Die Laughing

By Geoffrey A. Feller

Natalie Dvorak #12: Who killed the woman whose body was found inside an old shed in the woods? Detective-Sergeant Natalie Dvorak of the Vermont State Police is on the case. Her regular partner is out of the investigation because the murdered woman was one of his ex-girlfriends. Natalie’s suspects include a has-been retired movie comedian. His alibi checks out but a blackmailer seems to think the funnyman is guilty. Does a threatening call come from someone who is concealing evidence for personal gain? A confrontation at an amusement park ties up all but the most important loose end. Natalie must race through the back roads of Vermont to catch a dangerous killer before there are any more victims.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Geoffrey A. Feller
• Release date: Apr 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005195960

Geoffrey A. Feller

I was born fifty-seven years ago in the Bible belt but grew up in a Massachusetts college town. I am married and my wife and I have moved frequently since we met. We've lived in Minnesota, Massachusetts, and New Mexico, as well as a brief residency in Berlin, Germany. I have worked peripherally in health care, banking, and insurance. In addition to writing, I have done a bit of amateur acting and comedy performances. I am afraid of heights but public speaking doesn't scare me. My wife and I live in Albuquerque with our chihuahua.

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DIE

LAUGHING

by Geoffrey A. Feller

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2021 by Geoffrey A. Feller

CHAPTER ONE:

BLUE LIGHT SPECIAL

The late spring rain had moved to the north but the country road winding through the dense woods in the town of Baker were still wet. The new tires on the wheels of a silver Cadillac Sedan Deville hissed as they rolled along the asphalt, louder than the smooth running car engine. Trooper David Bray looked up at hearing the car; he was standing alongside his green Field Force cruiser, guarding the entrance to a driveway that led to a crime scene.

The Cadillac slowed to a stop across from Bray and the driver door window slid down. The driver was a dark-haired, middle-aged man with lively eyes in a large head with flabby jowls.

Hey, there! the driver said, pointing at the flashing light bar on the cruiser roof. Looks like a Blue Light Special! What’s on sale, officer?

What’s it to you, pal? Bray asked gruffly.

I live up the hill, next lot over. Something I ought to worry about?

Let us do the worrying. You going straight home?

Yeah.

What’s your name, buddy?

You mean you don’t recognize me?

Wouldn’t have asked if I had. Just tell me.

Greg G. Dudley. That ring a bell?

You got a record?

I’ve recorded a few albums, officer. Mostly been in motion pictures and TV.

No kidding, Bray responded without interest.

You retire and they forget you, Dudley sighed. But maybe you never saw me in the first place.

Guess not. Move along. Maybe the detectives will come see you.

Detectives? Whoa, that sounds bad! Old Blake got hurt?

You know Abner Blake?

Been my neighbor for ten years, officer.

Well, he’s okay. It’s something else. Go home and wait for the detectives, Mr. Dudley.

Detective Johnny Billings, driving up in an unmarked State Police cruiser, barely caught sight of the Cadillac’s taillights as he slowed for the turn to Abner Blake’s driveway. Johnny braked and rolled down the window to speak with Trooper Bray.

Nice to see you, Detective, Bray said.

Likewise. How d’you like being a Field Force trooper?

It’s been a good move, Bray replied with a nod. Better than being a town cop.

Let’s hope it stays that way. Gould’s down at the house?

That’s right. I didn’t see anything myself but I guess he’s got a body on the premises.

Thanks, Dave. We’ll get you on the radio if we need help down the hill.

Yes, sir. I spoke to one civilian just now.

Yeah? The Caddy driver?

Bray nodded.

Said he’s Blake’s next-door neighbor. Tried to find out what happened but I said I’d leave that to the detectives.

That’s the right answer. Anything else?

The guy seemed to think he’s famous, or used to be.

Famous, huh? Might explain the Deville in a place like Baker.

I never heard of him.

Get his name?

Bray nodded.

Dudley. Greg Dudley. Said he’s been in movies and on TV.

I think he’s some kind of comedian.

Might be a smart-ass when you question him.

Thanks for the heads-up.

