The Strange Situation at Emlee: A Sally Nimitz Mystery (Book 3)

By MaryJo Dawson

The word is out; Sally Nimitz is very good at solving a mystery. Her third escapade begins when Sally is approached by a friend and co-worker, Emma Shultz. There are puzzling events taking place at the southern family estate of Emlee, home to the Bradshaw sisters, Emma's mother and maiden aunt. The two older ladies are being pressured to move so Emlee can be sold. When their mother died five years earlier, her will stipulated they could live out their lives at
the family home, so why does their nephew want them to move now? When the suggestion is spurned, a beloved cat disappears, a snake is found in the
kitchen, and the house is broken into. Would Sally consider going to Emlee to see what's behind all this?
Sally asks for the advice of her two comrades, Anne Carey and George Thomas, before making a decision. A visit to Emlee in February by strangers would be
looked upon with suspicion by the Bradshaw family, so they devise a plan where Anne, a retired educator, poses as an old friend from Emma's mother's past.
Sally makes her presence look unpretentious by volunteering to accompany the elderly lady.
The two of them soon find family ill-will and long kept family secrets that are starting to surface. Two days after their arrival an unsavory neighbor is shot to death. He has no connection to the well-respected Bradshaws—or does he?
With a gift of observation, and a knack for asking the right questions, Sally begins to find some amazing answers, answers that go back two generations.
Was it a member of the family who had him killed? Even more ominous, after the shooting there are sudden assurances the ladies don't have to move after all and that there will be no more trouble.
Once again Sally and her two assistants fine the answers, plus an answer or two they weren't looking for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elderberry Press
• Release date: May 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301999941

MaryJo Dawson

MaryJo Dawson had a long and satisfying career as a nurse, most of it specialized in Obstetrics. She's lived in several states and one country abroad, but has settled happily in a small town in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains with her husband, Bill.Always a lover of mysteries, biographies, and history, but especially fond of the British mystery authors of the mid-twentieth century, she set out to write a mystery series of her own using these as her role models. There are currently five Sally Nimitz mysteries in print, the latest released in June of 2015. The books reflect the author's own enjoyment of a good story based in solid values, yet realistic, and fun.When not pondering a new adventure for Sally, there is time for family, friends, flowers, hikes, and the used bookstore.

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The Strange Situation at Emlee: A Sally Nimitz Mystery (Book 3)

Copyright ©2013 MaryJo Dawson

Smashwords Edition

To my husband, Bill, who not only encourages me to write,

but is invaluable with suggestions and computer expertise.

Thanks to Rebecca Stroud for her valuable assistance with editing.

Cover photo taken by Mark Hamilton.

The Sally Nimitz Mystery Series

The Death of Amelia Marsh: A Sally Nimitz Mystery (Book 1)

The Disappearance of Douglas White: A Sally Nimitz Mystery (Book 2)

The Strange Situation at Emlee: A Sally Nimitz Mystery (Book 3)

Chapter One

My third case began at a wedding shower. This was when I began to think of my escapades as cases. The first time I looked into a puzzling situation it was the death of my neighbor, Amelia Marsh. It just happened. The second time, a law enforcement officer I came to know because of Amelia’s death asked me to look into a personal problem he had. When that was over I thought my snooping around was over, too. Not so.

Five months later on a cold Sunday in January, my friend, Emma Schultz, hosted a wedding shower for one of our co-workers. I liked Berniece, so although my habit is to avoid these affairs, I went. The food was good, we only played one of those silly games, and Berniece was so happy you couldn’t help but want her to live happily ever after. Emma and I never married again. Like us, Berniece was well over forty but she was willing to give wedded bliss another chance. I knew the groom slightly and thought she had made a good choice. My only marriage ended after twenty-seven years with an altercation between a motor vehicle and a train on a slippery road late at night. Maybe because our union had been such a happy one, I didn’t dare to try again. Emma had been divorced for years. She emphatically denied any interest in another go, but like myself, she didn’t object to other people doing it.

As the guests were leaving, Emma volunteered me to help her with the cleaning up and declined other offers of assistance.

It will get done faster if there are more of us, I pointed out, slightly piqued.

I want to talk to you privately, Emma explained.

