Gore in the Garden

by Shelley Dawn Siddall

  Barb shrugged and tried to appear indifferent, but she felt a smile creeping around the edges of her mouth. She was pretty sure that her neighbor would never show up. Especially since she rolled some heavy concrete planters in the pond early this morning a couple of hours before she left.

  The Noseworthy chick and the cop were already investigating the wheelbarrow. After Barb showered and ate breakfast, she peeked out the window, and glory be, a whole passel of cops had shown up and were across the road. They eventually loaded the wheelbarrow in a small truck and drove away. They’d never find the body though.

  She started giggling at the thought.

  “Now what happens?” she asked the clerk, knowing the answer.

  The clerk walked into the middle of the waiting room and called again, “In the matter of Walters mediation with Shire, are the parties present?” She sighed and added, “Is there a Mr. Walters, a Mr. Andrew Walters present?”

  Barb covered her smile with a frilly hanky and coughed.

  “As Mr. Walters has failed to appear, you are free to leave. He will have to re-apply for mediation. Looks like this is your lucky day.”

  You don’t know the half of it, Barb thought as she raced out of the courthouse and ran headlong into Barry.

  “Barb! What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “As if you don’t know, you sly dog you,” Barb said with a smirk on her face.

  Barry frowned and shook his head. “Whatever Barb, I have to go.” He started up the stairs then turned back and hollered, “Anita got arrested this morning! For murder!”

  Every cell in Barb Shire’s body was immediately charged with electricity as she repeated each word.

  “Anita got arrested this morning? For murder? This day just keeps getting better and better!”

  She threw her shoulders back, turned around and marched back up the stairs. Her Barry needed her!

  ***

  The following Thursday, the Huckleberry Blue…Balls were celebrating in the lounge at Splitsville Lanes. Each team member wore the T-shirt Gracie had made up for them. It read “Huckleberry Blue Balls; oh get your mind out of the gutter!”

  “Here’s to the second to last place finishers in the ‘Mostly Over Forty League’,” Mark said as he raised his glass.

  Pauline took yet another large gulp of her beer and warbled her own toast. “Here’s to not being over forty!”

  Dave and Gracie laughed as Ted raised his glass. “Here’s to old re-runs of Columbo!”

  Gracie chimed in. “Here’s to non-refundable deposits!”

  There was a pause as everyone turned to look at Dave.

  “Here’s to beer!”

  The entire lounge laughed at that toast.

  The Huckleberry Blue…Balls began reviewing the latest murder in the town.

  “One thing I don’t understand,” Pauline said, “Is why on earth Anita Frederickson killed Andrew Walters in the first place?”

  Ted chuckled. “That woman does not know the meaning of self-incrimination. Even after being read her rights, she just kept talking. Before she married Barry, she worked for the City of Munson as an assistant in the urban planning department. She saw that Munson was negotiating with Huckleberry town council to appropriate part of the rural area where Andrew, Barb and Barry’s houses sit.”

  “They wanted to build a honking condo development, complete with its own car dealership and shopping mall,” Gracie added.

  Ted nodded. “So Anita spent some time getting her car fixed at Barry’s shop; and the next thing you know, they’re married. Her masterplan was to kill Andrew, blame Barb, buy their properties and then sell all three and apparently retire in the Caribbean.” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Without Barry.”

  Pauline still look confused. “That’s a long-range plan, to be sure. Did she really have the time to do all that before Munson City expanded?”

  “Oh you bet!” Gracie claimed. “We don’t even know if Munson City expansion is going to get the green light. Their so-called appropriation will be up for a serious discussion. The Huckleberry Town Council have a referendum planned for the fall.” She stopped and looked serious. “And I need you all to vote no to this proposed expansion.”

  The team nodded while Pauline persisted. “So, what, she just phoned Andrew up and said come on over and I’ll bash your head in for you?”

  “That’s the one thing she wasn’t clear about. She hasn’t told us what she said to Andrew to get him to walk over. But when he arrived, she had a mix master ready, one of their wedding presents, and just walked out and killed him.”

