It's Marple, Dear

by L Mad Hildebrandt

  “You okay?” He stretched his arm and took my fingers into his.

  Not helping, I thought. I dragged my hand away, grabbed my glass and took a long sip from my drink. “Yep,” I finally choked out.

  “What were you thinking about? You seemed uncomfortable for a minute there.” He slid his boot away from my sneaker.

  “No… I mean… it’s nothing. I was just thinking about my job.” Not true, but I could hardly tell him the truth.

  “I thought your mom was your job now. So, you’re planning on leaving?” He sounded disappointed, and went back to spinning his glass.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” I began spinning mine. I glanced up at him. His mouth drew a straight line across his face. Hard. Was he angry?

  “No, really, it’s nothing,” I said. Then, changing the subject, “tell me about you. I know you’re the Sheriff, but what else? Maria said you were married.”

  “Never was,” he said, and my heart leapt. Had I been jealous of the fictional Mrs. Zonnie?

  “Then what did she mean by that? Ex girlfriend?”

  He nodded. “Trixie wanted more than I did in a relationship. And she didn’t want to live here. Wanted me to ‘spread my wings.’ Guess that meant moving to Phoenix with her.”

  “She left?”

  “Yep. She married a Mormon.”

  His foot had slid back up against mine and those roiling feelings shot through me again at the contact. Our food came and we started eating. But it didn’t ease my inner turmoil. I watched through my lowered lashes as he raised his burger to his lips and bit. Juice moistened his lips and I ached to lick it off. Instead, I took a bite of my own burger. The sudden taste of ketchup, mustard, tomato and beef gave me sensory overload as I surreptitiously watched him chew. Memories—of us sitting in these same two seats as kids—mixed with the flavor of the burger and his male scent. I took a fry, twisted it around in a pool of ketchup and mustard and nibbled the tip. I glanced up again and caught him watching. Did the raw passion in his eyes match mine? And since when did food become so sensual to me?

  He finished and I pushed the rest of mine around on my plate. We talked about our childhood memories, what music we liked, what movies, and what foods. But, I steered clear of his ex, and he, of my job. Then the alarm on my phone beeped. I shut it off. “I gotta go,” I said. “It’s time to give Mother her meds and tuck her in.” I laughed. “I’ll probably have to make her a spot of tea as well!”

  He smiled. “Probably.”

  I looked at him quizzically, tipped my head. “So why does everyone encourage her?”

  He rose, offered me his hand, and pulled me up beside him. The place was nearly empty and we strode toward the door. He held his hat loosely in his hands as he reflected. “Because she’s a fixture here, I guess. Most of us grew up with her in the lunchroom at school. So, maybe it’s because we care about her. And if this is how she is now—then that’s okay with us.”

  “That’s nice,” I said and preceded him out the door as he held it for me. Gentleman, I thought. Check. Cares about my mother. Check. But I wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to me that I check things off a list. I’m not the marrying kind I reminded myself. But still.

  “Come on,” he said and gestured at his truck. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “Thanks, but I want to walk. I need to do some thinking.” He took my hand and held it for a minute. He pulled lightly, wanting to take me in his arms? But he didn’t insist. I pulled away.

  He looked disappointed. “Alone?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  ❃ ❃ ❃

  My feet crunched in the gravel drive as I walked up to the house. The door light lit the Garfield’s front door, but mine was dark. Hadn’t I left it on? Maybe Mother had turned it off. A sense of unease filled me. I wished I hadn’t been so quick to dismiss Lonnie when he suggested a ride home. I unlocked the door and went in. “Mother?” I whispered. Like the bad guys wouldn’t hear me. Nothing. I tiptoed to her door. Maybe she was still asleep? I opened it a crack, and slipped in as quietly as possible. It was too dark. Too quiet. I reached the bed, and slipped my hand along the blanket. It was empty. “Mother?” I called louder, my voice breaking with worry.

  I backed out of the room. Something brushed against my ankles and I screamed. “Mew.” I grabbed my chest, trying to stop the erratic beat. “Football!” I said, and picked him up. I stroked him, and kissed him. That was a big nope—too much like Donna and Pinky. I dropped him to the floor. I flipped on the lights as I searched each room, until the house was a beacon of brilliance. The astronauts could probably see it from the space station, I’d turned on so many lights. Still no mother.

