by Tracey Quinn
“Yeah, I think so too,” Jackie agreed. “He just arrested Jolene and didn't even talk to that hunky guy in the suit who was in a screaming match with Olivia at the salon! I don't think they questioned enough people.”
“And what about that construction guy that threatened to burn down the spa last week? You think maybe he did it?” Pearl mused.
“Wait a minute,” I cut in. “What hunky guy in a suit? Who was he?”
“I don't know who he was, but Pearl sure does, don't you?” Jackie said, giggling.
“Well, I don't know of any law that says you can't get to know a guy better, Miss Prissy-pants,” Pearl retorted, blushing.
“But you took pictures of his stuff and all. I bet you're not supposed to,” said Jackie.
“What's this all about? What did you take pictures of?” I asked.
“I just sneaked some stuff from his glove box of his car, and then put it right back,” Pearl said. “The car was unlocked, I didn't break into it or anything. The guy was sort of hot, you see, but he was mad and I couldn't ask for his phone number so I looked in his glove box. I didn't keep nothing; I just took some pictures on my phone so I could look it up later.”
“It didn't do her no good,” said Jackie. “His phone number wasn't in there. We looked up the name on his insurance card on the internet and found out where he was from, but we couldn't find a phone number or email.”
“It's just as well, I guess,” Pearl conceded. “He wasn't from around here and long distance relationships don't usually work out too good.”
“Do you still have his information on your phone?” I asked. “Maybe the Sheriff should question him about his argument with Olivia.”
“Well yeah, but I don't want to get in any trouble. I mean the car was unlocked and I didn't take anything, but...”
“Here's a thought,” I said. “Why don't you show me the pictures and I'll pass the information on to my brother. That way you can help Jolene without getting in trouble.”
This plan seemed to satisfy the girls, and they showed me the pictures and told me everything they could remember about the argument while I took down the man's information on a notepad. After Pearl and Jackie left I showed Brendan the notes I had taken.
“Have you ever heard of this guy?” I asked.
“Jordan Burns from Newtown,” Brendan read. “No, can't say that I have. Did either of those two know what the argument was about?”
“No, they were in the front of the salon and the argument went down in the back, so they didn't make out enough to get a sense of what it was all about, unfortunately.”
“Well, it still may help Jolene. You're going to give this to Bob right away, right?”
“Yes, of course. Do you happen to know how far away Newtown is from here?” I asked.
Brendan turned from stirring the cheese sauce he was making for the lasagna and looked at me. “Gee, Dani, why do you want to know? Planning a vacation there or something? Maybe Mark would know where it is. I should call and ask him.”
I threw a dish towel at him. “Evil traitor,” I said. “I hope your cheese sauce curdles.”
Chapter 8
Google turned out to be as stingy with me on information about Jordan Burns as it had been with Pearl and Jackie. All I found out was that a Jordan Burns worked at a brokerage firm with a Newtown address, but no personal information was listed. I decided to call the brokerage firm and pretend to be interested in... brokering something, I guess, and see if I could find out anything about him.
A pleasant secretary with a musical voice answered the phone and I stumbled through my lame rehearsed story, but I had barely begun when she offered sweetly to connect me to Mr. Burns. A moment later I was talking to a pleasant man with a warm, friendly voice, and a moment after that I was hanging up the phone with an appointment to see Jordan Burns at his office tomorrow afternoon. It was a very efficient process, but I wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. I had a meeting, but I still knew almost nothing about him, and I wasn't even sure if meeting him would get me anywhere either. I guess I would find out tomorrow afternoon.
When I looked up at the clock it was twenty til two, almost time for my shift to end. I figured I would stop by Molly's Yarns on the way home and see what Suze could tell me about those two customers of hers. Mark was working a 24 hour shift today, presumably eating and sleeping at the firehouse which meant I could go home and not have to answer questions about my eye. With any luck at all my eye would be less swollen by tomorrow and some artistically applied make-up would do the trick. I'd pick out a tight shirt that showed a bit more cleavage than usual and I'd be home free. Men are so easy to fool.
