While She Slumbered: The Murder Blog Mysteries #5

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  As she slid the cupcake baking pan out of the oven, Larry asked, “Why did she have to go?”

  “She has a very hot date tonight. Sure hope he’s not another loser.” Then very slyly, she said, “I hope she’s using protection. Did I tell you she has a STD? Tacky, huh?”

  “STD? What’s that?”

  “You are so innocent, Larry! She’s got chlamydia.” She pressed a finger over his lips. “Do not tell her I told you. She would die of embarrassment.”

  Patsy stepped to the sink and started washing the big pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Larry grabbed a towel and dried the big glass bowl she handed him.

  “I sure hope Shawna tells her date about her STD if things start to get hot and heavy—because, well, you know,” said Patsy.

  “Know what?” he questioned.

  She watched him out of the corner of her eye. “Chlamydia causes erectile dysfunction.”

  Larry dropped the big glass bowl on the floor and it broke into a million sharp pieces. “Sorry. Clumsy me. I’ll go get a broom.”

  “No, I’ll clean it up. You have your Elks meeting, right?”

  “I sure do—every Tuesday night for the past two years,” he babbled. “Thursday is bowling night. Monday—Rotary. Wednesday afternoon is chamber.”

  “You’re a very, very busy boy, aren’t you,” she said.

  “It gets very tiring,” he sighed. “But it’s for the business, you know. Except for the bowling. You should join a women’s team. It’s really fun.”

  “No, thank you. I’m too tired from baking and taking care of customers six days a week to go out at night and toss a twelve-pound ball at a bunch of pins.”

  “Don’t forget, I have that big Rotary fundraiser meeting in Anchorage next weekend.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. I had thought that Shawna and I could have a girl’s night on Saturday. You know, order pizza, make popcorn, watch a couple old chick flicks, like The First Wives Club. I love those movies where the women destroy, or better yet, murder their cheating husbands.” She heavily sighed. “But it turns out, she’ll be out of town, too.”

  Larry’s eyes got really wide and he stammered, “Oh, really? Where’s she going?”

  Patsy said, “To visit her mother in Fairbanks, poor thing. That woman is a monster, but Shawna is a very good, very devoted daughter and says it’s her duty.”

  “Yeah, she’s a very good girl, all right.” He tossed the towel on a wooden peg and headed to the door. “I gotta get going, but hey — you know you could still order pizza and watch a movie on Saturday night.”

  She smiled broadly. “Oh, I intend to. I might even treat myself to some champagne. Like a little celebration.”

  “What will you be celebrating?” he asked.

  “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tuesday • June 30

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  On our morning stroll, Daisy and I checked out the solar project next door. I’m thankful I have mature evergreen trees and bushes separating our yards so I don’t have to look at them. Don’t get me wrong; I am all for solar power. In fact, if Mel is right about the new neighbor producing enough electricity to power the whole block, I might sneak over and plug in a long extension cord. Think of all the money I could save!

  Randy and Earl called me over. At the foot of the porch steps, I said, “You guys sure look glum. What’s up?”

  “Come up on the porch, and you tell us.”

  I followed their gaze across the street to the blinding glare from the solar lawn panels.

  “We like sitting out here in the morning,” said Randy. “Drinking tea, waving at the neighbors, and letting the peaceful vibes set our ch’i in harmony for the day, but this is a total buzzkill.”

  “I never would’ve thought this could happen,” I said. “Have you talked to the guy?”

  Randy shook his head. “We’ve gone over three times, but he’s never around.”

  My gaze shifted to Nina’s property. “Looks like Donna must’ve paid off the workers. What are they jackhammering now?”

  Earl said, “That’s our other buzz kill. They’re removing the brick steps.”

  Randy said, “We’re talking about selling the place. This was our grandparents’ home. A lot of happy memories here, but this neighborhood is really going downhill.”

  “That’s what Nina said not too long ago.” Although, at the time she was mainly complaining about the boys.

