How Now Purple Cow

by Marja McGraw

  “William took a trip to the east coast after Marsha’s disappearance. He’d worked there for a number of years before returning to California permanently. He’d only kept in touch with my husband intermittently until moving back to his home state.

  “Jefferson was notified by William’s brother, in New York, that he’d died while gone. He didn’t tell my husband how he died, and we were never able to reach him again. Jefferson believed his friend had died of a heart attack. I disagreed and believed William committed suicide because of what he’d done to Marsha.”

  I paused, thinking about what I’d read so far.

  “Is that all there is?” Mikey asked.

  I’d become so involved in the letter that I’d almost forgotten he was sitting on the floor, listening. “No, there’s more.”

  “I dropped the investigation because there was no longer any reason to keep looking into things.”

  “Did I say investigation?” I read. “Yes, I tried to look into things but there’s a big difference between writing a mystery and trying to solve a real case.

  “Marsha had one brother, but they weren’t close. Oddly, he never questioned her disappearance. He said it was typical of Marsha to take off on her own.

  “After William’s death, Jefferson wouldn’t discuss my suspicions. He said to ‘let sleeping dogs lie.’ As I recall, William didn’t have a brother, and that’s what initially started me wondering about what was going on. How could a nonexistent brother notify us of William’s death?

  “In the end, I simply want someone to know what I suspect. Maybe someone else will be able to determine what happened. I’ve left notes regarding what little I was able to discover about Marsha and William. Did he have something to do with her, shall we say, sudden withdrawal from society? Could he have murdered her? I feel awkward even thinking such a thing, and yet this is what’s gone through my mind.

  “I can’t stop thinking about the ring. Why didn’t William give it to her and why was it hidden in the purple bull?

  “Is anyone up to the challenge? Will someone pick up where I’m leaving off?”

  I stopped reading, rethinking Marguerite’s last two sentences.

  “Marguerite signed the letter and included some notes she’d written after doing a little investigating.” I tapped my nail on the manila envelope indicating the notes inside.

  Mikey leaned over and looked inside the drawer. Not seeing anything, he reached toward the back of the drawer. “Mom?” He picked up something wrapped in tissue and held it out to me.

  I gently lifted it out of his hand and removed the tissue paper.

  Judith, Carol and Coral stood and quietly walked to my side, staring down at the sparkling ring I’d unwrapped.

  “I’ve never seen it before,” Carol said. “I’d remember it.”

  “It looks kind of familiar,” Coral said, “and yet it doesn’t. Let me think about this.”

  Mikey stood and faced me. “I’m going outside to get Dad and Grandpa. They’ll want to know about this.”

  The two men were outside working on Chris, Sr.’s car, hoping to avoid the twins. Carol and Coral made the men uncomfortable.

  “That’s it!” Coral said. “Let’s tell the Bogey Man about this. He’s probably ready for a new mystery. If anyone can solve it, it’ll be him.”

  “I don’t know…” My voice trailed off. She might be right, but I wasn’t sure Chris would be happy about it.

  “Now I understand how kids get the wrong idea.” Carol watched her sister while she spoke. “You and I thought Mom said William was a printer. You know, the guy who prints books. We heard her wrong. Obviously she said he was a partner and we never picked up on that.”

  Coral nodded. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. Once we thought she said printer, we never paid attention again. We were kids. The publishing house was a big bore to us anyway.”

  Carol looked thoughtful. “He died a long time ago. He was a good friend of our parents so our mother kept in touch with him even after the fire. He and our father grew up together. Maybe our mother was sticking to the old saying about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer. I don’t really mean he was an enemy, but she obviously suspected him of something.”

  “Yeah, something to do with Marsha – like murder.” Coral glanced up at the ceiling and then at her sister. “I don’t really remember Marsha though. I think we met her once or twice, but I don’t think we spent much time around her.”

  “I think you’re right. I vaguely recall her at a party our parents threw, but that’s about it.” Carol was agreeing with her sister.

  Would wonders never cease?

  The expression on Judith’s face gave me the feeling she was having similar thoughts about the twins.

  The two women discussed their mother’s letter and I briefly studied them. They really did look alike, but apparently they didn’t want to. They were around my height and both of them had blonde hair, but Carol had almost platinum hair and Coral’s was a darker shade, and they wore their hair in very different styles.

  Both of them were slender, but they seemed to do everything they could to dissuade people from comparing them. Coral always wore jeans and casual shirts while Carol dressed to the nines. I’d never seen her in anything but suits, dresses or dressy pantsuits.

  They live next door to each other, but while Carol lives in an upper class style house, Coral’s place is almost a farm. She even has chickens and goats. She invited us over once so Mikey could see and interact with the animals. I had a feeling the farm was her way of thumbing her nose at her sister, although her house was a nice as Carol’s. The grounds at Carol’s house are well-kept, while Coral had, well, goats.

  “Pamela? Coral asked you a question. Pamela?” Judith tapped my shoulder.

  I turned to Coral. “I’m sorry, my mind was wandering. What did you want to know?”

