by Marja McGraw
“I want to. That was a terrific breakfast, and I like to earn my keep.”
Prudy took Felicity’s hand and led her from the room. Dolly and Felicity were just about the same height, and I felt like I was watching Dolly as a young woman.
With the dishes done, we headed to my house. Felicity and Prudy had already taken the box over. We found them sitting at the kitchen table, where problems are solved.
“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.” I opened the box and lifted out the folder on the top of the stack.
“What’s this?” I read the first note. Not only did Brian abbreviate everything, but his handwriting was awful.
“This says, ‘Ma mrd 2/14/43. Nbrs qst but no ans.’” This was going to be ugly. “Can you translate, Prudy?”
~ * ~
“Brian, how am I supposed to make heads or tails out of your notes? Can’t you write the words out?” Prudy asked.
“It takes too long. Besides, normally no one has to read my notes but me.” Brian took the sheet of paper out of his wife’s hands. “Here, babe, let me show you. I try to take just the most pertinent letters in a word and abbreviate. Take ‘m-r-d.’ I’m working on a murder case. M-r-d equals murdered. Get it?”
“Not really. My brain doesn’t necessarily work the way yours does. I really want to help, Brian, but this is m-r-d, murder. I’m going to need you to translate.”
“Aw, you’ll get used to it, babe. Follow the case through my notes and you’ll have it figured out in no time.”
Prudy raised one eyebrow at her husband. “Right. But at least help me in the beginning. I had no idea this is the way you wrote up your cases.”
“Okay, see this note? Try to tell me what it says.”
She read the note. “Pdy fol cps thru nbrhd lkg for anyn w/hd inj.” She glanced at her husband, not understanding.
“Okay,” Brian said, “it says Prudy followed the cops through the neighborhood looking for anyone with a hand injury. See? P-d-y is Prudy. If you pay attention, you can figure out the abbreviations.”
Prudy read the rest of that particular note. “No sus w/inj.” She began to understand. “I get it. It says, ‘no suspect with injuries.”
“Right.” Brian patted her knee. “You’ll catch on. Try some more.”
She read and translated more of her husband’s notes. It was time-consuming and annoying. “You sure you can’t just write things out?”
“This is how I do it, sweetie pie. I can use your help on this, so try to bear with me.”
“I’ll try.” She reached over and gently ran her hand down her husband’s face. “I love you, Mr. Lewis, even if you do write funny.”
~ * ~
Prudy sighed. “I told you Brian had an odd way of making notes.” She took the paper from me. “This says, ‘Matthew murdered on 2/14/43. Neighbors questioned, but no answers.’ He started out slow on this one. He wanted it solved and he made notes about every little detail.”
“This Matthew was killed on Valentine’s Day?” Felicity asked. “How sad.”
“So that was his system?” I asked. “Just pick letters out of a word and write them down?”
“Well, since he knew what he was writing about, it made sense to him. I got most of his notes figured out, but toward the end they made less sense. I think maybe he was too wound up about leaving me and Junior to go overseas.
“He said he had a pretty good idea of what happened to Matthew, but he needed proof. He was trying to take care of it before he left, but he ran out of time. In my last letter to him I asked about some of the things he’d written, but I never heard back from him.”
“Why was that?” Felicity asked.
“Brian Lewis was an MIA,” I explained. “He never came home from the war.”
“Oh, Prudy, I’m so sorry.” Felicity’s face showed her sorrow for the older woman’s loss.
“Well, those things happened. War is never a joyful event, but it happens anyway. My husband and I had some very happy times together before I lot him. And I have Junior to remind me of him. I love that boy to pieces, and he’s the spittin’ image of his father.”
Dolly was right. Prudy didn’t need any more angst. I excused myself and headed to the living room to read the note I’d found on Dolly’s porch.
Things were turning darker by the minute.
Thirty-four
“This is your last warning. Forget about Matthew Bremmer or you’re a dead woman.”