  He went on. “We’re thinking about getting some land out in the countryside. Build a yurt. Grow our own vegetables. Get some chickens for fresh eggs, and a goat. Eventually, we could each have our own yurt for when we get married. Make it a family compound. Kids and dogs running around.”

  I smiled, feeling a bit wistful. “That sounds really delightful. I’ll come visit you.”

  “You will always be welcome,” said Earl.

  “Ya better watch out. I may pitch a tent and never leave.”

  It was time to be on my way. Daisy and I strolled to the end of the block, crossed the street, and started back towards home. As I neared the dirt where Nina’s concrete driveway had been, Donna came out clutching a large cardboard box. Spilling over the rim was a red, white, and black flowered blouse sleeve that looked like the one Nina had worn on her visit to Shady Acres. I dragged Daisy back to the house we’d just passed and hid behind a Hopseed bush to observe her.

  After she stowed the carton in the Subaru, she left the hatch open and returned to the house. As soon as she was out of sight, I ran to the car and peeked into the box. I was right. It was the same blouse. In fact, everything in the carton looked like Nina’s clothes.

  The front door slammed. Daisy and I hustled back to our hiding place. Donna shoved another box into the back of the car. I was torn between confronting her and staying out of sight. Out-of-sight won. I breathed a sigh of relief when she sped off in the opposite direction.

  This wasn’t the first time I’ve seen Donna put large boxes in the car. All I can think is they’re getting rid of stuff in anticipation of Nina’s move to Shady Acres.

  The Kupcake Kaper

  Chapter 17

  * * *

  “Oh, honey-bunchkins,” cooed Patsy. “I’m so sorry you have an upset tummy.”

  Larry groaned, clutching his belly. “Yeah. It’s very bad.” He stood, looking very alarmed. “Gotta go again!” He rushed out of the living room.

  “I’ll bring you something for your tummy ache,” hollered Patsy through the bathroom door, smiling to herself. “I’m so sorry you didn’t make it to your Elks meeting. I know how much it means to you. All the good works you do for the community.”

  “Must be something I ate,” he said, whimpering pitifully.

  Patsy could hear his stomach contents dumping into the toilet and said very cheerfully, “I just talked to Shawna, and she is really sick, too. She had to cancel her hot date. Maybe there’s a nasty bug going around.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” gasped Larry.

  Patsy winked at their cat, who was curling around her legs, and whispered, “Or maybe it’s all the chocolate flavored laxative I put in the cupcakes. Revenge can be sweet, huh Baby Girl?”

  What? The cat’s name is Baby Girl?

  “What did you say?” called Larry in between wrenching groans and farts.

  “Oh, nothing. Just talking to the cat. I’ll go get the Bismuth. That’ll make you feel all better.”

  Patsy took a cherry-flavored Magnesium Citrate bottle from the cabinet in the hallway where they stored medicine and first aid supplies.

  Whoa. Wait a sec. Isn’t that a laxative? I took a moment to check online, and sure enough, it is.

  She also grabbed the cherry-flavored Nighttime Cold and Flu liquid medicine. In the kitchen, she poured a quarter cup of the nighttime medicine in a bowl and whisked in a quarter cup of the magnesium citrate. It was too thin, so she added cornstarch to thicken it to proper bismuth consistency. She
poured the concoction into a juice glass and then went to the bathroom and tapped on the door.

  “Can I come in, sweetheart? I have your medicine. It’s a new flavor. Cherry.” She opened the door and saw Larry sitting on the toilet, clutching his stomach. “Here, sweetie. Drink this,” she said as she opened the window. “It’s a double dose to get you started. We’ll get that nasty diarrhea under control in a jiffy.”

  Larry tipped the contents into his mouth and wiped his lips on his sleeve. “Not bad. Better than the mint flavor. Could you bring me more TP? I think I’m going to need it.” He flushed the toilet and pulled his pants up.

  “Why don’t you lie down for a while? Later on, I’ll make you some nice bone broth. But right now, I need to frost a fresh batch of cupcakes.”

  “More of the new ones?” he said, clutching his stomach with a wince.