  “Do you think your husband will want to get involved in this? If memory serves, the fire happened around 1960. It would be one of those cold cases they talk about.”

  I could hear Chris, Chris, Sr. and Mikey talking as they walked into the house through the kitchen. “Here he comes now. Let’s ask him.”

  “What’s up, chickadees?” Chris asked.

  My husband is a dead ringer for Humphrey Bogart, and often uses the P.I. vernacular he’s heard in old movies and forties slang in general.

  “It could be a murder,” Carol said. “We want your opinion, Mr. Bogey Man.” She liked Chris’s nickname.

  Was I imagining it or did Chris groan?

  Chapter Three

  The look on Chris’s face told me I hadn’t been imagining the groan. “Somebody was bumped off? Who? When? And where? What’s the skinny on this one?”

  Knowing he didn’t want to get involved in another murder, which is something that had obviously happened before, I jumped in. “Don’t get excited, sweetie. If there was a murder, it would have happened around 1960. Apparently Marguerite Turnbal had some suspicions about a woman’s disappearance and her publishing company business partner.” I shoved the letter into his hand. “Here. Read this and see what you think.”

  “What’s that?” He pointed at the drawer under the stairs.

  “I found that, Dad. It’s a secret hiding place.” Our son looked mighty proud of himself.

  “How’d you find it, Ace?”

  “There was a loose screw and when I tried to tighten it, the drawer just popped open.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned his hands palms up, almost like he felt it should have been evident.

  “Huh.” Chris walked to the dining table and sat, reading the letter as soon as his behind hit the chair.

  “Pamela, I need you to come with me while Junior reads the letter.” Judith headed for the kitchen.

  “Don’t call me Junior,” Chris said, not looking up from the letter.

  I followed her.

  “Since we don’t have any clotted cream, we’ll have to use whipped cream on the scones. Wou
ld you whip some up while I warm the scones?”

  She pulled a bowl out of the cupboard and set it on the sink while I found the electric beaters. The whipping cream was in the refrigerator and I picked it up and poured it in the bowl, added sugar and started whipping with the beaters, taste testing while I did my job. Taste testing is my favorite part of preparing anything. I smiled to myself while I added a little more sugar and tasted the mixture again.

  “Perfect,” I said.

  Judith warmed the scones in the microwave before arranging them on a large plate. While they were warming she’d placed three different flavors of jam in bowls and carried them out to the dining table.

  I placed the whipped cream in a nice bowl she’d taken out of the cupboard and waited for her instructions on what to do next.

  “Okay, take the bowl out and put it on the table while I cut the scones in half. Take a seat and I’ll be out in a minute.”

  She began cutting them crossways, like you’d cut a biscuit. Actually, they looked like biscuits, but I kept my thought to myself. What was the big deal about biscuits?

  Judith carried out the plate of scones and set it in the middle of the table.

  It suddenly struck me why Judith had been so intense all morning. She was anxious about our reactions to her scones. She seemed to simply want to get the whole tasting over with so she could move on.

  “Chris,” she said to her husband, “sit down and join us.”

  My father-in-law is a man of very few words, but he glanced at each of our faces and said, “You’re in for a real treat, ladies.”

  Carol and Coral grinned in his direction.

  Chris, Sr. smiled back, which was interesting in itself. His idea of a smile was lips clamped together while the corners of his mouth turned up. It almost looked like a grimace.

  Fortunately, it was a look the twins were familiar with and they didn’t react except to continue to grin at him.

  Chris handed Marguerite’s letter to Mikey. “Would you please set this on the coffee table? We’ll talk about it after this, uh, feast.” He looked at the scones before turning and winking at me.

  His mother sat down and said, “Okay, now I want honest opinions about the scones so take your time and savor the flavor.”

  Coral picked up her knife and stuck it in the whipped cream before spreading it on the scone.

  Judith placed her hand on Coral’s and shook her head. “No, that goes on top of the jam.”

  “But I always put whipped butter on my biscuits.”

  “First, they’re not biscuits, and second, that’s not whipped butter. It’s whipped cream.”

  “Ohhhh. I didn’t know.”

  “Put some jam on the scone and top it with whipped cream. I didn’t have any clotted cream, so this is the way we’re doing it today.”

  Coral nodded. “I see.”

  She looked skeptical, but followed Judith’s directions, as did the rest of us.

  There was silence around the table while we each took a bite of a scone. A second bite quickly followed, and then a third.

  “Grandma, this is one of the best deserts I’ve had in a long time.” Mikey took a fourth bite. “They don’t taste like biscuits to me.”

  And they didn’t. No matter what they looked like, they didn’t taste like a dinner roll or a regular biscuit. They were delicious.

  “Mom, I think you’ve got a winner here,” I said. “What kind of jam is this?” I’d used the one from the first bowl.

  “It’s called Tayberry Jam. It’s hard to find because they’re a mixed berry that’s difficult to grow. I ordered it from a place in Oregon.” She grinned. “By the way, I figured out you like them because you called me Mom.”

  I couldn’t get used to calling her anything but Judith, but good food called for special moments.

