Mulch Ado About Murder

by Martha Rogers

  Mulch Ado About Murder

  By: Martha Rogers

  Copyright © Martha Rogers 2018

  Forget Me Not Romances, a division of Winged Publications

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, with the exception of brief quotations in printed reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are the product of the author's imagination and are completely fictitious.

  Dedication:

  To all my dear friends who have encouraged me along this journey as a writer.

  “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”

  Psalm 118:24

  Chapter 1

  After securing Mitzi, my Schnauzer, in the bedroom with a few toys, I stepped onto the front porch of my cottage and locked the door. Not that anything ever happened around here, but one could never be too careful. Clear, bright skies without a cloud in the heavens filled me with energy. Nothing could go wrong on this beautiful early fall morning in northwest Arkansas. This was the day the Lord had made, a day to rejoice in the Lord’s abundant blessings.

  I stretched my muscles to remove the kinks, then set out across the way to the dining hall for breakfast, one of my favorite meals at the Spring Hills Manor Senior Living Community. I don’t like cooking that early in the morning.

  I gazed around at the fall blooms in the gardens and sniffed their fragrance, one of the reasons I’d chosen this place for retirement. Pete Simpson, one of the grounds keeping crew, rode a mower across the grass on the other side of the sidewalk. I waved at him and reminded myself I needed to ask him about bugs I’d seen on my rose bushes when he came over to mulch the azaleas at the side of my cottage.

  Pete returned the wave before turning to head the other direction. I spotted several other workers trimming hedges and putting out new plants. One thing about this complex, they kept it looking more like a country club than a senior living center. At age seventy, I was just glad I still lived in my own cottage and not in the main building with the others who needed assistance with everyday activities like dressing and bathing.

  I’d only gone a few feet when a voice called out from behind me. “Abby, Abby, wait up, and I’ll walk with you.”

  I cringed at the hated nickname. Ben Martin, a retired lawyer who lived in the cottage two doors down from me, waved and hurried to catch up. That old codger insisted on calling me by the shortened version of my name. I much preferred Abigail. He also shared the same table at meals with me and four other residents. If I let him have his way, he’d be spending a lot more of his time with me. Not that I minded his company, but I wasn’t interested in more than friendship.

  He huffed and puffed when he reached my side. “You sure walk fast for someone our age. Don’t you ever slow down?”

  “And let old age catch up with me? Not on your life.” I took great pride in my good health and mobility. No walkers or canes for me now or ever if I had anything to do with it.

  I fought a smile. Not that it was any of my business, but Ben needed to get out and exercise more. He wasn’t fat or anything, but he did have a slight paunch around the middle. Even with his six-foot height, he had a little more flab on his bones than muscle.

  Of course l do have to admit Ben and I have fun teasing and taunting each other about politics, food, modern electronics, and anything else that happened along. I glanced back and found Ben a few strides behind. With a shrug, I strode across the walkway to the red brick main building.

  Although the food here was relatively sugar-free, low sodium, and low fat, as long as it was cooked by someone else, I didn’t mind.

  I smiled at Lloyd, one of the attendants who opened the door for me. “Good morning. Looks like another beautiful day for us.”

  He grinned and held the door edge. “Yes, it is, and all but Doris are at your table.”

  “Thanks.” I headed to the dining room in the East Wing of the first floor.

  “Good morning, ladies, Harry.” I settled into a chair across from Bessie Johnson and Harry Spencer. Clara Bivens sat next to me.

  Bessie’s beaming smile emphasized her Shirley Temple dimples. “Good morning, Abigail, Ben.”

  His silky tones floated in the air. “Ah, I may be old and too slow to keep up with Abby, but I’m never too old to enjoy the company of such lovely ladies.” He slipped into the seat next to mine and winked at Bessie whose cheeks turned pink.

  Why these women couldn’t see through his smooth talk and gracious manner I’d never know. He must have been one smooth defense lawyer. But he could be just as ornery as any man I’d ever known, and that’s what helped me keep my distance.

  The remaining member of the table group, Doris Barton, arrived. After everyone greeted each other, Bessie and Clara warmed up to Ben and Harry. I gazed around the room to see the same thing happening all over the dining room where the women outnumbered the men at every table.

  Some women never get over flirting and giggling like schoolgirls when men are around. I sure hoped I didn’t act like that. But then I wasn’t looking for another man like many of the females at Spring Hills.

  The waiter brought a platter of egg substitute omelets along with turkey bacon still sizzling on the plate. Wheat toast accompanied by a low-fat spread and a bowl of fresh fruits rounded out the meal. I hid my smile at Ben’s scowl when the young man served him a cup of decaf coffee. He wanted nothing but the fully-leaded stuff. He’d stop by my place later in the day to have some regular because I always kept a pot going. Then Harry offered thanks for the meal.

  I unfolded my napkin and placed it in my lap before helping myself to eggs and bacon.

  Bessie smiled at Ben and asked him if he planned to play bridge that afternoon.

  Ben shook his head. “Don’t think I can make it today.”

  Bessie cooed and flashed her dimples again. “But Ben, we really need to practice for the bridge tournament, and this is a good opportunity.”

