Saint Patrick's Day - The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club Part III: A Dark Comedy Cozy Mystery With A Twist (3 page)

It was immediately apparent to Sam that neither Robert nor Danny found his reference to the John Lennon song remotely funny; or maybe they just didn’t get it.

“Oh, we understand it now. You know the law, do you? Chief of police are you?” asked Danny.

“Was,” corrected Sam

“Never mind that,
Mr. Open Minded
. You are nothing but a bigot. You obviously have a thing about gay people. You obviously don’t agree with our lifestyle, coming over to our home, threatening us,” said Robert, who had now folded his arms as Danny patted him on the shoulder, reassuring him that he was there for him, and encouraging him not to get to upset. Robert touched Danny’s hand in a show of affection.

“I really don’t,” protested Sam, almost laughing at the absurdity of the conversation. “I have nothing against your lifestyle, or your sexuality, I really don’t care. This is about parking, and I am here to just let you know that there isn’t a problem.” Both Robert and Danny shook their heads. This was definitely not going as Sam had planned.

“Look, she won’t park there again. It’s your grass. Have it. I understand. It isn’t a problem,” smiled Sam, wishing he had never knocked on his neighbors’ door in the first place.

“Well, that’s good. Because if she parks there again, we will call the police,” said Robert “and just because you think you are important…”

“I really don’t think I am important. Just an old retired policeman looking for a quiet life,” interrupted Sam.

Robert raised his hand, an indication that he wasn’t even listing to the perplexed Sam.

“…. Just because you think you are important doesn’t mean you are. We are friends with the
real
police chief. You know him? Well, if you park on our grass again, I won’t hesitate, won’t hesitate to call Jeff Morgan, who isn’t an ex anything. Who isn’t retired and is, I am sure you are well aware, the current police chief.” Without seeming to pause for breath Robert continued. “And Jeff is a good friend to the gay community, and I promise you, he won’t tolerate, won’t tolerate this harassment, or your bigotry, bullying, threats, and demands. Good day to you.” And with that, he slammed the door in front of Sam Taylor shut.

For a few seconds, Sam stood at his neighbor’s door in shock. He considered knocking, just to clarify to Robert and Danny that he was not, never had been, and likely never would be homophobic. He had merely come to apologize. Instead of knocking and starting round two of the ‘war of neighbors,’ he shook his head and returned home.

“How did it go, dear?” asked Sabrina as Sam entered their home, her voice coming from his study.

“Oh, just great, I told them not to leave anymore notes. They were fine about it, nice guys actually, told me that they were sorry and to pass on their apologies to you. They agreed not to leave any more notes. Just forget it now. Where are you? What are you doing?” Sam already knew the answer to both of his questions.

Sam Taylor did not like his wife being in his study at the best of times, let alone now, while he was in the middle of an investigation. The last thing he needed was Sabrina poking her nose into his own poking-his-nose-into-things. It was too late though.

“Why on earth are you checking up on the mayor?” asked Sabrina as Sam walked into his office.

“I’m not,” lied Sam.

“Yes you are, I just read your notebook. What has he ever done to you? Are you jealous of him? That he has a pretty wife maybe?” said Sabrina. Once again, her foot tapping.

Sam Taylor’s shoulders slumped. Jeff Morgan, Elliott Miller, his wife, now Danny and Robert…all of them were driving him absolutely bonkers. Maybe he should take a leaf out of Doug Partridges’ book and dig a big hole in the park for all of them.

“Look, dear – it isn’t anything. I am just interested in him. Not his wife, I promise you. I just was curious. You know he was an author?”

“Yes. I saw the books you thought I wouldn’t see. Who the heck gives a rooty toot tooty?”

Sabrina stood up, shook her head, and stopped asking questions as soon as she had begun.

“Okay, well, whatever. Just make sure they don’t put anymore notes on my car.”

“Yes dear. Of course dear.”

“And sweep the leaves in the yard.”

“Yes I will.”

Sabrina sighed. “Oh Sam, you know you wasting your time? I would much prefer things went back to how they were. If we could do things together, like we used to.”

Sam nodded and was just about to give his wife a hug, but before he could, she turned to leave his study.