  I opened the door to the old workshop, and paused, listening. There weren’t any lights out here. At least none that had worked in a long, long, time. Dad had always planned on fixing it up, but it was too late for that. He was off in Costa Rica living a fabulous retirement with yet another girl half my age. “Mother?” I said the single word, tentatively. Still, no answer. I tried to remember if I’d seen a flashlight, then settled for my cell phone. I tapped the ‘on’ button, and held it out. No ghosts or goblins, but maybe spiders, snakes, and rusty nails. I picked my way carefully across the long woodshop, re-clicking the ‘on’ every time the light faded. No mother. And hey, was this place clean? The handyman again? I paused, thinking about that. Isn’t it always the handyman who does it in murder mysteries? A shiver skimmed down my back. She wasn’t in the garage, either. Oh God, oh God, oh God, I thought. Silver alert! Had she been kidnapped? Had she wandered away—a victim of her dementia? I exited by the garage doors, and crossed the patio checking each chair and the lounge with the feeble light from my cell phone.

  I shook as I shut the door. No mother. Not in the house, or the shop. I debated calling Earl or Emma. Or Lonnie. Not yet, I decided. Maybe she’d gone out with someone. Not likely, I know. But, I had left her in the company of her Solitaire friends before.

  I sat down in her chair, thinking. Where could she have gone? We had more than enough food in the fridge, and in the pantry, so I felt reasonably sure that she hadn’t gone to the big box store north of town.

  The package we had gotten in her door rested on the black game table. I headed over, and opened it up, wondering if I’d missed something that she’d somehow read differently than I had. Nothing. But scribbled on the back of the envelope was a sentence that I was reasonably certain hadn’t been there when I’d looked at it before. And, I didn’t know my mother’s handwriting. She’d never sent me a letter. I got phone calls and presents on my birthdays as I grew up. And a card, usually. But, she always relied on the preprinted sentiment, simply signing Mother. I hadn’t merited a ‘love, Mother.’

  Yep, it was definitely better being Raymond.

  I deciphered the gangly scrawl. “Meet me at the river. You know where.”

  It sounded ominous. Had Mother written it? Or someone else? Perhaps somebody had kidnapped my mother, and wanted me to meet them and fight for her life. Or what? They hadn’t asked me for anything. There wasn’t a demand for ransom. And if they’d wanted the evidence we’d received, well, they’d written the note on the envelope filled with it. No, it was probably her handwriting. It maybe looked like her signature. Didn’t it?

  I slid my cell phone into my pocket. If I needed to call Lonnie, I would. But not yet. I couldn’t be certain that mother was actually missing. Or, at least not the kidnapped kind of missing.

  I leaped into the Jeep, and tore out of the driveway. In minutes, I made it to the highway, speeding ticket free, and roared north to the Rio Grande Picnic Grounds turn off. At the bridge, I headed north again, hoping I’d figured it right. Surely, the note’s writer had meant the location where Mrs. Wilson had gone into the river. Or maybe the meeting was under the bridge, where she had been pulled out?

  I downshifted, and pulled to a stop along the trail. What if it wasn’t here at all? Mother had been doing the Marple thing for a while, according to Emma an
d Earl. Could she have enemies from some other case she’d got involved in? I crawled forward, my headlights picking out a vehicle from the shrubbery ahead. I cut the engine. I couldn’t hear a thing in the muffled night air. Nothing but the interminable gurgle of rushing water.

  I climbed out, and walked on, suddenly glad I still wore sneakers and hadn’t given in to boots. If Mother was in trouble, I could sneak up on them. Unless they’d heard the Jeep. But if they were by the river, they probably couldn’t have.

  I thought about when I’d been here with Lonnie and Mother, recalling the lay of the land. But, I had to pass the car that was pulled off the side of the trail, partly in weeds and shrubbery. Just beyond the car was the almost non-existent trail toward the river and the clearing. If they weren’t in the car, then they would be at Lover’s Lane.