Since Emma found it hard to talk and work at the same time, yours truly ended up doing the bulk of the work but I must admit she had an interesting tale to tell. I left her about six-thirty, making no promises. I went home and considered her story, and then I called the two people who could be counted on to give me a good perspective.

At eight o’clock that evening Anne Carey and George Thomas were sitting in my living room. Neither one of them was tied up doing anything special so when I mentioned a friend with a little problem and needing some input, they didn’t have to be asked twice. Both of them had helped me before. Both of them shamelessly enjoyed it, even when the going got a little rough.

After we were comfortably settled, warm drinks at hand, I began to explain.

It turns out Emma’s family background is very southern. Her parents moved to Detroit from Mississippi after the Second World War. There isn’t any evidence of the genteel southern background in Emma herself, but it sounds like her mother is still very much the southern lady. Her name is Emmaline Adams. When she was widowed about twenty years ago, she went back to the family place in rural Mississippi. Her three children were all married by then and had families of their own. All of them live north of the Mason-Dixon line and go down south for occasional visits. Are you getting the picture so far?

Clear as a bell, dear, Anne assured me patiently, sweetly. I am sure we need the background.

You do, I said firmly. It is always a pleasure to tell Anne things. She is a wonderful listener. George and I have both become extremely fond of this elderly lady. She and I knew each other only slightly and George had never met her before her dear friend, Amelia Marsh, was murdered.

I glanced at George, who nodded his agreement. Go on, Sally. He is used to my ways. He’s known me for years, long before I was widowed. In fact, George had been my husband Michael’s best friend… Now he’s one of mine.

Okay. Emma says there is something very strange going on at Emlee. That’s the name of the family estate. It seems her mother’s family was very well to do, very prestigious in their day. They were prominent people in the county, and to some extent still are. Her mother, Emmaline, and all of the girls in the family have first names with em or le in them. That tradition started with great-grandfather Bradshaw. Family history has it he was very fond of his girls, but less so of his sons. I throw that in as an interesting sideline. Are you both still with me?

Anne nodded again. George took a swig of coffee from his mug and grimaced. If there is something strange going on it wouldn’t be surprising. It sounds like a strange family.

I grinned at him. Strange to you, perhaps. These people are from another culture. Anyway, Emmaline Bradshaw Adams lives at Emlee with her sister, Leena. I paused as George groaned. I told you, something with em or something with le", almost all of them. Leena is the youngest and has never married. Due to a difficult birth, or so the story goes, she’s rather child-like. Emma says she has the mentality of a ten-year-old, but a nice one. The two old ladies get along fine, but there are puzzling undercurrents of other family troubles that are starting to surface and starting to concern Emma.

I shifted in my seat, took a sip of my own coffee, and went on. There is a nephew, Bradley, who inherits the house after his aunties are gone. In the past few weeks he has been getting more persistent in wanting them gone before their demise. He has offered to help them move into town, a nice little apartment, et cetera, et cetera.

But they don’t want to go, Anne stated the obvious. I was ready to give up the family homestead with its drafty halls, expensive upkeep, and huge driveway to plow in the winter, although it was very nice of my father to leave it to me. My nephew and his wife bought it. They love it, and I love my condominium. A very nice arrangement in the end, but of course, many elderly people hate to give up the family place.

Right. And this sounds like a southern antebellum home that is showing signs of needing work. The ladies don’t seem to mind. But Bradley is resisting any suggestions to put money into repairs. Instead he wants them to move and now it looks like he is getting nasty about it.

What’s the evidence? This question came from George. I mean, the evidence Bradley is getting nasty.

A leaky ceiling he won’t let them repair, the disappearance of one of Leena’s cats, and a snake on the back porch.

Not nice, George concurred. If the nephew is behind it. How do they know?

I asked Emma that. She says there were no such problems before December. That’s when her mother and aunt were paid a visit by Bradley who stated bluntly it was time for them to go. Apparently there was quite a row. Other family members were there; one stood up for Bradley, the others for the aunts. Leena became hysterical. Emma says the will clearly states they can stay until they die, so legally, Bradley has no case. But he can make life unpleasant.

Sounds like a jerk, George observed the obvious.

He certainly does, Anne agreed. But sadly, these situations happen all the time. Why do you think your friend told you about this?