  Gracie squinted her eyes. “Was it a red mix master? I saw that on sale in January at Irene’s Emporium. I was going to buy it, but when I went back; it was gone.”

  “It was indeed a red one,” Ted acknowledged and added, “That’s why she thought she had washed all the blood off, but she hadn’t.”

  Gracie leaned forward and told the group. “And Barry was completely innocent in all this. Barb? Not so much.”

  Dave raised his hand. “Here’s to beer, and of course, true love. My understanding is Barb hid the body in her pond because she was madly in love with Barry. I am madly in love with someone.” He winked at Pauline, “but I would never hide a body in a pond for her.” He took a drink. “If we had a pond.”

  Pauline patted Dave’s hand. “Right back at you, Babe.”

  Mark ordered another round and picked up the story. “When Barb left Friday morning, we had already obtained the search warrant and drained her pond. She was arrested at the Court House for obstruction in a murder investigation.”

  Ted continued. “Right. As you’ll recall, Anita had drugged Barry, so when he awoke he dashed to the Court House to get the truth. When he did, his mind was blown. He actually allowed Barb to stand by him and pat his hand as we explained everything to him.”

  Pauline shook her head. “He must have been heartbroken. What did he do?”

  Ted tented his fingers and tapped them together. “He posted bail.” Here he paused dramatically then added, “For Barb.”

  Gracie, of course, already knew this, but the three officers who had been working other cases, choked and spit out their mouthful of beer.

  Gracie raised her glass. “To finding true love, no matter how strange the journey!”

  Ted winked at Gracie, “Or how many detours it takes!”

  Don’t Be Koi With Me!

  “Did you do something bad, but can’t quite remember? Did your neighbor do something bad and you want to get the goods on them? Contact Gracie Noseworthy Investigations at 555-2368. I sniff out trouble!”

  Anderson Payne read the advertisement again.

  She’s got some nerve, he thought, I’m going over there right now and give her a piece of my mind. He was so angry he left his front door open as he exited and marched down the road.

  He knocked on a cobalt blue door and thrust a newspaper into the face of the owner when she opened the door.

  “You’ve got some nerve advertising when you are the worst neighbor in the world.”

  “Mr. Payne,” Gracie said calmly, “Ever since you moved in one year ago, I have steadfastly refused to participate in any humorous endeavor concerning your surname. I am now reconsidering that stand.”

  Anderson shook the newspaper again. “Your cats have been terrorizing my fish!” he proclaimed.

  Gracie took a step back and looked at her two beautiful Sphynx cats, Zoey and Frank, curled up together on the window seat in the sunlight.

  “Perhaps in their dreams,” she said. “Mr. Payne, my cats are indoor cats. They were rescue cats and have no desire to ever go outside again.”

  “They have been terrorizing my fish I tell you. I’ve followed them back here.”

  It was early in the morning and Gracie was still down a quart of coffee. She felt herself getting a bit snippy.

  “No you did not. I do not let my cats out. If you have one hundred dollars, you could hire me to track down these fish-terr
orizing cats. A photograph or a video of these felines in action would be helpful. Otherwise, go home.” From her height, she could stare down at him. She hoped she was being intimidating, as she was quite miffed.

  “One is a big fluffy tabby and the other one is a small grey cat. Here, let me look at yours.” Anderson Payne put one hand on the door and one foot on the threshold of Gracie’s home.

  Gracie clapped her hands together loudly in front of his face, narrowly missing his nose.

  It startled him so much he stopped trying to barge his way in.

  “You are fastly becoming a pain in the rear. For your information, the onus probandi or burden of proof is on you, Mr. Payne. But I will repeat myself in case you did not hear me the first time. I do not let my cats out. I do not even have a pet door! What I do have is toast and cream cheese on a plate in the kitchen waiting for me.” She leaned her face close to Anderson’s. “Now, what would be the appropriate thing to say to me at this juncture?”

  “Good morning?” he asked.

  “I was hoping for an apology, but that will have to do. A good morning to you as well, Mr. Payne in the rear.”

