Murder in the Pachysandra

by Linda A. Lavid

  Muriel shrugged.

  “Point is, Muriel, I didn’t see Jason. I saw his body.”

  “Yes but—”

  “Bodies don’t walk.”

  “Sorry Hattie, I’m kinda lost.”

  “He didn’t go into my yard. His body was dumped there.”

  Muriel’s eyes grew. “Dumped?”

  “Yes. Consider this. You go to Winnie’s and buy a bag of groceries. On your way home, you have a heart attack, fall and die. What happens to your bag of food?”

  Muriel shrugged. “Umm. Is this a trick question?”

  “No.”

  “I suppose the bag falls. Depending how it hits the ground, the oranges roll out and some eggs break. Um…Where we going with this?”

  “Point is the bag of groceries will be close to you. Not in a dumpster a half block away.”

  “Of course! So, what did the detective say when you brought this up?”

  “He suggested either Jason threw the papers out or someone found them and tossed them away.”

  “Broken record.”

  “Anyway, Muriel, this changes everything. If Jason’s body was dumped, he must have been killed somewhere else.”

  “Wowsa.”

  Hattie looked carefully at Muriel. She didn’t want to upset her friend, but it had to be brought up. “Now, if Jason’s body was dumped in my yard but he delivered our papers and didn’t seem to go beyond our street what would this mean?”

  Muriel’s face scrunched up. “That he was murdered after your house?”

  Hattie nodded.

  “You mean at the Webers? But they’re in Arizona. OMG Hattie, he was murdered inside their house then dumped into your yard.”

  “Possibly.”

  Muriel’s face became solemn. “Someone needs to go over there. Maybe there was a break-in. We could check the doors, windows.”

  “I have a key.”

  An impish smile spread across Muriel’s face. “Screw the stew. It’s hammer time.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ten minutes later, Hattie and Muriel stood at the front of the Webers’ home. The night air smelled wintry. Lights in two windows illuminated the home like a carved pumpkin.

  “Gee, Hattie, do you think he was actually murdered inside?”

  Hattie blinked hard. She didn’t want to think so, but what was the alternative? “I don’t know. We have to find out.”

  Muriel nodded. “I hope there’s no blood.”

  Hattie stayed quiet.

  Muriel looked at her friend. “What are you thinking?”

  “If Jason had been given drugs there’d be evidence. Needles. Needle caps. We need to check wastepaper baskets, garbage pails.”

  “Yes. And we might find razor blades, spoons, matches.”

  Hattie agreed. “And let’s not forget the floor. It was terrible that morning. Mud and leaves could have been dragged in.”

  “Right.” Muriel gazed at the house. “Those lights. Could someone be in there?”

  Hattie shook her head. “They have timers.”

  There were two ways inside, the front and side doors. Getting into the basement was unlikely since the Webers had replaced their basement windows with glass blocks. Hattie had heard all about the installation since Mrs. Weber, a hawk for discounts, was particularly fond of talking about how much things cost and how much money she saved.

  “Before we head to the side door, I want to see if the front door is locked.”

  “What if it opens?”

  Hattie hadn’t thought about that. After her earlier confrontation calling Ted was out of the question. A solution popped up. “We’ll call 911 and report a break-in.”

  “Got it. Come on.”

  On the porch, Hattie opened the storm door and jiggled the knob. It didn’t budge. Standing on toes, she peered into one of the three small windows embedded in the hulking wooden door. The narrow vestibule was dimly lit from another room. A pair of boots were paired on the floor; several umbrellas sat inside a stand. If a body were lugged out this way, it would have been a narrow fit, not to mention, foolhardy since the chance of being seen was likely.

  Muriel peered over Hattie’s shoulder. “Looks kinda normal.”

  Hattie agreed and the two women descended the front steps.

  At the side door, Hattie tugged at the knob. It didn’t budge. She rummaged inside her pocket and pulled out a key. “You ready?”

