“He had to just stand there and look at that bag and breathe that awful stuff and suffer,” Elsie said.
Savannah shook her head. “I believe this is the only time I ever felt sorry for the likes of Billy Ray Sonner.”
“You and me both, kiddo,” Manny told her.
“But you still don’t know who did it, Sheriff,” Elsie said. “You know how, but not who.”
Manny gave her a fake stern look. “Now what did I tell you, Miss Elsie, about speaking words of gloom and doom in my presence?”
“Um . . . not to?”
“That’s right. I—”
Manny stopped and turned toward the cruiser’s door. They had all heard it, the cruiser’s radio, asking the sheriff to “Come in.”
“Oh, joy. It’s Merv again,” Manny said as he crawled inside to answer the summons.
Stella listened as the deputy told Manny the purpose for his call.
“She did it again,” she could hear Merv saying, “that crazy gal with all them cats who lives in that haunted monstrosity by the graveyard.”
“Miss Dolly Browning has a name,” Manny told him, “and I’d prefer you use it when you refer to her, Deputy. What exactly did she do again?”
“That crazy gal named Miss Dolly Browning did that stupid thing she does this time ever’ year, gettin’ drunk as Cooter Brown’s skunk and takin’ a cab to Atlanta and back,” Merv replied. “I got me a mad-as-hell taxi driver here in the station. He wants me to arrest her for theft of service.”
“You know the drill, Deputy,” Manny told him. “Take whatever she owes him out of petty cash, tack on a nice tip, and send him on his way.”
“But that’s the town’s money.”
Stella watched Manny’s face tighten. He shook his head and said, “Damn it, Mervin. What’s in that shoebox is mostly outta my own pocket, and don’t pretend you don’t pilfer quarters out of it all the time to support your Pac-Man addiction. Do as I say! Now!”
“Yes, sir.”
Manny slammed the microphone into its cradle and got back out of the cruiser. He rubbed his hands over his face in a gesture that Stella knew meant their stalwart, never-say-die sheriff had just about reached his limit.
“You oughta go home, Manny, and get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.”
“Yes, unfortunately, it will be,” he said with a sigh. “Why didn’t I follow my childhood dream? It would’ve been far less stressful than trying to protect and serve these knuckleheads.”
“What was that?” Savannah asked innocently, not detecting the note of sarcasm in his voice. “What did you really want to be when you grew up?”
Stella knew what was coming. She’d heard Manny use this joke before.
“A sword-juggling, tightrope-walking matador who disarms bombs in his spare time.”
Savannah laughed. “I think you made the right choice, Sheriff.” She turned to Stella. “What’s this business about Miss Dolly going to Atlanta every year? I heard she does it, and there’s something weird about it, but I don’t know why.”
“Nobody knows why,” Stella told her. “The rest of the year, she’s right as rain. I’ve never even seen the woman tipsy. But for some reason, every April thirtieth, she downs most of a bottle of whisky, dresses up in a fancy dress, hat and gloves, and a mink stole, and she calls a cab to take her to Atlanta.”
“Why Atlanta? Does she go shopping?”
“Afraid not,” Manny said, as he returned to the trunk and secured the items in the box. “I’ve gotten more than one complaint from some folks who own a big Tudor mansion, there in the suburbs. She goes to ‘visit’ them. Uninvited, I might add.”
“Why?”
“Again, nobody knows for sure. The first time she did it was about fifteen years ago. She got all spiffied up, like your granny just said, and with that old alligator suitcase in hand, she marched up to their door. And since it was open, she walked right inside and made herself at home. She shook their hands and said, ‘Thank you for taking care of my estate while I was gone, but I’m home now, so you can leave.’ ”
“That must have been a shock for the real homeowners.”
“It was. But they’re kindhearted people, who realized she’d had too much to drink and was more confused than dangerous.”