Johnny drove forward and down the dirt road through the woods. He left the window rolled down and could hear leaves dripping from the rainfall.

There was no Cadillac at the Blake homestead. Instead an old Ford pickup truck was parked in front of a shabby little house with a steel roof and faded paint over slatted exterior walls. A second Field Force unit was parked behind the truck. Trooper Gould was leaning against its front fender.

He stood up straight as Johnny got out of her car.

Hello, Gould.

Detective.

Where’s the complainant?

Inside the house.

The body?

In the shed around back.

Crime Scene Unit en route?

Yes, Detective.

Thank you, Gould.

Johnny walked up to the front door and opened it. There was no hallway; the doorway led directly into the living room where he saw Abner Blake, elderly, frail, and sitting in a stained armchair.

Mr. Blake, Johnny said. No, don’t get up. I’m Detective Billings of the State Police. I understand Trooper Gould’s already taken your statement.

Yes, sir, the old man said. I found her in there, in the shed. Never seen her before today. It’s something terrible! A young girl like that…

Terrible, Johnny agreed. I won’t repeat the questions the trooper’s already asked you but we might need to go over them again later.

Blake nodded.

Must’ve been a shock, Johnny added. You take it easy here for now while I go back to your shed.

Blake nodded again.

Our forensic team will be going over everything and the medical examiner will be coming down to get his business done. We’ll remove her when he says it’s okay but you’ll have to stay out of the shed afterwards.

Don’t ever want to go in there again, Blake muttered.

Johnny went back outside and pulled on a set of latex gloves before asking Gould to lead him back to the shed.

Wait till you see the girl, Gould said with a thin smile. A real blond bombshell. Damned waste!

The shed was more dilapidated than the house. Its door was hanging loose on one remaining hinge. Johnny had to duck his head going inside but Gould didn’t. There was a musty odor inside the structure but no stink from decomposition. Sunlight was coming in from a broken window to their left.

The dead body was lying in the shaft of sunlight. Johnny looked it over: lying on her back was a tall, blond woman in her twenties wearing a pullover shirt and denim cutoff shorts. No jewelry, barefoot. Long, well-toned legs, wide hips, busty, yet with a slim waist. The cause of death was immediately apparent: a rope was wrapped tightly around the woman’s slender neck. The baby doll face was frozen in shocked dismay, lifeless blue eyes protruding from their sockets.

Oh, God, Johnny said softly.

Detective?

Gould, I have to get on the radio!

Why, what’s wrong?

Just wait outside the shed for the CSU team, okay?

She’s regal, Henry Dvorak said to his sister Natalie in the kitchen of his house. That means she comes across like a queen.

I know what regal means, Natalie replied, frowning with irritation. If you didn’t think I knew what the word meant, why’d you use it in the first place?

Sorry, Henry sighed, pouring coffee into a mug for her.

Is that some vocabulary building tactic you use on your students? I would’ve thought that’s something a grade school teacher would use, not a university professor.

I said I was sorry.

Henry brought the two full coffee mugs over to the kitchen table and sat across from Natalie. He was eight years older than her, the kid sister Henry sought to educate long before he decided to go into teaching as a career.

I’m sorry, too, Natalie said, lifting her mug. I’m too old for a stupid inferiority complex. You’ve got the brains; I’ve got instinct and gut feelings.

Nonsense, Henry replied. An objective measure of intelligence would score yours equal to mine. It’s just a matter of how it’s applied. You solve crimes as a police detective with that brain of yours while I try to mold my students’ minds in such a way that they won’t commit crimes for detectives to solve.

I haven’t busted any former students of yours, Natalie said with a smile. You must be doing something right.

Maybe you have arrested some of them without knowing it.

We have the same last name, Henry. Same prominent nose, same dark blue eyes. Seems like one of them might’ve made the connection.

But would he mention it? Are you related to Professor Dvorak, that son of a bitch who flunked me for English Lit in 1979?

Natalie laughed and shook her head.

I’d hate to think of some hardened criminal having a grudge over a bad grade you gave him. You’re not built for physical combat.

