Privy to Murder

by Carol Shenold

  * * *

  When Sean and I got home, Cass sat on the front porch, bags at her feet, looking like an orphan, again.

  “Hi, Mom, I’m home?”

  “So I see. You’ve been gone, let me think, a whole day, or is it two?” I unlocked the front door and let Sean in. Cass stood up and gathered her stuff.

  “Can I stay? I won’t be any trouble. I can sleep in the green room. Spike left, so he won’t be an issue.” Her voice cracked, and she avoided looking me in the eyes.

  She sounded so forlorn I knew something boyfriend-ish had happened. I held the door open for her to come in.

  A sucker once again, I was sure. I’m certain that empty nest syndrome will never be a factor in my life.

  “We’ve eaten but there’s lunch meat and bread in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

  Cass put her bags in the front room and went to the kitchen. Good, she was hungry. It couldn’t be too terrible.

  I joined her at the kitchen table. “You know if you live at home you have to work, either for me and Reneé or for someone else.”

  “No offense, Mom, but I don’t really want to do parties for other people. The Perked Cup had a sign in the window that said they’re looking for help, and I worked in a coffee house once. I know how to make cappuccino and espresso.”

  “You know what town you’re in. The black lipstick, kohl around the eyes, and pierced nose will have to go. You’d better go in for the interview squeaky clean.” I saw her expression cloud up. “Do what you want but Missy Watson is church-going conservative. She has scriptures on the menu. Just think about it.”

  “Okay, okay. It seems stupid though. It shouldn’t matter what I wear. I shouldn’t have to get a job anyway, it’s not like I’ll be costing you money. I don’t eat much.”

  “Who ended up with the car? I seem to remember you both putting up money for it, with my help.”

  “Spike had to have transportation to make it to gigs and I would just be here.”

  “So you’re expecting a ride to and from work, with me paying the gas and putting in time?”

  “Well, yeah. I guess.”

  “See why you might need to get a job and save up for your own car? Right now, I need you to watch Sean while I go to hunt down Frank Tannehill at City Hall and the Hard Living Band at the VFW.”

  Cass opened her mouth to protest but I cut her off.

  “Don’t even start. I’ll take you in to apply on Monday. Today you can help me out.”

  * * *

  The VFW was on the way to the Tannehill ranch so I could kill two birds, or at least wound them. I went out Highway 69 and turned down the lake road, then I took the VFW cut-off. I remembered camping out here as a kid. We had a tent at first and then a ratty old camper we left at a campsite for months in the spring and summer. Poor Mumsie never loved camping as much as we did. We thought we were in tall cotton, swimming every day, sleeping outside. Mumsie hated lake swimming, especially when the little perch could bite her on the legs.

  Dad loved it and taught us. He’d been an Eagle Scout and in the Army. After he died of pancreatic cancer, we lost the desire for camping. I never drove by LoveLake without thinking about him.

  The VFW sprawled out next to the side of the lake farthest from town. The parking lot was half-full already. People started early on Saturday. I saw the Hard Living truck and parked.

  The inside of the armory was so dark I had to stop and let my eyes adjust before I walked any further. The empty lobby echoed my footsteps but I spotted someone in the office off to the right.

  “Mel, how are you? Can you point me to the Hard Living Band? And while we’re talking, I need to reserve the space for the Calf-roping Queen Ball.”

  Mel James ran the VFW almost single-handed. She’d been there for as long as I could remember. Her bright red hair matched her nails, although she had to be at least seventy. I was never sure what foreign war she’d been in and was never brave enough to ask. Neither was anyone else I knew.

  “Sorry, hon. We’re booked up. I’ll put you on the waiting list but don’t get your hopes up. I can’t believe Sandy didn’t schedule it sooner. You’d better get a move on, girl, not much time. Band is out back.”

