Grave Matters

She glanced at her watch; when she looked up, her smile was glowing but apologetic. 'I'm really sorry, it's getting late and I do have to go…. If you're looking into Vivian's death, why are we spending time on Derek?'

The detective shrugged elaborately. 'Forgive me. He was well-known around town. I was just curious.'

She fidgeted, but said, 'Well, I can understand that. He was a wonderful man; I miss him every day. He was a generous, shirt-off-his-back kind of guy…. Anything else?'

Warrick smiled, his body language casual, hands folded and loosely draped between his long legs. 'He was at UWN for almost two decades, I understand. Everybody loved him.'

'Yes, he was legendary in the drama department. Taught acting, directed the two plays every year-drama in the fall, musical in the spring. And, as always, he'll be in Hamlet this fall.'

'Pardon?' Vega said.

Warrick said, 'He plays Yorick.' He held his hand out as if cupping an imaginary skull. 'As in, 'Alas, poor Yorick'?'

Catherine said, 'His skull plays the part. It was in all the papers.'

The actor's widow smiled bravely and said, 'He wanted to stay active in the theater,' a quiver in her voice.

But no tears in her eyes,Catherine noted.

The widow went on 'As I say, he was a generous man. Though he was cremated, he'd arranged to donate certain organs to the University Medical Center…in addition to his skull to the UWN drama department.'

Though she knew the answer, Catherine asked, 'Sorry to ask, but…how did Derek die?'

Rene glanced at her watch again and rose. 'He had a heart attack…. I'm sorry, I really have to get to work.'

The others rose as well and followed her to the door. As she held it open for them, Warrick asked, 'Why no autopsy?'

'Pardon?'

'It's just unusual when a relatively young, healthy man passes.'

'Derek was young-ish, but he was a chainsmoker and, frankly, a drinker. He led a very full life.'

'Where did he end it?'

An edge of irritation tightened the lovely mouth as she stood holding the door very wide for them to leave.

But Rene Fairmont did take the time to answer Warrick's question: 'We were vacationing in Mexico when Derek died. His body was brought back here, where his skull was removed per his wishes.'

Warrick asked, 'You said he was an organ donor…?'

'Yes-the hospital in Mexico harvested them and handled their transfer to the University Medical Center. Otherwise, my husband's remains were cremated here at home, which had also been his wish.'

'Thanks,' Warrick said, and they stepped outside, the Fairmont woman, too.

'If you'll excuse me,' their reluctant hostess said, as she pulled the door shut and checked the lock.

Then she slipped quickly past them and trotted off to her car. She had backed out of the driveway and disappeared up the street before Vega, Catherine, and Warrick had even gotten to the Taurus.

As they watched her go around a corner and out of sight, Warrick said, 'Alas, poor Derek.'

Catherine smirked humorlessly. 'Something smells in the state of Denmark.'

Vega said, 'What does Denmark have to do with it?'

'Nothing,' Catherine said. 'But that's one cold woman, and I think she may be a better actor than her late husband.'

'What reason,' Warrick said, 'do we have to suspect her?'

'She's just on the radar,' Catherine said. 'But she's really, really bleeping….'

Vega said, 'I have a legitimate suspect to talk to…Vivian Elliot's neighbor, Mabel Hinton. Wanna come?'

Mabel Hinton was not home, but she wasn't difficult to find. The petite, plump white-haired woman in a white kitty-cat top and pink pastel pants was at Vivian Elliot's home, watering plants.

They sat at Vivian's kitchen table and talked to the woman. She had brown eyes that would have been lovely had they not been magnified and distorted by the thick lenses of tri-focals. She had insisted on their sharing the coffee she'd made for herself, as she tended her duties for Vivian around the house.

'Until an attorney or someone official tells me to stop,' the woman said, her voice rather high-pitched, almost child-like, 'I'm going to keep helping Vivian. I promised her I would.'

Catherine took in what had to be the unlikeliest murder suspect she'd ever encountered. This was a sweet old lady-and if it wasn't, the gal had acting skills that neither Derek nor Rene Fairmont could match.

'We need to clear something up, Mrs. Hinton,' Vega said, doggedly staying at his note-taking despite her fussing over getting him coffee, creamer, and sugar.

'Anything I can do to help Vivian's cause. Anything!'

'You told me yesterday that you hadn't visited Vivian the morning she passed away.'

'That's right.'

'Is there any possibility you might be mistaken?'

'I don't believe so.'

Catherine said, 'When did you last see Vivian?'

'The day before she passed,' Mabel said, unhesitatingly.

'Are you sure? Why, I can think it's Tuesday when it's really-'

'Young lady! I am not prone to senility. I was a schoolteacher and I have an orderly mind and an orderly way about me. I did not go to visit Vivian.'

Vega said, 'Someone signed your name who did visit her.'

'Do you have it?'

'Excuse me?'

'This signature of mine. That's supposed to be mine.'

'Actually, I haven't picked it up yet,' Vega said, embarrassed. 'It's with the guard at Sunny Day-'

'Well I suggest I give you a sample. And you can compare the two signatures and see if you, or your expert people, really think I signed my name…. Maybe that guard got confused. Which one is it? Fred?…He's such a ditz.'

Catherine smiled and sipped her coffee. She had never seen the competent Vega look so flummoxed.

Warrick said, 'What were you doing yesterday morning?'

She smiled sweetly at him. 'Do you mean, do I have an alibi?'

'Uh…' Warrick shook his head, laughed. 'Yeah, Mrs. Hinton. Do you have an alibi?'

'What time would that have been?'

Vega told her.

'Well, I know right where I was: home.'

'You live alone?'

'Yes, but I wasn't alone. I was getting my reflexology.'

Catherine said, 'Excuse me?'

'I take reflexology once a week. It's not just for your feet, you know-it's the science of nerve endings that keeps a person's whole body healthy. Why, if Vivian had listened to me…she could be stubborn, you know…she might well be with us today. My reflexologist would have gladly gone to Sunny Day and given her the treatments! They're only ten dollars.'

Warrick, frowning as he tried to grasp this, said, 'Is that a kind of…foot massage?'

'Young man, it's a scientific application of pressure. My reflexologist uses a machine and a rubber-tipped hammer pounds my little tootsies ever so efficiently. And look at me! I don't look a day over sixty-eight.'

'Indeed you don't,' Warrick said, eyes wide.

'I'll tell you what I'll do,' the little woman said, getting up and removing their empty coffee cups. 'I will write down my reflexologist's name and address and phone number…I have the e-mail address, too, if you need that…and I will give you an exemplar of my signature. And then you will go off and be detectives, and I will finish my duties here for Vivian.'

Minutes later, outside the Elliot home, Vega stood looking shell-shocked. 'She's not our killer,' he said.