Just then I saw Dora Crenshaw, one of the 67 year old waitresses at Hotters walk in. Normally I'd hide in the office until she left so that she wouldn't talk my ear off, but this time I hurried up to her and said, “Well hi, Dora, long time no see. Let me find you a booth.”
Dora crossed paths with a lot of the more unsavory people in town, and was only too happy to gab about them to anyone who would listen. Not usually something I'm eager to sit through, but one of the unsavory people she knew was Olivia, and I wanted to find out anything I could. Dora is a total narcissist and I knew she wouldn't ask any questions about my eye. In fact if I were in a body cast she'd be so involved with talking about herself that she wouldn't notice, or if she did notice she wouldn't care.
“What can I get you, Dora? Are you here for lunch?” I asked.
“Oh, no, Dani, just a pot of tea and a chat if you have the time.”
There's another nice thing about Dora. I am hooked on ice cold Arizona tea, but when it comes to hot tea she and I both like regular old black tea with milk and sugar. When she comes into the diner and I can't avoid her we usually share a pot of tea. A while back I had seen some really cute teapots on Amazon. They were cream colored and had these dainty blue flowers all around them, and I really wanted one. Of course I couldn't justify buying one, because I couldn't drink a pot of tea all by myself and besides, they cost $30. That's what I told myself when I was sitting in front of my computer one night just after midnight. My purse was right next to my computer, and in that purse I had that $427 tax refund that I was going to use to start a savings account. I bought twelve.
“I just wanted to let you know that Sammy didn't kill Olivia,” she said.
“Oh, I never thought ---”
And then I heard Mark's voice saying, “Mind if I join you lovely ladies?”
Oh, snap! What was he doing here? I quickly started sliding over in the booth so that he'd sit down on my right side and possibly wouldn't see my black eye.
“Don't bother, Dani,” he said. “I'll just sit here next to my favorite waitress.”
“Now, Mark, don't you be talking to me that way outside of Hotters. I know how excitable you can get in the lounge!”
“That must have been someone else, Dora,” said Mark. “I haven't been to Hotters yet, but I'm certainly looking forward to it.”
She leaned over towards Mark and said, “Oh, I get it, big boy. I must be mistaken.” She winked twice at him. Her false eyelashes made it look like a black widow spider was bungee jumping. I didn't care what she was saying as long as she kept talking. With any luck I could plead a restroom break in a few minutes and escape through the back door.
“Well, what I come in to say is that Sammy Brown didn't kill Olivia and I wanted Dani to let her brother know that I can give him an alibi,” she said.
“Why would you think Bob or the Sheriff suspect Sammy?” I asked.
“Mostly because of Pollyanna and Olivia not getting along. I don't know if you've met Sammy's new wife. She's just as nice as can be. She's his third, you know, so let's hope the third time is a charm. She is just a charming, sweet young lady.”
“I didn't know Sammy had remarried,” I said. “Where did he meet her?”
“Oh, the Pinebox Women's Wrestling Troupe came to Kettletown for a show a few months ago and Sammy went to
see it. Pollyanna was one of their most popular wrestlers. Now Pollyanna might just be a stage name. The way she describes it is that she comes out dressed like a little girl in a ruffled dress and pigtails, then when she gets into the ring she rips off the dress and the wig and underneath she has on this shiny wrestling costume with lots of sequins on it. Pollyanna is a big-boned, heavy set young woman and from the picture she showed me she could have used a larger size but that didn't seem to bother Sammy. It was love at first sight. Although I do think he liked the way she took such an interest in his business; she came down here the day after he met her, looked over his financial records, and they were married the next day.”
“That's quite the love story,” Mark said.
“But why was Pollyanna at odds with Olivia, and why would it make anyone think Sammy killed her?”
