Perplexity on P1/2 (Parson's Cove Mysteries) (11 page)

     “Well, pardon me, Miss Detective Who Doesn’t Want to Get Involved. It’s just that you keep saying
we.
If I remember correctly, you distinctly said, ‘I will not get involved in this murder case. I will only come with you so you don’t get yourself killed.’ And, if I further remember, you repeated that to me at least ten times before we even got on the plane.”

     Flori blushed and her eyes filled with tears. “I know but it seems different now. Now, there’s someone else to watch over you, too. It will be so much easier if I have someone to help me.”

     I knew she was ready to burst into a flood so I handed her the box of tissues and said, “You’re right. It will be easier for both of us.” She blew her nose and I gave her a hug. “Now,” I said, “where do you want to eat? I’m starving.”

     “How about seafood? I think I’d like to avoid Mexican for another day or so.”

     We strolled down the seawall to a little establishment that said it had the freshest seafood in the Gulf coast. It was another warm evening and the breeze off the water was just enough to make a person wish they’d brought their sweater. Flori, of course, remembered hers. The food was delicious. Flori splurged on a bottle of wine, which she insisted we finish before we leave because even though it was the restaurant’s cheapest, it was expensive. At least, to anyone from Parson’s Cove.

     “And not as good as Sadie MacIntosh’s chokecherry wine,” she said. “Not by a long shot.” Her tongue slid out to catch a drop that almost escaped from the side of her mouth.

     “Don’t worry,” I said. “The taste will improve the more you drink.”

     Flori giggled until everyone at the surrounding tables began staring and I gave her a gentle kick under the table. “Flori,” I said, “everyone is staring. Here, have another drink,” and I filled her glass up to the top again. At that point, she totally lost control and the people beside us burst out laughing too.

     Well, by the time we were finished the wine and ready to go, Flori had everyone’s address and knew pretty much everything there was to know about anyone. Except Big Bill’s little prostate problem. That was something, he said, he didn’t like to talk about - at least, in public. Perhaps, he and Flori could go out for lunch. If I hadn’t given her a kick and the evil eye, I’m sure she would’ve hauled off and hit him with her handbag. It was bad enough that she gave him a three-minute lecture on fidelity. I didn’t need that much attention. We were getting too much as it was.

     “I think you’ve missed out on a lot of things in life, Flori, because you’ve been stuck in Parson’s Cove.” We were almost at the hotel now and the sun was setting. In the west, the sky was orangey-red and in the east, it was pink and powder blue. “If you were let out on the loose, I think you’d pretty much know someone in every state or maybe every country.”

     Flori was still smiling when we reached our room. In fact, I think she slept with it plastered to her face because when I woke up in the morning, there she was, smiling down at me.

     “I let you sleep in a bit, Mabel, but now you’d better get up and shower. Stella is going to be here any minute. She’s taking us out for breakfast. She knows this little restaurant down on 25
^th
, I think she said it was. Anyway, she has a car so she’s going to be driving us.” She flung the covers off me. “I’ve already started the shower running. Now, scoot.”

     I stared up at her. “You are my best friend, Flori, but now I remember why I never wanted to go on a vacation with you. My own mother never started the shower running for me. And, definitely never told me to scoot.”

     “That’s because you were an only child and your mother didn’t know how to handle you.”

     There was no use in arguing with her so I trudged to the bathroom. Little streams of steam were seeping through the opening along the floor.

     “By the way,” I said, before entering the steam room, “did I tell you that Stella is black?”

     Flori looked a bit confused. “Black? Black what?”

     “Black skin. What do you think I meant?”

     Just before I shut the door, I heard her say, “She didn’t sound black.”

Chapter Fifteen

     “I think we should set up surveillance on Cecile’s house.” That was my first idea – with the emphasis on ‘my.’

     Flori whispered, “Since you live next door, Stella, and have all those windows facing his house, I think that should be your job. What do you think?”

     Stella replied, in a hoarse whisper, “I suppose I could. Only thing is, I might not know what to watch for. Don’ forget, I ain’t done no sneaky things before. I’m innocent like a little lamb.” She roared. Flori did too but I’m not sure she knew why. “My bedroom faces Grace’s house. I su’pose I could sit in the dark and keep watch. That little weasel comes home, I’ll let you know.”