  I held back my disappointment and wound my way through the bar and out back. Only one member of the band, Jack Stafford, was there. He was sitting on a wooden chair, chair leaning against the wall, long legs stretched out in front, boots up on a crate, chin on his chest and hat over his eyes. He looked very much the cowboy but he graduated high school about the same time I did, then started traveling with a local band. His ranch experience consisted of killing a calf once. He’d had the choice between joining 4H or taking Home Economics. After he forgot to feed the calf, the school decided it would be cheaper to give him a free period than to continue losing livestock.

  Jack took the cowboy hat off his face and looked up at me.

  “Hey, Tali. Long time no see. I heard you were back. What’s up? Also heard you were running the Queen Ball at the last minute.”

  “It’s called money, Jack. Speaking of, can you guys play for it? You did great last week at Mag’s, in spite of the excitement.”

  “Don’t see why not but I’ll have to talk to Mason. He does the booking and I don’t know for sure if we have anything that night.”

  “Let me know as soon as you can because I’m under the gun here.”

  “Mason will be back in a few. Pull up a chair.” He rubbed the movie star stubble he currently sported. His hair was rock star spiked, a contradiction in styles, just like his personality.

  “Tell me what’s up with the Mag thing,” he said. “Who does JT think killed her? What’s Frank up to with Betty Ann and does Reneé know about any of this?”

  “I wish I knew. I got the feeling she wasn’t making friends everywhere she went although her same old clique is hanging around. Frank is surviving well. He and Betty Ann appear close. I haven’t talked to Reneé since all this happened.”

  “Betty Ann and Frank have gotten closer than Reneé will like.” He raised his eyebrows. “She’ll be pissed when she gets back from wherever unless she already guessed.”

  “Why would Reneé care who Frank run’s around with?”

  “Not talking out of school. Just ask her when you see her. There’s a reason or two that Frank isn’t a grieving widower, the least of which is Mag’s temper.”

  I heard clomping on the wooden floor that sounded like a giant was on the way. A large, long shadow appeared, followed by a little leather-faced man who moved as if he’d just gotten off a horse, and he probably had.

  Mason Jackson had retired from ranching a few years back, swearing that anything would be better than the hand-to-mouth existence of making a living on a small ranch. Everyone thought he was crazy to start a band. They were wrong.

  “Tali, girl. Good to see you. Hope you aren’t here about the Queen Ball. Laurel McIntyre just booked us for some charity gig that night. Sorry. I know you’re under the gun.”

  I was sorry too and felt the anger running through me. Laurel knew I needed a band and did her best to keep me from getting one. Why the blue blazes did she want to see me fail so badly? Maybe it was because of the Cherilyn feud, and I got it by way of fall out. Whatever it was, I was already sick of it and knew we’d end up having it out, one way or another.

  “It’s alright, Mason. I know it’s last minute. I’ll find a place and music if I have to hold it on the football field and play DJ myself.”

  He laughed.

  I grimaced, knowing it was closer to reality than he realized.

  * * *

  I left the VFW, having accomplished nothing I started out to do. When I got out of the car at the Tannehill’s,I had the sinking feeling that I’d have the same bad luck there. The Gods were against me. I rang the doorbell and waited. Pretty soon Donna came to the door.

  “What do you want?” She looked at me as if she’d never seen me before.

  “Hi, Donna. How are yo
u doing? Your Dad said to come by today for the party check.”

  “I’ll go see.” She closed the door, leaving me out in the heat. No one taught her that southern etiquette calls for an offer of water at least if not cool shade. It was not cool on the porch in the hottest part of the day.

  I looked around. No traces of the party remained that I could see. I still wanted to check out the back myself and make sure JT hadn’t missed anything. He would hate that if he knew.

  The door flew back open so fast I jumped back. Betty Ann stood there waving a check in the air.

  “Here’s your check. I can’t believe you charge this much, especially after what happened. I told Frank he shouldn’t even pay you at all, considering. You have some nerve.”

  So much for the truce, I thought, grabbing the check. Yay, the full amount. Now I could pay some bills, give Mumsie some rent money that she wouldn’t take.

