by J. C. Eaton
The SUV could belong to a friend of Jeanette’s, but what if she was in serious mortgage trouble and had to find a way out. Still, that wouldn’t explain the recent waves of unexpected deaths.
After forty-five minutes, I was no better off than when I started. At least I had a nice, well-organized chart to stare at. And that’s exactly what I did for another five minutes until my mother interrupted me when she headed out the door.
“I’ve got to run a few errands, Phee. Well, actually, they’re having a sale at Sher’s Women’s Clothing. If you didn’t insist on dressing like a lumberjack in jeans all the time, I’d offer to buy you one of those cute, frilly tops and a nice pair of polyester pants. You have a decent figure, you know.”
“Lumberjack? Polyester? What??? Oh, never mind. Polyester is the last thing I’d wear, and for your information my jeans happen to be fashionable.”
“Sure, if you’re Paul Bunyan. I was only offering some input.”
Input my you-know-what. It was the same conversation that had been going on between us since my puberty. Yeah, maybe I did prefer sweatshirts to fancy tops, but so what? I was never going to dress with the same panache as my mother. At least I never nagged my daughter about her clothing choices, unless they were way too extreme. I tried putting this out of my head and concentrating on the work I had to do. Work that was taking me way too long.
Paint drying on a humid day was faster. I wasn’t going to get any further without more information, and unlike Streetman, who was in his dog bed snoring away, I didn’t feel like sitting around waiting for Harriet Plunkett to get back.
If there was something more to these deaths, I needed to delve deeper, because the last thing I believed was they were caused by a book curse. A book curse! Oh my gosh! I realized immediately that I needed to find the man who created the disturbance at the pool to see what he knew about a curse.
Quickly, I gathered up the papers from the table, put them in a neat pile on the dresser in the guest bedroom, and headed over to the sheriff’s posse station, hoping that by the time I got there, I would have concocted a solid enough story to learn the name of the man at the pool.
I’ve never been great at lying. Couldn’t even fib as a kid without breaking into a sweat. At least out here in triple-digit weather I had an excuse for any beads of perspiration dripping down my cheeks. Luckily, I didn’t have to stray from the truth.
The posse office was a three-minute drive from my mother’s house, if you were lucky enough to make all the lights. It was actually part of a larger complex that featured a philanthropic foundation and a resale shop. The entire structure looked like some sort of beige arcade, and I felt as if I was about to try my luck at one of the booths. At least I had my story straight as I approached the woman seated at the posse’s reception desk. She wore a small name tag that read, DONNA, POSSE VOLUNTEER. I prayed she wouldn’t ask too many questions and greeted her as cheerfully as I could.
“Hi! I’m hoping you can help me with something.”
“I’ll try,” the woman replied, brushing a few curls from her forehead. She appeared to be in her late fifties or early sixties and had one of those no-nonsense looks about her. She’d make a great partner for Gretchen Morin.
“I was at the main recreation center pool yesterday when a man was escorted out for creating a disturbance. Well, I came here to tell you that it really wasn’t much of a disturbance and that I hope he doesn’t get into any trouble with the sheriff’s department.”
So far so good. I’m sticking to the truth.
“Yesterday? At what time?”
“Um, early afternoon. Around two.”
The volunteer officer typed something into the computer on her desk and waited. I wasn’t sure if I should make small talk or not and decided to keep my mouth shut. “Anything you say can and will be held against you.” In this case, I didn’t want to offer up any more information than I had to. I learned that from years of watching my cousin Kirk. The kid wasn’t satisfied digging himself into a hole where my aunt Ina was concerned; instead, he managed to trench out an entire abyss.
“I’m going over to Joey’s to play.”
“Be back by five for dinner.”
“We’re going to be in his yard playing with lawn darts.”
“With what?”
“Lawn darts. They’re called Jarts.”
“Who’s going to be watching you?”
“No one. His mom’s out shopping.”
“You’re not going. You can stay right here and play something safe in the house.”
Yep, if nothing else, my cousin taught me to respect that old adage, “Loose lips sink ships.” I smiled and kept still. Donna, the posse volunteer, tapped her fingers against the desk and stared at the screen.
“Oh yes, here it is. No, no charges were filed. The man wasn’t intoxicated or under the influence, so the matter was referred to the recreation center. It’s up to them if they decide to penalize him.”
“Penalize him? Like a fine?”
“No, they don’t do that. They might ban someone from using the pool or whatever area was in question for a while. Could be for a week, two weeks, sometimes as much as six months, depending upon the situation.”
I wonder if Streetman got the maximum penalty. . . .
“Oh, I’d hate to see that poor man banished for six months over something so minor.”
“Well, as I said, it’s up to the rec department and—”
Suddenly, the doors swung open as two officers tried to assist a very, very elderly woman inside. One of the officers shouted out, “Donna, can you bring a chair over here?”
“Of course.” The volunteer officer stood and turned to me. “Excuse me for a second.”
As Donna raced to get a chair, I sidestepped the desk and positioned myself so that I could get a good view of her computer screen. I only had a matter of seconds. I leaned slightly forward and scanned the page. Lots of details. Lots of writing. The name? Where the heck was the name?
