Perplexity on P1/2 (Parson's Cove Mysteries) (8 page)

     “Hummph. If that’s your attitude…” She turned to open the door.

     “No, no, it’s not. You’re right,” I said. She gave me a surprised look. “No, I mean it, Esther. You take your time and look around.” I tried very hard to smile. “After all, I understand that you’ve been through a terrifying experience yourself lately. I really need to have more compassion for others.”

     “That’s very noble of you but trust me, I have not suffered through any horrifying experience. I take everything in life in stride, even murder, and I mind my own business, Mabel.”

     “Well, lucky you! I have to admit that finding out that you discovered my friend’s body in the woods has quite unnerved me. I’m afraid it’s made me a little irritable so you’ll have to forgive me and take it in your stride, Esther.”

     “One of your friends?” Her nose came down an inch. “You knew the woman who was murdered?” Her eyes widened and her glasses slid. “I know it was dark but I could see enough to know that she was a stranger to me. How could you know her?”

     “We don’t have to know each other’s friends, Esther. I’m sure you have lots of friends whom I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting.”

     “Oh well, I suppose so.” She turned and wandered down an aisle with a confused look on her face. In Parson’s Cove, everyone knows everyone’s friends. Esther has none.

     I waited by the register. She stopped every few feet to pick something up and then put it back.

     “Find anything yet, Esther?” I called out. I knew what she really wanted was to find out how I knew the murder victim but she would be too proud to ask.

     “Don’t rush me. You know they say that the customer is always right.”

     “Depends on the customer,” I said under my breath.

     “I heard that.”

     After ten minutes, she walked to the door. “Sorry, Mabel, you don’t have anything I’m interested in. Almost everything you have was made in some foreign country with cheap child labor. I thought perhaps you’d upped your standards and finally acquired some new merchandise. Something from Paris or Rome? But, no, there’s nothing outstanding or exceptional here at all.”

     “Oh, but I do have something extraordinary. Well, it’s not new. Used, but in very good condition and it’s gold.”

     “Gold? You have something in gold?” Esther’s eyes always light up when someone mentions the word gold.

     I reached in my pocket and pulled out the earring.

     She gasped. “Where did you get that?”

     Her hand shot out like a serpent’s tongue but my hand was faster.

     “I know it’s yours, Esther, and you know what? When you tell me what you were doing out by the lake and in the woods, you’ll get it back.”

     “What? Are you crazy? That’s none of your business. I will
never
tell you what I was doing out there.”

     “That’s okay. I will
never
give you back your earring.”

     She crossed her arms against her chest and put her nose in the air. “Hmmmph. I will go to Sheriff Smee and we’ll see about this, Mabel. He’ll make you give that earring back.”

     “Oh, I don’t think so, Esther. This is a murder case. It’s one thing simply to drop an earring on the ground but I found this out by the lake. Right beside the path leading to the body. What would you be doing out there at night? And then, of course, there’s the threatening phone call. How does that fit in with the murder, Esther?” I placed my arms across my chest and lifted my chin in the air, too.

     I watched as Esther’s face changed from white to scarlet.

     “Phone call? What phone call?”

     “You know very well. You can try and disguise your voice all you like but I know it was you.”

     “Well, I’ll have you know, it wasn’t me. If you were the last person on earth, I wouldn’t phone you, Mabel Wickles.”

     She had a point there.

     “You would if you were involved in a murder; so, what were you doing in the woods? You’d better tell me if you want your gold earring back.”

     “Never.” 

     “Okay. I’ll see what Reg thinks about all of this then.”

     Esther flew out the door, leaving me alone with a gold earring in my hand.

Chapter Ten

     “She could be telling the truth, Mabel.”

     Flori sat in Father’s chair, sipping her wine. There were four cats in the living room, all vying for Flori’s attention. The other three were outside, probably searching for a platonic relationship with any cat, other than a family member. My cats are extremely naive so as a result, have returned home many times beaten up by a bewildered tomcat. I guess in the animal world it’s hard to accept the fact that a few are neither ‘he’s’ nor ‘she’s’ but only ‘its.’

