Gore in the Garden

by Shelley Dawn Siddall

  Hazel’s house was like a beautiful but overstuffed recliner. It was very comfortably filled with antiques but also newer sculptures that could quickly be converted to cold hard cash. If Shane was a younger man, he might have gone for a more long-term relationship, because obviously Hazel had money, but with his history, he didn’t think it was wise to stay in one place for too long.

  He ran his finger along the top of what he was sure was a genuine Duncan Phyfe card table of solid mahogany. Shame, he thought.

  But he wasn’t that pool boy anymore. In the olden days, he had married a few cougars and when they got tired of him, they paid him to go away. No problem. But as he aged, arthritis was setting in along with a vague feeling he couldn’t quite pin down. As he travelled from town to town or city to city, he found himself looking at gabled houses on maple lined streets.

  He wished he could get a handle on this unsettled feeling. But enough wool gathering, on to the task at hand.

  “Well I got the stain out! That club soda did the trick, but I’ll still send my dress out to the dry cleaners. They’re so expensive, aren’t they, but worth every penny.”

  Hazel was not wearing a silk dressing gown as Shane had imagined she would be. She had on a jean jacket, blouse and jeans. Plus she was wearing sneakers.

  Hazel did not look like the frail little old lady Shane had been wining and dining the past two weeks. She looked determined.

  Even her voice sounded different when she told him to sit down.

  Shane sat down then did what he could to ease the tension. He made a little joke. “Going on a hike?”

  Hazel laughed. Not a cute old lady giggle that Shane had heard before, but a braying belly laugh.

  “Two weeks ago, I was ready to tell you to take a hike, Shane old boy!”

  Shane blanched.

  Hazel opened a drawer on a side table and pulled out a newspaper clipping and threw it at Shane.

  “Read this and then tell me what you think I did.”

  He read:

  “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!”

  Shane was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. He shrugged and shook his head.

  “I had my friend Gracie check you out! We go way back; do you know we started at Sears together?”

  Shane’s throat was dry. He managed to say, “I didn’t know that.”

  Hazel laughed. “Course, I was much older than her, but recently widowed and bored.” Hazel leaned forward and patted Shane’s knee. “I get bored easily,” she said.

  “Oh yes?” croaked Shane. He really wished he had drunk a lot more of that wine at dinner.

  “I found out you have a nasty habit of screwing little old ladies out of their money.” Her hand grabbed his knee in a death grip.

  “Don’t you even think of running away! You are going to sit here and listen to me. Picking me up at Bingo was pretty novel and very flattering. But I wasn’t born yesterday. Many a gold-digger has come around trying to win my hand in marriage when what they really want is the millions belonging to the sole owner of the Froment Hotel chain.

  “So I talked to my staff down at the Hotel and they told me you had been sniffing around earlier in the day, asking all sorts of questions about dear Mrs. Froment, and what was her schedule like these days? I phoned Gracie up and she did some quick searching; she may have used some facial recognition software I have access to because of my friends in the FBI. Do you know that my dear departed Mr. Froment assisted in several stings for the FBI? No matter.

  “Gracie delivered a rather detailed file to me within a matter hours. You have left quite a list of broken hearts behind you, along with quite a few empty pocketbooks. Now, I knew all this before we even went on our first date. So why do you think I went ahead with it?”

  Shane was, among other things, a quick study. “You were bored.”

  Hazel’s braying laughter rang out. “Right on, Shane! It’s an affliction I had, even before I was obscenely wealthy. You were hilarious! All those smarmy words and so glib at the drop of a hat! I had such fun acting like a wide-eyed ingenue!”

  Hazel put her hands under her chin and batted her eyes and smiled, “Oh Shane, how sweet of you to invite me for dinner! Oh Shane, how handsome you look in your suit. And your eyes, your eyes are incredible Shane; I could just get lost in them.” Then she giggled a high silly giggle.

