon was something that was easily accessible in the radio station. But sewing scissors?” I asked.

  “Phee’s right,” my mother added. “Vernadeen’s show was the only one with a sewing theme. Thank God!”

  Just then the phone rang, and my mother walked to the kitchen counter to get it. I heard her utter four words, and in that instant I knew I had to get out of there and make it fast.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Seven would be perfect,” she said.

  What followed was no surprise. My mother informed Herb and me that the book club ladies would be over shortly, and Louise Munson would be picking up fried chicken from one of the supermarkets. Shirley was going to bring dessert, and everyone else was going to bring a salad or side dish. Aunt Ina, of course, would be stopping by AJ’s Purveyors of Fine Foods in Peoria to select something one of their chefs prepared. Naturally Herb and I were invited to stay.

  “Thanks for the invite, Harriet, but I’m meeting Bill and Wayne at Curley’s for a brew. Of course, if you have leftovers . . .”

  “Nice try. Streetman will be getting any tidbits of chicken in his kibble, and I plan to freeze the rest.”

  I almost started to laugh but caught myself. I joined Herb as he walked toward the door. “Tell Bill and Wayne I said hi.”

  Bill and Wayne were Herb’s pinochle buddies, and I got to know them when they volunteered to work the lights at the Stardust Theater for an ill-fated production of Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap in which my mother and her friends appeared.

  “Yeah, those two are bound to have their own theories,” he said, “but I still think someone lost it and went for the scissors. There were lots of people who wanted to have their own shows. All those deputies need to do is find out which one of them was unhinged.”

  At the mention of the word “unhinged,” my mother gasped. “Sylvia! Sylvia Strattlemeyer. She and Howard used to date, according to Myrna. That makes perfect sense. It’s always the disgruntled ex-girlfriend or the jealous wife.”

  I let out a really audible moan. “Since when is it always some romance gone bad? You’ve got to stop watching so much Telemundo or you’ll drive yourself nuts.”

  “Your daughter’s got a point, you know. My money’s on someone who was pissed they didn’t get their own show.”

  “Well,” my hand was already on the doorknob, “I really need to get a move on. I’ll catch up later.”

  “If I hear anything important tonight from the girls, I’ll let you know.”

  Thirty seconds later Herb and I were out the door, and I raced for my car.

  “Whoa, you really must be in a hurry.”

  “You bet I am. In a matter of minutes one of those book club ladies is going to arrive early and give me an earful of her theories. Have fun at Curley’s.”

  “Tell Marshall he should join us sometime.”

  Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what he’d like to do. It took him weeks to get over the time we sat with your pinochle crew to track a killer.

  As I drove home, my stomach churned. Granted, I was hungry, but I attributed the upset to something else. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my mother’s friends would have all sorts of wackadoodle theories about Howard Buell’s murder. And yes, I was calling it a murder, even though the sheriff’s office hadn’t released their official ruling. I also knew once the shock wore off, my mother would plague me nonstop to “find the killer before the next pair of scissors slices into her intestines instead of a yard of linen fabric.”

  Like it or not, I’d be cajoled into doing some sleuthing. Most likely with Streetman at the dog park so I could pick up the gossip while everyone else picked up other prizes. Ugh. My mind played out the obvious, beginning with the timeline, as I continued the drive home.

  I knew there were pickleball matches taking place at the courts adjacent to the Men’s Club building. According to my mother, those started promptly at eight. But what about activities in the Men’s Club? Her program didn’t begin until ten, so it was quite possible something else could have been going on without her knowledge. A club breakfast? A card game? That Men’s Club had lots of rooms for all sorts of meetings, and knowing that most Sun City West residents were early risers, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Howard Buell’s murderer had been in plain sight only hours before.

  Then I realized something. I would need to find out the time of death in order to get a better idea of who could have done it. Nate would find out from one of the deputies, but, thankfully, I didn’t have to wait.

  When the news came on at nine, Channel 15’s scroll read “Suspicious Death at Sun City West Radio Station.” After listening to breaking news about car crashes in the Greater Phoenix area and an undetermined odor that resulted in an evacuation at one of the terminals at Sky Harbor airport, I finally caught the story about Howard Buell. It was all of ten seconds or less. The man’s death was ruled suspicious.

  Gee, you think?

  The news anchor didn’t release the name, pending notification of next of kin, but did say it was someone who worked at the radio station. She also mentioned the time of death was estimated to be three to four hours before the body was discovered. That would make it anytime between six and seven, give or take a half hour.

  No wonder Myrna let out that banshee shriek. The guy’s blood was probably still fresh. I needed to find out what activities were going on that morning at the Men’s Club, and I needed a reliable source. Instead of calling my mother, I turned to the one impartial source I had: Google.

  Within minutes I located the Men’s Club building schedule from the Sun City West website and learned that only one activity had been scheduled for early this morning: a seven thirty bagel breakfast followed by a game of euchre. It was a regular Tuesday morning event for the Sun City West Men’s Euchre Club. Now all I needed to do was find out who the heck was in the club and who might have added murder to their deck of cards.

