by J. J. Murray
“But Freddy didn’t divorce Blanche, did he?”
She looks out the window. “No.”
“How did that make you feel, Dodie?”
She turns back to me. “It didn’t make me feel good, I can tell you that.”
My heart beats a little faster. “I’ll bet wearing Freddy’s ring makes you feel good.”
I see her blinking rapidly. “Why, yes, of course it makes me feel good.”
Dodie was there all right. “How did you get the ring, Dodie?”
“Freddy gave it to me.”
“When?”
Dodie pushes the letters from her lap. “I don’t remember. I’m old. Let’s … let’s go home. I’m feeling a chill, and we don’t want to be caught up here during a storm.” She cranks down the windshield. “Well, start it up and let’s go.”
Thunder rumbles all around us, and lightning blitzes the sky.
“Okay.”
I roll up my window, start up the truck, turn around, and head down the mountain. A few large drops of rain hit the windshield. I turn on the wiper, and it barely clears the drops. I watch the speedometer creep close to thirty, downshift into second gear, and press harder on the brakes as the rain begins to thicken and ping off the hood. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Dodie.”
“I’m not upset.”
Yes she is. “I’ll help you collect up all the letters.”
Dodie rolls up her window. “What would I want them for?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m sure they’ll bring back memories.”
“Bad memories best left forgotten.”
“Oh, not all of them will be bad, right?”
“Just take me home.”
This isn’t working out as I had planned. “I’ll, um, I’ll take the letters then.”
“And burn them.”
I nod. “Sure, Dodie.”
The skies open up like a waterfall as I put it in first gear and creep up Dodie’s precipitous driveway, the back tires fishtailing wildly to the left. When I set the parking brake, the truck slides back some before stopping. I will have to adjust and tighten this parking brake. I turn to Dodie. “I’m sorry we—”
Dodie racks the slide of a Walther P22 pistol and points it at me. “I’m sorry, too, Gio. I really am.”
Chapter 33
“Dodie, what are you doing?”
“You have always been too smart for your own good, Gio Ferrari,” she says. “Turn off the truck.”
I turn off the truck, and my hands shake. “What’s going on, Dodie?”
“Give me your cell phone,” Dodie says.
I take my cell phone from my pocket and hand it to her. “I can’t get a signal up here.”
Dodie smashes the phone against the dashboard until it winks out.
“I thought you had low iron, Dodie.”
“I don’t,” Dodie says. “I haven’t been sick a day in my life because I always eat right. And I don’t miss high and to the left, dear, not with my Winchester, and not with this Walther, so put your hands into your lap like a proper lady and don’t move a muscle if you know what’s good for you.”
I rest my sweaty hands on my thighs. Her Walther has a ten-round capacity magazine, and though one .22 bullet might not stop me, nine more in succession would. “I don’t understand, Dodie.”
“Oh sure you do,” Dodie says. “You’ve been baiting me all night.”
Help me, Lord! “I haven’t. Really. I only wanted to fulfill Freddy’s wish to take you for a ride in this truck.”
“Uh-huh. I saw you looking at my car when you arrived.”
“Because I always look at your car when I visit you,” I say. “You know I want to fix it up for you.”
“You were counting hubcaps, weren’t you?”
I nod.
“So you know I lost another one.”
“Yep.”
“And that kind of puts me near the scene of the crime,” she says. “A single hubcap is my undoing.” She picks up a letter and tosses it at me. “You read all these, didn’t you?”
“Not all of them.”
“Uh-huh. I know what you’re thinking. Did she or didn’t she? Well, I guess you know by now … that I did.”
“Did what, Dodie?”
“I killed Freddy.”
But she couldn’t do that! “It was an accident, wasn’t it? I mean, the coroner—”
“Doesn’t know bupkis,” Dodie interrupts. “I’m sure you know more than that crummy creep ever will. Show me how smart you are, Gio. What do you know?”
