Home Is Where the Body Is: CD Grimes PI, #10

By C. D. Moulton

Cliff Ashton in Nicely is charged with murder. CD goes back there to straighten out the mess. He uncovers a national theft ring, but what is so important that a few hundred million is a secondary business? CD gets to use his favorite "Noigel from Belize" disguise.

Critic comment
The story was good and the flow was good, but I never knew what CD was saying.
– GGL ***1/2

I found this one to be rather good. It took a moment to get to understand what "Noigel" was saying, but was much easier as I proceeded. Moulton sneaks in little political viewpoints and his style leaves something to be desired. He could leave out the orchids, but that's not much of the work.
Having said that, it's still a very good read.
– Ann G. ***½

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. D. Moulton
• Release date: Jul 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201882563

Book preview

Prologue

There are those times you want to go out for a night on the town and there are those times you don't. That's not generally any kind of problem around here. Alma, my gorgeous wife, usually wants to go when I do – so we leave the three brats (That's all! I swear!) with Lou and Paulo and go. When they want to go anywhere they leave their own two kids with us and go.

Lou and Paulo Sanchez are our housekeeper and gardener, but they're also our close friends. They take care of the Englewood place for Alma and me (I'm CD Grimes, private detective and beach bum) while we're on one of our frequent excursions or when we're staying at the Bonita Springs place or when we're at the place in Nicely (God, I hate that name!) to check on the estate.

You see, since I inherited the Crane fortune and all those companies I can afford to do pretty much what I like, when I like. It's like Pop (Who just left with Mom to go back to Nicely after staying here for two weeks) says about a TV show he saw when he was a kid. It was a show called What's My Line? that was really popular then. The guests had all claimed to be the guy who owns Mad Magazine and Peggy Cass, one of the panelists, had selected one of the two well-dressed guests, saying the third guest looked like a bum and no one who made that much money would dress like that.

He was the one, of course. He said something like, Miss Cass, when you make as much money as I do you can dress anyway you please!

That's me. No matter how hard I try to get rid of that Crane crap and no matter how much I try to give away all the money, Tony Jacobi, my manager at the Sarasota plant, says I make about a million and a half dollars a day!

Life can be cruel. I refuse to allow that kind of stupid crap to interfere with anything important in my life, which is Alma, Cedric David Grimes (4 yrs.), Scott McDade Grimes, (2 yrs.) and Bonnie Alma Grimes (9 months). Alma said she named her with those initials so she'd be prepared to be a bag lady when she was older and on the streets. Alma has a weird sense of humor.

Our closest friends at the place are Lou and Paulo and Jim Barrow, our boatman.

Lou and Paulo have Paul Luis and Alma Ann. Jim is a bachelor, which he describes as a man with no kids – to speak of.

So we all have weird senses of humor.

Tony Jacobi's also a close friend as well as an employee. He helps me with the detective business quite often, as does Jim. Those machines and all those security connections with the government make information on a lot of things very easy to get hold of.

There's a kid we call JK – for John Kiley – who works at the plant in the computer section who's a genius with coms. He helps in the business since my last case.

Len Stewart, local sheriff here and good friend, helps me and I help him. Cal Jones, FHP, and I work together a lot. Cal, his wife, Wilma, and their daughter, Allie, are among our closest friends, too.

Mike Nelson and Shirley Bock who own the private airport near Sarasota where I keep the jet and the Cessna help at times and are among our close circle.

Cliff Ashton 3, who I was raised with, takes care of the PI agency branch and the estate I was born and raised on in Nicely, but he has his cases and I have mine. We're a few hundred miles apart so we don't get to work together anymore.

I seem to be off on some kind of tangent. What I'm trying to say is the regular bunch was at the Englewood place and Mom and Pop had just gone back home. I wanted to drive over to Giorgio's for dinner, then to go to the Asolo Theater, up in Sarasota, but Alma wanted to pack up and go down to the Bonita Springs place in the morning. I didn't see the problem. We could do both.

But I have to get those Angulocastes repotted tonight or I can't leave early tomorrow! she said – like that should explain everything.

We have greenhouses full of orchids in all of our places. The famous Sheila Grimes was my grandmother and I inherited her and Gramp's love of the things. Most of our frequent trips were to buy or gather orchids somewhere or to go to a show.

They can wait! They're not going to suffer, even if you leave them for a whole year!

If I let them go, then I have to put off the Tetrakeria and Osmentara cross, she explained as though I were a dull two year old. "They're supposed to bloom in a couple of months.  I can cross one of them with that Cattleyopsis on Diacrium Purple Dawn thing you made.

What name did you finally  decide on for the new genus? Cattleyopsium or Diacopsis? Both sound silly!

I'm trying for Diacopsis. Why are you so interested in crossing them? You don't even know what the Osmentara will look like.