Manny closed the box and placed some evidence tape across the top to seal it. “After she showed up the second time, they started making sure the door was locked. But every year, like clockwork, a cab pulls up to the mansion, she gets out, struts up there to the door, as bold as you please, and when they don’t answer, she yells and pounds on it until they do.”
Savannah turned to her grandmother. “That’s sad, Granny. Has anybody asked her why she does it?”
“I did, about ten years ago,” Elsie said. “But she didn’t want to talk about it. Once she sobers up, she’s all embarrassed, and she clams up tighter than a flea’s butt over a rain barrel. Refused to even discuss it.”
“I usually pay her an early morning visit every April thirtieth,” Manny said. “I warn her to stay off the whisky and suggest she spend the day at home, all quiet and peaceful like. For all the good it does. The minute my back’s turned, she hits the bottle, then carries on with her day, just like she’d planned. With all that’s been going on, I forgot this year. It completely slipped my mind.”
“You’ve got bigger fish to fry, Manny,” Stella assured him. Turning to Savannah, she said, “No real harm’s done. Nobody gets hurt, except the cab drivers who get their noses outta joint when they realize this woman, who was all dressed up like a rich lady and looked like she could afford a taxi trip to and from Atlanta, doesn’t have a single dollar bill on her.”
“That’s when they come to the station and complain to me. Some, like the guy this year, want her locked up.”
“You pay her taxi bill ever’ single year, Sheriff?” Elsie asked.
Manny shrugged. “It’s not that much. She’s a nice lady, doesn’t cause me any trouble the other 364 days a year. I don’t mind helping her out a little once in a while.”
Savannah studied him with admiring eyes for a moment, then said, “You make a nicer sheriff than you would have a bullfighter.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Manny winked at her as he slammed the trunk closed. “I wouldn’t have gotten far as a matador, shooting foam darts at the bull.”
Savannah turned to Stella and said, “I feel funny even mentioning this, Gran. I don’t even know why I thought of it, except that I’ve been reading that book about the Holocaust for days.”
“Okay, darlin’. What’s on your mind?”
“I was just wondering if any of you know what April thirtieth is. What significance it has in world history, that is.”
Stella thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind. She turned to Manny. “I’m drawin’ a blank here. You, Manny?”
“I’ve no idea.”
Manny and Stella looked at Elsie, but she shook her head and said, “I can’t think of anything either. Is it the birthday of somebody famous?”
“Not their birthday,” Savannah said. “The opposite of a birthday, in fact. April thirtieth is the day Adolph Hitler died.”
Chapter 28
Stella, Manny, Elsie, and Savannah stood at the rear of the cruiser, silent, as the adults took in what Savannah had just said.
It’s probably nothin’, Stella told herself. Who knows why a date is important to anybody? Could be a birthday, an anniversary, any sort of remembrance.
But something deep inside told her this was a crucial piece of information that they needed to, at least, consider.
“Are you absolutely sure about that, Savannah?” Manny asked her.
Stella could tell by his tone that he was taking it seriously. Apparently, his instincts were telling him it was important, too.
Savannah nodded. “I can take you back inside and show you in the book.”
“Would you mind doing that, darlin’? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I d
o need to verify it.” He shot Stella a look and added, “It might be important.”
Stella’s head was spinning as the four of them walked back into the house.
When Savannah ran off to the kitchen to get her book, Stella whispered to Manny, “But Dolly got a threatening letter, and we know it was from the killer, ’cause they knew about Billy Ray’s body being at Mabel’s Motel.”
Manny looked less than convinced when he reminded her, “A letter with only her fingerprints and mine and the postman’s on it.”
“Yes, but—”
Savannah had returned with the book. She quickly thumbed through the pages, found what she was looking for, and shoved it into Manny’s hands.
Pointing to a particular passage, she said, “See there. He gave his girlfriend, Eva, some poison—well, she was his wife by then, because he’d just married her—and then he shot himself. Some of the experts say he poisoned himself first, too. But either way, it all happened on April thirtieth, 1945.”