  “Thanks, I appreciate . . .” Betty Ann slammed the door in my face again. Great. I felt so wanted. I could still be in the corporate world if I wanted this much conflict. If just one thing could go right. That’s all I asked, I told myself on the drive back to town. One thing, I told the cop who pulled me over for speeding before I got home.

  Chapter Seven

  By Sunday Reneé’s answering machine was full. I pictured a crazy, knife-wielding killer going after her. When I found her, if she was all right, I’d kill her for worrying me.

  Mumsie rushed around in a housecleaning frenzy, her short gray hair tied up in a bandana. The pockets of her overalls bulged with cleaning supplies. It wasn’t really like her to be that domestic.

  “Tali, come help me dust,” she invited. “Then I’ll put bowls of salt water around to soak up negative energy.”

  “Bowls of water? That’s a new one.”

  “Actually it’s quite ancient, and sometimes takes out any unwanted leftover spirit energy.”

  I looked at her, hope springing. “Will it take out Mag?”

  “No, just any leftover traces. You’re talking about exorcism and that doesn’t always work and should be used sparingly, for evil spirits only.”

  “Mag is. Evil, I mean.”

  Mumsie laughed. “You haven’t seen evil. Mag’s just pissed because she’s dead.”

  I wished Mumsie’s spirits would tell me something useful, like who killed Mag, and why. They only seemed to impart bits of information when it suited them. Of course if they actually told me what was happening, I’d have to acknowledge their reality.

  “Amen Ka said not to worry about Reneé.” Mumsie said. “Of course Chung Po didn’t agree, but he never does.”

  “What exactly did they say? Where is Reneé and why hasn’t she called?”

  “They didn’t give me any details.”

  “Well, what the hell good is that? I need details and answers.” I remembered when Cass left a note on the windshield, think she was thirteen at the time. Said ‘Don’t come get me, I’ll be fine. I’m helping Becky run away.’ Had to send the sheriff to get her. Boy, was she pissed when he found her and Becky. She’d been fine.

  The thing was, Reneé wasn’t thirteen. I needed her because she was my sounding board. She would help me figure out the murder, the party, and everything else. She was the reason I survived my life this year with Brian and his crises, Cass and her rebellion, the job loss, moving. She’d been the lifesaver I’d hung on to.

  Even when I’d married and moved to Dallas, we’d stayed close. We’d been friends since third grade, loved and hated the same teachers, the same boys. She was there for me, always.

  I had a bad feeling about this whole mess. But Reneé was a prime suspect in Mag’s murder, since she disappeared. So was Frank with his girl friends and me with the arguments. Every instinct said run as fast as you can. Don’t get any more involved in the murder than you can avoid.

  Mumsie and I spent the rest of the morning sweeping, mopping, finding dust bunnies under beds. We destroyed cobwebs everywhere. I thought they kind of added character, Mumsie didn’t

  Cass was convinced we only straightened up the mess in order to irritate her and ruin her morning. She wandered into the kitchen about eleven. Where Sean was dark, like me, Cass had light skin, blonde hair when it wasn’t dyed black, and piercing blue eyes, more like Brian in looks and personality. Mumsie and I sat down in the kitchen for raspberry tea.

  “Where’s breakfast?” she asked, opening the refrigerator door as if she expected food to appear before her.

  “Cleaned up. Actually it’s almost lunch time,” I said. “Did you fold the blankets and stuff in the green room? We just need to straighten that room in order to finish. You can dust and vacuum after you get dressed.”

  “That room is hot, and no one goes in it unless they have to, so why should it need cleaning? And I am dressed.”

  “A tee shirt and panties isn’t dressed. You have a little brother. He’ll be home shortly. The room needs cleaned because you’re sleeping there, because it’s grimy, because I said. Also, the front door opens into that room, and I expect it to be clean.”

  “That’s not fair.” She rattled around in the refrigerator, poured orange juice and came to the table. “And don’t tell me how life isn’t. I know that already. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Life is tough,” I agreed, grinning at Mumsie.