Osmentara? I thought Osmenkeria, she said with her lopsided grin. I'm going to cross the result with my Leptella Weirdo (I told you she has a strange sense of humor. She actually named the thing that!) I'm going to try all the Fergusonaras on all the Domindesmias again. If I can get a take I'll cross the result with the other mess and I'll have all the cattleya alliance in one super hybrid – except for ten or twelve genera!

What would you name something like that? I asked. She'd changed the subject enough to where I knew I could give up even trying to remember what I was arguing about when it started.

Well, Dave suggested the project so I thought I'd name it Maita Empire after his series. I guess they'd let me call that complicated a cross something that doesn't end in `a-r-a,' wouldn't they?

It would be easier than arguing with you about it. Why not name it `Thingamabobara?' It would probably fit better and it would still be one of Dave's heroes.

Dave's a friend who writes science fiction and raises orchids. He lives in the general area. His SF series is about a galactic empire he calls the Maitan Empire. Thing is a Mentan being who used the name Thing Gamabob.... Like you care.

Now you're being silly, she pronounced solemnly. I can't discuss anything with you! You always get off on some tangent!

Me!?!

That's how things go around here.

We went to the medium house to start repotting the overgrown Angulocastes into hanging baskets (They tend to hang the flowers, so it's better to have them above if you want to see them). We were through with those early, so we started work on the weird crosses. We weren't too sure what to use for a medium, but they seemed to really do well in the fine cypress bark and Styrofoam mixture (Really!), so we used that, mostly, but we put a few in other mixes to see what would happen.

It was still fairly early when we finished that, so we decided to pack the junk to take to Bonita Springs and get to bed early so we could get an early start in the morning. It's about an hour drive if we take our time on the interstate.

It was early enough in the year that the breezes were still fairly brisk and mostly out of the west, so I'd go out around Estero Bay in the little boat for sheepshead, trout and mangrove snapper. Pompano would start running soon, so I'd get the tackle ready for the surf while we were there. It was all planned, which is something we always do, but we never follow the plan for more than the first couple hours after we get there. I think we make plans mostly for something to do.

What I mean: Alma decided we'd be able to repot the phals and Oncidiums while we were there, and maybe the Vandas, so we wouldn't interfere with their blooming seasons. We could then replant that big bed of hybrid gerberas because the winter drought had messed them up and they needed separating and new soil, anyhow. I could prune the sea grapes back. They'd take over the place if we didn't.

I think I'll hire a yard service down there. It would be the only way I could get any time to go fishing!

We'd argue back and forth until we got there, then I'd do what I want and she'd do what she wants. We're both too stubborn to allow anyone else to tell us what to do.

On the trip down, Alma entertained the kids with some kind of game she made up and we discussed what plants we'd want to take to the big show in Hawaii. We have family in the islands and make the trip every year to the big international show there – or Alma does. I sometimes have a case that keeps me away. When we can make it, I fly us and our plants over in the jet.

We were turning off of 41 into our access road when the phone beeped and Alma answered it. She groaned and handed it to me.

Son? Dad said over the receiver, "Your mother and I just got home.

"Son, do you remember Sandy Lonsbury? Your mother's second cousin on the Tarkington side of the family? Lives near Warmoth on the lake?

"It seems she's missing. They think she went out on the lake and never came back. Foul play is suspected because her husband, Lonnie, was found dead at their house.

Could you come?

Can't Cliff handle it?

"Oh. I didn't tell you. I'm a bit rattled by all this.

"Cliff's in jail. They charged him with the murder of Lonnie and as a suspect in the disappearance of Sandy. It's a real mess, Son. Cliff did have a fight with Lonnie, but he wouldn't ever kill anyone.

Can you come?

I'll be there as fast as I can.

Chapter one

I landed the jet at the High Flyers' field where Pop met me in the classic Rolls Silver Cloud we keep at the estate. We keep the classic there for the Ashtons to use when they need it and for our guests. Pop likes to drive it, sometimes. He likes to make an impression, and that old car is the thing that will do it.

I tied the jet down in the Crane hangar, then went on out with Pop to the estate for a complete briefing of what had happened, along with Cliff 2 and Mrs. Cliff, Cliff 3's parents and the housekeeper and butler at the estate.

Poppa's at the estate, Dad said. "He came over as soon as he heard about this mess. He's helping Cliff with the orchid range management. You've got fourteen people running around in there with no real boss, now that Horace has retired.

Cliff was handling that since Horace left. It seems, nowadays, it always takes four or five people to do the jobs one always did before and they can't do as good a job. Horace ran the place with six people.

Horace Greely was the orchid grower for Gramps and Grams and for myself at the estate until two years ago, but he couldn't keep up with it anymore. He was eighty years old and Gramps left him a million bucks, so he didn't need the work. He just loved the orchids and the estate and he was always the best grower in the country, for my money.

Gramps also left Cliff 2 and Mrs. Cliff each a million bucks, but they stayed on as housekeeper and butler because they loved the estate. They were always Gramps' closest friends from the time he'd married Grams.  We always considered them to be part of the family. It could be great fun when people discovered that the housekeeper and the butler are millionaires, in there own right. They don't know how to act.