     “What about your husband?” I asked.

     “Oh, she doesn’t have one,” Flori said. “Her husband, Rocky, died seven years ago. He was a firefighter. She lives with her oldest son, Spencer. He works here and there. Right now, he’s working at some job in Houston so he might not be home for a day or so. Stella isn’t sure what exactly he’s doing. Besides, he lives in the little suite down below so he won’t know what his mama is up to.”

     She and Stella giggled.

     Why did I feel like I was the one out of the loop? And, what was this? Flori saying, ‘mama?’

     Stella opened her huge handbag and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here,” she said, as she handed it over to Flori. “I made a list of some of the places drug dealers visit.” Realizing her voice was back to normal, she looked around and whispered, “Not that we’d go in or anything but we could sit outside and watch. Surveillance, you know.”

     There was actually no need to whisper, the place was so noisy, you couldn’t hear yourself think.

     Not to be outdone, I opened my handbag. It was about one-third the size of Stella’s bag. I laid my envelope of pictures on the table.

     “I thought you gave all your pictures to Reg,” Flori said.

     “He doesn’t need all of them.” I spread them out. “Here’s every picture I kept that has a human being in it.”

     Stella gasped. “That’s him,” she said, pointing to the picture of the man in front of the mechanical cowboy. “Why do you have a picture of him?”

     “That’s who? Why do I have a picture of whom?”

     “Grace’s husband, that’s who.” Stella looked at me as if I might be joking. “You’re telling me you don’t know who that is?”

     “I’m telling you, I had no idea who that was. Flori and I just thought he was some creepy guy who accidently got into one of my pictures.” I looked at the man. “That’s Grace’s husband? Are you sure?” I handed the picture to her so she could get a better look.

     She took it and nodded. “I recognized him upside down.” She gave it back. “See how evil he looks?” She shook her head. “That’s Cecile Tucker, sure as I’m sittin’ here.”

     “Cecile Tucker? But Grace said her name was Grace Hobbs.”

     Stella raised her eyebrows almost as high as Flori raises hers.

     “She did? Now, why would she say that? Maybe she’s ashamed to use his name. Come to think of it, I guess I never really knew if she used his name or not. Some women don’t, you know.”

     “Maybe they weren’t even married,” Flori said. “I bet they were living in sin. Those kinds of people do.”

     Stella nodded and murmured in agreement.

     “Flori,” I said, “one of your kids lives in sin.”

     “All right, Mabel, I’m just making a point. You didn’t have to bring that up. You know it breaks my heart.”

     “It’s all right, darlin’,” Stella said. “One of mine does too. Nothin’ I say does any good. Young people nowadays got no moral sense a t’all.”

     “Okay, you two, let’s get back to what’s at hand here. Why would the name in the phone book be Hobbs? Shouldn’t it be Tucker?”

     Stella leaned forward, glancing around before she spoke. “I think it’s in her sister’s name. She used to live there but then she died. Grace and Cecile never changed it.”

     “She died?”

     Stella leaned over farther and nodded. “That’s what I hear. Strange circumstances, too. Mind you, this is mostly hearsay but I’m sure there’s truth to it. Nothing anyone could prove but it was a suspicious death. Know what I mean?” Her eyes looked like two black marbles floating in a sea of white milk.

     Without realizing it, I had started leaning over the table too. “How suspicious are we talking about?”

     Stella did another quick look around. No one was watching; certainly, no one could hear over the din.

     “Ginger lived there first. Everybody called her that ‘cause of her hair but I think her real name was Cathy. She was a real nice friendly girl. Not sure where she worked. She seemed to be comin’ and goin’ a lot too. Onc’t I happened to notice a gun layin’ on her kitchen table when I walked past the window. ‘Course, lots o’ girls have those for protection, you know. Kept her yard all nice and neat. Then, along comes Cecile and Grace. Grace, I don’t mind. All of a sudden, I notice Ginger isn’t lookin’ so healthy. Kind of limpin’ around.  I axe her, ‘what’s wrong wich you, honey?’ She say, ‘I’m okay. Just got injured from some fall.’ But, you know what I’m thinkin’? I’m thinkin’ gunshot wound. That’s what I’m thinkin’. Next thing you know, Ginger is nowhere to be seen and Grace and Cecile take over the house. Do that sound suspicious to you?”