  “I’m sorry, Bessie, but I already have plans. Maybe some other time.”

  I had to chuckle at his excuse. His plans probably included a long nap, but Bessie didn’t need to know that. It also reminded me that Harry and I needed some practice as well since we’d signed up to be partners again this year.

  Conversation continued to flow until Doris pushed back her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change for my water aerobics class. See you at lunch, Abigail?”

  I shook my head. “Not me today. I plan to have a little something at my place. I’ll be back for dinner.”

  A few minutes later I left the others and headed back to my cottage.

  Ben followed me outside. “Are you going to walk at a decent pace, or will I have to run to keep up with you?”

  I didn’t say anything but slowed my step. I kept in shape on the golf course every chance I had and joined the exercise class several days a week. Although I had invited him more than once, walking the eighteen holes of golf was not his idea of how to spend a few hours.

  Ben gazed up at the trees dotting the area. “The leaves will be turning before you know it. There’s already a chill in the air early in the mornings.”

  I nodded. “And it helps to have cooler afternoons for golf.”

  Ben pumped his fist in the air. “And football is the sport of the season. The Razorbacks are doing quite well.”

  “Yes, I noticed that.” Everyone in Arkansas followed the Razorbacks whether they were affiliated with the university or not. Of course, with the center being so close to the campus, the Razorbacks became the topic of a lot of conversations around the table at meals.

  When we ar
rived at the door to my cottage, I started to ask if he’d like a cup of coffee, but decided to let it go. I had a new mystery I wanted to finish by a woman who could scare the liver out of me, but I loved her books.

  He waved and sauntered on towards his own cottage two doors down. My gaze swept across the manicured lawns of the Spring Hills Terrace center. Each of the individual cottages reflected the red brick and white trim of the main building. The brass trim of the light fixtures and door hardware sparkled in the bright morning sun.

  Both Ben and I live in one-bedroom bungalows with a living room and a kitchen. I hoped I wouldn’t live long enough to be relegated to one of the beds in the nursing section. Assisted-living might be bearable, but not the other.

  Once inside, Mitzi’s furious bark led me to the bedroom. She must have heard me come in, but she didn’t usually bark like that. I let Mitzi out of the bedroom. She leaped up at me, almost knocking me down. She licked my face like I’d been gone for a week. “Hi, baby, you glad to see me? Let’s go find a doggie treat.” I gave her the treat and poured a cup of coffee.

  Mitzi finished her treat, but returned to the bedroom where she once again started barking. I supposed she needed to go outside again. I grabbed her leash from its hook in the pantry, but before I got to the bedroom, she sprinted past me and raced to the back door, again with that furious bark.

  A car door slammed outside and added to Mitzi’s barking frenzy. I tried to calm her down as I secured the leash on her collar. Car tires squealed, and a motor roared. I rushed to the back door to see who could be driving like that, but whoever it was had disappeared. One of my neighbors must have been in a huge hurry to get somewhere. I shrugged and bent down for Mitzi who bumped her head against the door. “Okay, okay, we’re going outside.”

  Each of our cottages had a small patch of grass and a patio behind it for a yard. Beyond that is a driveway where my white Camry still sat where it had been parked after a shopping trip on Saturday, so I didn’t think any more about the car racing off.

  Without any fences anywhere, I usually kept Mitzi on her leash, but after a few minutes, I decided to let her run a bit. After all, there was nothing around here to hurt her.

  I sat in one of my plastic chairs under the patio cover to watch Mitzi, but she barked a couple of times and disappeared around the corner of the house. She must have seen or sensed a squirrel, but I didn’t worry. She’d be back in a minute.

  Mitzi once again barked and this time the frenzy clutched at my heart. Something was terribly wrong. She must have tangled herself in the bushes. I raced around to find her completely all right but furiously barking at something in the flower bed.

  “Mitzi, hush, or you’ll have all the neighbors running outside.” I reached down to scoop her up and almost choked. Two legs clad in khaki work pants and work boots stuck out from under an azalea bush.

  With trembling hands, I pushed back the leaves and found Pete Simpson lying in the mulch. Blood covered one side of his head and the ground around him.

  The old adage, “scared spitless” came to me as that was the exact condition of my mouth. Pete lay face down in the dirt. He looked dead, and I hesitated to touch the body to find out for sure, but I placed two fingers on his neck. My hand yanked back in surprise. He was still very warm but very dead, and he’d been alive when I went up to breakfast an hour earlier.

  My brain went into overdrive as I picked up Mitzi and hurried inside where I punched the call button for the medical personnel up at the center then dialed 911 for the Springhill city police.

  A shiver raced down my spine, and I locked the door with Mitzi still yapping in my arms. Whoever did this to Pete might still be lurking about. Then I remembered the car leaving in a hurry. Had that been the killer? I called Ben and Harry. At this minute, I’d welcome them with open arms.

  Now I knew what could go wrong on such a beautiful day.