“The rake is in the shed.”

“I know dear,” replied Sam.

“Are you sure? Because you haven’t used it in months.”

Sam took a deep breath and stared at Elliott’s books. They would have to wait until later.

Chapter 5

“Oh my goodness, this is so much fun. I never realized what you ladies were up to when I used to see you here before I married Elliott, but thank you so much for inviting me to join. I am honored.”

“You are welcome dear, it’s a pleasure to have you join us.”

“Yes, welcome to The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club, Kelly, or should I say Mrs. Mayor?” said Cindy Mopper behind a false smile as she raised her cocktail, disguised in a red plastic cup, to her lips.

“So, how is married life treating you, Kelly, or should I say Mrs. Miller?” asked Heidi Launer sweetly and with a smile.

“Oh, you know, what with all the functions, parties, and of course looking after the three dogs, I haven’t had a second to breathe,” replied Kelly, before taking a very small sip of her rum and coke. “And I prefer Kelly to Mrs. Miller or Mrs. Mayor. They both sound so formal.”

Cindy stared at Kelly, her faced fixed with a fake smile. How she detested the woman sitting opposite her, but she had to keep the act and the pretense up for as long as she could. The arrogance of the girl; preferring to be known as Kelly rather than Mrs. Miller--oh what Cindy would give to be Mrs. Miller.

“But Elliott,” continued Kelly, “well he is simply wonderful. He is so romantic, I never thought I would ever get over Tom, but, well, here I am, back to my old self and happy. And really, it is all because of Elliott.”

Kelly Miller was indeed back to her former self. She had lost the weight she had put on after Tom’s disappearance. Her hair was immaculately colored and styled, her nails manicured and polished, and her clothing complimentary and expensive.

“I guess I am living the dream,” she said to her two older companions.

Living my dream, a dream you stole from me, you disgusting little tramp. A gold digger, that’s all you are. I could throttle you. I really could. What I would give to watch you drop dead right here, right now.

Cindy nodded her agreement. “You have been so lucky to find a wonderful man like Elliott. I hope you enjoy the dream. I wish you both a long life and of course, happiness. You both deserve it.”

Heidi smiled wryly, and took a sip of her drink before speaking. “So I expect you are going to be very busy on Saint Patrick’s Day, what with all those events, and of course, the parade, I believe that this will be Elliott’s third as Mayor, but your first as his wife? No, I forgot, this will be your second St. Patrick’s Day as his wife, but the first time you have ridden in the parade. Sometimes my memory really plays some awful tricks on me.”

Kelly nodded, confirming that next month’s parade, Savannah’s largest and most popular event, would be the first time that she would be sitting with her husband, in the Mayoral car, leading the procession behind the two grand marshals.

“Well, make sure you throw lots of beads,” chimed in Cindy, “I used to go downtown for the parade, but you know, it’s just so crowded, too many people for my liking. I like to watch it on the television these days. But maybe I will pop along. Just to cheer both of you on.”

Cheer her on? I hope she makes a total and utter fool of herself. I hope she throws some beads and they hit someone on the head or in the eye. I hope someone throws an egg at her. Maybe I will, the nasty skank.

“Me too,” said Heidi. “I can’t be down there with all the noise. Steven and his wife-- Steven is my son, Kelly he is a lawyer--he and his wife will be flying in from New York the night before.”

Kelly nodded. She was aware that Heidi had a son, and also aware that he was a lawyer. Elliott had once told her that he was somehow connected to the mafia, and had told her how we was their defense attorney of choice. Apparently he was very good at what he did.

“Well, Steven will be coming. He will be staying with me for a day or two. Go, I told him. Enjoy the parade. But don’t involve me in the shenanigans. No, I will be just fine at home with Betty.”

“So Betty doesn’t like the parade either?” asked Kelly.

“I have no idea if she likes it or not, nor if she wants to go. I haven’t asked her. She will be working anyway. Unfortunately for her, the parade occurs on one of the days I need her. No, Betty knows better than to ask me for time off when it isn’t due.”

“I see,” said Kelly, “so she will miss Elliott and I throwing beads and hopefully not making fools of ourselves.”

