by Marja McGraw
“Not really.” The idea of children was a discussion that Pete and I had been skirting around for a long time. I’m in my thirties. Do I want to have children at this age? Pete’s older than me. Did he want them?
I shook my head, not wanting to think about children. I had something more pressing on my mind at the moment. Did I want to take on this woman’s problem? I’d solved old murders before by using letters in one case, and a sheriff’s old journal in another.
I glanced at Pete just as he turned to me.
Before we could say anything, Bea said, “Come on in for dinner. I’m a great cook.”
I had a feeling she wanted to change the subject and give us time to think things over. Smart woman.
We followed her inside to the dining room where two places were set. The table held a casserole, veggies, a salad and a fruit plate. She’d included baguettes and butter.
“I think you should sit down and eat with us. You’ll be busy this weekend when others arrive, so relax for now.” I tried to put her at ease. I’d been a bit outspoken up to this point.
She didn’t hesitate. “Okay. You know, you remind me a little of your mother. She’s speaks her mind, too.”
Pete laughed. “Oh, yes, both women always let you know exactly where you stand in their minds.”
“You love our attitudes and you know it.” I patted his back.
“Uh huh.”
Bea disappeared and returned shortly with another place setting.
“Please help yourselves.” She waited for us to make the first move.
Pete began filling his plate. “This smells good. What is it?”
“It’s called Company Casserole. You’ll like it. What would you each like to drink?”
“More iced tea, please.” Two things I love in life are tea and chocolate. Chocolate won out over tea, though.
“Just water for me, with ice, please.”
Bea brought our drinks and motioned for Pete to start eating. He consumed about twice as much food as I could eat, but that was typical.
“Will you have help to run the B&B?” I picked up a baguette and slid the butter dish toward myself.
“Yes. I have two nieces who’ll be here tomorrow to help me prepare the other rooms and finish getting things set up. They’ll each be working part-time. You’ll like them. They’re good girls.”
“I’m sure they are. Do they know what you want me to do?” I asked.
“Of course. They’ll help in any way they can. Kimberly’s been trying to dig up some dirt on Bonnie… Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put it that way.”
“Not a problem.” Pete took a last bite of the casserole. “That’s exactly what we’ll be doing; digging up the dirt.”
“One thing she found out is that the murder weapon was never found. I mean the knife. As for the beating, I don’t know if something was used or if it was bare fists that killed her, assuming what I read was right and the beating actually killed her. It could have been the stabbing, though.” Bea stood and picked up her plate before coming around the table and picking up our plates and silverware.
“Maybe I can find some information at the local library,” I said. “I’m sure they must have something about the history of Battle Ground.”
Pete patted his belly, happy with the dinner Bea had served. “Why was the town named Battle Ground?”
“Long story short, there was supposed to be a battle between the Indians and the soldiers. A group of Indians left their encampment and headed for the Cascade Mountains. The soldiers from Fort Vancouver followed them. They caught up to the Indians in what is now the Battle Ground area. After the soldiers talked the Indians into returning to their home, Chief Umtuch died. I’m not sure if he was killed or sick or what. Anyway, the Indians wanted to bury him according to their customs, and the soldiers returned to their fort in Vancouver. So there never was a battle, but the Battle Ground description stuck.”
“Interesting.” Pete loved a good story.
Bea headed for the kitchen with our plates. “I’ll be back with dessert in a minute. I hope you both like peach-apricot cobbler.”
“Love it,” I called after her.
“Nice lady,” Pete said.
“Yes, but she kind of put us on a spot, don’t you think?”
Pete shrugged. “Like your mother, I know you can’t pass up an unsolved murder. What is it Rick calls you? Oh, yeah. A dead body magnet.”
Rick is Pete’s closest friend, aside from Stanley, and he’s a homicide detective. He knows I have a penchant for becoming involved in cases. Actually, it seems like they follow me – the dead bodies, that is.
Bea returned with the tastiest cobbler I’d ever eaten, topped with whipped cream.
We tabled her request for our help, at least for a while.
“Bea, that was great.” Pete pushed his chair back. “You weren’t joking when you said you’re a good cook. I can’t wait to find out what you have going for tomorrow.” He excused himself and walked out to the porch.
Bea and I looked at each other, almost sizing each other up.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I can tell you more when I find out how much information is available to us.”
“I can’t thank you enough for even considering doing this for me.” She looked almost relieved, but not quite.
I nodded and contemplated the fact that we were talking about the murder of a famous actress. You’d think there’d be more information available than the few things Bea had mentioned.
Old murder, small farming community, fewer records than in a large city. I hoped there were people still living in the area that I could interview.
Uh oh. I was already hooked, and I knew it.
I saw Pete standing on the porch, watching me and smiling. He knew it, too.
Chapter Three
After the first honeymoon evening Pete and I should have had long ago, I had trouble sleeping. I should have been completely relaxed, but I wasn’t.
Pete lay beside me, gently snoring.
I stared at the ceiling.