Henry shrugged. He was short and flabby; although she was even shorter than Henry, Natalie’s body was conditioned into a compact powerhouse through weight lifting and martial arts training.

I’m glad Melanie took after you to that extent, Henry said. If she won’t follow her old man into post graduate work at least she’s living in the big city as a strong young woman.

I only wish my little niece was doing something less dangerous than riding around as a bike messenger. She can bench press more than her own weight but that’s no defense against a two ton truck.

Don’t talk that way in front of Margaret, Henry said. She worries enough about our daughter.

I won’t. Anyway, this new girlfriend Melanie’s bringing up here. Regal, you said?

Lorraine is an older woman to Melanie; much younger than us, of course. But she’s about thirty.

Seven years is real gap at their ages, Natalie said. Not like it’s a generation separating them but I could see Melanie looking up to Lorraine as someone more experienced and sophisticated. You said she’s a folk musician?

Sings and plays guitar. What I meant by regal is that she’s serious and self-assured.

That’s a bit of a departure for Melanie. What I’ve seen of her relationships looks like she’s always been the one in control.

Henry nodded.

Maybe giving up some of that control will be good for her, he said.

Melanie arrived at her parents’ house in Colchester, just north of Burlington, Vermont, riding in Lorraine’s car. It had been a long drive from the Boston area; they had left before eight in the morning to reach the Dvorak homestead in time for lunch. The rain had slowed them down somewhat.

Lorraine parked behind Natalie’s car in the driveway. Natalie watched from the picture window over the kitchen sink as the two women emerged from the Toyota. Neither was wearing a raincoat and they dashed up the pathway towards the front door.

Melanie was the petite one with dark hair. Lorraine was a statuesque, busty blond.

My God, Natalie muttered. She looks like Michelle!

Michelle, dear?

The voice was Margaret’s; she was British-born and had a West London accent.

Natalie turned towards her sister-in-law.

I meant Lorraine looks like my husband’s ex-wife.

But on closer inspection, after the two arrivals toweled themselves off in the foyer, she could see that Lorraine was no Michelle. Natalie had seduced Dan away from a woman who was so warm and kind-hearted that it showed in a face that defaulted into a friendly, welcoming expression.

Lorraine on the other hand was prettier than Michelle yet her face was set into a slight, skeptical frown. Natalie wondered if her own face looked like that during the stage of an investigation when everyone is a suspect. To some people, injustice in the world made every place a crime scene.

Natalie glanced over to her niece. Melanie had her mother’s heart-shaped face and small nose along with the Dvorak eyes. But Natalie noticed something else: Melanie’s impish demeanor was gone along with the punk-rock dye in her hair; it was still short and spiky yet back to its natural brown.

Auntie! Melanie exclaimed after embracing each parent in turn.

They hadn’t seen each other since the holidays at the end of the year, before Melanie had met Lorraine. The emphatic hug was normal for them, especially after an extended separation; they felt a special connection despite occasional clashes over Melanie’s marijuana use.

How are you, babe?

I’m great! Let me introduce you to my sweetheart.

Natalie approached Lorraine and initiated a prim handshake. At five-one, her forehead was at the level of the other woman’s chin.

You’re the policewoman? Lorraine asked.

State Police detective, Henry said. A sergeant, in fact.

Lorraine didn’t seem impressed.

Well, let’s go on through to the living room, Margaret said. You two can unpack the car after the rain lets up. It’s due to stop within an hour or two.

Speaking of cars, Melanie said as the whole group started walking, is that your new Chevy Cavalier, Nat?

Yes. You heard the old VW Rabbit got destroyed.

Car accident? Lorraine asked.

Went off a mountain road and down into a ravine, Natalie replied. I barely got out in time.

What, are you kidding? Lorraine gasped.

Natalie looked back over her shoulder at her.

Wish I was. That was a terrible night.

Would everyone like coffee? Margaret asked. Lunch will be ready in about twenty minutes.

Natalie wondered whether she was being tested when Lorraine pulled Melanie onto her lap after taking her seat on the sofa. Did she assume