“Well, you know how some people are always sticking their nose into other folks' business; that was Olivia to a tee. Sammy started a little side business selling this brand of cars called Savage cars out of the parking lot behind the building. Well, Olivia comes in just last week and tells Sammy that he's going to have to pay her a percentage of what he sold the cars for or she'll report him to the government. Sammy argued with her, but she kept right on saying that she was gonna report him if her didn't pay her. There was a lot of yelling back and forth and Sammy said, “You ain't gonna report anybody if you got a tire iron through your skull.'
“That's when Pollyanna came in to mediate. She grabbed Olivia by the back of her collar and the seat of her pants and carried her all the way to the door that way and pitched her out on the sidewalk. Pollyanna is just like that. Why the first night I met her was in Hotters and Ned Jenkins had reached over and pinched my bum. I didn't even feel it through the incontinence panties but she saw it and didn't she body slam him to the floor, held his head down with her knee, and made it plain that he was out of line! So anyhow, Pollyanna told Sammy that he shouldn't go near Olivia any more and he tends to take her advice, them being newlyweds and all.”
“I'll be he does,” said Mark. He looked at his watch. “Good Lord, we've been enjoying our chat so much that I'm afraid we've kept you here too long. I know you're on your way to work.”
“Oh, I've got plenty of time,” she said. “I just need to stop by McGee's Supermarket and pick up some oatmeal. It makes a great facial mask.”
“Say, Dora, didn't your father own that store before the McGees bought it?” I asked.
“Why, yes he did, Dani,” she replied, leaning back in the booth, getting comfortable and folding her arms across her chest. “There's quite a story about that. Did I tell you how Sydney Crowder ruined my life? I'll start at the beginning.”
Do I know my people or don't I? Compulsive total recall, that's our Dora. It's like starting a slinky at the top of the stairs; just give Dora a nudge and she'll take care of the rest. Mark turned toward me, looking daggers. Expecting that, I turned toward the wall, hopefully fast enough that he still wouldn't notice my right eye. I poured myself another cup of tea and sat back. This should take a while.
“Well, my father was very successful at running the supermarket back then,” Dora began. “He and my mother were very happy. There was one drawback though; in those days he sold a lot of Spanish onions, and as you know, you obviously can only get authentic Spanish onions from Spain. So every month my father would have to take a trip or two to Spain to order more onions. It was a hardship but the store had to survive, so it had to be done. My late mother told me many times about the last time she saw him leaving to go to the boat. I was a baby but I was always precocious and I waved my darling little hand at him, although he drove off so fast that he didn't have time to look back. He was in that much of a hurry to get to Spain and order those onions so that our business would thrive.”
“Did you mother run the supermarket while he was gone?” I asked.
“No, dear, at the time Gene McGee just worked there bagging groceries but little by little he learned how to run the business when my poor father had to be gone. He worked hard because he knew father was so concerned about the success of the business, and before long he could run the store better than father could, him having to take so many trips to Spain. Then the Spanish Civil War took place and although my father lost his life. He died a hero.”
“You're father fought in the Spanish Civil War?”
“Oh, no, from what I understand the hotel where he had been staying came under fire and they found my father in bed on top of a woman whom he had heroically been shielding with his own body. A few months later my mother received a letter from some kind of agency in Spain. Of course, she couldn't read Spanish so she took it to the high school to see if Sydney Crowder, the Spanish teacher, would translate it for her. In spite of all those awards he would get from the State Education Department every year, Sydney was a fraud. He told mother that this agency said that my father's estate needed to send money each month for some baby. They wanted her to send it to them and I guess they meant that they would forward it to mother for me since I was father's only child. Have you ever heard of such a nonsense! Sydney's translation made no sense at all!
“My mother said that the Spanish government must want to send money to me each month for the rest of my life to show their appreciation for my father's heroism. Since she couldn't trust Sydney to send a response letter, she bought a Spanish Dictionary from Al Sholes Emporium and answered the letter herself. We never heard back, because from what I understand, people in foreign countries aren't allowed to accept letters from females. Sydney Crowder moved and took a job with the United Nations a few years later, never realizing what damage his carelessness had done to a poor widow and her darling child.”