  Chris finished his scone and reached for another one. “Ma, I think you’ve got a winner here, too. The only problem is you’ll have to get a license and follow the Health Department rules, and – “

  “I’ll figure it out,” she interrupted. “And don’t call me Ma.”

  “I’ll stop calling you Ma when you quit referring to me as Junior.”

  She ignored his comment. “Besides, I don’t want to think about the technicalities right now. I’ve got too many other things on my mind.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Carol said. “I’ve had scones before, but these are the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  Judith grinned. “I have a recipe for gingerbread scones with nutmeg whipped cream, too. You’d love those.”

  “Don’t make me drool. It’s not ladylike.”

  “When have you ever really been ladylike?” Coral asked. “And wipe the whipped cream off your lip.”

  Carol grabbed a napkin and delicately wiped her mouth before giving her sister a look that could kill.

  “Why don’t we discuss that dame’s letter?” Chris set his fork beside his empty plate. “It’s kind of cockamamie, but she could have been onto something. It sounds like the babe who disappeared might have been put down for the count.”

  I nodded. “I have a feeling Marguerite wouldn’t have written her letter if she didn’t feel fairly certain she was right. Her notes will tell us what leads she might have followed, and they could give us a starting point.”

  “Ace said you found a ring in the drawer with the other things?”

  Mikey fairly leaped out of his chair to retrieve the ring from the drawer.

  “Yes. Your son will hand it to you in a flash.” I smiled at my son’s eagerness.

  He ran back and handed his father the ring. “What’da ya think, Dad?”

  “It’s big. I’m stymied by the fact that the writer hung on to it, especially since she thought the chump had already given it to the dish. You’d think she would have turned it over to the police.”

  “Yeah, you’d think.” Coral stood behind Chris, big-eyed, and stared at the ring in his hand.

  I was surprised at Coral’s reaction to the ring. She and her sister were both widows who’d married wealthy men with short lifespans. They’d also inherited a bundle from their parents and invested well, and they could probably buy anything they wanted, so what was so special about the ring?

  Carol stood and walked to her sister’s side. “What’s the big deal?”

  Coral pushed her sister away with her hip. “If this ring could talk, we might know what happened.”

  “Sure. In your dreams.” Carol walked back to her seat and checked the plate to see if there were any scones left.

  Chris, Sr. took a brief look at the jewelry and motioned for Mikey to follow him to the drawer in the stairs. They studied the next step up, and then the next. It took a moment before I realized they were checking to see if there were any more secret drawers. They made it all the way to the top of the stairs before Mikey said something to his grandfather and they started back down.

  Mikey stopped behind my chair and placed his hands on my shoulders.

  “No more secrets?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Nary a one.” Every once in a while he came up with a word I never expected to hear come out of his mouth.

  “Nary?” I laughed softly.

  He grinned. “Nary, not one.”

  “Well, you never know what’s going to turn up in this old house.”

  “You’re right about that,” Carol said. “If my mother had a drawer she never told us about, then she probably had other hiding places, too.”

  “Yeah, Mother was full of surprises.” Coral’s gaze swept the room and ended up focused on the drawer. “I guess Carol and I were probably the biggest surprise of all, because we weren’t something she planned. At least, not both of us.” She grinned at her sister.

  “You were the surprise. I was the first one born.” Carol smiled sweetly at Coral.

  “You take that back right now!” Apparently Coral hadn’t counted on that piece of information being made public.

  Chris Sr. took hold of Mikey’s han
d. “Come on, Ace. Let’s go take a good look at some of the nooks and crannies in the kitchen. That seems like a good place to start searching. Again.”

  “I wonder how many times we’ll end up searching this house?” Mikey glanced up at his grandfather. His expression looked very serious. He was thinking ahead, if I knew him, which I did.

  Judith reached toward her son and took the ring from his hand. “I have a feeling this is a huge part of the missing woman puzzle.”

  Chapter Four

  “You might be right, Ma.” Chris watched her study the ring. “Then again, maybe it’s not the ring. What’s the significance of the purple cows?”

  “Good point, Junior.”

  After checking my watch, I stood and turned to Chris. “We need to read the notes she left, but right now we need to go home and change clothes.” I put my hand to my ear. “I think I hear Bogey Nights calling our names.”

  “I’ll read Marguerite’s notes tonight.” Judith set the ring on the dining table. “If there’s anything interesting, I’ll let you know.”

  “Mikey,” I called. “It’s time to go.”

  He ran out of the kitchen. “Can’t I stay with Grandma and Grandpa tonight?”

  “No, Constance is expecting you.”

  Constance is a friend and one-time neighbor. She and Chris’s parents take turns keeping Mikey while Chris and I work at the restaurant. It was her week and she always looked forward to having our son stay with her. She was like an extra grandparent to him, so he was fine with the arrangement.

  “Tell you what,” Judith said. “Wait here a minute. I’ll make copies of Marguerite’s notes and you can take them with you to Connie’s house. I have a computer printer that’ll copy things, too.” She pulled the envelope with the notes in it from the drawer under the stairs and headed for the back of the house.

  “Grandma’s so cool.” Mikey beamed. “She always comes through for me.”