Where Is Henderson? (Sam Darling mystery #5) Read online

  “Hello, again,” I said.

  “Hey,” Coronation responded, with that lyrical lilt Kentuckians have.

  She was writing rather frantically in a notebook on her lap, so I decided to look around. The room was nearly standing room only, and I didn’t see a man anywhere. I turned to ask about that again, but was stopped by a microphoned throat clearing.

  “Ladies,” the voice continued. “Most of you know me. My name is Sue Ann Henderson, and I am the regional director for Improve Your Life.” Everyone in the room applauded as if this woman were responsible for all the good things that had happened in their lives. I looked around again and saw gargantuan smiles plastered on every face but mine and Coronation’s, who was still writing.

  Regional Director? What’s that about?

  My thoughts stopped as I looked at the speaker again. She was holding her hands with the palms facing down, indicating we should stop clapping and for those who’d stood up to be seated.

  A standing ovation for a Regional Director? Maybe I really should have read the flyer in my office before throwing it away.

  An expectant hush replaced the applause as Sue Ann Henderson continued with her section of the program. As it turned out, her section was merely to introduce the star of the show… er, workshop.

  “It’s trite to say that the person I’m introducing needs no introduction, but today it’s true.” The applause started again with a small ripple started by Coronation.

  “So, that’s part of your job?” I asked her, while a grin took over my face.

  She shrugged her shoulders, but smiled back at me.

  The applause ripple died down quickly as Sue Ann spoke again. “Louise Shannon is…” The ripple resumed again, this time without Coronation starting it. Sue Ann waited with a smile on her face until the room quieted again. “Louise Shannon is…” Again, the applause took on a life of its own. Finally, her smile wavering a bit, Sue Ann tried a different tactic. “Our speaker is…” and it worked.

  She began again. “Our speaker is someone we all know and love.” My immediate thought was, I don’t know her and I certainly don’t love her.

  Sue Ann continued, “She’s the reason we are all here.” Applause. Suddenly I felt like I was at a political convention. Everyone clapping and standing at everything.

  “It’s going to be a long day,” I said aloud.

  “Yep,” said Coronation. “Yep.”

  Her response surprised me. While Sue Ann kept talking, I asked, “How long have you worked for Louise Shannon?”

  “A few weeks.”

  “Is this your first workshop?”

  “Yes, but don’t tell anyone. I want to appear ‘knowledgeable and at ease.’” The last words were recited as if she read them from her job description.

  “Are you from Henderson?” I asked.

  She only nodded because the deafening roar of a few hundred women would have drowned out any words she might have said.

  I must have missed the last part of Sue Ann’s introduction because when I tried to look at the stage all I saw were the backs of the attendees. Coronation and I were the only ones not standing. I quickly joined the throng, but Coronation stayed seated, still writing in her notebook. I guessed “standing ovations” were not on her job description.

  Even though I stood, I still couldn’t get a good look at the person on the stage. Being short certainly wasn’t an advantage. Finally the applause slowed and bit by bit the audience returned to seated positions.

  Sue Ann had already stepped off the stage and in her place stood a strikingly beautiful woman who resembled the picture on the flyer. Some people looked better in person. Louise Shannon was one of them. Her shoulder-length black hair looked like it had been plastered into submission, but at any moment could spring to life on its own. The effect was a good one, however.

  “Welcome,” she said. Her voice dripped like butter off the stage. Maybe butter mixed with honey, it was that sweet. I found myself hanging on that one word, waiting for the applause to stop, so I could hear more from her.

  “Welcome,” she said again when the applause subsided. Her smile held me, and coupled with her delicious voice, I had no choice but to hang onto the word. “I’m beyond pleased that you decided to join me today.”

  I shook my head so that I could think clearly. I hadn’t drunk any Kool-Aid, but there I was, mesmerized by this woman, and as I looked around I noticed that everyone else was as well. Everyone but Coronation Wilson. I leaned over and whispered, “Don’t you just love her voice?”

  She rolled her eyes, telling me there was a lot more to the story. I filed that away under “Interesting.”

  Telling myself, Just listen, don’t respond to what she says. Just listen, I was then able to snap out of the spell she’d cast. As I looked around, this time with fresh eyes, I saw the audience members enthralled by what was being said by the speaker. What hold did she have over them?

  I had tuned out so missed the rest of the welcome, but I’d been in workshops with charismatic speakers before. I knew how it worked, and was surprised I fell so easily under her influence.

  “As most of you know, I started Improve Your Life ten years ago when I discovered the healing powers of the water from Happy Acres. I had it tested for purity and it passed exceedingly well. I also had it bottled so others could benefit from the same water I’d been drinking for years. So I invite you to ‘take the waters.’ Well, don’t take it, you have to buy it.”

  A smattering of laughter followed. Louise’s own laughter lasted longer than her minions. I leaned over to Coronation again, “What’s that about? She selling water?”

  Again a nod from the scribbling assistant.

  Curious, I asked, “What are you writing?”

  She hesitated before answering quietly, “A book.”

  “Ooh, I love to read. Can we talk on a break or after the workshop?”

  She nodded again but looked around her as she did so.