“I'm so sorry,” said Mark. “Still if you didn't need to work, you wouldn't have the successful career in entertainment that you have now. And, not to sound selfish, but that would have been a loss to us all. Oh, gosh, I was so riveted by your fascinating story that I forgot to mention that Mrs. McGee said they might have to close early today because she has to take her grandson to his limbo instruction class at the recreation center. I hope you can make it.”
As Dora got up to go she leaned over and whispered to Mark, “I'm not trying to make a fireman hot, but Pollyanna bought thongs for all the waitresses and we start wearing them tonight. I guess I know where you'll be in a few hours.”
“Probably in an insane asylum,” he said after she left. “Now, let's see, it's 2:20 and you're off work. I guess you'll be going to your office now.”
“Well, I don't want to let this tea go to waste,” I said. “I think I'll just sit here and collect my thoughts. I suppose you're anxious to change and get out of those sweaty clothes, so I won't keep you. Not to be insulting, Mark, but Phew!”
“Oh, yes, there's a few things I want to change all right. Perhaps you and I could go to your office and chat about them.”
“Great!” I replied. “Why don't you go ahead and wait for me there? I just have to run to the restroom.”
“No problem,” he said, “I'll just wait outside the restroom door.”
Well, rats and double rats. I was fresh out of stalling techniques. Still, that ran-into-the-door thing could possibly work. After all, he couldn't prove otherwise. There was no way that he could know the truth.
We went into my office and after he closed the door, he picked me up and sat me on the desk.
“What on earth are you doing?” I asked. “You can't just pick me up and sit me on my desk!”
“And yet I just did,” he replied. He took off my sunglasses.
“Give those back!” I demanded. “Those are designer sunglasses.”
“Designer sunglasses? What designer?”
“Whoever designs glasses for the dollar store. I'd like them back right now, please.”
He was looking at my face. “Dammit all to hell and back, Dani! What were you thinking?”
He picked me up, gave me a truly memorable kiss and sat me back on the de
sk.
“I don't know whether to rat you out to Sheriff Wilkerson or kiss you senseless,” he said, shaking his head.
“If you want my opinion I think you should go with that kissing-senseless plan. I mean, you're off to a good start.”
“Did it ever occur to you that the murderer often returns to the scene of the crime?”
“Scene of the crime?” I tried to look wide-eyed and confused. Probably would have worked better if my right eye weren't swollen almost shut. “I don't know what you're talking about. My goodness, I think there's been a misunderstanding here! I know it's an old excuse, but I actually hit my eye on the door to my apartment. In fact, I'm ashamed to say the some of my eye make-up may even be on the door exactly where I ran into it. I would have cleaned it off, but my eye was painful and I wanted to put some ice on it right away. You'll see it when you get home.”
“Don't worry, I cleaned it off.”
“But... but you weren't supposed to be home till midnight. Why aren't you at work? Something might be burning somewhere.”
“Pat Duffy wanted to switch days with me so he could take the kids to the theme park tomorrow,” he said. “Incidentally, the eyebrow pencil wasn't a problem to clean off the door, but the smear of mascara was tough because it's the waterproof kind. Also, you smudged it on the door at eye level for me which would be about six or seven inches higher than eye level for you, so unless you expect me to believe that you took a flying leap into the door, it wasn't very convincing.”
Busted, dammit! Why did Pat Duffy have to be so selfish? “Listen, I can explain---”
“Since the explanation that you just gave me was a crock of the well-known article, I think I'll go with the Charlene and Jimmy version,” Mark said.
“You can't fake me out with that threat,” I retorted. “If anything did happen, which it certainly did not, Charlene and Jimmy wouldn't tell you. They have loyalty, plus I write their paychecks. How do you think you're going to beat that?”