  Muriel’s breath came out in short puffs. She nodded.

  The key turned easily. Hattie held her breath. They entered.

  There were two flights of stairs––one up, one down.

  “Which way?” Muriel said.

  With a hammering heart, Hattie flipped the light switches. Light flooded both staircases.

  “We’ll start with the basement.”

  They headed down, taking one step at a time. Slowly the basement came into full view.

  The finished room was an extended living space, clean and uncluttered. A big screen TV hung on the wall in front of a large couch. A desk with a computer was positioned at the farthest end.

  “Have you ever been down here?”

  “No.”

  “Clever,” Muriel said.

  “What?”

  Muriel pointed. “It doesn’t look anything like a basement because they ran full length curtains over the windows.”

  Hattie stood back. “Yes. I see.”

  Muriel began circling around the room as Hattie headed over to a door. With a deep breath, she reached for the knob.

  It was the utility room. The furnace and hot water tank were neatly tucked away. She looked at the concrete floor. Not a speck.

  “OMG,” Muriel yelled. She was standing by the computer.

  Hattie scurried over.

  “Hattie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “I didn’t think they’d mind.”

  “Did something break?”

  “No, no. The computer. I think I turned it on.”

  Hattie walked around the desk. The screen was lit up with a bright picture of purple flowers.

  “I just reached over for some M&Ms.”

  On the desk was a large glass bowl filled with snack packs.

  “And suddenly this thing comes on.”

  Relieved, Hattie said, “Don’t worry Muriel. Just turn it off.”

  “Right.” Muriel leaned forward. “I don’t see any buttons. Do these things turn themselves on?”

  Hattie shrugged.

  The two women peered at the screen.

  “Muriel, maybe we could unplug it.”

  “Good idea.” Her friend peered below. “It’s a snake pit down here.”

  Hattie took a gander. It was a tangled mess. She looked for a wall outlet. Finding it, she reached over and pulled the one electrical cord that was plugged into the socket.

  “That did it!”

  Hattie looked at the screen. It was black.

  “They must have forgotten to turn off their computer.” Muriel pocketed the candy. “Doesn’t look like anything happened down here.”

  Hattie agreed and they headed up the stairs.

  At the first-floor landing, Hattie flipped on more switches. Like a scene in a play, various sections of the room lit up. It was an open floor plan.

  Muriel walked in and spun around. “Wow. What a showplace.”

  Hattie’s glance ran over gleaming stainless steel and shiny countertops. She looked at the tile floor for remnants of leaves, scuffs or any indication that people had been in the room. Nothing. Hattie sidled up to the sink. She touched the bottom and sides. Dry.

  Hattie called out to Muriel. “Notice anything?”

  “Nice china.”

  Hattie opened the cupboard beneath the sink. The trash bin was empty. Moving along, she peeked inside cupboards, drawers, the refrigerator. Cans, paper products, plastic containers, pots, pans, bowls, condiments were all neatly arranged as was the junk drawer with its slotted compart
ments. No doubt about it the Webers were organized.

  Hattie joined Muriel. They pulled out chairs, turned over cushions, checked more drawers. The only item out of place was a candy wrapper balled up inside a decorative bowl.

  “Should we go upstairs?”

  “May as well.”

  “Right. Leave no stone unturned,” Hattie said.

  There were three bedrooms and one bathroom on the second floor. Except for an opened closet door, each room had no indication of foul play––beds were neatly made, wastebaskets empty, towels tidily folded and draped.

  “Clean as a whis—” Hattie stopped cold. Heavy footsteps climbed the stairs.

  The women exchanged glances.

  “Who’s there?” Hattie yelled.

  No answer.

  Muriel reached for Hattie and whispered. “What’ll we do?”

  Hattie froze.

  A disembodied male voice said. “Who’s been sleeping in my bed?”

  Moments later a familiar figure stepped onto the landing.

  Muriel slumped against the wall. “Ralph, you scared the bejesus out of us. What are you doing here?”

