Last Licks

One of the reasons that Will had been called back to Elmet County was the suspicion on the part of a lot of citizens that Nesbit was keeping the county safe—and himself reelected—by fudging the local crime statistics. Assaults became harassment, felonies fell to misdemeanors. Now, after years of a spotless record, Nesbit had a murder on his books thanks to Sunny. If Ollie hadn’t held his feet to the fire, the sheriff would probably have ignored Gardner Scatterwell’s passing, except maybe to press some flesh at the wake.

Still, Will wasn’t about to jump on Ollie’s bandwagon. “I understand Gardner Scatterwell was a stroke victim.”

Sunny nodded. “He was recovering from a stroke, staying at Bridgewater Hall for therapy.” She hesitated, remembering how easily Gardner had tired. “I wouldn’t say he was in the best of shape, but he looked all right when I left them yesterday evening, and Ollie says he was fine at lights-out. Then, somewhere between three and four a.m., Gardner died. We’ll have to get the gory details from Ollie. I didn’t want to ask him any questions with the doctors watching over my shoulder.”

“We’ll also have to try and persuade the family to go for an autopsy.” Will made a face. “That won’t be easy. Legally, this isn’t a suspicious death. I’ll bet the facility will issue a death certificate. Do you think we’ll get any help from any of the relatives?”

“As far as I know, the next of kin is a nephew, Alfred Scatterwell,” Sunny said. “Gardner kind of ragged on him as the family’s ‘all-purpose heir.’ Alfred is also a bit of a cheapskate. I heard him moaning about the expense of rehab at Bridgewater Hall, especially since he claimed the place had a high mortality rate. He wanted Gardner to move somewhere less pricey.”

Will’s expression didn’t get any more cheerful. “So he’s unlikely to go for the expense of a private autopsy, especially if it might delay his inheritance.”

Sunny shrugged and spread her hands in a gesture of hopelessness. “Them’s the breaks. But it might give us something in the way of a money motive.”

“I’d be happier with a little more in the way of facts. We don’t even have a clear idea of cause of death.” He frowned, thinking. “We’ll have to dig into Scatterwell’s life, see if we can find other people with motives, and then find out if they had the opportunity get to him at the facility.”

“I can tell you he was a ladies’ man,” Sunny offered. “The way I heard it, he fell in love with someone every six weeks or so.”

Will nodded. “He liked grand gestures but could change his mind pretty quickly. I know that from personal experience.”

“He got in some kind of trouble with the law?”

“No, this was about money. Remember? I mentioned meeting Scatterwell while doing some fund-raising for Saxon Academy.”

Saxon Academy had been the “snob school for boys” during Sunny’s high school days. If you went out with a guy from there, you were assured of a well-heeled date, at least. Not that Sunny had ever snagged a Saxon guy. Getting to know Will, she’d discovered that he’d gone to Saxon, a couple of years ahead of her. Practically speaking, he might as well have been on another world.

“Hey,” Sunny said with a grin, “they turned my old school into a community center. Too bad we didn’t have any well-heeled donors with school spirit.”

Instead of laughing, Will looked a little embarrassed, as if he had to explain things. “Your dad and some of the other folks in town thought it would be good to show that I was interested in the community.” He sighed. “Especially around Piney Brook.”

“That’s where the money is.” Now Sunny began to understand. “If you wanted to mount a campaign for sheriff, it would be good to know those folks, and maybe wave the old school flag to get some contributions.”

“You sound just like your dad and his political pals,” Will said, not making it sound like a compliment. “But it’s also true that the old school could use some help. They’re trying to go coed, and that means building a lot of extensions.”

“Like adding little girls’ rooms?” Sunny laughed.

“Try locker rooms and gym facilities,” Will replied. “Scatterwell was Class of ’66, way before my time, but he made a very generous pledge when I approached him—not enough to get a gym named after him, but the most I was able to persuade any of the Piney Brook folks to part with. Then, of course, he got sick and yanked it all back.”

“You can’t exactly blame him,” Sunny said. “Bridgewater Hall is a pretty expensive setup. I heard his nephew complain that they charged four hundred bucks a day to hold on to the bed when Gardner had to go back to the hospital.”

“I don’t begrudge the man spending money on his health.” Will shook his head. “But he might have explained instead of just never sending a check. I had people looking at me pretty funny for a while.”

“Are you sure you didn’t go sneaking into his room with a pillow?” Sunny asked.

“You’re right,” Will replied with mock seriousness. “Maybe I should recuse myself.”