I only thought I knew a few things. “I know Freddy didn’t give you that ring. He couldn’t get it off his finger. You took the ring from his finger.”
She pulls the necklace up until the ring appears. She rests it against her chest. “I earned this ring.” She squints as lightning flashes, thunder growling a split-second later. “Looks like we’re getting our storm, huh? I hope it saves my daisies.”
I stare at the little barrel of the pistol. If I can snatch it before she fires—
“What else do you know?” she asks.
Maybe if I can keep her talking, I’ll survive this. “I know Freddy dressed up for you that day. He trimmed his beard and put on his Sunday best. He even took a bath, didn’t he?”
Dodie nods. “He smelled like Dial soap. I imagine he used an entire bar. He was such a beautiful, big man. He even scraped the dirt out of his fingernails. Occupational hazard for cowpokes, you know. He had such big, strong hands.”
What else do I know? “And you brought him some fried chicken.”
“It was Blanche’s recipe,” she says. “He ate most of it. It’s not exactly breakfast food, you know.”
So she was there early in the morning. “What did you do with the leftovers?”
“I put them in the fridge, of course. Where else do you put leftovers?”
“You didn’t give them to Jack?”
“Well, I did the second time I visited. Fried chicken won’t keep but for so long, you know.”
My chest tightens, and I feel a little light-headed.
She visited Mr. Simmons … twice.
“Um, did you bring Freddy something for dessert?”
“Oh, I tried making Blanche’s orange cream chiffon cake again, but it still came out hard as a brick and as plump as a pumpkin. So I made him my famous cinnamon chocolate chip cookies.” She removes the foil from the plate. “These are all that are left.”
I may be looking at a plate of murder weapons. That plate might have Mr. Simmons’ DNA and fingerprints on it, too. “And he enjoyed your cookies.”
“Oh yes. At first. But he only ate half of one.”
I can’t stop my lips from trembling. “Why did he only eat half of one, Dodie?”
“Freddy choked on it,” she says. “He always ate too fast. Ate like a horse, he did. Inhaled food without chewing it sometimes. Probably why he got so big. He didn’t even taste Blanche’s cooking, I’m sure. He just wolfed it down.”
She fed him, he choked, and it eventually killed him. “And what did you do when he was choking?”
“I got him something to drink, of course. Best well water in Gray County. Cool, sweet, and delicious.”
“So you tried to help him,” I say.
“Of course I did,” Dodie says. “He was my first love.”
“So it was all an accident,” I say. “I’m so sorry, Dodie.”
Dodie shakes her head. “No. I can’t say it was an accident.”
She meant for it to happen? “Did Freddy stop coughing?”
“No. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Because of the cinnamon, I suspect. Cinnamon oil is awful potent.” She smiles. “So, Gio, what did I do next?”
“You went into the kitchen to call nine-one-one.”
“I most certainly did. I went into the kitchen, I picked up the receiver, and I dialed the nine.” She looks at the Walther. “But then I put the receiver back down.”
“Why did you put the receiver do
wn, Dodie?”
“I don’t expect you to understand, Gio.”
I probably won’t.
“Why do you think I didn’t call nine-one-one?” she asks.
I have no earthly idea! “You were … hoping he’d cough up the cookie?”
“What good would that have done? Try again.”
“You were … paying him back for him making you wait for seventy years.”
“It was nothing as dramatic as that, Gio, but not a bad guess. You see, I looked at that telephone and realized I had called that very phone for many, many years and Blanche always answered it. Freddy never answered it. I would say, ‘I would like to speak to Freddy, please,’ and Blanche would say ‘Who’s calling?’ as if she didn’t already know it was me, and I would say, ‘Dodie Loney,’ and Blanche would say, ‘He’s out with the cows, Dodie. Can I take a message?’ As if she didn’t know the real reason I was calling her husband. ‘Tell him I love him,’ I would say, and Blanche would say, ‘I’ll relay the message’ or ‘I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that’ or ‘He knows you love him, Dodie.’ And she ended every conversation by saying, ‘Have a blessed day.’”