  “I saw two people in the window. At first, I wasn’t sure who you were.”

  Muriel patted down her hair. “Really?” She batted her eyes. “We had makeovers. What gave us away?”

  “I put on my glasses. So, what’s going on?”

  Hattie spoke up. “The Webers had heard about the storm and wanted to know if there was any damage.”

  “Is there?”

  Muriel rushed in. “Tight as a drum. Dry as a bone. Shipshape. Right Hattie?”

  “Did you check all the rooms?”

  “Yep,” Muriel said, looking at Hattie. “We’re done here. Right?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Great.” Muriel brushed her hair aside. “Ralph, we just had dinner, there’s plenty. I could—”

  “I went out for wings.”

  Muriel’s smile froze. “Oh. No problem.”

  The three trundled down the stairs. As Hattie locked up, Ralph asked. “Did you hear the wake is tomorrow? If you want to deliver the card to Jason’s family, I could take you.”

  It was an unexpected opportunity Hattie hadn’t considered. Finally, she’d get a chance to speak with Jason’s family. “Yes. Thank you, Ralph. I’d like to go.”

  Muriel piped in. “So would I.”

  Ralph looked at both women. “Okay. Can you be ready around one?”

  “One o’clock. Perfect. Right Hattie?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  At Hattie’s house, the three separated. Walking up the driveway, she felt heavy, weighted. Whatever hope she had about finding clues at the Webers were dashed, replaced by something far more disturbing. If Jason delivered the papers but didn’t die there, where else on the block could it have happened?

  Bone-chilled, she wrapped her coat tighter.

  Chapter Sixteen

  On the couch after another restless night of tossing, Hattie reached for the comfort of Lucy. In response, the cat stood, stretched, then sat on the edge of the cushion, looking dismissively into the semi-darkness. Hattie glanced over to Orin’s picture. His pleasant smile was lost in the shadows. Moments later, Lucy jumped down. Hattie watched as the cat meandered along the rug, over to a dish of water, to then jump on the table where Orin’s picture rattled. Suddenly she got an idea.

  After a wash up, Hattie was at the dining room table with a cup of tea evaluating her recently drawn map of Woodberry, her yard, and the plaza delivery road. Each square represented a house, the added Xs for points of interest––location of Jason’s body, the dumpster.

  Hattie considered the view of the access road. It ran the full length of Woodberry with her property located midway between the two ends. Clearly, for someone to have carried a body down the road defied logic. Jason’s body must have been taken there by car.

  Out of nowhere, she heard a key in a lock. Moments later, Howie was standing next to her.

  “Ma. What did you do to your hair?”

  Hattie reached up and felt how it poked out. “Roxanne says it’s the latest.”

  “The latest, huh?” He stood back and gave her a once over. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  Hattie felt her face flush. “And I don’t have to use pin curls or rollers. It’s a whole new world.”

  Howie smiled and looked around. “So, where is it?”

  “Where is what?”

  “Your necklace.”

  “Necklace?”

  “Ma, you promised to wear it.”

  “Howie. Of course, I wear it. It’s just that... I was brushing my teeth and it was getting in the way.” He didn’t need to know she had tossed the darn thing in the junk drawer. “You stay here. I’ll go get it.”

  He put his hands up. “Ma, don’t bother right now. But just so you know, I’m going to keep stopping by. Unannounced. And I want to see that thing on you. Understand?”

  Hattie didn’t like his tone. She didn’t respond. “I’m going to the wake later. Ralph is escorting me and Muriel.”

  Her son smiled politely. Too politely. Goshdarnit, Ralph was still talking to him. “So what else did he tell you?”

  “Tell me? Who?”

  “Ralph.”

  Howie capitulated. “Okay. He said you went over to the Webers’ house to see if there was any damage.”

  “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “The storm was days ago.”

  Hattie needed to change the subject. “Howie, does a computer turn itself on?”