Simple and to the point. The writer wasn’t playing games and knew they could probably scare a woman in her eighties easier than me. Trying to run us off the road the night before hadn’t been meant to intimidate, but to kill.
“Felicity?” I called. “Would you bring me a cup of coffee?” I tried to sound calm, not wanting to alert Prudy that something was wrong.
She brought me the cup of coffee. I traded her the note for the cup. She read it before realizing what I’d handed her. “Oh! This is terrible.” She kept her voice low.
“Yeah. I can’t let her see it.” I needed someone to tell me I was doing the right thing by not giving Prudy the note.
“No, we’d better keep this quiet,” Felicity agreed.
“Let who see what?” Prudy asked. She’d walked up behind us and never made a sound.
“Nothing,” Felicity said, wadding the note and stuffing it in her pocket.
“All right, cookie, what did you put in your pocket? Let me see.” Prudy had her no-nonsense face on. She knew she was the “who” in this case.
“Prudy, how would you and Dolly like to spend the day with me tomorrow? I’m going to do a cosmetics job with Traci Marks. You know, the gal who holds up cards on that television game show, What’s In a Name?”
Dolly had joined us. “Really? You know Traci? We’d love to join you. Wouldn’t we?” she said, pinching Prudy’s arm. Dolly was quick. She knew we’d read the note and didn’t want her new friend to see it.
“Ow. What’d you do that for?” Prudy rubbed her arm.
“Because I want to meet Traci Marks, and so do you. You do watch that show, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but…”
Felicity placed her hands on the ladies’ backs and herded them toward the kitchen. She turned and winked at me over her shoulder. “Good. Then it’s settled. You two ladies will accompany me to the studio. You’ll need to be up very early, and you’ll need to dress up.”
Quick thinking on her part. Yes indeed, I had a feeling I had a new friend and ally. And she couldn’t have turned up at a more opportune time.
We returned to our work and Felicity seemed to understand Brian Lewis’ notes better than any of us. “I wanted to be a cryptologist when I was a kid. I love puzzles.”
It was a time-consuming job, and we didn’t rush because we were afraid of missing something. We finally took a break around ten-thirty. I’d already started a new pot of coffee brewing, and brought out the cookie jar with my favorites, chocolate chip cookies, without nuts.
Bubba was front and center when he heard me lift the lid off the jar. They were also his favorites. Chocolate is poison to dogs, so I limit him to one cookie every couple of days and that doesn’t seem to bother him.
“So, do you ladies want me to show you some of my defensive moves?” Dolly was dying to show us how to protect ourselves. It was time to let her.
“Why don’t you show them that neck thing?” Prudy suggested. “Even I can protect myself with that one.”
“Let’s finish our snack and then we’ll move out to the living room.” I needed my cookie fix before show and tell.
After snack time, Dolly headed for the living room, motioning for us to follow.
“Okay, Sandi, you put your hands around my throat like you’re going to choke me. We’ve had an argument, or you’re a masher, and you’re going to take me out.”
I stood in front of her and put my hands around her tiny throat. “Are you sure I’m not going to hurt you?”
“I’m very sure. Don’t squeeze, but try
not to let go.”
I did as she asked.
“We’ll do this in slow motion.” Dolly lifted her right arm and reached over my left arm, grabbing my right arm. She brought her other arm up and swung it hard against my arm, the one she was holding with her hand. I couldn’t hang onto her. As she swung the arm over and turned slightly, she bent it and gently rammed her elbow into me.
“Let’s try that again,” I said. “I’ll keep a firmer grip this time.”
We went through the motions again. I could not hold onto her neck.
“Awesome,” Felicity said. “Let me try it.”
Prudy laughed. “As long as someone tries to choke me from the front, I’ll be able to save myself.”
Prudy and Felicity tried it, with Prudy being the aggressor. As I watched, I realized that Dolly’s self-defense class might be worth looking into.
“What else did you learn?” I asked.
Dolly smiled, knowing she’d scored points with this Private Dick.