The three women laughed and continued to sip their drinks, the dogs enjoying their romp and play time together in the park. It was just like old times, thought Cindy, but not quite. Old times meant Carla and Thelma, but didn’t include Kelly.

“It is so good to see you, Cindy”, said Kelly. “I mean, it has been a long time. I am so glad that you are now out of your little funk. We received the newsletter you wrote, and of course we knew that, for the past few weeks, you had been out and about, so to speak. Elliott and I both wanted to say hello, but you know we have been so busy. But here we are. Friends like we used to be, when we lived next door to each other. By the way, you look wonderful. ”

Funk? You call it a funk, you harlot? It was because of you. All because of you and the fact you stole my man. You tramp. Friends like we used to be? Over my, or better still, your dead body. ‘Elliott and I are so busy’ – how dare you? More like you are keeping Elliott away from me.

Cindy smiled. “Why thank you Kelly that is just so sweet of you. You know you are just like a daughter to me.” If only Kelly knew what she knew, thought Cindy, about Paris. About her and Billy. Soon she would be wiping that perfect little smile from that perfect -looking face. “Well, I’m back now. What is that saying, the one the French always say?
C'est la vie.
Any idea what that actually means? I think it means ‘such is life.’ That’s right, isn’t it Kelly?”

Kelly nodded, indicating that she did know what it meant, though in reality, she had no idea.

“I think the French have many stupid sayings like that,” interjected Heidi. “An odd people I always found. Rather weak and pathetic in my opinion. You know they capitulated during the war? Oh yes, they never even fought back. Let us march straight in. Cowards. Just like those two-faced Italians. Now they are all left wing and socialists--practically communists. The country is just riddled with foreigners, especially Muslims and of course, Jews. ”

Kelly was surprised by Heidi’s last comment. Surely she knew that Elliott was Jewish? She let the remark pass, though she was slightly offended by it. She had though, failed to catch Heidi’s Freudian slip while talking about ‘marching into Paris,’ as had Cindy also.

“You’ve been to Paris haven’t you Kelly?” asked Cindy with a smile.

You won that silly competition. You and your competitions, I bet they are driving Elliott mad. You won that thing and then Billy duped you into sleeping with him. You cheated on your husband, remember? Surely you remember that. Oh, by the way, how would Elliott feel if he knew the truth? That you are nothing but a disgusting, cheating whore?

Kelly shifted uneasily for a second before replying, as if not fazed by the question. “Yes, I loved the place, from what I recall. Very friendly people actually but that was a while ago now. It seems like a hundred years ago. A different lifetime. To be honest, I really don’t remember much about it.”

An age away my foot! Don’t really remember much about it? It isn’t something you forget. Sleeping with a count that turns about to be your next-door neighbor’s nephew. Surely you remember that? Cheating, lying and scheming…remember doing those things?

Cindy nodded, “Of course, it was a long time ago. I expect you don’t remember much at all. Wasn’t it the Hotel Bonaparte you stayed in? I remember you talking about a very fancy hotel.”

“I really don’t remember, but yes, it may have been that hotel. Like I said, so much has happened since then that I hardly remember a thing,” lied Kelly.

The three women sat silently for a minute, all deep in their own thoughts. Kelly was thinking about what dress she would wear for the parade, how she should have her hair styled, what shoes to wear, and what lipstick to apply for the big day. Her intention was to look fabulous for the photographers, press, and TV cameras. She didn’t give any thought to Cindy’s questions and talk of Paris; not for one minute did she think that Cindy knew anything.

Heidi’s thoughts were more complex. She was contemplating on how she could somehow garnish an invite from Kelly to visit her home. Maybe she would suggest coffee, but she didn’t want to be too obvious. Her plan was, of course, to somehow get into the Miller’s large white house and have a snoop around, see what she could find.

Cindy though, was more concerned with keeping up her act. She despised Kelly, and Cindy’s false smile was getting more difficult to maintain. Her gentle touching of Kelly’s hand every now and then, as well as the feigned interest in her social engagements—it was all an act. In reality, she wanted to throttle her. But she had an ace card. And that card would be played when the time was right.