     “No, I’m pretty sure she was lying. I could tell by the way she blushed.” I picked up the bottle and topped off our glasses. “I would give anything to know why she was in the woods at night. What do you think?”

     Flori rolled her eyes. “Like I know what Esther does with her time. Maybe she was out berry picking.”

     “At night? I’d say more like baying at the moon. No, she was up to something. I wish I knew; it’s driving me crazy.”

     “Did you ask her?”

     “Of course, I asked her.”

     “And?”

     “She said that she would never tell me so I threatened to take the earring over to Reg.”

     “Are you going to?”

     “I doubt it. It really doesn’t have anything to do with the murder. I like to have some leverage with her, that’s all.”

     “You just like to torture her, you mean.”

      “That, too.”

     We drank our wine in silence for a few minutes, which is very rare with Flori, but it was pleasant.

     “So, you really think she’s the one who made the phone call, Mabel?”

     “I wish I knew for sure. It did rather catch her off guard. But the blush, Flori. Usually that’s the giveaway with Esther.”

     Flori looked at her watch. “I’d better skedaddle home. Jake will be back soon.”

     She tipped her glass up and drained it. A few drops that dribbled down her chin, she carefully caught with her finger and drove back into her mouth.

     “I swear, Flori, you’d make a better beer guzzler than a wine connoisseur. It wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t let out a loud belch about now.”

     She stood up and leaned over to place the glass on the coffee table. “Oh, for goodness sake, you know I’d never do that.” She straightened up. “If you want me to bring over fresh cinnamon buns to the shop tomorrow, you’d better treat me really good.”

     “Enough said. You can down your wine any old way you please, my dear.”

     We hugged and Flori left for home. It was still early and I definitely wasn’t going to spend a beautiful warm spring evening sitting at home watching television.

     Phil jumped up on my lap and started purring. I scratched behind her ears and under her chin until my hand was wet with drool.

     “You’re as bad as Flori,” I said, and gently pushed her away. “But, you are one smart cat, Phil. So, who do you think might know what Esther was doing in the woods?” She gazed up at me (by the way, did I explain that her real name is Phyllis?) with such devotion that I had to start scratching her again. What’s a little drool between friends anyway?

     Sometimes I’m amazed how my brain works. Out of nowhere, a thought formed. There was one person in Parson’s Cove who knows what everyone is doing. There is someone who walks the streets at night, always somewhere in the darkness but never seen. Charlie Thompson. To top it all off, he was my friend.

     I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. Charlie would be sitting on the bench in front of the library now. That’s where he was sitting the day the bank was robbed a couple of years ago. If it hadn’t been for Charlie, the bank manager would now be living it up on some exotic island. Of course, if I hadn’t been Charlie’s friend, in whom he confided, no one would ever know.

     “Hi Charlie,” I called out as I neared the bench.

     Charlie didn’t answer or move. Sometimes, it isn’t easy talking to him because if you don’t get him in the exact right mood, he doesn’t say a thing. Also, if you happen to say the wrong thing or say too much, Charlie clams up. He’ll get up and walk away when you’re in the middle of a sentence. It takes a very patient person to converse with this man.

     Some of the older folk (I mean in their eighties) know Charlie’s story. His parents were already up in years when they moved to Parson’s Cove with a small boy. They claimed that Charlie was their son but the rumor was that he was, in fact, their grandson. A child born out of wedlock to one of their daughters. Who knows? It was juicy gossip for many years anyway. It soon became apparent that Charlie was a bit different from other children. All the teachers felt sorry for him so instead of keeping him in the first grade for years, they simply kept moving him ahead. I was already in high school but would walk to school with him whenever I could. At least, on those days, no one teased him. Maybe that’s why he’s my friend today. When his parents died, Parson’s Cove’s Town Council moved him from one home to another. No one wanted Charlie. Finally, when he was old enough to be on his own, they settled him into a little house at the end of Main Street. There he lives to this day, minding his own business and not bothering anyone. There are folks who think his place looks dumpy but personally, I think it looks like a small summer cottage. Besides, he keeps it as neat as a pin.