  Shane’s teeth were clenched but he attempted a smile. He was not in control and it was a very uncomfortable feeling. Her acting these past two weeks was hilarious. Sure.

  “Tell me Shane, did you try to get the restaurant to compensate you for the meal by saying the waiter spilled wine on me?” Hazel asked with a grin.

  “Something like that.” Shane was afraid to speak. Hazel, in the course of the evening, had turned into a terrifying interrogator who definitely had his number. He was afraid she also was recording this conversation, so he wasn’t going to admit to anything.

  “Oh don’t worry Shane; I’m not recording us.”

  Great, Shane thought, I would try to swindle a mind reader. This is not going to end well.

  “So Shane, I have a proposition for you. It’s simple. I want to hear all about your life including your sordid life of crime. I’ve read every true crime book in the library, but to actually have a firsthand account would be marvellous. In return, you live rent free in my carriage house but during this time you will put your con man activities aside. Thoughts?”

  “I do have one or two pressing matters that may interfere with your plan.”

  Hazel nodded. “Oh, you mean the twenty grand the estate of Gertie Hansen is trying to get you to return. Well, I’ve settled that for you as a token of my appreciation. I had so much fun!”

  “Any other conditions before I take up residency?” Shane asked.

  “Nope. We’ll meet from, say three to five each afternoon and you’ll tell me an event in your life. You’ll receive a small, shall we say, stipend each month. When I’m bored, you’ll leave.”

  It didn’t take long for Shane to weigh matters and agree to her terms. Soon he was taking a tour of the carriage house with Hazel.

  “So you see,” said his new landlady, “It’s a good size, just shy of 1500 square feet. Two bedrooms, pool room, your own laundry, completely furnished, all linen, dishes, pantry is stocked, and Fritz will bring fresh groceries each week.”

  Again, Shane could barely speak.

  “Fritz?”

  “The chef. He likes to experiment with different meals each week, so he might ask if you’ll try them out. Oh yes, you can have use of the pool and tennis courts.”

  Hazel faced Shane and noticed he was breathing funny.

  “Are you okay?”

  He sat down on the nearest chair.

  “I just realized what the odd feeling is that I’ve been having lately,” he gasped.

  Hazel was intrigued. “Tell me!” she said enthusiastically.

  Shane took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I’m homesick.”

  Hazel patted his knee gently. “Welcome home,” she said sweetly, then added, “At least until I get bored.”

  That night, Shane Mitchell walked around and around his new home. He loved it. He also started making notes. He had a good forty years of material but telling about his deceptive deeds would take a lot less time then it actually took to live them. Shane was not deterred. He figured if he stretched things out, he could live on Hazel’s property for at least ten years.

  By that time, he should be in her will.

  How to Water Your Garden by Kicking the Bucket

  “I want you to read this,” Tracy insisted as she put the newspaper over Maureen’s cereal bowl.

  Maureen put on her readers and said aloud, “For all your massage needs contact Candy. I’m as sweet as can be.” She removed the newspaper from her
breakfast and grabbed the brown sugar.

  “I don’t actually need a massage right now; I just want to eat my breakfast in peace.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake Mother, the ad I’ve circled!” protested Maureen’s twelve-year-old daughter. “Here let me read it to you.” She read:

  “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!”

  “We should contact this Gracie and tell her about Grandpa!”

  Maureen ate in silence while trying to figure out how best to let her daughter down easy. Maureen’s Dad had died one year ago to the day and Tracy was sure he had been murdered by his new wife.

  “I know you loved your Grandpa hon and miss him like crazy. But I also know that the police went through everything and declared his death an accident.” She looked at her daughter who was staring at her feet. “Anniversaries are hard, aren’t they?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Tracy! Language please.”

  “Mom, let me phone and talk to this Gracie Noseworthy.”

  Maureen sighed. Her flakes were soggy.

  “On two conditions. One, you will pay for the investigator out of your savings. Two, any interviews will need to be held here at our home with me present.”