  Gracie quietly shut the door and returned to her breakfast.

  Mr. Payne muttered to himself all the way home.

  “Thinks she can just tune me out, does she? Thinks I don’t know her cats are skulking around my fishpond? Drastic times call for drastic measures. She’ll be sorry.”

  As he approached his house, a large fluffy tabby walked out his front door. It sat down on the step and waited for Anderson.

  Anderson started running towards the tabby while yelling, “You stupid cat! I’m going to get you and return you to your Mother, dead or alive!”

  The cat, unperturbed, began a serious grooming routine which stopped Anderson in his tracks. He actually shuddered as he looked at the cat, hind leg stretched out, oblivious to the world.

  Anderson inched by the cat and slammed his door. He threw the paper he was still clutching down on the kitchen table and went out the back door to his pond to check on his fish.

  They were his jewels.

  Last year, after he and his wife split, he bought this house on Landsbury Lane. The first thing he did was build a garden pond; a beautiful home fit for his treasures.

  Then, he carefully selected the Koi he wanted. This time around he wanted personality. Anderson purchased two tea colored Chagoi Koi. He was in the process of teaching them to feed from his hand. Although they didn’t have the more spectacular coloration of other types of Koi, they would swim up to greet him every time he came to the pond’s edge.

  He also purchased two Tancho Koi; each fish was a solid white with a single red dot on their head.

  His ex-wife never understood his fascination with his pets.

  “Anderson,” she’d say, “Fish are cold and creepy like snakes. How on earth can they possibly be friendly?”

  But she tolerated the fish and he tolerated her, until the pond heater tragedy. Anderson had to leave for a work project for a week and had left his wife specific instructions for the care of his fish.

  He really didn’t expect that she would measure the length of his fish on a daily basis in order to determine the amount to feed them, so he estimated their daily protein pellet requirements and set out little packets for each day for her to, as she put it, ‘dump in the pond’. Anderson also drilled into her that the aerator should always be running, along with the filter.

  He pleaded with her to test the pH every day and showed her how easy it was. Lastly, he asked her to check the temperature of the water and make sure it stayed at eighteen degrees Fahrenheit.

  She forgot pretty much everything Anderson reviewed with her until she was sitting in their house one night and found it a bit chilly. She turned up the furnace and settled back in on the couch with a romance novel when she finally thought of the fish. As Anderson was due home early the next morning she ran out to the shed and cranked up the heat in the pond. That deed done, she spent a delightful evening reading her bodice ripper and then fell asleep.

  She awoke to the sound of Anderson screaming.

  She had fried all the fish.

  Although Anderson’s Divorce lawyer repeatedly informed him that he could not charge his soon to be ex-wife with murder, Anderson inundated the police force in Munson with daily visits and phone calls. The police force in turn decided frequent visits to his home at inopportune times day and night were in order. Anderson finally got the message and let the matter drop, but he religiously read the paper cover to cover to see if any cases of animal cruelty had been reported. He hoped his former wife had learned her lesson, but by gum, he’d be there as a witness for the prosecution if he was ever needed.

  He wasn’t.

  He sold his home, split the proceeds with his ex-wife Cynthia and moved to Huckleberry. But now his living ornaments; his only friends; his Koi, were being threatened by a different kind of wickedness.

  Cats. Anderson hated cats. Unfortunately they loved him. Probably because of the way he smelled. Regardless, they found him wherever he went and now, they had descended upon his home.

  He had put non-toxic dye in his pond a few months ago to darken the water and thereby discourage predators, but it didn’t help. That darn tabby and his little grey buddy would be at the pond’s edge every morning, watching his fish.

  The silly fish would come up and nibble at their paws and then the cats would strike, literally. They batted at the fish. It wouldn’t be long, Anderson knew, before they tried to eat them. That’s why he had to act!

  The thing was, he didn’t know what to do.