  “No. Your favorite. Carrot-zucchini. It’s a special order for the hospital auxiliary. I’ll give you more medicine in an hour.”

  His eyes widened, and he grimaced. “Gotta go!”

  Yeah, I know, she thought, stifling a giggle.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Wednesday • July 1

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  While running errands downtown that my little friend Casey would call boring, I passed by the defunct business I once shared with my ex: The Bookstore Bistro. Heather, Chad’s second wife, sold it after she divorced him and moved away with their baby to live with her mother. We’ve kept in touch and she’s doing well.

  Half a block down, a parking enforcement officer was pinning a ticket under the windshield wiper of an old green Subaru. I slowed to a crawl to get a closer look, and sure enough, it was Nina’s car.

  I whipped around the block, parked, and fed the meter, then crept down the street towards the car, keeping an eye out for Donna. Two doors away, I stood under a covered entrance. I couldn’t wait to see her reaction when she saw the $65 ticket. I know the dollar amount from bitter past experience.

  Peeping around the corner of the brick wall, I gazed down the sidewalk. A shop doorbell jingled across the street. Donna, wearing a floral purple muumuu and flip-flops, stepped out. I shrunk into the shadows feeling wickedly gleeful and got out my phone, thinking a P.I. would record her movements.

  “Godammit!” Donna ripped the parking ticket from the wiper blade and yelled for all to hear, “Sixty-five dollars? Are you kidding me?” She waved the ticket at a scrawny teenager wearing a gray beanie and toting a skateboard. “Sixty-five damned bucks! Can you believe it? Do I look like I’m made of money?”

  The young guy dashed across the street and sped off on the skateboard.

  She crumpled the citation, jerked the car door open, and tossed it in before settling her big bottom on the driver’s seat.

  After she drove away, I went over to the store she’d exited. Posh Jewelers—Consignment Estate Jewelry is our Specialty. Inside, I glanced around the shop, taking in the Victorian décor and glass jewelry cases.

  “May I help you?” said a familiar-looking, dapper, bow-tied senior behind the counter.

  I stared for a moment, trying to place him. “Do I know you?”

  He bowed. “Cornelius Hembry at your service.”

  “That’s right! You sell vacuums and are a Universal Life Church minister, too. I was there when you did a funeral ceremony for a cat.”

  “Good old Dave. Wanda’s cat.”

  “Yes. At ACME Upholstery. I did a graphic art job for her.”

  “I remember the lovely logo you designed.”

  “Thank you. So, you’re selling estate jewelry now?”

  He tweaked his silver handlebar moustache. “I find it exhilarating after selling vacuums for so many years.”

  “I’ve never been in here before.” I looked into the glass case. “The reason I came in is I saw a lady leave a few minutes ago, and she looked pleased.”

  “She brought in some exquisite pieces for consignment. I’m not ready to put them in the display cases yet. Would you like a little peek?”

  He spread a black velvet cloth on the counter and arrayed the jewelry on it. I gasped when I recognized the ring that Nina used to wear on her right hand. A ruby flanked by two diamonds set in pink gold. It had been her great-grandmother’s. Her wedding set was in the group, too. She’d stopped wearing rings because her knuckles were too arthritic to get them on anymore. Several pieces I didn’t recognize. However, the Victorian gold bangle she always wears was in the group. I picked it up and read the inscription. “To my darling Lulu—April 23, 1892.”

  “Ah. I see you appreciate fine vintage jewelry,” said Cornelius.

  “Yes, I do.” I hesitated, trying to work up the courage to continue. “Mr. Hembry?”

  “Tut, tut. Please call me Cornelius. We’re old friends.”

  I smiled, wondering if he’d feel that way after what I was about to say. “Cornelius. I have not been entirely up front with you. The woman who left these pieces may not be on the up-and-up.”