There are two reasons. First of all, she found out about our trip to Wisconsin last summer. There was a tea to benefit the police department over the holidays and Emma was invited. She sat next to Deborah White. When Deborah found out Emma was a nurse, one thing led to another and Deborah told her about our adventure because of her brother-in-law.

Anne looked reproachful. I wonder if the good detective knows his wife is so free with this Chapter of family history.

I wondered about that, but Deborah saw no need for secrecy. Emma’s memory was jogged after listening to that story. She suspected I had something to do with winding up Amelia’s murder, too. We didn’t get into that, but that’s why she came to me.

George was helping himself to a refill. What’s the second reason? he called from the kitchen.

She wants me to go to Mississippi, stay at Emlee, and find out why Bradley wants the aunties out of the house.

Now wait a minute, George objected as he returned to his seat. Why all the hoopla? What’s wrong with your friend having a talk with her cousin and asking him? If he doesn’t want to tell her, why doesn’t she or someone else in the family take care of this? Why get you into it?

Great minds think alike, I responded mildly. I asked her that. She says I don’t understand the southern way of things. Bradley would only say the aunties were exaggerating, that he is only thinking of their welfare, and give other plausible excuses for what’s happening. He has a law degree, although he doesn’t practice. And, Emma says, there is more to it than this. Over the years her mother’s once happy family has disintegrated. It began while Emmaline lived up north. She has never been able to get to the bottom of it, and doesn’t think Leena knows why either. Now she suspects the bad feelings have something to do with why their nephew is so keen to have the ladies gone.

I stopped talking and eyed my guests for their responses.

Anne took the lead. I do think, Sally, it would be quite a feat for you to spend a few days with the ladies at Emlee and get to the bottom of this. In the other two situations people were happy to speak with you. This may not be the case here. You would be considered an outsider, and distrusted.

George nodded in approval with Anne’s summation and added, This still sounds like something the family should handle.

It does to me too. So, we are all in agreement, I replied. "But what bothers me is Emma. You don’t know her. She is not the sort to get dramatic. She talks to her mother on the telephone every Sunday and assures me the lady is not getting confused. There is something about the things her mother is telling her lately, and maybe the way she is telling it, that has Emma worried. She says if this situation doesn’t improve her brother will get wind of it and force her mother to leave. That would leave Leena at the mercy of whoever would take her in since she can’t live alone, and that would make them both miserable.

Am I being too callous in thinking the two ladies should move into an apartment and make the best of it? George asked bluntly.

Perhaps, I allowed. We don’t understand this mentality, as Anne has already said. Some people would rather die than leave the home they’ve known all of their lives.

And some people don’t like being pushed around, Anne added with asperity. Even when they get old. She had a point.

The three of us talked about the Bradshaw dilemma for another half an hour. In the end, my friends stuck to their original opinion that a trip to Emlee was probably a waste of my time, but if I wanted to go they saw nothing wrong with it. None of us thought Bradley or any other family member was a serious threat to me.

It is usually very cool and damp in that part of the country this time of year, Anne informed me as she put on her coat and gloves. But still warmer than the weather we’re having here. Maybe you are curious enough to go and would enjoy the change.

Sorry if we weren’t much help, George added, as he came back inside after going out to start his truck. He turned to Anne. I’ll give you a lift, Miss Carey. No argument. You don’t have far to walk but there’s a nasty wind out there.

His tone did not allow for argument but the elderly lady did not try. She smiled at him prettily and I smothered a grin. George’s persona with Anne Carey was a mix of bashful and admiration. Although they had known each other for months now, he wasn’t comfortable calling her Anne. He had never been one of her students but I wondered if she reminded him of a teacher he admired. Someday I would ask him.

You were helpful, I assured them both. Thank you for coming on short notice.

We both enjoyed it, Anne returned smoothly. Rather like old times, don’t you think so, George?

George did think so. I promised to let them know what I decided.

• • •

I decided not to go to Mississippi. Emma’s schedule did not coincide with mine, so we were not going to see each other at the hospital for over a week. Not wanting her to wait that long for an answer, I called her on Wednesday afternoon. With diplomatic finesse I explained my conclusions, why I didn’t think I could help, and urged her to explore the situation further on her own.

No one will trust me, Emma. You know your family far better than I do. You must have an ally or two down there.