She put us through a few more moves, impressing the heck out of me, after which I asked her where she’d taken the classes.
“It was a one-time class that a police officer offered at the senior center. But I know they offer classes at the Community Center and other places. You really should look into this.”
“I plan on it. That first one you showed us was amazing. I honestly couldn’t keep my grip on your throat. I just hope I’m never in a position to have to use that technique.” I knew I’d look into the classes. Dolly wasn’t joking when she said she could take care of herself. Well, at least in some instances.
“9-1-1,” Felicity yelled, heading back to the kitchen. Dolly had said that if you’re in a parking lot or other public place, and something happens, to yell that at the top of your lungs to draw attention to yourself and your situation.
“9-1-1,” Prudy, the ex-smoker, croaked.
My friends were happy and the self-defense demonstration had actually entertained them. Made them feel more in control of their lives.
“Okay,” I said. “Back to work.”
We followed Felicity to the kitchen where I sat down at the table and picked up another one of Brian Lewis’ notes. Reading it, I felt my heart skip a beat.
“Stn sen nr M’s hs, nt of mrd.”
Could this be what I’d been looking for? “Look at this and see if you read it the way I do.”
Prudy read the note and passed it on to Dolly, who passed it on to Felicity.
“Stan seen near Matthew’s house, night of murder?” Felicity asked. “Who’s Stan? Obviously it couldn’t have been my Stan.”
“You’re close, but that’s not it. It says Stanton was seen near Matthew’s house the night of the murder. So someone did see Nick Stanton in the vicinity of Matthew Bremmer’s house. This makes me think maybe I’m right about thinking Stanton did it, or at the very least, was involved in the killing.” I felt it, I knew I was on the right track. I wondered whom Brian had talked to, who had seen Stanton that night.
“Okay, I know bits and pieces about the murder, but if you don’t fill me in, I’m liable to miss something important in these notes. Would someone like to tell me more of the story?” Felicity was right. We were asking her to read the notes without knowing what she was actually looking for.
I placed more cookies on a plate and set it where we could all reach it while I talked. I told Felicity everything we knew, or thought we knew. I told her about our interviews and what we’d learned. She listened, she nodded, and she understood.
“Okay, so basically you think Nick Stanton killed Matthew Bremmer on the morning of February 14, 1943. And since there were other neighbors with issues involving Mr. Bremmer, you also know it could have been someone else. So let’s narrow this down. I’ll do whatever I can to help, now that I understand the situation.” She was already reaching for another note.
“Has anyone else noticed that Stanton’s name has come up in these notes more than anyone else’s?” I asked.
Prudy nodded. “You’re right, doll, and I noticed that many years ago, too. But then Brian’s notes changed. Well, not really changed, but they were harder to read. It was like he was in too much of a hurry. His writing seemed to be less legible, and I couldn’t understand some of his abbreviations.”
“Well, maybe with four of us working on it we’ll be able to come up with something,” Dolly said.
“Where are the notes he wrote toward the end of his investigation?” I asked. “Maybe we should go ahead and take a look at those.”
Prudy pulled a folder from the bottom of the box. “I separated those and put them in here.” She handed the file to me.
Felicity pulled her chair closer to mine so she could read with me.
I handed her a small stack of notes and kept the rest in front of me on the table.
“Cal JT abt svc – Stn & bxg.”
I handed the note to Prudy. “Does this one make any sense to you?” I asked.
She read it, then read it again. “No. That’s one of the notes that I couldn’t figure out.”
“Okay, let’s try to narrow this down. I’m going to say that Brian was reminding himself to call someone whose initials were J.T. J.T. was involved in some kind of service maybe? But I have no clue what b-x-g could be, or what it might have to do with Stanton.” I knew that when I abbreviated, svc meant service of some type. Like, call the service man, or call the phone service. Stuff like that.