Bea had only mentioned in passing that some people thought the house was haunted, and yet I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I don’t believe in ghosts. Never have, never will. However, every little noise in the night made me wonder, but I kept reminding myself that it was an old house and I was probably hearing settling noises.
I’d have to remember to ask our hostess where the murder occurred.
That’s the last thought I remember before waking up early the next morning.
~ * ~
Bea worked in the kitchen while Pete and I ate breakfast. She was spoiling us, or bribing us, with food. We had bacon and eggs with toast, fried potatoes and, according to Bea, homemade preserves. Once again there was a fruit plate to balance things out.
While we ate I told Pete about the noises during the night.
Apparently Bea had good hearing. “It was just the house settling,” she called from the kitchen.
Pete laughed. “You won’t get away with much around here. Bea has her finger on everything.”
“Why don’t we head for the library this morning and see if we can find books on Battle Ground history. I can peruse those tonight while we’re relaxing. I’d like to go into town, too, and window shop at some of the stores. Maybe we can stop in at the coffee house for lunch.”
“They serve great sandwiches there.” Bea was still in the kitchen cleaning.
The front door opened and two young women walked in. They smiled at us and continued into the kitchen.
I heard some whispering before Bea returned with the women following her.
“These are my nieces, Kimberly and Sasha Balashov. Did you know there’s a large Russian population here in Washington? Anyway, I thought they should meet you. They’ll help you in any way they can.”
“Good morning,” Sasha said.
“How are you today?” Kimberly asked.
“We’re good. Thank you for
asking,” I replied.
Both women were tall and slender, unlike their stocky aunt. Kimberly had short, curly hair, dyed one of the popular reds of today. Sasha had long, light brown hair, much like mine. Both of them were soft-spoken. I noticed that Sasha wore an engagement ring.
Pete stood and shook their hands. “I hope you two are ready. Sandi can be a tyrant when she needs information.”
“Oh, Pete. Knock it off.” I smiled up at him before turning to the women. “He teases me a lot. Well, maybe he’s right. I can be demanding.”
The two women pulled out chairs and sat down at the table.
“Tell us what you need and we’ll see what we can come up with,” Kimberly said. “We have connections in this town.”
Sasha laughed. “Yeah, sure we do. We were born and raised here. We know everybody. I don’t know if you’d call the people we know connections or not, but we know a lot of the old-timers. A few would have been old enough to remember what happened to that actress in the thirties. Others have heard stories.”
“Good,” I said. “Maybe you can introduce me to a few.”
“Here we go.” Pete mumbled under his breath, but we all heard him.
The girls chuckled and Bea, who’d walked out from the kitchen, rolled her eyes.
She placed her hands on the girls’ shoulders. “Okay, lots to do before the weekend. You can talk to the Goldbergs later. Let’s get to work.” She returned to her tasks in the kitchen.
Kimberly walked around the table and stopped next to my chair. “By the way, I brought my laptop if you need it. It’s in my car. You know, for research. I’ll leave it here.”
Sasha stayed on the other side of the table. “And I brought a folder with newspaper articles about the murder. They’re pretty interesting. You don’t expect a murder to take place in a little town like this.”
“Thanks.” I had to give them credit. They’d come prepared.
“It doesn’t matter where you are,” Pete said. “Unfortunately, crimes happen anywhere and everywhere.”
“Not on my watch,” Bea called from the kitchen.
The girls snickered while Pete and I simply looked at each other.
The women hurried to the kitchen and turned to the right, returning shortly with cleaning supplies. With the energy of the young, they hurried upstairs to begin their jobs. I heard one of them whistling, while the other one sang the words to a cheerful song. They had great attitudes for early in the morning.
Pete held out his hand to help me out of my chair. “Let’s head for the library.”
I nodded. “Let me get my purse.”
Bea rushed out of the kitchen, holding her hand out. “Here. You can use my library card.”
“Thanks!” I hadn’t thought about needing a card, and took hers from her hand.
She gave us directions to the library, which wasn’t too far away and a little off the beaten path. After spending so much time in large libraries in Los Angeles, it was a treat to walk through the aisles of a small library.
A woman at the front desk was friendly and knowledgeable in helping me find what I was looking for, and in fact, talked about a local newspaper that might have more information.
There weren’t many books on local history in the thirties, but I found a couple that might be of help. I also found a biography on Bonnie Singleton. It would help the investigation to learn more about the victim.
I put the few books I’d found in the back seat of the car. Our next stop would be downtown Battle Ground.
We decided to park in the middle of town and walk to all the shops we were interested in. There were a number of antique stores. My own home had belonged to my great-great-great-grandparents, and it was well over a hundred years old. It was calling my name and saying it needed more antiques. You never know what you might find in a vintage store that would brighten your home.
We visited two and I picked up a few small items, including a small white sugar shaker with blue figures that reminded me of Dutch children painted on it. Its size and shape reminded me of a salt shaker, but the word Sugar was part of the design. It was a small thing, but I instantly fell in love with it. I kept a Lazy Susan on the kitchen table with salt and pepper shakers, napkins, and a few other things on it. This would only add to my kitchen décor.