“So, what is going on in the neighborhood? Any gossip?” asked Heidi, interrupting the thoughts of her two companions.

“Well, let me think,” said Cindy. “Brenda Carter eventually sold her house, a while back actually. You know it was on the market forever. She couldn’t sell it, and she certainly didn’t want to move back in. They are going to stay in Canada and buy a condo in Fort Lauderdale to use for the winter. She told me over the phone that they are going to become ‘snow birds,’ that’s what they are called apparently, people who come from the north during the winter and spend the season in Florida. She didn’t get as much as she wanted for the house, you know, because of the suicide. But the new owner is Sam Taylor, the old police chief, and his wife of course, Sabrina. They moved in a few months ago. Isn’t it great? Having the former chief of police in the neighborhood? It can only be a good thing.”

Kelly and Heidi both nodded their agreement. “Absolutely,” said Kelly.

“Fantastic news,” added Heidi.

“Also, The Partridge house on Kinzie Avenue has been sold, at last. Now I hear that it went for an absolutely ridiculous price, half its value, but then again, who would really want to live there with what happened to poor Veronica?” asked Cindy.

Kelly shuddered. It was Veronica Partridge who had destroyed her marriage. Cheating with Tom, until her husband found out and killed them both. The mere mention of the Partridges’ sent shivers running down her spine. That bitch Veronica deserved what she got, as did Tom for that matter. Doug Partridge, wherever he was, had done her a favor.

“Apparently, there is another young couple who are moving in, not your typical Gordonston types. Black I heard, but I guess now that house prices in the neighborhood have dropped, we are going to have to accept that there will be certain ‘changes’ to the type of residents we have in Gordonston,” said Heidi, as she took a sip of her cocktail.

“Any news about Carla’s old place, may she rest in peace?” asked Heidi, oblivious, or unconcerned that her previous comment was bordering on racism. Kelly though, was a little shocked, but put it down to her age. Maybe she hadn’t realized what she had said.

“No, still empty. Her friend Gino, the lovely man who attended her funeral, owns it, she left it him in her will. But I think he will eventually sell it. I have the feeling, though, that he doesn’t want to sell it. Probably wants to keep it as a shrine to Carla maybe? He isn’t living there though. Probably just a sentimental reminder of Carla.”

“Poor Carla,” said Kelly, “such a beautiful woman. You know, I was shocked when I found out how old she was. I thought she was forty at the most.”

Cindy and Heidi momentarily felt sadness, as they recalled their departed friend and her untimely and tragic death. They both missed her, Cindy more so than Heidi, but it had been three years since Carla had drank the poison meant for Cindy.

Oh, thanks a lot for reminding me you, insensitive bitch. Why not add that it was Billy who killed her but that it should have been me? You really are a dumb little tramp. What in the good Lord’s name does Elliott see in you? Apart from your tits, legs, and pretty face? There really is no brain in that head of yours, is there?

“Well, my, Betty Jenkins is extremely busy,” said Heidi. “She looks after Carla’s place, gives it a dusting every week, and checks that it is good condition. Gino apparently hired her to keep an eye on the place. But I told her that was fine, as long as it doesn’t impose on me. I am your priority, I said. I come first. I always come first.”

Cindy nodded her head. “Makes sense, her caretaking Carla’s place. There isn’t anyone like Betty Jenkins to keep an eye on things.”

“She is also doing the same at the other empty place, the house where that nasty old man lived, Ignatius Jackson. She goes in there once a week, cleans, dusts, and checks the place. Apparently he left the house to the church, but they are waiting before they sell it, according to Betty anyway, waiting for the market to improve. You know he had no relatives, alive or dead? He left everything, a pot load of money I heard, to the church,” said Heidi.

It was true that house values in Gordonston had dropped after the murders of Tom Hudd, Veronica Partridge, Carla Zipp, and the suicide of Stefan Deripaska. It seemed the neighborhood had lost some of its ‘exclusivity,’ and where once it had been regarded as a genteel and quite uneventful neighborhood, it was now seen as a subdivision where
‘those things’
had happened. However, just lately, people seemed to be less interested in events that occurred three years ago, and appeared to be moving on to other local gossip. Slowly, things in Gordonston were improving.