Prudy looked thoughtful, just before she leaped out of her chair. “I’ve got it! At least, I think I know who J.T. is.” She grabbed her cane and started pacing around the kitchen. She smiled. “I’m absolutely sure I know who J.T. is. The only problem is that I don’t know if he’s still alive. Where’s your telephone book?”
Thirty-five
I pulled the phone book out of a drawer and handed it to Prudy. She sat down at the table and began thumbing through it.
“What, or who, are you looking for?” I asked.
“I’m looking for James Thom. He was a buddy of Brian’s from when he was in the army the first time. Before he reenlisted. I can’t believe I didn’t see it when I read the notes back in forty-four. Or all the times I’ve read them since then.” She stopped at a specific place and began running her finger down the page.
“Makes sense to me,” I said. “J.T. is probably James Thom, and svc probably stands for the army – military service. But I sure can’t figure out what b-x-g means.”
“Shoot. No James Thom in the book.” Prudy leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “There’s got to be someone – ”
“He could be – ,” Dolly said.
“Shhh. I’m thinking.” And she was. I could see a faraway look in her eyes. She was trying to remember something.
~ * ~
“Brian, are you going to your poker game Saturday night?” Prudy asked.
Her husband was sitting at the kitchen table, watching her. “Nah. We’re gonna change the game to once a month. No one wants to use up the gasoline, not to mention the wear and tear on our tires every time we get together. Things are changing. I wonder if they’ll ever be the same again.”
“I’m amazed that you and your army buddies still keep in touch.” Prudy stood at the sink, drying dishes. Junior was in the backyard, trying to talk a chipmunk into coming down off the fence.
“We had some good times together. I remember when J.T. and I, you know, Jim Thom, went on leave in Manila. You should have seen… No, you wouldn’t want to hear that story.” Brian grinned, glancing away from Prudy with a faintly guilty look on his face.
“Why wouldn’t I want to hear it?” She set her dish towel down on the sink and turned to look at her husband. “Were you a baaaaad boy? Hm?” She walked over him, hands on her hips, and looked him right in the eye.
“Now Prudy – ”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Brian. I’m teasing. We weren’t even engaged yet when you were in the army.”
He kne
w his wife was joking, but it wouldn’t have been any fun if he hadn’t reacted.
She turned to walk away and he reached out, pulling her back to him, suddenly serious. “You know you’re my life, Prudy. There was no real life before you came along.”
Prudy looked surprised. Brian didn’t say things like that very often, and when he did she knew he meant them.
Her face took on the look of a woman who felt cherished – loved to the extreme. She placed each of her hands on the sides of his face before leaning over to kiss him.
“Ah, Mom,” Junior said from the back door. “Are you two at it again?” Junior’s parents turned to him, both proud of their offspring and feeling very loving.
“Someday you’re going to feel the same way I do about some lovely woman,” Brian said.
“Nope. Not me, sir. I ain’t never gonna get married.” The boy looked embarrassed.
“Don’t say ‘ain’t’,” Prudy corrected.
Her son scowled, but only briefly.
“Okay, about the poker game.” She turned back to her husband. “You said Harry Compton left the group. Who took his place?”
“You remember Melvin Shipley? He’s gonna fill in from now on.” Brian had mentioned Melvin several times when talking about his stint in the army, and Prudy had met him and his wife a few times at picnics and birthday parties. She remembered him as a blonde cutie with a sweet young dark-haired wife.
~ * ~
“That’s it,” Prudy said. “Let me check another name in this phone book.” She did some more thumbing and ran her finger down another page. “Aha! Here it is. Melvin Shipley still lives here in Los Angeles.”
“Melvin Shipley?” I had no idea where that name had come from.
“Melvin used to play poker with Brian and the boys. He’ll know what happened to J.T., I’m sure of it.
“When those boys got out of the army, they stayed in touch. Melvin moved to California from Kansas after his tour of duty. He didn’t have any family there, and these men had become like brothers. It was amazing, the way they stuck together. Why, every one of them stopped by to see if they could help me and Junior out after Brian was lost. Most of them finally drifted away though, and a few died.”