I chuckled at myself for thinking of it as décor.
The third antique store was another matter. As we walked down an aisle, I found a section with a sign sitting on a table. It said, Bonnie Singleton Memorabilia.
Pete was perusing the other side of the aisle, but when he heard me say “Bingo,” he turned quickly. I hadn’t realized I’d said it aloud.
“What?” He joined me and grinned when he saw the sign. “Oh. I’ll bet you’re in P.I. heaven right now.”
“You have no idea.” I started studying every item in the display.
A saleswoman joined us. “Have you ever heard of Bonnie Singleton?”
“Oh, yes. We know the story of her short life. Where did these things come from?” I asked.
“Well, it’s a long story, but I’ll give you the short version. After her demise, all of her personal belongings were gathered up and placed in boxes which were stored in the attic. The last owner of the house was transferred out of state and left everything there except his own property, telling the Realtor she could have what was left. The Realtor had to clean out the house and ran across these things. She’s not an antique fan and considered it old junk, so she brought the boxes to me.”
I shook my head. “Some people just don’t understand the difference between junk and antiques or memorabilia. I have an attic that was full of stuff. I found some interesting things when I cleaned it out. There are still a few boxes I’ve never gone through.”
She nodded her understanding. “It can be an overwhelming job. The new owner has turned it into a Bed and Breakfast. She kept some of the original furniture. The Realtor left it inside so the house wouldn’t look empty.”
Pete wandered off to look around.
“I’m familiar with the B&B. That’s where we’re staying for the next week.”
She smiled. “You’ll love Bea. She’s a treasure, just like that house. Well, I’ll leave you alone so you can look everything over. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I’ll be at the front desk.”
“Thank you,” I called after her.
Even though I knew the items had belonged to Bonnie Singleton, most of them weren’t too interesting, or so I thought until I saw an old photo album.
I was walking toward it when Pete startled me. I hadn’t heard him approach.
“Sandi! Are you about ready to go?”
I swung around and my purse knocked a couple of things off a table, including a vase and a wooden box. The vase broke into several pieces, and the lid broke off the box. It was filled with photos and papers.
I sighed. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
I picked up the pieces of the vase and the box, shoving the loose items back into it, just as the saleslady came hurrying up the aisle.
Before she could say anything, I spoke up. “I’ll take these. And I’d like that photo album, too.” Taking a quick look around, I picked up a figurine of a woman dressed in a typical thirties dress.
The saleswoman smiled. “I appreciate your honesty. You don’t really have to take the things you broke.”
“No, no. I broke them and I’ll buy them.”
The woman shrugged and picked up the figurine and album, making me feel she was afraid to let me touch them before I paid for them.
“Good going, Sandi. I hope they’re not too pricey.” Pete sighed, mimicking my habit.
When I reached the front counter, the woman handed me a paper bag to put the broken pieces in.
While she rang up the sale, I found myself asking questions.
“Do you know anything about the murder? Or do you know anyone who might have information about the crime?”
“As a matter of fact, I k
now a little, and I can give you the name of someone who knows more than most of us. What’s your interest, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’ve been hired to try to solve the old case. I’m a private investigator.”
I could have sworn I heard her say, “A clumsy one,” under her breath.
Pete laughed and her face turned red.
Chapter Four
I paid for my purchases and swallowed my pride, asking more questions.
It turned out the woman didn’t know much other than a little of local legend, but she gave me the name of a man who’d followed the investigation closely.
“You’ll want to talk to Bradley Singleton, and before you ask, he’s not related to the woman, but he was a big fan. Bea can tell you how to find him.”
She wrapped my figurine while she talked and put the photo album inside another bag to keep it safe.
Handing me my bags, she thanked me for my business. “Yes, Bonnie’s death is the biggest scandal to ever hit this town. I kind of hope you find out what happened. You know, curiosity comes and goes, and you’re stirring things up, so here it comes again.” She laughed at her little joke.
“I’ll do my best.”
Pete laughed with her. “It sure has stirred up Sandi’s curiosity.”
I handed Pete the bags and chose to ignore both of them as I walked out of the store.
He caught up to me quickly. “The woman in the store made a few remarks after you left. She actually hopes you can solve this, and she thinks you’re a cutie. So do I.”
“I’m not a cutie. I’m a private investigator, and don’t you forget it.” I had no idea why I was in such a mood, and I didn’t like it. “I’m sorry, Pete. Sometimes I feel like you forget what I do for a living. It’s silly, I know.”
“I never forget what you do, but sometimes I try to lighten the load for you. It seems like we can’t even take a getaway trip without someone wanting to use your expertise. Don’t you get a little tired of that? No, I guess you wouldn’t. There’s nothing you enjoy more than putting the pieces together.”
“You know me so well.” I smiled at him. “Maybe just this once the idea of someone wanting me to solve a case got on my nerves. Like I said, my mother will be hearing from me.”