  I was treading on thin ice, but I felt I’d be doing a disservice to the kind gentleman, if I didn’t tell him what I suspected. “That woman, Donna Baxter, is staying at my dear friend’s house. My friend, Nina Lowen, is her aunt. She’s in her late eighties, and I think Donna is taking advantage of her. I do not believe for one minute that Nina would give her niece permission to pawn her jewelry.” I picked up the bangle. “Nina wears this every day.” I did not get into my suspicions that Donna is drugging Nina to keep her sleeping all the time. I probably would have sounded like a nut case.

  Cornelius frowned, looking disturbed. “Oh, dear. That is distressing.” He pulled the black velvet closer and began to fold the jewelry into it.

  “I’m sorry to be so blunt. I can understand how crazy I sound.”

  He shook his head. “I have no reason to doubt what you say.”

  “May I take some photos and show them to my friend? You know, to make sure Nina is good with this.” I set my hand on his. “I also ask that you do not sell them until I get back to you.”

  “Absolutely. I have no wish to deal with someone who may have untoward motives. Like your dear friend, I too am in my eighties. There are those who think that simply because someone is in their elder years, they are easy prey for a swindle. I will have you know all my brain cells are intact.”

  * * *

  Back in my car, I was at a loss about what to do next. I’d told Cornelius I would show the photos to Nina. But in reality, how was that going to happen, given the way things were going? Then I thought of Angela Yaeger. Our police chief and my friend. The station was two blocks away. I pumped more money into the parking meter and headed there, hoping she would have time to see me.

  Angela greeted me with open arms at her office doorway. “Katy! It’s been too long!”

  I embraced her, thinking how fortunate our city is to have her. A while back, the lovely silver-haired black woman tried to talk me into joining the force. I gave it serious thought and concluded I’d make a lousy cop.

  “I heard about your adventures in England. Good grief, Katy! How do you always manage to find trouble?”

  “To quote I don’t know who—I don’t go looking for trouble. Trouble has a way of finding me.”

  “Ha! You sound like a gumshoe in an old film noir mystery. Trouble keeps finding you because you’re such a good, caring person.”

  “Thank you, Angela. Your opinion means a lot to me. Although, I spend most of my days feeling like a total idiot.”

  She laughed. “That just means you’re getting older.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “When we’re younger, we think we know everything. As we mature, we learn otherwise. Wait’ll you’re my age. Every day I keep learning just how much I don’t know. Especially the last few years. Just when you think things can’t get any crazier, they do.” She shook her head, looking peeved. “It’s wearing me down, let me tell you.”

  “You’re not thinking about quitting,
are you?”

  Angela shook her head. “No. I’m in it until they retire me. It’s people like you who keep me going. But the load gets heavier every year. In my early years, I lost two partners to domestic abuse calls.” She held up two fingers. “Two. Both shot when the door opened.”

  “My dad had to retire after a domestic abuse call. Shot in the knee and permanently disabled.”

  “It was a big loss for the department,” she said. “Kurt Melby was a good cop. One of the best.”

  “Thank goodness he survived and went on to open his fix-it shop and enjoy life. Every day, I thank my lucky stars that he is my stepfather.”

  “I dropped off my ancient Vitamix blender the other day and we had a nice chat. Most of it about you. Go figure.” Angela offered me a cup of coffee, and we sat on the saggy, brown leather couch that has held many police chiefs through the years.

  “So, what brings you here today?” She cocked her head, looking mischievous. “Any wedding plans with that gorgeous boyfriend of yours? If you need an officiant, I am available, you know.”

  I sighed. “I wish.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  I brought her up to speed on the Josh dilemma, and then gave her a synopsis of the Nina situation, however, I didn’t mention the part where I entered her home without permission. My big finish were the photos of Nina’s jewelry, thinking she’d exclaim, “Let’s go arrest that thieving bitch!”

  Instead, she calmly said, “Do you have any proof that she stole them from Nina? This woman is her niece, and as you say, her only heir, so perhaps Nina gifted her these heirlooms now.”

  “And then she turns around and pawns them?”

  “If they were a gift, then that’s her choice.” She waved her hand at me. “Don’t give me that look. Of course, I think it’s despicable, but people do despicable things every day. Pawning family jewelry is a helluva lot better than murdering family members.”