Manny read the section and nodded. “She’s absolutely right. I don’t know if there’s any significance at all, but . . .” Closing the book, he said, “Stella, Elsie, have either one of you ever heard anything, even a rumor, about where Dolly Browning’s from? Where she lived before she showed up here that day, back in the forties, with her alligator suitcase?”
“No,” Stella said. “I heard she had a little bit of an accent back then, like maybe she was from a different country. But I never heard where. Now she speaks like the rest of us, only maybe better.”
“I never heard where she was from neither,” Elsie said, “but I could swear, one time I heard her speaking another language.”
“Really?” Manny leaned closer to Elsie. “What language?”
“I don’t know. It was right after she got that dog of hers, Valentine. She was so proud of her new puppy. Was tellin’ ever’body she met about him. I had a ham bone left over from the judge’s big Easter feast, so I took it over to her.”
“That was nice of you,” Savannah said.
“Oh, shucks. I didn’t have a dog myself, and I thought he’d enjoy it. Anyway, I knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer. Then I thought I heard her in the backyard. I walked around the house and saw her layin’ on her back on the grass. The puppy was a big one. He was standing on her chest, licking her face. It was a sweet sight, I tell you. She was talking to him, and I didn’t recognize any of the words.”
“But you’ve no idea what language it might’ve been?” Manny asked, frustrated.
“No. But I remember what she called him. I thought it might be the name she’d given him, so I remembered it.”
“What was it?” Stella asked.
“It didn’t make sense, but it sounded like, ‘Mine Lee Bling.’ ”
“Mine Lee Bling?” Savannah mused. “That’d be a pretty weird name for a dog.”
“No kidding,” Stella agreed. “Fido rolls off the tongue a lot easier.”
She glanced over at Manny, who was staring at Elsie, as though her words had stunned him.
“Mine Lee Bling?” he asked.
Elsie nodded. “That’s what she said.”
“Mein liebling,” he whispered. “My little darling.”
“What?” Stella asked. “What do you mean?”
“Mein liebling. It means, ‘my little darling’ or ‘my little sweetheart, ’ in German.”
“German?” Elsie was flabbergasted. “Really?”
“Wow,” Savannah said, her mouth open. “That’s weird. I mean, with all that’s been going on and—”
The phone rang, and they all jumped.
“Who in tarnation is that?” Stella said as she rushed to answer it before the noise woke the children. “It’s after nine o’clock. Ever’body I know who’d call me at this hour is here already.”
She picked up the phone and said, “Hello.”
The person on the other end didn’t answer for so long that Stella thought it might be a prank.
“Who’s calling, please?” she asked.
“Stella?”
The voice was slurred and weak, as though the speaker was far away, but Stella thought she recognized it. “Dolly? Is that you?”
“Yes. It’s me. I’m sorry.”
“For what, darlin’?”
“For calling so late. For disturbing you. I know you just got your little girl home from the hospital today.”
“It’s okay, Dolly.” Stella looked around the room and saw that Manny, Elsie, and Savannah were watching with great interest and listening intently. “I’m glad you called. Are you okay? You don’t sound yourself.”
Stella heard soft laughter on the other end, then, “I’ve had a bit to drink, this morning and then again a few minutes ago. I don’t usually, so it goes right to my head.”
“I imagine it would.”
Stella’s mind raced, wondering the purpose for the call. She couldn’t remember Dolly ever phoning her at night, and certainly not when she was inebriated.
“I want to ask you for a favor, Stella,” Dolly said, speaking each word slowly and deliberately, as though it was quite an effort. “It’s a very, very important favor.”
“Okay, I’d be happy to do a favor for you,” Stella repeated for the sake of those listening. “Just tell me what it is.”
“I have something to give you, and I need to give it to you tonight. Right now, in fact. Could you please come over here to my house?”
When Stella hesitated for a second, thinking of Alma, Dolly quickly added, “I’d drive over to your home, but I’m in no shape to get behind the wheel.”
