Murder of a Smart Cookie: A Scumble River Mystery (9 page)

“Mmm. So the intruder hadn’t messed anything up?”

“Not really. I could tell things weren’t where I had them, but my house is pretty full of stuff, so to the police it probably looked just fine.”

Skye wasn’t sure how to ask the next question. “Um, how were you thinking I could help you?”

“Well, you’ve solved some crimes in the past, and since you already know Cookie Caldwell, and what she’s capable of, I was hoping you’d look into this matter for me. It’s obvious the police won’t do a thing.” Mrs. Griggs suddenly looked every year of her age. “The pin may not have any monetary value, but it was from my husband and it means a lot to me.” Before Skye could answer, the older woman continued, “And she’s starting to scare me.”

Mrs. Griggs’s last statement caught Skye by surprise. She would have bet big money that the old lady wasn’t afraid of anything. “How?”

“She’s relentless.” Mrs. Griggs’s shoulders slumped. “It started right after the incident with the vase. At first it seemed harmless enough. She came around to the house and apologized. I accepted, but refused her request to take a look at my other things.”

“That was probably best.”

“Right. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Mrs. Griggs drained the glass of water. “After that, she started calling me, leaving me notes, following me around downtown.”

Skye frowned. “That’s terrible.”

“And this last week it’s gotten worse. Monday, somebody cut my clothesline and all my clean laundry fell into the dirt. Tuesday, when I went out to get my mail, all that was in the box was a pile of ashes. Wednesday, someone put sugar in my gas tank.” Mrs. Griggs suddenly grabbed Skye’s hand, her nails digging into the palm. “And Thursday, the Virgin Mary disappeared.”

“Oh, my.” Skye blinked. She was fairly sure Mrs. Griggs was referring to a statue of the Madonna. In Scumble River and the surrounding towns, the figurines were placed in up-right bathtubs whose interiors had been painted blue. These homemade shrines were then inserted into the ground as a yard decoration.

“This morning I got a call telling me I was next.” Mrs. Griggs released Skye’s hand and collapsed back in her seat.

“Then tonight someone broke into your house.” Skye brought the chain of events to its alarming conclusion.

“Yes.”

“Did you tell the deputy all this?”

Mrs. Griggs nodded. “McCabe said they’d keep an eye out, but he didn’t seem too impressed.”

“Is there anyone you could go visit for a while? A friend or relative who lives out of town? How about your daughter?” Skye was trying to figure out what she could do. Maybe after the yard sale she’d have time to watch Cookie and catch her in the act.

“No! I’m not running away.” Mrs. Griggs shook her head. “Besides, I don’t have anyone. Neither Mr. Griggs nor I had any siblings, so no nieces or nephews. He had a few distant cousins, but I stopped hearing from them years ago. I’m sure they must all be dead by now. And my daughter, Sterling, was killed in a car crash in 1969. I don’t have anyone.”

“I was born in 1969,” Skye murmured without thinking.

“I knew it.” Mrs. Griggs straightened. “What month?”

“December.”

“That’s the month she died.” Mrs. Griggs took Skye’s hands and stared intently into her eyes. “You’re going to think I’m a silly old woman, but you have the same hair, eyes, body type; even your voice sounds the same. I’m sure you’re Sterling reincarnated.”

“Now, Mrs. Griggs, really, I’m not your daughter come back to life.” Skye gently removed her hands from the woman’s grip. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Yes, I do.” A stubborn expression had settled on Mrs. Griggs’s face. “And that’s why you’re going to help me.”

Skye knew she’d be sorry, but she said, “I’m going to help you because I like you, not because I’m your dead daughter.” Before Mrs. Griggs could protest, Skye continued, “I’ll talk to Wally tomorrow and try to convince him to speak to Cookie, even though it isn’t his jurisdiction. If that doesn’t work, I’ll have a little chat with her myself. But I really can’t do much more until the yard sale is over.”

“I understand, dear.” Mrs. Griggs got up. “You do what you can, and give me a call when you have a chance.”

“Would you like to stay here tonight?” Skye asked. “My bed has fresh sheets and I could sleep on the couch.”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

Skye walked the old woman to the door. “I’ll call you sometime tomorrow, but you can phone here anytime. My mom will track me down.”

“Thank you, dear.”