  “Oh Mom, you’ll ruin it. You’ll tell the police side of things and tell her to go away!”

  “I promise to keep my mouth shut.”

  Tracy had already dialed the number. She had the phone up to her ear when she said to her mother, “I decided I don’t want a scooter anyhow if I have to wait years until I’m old enough to drive it. I have lots of money in my savings account already so I can pay the investigator and still have money leftover to buy a keyboard.”

  “Well that’s a good instrument to learn to play the piano on. Mind you, if you intend to teach, you will eventually need a musical instrument acceptable to the Royal Conservatory of Music,” Gracie said.

  “What?” Tracy said.

  Maureen whispered, “Manners.”

  “Hi, I’m Tracy Smiley. What do you charge to investigate a murder, please?”

  “Hi Tracy. I’m Gracie Noseworthy. I charge one hundred dollars, if and only if I think there is a case.”

  “One hundred dollars a day?” Tracy was shocked.

  “No Tracy; I enjoy investigating, so I charge one hundred dollars overall plus any expenses. You do sound younger than my average client. Is it okay with your parents if you hire me?”

  “It’s just my Mom and me. She’s sitting right here, but she promised to keep her trap shut, so she can’t talk to you.”

  Maureen grabbed the phone. “Hi Gracie. This is Tracy’s Mom Maureen. I agreed not to say anything about the background of the death Tracy would like you to investigate. I would like any meetings to be held at my home though.”

  “No worries Maureen. This being Saturday, I assume Tracy is out of school. Can we meet in an hour?”

  ***

  In preparation for the Private Investigator’s visit, Tracy had changed her outfit and her hair several times. She was currently wearing green checkered leggings, a long black tunic and a short jean vest. Her hair had been sprayed and teased but was pulled back in a simple ponytail.

  Maureen felt a pang of sadness. Her little girl was growing up. Was I ever that fashion conscious at that age, she wondered. Nope, not even close.

  The doorbell rang. Tracy quickly slipped her stocking feet into a pair of black lace up ankle boots and raced to the door.

  “Impressive,” she said to Gracie Noseworthy.

  As the client and the investigator came into the living room, Maureen could not believe what she was looking at.

  An older woman, quite beautiful, with long silver hair in a simple ponytail entered with Maureen’s daughter. Of course this was Gracie Noseworthy, but the surprising thing was that she was wearing green leggings, a black tunic and a jean vest. She too was wearing lace up ankle boots.

  Gracie broke the ice. “Good to know I dress like a fourteen-year-old,” she said with a chuckle.

  “I’m only twelve and I think you look stylin’.” Tracy pulled out a notebook. “Shall we go over my notes?”

  Maureen stifled a giggle.

  “One year ago today, my Grandpa, Robert Smiley died. I think it was murder and let me tell you why. He always put his garden hose away and this time he didn’t. He always would turn the tap off then spray out the rest of the water until the hose curled up and then put it in a plastic bucket.” Tracy set her jaw. “People who say it was an accident are just stupid!”

  Gracie took Tracy seriously and opened her own notepad. “And if it is not too painful, Tracy, can you tell me how your Grandpa died?”

  “Well, the police say it was an accident, but obviously I don’t think so. He was out in the morning really early watering his garden. For some reason he had to go down to the basement and when he got there he slipped in some water, fell down and drown.”

  “Drown?” Gracie asked.

  “Yes. They say he accidentally kicked the bucket, knocked it over, and broke the basement window. They say he went into the basement to pick up the pieces of glass, but he forgot to turn off the tap and all this water ran into the basement.” Tracy read something in her notebook. “Did you know you can drown in four inches of water? I didn’t believe it at first, but it’s true, I looked it up.”

  “Why do you want to re-investigate now? Has anything happened this year, or even this week that makes your Grandpa’s death more suspicious?”