  He thought for a moment. “Depends if it’s in sleep mode.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It just means when you’re not using the computer, it shuts down and the screen goes black to save energy.”

  “I see. And how do you wake it up?”

  “Touch a key. Move the mouse.”

  “The mouse?”

  “Yeah. It’s this little…Ma, why do you want to know?”

  Hattie was lost for words, let alone a reason.

  He looked his mother with disbelief. “Do you want a computer?”

  She rushed in. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Hattie didn’t have a clue. “We could email each other.” After the words left her lips, Hattie chided herself. The lies were getting easier.

  Howie reeled back. “Email?”

  “Yes, it would be fun. I could check in with you every day. It’s not that hard to learn, is it? I was an ace secretary before I met your father. It would be fun to type again.” Lordy, she was really laying it on.

  “How about I bring over my laptop? You can take it for a test ride.”

  “Great idea!”

  On his way out, Howie glanced at the dining table. “What’s this?”

  “Ah…a treasure map. A silly game between me and Muriel.”

  “Mmm. Interesting.”

  He didn’t seem convinced.

  At the back door, he said, “Ma, please wear the necklace.”

  “To the wake?”

  “Okay, if you’re with somebody, don’t bother. But otherwise, wear it. Promise?”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t let me down.”

  “Me? Never.”

  An hour later, Hattie was upstairs. She had taken a bath and was considering the two dresses she had plucked from the closet. Unsure if she should wear black or navy, she thought about jewelry. Her pearls would go with both, but she didn’t want to be ostentatious. In the middle of deciding, the doorbell rang. She looked at the clock: 10:15, and rushed down the stairs.

  “Hey Mrs. M.”

  It was Scott.

  “I got your mail. I was going to leave it but, well, I wanted to apologize.”

  Hattie held open the door. “Apologize? For what?”

  He stepped in. “Yesterday. At Roxanne’s place. I should have minded my own business. Muriel didn’t seem happy with me. I wasn’t defending the police. It’s just t
hat there are rules in any investigation.”

  Hattie nodded. “Yes. No doubt.”

  “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn. So, have they found anything?”

  “Who?”

  “The police. I noticed that the detective stopped by around dinnertime.”

  Scott’s busybody tendencies were well known in the neighborhood. It was difficult to say if he was nosey or just trying to make conversation. “Yes. As a matter of fact, he did. I had called him earlier and he came over.”

  “I see.” He smiled politely. “So, is there any news about the investigation?”

  “No. We spoke about other things.”

  As if hoping for more information, Scott paused. “Oh, that’s right, you know each other. He was Howie’s friend.”

  “Yes. They grew up together.”

  He reached into his mailbag and handed Hattie a rolled-up pack. “Here you go. A ton of ads as usual.”

  Suddenly, Hattie saw an opportunity. “Scott, you’ve been around the neighborhood, talking to people. What are they saying about Jason?”

  “Most people are shocked and saddened. He was a great kid.”

  “Yes. Of course. But has anyone mentioned anything specific? Anything that seemed odd to you.”

  “You mean other than the talk about drugs and the problems at the school?”

  “Yes.”

  He thought for a moment. “There was one thing.”

  Hattie sat up.

  “People talk Mrs. M. And you can’t believe everything you hear.”

  “Of course not.”

  He spoke in a confidential tone. “Some people think Bailey may be involved. Not purposefully, you know.”

  Hattie stared off. Assuming Bailey was involved certainly wasn’t a stretch. He was the only one who had a relationship with Jason, he knew about the yard, and he seemed to have some drug issues.

  “Mrs. M. it’s hard to believe bad things about people we like. Jason was a good kid. He’ll always be a good kid. He just got over his head. It happens with teenagers. They tend to follow the crowd to be cool.”

  Suddenly, Hattie didn’t want to hear anymore. Being cool and turning up dead didn’t seem comparable. “Thanks for the mail.”

  He nodded. “That’s my job.” On the way toward the door, he added. “Try not to worry.”