As Mrs. Griggs went down the front steps, Skye abruptly wondered how the woman had known she was staying at her parents and called out, “How did you find me?”

“That TV star moving into your cottage was the talk of the KC fish fry, and your grandma mentioned at the bingo game you were staying with your folks for the duration.” Mrs. Griggs waved. “Good night, Sterling.”

Skye shook her head as she watched Mrs. Griggs climb into an ancient Lincoln and drive off. Imagine Mrs. Griggs thinking that Skye was her reincarnated daughter. Still, Skye had felt an immediate connection with
the older woman, almost a sense of having known her before. Skye shook her head again. No, that kind of thinking was silly. Mrs. Griggs was just a lonely old lady who missed her daughter. Skye felt sorry for her. There was nothing supernatural in that.

The Route 66 Yard Sale officially started at eight a.m. Skye was in her office and on the phone by six. Her first calls were to all the other towns participating. No one was officially in charge of the whole sale; each town had its own coordinator, who took care of his or her section, but Dante had been the driving force behind the idea, so keeping an eye on the entire event fell to Skye.

By seven-fifteen she had talked to the people in charge in Elwood, Wilmington, Braidwood, Godley, Braceville, Gardner, Brooklyn, Dwight, Odell, Pontiac, Chenoa, Lexington, Towanda, and Funks Grove. The larger cities of Joliet and Normal had declined to participate, although their hotels and restaurants were happy to accommodate the people pouring in for the sale.

When Skye finished her last phone call, she stood and adjusted the official Route 66 Yard Sale black-and-white baseball cap on her head, then tucked the matching T-shirt into her black shorts, made sure her tennis shoes were tied tightly, and clipped her walkie-talkie to her belt.

Before leaving for the sale’s grand opening, she went next door to the police station to talk to Wally about Alma Griggs and Cookie Caldwell, but she was told Wally was already out patrolling the yard sale. She would have to catch him sometime later in the day.

During the short golf cart ride to the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Skye went over her mental to-do list. After the opening, she wanted to make a circuit of the booths to see that they were having a smooth start. She especially needed to check on the Doozier Petting Zoo. She just knew that lion would cause trouble. Her only hope was that the Dooziers had not made the necessary improvements and the inspector had closed them down.

As Skye pulled up to the black-and-white-checkered ribbon stretched across Maryland Street at Kinsman, Skye caught her breath. Behind the barricades, as far as she could see, was a wall of people. She looked at her watch. It was only seven-thirty, half an hour before the sale would open. How long had these people been gathering, and what had they done with all their cars?

Skye had gotten permission from the owner of the out-of-business aerosol can factory on the corner of Scumble River Road and Route 66 to use that site as a parking lot, but would that be enough? And if it wasn’t, what would happen?

Although the main opening ceremony was to take place in Scumble River, most of the small towns along the route were having their own ribbon cuttings. Skye wondered briefly what kind of crowds had gathered for them, and would consequently be wending their way toward Scumble River later in the day.

Her thoughts were interrupted by one of the part-time policemen that Wally had called in for the sale. “Ma’am? You’re in charge here, right?”

“Yes, officer.” Skye smiled at the young man, even though she hated being called “ma’am.” He didn’t look much more than eighteen and seemed extremely uncomfortable in his uniform. “Can I help you?”

“We’re diverting traffic around Maryland by taking them north on Kinsman, then west on Springfield, and back south on Rosemary Road.”

Skye nodded, wondering why he was giving her a geography lesson.

“Well, the sale hasn’t even started yet and traffic is already backed up as far as Brooklyn. The police there just called and asked us to kindly get the galldarn cars moving. What should we do?”

Skye chewed her lip. She had no idea what to suggest. First of all, her sense of direction was awful, and second, she had not considered this scenario. “Have you checked with the chief?”

“Yep. He said to see what you wanted to do.”

Great. Depending how you looked at it, either she had Wally’s full confidence or he was throwing the whole mess in her lap. She made a snap decision. “Okay, instead of diverting them all to the north, have every other car go south on Kinsman, west on Stebler, and take the old bridge over to Rolling Water Road. Then if they want to go on to Dwight they can go south, and if they want to come back toward Scumble River they can go north.”

The officer looked doubtful. “That old bridge can only take one vehicle at a time.”

“Yes, I know, but one is better than none.”

He pulled on his cap. “Yes, ma’am.”