  Hmmm. There’s an interesting story here, I’m sure.

  I tuned back in to Louise. She was expounding on the properties of the spring water. I thought I’d probably buy a bottle to see what the deal was.

  Then she said, “You can buy a gross for $288. If you sell each bottle for $5, as recommended, you will make a tidy profit. As you know, you can also recruit additional associates and they would buy their water through you. You will make $1 commission on every bottle that is sold through one of your associates. If your associates recruit other people you will receive 50 cents on each of their purchases, and so on.”

  Applause again. Faces basking in the glow of Louise’s charm. Once I’d realized I’d been swept under her spell, I was able to opt out again, and found myself as a very interested observer of this phenomenon. However, I was taken aback by the fact that Louise was basically running a pyramid scheme. I’d bet she was getting the water for free, had found a place to bottle it cheaply, and was making a fortune off of her foot soldiers, who were selling it to the masses.

  I wondered why this was advertised as a mental health seminar, and why I’d received a brochure in Quincy. Clearly these women already knew and loved Louise Shannon. It seemed I’d entered a Twilight Zone where I was the only one who wasn’t in on what was going on. Why would they let me in if I wasn’t “one of them”? Was this how they recruited members? Was the enthusiasm contagious?

  I pondered the possibility that there was an additive in the water which would make it more than “just” water.

  I poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher at my table without even thinking, and then realized the irony of what I’d done. No wonder I was feeling thirsty, after concentrating so hard on the property of water. Then I noticed that there were pitchers of water at every table. I turned to Coronation and said, “Is this water from Happy Acres too?”

  She shook her head from side to side as she continued writing.

  “Hmmm. Tap water?”

  She nodded.

  So my won
dering continued. Why would Louise Shannon serve tap water when the Happy Acres water was what she was selling?

  As if she read my mind, Coronation looked up from her writing and whispered, “She’s too cheap to serve ‘her’ water.” She looked around as if to make sure no one heard her but me.

  My curiosity was piqued but I decided to wait until later to talk about things with Coronation.

  By the end of the day I was exhausted. It was hard work trying to stay out from under Louise’s spell. I managed, but it took all the energy I had. And since she wasn’t able to exert a hypnotic hold on me, I saw her as she really was—a manipulative and scheming, unattractive woman. And I bet that Coronation would agree with me.

  On the way out I bought two bottles of water, at the member discount price of $4 each, but refused to sign up as an associate. The poor woman behind the counter seemed flabbergasted. “You don’t want to sign on? No one’s ever said that before. I don’t think I can give you the member discount. I have to check.”

  That solidified my hunch that I’d been the only non-associate in the room, except for Coronation, and she was staff.

  I felt pretty special—for a moment anyway. But while the woman was checking on pricing for non-associates I got scared. What if Louise came over and I couldn’t keep resisting her power?

  I threw down a few more dollars, took my two bottles of water, and exited as quickly as I could.

  EIGHT

  Outside I met Coronation and our conversation was short but informative. It turned out that her book was to be an exposé on Louise Shannon’s operation.

  “Intriguing,” I said, mouth agape. “What made you to want to take on this topic? And this charismatic woman?”

  Her eyes welled with tears. She immediately cleared them, and in a resolute voice said, “My grandmother swore by the water. She drank two or three bottles every day, and one day she said she didn’t need to take her medicine any longer because Louise said the water was all she needed.” She paused to take a breath. “No one could convince her otherwise, and for a while it seemed the water was actually working. Then suddenly she died. Heart failure. She hadn’t been taking her heart medicine for a month or so. That’s what did it.” Another pause, and she looked directly into my eyes. “I don’t want anyone else to lose a loved one because of that greedy woman.”

  I reached out to touch her arm gently. “I’m so sorry about your loss. No wonder you’re angry. And I think a book is a great idea. Much better than killing Shannon.”

  “What? I never even thought of murdering her.” Coronation shuddered as she spoke.

  “Sorry,” I said. I almost explained to her my fascination with murder, but caught myself. I did tell her why I was in Henderson, and that I was working with the police.

  “Okay. That makes a little more sense.”

  We said good-bye soon afterward because she had work to do for Louise Shannon. We exchanged contact information; I definitely wanted to follow up on the book.

  By then it was dinnertime, and I walked briskly back to the B&B. George was in the parlor reading a newspaper while glancing at his phone. Clancy was sleeping at his feet until she heard me. She greeted me by sitting in front of me and snorting her displeasure at my being gone all day. Then she quickly forgave me, as she usually did, and I crouched down to her level, giving her a hug.

  By then, George had joined us and he gave me a hug too, although a bit absentmindedly and even awkwardly, since he had to lean down to where I was still hugging Clancy.

  “What’s up?” I asked, knowing he was preoccupied with something.

  “Uh, I’m waiting for a phone call from Jonah Henderson. Remember… he’s the mayor’s younger brother?”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” I said, “but I did remember that. I also remember he’s in line to inherit since Cash is dead.” I walked into the parlor and sat on a beautiful old chair. “What did you find out today?”