  Vegetation deadened the night sounds as I snuck up to the car. It was quiet. There weren’t any movements or sounds coming from it, and the windows were rolled up. I shone my cell phone light through the glass. Nobody inside. Beer cans, food wrappers, and x-rated magazines littered the floor and seats. “Good Lord,” I whispered as dread knifed through my veins. I dialed Lonnie. I didn’t want to be out here, alone, with the owner of this particular vehicle.

  He didn’t answer, so I left a message. Crud, and more crud.

  I tread forward quietly, watchful for mountain lions, or wolves, or other night beasts, not the least of which drove up in that vehicle. Through the shrubbery, I caught movement. Moon and star light reflected off the Rio, casting two figures in silhouette. I slipped around a bush and knelt. I inched forward until I was close enough to hear. Two women, I figured. A taller one, and a short. The short had an ugly blob of hat parked on her head. Mother. I made out the dark shape of a car not far from the women. But who had driven up in the other car? A shiver slid down my backbone, and I glanced quickly behind me. Mother didn’t have a car… well, except the Jeep. So, that heap back there didn’t belong to her. And obviously not to this other woman. Maybe it was abandoned? I sure hoped so.

  I scooted closer still, trying to avoid cactus. And then I could hear words, and I knew the woman had brought Mother here. Probably forced her. So, Mother had scrawled the note.

  “No. You don’t understand. It’s not just because I was jealous. I wanted that baby. Really wanted it,” said the taller shadow. Her voice sounded harsh with anger, yet scratchy from crying. I couldn’t recognize it.

  “I realize that, my dear. But, really, you should turn yourself in. To the Sheriff, or the police.”

  This woman was the killer?

  “You have to understand,” said the shadow. “I loved her as much as they did.”

  “Emma?” I stood, and walked toward them. Those were almost the exact words she had used earlier in the day, talking to me in the gazebo.

  “Stay back!” The taller shape grabbed hold of my mother, yanked her between us, using her as a shield. Mother stood quietly. I wanted her to struggle!

  “What are you doing?” I yelled. “She’s our mother!”

  The figure laughed with a horrible, wretched sound. “No, you ninny. Raymond.” She emphasized my name. But she didn’t offer more.

  “You killed Tammy Lynn?”

  “That’s not why we’re here, Raymond,” Mother said. She tried to maintain calmness in her voice, but I could hear a strained note.

  The woman jerked Mother sharply. “Shut up!”

  Mother oomphed with pain, but she held out a hand toward me, as if to halt my forward movement.

  “Then, the other death?” I took a step, then paused. “Tonya.”

  “Leave it be, I said.” The woman sobbed piteously, caught herself, and continued. “But you wouldn’t leave it alone. You, especially, you old biddy.” She slung my mother again, and I heard a whimper of pain.

  “She’s old,” I said. “Let her alone.”

  “No,” she dragged Mother backward, toward the river’s edge. What had seemed a gurgle moments before now seemed to be a roar as the Rio rushed by. “I think I’ll take her with me.”

  I prepared to leap across the distance between us. Could I reach them before Emma and my mother fell into the river? Was it Emma? It had to be! But, I couldn’t be sure.

  A shadow darted from the shrubbery across the clearing from me, and behind the women. “Who’s that?” The woman screeched out the words, her voice hoarse from crying. She spun toward the new player, but still dragged Mother toward the river.

  I sprinted toward the women, but wasn’t as fast as the newcomer. It… he?… slammed against the two women. Mother spun away and fell hard to the ground. He landed on top of the other woman. I tripped as I reached the still shadow on the ground at their feet “Mother,” I sniffled as I gathered her against me. She didn’t say anything. And I called her name louder. “Mother!”

  “Well, that didn’t go as planned,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Anthony Romero, Lonnie, Mother, and I stood on the bank of the Rio Grande. No trace remained of the shadowy figure who had accompanied my mother to Lovers’ Lane. She’d rolled free of the entangled pile where Anthony had barreled into her, leaped into the river, and disappeared. At first light deputies would be ranged across the river, looking for a body.

  “What a tragedy,” Mother said.

  “Well, who was it?” I wanted an answer, but she had evaded our demands thus far.