“No, of course you mustn’t drive. I’ll come right over.”
“There’s one more thing. It’s very important,” Dolly said, sounding far more serious than before. “Could you come alone? It’s . . . a privacy thing.”
“Okay. I’ll come alone.”
“And you’ll come right now? I hate to insist, but—”
“No problem. I’m leaving this instant. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”
“Thank you, Stella. You’re a good friend.”
Stella heard the phone click. She turned to Elsie and said, “I guess you heard that.”
“I did. Don’t even ask. I’m here for as long as you need me.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll stay up and help her,” Savannah added with a sly smile.
“The kids are in bed and asleep, Miss Savannah. Elsie don’t need no help, and you’ve got school tomorrow.”
“Granny, ple-e-ease!” Savannah looked like she was about to burst into tears. “This is way more important than any stupid thing I’m going to learn in school tomorrow. This is real life! Besides, I won’t be able to sleep a wink until you get home and tell me what happened. I might as well be sitting out here, talking to Elsie, than tossing and turning in that bunk bed in there, listening to Vidalia snore and Marietta fart.”
Stella sighed. “That’s true, girlie. Stay out here and keep Elsie company. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
As she was putting on her sweater and reaching for her purse on the piecrust table behind the door, she noticed that Manny was sliding into his jacket.
“What do you think you’re doin’, Sheriff Gilford?” she asked him.
“I’m taking you to see Dolly Browning.”
“You must have heard what I told her. You were standing right next to me.”
“I did, and I’m driving you over there and going inside with you.”
“You can’t! She said it was a private matter, and I had to come all by myself.”
He walked over to the door and opened it. “Go sit yourself down in my cruiser, Stella May,” he said. “You told her you’d be there in less than ten minutes. We can argue about it on the way there.”
“Do I look stupid to you, Manny Gilford? If we’re on our way, then you’ve already won the argument!”
He stepped up to her, grabbed her by the elbow, and said, “Mrs. Reid, are
you resisting an officer of the law?”
“I most certainly am. He’s being overly bossy, and I don’t abide such things.”
“Ugh, woman! You drive me batty—you know that?”
Manny groaned and ran his fingers through his hair several times in exasperation. When he was finished, he reminded Stella of Marietta’s impression of Cyndi Lauper.
With what appeared to be a great effort on his part, he calmed himself and said with exaggerated patience, “Just think about this for a second, and I’m sure you’ll agree I have a good point. In the past thirty minutes, Miss Dolly Browning has moved to the top, or at least near the top, of my suspect list. Then she makes a mysterious late-night phone call to you, asking you to come over to her house to do her some unnamed favor, and she insists that you come alone. Alone, Stella. Why would she need to see you alone? Do you really think I’m going to let you go over there by yourself? Seriously? I wouldn’t let some two-hundred-pound jerk from the pool hall that I don’t even like go over there without my protection tonight. Let alone you. ”
Stella mulled it over for several seconds, looked up at him coyly, and said, “I’ll make a deal with ya.”
“I’m sheriff of this county, Stella May. I don’t have to make deals with anybody.”
Ignoring his last statement, because it didn’t serve her purpose, she said, “Here’s my compromise. You drive me over, park a block from the house, so she can’t see your cruiser. Then you wait in the car while I go in. If I need you, I’ll holler.”
“I might not hear you.”
“Obviously, you have forgotten who you’re talkin’ to. I will remind you that when I was sixteen, I won the county fair’s hog-callin’ contest.”
She could tell by the defeated look on his face he had come to his senses. As she had intended, he realized that her sound logic had trumped his overly protective, emotion-based argument.
She reached up and patted his cheek as she walked by him and out the door. “Don’t look so glum, darlin’,” she told him. “There ain’t a thing to fret about. I promise you, if I have cause to scream bloody murder, you and ever’body in town’s gonna hear me.”
Murder at Mabel's Motel Page 22