  “Not as much as I’d hoped,” George answered. “Factory employees liked Cash personally for the most part, but most seemed to resent him a little. I mean, the rich kid starting out at a lower paying job, but knowing he’d own the place one day.”

  “So he was an okay guy, but they resented his position?”

  “Yeah. However, I don’t think anyone resented him enough to kill him. But I may be wrong.”

  “Why is Jonah calling you?” My curiosity, as always, was in full swing. And now that I was done with the workshop, I wanted back in on the murder investigation.

  “We didn’t have much time together today, so we’re going to meet before dinner.” He looked at me, then smiled. “Want to join us?”

  “Of course I want to join you. It’s the real reason I’m here.”

  “Oh,” George said, in mock disappointment, “I thought you were here because you wanted to spend more time with me.”

  “Of course, that’s the main reason,” I teased. “The murder investigation is just the icing on the proverbial cake.”

  I walked over to George and he stood up. In the middle of a decidedly delicious kiss, his phone rang.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I have to take this.”

  He put the phone to his ear. “Lansing,” he said, answering the phone as he always does, a police officer to the core. Then a pause before he said, “That will be fine. See you in a few minutes.”

  I didn’t have to ask what the other party said. George told me immediately. “That was Jonah Henderson. He’s going to stop by in a few minutes, and we can talk here.”

  “I’ll check with Nibby about us using the parlor.” I turned when I had a sudden thought. “Have you talked to Nibby yet about the piece of newspaper I found in the boxcar?”

  “Not yet. So please don’t mention it to him.”

  “Okay,” I said, very happy I hadn’t succumbed to impulsiveness earlier.

  I saw George nod as I left the room, Clancy at my side. “I have a lot to tell you about today, girl. It was interesting.”

  A few more steps and I was in the kitchen. Nibby was hard at work, kneading some dough into what I supposed would be a luscious concoction that would appear for breakfast tomorrow. After greeting me, he assured me we could use the parlor.

  “Just close the door. Others will know not to disturb you if the door is closed.”

  “Thanks bunches,” I said, then impulsively hugged him, moving in from the side since he was busy working.

  I relayed the message to George and we resumed kissing again. It was a pleasant way to pass the time as we waited. Unfortunately, Jonah arrived much too soon.

  After introductions, we sat down and George dove right in. At first I was surprised he didn’t offer Jonah Henderson something to drink, but then I reflected on the fact that this was a murder investigation and not a social event.

  Jonah had some of the same characteristics as his older brother Caleb, the same body shape—round, and the same air of grief surrounding him. And as with his brother, I felt the same sense of discomfort. My typical psychic vibes weren’t in full swing, but I was getting an odd feeling nonetheless. I also noticed that Clancy stayed close by my side. There was something about Jonah Henderson that she didn’t like, and she didn’t seem willing to take her eyes off him. I’d consult with her later.

  I glanced at my beloved and saw a smudge of lipstick near the left side of his mouth. Talk about distracting! I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. My internal dialogue went something like this. Would he be madder if I let it go and he found out later that he had lipstick on his face during the entire interview? Or would he be madder if I cleaned it off? What a conundrum. However, I operate on the theory that people would rather know things. I’ve told many a clueless stranger that her skirt was tucked into her pantyhose, there was toilet paper stuck to a shoe, or his fly was down. Because I knew I’d definitely want to know. And I decided to treat George the way I’d treat a total stranger.

  Jonah and George were still in the introductory stage of the interview, so I calmly
leaned over and wiped the edge of George’s mouth with my thumb. He gave me a look and I shrugged my shoulders with a half smile on my face.

  He didn’t say anything. Neither did Jonah.

  George asked a round of his usual questions, and I did my best to stay focused during the boring part. Then it got more interesting.

  “You say you had no hard feelings that the family business would go to your nephew Cash instead of to you?”

  Jonah nodded. “That’s right. I mean, I might have thought it wasn’t fair when I was younger and working much harder than my brother Caleb at the factory. But that was the way our father’s will was structured, which was something he made me aware of years ago. So I accepted the fact that there was nothing I could do about it. I was destined to be second fiddle at the company and that was that.”

  “Well, there was something you could do about it…” George said, and let the rest of the sentence trail off.

  “You mean kill Cash before he had an heir?” Jonah’s voice started off conversationally, but by the end of the sentence he was screaming.

  Hmmm, short fuse, I noted to myself. I’ll have to file that away.

  “No need to yell, Henderson,” George said with a warning tone.

  Jonah calmed as quickly as he had escalated.

  “Sorry. The very idea that I’d kill my nephew is absurd. Ridiculous. Outlandish.”

  Sometimes people give themselves away by saying too much. Why didn’t he just stop at absurd?

  After a few more clarifying questions, George let Jonah go. Jonah shook both our hands, thanked us for investigating, and left quietly.

  “That was weird,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He went from cold to hot to cold so quickly, and then overdid the excusing of it. I think he’s involved.”

  “Those your only reasons?” George asked.

  “You know what the other reason is…” I trailed off, tired of talking about my vibes. “And Clancy didn’t like him either, did you girl?” I finished by looking at her as I petted her head. She validated my statement and I interpreted for George.