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Well Read, Then Dead(112)

By: Terrie Farley Moran






Chapter Thirty-six ||||||||||||||||||||


            “Rowena wanted the commission for brokering the sale of Miss Delia’s island.” I didn’t need the deputies to tell me that much. “But why kill Delia?”

            Frank Anthony nodded. “According to Ms. Gustavsen, it was an accident. The trouble started when she convinced Tighe Kostos that a ‘local’ could seal the deal easier than he could. She wangled a hefty commission agreement out of him. Her visit to Delia Batson was, as she put it, ‘to try to talk some sense into her.’ When that didn’t work, Ms. Gustavsen offered to purchase the island, pretending she wanted it for herself. She actually planned to resell to Kostos. Make a fortune.”

            Ryan picked up the story. “Miss Delia was tougher than she looked. According to the confession, she refused politely, then not so politely. She showed Rowena the door, but Rowena was seeing dollar bills and grabbed Miss Delia by the arm. Gave her a rough shaking. Miss Delia fell, hit her head and was knocked unconscious. In a panic, Rowena grabbed a couch pillow and . . .” He looked at Miss Augusta, who sat stoically, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere along the far wall. “Well, that was the end.”

            “Y’all need more sweet tea.” Ophie made it sound more like a directive than a question. She went into the kitchen and came back with a full pitcher of tea with lemon slices floating on top and a plate of Robert Frost Apple and Blueberry Tartlets.

            “Why did Rowena try to kill me? I had nothing to do with selling or not selling the island.”

            “You are a snoopy busybody.” Frank Anthony chuckled when I glared at him. “Hey, that’s not me. That’s what Ms. Gustavsen called you, and if it’s any comfort, she swears she wasn’t trying to kill you, only wanted to scare you away. That’s why she locked you in the shed a few minutes before her meeting with Kostos. She was going to rescue you, but he was early. She kept telling us that she’s really not a killer. Miss Delia was an accident and you and Skully were . . . threats needing to be tempered.”

            “Threats?”

            “You were getting in the way of her potential commission on the sale of the island. She considered that a threat.”

            “What about Skully? What did he do?” Bridgy had a soft spot for him, and I have to say after our time together in the hospital, so did I.

            “When Rowena found out that he’d been seen lurking around Delia’s house, she was afraid he knew she’d been there the night Miss Delia . . . that last night. So she asked him to meet her at the Point on the pretense of paying him for some jewelry. He’s a trusting guy.” Ryan shook his head. “When he reached into his canoe to lift out his bag, she hit him in the head with an oar. With him bent over, she had gravity on her side and knocked him cold. The Gulf tide was coming in and she thought it would finish the job. She wanted it to look like an accident.”

            I shivered at the thought.

            Frank Anthony said that Skully was down but not out. Lacerations on his scalp but no fracture. “He’s a sailor and knows these waters. He’d automatically pulled his boat a few feet above the water line, so when he fell and the tide came in, it didn’t come high enough to drown him or drag him out into the Gulf.

            “Ms. Gustavsen had an insulin pen her sister left behind after a visit. It was sitting in her fridge and came right to mind as a solution to the Skully problem. As soon as she found out he was in the hospital, she tried to sneak into the room to stab insulin into his intravenous tube, but for a while his roomie had a private duty nurse 24-7. When Skully came out of the coma, he couldn’t remember what happened, so she thought she had time. But once you”—he pointed directly at me—“told her that Skully was Delia’s heir, not the nephews, she knew he’d be impossible to negotiate with, so he had to go.” He gave me a nod. “You put a stop to that.”

            “How is he? Does anyone know?” I looked at blank faces and a few shrugs of shoulders. “I called him a few days ago at the hospital but of course his phone was turned off. Or, more likely never turned on. And then yesterday when I called the nurses’ station to check on his condition, they said he’d signed himself out.”