I think all of this shows intent, Your Honor.
“I knew Blanche was toying with me, so I toyed back. I’d go to church and sit behind the two of them and whisper to him and write love notes on the offering envelopes and slide them into Freddy’s suit pockets during prayers. Oh, I know I was supposed to be praying, but one of us had to keep our love alive. And don’t you know, Blanche would take those love notes from his pocket while I was watching her do it. The nerve! Taking what wasn’t hers.”
This woman is insane. “So instead of calling nine-one-one, you took the phone.”
“The second night, yes. I took Blanche’s phone and put it in my car. I think it looks so nice on my kitchen wall, don’t you think? Such a lovely yellow.”
“It is a lovely yellow.” And it will soon be in an evidence bag. “But when you returned to the living room, was Freddy still choking?”
“Yes. I tried to calm him down, but it was no use. I tried to help him stand so I could do that Heimlich maneuver thing, but I couldn’t budge him. I tried to get him to drink more water, but he kept coughing it up. It was quite a mess.”
Because it’s called frothy sputum.
“It was such a mess that I had to find him another shirt,” Dodie says, “and it was really hard putting it on him, let me tell you, what with him coughing and me trying to move him around.”
“You skipped a button,” I say.
“You might have skipped one, too, if you had to dress Freddy,” she says. “I found the shirt in the guest room closet. The closet in the master bedroom was empty. Freddy didn’t sleep in the master bedroom. That should tell you something. He couldn’t even stand the thought of sleeping in the bed where Blanche used to sleep.”
Because he missed his wife. Because he loved her, he respected her, and he couldn’t sleep where his beloved wife had slept. “So he slept in the guest room.”
“Funny, isn’t it? He treated himself like he was a guest in his own house.”
And his last guest let him die. “And the guest room is where you saw the green phone and hid it under the bed.”
“I wanted to take it, too, but it didn’t match anything in my house.”
That is so petty! “And after you put on the clean shirt, Freddy stopped choking.”
“Well, no. He was having a terrible time breathing. He sounded kind of like a whistle.” She whistles several times. “He sounded like the goldfinches and warblers that flit about my daisies. His whistling was actually kind of catchy. But so loud! It rattled the front windows.”
Because he was trying to call for help! “What did you do with the soiled shirt?”
“I took it home and washed it. It makes the best nightshirt. I can almost wrap it around myself three times.”
I see police tape wrapping around your cottage soon, Dodie. If lightning doesn’t strike it and reduce it to cinders first. The thunder is really rolling now, and the truck is shaking. I can barely see through the windshield the rain is so thick. “When did you take the ring?”
“I tried to take it the first visit, but it wouldn’t budge off his fat finger, not even with some melted butter. I thought about cutting it off, but Freddy’s knives were all too dull. He didn’t have a Tallie tinker nearby to sharpen them, did he? I brought some gardening shears on my second visit, but cooking oil worked just fine. I waited seventy years for it, but I got it.” She turns the ring toward me. “I got the ring Blanche gave him that I should have given him. And guess what? I’ll be buried wearing his ring, not her.”
It will be in an evidence box, Dodie, provided I can somehow get out of this mess. “And after your second visit, you left for good.”
“Oh, I had to kiss him one last time before I left.”
This is beginning to remind me of “A Rose for Emily,” a William Faulkner short story. “And he was still alive the first time.”
“Nope, both times.”
He was still alive … while I was there.
“He was still whistling, of course.” She squints. “Not as loudly the second time. Almost a whispered whistle. It sounded right sexy, too.”
Dodie could have saved him twice! He choked and whistled for at least twenty-four hours! If I had known, I could have saved him! Mr. Simmons, forgive me for not knocking on your door sooner!