     Flori and I nodded in agreement. 

     “Do you think Grace left Cecile?” Flori piped up. “Maybe that’s why he was in Vegas. He was checking up on her. If that’s the case we might’ve come all the way down here for nothing. Who knows where he might be.”

     “Not for nothing,” I said. “I’m sure he would’ve come back to his house. Where else would he go? It would all belong to him now. Not that’s it’s anything to brag about.” It sounded to me like it was a cursed house no matter which way you looked at it.  “Somehow,” I said, “I have a feeling that he’s probably the killer.”

     Stella and Flori widened their eyes, raised their eyebrows simultaneously and nodded in agreement.

     “So what can we do?” Flori asked. “I don’t want to make a citizen’s arrest, you know.”

     “Oh sugar, you wouldn’t want to make a citizen’s arrest on this guy if you were armed with a bazooka. Trust me; he’s nobody to fool with. It’s a good thing he’s never in his yard because when he’s out there, I go inside.”

     “We won’t make any arrests. When we spot him, we’ll simply call the police and tell them what we know.”

     “What about Grace’s friend?” Stella asked. “Didn’t you say she had a friend who lived here too?”

     “Well, they weren’t friends. They met on the trip.”

     The server cleared away our plates and filled our cups up for the third time. There were people still standing by the door, waiting for a table. I tried not to make eye contact. I was glad Flori was facing me because she would insist we get up and give our table to someone. She would for sure if she knew there was a woman with crutches waiting there. There were people sitting, nursing a cup of coffee, who’d been here much longer than us, so let them move on.

     “We should really let her know about Grace, don’ you think?” Stella asked. “That would be the Christian thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

     “Yes, it would,” Flori gushed. “It would be and besides,” she looked at me, “she might be able to tell us something about Grace.”

     “What’d you say her name was?” Stella asked.

     “Andrea Williams.”

     “Hmmm. Williams is a common name. Lots of folks by that name here in Yellow Rose.” Stella seemed to be trying to conjure up a face. “Don’ think I know any Andrea though. What’d she look like? She black?”

     I shook my head. “Not black. Sort of everyday looking. Her hair was dirty blonde. She was a bit on the heavy side.”

     “Honey, that’s about how every woman in Texas looks.” She and Flori burst out laughing.

     “Except for us black folk, that is.”

     Flori blushed. She’d already forgotten that their skin tones were different.

     I sorted through the pictures that I’d brought.

     “Here. This is Andrea.” I handed her the picture I had of Andrea and Grace standing together in the hotel lobby. I hadn’t thought about it before but now I remembered how Andrea hated getting her picture taken. I thought it was because she didn’t like the way she looked. That’s why, when we were in the lobby, I snapped it quickly before she noticed. She wasn’t facing the camera but there was enough of her face showing to be able to identify her easily. Grace was looking the other way so I only got her back.

     Stella picked it up and examined it carefully. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen her round here and I pretty much know everyone. Yellow Rose ain’t exactly that big, you know. Unless, she’s from the west end where all the rich folk live.”

     “No, I’m pretty sure she isn’t from any rich area.”

     “I don’ think so either. She look more like po’ folk. Isn’t dressed too sharp, is she?”

     I looked at the picture. Now that Stella mentioned it, Andrea did look more like po’ folk than rich folk.

     She grabbed hold of the waitress’ apron as she walked by.

     “Honey, you gotta phone book I can look at?”

     “Si. Up by the register.”

     Stella slid out of the seat and went to the counter by the entrance. Before grabbing the phone book, she walked over to the woman with the crutches and said, “How y’all doin,’ sweetie? We’ll be out of here soon as anything, sugar. Can you jus’ hang on a bit longer?” The woman gave a little hop as she tried straightening her crutches, nodded, and smiled. Stella gave her a hug that sent one crutch flying. I kept talking to Flori so she wouldn’t see. 

     The server filled our cups again.

     “Aren’t these the friendliest folks you ever met, Mabel?” Flori said.

     I had to admit they were right up there in the top ten. It was quite all right, however, to let a cripple keep standing, as long as you called her ‘honey’ and gave her a hug. It’s the same in Parson’s Cove, except we don’t call just anyone ‘honey’ and Flori is about the only person who hugs.