Emma thanked me and said she understood. Three weeks later I drove down to Emlee. Miss Carey went with me.

Chapter Two

The drive would take between six and seven hours with cold but clear weather all the way so we opted to go by private vehicle and took my car. Not for the first time, I arranged my work schedule to give me a block of free time. I had eleven days. Since I worked twelve-hour shifts two days a week, after shuffling my schedule around, I had to take only one day of leave. While clearing my agenda the previous summer to go north, there hadn’t been much time to make the arrangements. This time it was easier and Emma took one of my shifts herself.

This would be the first time I would have a companion when traveling in the interest of obtaining information. My guess was Miss Carey would be good company and she was. She did not argue when I insisted on doing all the driving. It’s no problem letting someone else behind the wheel of my car but Anne’s driving left a little to be desired. She did not want the radio on constantly nor did she feel the need to keep up endless conversation, also earning extra brownie points in my book. For a few hours I could put up with an annoying passenger but there was no need.

When we did converse, it was light chatter such as comments on the countryside we were driving through at the time. Only when we took a break in a small town in Kentucky for lunch did we have a serious discussion about why we were heading south. We had been over the groundwork several times but we weren’t overconfident.

I must say, Anne started, I have over seven decades behind me and this is my first time to play a part. There is deception in it, but it is for a good cause.

Yes. My concern is not for you keeping up your end but for Emma’s mother being able to do the same. We are taking a risk there.

I got a good feeling about it speaking to her on the telephone, my partner in the investigation said reassuringly. Since I know Detroit a little, taking the role of an old neighbor of Emmaline Bradshaw Adams when she lived there wasn’t as difficult as you might think it would be. Miss Carey paused as our lunch was served, absently pushing her salt-and-pepper hair out of her right eye and reinserting a bobby pin. I had seen her do that countless times. Anne was lean and tall, with a thin nose and generous mouth. She was quick to smile and her faded blue eyes were kindly and inquisitive. She seemed to enjoy excellent health and it was easy to see her living an active lifestyle into her nineties.

None of the family down there knows anything about Detroit, and not very much about the details of Mrs. Adams’ life the thirty years she was away, I was happy to agree. If I didn’t think we have every chance of pulling this off we wouldn’t be going.

Anne smiled. Emmaline-and you know I must practice calling her that and not Mrs. Adams-says only Leena and their mother ever met Jane, and that was years ago. When we get to Emlee, she and I will talk some more privately so I can learn more about Emmaline’s friend and the things they shared.

I munched on my bread stick. You haven’t said. Are you still going to be Anne, or is your name changing?

Oh, thank you for reminding me, dear! Anne looked a trifle flustered. I almost forgot! I am going to be Jane. That is the name of one of my sisters, as you may remember, so I think that will work. It is possible someone will recall my name is supposed to be Jane. Emmaline has talked about her and they used to correspond regularly.

Then I will start calling you Jane, beginning now, I decided. We still have two hours before we arrive for me to practice. But if I forget, we’ll use the excuse you remind me very much of an aunt of mine whose name is Anne.

Miss Carey approved. My last name is still Carey. We decided no one would be the wiser about that as we won’t be using it very often. I think we are going to be good at this, don’t you?

I really hope so, I answered devoutly.

And we must remember, Anne assumed her best school teacher attitude, if this doesn’t work out, or if one of the family figures out we aren’t quite who we say we are, it will only mean a little bit of embarrassment. No harm done.

I really hope so, I repeated.

All of this subterfuge began the week after I had put an end to any idea of going to Emlee. Emma and I were both scheduled to work Thursday night, eight days after I turned down Emma’s proposal. The first hours of the shift were hectic. Emma was taking care of the delivered mothers and I was assigned to two ladies being observed overnight for threatened pre-term labor. One of the two had to be transferred to a higher level of care facility which meant a couple of hours of non-stop work for me. By the time she was safely stowed aboard a transport helicopter, the paperwork was done, and I was sure my other patient was stable and resting comfortably, it was almost midnight. Meanwhile, Emma had been recovering a fresh delivery and attending to the usual evening duties.

We connected purely by chance in the staff lounge, both of us able to break away about the same time. As we relaxed and shared our evening experiences, I noticed Emma looked haggard. Her hair was not fixed quite as meticulously as usual and there were dark circles under her eyes.

