Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Vol. 133, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 811 & 812, March/April 2009

Nine days after the Valhalla verdict that freed Mel Bennett, my mother, Mabel La Motte Canfield, collapsed in her kitchen. And died on the floor.

A massive coronary thrombosis, the coroner said.

Medical terminology for a broken heart.

Making arrangements for my mother’s funeral was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Coming so soon after Lisa’s death and the botched trial, it felt like we’d suffered a double homicide. Like somebody’d ripped stitches out of a fresh wound with a lineman’s pliers. And then it got worse.

Greeting folks at the funeral home, accepting and offering condolences, I was one of the final few in the viewing line. And as I gazed down at my mother’s careworn face for the last time, my eye strayed to a showy wreath at the foot of the casket. With a condolence card.

From Melvin Bennett. And family.

After the viewing that evening, I stayed on, sitting alone in the empty parlor in numb silence. So lost in thought I scarcely noticed when my uncle Deacon eased down beside me. A familiar aroma of wood-smoke and whiskey.

“You all right, Paul?”

“Hell no. How could I be? And why would he do a thing like that? Send flowers, knowing how we’d feel.”

“Remember back when Mel was playing football for the Lions? Every time he scored, he’d do a little dance around the end zone. Showing off. I think that’s how he feels now. Like he just pulled off his biggest score ever. Sending the flowers is like dancing.”

“Taunting us, you mean?”

“Nah, he doesn’t give a damn about us. It’s more like he’s taunting the world. Look at me. I’m rich, I’m pretty. I can whack my hick-town girlfriend and the law can’t touch me.”

“And he’s right,” I said bitterly.

“Only half right,” Deke countered. “The law can’t touch him. That don’t mean he can’t be reached.”

I turned slowly to face him. “Uncle Deke, if you go after Mel Bennett now, you’ll die in prison. You know that.”

“I’ve done hard time, Paul. I can do it again if I have to.”

“My mother didn’t want this.”

“Maybe she’s changed her mind,” Deke said evenly. “Why don’t you ask her? Or ask Lisa. Lemme know what they say.”

“You know what they’d say.”

“Dammit, when Mabel asked me to wait I went along for her sake, but I’m done waitin’, Paulie, so save your breath.”

“I’m not asking you to wait, Uncle Deke. You’re right, we’re way past that. But whatever you decide to do, I want in.”

“You’d better think about that, boy. Your mother—

“I don’t have a mother anymore! Mel Bennett saw to that! We’ve held two Canfield funerals and that sonofabitch doesn’t have a mark on him. And now this?” I nodded at the flowers. “Enough already! I can’t let this pass any more than you can.”

“Slow down, Paul. We ain’t talking about some classroom problem here. Collecting a debt like this will be an ugly, dangerous business. And afterward, you’ll have to live with what’s done for the rest of your life. You really think you’re up for that?”

“I’m in, Uncle Deke. All the way. If you tell me no, I’ll do it on my own!”

He eyed me in silence, reading my face like a stranger. Which wasn’t a comfortable experience.

My uncle and I were never close. I was already a teenager when my uncle got out of prison. I heard he’d gotten mobbed-up in Jackson and hadn’t been straight since. Some people call him a gangster.

I call him “sir.”

He’s my mother’s brother. She loved him and he’d always been welcome in our home. And that was good enough for me. Especially now.

“Well?” I demanded.

“Maybe there’s more La Motte blood in you than I thought, boy.” He shrugged. “Take a look at this.” He handed me a typewritten note. Lisa, I heard about your situation. Maybe I can help. We should talk. I’ll pick you up after work. F. “It was on Lisa’s office computer,” he explained. “She got it the day she was killed.”

“How did you get it?”

“Don’t ask. My crew’s got more connections in the north counties than Michigan Bell.”

“All right then, who’s F?”

“The police think F is Fawn Daniels, but it was e-mailed from a coffee shop so it can’t be traced. The D.A. couldn’t use it. It makes sense, though. Lisa was pregnant, who better to talk to about it than Mel’s other girlfriend? Or so she thought.”

“My God, that’s why Lisa walked home alone that night. She was expecting a ride.”

Deke nodded. “I think the Daniels woman set Lisa up for Mel. Probably expected to be Mel’s new lady, but he’s banging some high-school cheerleader now, seventeen years old. Fawn’s history, in more ways than one. She goes first.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It ain’t complicated, boy. The Daniels woman and Bennett killed Lisa together. She’s as guilty as he is. They’re both going to pay for it, but she has to be first.”

“Why?” I managed, swallowing hard.