“Now, the first time I left, I wanted to stomp all of Blanche’s daisies, but I was tired. Putting that shirt on Freddy took a lot out of me. I figured the drought would get them anyway. But when I started driving down that path to the creek, that old heifer jumped in my way. I got out to shoo her away, but she kept mooing at me. She needed to be milked, don’t you know. I could have left her to suffer, but she sounded so pitiful. You understand what it’s like not to be milked, don’t you? I had to drive back up to the house, go inside, and get a milk jug from Freddy’s fridge.” She sighs. “I guess that was for the best. It gave me another chance to talk to him.”
I look at the barrel of the Walther. If she pulled the trigger now, she’d hit me in the chest. “What did you say to him?”
“That’s private.” She giggles. “Oh, we’re two women of the world, so I can tell you. I told him that I loved him, that he was the best lover I ever had, that he was the only lover I ever had, and that he should have married me instead of Blanche Zengler. He looked at me with those big eyes of his … and then he whistled.” She smiles. “I said he was fresh for whistling at me like that, but I accepted the compliment. Then I emptied his jug of milk down the drain, found that heifer, and milked her right there in front of my car.”
She could plead insanity and beat any conviction. “That was the milk you gave me later that day.”
“Yes. Yes it was. Wasn’t it delicious? Freddy’s cows gave the sweetest milk in the world.”
“Then you clogged up the vent in your fridge so I would come over.”
She purses her lips. “You knew I did that.”
I nod. “Why?”
“Well, I like your company, Gio. You aren’t like the other Tallies because you’re not one hundred percent Tallie. But you really should try to stay out of the sun. You’re turning entirely too dark to be a proper lady.”
And your mind is too dark for you to be human. “Dodie, what really happened to your cats?”
“I guess they’re pushing up daisies now.” She points the Walther toward her cottage. “I buried them under the daisies. They make excellent compost. Add this rain and their rotting guts, and those daisies will be saluting the sun in no time.”
Oh no! “How … how did they die?”
“It must have been what I fed them. They were getting so fat, you know, so I fed them salad from my garden. Some of them took a long time to die, too. They must have had some Zengler blood in them. The others, well, I had to hurry them along. A couch pillow makes an excellent silencer, you know.”
Those poor cats!
Dodie picks up the plate of cookies. “Would you like a cookie?”
“No thank you, Dodie. I’m trying to watch my weight.” And live through the night.
Dodie puts the plate up on the dashboard. “Oh, I understand, dear. Men these days want a skinny woman.”
Men these days want a sane woman. “Why did you call me over to fix something you knew wasn’t broken?”
“I had to find out how Freddy was, didn’t I? I had to see if he was still alive. And you were the one to talk to. I watched you in my scope fixing that tractor. So much rust!”
“You didn’t ever fire your rifle while you were up there, did you?”
“You know a Winchester thirty-thirty is only accurate to two hundred yards, Gio. Freddy got close enough once a couple years back, but the wind wasn’t right.” She laughs. “I probably could have dropped him anyway, as big as he was.”
This woman is very sick.
“Anyway, when I asked you how Freddy was, you told me he was fine, so I didn’t worry about him. But I did start to worry about what I left behind. You know, the chicken, the ring.”
“You went back after I left your house that morning.”
“I had to.”
Why didn’t I see her driving through town? Oh, that’s right. After I left her, I was at The Swinging Bridge and the buffalo farm. We never would have crossed paths.
“And when you arrived the second time, Freddy was still alive.”
She nods. “And I thought those Zenglers were hard to kill. They didn’t have anything on Freddy Rose Simmons. I guess fat people take a lot longer to die, huh? If I had choked, I would have died in seconds, as skinny as I am.”
If I live through this, I am going to be the star witness at this woman’s trial. If there is a trial. Dodie may not be competent enough to stand trial. “So the second day you collected the phone, fed Jack the chicken, and took the ring.”
“Yes. I’m so glad I went back. I wore my gardening gloves in case anyone asked why I had shears in my car. That would have been hard to explain. Those gloves came in so handy wiping the doorknobs, the counter, and anything else I thought I might have touched.”
This woman is touched, but she clearly knew what she was doing.