  Chapter 2

  When they police arrived, I closed Mitzi up in my room and hurried back to the crime scene. Uniformed officers and plain clothes detectives swarmed like flies at a picnic across the lawns beside my cottage. The image of Pete, his own blood spilled about his head, wouldn’t leave my head. His body lay like a limp doll under the azaleas. Yellow tape marked off the area, just like I’d seen on TV, but now it was in my own yard.

  A rather tall detective moseyed to my side. “Good morning, I’m Detective Forester. The officers tell me you were the one who found the body and called 911.”

  “Yes, I am, or rather my dog found him.”

  “What is your name, and what time was that?”

  “Abigail Billings and I had just returned from breakfast around nine. I let Mitzi out to play shortly after that, so I guess it was about ten after nine or so.”

  “Did you see anyone around?”

  “No, I saw him when I was going up for breakfast. He was mowing the grass.”

  “Anything else you can tell me?”

  At the moment I couldn’t. He started to turn away, but I tapped him on the arm. “Do you know the COD?” Proud of myself for knowing some of the jargon, I wasn’t prepared for the frown that creased his jaws.

  “COD? Just why do you need to know what killed him?”

  I pulled myself up to my full height of five feet seven inches and peered at him. I couldn’t peer down my nose as he stood at least six inches taller. “He was killed beside my house, I knew him, and I found him, or rather my dog found him.” I planted my fists on my hips. “I think that gives me a right to know.”

  I waited while he shook his head and marched over to where the medical examiner or whomever examined the body. The detective hunched down, no mean feat for a man of his size. The one with SHCSU printed on his cap turned the body over, and my hand flew to my mouth. Blood not only covered the side of his head, but a garden tool also protruded from Pete’s belly. No doubt about the COD now.

  The officer glanced back in my direction. My eyes opened wide, and I stared slack jawed at the scene before me. He came back and spoke to me with a little more compassion than before.

  “I guess you can see what killed him. The examiner says he’s been dead less than an hour. It appears like he was working in the bed. Know why he was here?”

  “Yes, I had asked him to check the mulch around my azaleas and to dig up some weeds I saw there the other day. Pete is on the grounds crew for Spring Hills Terrace. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt such a nice man.” I wanted to ask why so much blood matted the hair on the back of his head but decided the officer wouldn’t tell me any more than what he had already.

  Something made a tic-tic sound at a window. It was Mitzi tapping with her claws on the glass pane in a frantic attempt to get out. Oh dear, she didn’t need to see all that blood and Pete’s dead body. It’d scar her for life. I excused myself and rushed into the house to retrieve my darling. Even though she’d been the one to find the body in the first place, I didn’t want her to keep looking. She had worked herself up under the blinds, so I raised them then picked her up.

  “It’s all right, Mitzi. I’m right here. Everything’s okay.” But it wasn’t and wouldn’t be until we found out who had murdered Pete and why. Through the window I spotted Bessie and Doris with Ben and Harry out in the crowd. The same detective who had questioned me now stood with them.

  Before I returned to join my friends and share what I knew, I closed Mitzi up in the bathroom so she wouldn’t be at my window again. At this point I didn’t care if she tore my shower curtain to shreds. I just wanted her out of the way and safe. Her loud barking and scratching at the door followed me when I went outside. She really needed a doggie crate.

  When I joined Ben and the others, they bombarded me with a gazillion questions as to how and when I’d found Pete and what had the police told me. I couldn’t really answer all their questions, and I had a few of my own. Maybe Ben, Harry, and I could find a few answers. After all, Harry was a retired police lieutenant and Ben a criminal defense lawyer.
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br />   Bessie waved her hands in front of her. “Oh, my dear Abigail, what an awful thing to find in your flower bed. And poor Pete. Who would want to kill him?”

  Even though the air was cool, she fanned her face with her fingers and gasped for breath. Better I had found him than her. She might have had a heart attack.

  I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and glanced back at Ben. “There now, Bessie. Don’t get yourself all worked up. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Bessie’s lips quivered. “I’m going to be afraid to sleep at night with a murderer on the loose.”

  Ben stepped up. “No need to worry. Harry and I will take turns keeping watch for a few nights.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful.” She hooked her arm through Harry’s and batted her eyelashes. “Having a former policeman on watch will ease my mind considerably.”

  Poor Doris said nothing, but simply stared at the spot where the coroner was placing Pete into a body bag.

  After Ben and I solved the mystery of missing entertainment funds just last year, we were teased about our sleuthing skills. Ben liked digging for clues as evidenced by some the cases he’d won for his wrongly accused clients. Maybe we could solve this one and put our friends’ minds to rest. I supposed the police wouldn’t like that, but they didn’t live here.

  I whispered to Ben that I wanted to talk with him and nodded toward my house. We left Harry consoling Bessie and Doris. He gave us a searing look, but I just shrugged and grinned before heading indoors with Ben. Harry could join us later if he wanted.

  Once inside, I offered Ben coffee. While it brewed, I rummaged in the drawer for my note pad and pencil. With both in hand, Ben and I sat down at the table while the tantalizing aroma filled the air.

  “Sorry to take you away from the scene, but if Bessie knows what I am about to suggest, she’ll blab it all over the complex.”