He set his glass of lemonade down. “And I want you to know how so very sad I was when she passed. She was a wonderful person, she really was. A good friend to me. Just very caring. And when something needed to be done in the community, you could always count on Betsy to pitch in. And Lloyd too when he was alive.”
“That was how she was wired. Very can-do,” replied Puller.
“She told me a lot about your father, her brother. A three-star. Army legend.”
Puller nodded. “Yeah.” He never liked to talk about his father. “Do you know whether she had a lawyer?”
“Yes, same one I used. His name is Griffin Mason. Everyone calls him Grif. He’s an excellent attorney.”
“Does he handle wills?”
“Every lawyer in Florida handles trusts and estate work,” said Cookie. “Sort of their bread and butter, what with the elderly population.” “You have his contact info?”
Cookie opened the drawer of a built-in desk next to the refrigerator, drew out a business card, and handed it to him.
Puller eyed it briefly and slipped it into his pocket. “So you said you found her body? Can you run me through the details on that?”
Cookie sat back and his plump face assumed a sad expression. Puller could even see tears clustering in the corners of his eyes.
“I don’t get up that early. I’m more of a night owl. And at age seventy-nine, four or five hours a night are plenty for me. At some point down the road I’ll have a lot longer time to sleep. Anyway, I have a little morning routine. I let Sadie out in the backyard while I sit on the back deck and drink my first cup of coffee and read the newspaper. I still get the actual paper, most of the old folks around here do. I’m online a lot and consider myself pretty tech-sawy for an old fart, but I still like to hold the news, as it were.”
“What time was that?”
“About eleven or so. This was several days ago now, you understand. So I was sitting on my deck and I noticed that Betsy’s back door was open. From the deck I could see it over my fence- line. I thought that was odd because as a rule Betsy didn’t really get going until around noon or so. Her osteoporosis had done a real number on her spine. It was getting difficult for her to even get around with her walker. And I knew it was difficult for her to get out of bed.”
“I can see that,” replied Puller. “Did she have a caregiver?”
“Yes. Jane Ryon, lovely girl. She would come three days a week, starting around nine in the morning. She would do some tidying up around the house and then help Betsy get up, get her clothes on, stuff like that.”
“Why only three days a week?”
“Betsy wanted to retain her independence, I guess. And a full-time caregiver isn’t cheap. And Medicare really doesn’t cover that unless you’re in far worse shape than Betsy was, and even then they don’t cover the entire expense. Betsy never seemed to be hurting for money, but folks of our generation, we’re frugal. Jane also helps me as well. Twice a week.”
“You look pretty independent.”
“She runs errands, takes care of Sadie when I’m gone. She’s a great physical therapist and all those years of baking left me a permanent pretzel, particularly in my hands.”
“You have her contact info?”
Cookie presented him with another business card. “I have hundreds of them. People in Florida pass them out like candy. The elderly are a service industry’s best customers. We all have stuff that we can’t do ourselves anymore, but that still needs doing.”
“Okay, so back to that morning?”
“I walked to the fence between our properties and called out her name. I didn’t get an answer, so I left my backyard, walked over, and knocked on her front door. I didn’t expect her to get up and race to the door if she was in bed, but I thought maybe she might call out. Her bedroom is on the first floor.”
“I know,” said Puller. “Go on.”
“Well, there was no answer at the front door, so I decided to go into her backyard and get into the house that way. I was hoping nothing had happened to her, but in our neighborhood we’ve had people die before and they haven’t been found for some time. At our ages, your ticker can just stop and down you go.”
“I guess that’s true,” said Puller. He kept his gaze on the man, willing him to pick up the pace and get to what he really needed to know.
“I managed to open the gate latch and stepped into the backyard. I was looking at the door as I came around the corner of the house. I almost didn’t look in the direction of her little fountain pool, but luckily I did. I couldn’t see it from where my deck is situated, you see. But now I could.”
Puller stopped him there. “Okay, if you could just take it one step at a time. Tell me everything you saw, smelled, heard.”
Puller had taken out a notebook and Cookie looked at it anxiously. “The police told me it was an accident.”
“The police might be right. Then again, they might be wrong.”
“So you came down to investigate?”
“I came down to see my aunt. When I found out she was dead, I paid my respects. Then I switched to investigation mode to make sure she didn’t leave this world against her wishes.”
Cookie gave a little shudder and continued. “I saw her lying in the fountain pool. It’s only about two feet deep. You’d think no one could drown in it. But she was facedown, her entire head was underwater.”
“Which way was she facing?”
“Her head was pointed toward the house.” “Arms outstretched or by her side?”
Cookie considered this for a few moments, obviously trying to picture the scene in his mind. “Right arm outstretched and over top of the stone surround. Her left arm was by her side.” “Her legs?”
“Splayed.”
“Her walker?”
“On the ground on the right side of the pool.” “What did you do next?”
“I ran over to her. At that point I didn’t know if she was dead or alive. I kicked off my sandals and walked directly into the water. I grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her head out of the water.”
Puller thought about this. Cookie had wrecked the crime scene. He had to do it, because like he’d said, he didn’t know if Betsy was still alive. Crime scenes could be legitimately tainted by first responders trying to save lives. That trumped even preserving evidence. In this case, unfortunately, it had been for naught.
“But she wasn’t?”
Cookie shook his head. “I’ve seen a few dead people in my life. Not just at funerals and such. Smoke inhalation killed my little sister over fifty years ago. One of my best friends drowned in a pond when we were teenagers. Betsy’s face was deathly white. Her eyes were open, her mouth hung loosely. There was no pulse, no sign of life.” “Foam around the mouth?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Were her limbs stiff or supple?”
“They seemed a little stiff.”
“But just a little?”
“Yes.”
“Upper arms stiff or supple?”
“Stiff. But her hands seemed normal, if cold.” “What did you do then?”
“I set her back down exactly as I had found her. I watch a lot of
“Landry and Hooper?”
“Yes, that’s right. How did you know that?” “Long story. Were you around when they went over the scene?”
“No. They took my statement and then asked me to go back to my house, and to stay there in case they had any other questions. Other police cars showed up and then I saw a woman with a medical bag drive up, get out, and go into the backyard.”