  After he spent some time with his fish, Greg, Jan, Bobby and Cindy, (even if he got another female, he would never have a Marcia; it sounded too much like Cynthia), he went back in the house, picked up the paper and read the flyer for the local hardware store. They had live animal traps for feral cats on sale.

  ***

  Ted brought a large mug of coffee to Gracie and set it on the table in front of her.

  “What was that all about?”

  Gracie held up her pointer finger, said, “Bear with,” and had a great gulp of coffee.

  “Crazy neighbor is absolutely convinced that my cats are terrorizing his fish. But on to more interesting subjects; did Julia Smith’s husband ever show up? Trudy-Faye was by yesterday to inveigle me in being a food stop on the garden tour this year, and she went on and on about the bedposts and the marigolds.”

  Ted slathered more cream cheese on his toast.

  “I know, we had a slew of missing persons reported this spring. Nothing new on the Smith front, although I must say, I love her garden beds. I don’t suppose you’ve taken on any new clients?”

  “Alas, no. My calendar is unfortunately open. This means the Huckleberry Police Force will have to solve this, wait, what do you mean a slew?”

  Ted smiled. “No flies on you, Gracie my girl! Down at the Hospice, a Nurse didn’t show up for work last night. I know you volunteer there when your demanding investigating work will allow…”

  Gracie eyed her remaining piece of toast and debated throwing it at Ted.

  “Who is missing and how do you know she’s not just sick and forgot to phone in?” she said.

  “Emma Bartlett. Both her co-workers and room-mate reported her missing.”

  “Why do people with the loveliest names turn out to be the nasty? You’d think that being bestowed with such a beautiful name like Emma, she would be a jewel of a girl.” Gracie slapped the table. “Well, I’m here to tell she is not a jewel; more like a chunk of coal. I’ve seen her in action.”

  “Did you report her?” asked Ted, knowing Gracie was a staunch advocate for the elderly and vulnerable.

  “You bet! Several times. She works at a Hospice, for heaven’s sake. People are dying! If they want ice cream for breakfast, they can have it, yet I’ve heard Nurse Emma flatly refuse to bring the patient ice cream.”

  “And so you went to the kitchen yourse
lf and…?” asked Ted, already knowing the answer.

  “I brought Mr. Hiebert double the ice cream.” Gracie sat up straighter. “I actually served it in two separate dishes; more for Emma to wash up.”

  “There should be a test,” Ted said looking off in the distance.

  “Yes,” said Gracie, “At a certain age, say twenty, your actions should already be speaking to your character. A test at that age should be given to determine if you are worthy to carry the name you are born with.” Gracie made check marks in the air.

  “Kind to strangers? Check. Has a job and is good at it? Check. Loves cats? Check.”

  Ted chuckled. “What if they love dogs? Or even fish?”

  Gracie considered this. “They would get half a point.”

  “And let’s say they fail the beautiful name test. Let’s say they are not worthy of the name Emma, or Madison or even Gracie?”

  “Then their moniker is changed there and then to Hortense or Helga or if it’s a boy, Harry or Herbert.” Gracie poured them more coffee. “That way, people would know right off what sort of person they are!”

  Ted added a heavy dollop of cream to his coffee. “Ah, but what about a leopard changing spots? You know, turning your life around and all that sort of goody two shoes nonsense. Then the name would again, be totally inappropriate to say nothing of setting up the bearer for pre-judgment.”

  Gracie thought about the point for a second. “I wouldn’t mind a leopard named Helga,” she said.

  Ted smiled as a thunderous knocking on the front door began. He started to stand up when Gracie reminded him, “I don’t need rescuing, thank you.”

  Anderson Payne, florid and panting, stood in the doorway. He held up the hardware store flyer.

  “I’m buying a humane animal trap right now!” he shouted.

  Gracie walked outside, carefully shut the screen door as her two inquisitive roommates were suddenly awake. She leaned against the door frame.

  “Oh Mr. Chronic Payne, I do wish you all the best with your future endeavors. Please, please come by again and let me know which model you’ve purchased.”

  Her neighbor looked confused. He shook his head and walked back to his car muttering under his breath the entire way.