Let's see. Poppa.

Poppa is Alma's father. His name is Gaylord Mortensen, but he said he'd prefer we called him Poppa instead of Gay, for obvious reasons. Her mother was still at their home in North Carolina. Poppa had come over to help when he learned of the trouble.

The estate is the old J. R. Crane place that Gramps and Grams inherited from JR. It's a little place that covers about three miles along Lake Emerald. It used to only be two miles long, but Gramps bought the Torkington place when Mrs. Torkington was about to be murdered by a bunch of syndicate hoods back in the fifties.

Mom is Judy Torkington, who would have inherited it if Gramps hadn't bought the place, so it's all still in the family, anyhow.

Grams had JR build her seven little sixty by two hundred foot greenhouses when she became interested in growing orchids and nine more have been added since, making me the biggest orchidist in the state. We sell cut flowers to the big New York and Chicago markets and wholesale plants to all the big commercial growers in both the US and Europe. We sell fine studs to collectors and never meristem anything ourselves.

Cliff 3 got interested in the orchids from me and runs the place. He's come up with a few very good crosses on his own.

Cliff 3's wife, Donna, had a son two years ago that they named Cliff Ashton 4, to carry on the family traditions of running the Crane estate and (We hope) the detective agency in Nicely. They have a daughter, Anna, named after Mrs. Cliff 2.

See?

The only ones who ever stay at the estate are Alma, me and our friends from Florida, Alma's parents, members of the Crane family from Hawaii and Australia and some of my Aunt Laelia's (Grams named her after the orchid) husband's family. It's Aunt Laelia's son, Sir John Corby-Hines, who now has the Australian outback ranch. He's like his father and Laelia in that he thinks the British title is silly – especially seeing as his great great grandfather bought it!

The estate house and greenhouses are half a mile back from the road by the lake, so the estate actually covers a bit more than two and three quarter square miles, which affords us a certain amount of privacy. The Torkington house is still kept in perfect shape and is used by the Crane conglomerates to entertain clients and as a free vacation spot for the companies' employees who have been with Crane for a certain amount of time. The place has 37 rooms, so can have quite a number of people and their families at one time.

The executives at Crane are not given free vacations. I pay them enough to afford to pay their own way. These vacations are only for the regular workers who have been with Crane for a certain length of time.

People like Tony Jacobi, who are our close friends as well as top executives are invited to the Crane estate house anytime, just like Jim and Lou and Paulo and their families. They come up quite often, which makes the Ashtons happy. They say it isn't good for a house not to be used.

The Crane house has only 32 rooms. Mrs. Cliff's in charge of the staff at the Torkington house as well as any who might be needed at the Crane house. Cliff 3 and Donna live in a separate house over the boathouse and garage by the lake because he wants it that way. Donna takes care of their kids and helps Mrs. Cliff 2 at the houses. She generally takes charge of the Torkington house.

None of the Ashtons have to work. Most certainly not as housekeepers and butlers. They not only are all millionaires from Gramps' will, but had a good bit of money of their own before Gramps died. They work for me because we're almost like family. We're actually MORE like family than the separate branches of the family are. They're all good, honest, decent, productive people who have no interest in laying around doing nothing.

I'm the same in that I have the Crane crap, like it or not, and am a billionaire who makes a million and a half a day whether I even bother to get out of bed or not, yet my favorite thing to do is the detective bit. I do it because I like to do it! I'm damned good at it!

The Ashtons do the housekeeper and butler bit because they like it and they’re damned good at it.

Cliff 3 is one hell of a good detective.

We all like the orchids and other plants – such as the prize camellias all over the estate – and we're damned good at that, too. The Ashtons take more pride in the estate than I do. I'd happily give them the place but, the way it is now, I pay the taxes and upkeep, so they're better off with it in my name. I think I'll leave it to their kids.

Now that I've expressed a bit of my feelings as we drove into the estate I can get on with the story.

Oh, yeah. Pop owns all the banks, two newspapers, several loan companies and a lot of other businesses in Nicely and most of the state. Gramps left all that to him, but he left me the Crane crap, as we call it. Dad and Mom live in town.

I have two sisters who I haven't seen since I was in my early teens. They ran off, but I think they've recently been in touch with Mom and Dad again. I had a brother, but he died of AIDS in San Francisco a couple of years ago, we think. He ran away when he was a teenager.

I'm from a screwed-up family – or it was until shortly before Gramps died. He managed to straighten out something with Pop the day he died that really turned things around for everyone.

I do have one problem from being raised with all that money and power: I tend to have a very high opinion of myself and to run around giving orders – or so it seems to others.

Well, the part about giving orders is true. That's a habit I try to control and that my friends understand. They ignore me. The arrogant attitude is the method I learned from Gramps in the detective work. I assume I WILL solve whatever puzzle is in front of me at a given time because I’m smarter than the criminal –