Are you okay? I asked at an opportune moment. You don’t look well.

Thanks, she said tartly.

That was reassuring; same old Emma.

She relented. Sorry. I haven’t slept well lately. Then I finally dozed off about three this afternoon and overslept. I hate not having plenty of time to get ready for work.

I happened to know that Emma usually slept like the proverbial log. She bragged about it. No midlife insomnia for her she said proudly, as though she found those who had such problems lacking in self-control.

The next words out of my mouth, well meaning and out-of-hand, changed my life for the next several weeks. Something on your mind?

Instead of giving me an immediate answer she took a couple of bites of her sandwich. I munched my own food and guessed she was still having family issues so it was understandable if she didn’t want to talk about it.

You may not want to hear any more about my family problems, Emma said at that moment. Can’t say that I blame you.

I don’t mind listening, I said politely. We still have a few minutes. Can you condense it for now?

She tried to, but she was deep into the information when we had to get back to our patients. That left me very interested and wanting to hear the rest. At the end of our shift as we were changing out of our scrubs, I asked if she wanted to finish telling me about it with breakfast before bed, but Emma suggested meeting after we both got some sleep instead.

A better idea, I admitted. We’ll both be in better shape after some rest. How about meeting me at The Griddle about two? My treat, I insist.

So by late that Friday afternoon, I had been updated on the events at Emlee and how everything had changed…for the worse.

Emmaline had spoken with her daughter per usual on the previous Sunday afternoon. Because of the wedding shower, they had not conversed for two weeks but-to Emma’s relief-everything seemed calm and uneventful. There had been no visits from the cajoling nephew, no missing kitties, and no snakes. On Tuesday Emmaline called back.

Mama doesn’t like to call any day but Sunday, Emma emphasized to show just how serious things were getting. Not even when Leena sprained her ankle or when Grandma was dying. She doesn’t want the extra charges.

Right then I wondered what could top Grandma dying, but supposed the long decline of a very elderly lady could be considered an ordinary life event.

What had sparked panic and the need for advice was someone going through the house while the Bradshaw sisters were out.

Mama and Leena were invited to Aunt Vivian’s for late afternoon tea, Emma explained. She’s the oldest brother’s widow, Bradley and Percy’s mother. They were gone a couple of hours and didn’t notice anything unusual when they got home, not at first. But Maxie the cat had been left outside, and while they were fixing a sandwich, he showed up in the kitchen neat as you please. He had been asleep in the laundry room and they both knew someone had to let him in.

Emma managed to polish off her omelet and give me a detailed account at the same time.

That didn’t worry them too much, although it doesn’t happen too often. Someone could have come by, noticed they weren’t there but taken pity on the cat. The outside key isn’t very hard to find. But while locking up the house and getting ready for bed, Mama knew someone had been looking around. There was paperwork out of order on her desk, shoes in a closet not put back in place, things like that. Leena didn’t seem to notice and Mama didn’t tell her, didn’t want to upset her.

But it upset your mother enough to call you on a Tuesday?

There’s more. First, by Monday morning she realized my grandmother’s diary and my grandfather’s old strongbox were missing. Sally, I have to wonder if Bradley didn’t put his mother up to giving that invitation so he could raid the house and know they wouldn’t show up. How many thieves would take family items instead of valuables? On a Sunday afternoon there wouldn’t be much chance of anyone else stopping by, not without an invitation. If Mama thought of that she didn’t say. And she might not have, because on Monday morning Leena found her other kitty dead. I told you one of Leena’s cats had already disappeared?

You did, I verified.

She had three. There’s only one left now, Maxie. The other one, a spayed female named Mona, was found dead in her box Monday. Her box is in Leena’s room; that’s where Mona slept. Maxie stays downstairs. Because she knew someone had been in the house uninvited, Mama had the dead cat taken to the vet and examined. The cat was poisoned. The foolish girl at the desk called Tuesday and forgot she was only supposed to talk to Mama, so she gave the report to Leena.

Not good, huh? I asked sympathetically.

Awful, Emma jabbed a lonely mushroom on her plate with emphasis. "Leena was beside herself. I told you, she’s like a little girl