     I sat down beside him. He was staring into the western sky.

     “Beautiful, isn’t it, Charlie?”

     If he heard me, he didn’t let on.

     “The sunset, I mean.”

     Still no response.

     When was the last time I’d sat like this and watched the sun go down? I couldn’t even remember. No one does it anymore, it seems.

     “You know, Charlie, I should get Jake to build a deck or something in my backyard. I could sit outside and watch the sunsets or the stars. That would be a good idea, wouldn’t it?”

     “What do you want me to tell you, Mabel?”

     “Well, you could tell me it’s a good idea, I suppose. Would you want to come over and sit with me? I could make coffee and we could eat fresh muffins. How does that sound?”

     His mouth moved slightly. That meant he was thinking about smiling. That’s usually as far as it goes. It was encouraging though.

     “That would be nice but I know you didn’t come to tell me that. You want me to tell you something else.”

     Charlie is sometimes more perceptive than other folks.

     “You know me, Charlie. I’ll come straight out and ask you. Do you know what Esther was doing out in the woods when she found that body?”

     He nodded.

     My heart beat faster. “You know what she was doing out there?”

     He nodded again.

     “Can you tell me? I’d really like to know. Did you know that I knew the woman who was murdered? She was in Las Vegas with me. Maybe you could help me solve this crime. Remember the bank robbery? How we worked together? We could do that again. What do you think?”

     Charlie sat for a long time and said nothing. I don’t know if he blinked. This is where endurance comes in. I’m sure that at least ten minutes passed. I was actually thinking of getting up and walking back home when he spoke up.

     “Esther didn’t have anything to do with the murder, Mabel.”

     “Oh, Charlie, I know that. I just have to know what she was doing out there. I’ll tell you a secret: she left a very nasty message on my answering machine and I’d like to find out why. That’s why I thought you could help.” 

     He turned his head and looked at me for the first time. “She left a nasty message?”

     “Yes, she did, Charlie. She doesn’t like me very much.”

     “Well, I like you, Mabel, so I’ll tell you what she was doing out there. Esther meets someone out by the lake, late at night.”

     “She meets someone? Who?”

     Charlie turned back to the sunset and started to hum. This was the end of our conversation. Perhaps, he would tell me more tomorrow. Even this much probably wore him right out.

     I patted him on the arm and thanked him. I found myself humming all the way home too.

Chapter Eleven 

     I couldn’t stop worrying about the murder case. Every time Reg or his deputies saw me, they almost crossed over to the other side of the street to avoid me. The least they could do was fill me in on some of the evidence they’d collected.

     I clicked my bedside lamp on and checked the clock. It wasn’t quite ten yet. My room was dark because I’d pulled the blind down. The sun was setting much later now but there was no way I could sleep in a light room. I needed a drink of water, however, so I got up and went downstairs. While I was there, I thought I might as well kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes.

     Reg picked up on the third ring.

     “What do you want, Mabel?” he said, without as much as a ‘hello.’ (I always forget that he has ‘call display.’ As does Flori.)

     “Well, and how are you, too, Mr. Smee?”

     “Never mind the niceties; I know you’re after something.”

     “Maybe I want to talk to Beth.”

     “Do you?”

     He had me there. “No, you know I want to talk to you, Reg. I have to know how the murder case is going. You know Grace was someone I knew. I think you owe it to me to keep me informed.”

     He paused for the briefest moment and then he sighed.

     “I guess I owe you something, Mabel. Actually, there’s not much to tell. You know very well that when Maxymowich comes, I’m not exactly kept up to speed. All I know for sure is that they’re having a hard time trying to find any of her family. Other than that, you know as much as I do. Does that help you any?”

     “Has anybody gone down to Yellow Rose, Texas, to check things out?”

     “Nobody from here but they’re probably in touch with the cops down there. At least, I would imagine. Maxymowich isn’t stupid. He’ll cover all the bases.”