Before she could reconsider her decision, Dante pulled up in his own golf cart. Beside him, his wife, Olive, sat as if someone had stuck a pole down me back of her dress. Her short ash blond hair was sprayed into a helmet that the NFL would have envied. Her pink shoes and handbag precisely matched the flowers in her dress and the pearls on her ears, throat, and finger.

Olive looked around anxiously before getting out of the cart. She had moved to Scumble River from Chicago more than forty years ago when she married Dante, but she still seemed ill at ease among the natives.

Dante waddled up to Skye, Olive trailing him, and demanded, “Is everything ready?”

“Good morning to you, too, Uncle Dante.” Skye smiled sweetly. “Yes, it is a lovely day, even if it is a little on the hot side, but we are so lucky it isn’t raining.”

“So, is everything ready?” Dante repeated, raising his voice.

Obviously her uncle was not learning from her attempt to model courteous behavior, so Skye tried another behavior-management technique—ignoring him. “And how are you today, Aunt Olive? You look lovely, as always.” Skye leaned forward and kissed her aunt’s soft cheek. Olive smelled of old-fashioned face powder and attar of roses.

Olive patted Skye’s hand, then cut her eyes at her husband before stammering, “Thank you, dear. I’m fine.”

Dante gritted his teeth and snarled, “Good morning. Now will you tell me if everything is ready?”

Skye nodded. “We’re all set.” She guided her aunt and uncle to the small portable platform and helped them onto it, then handed Dante a microphone. She turned and nodded to a high school boy she had recruited from the audiovisual club to run the PA system. He flipped the switch and held up his thumb.

Skye looked at her watch. The second hand was just sweeping the twelve. It was precisely eight o’clock. She turned to Dante and cued him. “Now.”

While Dante started with the usual thanking of everyone and their dog for helping, Skye scanned the audience. Faith and her TV crew were in the front row taping the mayor’s welcoming speech. Skye wondered idly how much of his talk would end up on the cutting-room floor. She spotted her parents and brother near the middle, and not too far from them was Trixie. Mrs. Griggs sat off to one side on a lawn chair with several other Scumble River senior citizens.

Directly behind the seniors was a group of the town’s merchants, including Cookie Caldwell. Skye grimaced and looked around. Several police officers were scattered through the throng, but no sign of the chief. As soon as Dante finished, she really had to find Wally and talk to him about the Cookie/Mrs. Griggs situation.

Although by a quirk of rezoning Mrs. Griggs now lived outside the city limits, Skye knew she would have better luck persuading Wally, rather than the sheriff, to do something to protect the old woman. Besides her personal relationship with Wally, he regarded the town’s citizens as his people, while Scumble River was only one small part of the sheriff’s kingdom.

Dante paused and the spectators applauded. He then began his closing. “Route 66 is no longer an official highway, and perhaps because of this, it has gained an aura that attracts hundreds if not thousands of people every year to try and follow it from beginning to end. Much like Marilyn Monroe and James Dean, it is more revered now than when it was ‘alive.’ The legend is more than the reality. The invented past has more meaning to people because it can be anything you want it to be. Because of this, we who live along a small stretch of this magic thoroughfare want to honor it, and we do so today by welcoming you to the First Annual Route 66 Yard Sale. A hundred miles of fun, entertainment, and treasures.”

The crowd went wild, clapping and whistling. Skye was stunned. The one thing her uncle had not ordered her to write and, in fact, wouldn’t let her see, had been his welcoming speech. She had been sure it would be boring and self-congratulatory, and the first half had lived up to her expectations, but the closing was amazing. Who knew her uncle had that kind of romantic oratory in him? It was a reminder that she should try to be less judgmental about people.

Feeling chastised, she went to help her aunt and uncle step down from the platform. Once they were safely on the ground and she had given orders for the dais to be moved away, she hugged Dante and said, “That was a wonderful speech. You brought tears to my eyes.”

He stiffened in surprise, then hugged her back and said, “Never forget, there’s a fine line between bull’s-eye and bullshit, and I am a master archer.”

With that, Dante and Olive walked over to the ribbon. Skye handed him a huge pair of gold scissors and stepped aside. He cut the ribbon and welcomed everyone again. Then, before the police moved the sawhorses, he and Olive got into their golf cart, waved, and drove away.