  My God! Why am I doing this?

  No sooner had I written the words “Need euchre member list” on a scrap of paper than Marshall called. He had checked into a motel in Benson and, if all went well, was certain he’d find that no-good dad tomorrow.

  “We’ve got to take a drive down here, hon,” he said. “Kartchner Caverns State Park is only nine miles from here. Those underground caves are supposed to be phenomenal.”

  “Sounds good. April maybe? When it’s warmer. I know you’ll want to do some hiking as well.”

  “Boy, you’ve got my number. So, tell me how it went tonight at your mother’s house.”

  “I fled before the book club ladies descended on the place. I only had to contend with my mom and Herb. Listen, I know I should leave this to the sheriff’s office, but you know as well as I do I’ll never have any peace from my mother. I figured what’s the harm in tracking down a few details.”

  “Uh-huh. Keep going.”

  “My mother and Myrna weren’t the first people in the Men’s Club building that morning. The men’s euchre club was scheduled to eat bagels and play cards. At least according to the Rec Center calendar.”

  “Yeesh. You didn’t waste any time getting started.”

  “That’s all I did. Get started, I mean. I have to find out who those euchre players are and who was there. I’m sure I’ll find the membership list.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t meet with anyone you don’t know. We’re talking murder, not petty theft.”

  “I know. And what about George Fowler? The station manager. He had carte blanche to the place. I imagine he’s the first person of interest as far as the sheriff’s office is concerned. He had means and opportunity. And none of us know about motive, right?”

  “Try not to get ahead of yourself, and keep in mind it might n
ot have been anyone connected to the Men’s Club. You said yourself the building was wide open, according to your mom and Myrna. Who knows who could’ve gone in and out.”

  “Aargh. Wide open and no surveillance. Like with all the other buildings, the club president or designee has a key to their room. Guess that might change in the future, huh?”

  “One would think. But someone had to open the building first thing in the morning. Maintenance maybe?”

  “Nate’s going to have a chat with our favorite deputies as a favor to me. I’ll ask him to find out. Oh my gosh! I just thought of something. The pickleball courts are spitting distance from the Men’s Club building, and they start practicing at the crack of dawn so they’ll be ready for their matches. It would be real easy for someone to slip away during a break, commit the heinous deed, and then lob a ball over the net as if nothing else mattered.”

  “Um, if you’re going to investigate, then remember what Nate always says: ‘Don’t widen the net of suspects until you have to.’ The euchre club would be a good starting point, but don’t drive yourself crazy with this. I’m sure those deputies have a good handle on it.”

  “And if not?”

  “Aargh. Then it’s business as usual for us if we’re asked to consult. Anyway, I hope to get things wrapped up tomorrow. I’ll give you a buzz and keep you posted. Make sure you lock up.”

  “Already done. Love you, too.”

  It was impossible not to dwell on the suspects who kept popping up in my mind. I’d no sooner start to fall asleep when another name and fuzzy image jolted me awake. It was no use. I was one of those people who had to write everything down and organize it. The clock by my bed read 11:33, and I promised myself that, no matter what, by 11:59 I would turn off the lights for good.

  Careful not to accidentally set off the car alarm from the key fob I kept in my nightstand, I rummaged around for a pen and pad. The key fob was my aunt Ina’s idea, and a pretty decent one. If an intruder were to break in, I could push the car’s siren and hopefully scare the daylights out of whoever it was. Since Marshall and I moved in together, the key fob was more of an old habit rather than my first line of defense.

  With pen and pad in hand, I sat up, leaned against my pillow, and wrote my list, beginning with Vernadeen Stibbens. Granted, she was in Iowa, but did anyone really know that for sure? I moved on to Malcolm Porter, who owned that supply store in Peoria. He was the one who wanted the live broadcasting to go the way of rotary phones and typewriters. Then there was George Fowler himself. I couldn’t get past the word “opportunity” when it came to him. Also, he seemed more concerned about dead air than the dead body a few feet away.

  Sylvia Strattlemeyer did have a motive if I was to buy into my mother’s theory, and then, of course, there were the unnamed euchre players. Maybe one of them held a grudge. All in all, it wasn’t an outrageous list. I’d seen worse. But that was before I got the news from Nate the following morning that Williams Investigations was asked to assist on the case.

  CHAPTER 6

  Surprisingly, I got a restful night’s sleep once I completed my suspect list. I was anxious to share it with Nate the next morning at work, but before I could reach into my bag to pull out the piece of notepaper and knock on his door, he came out of his office and announced in a voice loud enough to be heard in Baltimore, “Marshall won the damn bet! We’re on that scissors-stabbing case. I just texted him.”

  “What damn bet?” I asked. “He didn’t mention a bet to me last night.”

  “That’s right. He didn’t mention anything to me either.” Augusta looked up from her computer screen and reached for her coffee cup.

  Nate gave her an odd look and laughed. “We always bet on whether or not the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office is going to ask us to consult on a case. Frankly, I didn’t think it would be this soon. The guy was found dead yesterday and the classification moved from suspicious to homicide only a few hours ago. Name’s been released to the media as well. It’ll probably be on the midday news.”