  “It was a woman, that much I can tell you,” Anthony said. “But I didn’t see her face.”

  “Yeah, I got that much,” Lonnie said. He stepped forward again, trying to peer into the murky depths. But, it was simply too dark. “Mrs. M,?” he turned back to Mother. “You know you’re going to have to tell us who you were with.” She remained mute.

  “For heaven’s sake, Mother, you didn’t get out here alone! She brought you here!”

  “We’ll be able to tell from the car,” Lonnie said.

  “No, the car isn’t hers.” Mother limped back toward the picnic table and the giant shadowy lump that sat upon it. I guessed it wasn’t a rock, but her purse. I took her arm in mine, and she leaned heavily against me as we walked.

  Lonnie walked with us to the table. “This is where you were?”

  “Yes,” I said, interpreting mother’s silent nod. Fear consumed me. Was it really Emma? Is that why Mother wouldn’t say who she was with? But, if it was Emma, she was really hurting to want to kill herself in the river. Worry and dread for my sister pricked the hairs on the back of my neck.

  “What are you doing out here, Anthony?” Lonnie focused on my mother’s rescuer.

  “I been livin’ here,” Anthony said. “No one wants to rent to me.”

  “What about your people? Your Mom and Dad?”

  “I’m not thinking I want to go home right now. Every time I do, I just get into more trouble.” I glanced across the table at the man, suddenly sorry for my own behavior in the bar. It would be hard, coming home from prison after so many years. Especially when nobody would give him a chance to straighten out his life.

  Lonnie nodded. I couldn’t see his face, but I imagined the now familiar downturned corner of his lips, that meant he agreed, with qualifications. “That’s best,” he said. “But, maybe not if you live out here.”

  “Where else can I go?” Anthony’s voice grew harsh.

  Lonnie raised his shoulders. “You’re welcome to a piece of desert, Anthony. Just not this piece. It’s too close to the kids when they come out here.”

  “You think I’ll contribute to their delinquency?”

  “Anyone might.”

  Anthony scooped up a rock and threw it at the river. It plopped with a resounding splash, but he grudgingly agreed. I listened for a corresponding ouch. But if Emma was out there, she hadn’t been hit by the rock.

  “You maybe want to clean out that car of yours,” Lonnie added. “Might give the wrong idea about you.”

  Anthony stomped away, muttering. He was an angry guy. but, he’d acted heroic
ally a short time ago. Maybe he wasn’t all bad? Or maybe there were too many witnesses. Maybe he’d killed Tonya years back, then tossed Mrs. Wilson into the river a week ago… but three women this time? No, I wasn’t thinking straight. He’d saved Mother, not tried to kill her.

  “Time for you two to go as well. But, Mrs. M, you can be sure I’ll be talking to you.” I gazed searchingly at Lonnie’s face as he told us to go. But, he was all Sheriff. Any resemblance to the man I’d spent the evening with was gone. It hurt. Deep inside I could feel myself break. I tried to shake off the feelings. We were just having a little fun, right? No strings attached?

  Mother remained silent all the way home, and even after I helped her into bed. What had gone on? Was it Emma, or someone else? Why wouldn’t she tell me?

  ❃ ❃ ❃

  Mother was her usual self next morning. Or, her new normal self, anyhow. We sat at the kitchen table. I made her toast and jam and her favorite morning tea, and tried to get her to talk about the previous night. She wouldn’t, except to say that I’d arrived a bit more quickly than she’d expected.

  “But, who was it, Mother,” I kept asking. “Emma?”

  “I’m not sure it’s time yet, Raymond dear.” she patted my hand.

  “Time for what?” She was clearly in the middle of a stroke event, I thought. She didn’t want to go to the emergency room. She didn’t have any pain, and didn’t experience any of the symptoms of a stroke. But, she was confused. Of course, she had been since my arrival.

  “I had a confession last night,” she finally said. “And now we must wait.”

  “For what?” I asked again, barely keeping my exasperation in check. I almost slammed the jelly jar on the table in front of me. I sighed. She was driving me crazy. Maybe I should call Continental Geographic early and accept the job.