I could hear Donna and the officers speaking as they tried to assist the lady. Please don’t watch me. Just help that lady. I literally had zero time to get the information I needed. Any second and Donna would be back at her desk. Damn! Where the heck was that name? I looked closer. She had scrolled down for the write-up. I edged in, prayed she wouldn’t turn around, and moved her mouse until it touched the side arrow to the right of the screen. Then I moved it up.
Why are they always able to find this stuff right away on TV? Someone shoves in a flash drive and unloads government secrets while the rest of us wait for that stupid buffering circle to quit spinning.
I scrolled up farther and held my breath. Bingo!
Jerry White
Jerry White. I repeated the name to myself, along with the other information I had managed to see—the name of his street and the number.
“Gosh, I hope that woman will be all right.” I took a few steps toward Donna so she wouldn’t notice I’d been snooping on her computer.
“She’s just confused. Not sure where she lives. They’ll get it straightened out. Anyway, as I was saying, there are no charges made against that gentleman.”
“I’m so relieved. Thank you again for your trouble and have a good day.”
“Same to you.”
The minute I got into my car, I wrote down the name and address of the man who was sputtering about a cursed book. Then I programmed what I had into the rental car’s GPS and waited. Voilà! He lived in Sun City West and only a few miles from my current location. Now all I needed to do was come up with a reason to pay him a visit.
Chapter 10
Whispering Oaks was a long, lovely street off the main drag. I had no idea why they named it Whispering Oaks since there wasn’t a single oak tree within miles. I guess the developers didn’t think Whispering Palms had the same ring to it.
Jerry White’s house was six or seven houses down on the right. It had a huge date palm tree in front, surrounded by a circle of smaller
palms. Everything looked immaculately groomed, including the house—freshly painted with bright coral trim. Whoever this man was, he certainly took care of his home.
In the five or six minutes it had taken me to get here, I hadn’t come up with a reason to talk to him. I couldn’t pretend to be selling anything, and it would look awfully strange if I walked up to his door to ask for directions. Then again, this was a senior community and maybe it wasn’t so unusual for people to get lost. I couldn’t very well sit there arguing with myself. What if Jerry was looking out his window, same as Herb Garrett. No, I had to make a move.
I got out of the car, leaned in to grab my notepad and pen, and started for his front door. Just then, the garage door opened and a small white dog came running out. Behind him was a man screaming his lungs out.
“Izzy! Get back here! Come on, boy. Get back!”
The dog was headed straight toward me and didn’t appear to be very threatening, so I ran over and got ahold of him by the collar. The man was only a few feet away and out of breath.
“Thanks so much! I thought I’d closed the door that leads to the garage when, all of a sudden, the dog escaped. I was on my way to the post office. Good thing you were in the neighborhood. I hate to think what could have happened. We have so many coyotes around here and Izzy is defenseless.”
The white dog looked at me as if to acknowledge what his owner had said. As he picked the little guy up, I got a good look at the man’s face and gasped. It was the middle-aged man with the jet-black mustache who was dining with Gretchen Morin that night in the Italian restaurant. First, Josie from the pool, now him. Maybe luck was on my side.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, yeah . . . I’m fine. I was taken back when you mentioned coyotes. I’m not from this area. In fact, I was trying to find, um, er . . .” I frantically tried to visualize the names of the other streets from the GPS and muttered “Foxfire Drive” before regaining my composure. “I was looking for Foxfire Drive and really blew it.”
“Oh, that’s just one street over. Go back to one hundred thirtieth, make your first right, and it will be there.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. By the way—”
Before I could finish, he cut in. “Say, haven’t I seen you at . . .”
I held my breath. What if he’d seen me in the restaurant? Well, so what? He doesn’t know who I am. It’s not as if he was going to pick up a phone and call the librarian.
“The dog park! That’s where I’ve seen you. I’m there first thing in the morning with Izzy and then again around seven at night. Like clockwork. Anyway, it was you. Talking with Cindy Dolton. Didn’t see your dog, though. What kind is it? Izzy is a Coton de Tulear. People always mistake him for a bichon and get on my case for not having him groomed properly. Can you believe it? So, which dog is yours? I might have seen it.”
Oh, you’ve seen him all right, but he’s not mine and I make no claim to him.
“I don’t own a dog. I was in the park for another reason. I was talking to Cindy Dolton about my mother’s friend who passed away recently. It’s so sad. Really. Cindy shared a hospital room with the woman.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your loss.”
Take a breath. This may work. This may actually work. Go for it!
“Yes, it was so sudden. So unexpected. And if that wasn’t enough, one of the woman’s dear friends told me about this book curse. You see, poor Minnie was reading some book from her book club, and I guess she wasn’t the only one in that club to pass away unexpectedly. Some of the ladies in that club believe it had something to do with the book.”
The man beamed as if I’d just told him the Publishers Clearing House van was on its way.