  I knew the county was mired in assaults, murders, drug arrests, kidnappings, hit-and-runs, and all sorts of crimes that plagued big cities like Phoenix, but Nate and Marshall weren’t usually called to consult on Sun City West cases until the county deputies had completed the initial legwork.

  I took a step toward him. “Did they say why they pulled you in so early on the case?”

  “Oh yeah, and it’s a beaut. They got an anonymous call late yesterday from one of the pickleball players. The woman insisted she saw someone leave the courts and go inside the building, but it was too dark for her to give a description. It was a little before six, the lights on the pickleball court had gone out, and the sun was just starting to appear on the horizon.”

  “I thought there was always a monitor there, or someone who officiated the matches.”

  “This was before the actual competition began. It was practice time. At dawn, mind you. Those players must really be fanatic.”

  “There couldn’t have been that many players on the courts, could there?”

  “The deputies asked the caller if she could provide an estimate of players and she guessed around twenty-five. But wait. It gets better. There were forty-four players signed up for the match, and because no one knows which twenty-five were the ones on the court, all forty-four players need to be questioned. Talk about widening a net of suspects. That’s where we come in.”

  “Ugh. Sounds worse than when you had to question the archery club that fall.” And Marshall’s probably kicking himself in the pants for telling me not to even think about those pickleballers.

  “Needless to say, Deputies Bowman and Ranston need our help interviewing possible witnesses regarding who might have left the court. Keep in mind, one of those would-be witnesses might turn out to be the killer. So, we’ll need to be quite savvy with our questioning.”

  “I don’t suppose the anonymous caller saw anyone come back to the courts.”

  “Of course she did. All the players who weren’t there for early practice. God knows how many of them there were. I’m beginning to get a headache already.”

  “One good thing,” Augusta announced.

  I walked to the Keurig and popped a K-Cup into the machine. “What’s that?”

  “You’ll have all the inside scoop for your mother.”

  Nate looked as if he was about to choke. “No inside scoop! All of this is confidential.”

  “Confidential as in I can’t tell my mother you’re on the case or confidential as in I can’t tell her what you find out?”

  “The last part. You can tell her we were called in to consult, and if there’s something the sheriff’s office feels she needs to know, I’m sure they’ll take care of it.”

  “Oh, she’ll need to know all right. In fact, I put together my own list of suspects to get ahead of the game. Here. Take it.”

  I handed him the note, having made another copy for myself.

  “You’re becoming a regular Jessica Fletcher, aren’t you? I suppose living with Marshall, it was bound to rub off. So, what’ve you got?”

  I went on to explain about Malcolm Porter’s comment and the fact that Sylvia Strattlemeyer got dumped by the victim. Next, I moved on to the euchre players.

  “Nice job, kiddo. Right now, all Marshall and I were asked to do was interview the pickleballers. No one knows for sure if Howard actually showed up at the courts and then went into the radio station or skipped the courts altogether. Either way, it got him the same unfortunate result. Yeesh. I’ll get a contact list and get started. As far as I know, the sheriff’s office is going to speak with the euchre players.” Then he turned to Augusta, “You’ll need to make some phone calls and set up appointments. Deputy Ranston said we could use the posse station in Sun City West.”

  “You got it,” she replied.

  Nate took a breath and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “I guarantee interviewing those players is only the beginning. You should know by now how these thing
s escalate.”

  Only too well.

  “By the way, you didn’t mention how your mother and Myrna were dealing with it. It must have sunk in by now.”

  “I saw her right before the book club ladies converged at her place last night. No doubt she’ll call me during my break to insist I do something. I decided not to wait. Hence the list I gave you.”

  “You don’t fool me. You’ve already figured out a way to have a chitchat with the first name that pops up.”

  “I, er, um . . .”

  “Relax. Chitchatting is fair game. But do it in the open. Just because you’re a bookkeeper and an accountant doesn’t preclude you from being a terrific sleuth.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Well, a terrific chitchatter, then. How’s that?”

  Augusta slammed her elbow onto the table and moaned. “Enough with the chitchatting. I’ve got forty plus pickleball appointments to make. Someone’s got to do the work around here.”

  “Message loud and clear,” was Nate’s response as he and I headed back to our respective offices.

  True to form, my mother called me at precisely ten fifteen. I was halfway through a granola bar and about to wash it down with coffee when Augusta told me to pick up the office phone.

  “I won’t keep you, Phee,” my mother said. “Shirley and Lucinda are here, and we’re on our way to get a bite to eat. The radio station canceled all its live broadcasts this week, but our show will go on as usual next Tuesday morning. They’re going to add security in the Men’s Club building. Posse members, I imagine. George Fowler called to let me know. Unless those volunteers are packing heat, Myrna and I aren’t going to be taking any chances.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Myrna bought us giant cans of wasp spray.”

  At least she didn’t find an old shotgun from God knows where. “Sounds like a plan. I’m glad you’re handling this in a calm and reflective manner.”