  Tracy glanced at her Mom. “It’s Grandpa’s wife. She makes the most terrible jokes about Grandpa. I get the reference to ‘kicking the bucket’ but it’s sick the way she laughs about it.”

  “She always makes that joke,” Maureen said.

  “Mom! You said you’d be quiet!”

  “Sorry.”

  Gracie and Maureen exchanged a knowing look. “Please go on, Tracy. What else is bothering you?”

  Tracy’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t tell you this before Mom, but I heard Sheree…” Tracy explained, “That’s Grandpa’s wife. Anyway, I heard Sheree telling someone at the grocery store, “Yeah my husband got hosed!” And then the person said, “Was that before or after he got life insurance?” And Sheree said, “Definitely after!” and then she laughed in that sick way she does.”

  Gracie felt sad. It did sound like Sheree Smiley wasn’t a nice person, but it didn’t sound like murder. Tracy was staring earnestly at Gracie. Poor kid. “Anything else?” Gracie asked.

  “Sheree’s friend then said, “Was that before or after he found out about you and the trainer?” And Sheree says, “Coincidentally, not too long after.”

  Gracie wrinkled her forehead. “I’m just not seeing any evidence of foul play here, Tracy. Sure, it sounds like this Sheree is a rotter, and is treating your Grandpa’s memory scandalously, but I can’t take your money.”

  Tracy burst into tears and threw her notebook on the floor. Gracie reached down to pick it up and noticed the drawings on the inside.

  “What’s this?”

  The young girl sniffed, then went and sat beside Gracie.

  “This is an experiment I did at Grandpa’s yesterday. Yes Mom, I know I was supposed to be in school, but I had two study periods and biology. I’m acing biology anyway. Sheree said I could water the garden if I wanted to. She doesn’t take care of it, but a lot of his perennial flowers are still living because we had such a rainy spring. Oh, and his strawberries!”

  Gracie tapped the page. “Is this the window?”

  “Yup. See, Grandpa had a system. First he’d water the flowers in the front yard, then the flowers and veggies in the back.” Tracy confided, “Grandpa always said he liked to water the plants himself, but Mom and I think he was too cheap to put in an underground sprinkler system. Anyway, after he watered everything, now this is important, he would go and turn
the tap off. Then, he would water the little red maple which is right across from the tap. He would do that until the hose shrunk and then plop the hose in the plastic bucket. There is no way that hose could break the window.”

  Gracie raised her eyebrows. “How does a garden hose shrink?”

  “He had one of those new ones that expand when you turn the water on. I measured it yesterday. The original size is fifty feet, but it expands to three times that size when the water is turned on. Grandpa always kept his in a bucket because you’re supposed to keep it out of the sun; it says so in the instructions.”

  “I’ve seen them advertised on TV.” Gracie rubbed her jaw. “But I’m just not getting the picture. Look, I think a field trip is called for. I have underground irrigation in my backyard, but I have been thinking of getting one of those hoses for all my hanging plants. Let’s go get one, no expense to you and we can re-enact your Grandpa’s watering routine at my place.”

  Maureen and Tracy were ready to go in minutes. As they piled into Gracie’s silver car, Tracy said approvingly, “Lux.”

  “I take it that’s a good thing?” Gracie whispered to Maureen.

  Maureen nodded, but then whispered a warning, “Don’t be surprised if you get mistaken for her Mother because you’re dressed the same.”

  Gracie said in the same quiet tone, “It would be an honor.” Gracie then raised her voice and addressed Tracy in the backseat, “My car will not start until everybody does up their seatbelts.”

  “Really?” Maureen whispered.

  Tracy leaned forward and whispered between the two women, “No Mom, she’s just saying that, so we’ll do up our seatbelts. I have excellent hearing you know. You can stop your whispering already.”

  Gracie started the car and then said in a loud whisper to Maureen, “Do you think she can still hear us?”

  “Oh I doubt it.”

  Tracy yelled from the backseat. “I’m rolling my eyes I’ll have you know!”