“Now, I’m not one to believe in all that hocus-pocus either,” he said. “But from what I’ve heard, that book should be avoided at all costs. Get it out of the library! I’ve heard firsthand that whoever reads it will have a pretty dark cloud following them. Maybe a death cloud.”
“A death cloud?” This guy obviously watched too many Star Wars movies. Even George Lucas wouldn’t be saying that.
“You said you heard it firsthand?”
“Not directly, no. But firsthand. I overheard the librarian talking about it to someone when I went to check out some books. That person wanted her to take the book off the shelf, and she refused. Policy and all that nonsense.”
I felt like screaming, “Liar! Liar! You know the librarian. You had dinner with her the other night!” But I acted nonplussed. “A book curse, huh?”
“You never know about these things. Bad juju and all of that.”
“Bad juju?” Who is he kidding? He’s beginning to sound like he just picked up the script for some old 1940s movie. “Well, I really don’t go in for all that stuff.”
“You can’t be too careful. Frankly, I’m warning anyone I see with that book. In fact, I was thinking of shooting off an e-mail to the local paper about it.”
I could understand why my mother would fall victim to this nonsense, but this guy struck me as someone who was manipulating the situation for his own good. The question remained, “Is he manipulating it to commit murder, and if so, why?”
I thanked him for his directions and took off for Mom’s. If nothing else, I’d be able to connect some dots to the names on my prized chart. The car’s air conditioner was set on maximum, but I was still uncomfortable. How do these people live here year-round? I ignored the speed limit and hoped I wouldn’t get caught. Slamming the car door shut, I raced to the front door as soon as I arrived.
A thin layer of perspiration clung to my body like Saran Wrap. I threw my bag on the couch the minute I walked into the house and headed straight for the shower. In three days, I’d gone through more shirts and undergarments than I did in a week back home. The shower was quick and I was just slipping on a clean top and shorts when Mom pulled in. With laundry in hand, I opened the door to the garage as she stepped out of the car.
“Whoa! Now that’s what I call service.”
“Hi! I thought I’d throw a load of wash in. I’m down to my last pair of—”
“Leave it there. Wait till after seven. That’s when the rates go down.”
I wasn’t about to argue over electricity rates with so much other stuff clogging up my brain. I put the laundry on top of the machine and walked back inside.
My mother wasted no time beginning her own interrogation. “So, did you get anywhere? What did you find out?”
“Sharpie markers work better than the other kind.”
“What?”
“I didn’t find out much. Remember I told you about a guy who made a huge disturbance at the pool yesterday because he was yelling about the book curse? Well, I tracked him down and spoke to him and you’ll never guess—”
“Tracked him down? You didn’t go into his house, did you? He could be dangerous.”
“No, I didn’t go into his house. Anyway, Mom, he was the guy at the restaurant. The one sitting at the table with the librarian.”
“Aha! So what did you find out?”
“Either he’s the biggest nutcase in your community, or he’s really dangerous after all. He could be using this book curse thing to cover up something worse.”
“How do you know that? Stay away from him.”
“I don’t know anything. I just have a funny feeling, that’s all. And I’m exhausted. Absolutely exhausted.”
“It’s a good thing it’s Thursday night. We can relax at the movies.”
“Movies? What movies?”
“Every Thursday night at the Stardust Theater they show a movie. It’s close. A few blocks from here, across from the sheriff’s posse station. Big beige stucco building.”
“Everything around here is stucco and beige. Did the developer find a sale on paint colors?”
“Don’t be silly. The specs for the complex stated that buildings must blend into the original desert landscape.”
“Fortunately you didn’t bu
y ocean-view property.”
My mother chose to ignore my last comment and continued on about the movie.
“It’s only two dollars. Tonight is Show Boat. We’ll have an early bite to eat and go. You can throw in your wash when we get home.”
“Show Boat? That movie was made before I was born.”
“Good. Something new for you to see. I’m going to get comfortable and then we’ll sit down and go over everything we’ve found out since you decided to start this investigation.”
“Decided? You mean got roped into, coerced, nagged . . .”
“Doesn’t matter. This book curse isn’t going away by itself.”
After what seemed like hours of comparing notes with my mother, I was actually glad to be going to a movie. Even if the heartthrob had been dead for decades.
* * *
The Stardust Theater reminded me of the old auditorium in my high school—upright no-nonsense seats and a strict no food or drink policy. No wonder it was only $2.00. Still, it gave my mother a short respite from all the anxiety she was feeling over the recent events.
We took our seats in the back by the aisle. I could slip out easily if I became too uncomfortable or too bored. Lucky for us we arrived early, because the place was filling up quickly. Show Boat apparently had quite the following. I was barely getting settled when my mother stood and whispered that she saw a friend of hers across the rows and wanted to say hello before the movie started.
I got up, let her out, and sat back down. The lights had started to dim, but they hadn’t opened the curtain yet to reveal the screen. Soft music was playing and people were still talking to one another. Surprisingly, there were a number of cell phones in use, too. Technology had reached this generation as well.
Figuring it was okay, I took out my iPhone to check my e-mail. I was busily scanning messages when I overheard the conversation behind me. Women’s voices. Seniors maybe, but far from elderly.