  “Oh, bite me.” Cass took her juice and flounced out of the room, as much as one can flounce wearing fluffy puppy dog slippers.

  “She’ll be okay,” Mumsie promised.

  “Did your spirits promise that too?”

  “Not everything requires divine intervention. Sometimes it’s just common sense. You survived to adulthood, in spite of ups and downs. So will Cass.”

  I refrained from comment and went to take a shower. I pulled on jeans and tee shirt, my favorite red Dog Bar shirt from Colorado. I had to get out, away from everyone. Forget about ghosts and murder.

  * * *

  Love Lake might clear my head of its cobwebs. No swimmers, quiet. I grabbed a couple of bottles of water and some cheese and crackers. The car had already turned into an oven but I hoped for a lake breeze.

  I picked a rock to sit on while I ate my makeshift lunch, and watched resident mallards swim around, intent upon catching their own treats. A strong swimmer could swim across the small man-made lake with no trouble. A strong walker could jog around it in under an hour. Typical North Texas flat land surrounded the lake. A few trees dotted the camping side. No hills were in sight.

  It wasn’t a post-card landscape, but pelicans flew by, their wings flapping gracefully. The damp grass smelled sweet. A fish-tangy scent brought back childhood camping with my Dad. Chickadees, cardinals, wrens, and even the occasional killdeer competed for song space.

  I heard voices off to one side but didn’t see anyone. Obviously the voices’ owners didn’t see me.

  “I told you it would work. You worry too much.” It was a male voice, nondescript, no particular characteristic. I heard a murmur, slightly higher pitched, but couldn’t make out the words.

  “See. There you go again. There’s no one out here to hear us and even if they were, what would they say? That they heard two people talking? So what? I am not too loud.”

  Murmur again.

  “No. And she’d better not or she’ll be sorry. We have too many people poking into our business as it is.”

  The other voice again, a little more forceful.

  “Maybe she’s out of the picture. It’s the other one that makes me nervous. She’s a little too nosey for me. But I think we’ll be just fine. I’ll work on scaring her off if she gets too close to any answers. She deserves anything she gets.”

  More sharp words.

  “Hubby just better take care of business himself, what with a dead wife and girlfriends one and two.”

  Both voices faded out.

  I knew just where the voices came from—an abandoned lake house a few feet west of this inlet. As I stood up and went down to the shore, I a
voided crunching sounds on the gravel. Maybe I could circle around and find out who was talking.

  I might be paranoid, but I could have sworn they were talking about me. I tiptoed through the water, close to the back of the cabin, then my years of training in grace and agility went down the drain. Accompanied by the sounds of falling gravel, startled mallards, and my own scream, I slipped, flew off the rock I was standing on, and landed in the lake.

  Chapter Eight

  “What the hell was that?” I heard the voice say. “I’m out of here. You find a ride home. We can’t be seen together, now, can we?”

  Shit. What a bitch. I heaved myself up, dripping water and blood from everywhere. Well, water. Blood only came from one elbow I cut on the rocks. Boy, if my life ever depended on sneaking around, I’d be dead in a heartbeat.

  By the time I climbed out of the shallow water and squished my way to the clearing in front of the old house, it was empty. I hadn’t recognized the one voice, or heard enough of the other to tell if it was male or female. I couldn’t even swear the conversation had anything to do with me or Mag, although the dead wife crack led me to think so. So much for my detecting skills.

  My abandoned lunch was now inhabited by ants. “Just great,” I told the mallards, throwing the rest of the crackers to them.

  Were the voices talking about me? Questions rattled around in my brain all the way home, not connecting with answers.

  I refused to be my mother, fascinated by the weird and mysterious. I liked sane and didn’t want to have to figure out life. Besides, mystery meant danger and risk, getting kicked out of town, out of my home.

  * * *

  I drove back to the house, threw my lunch in the trash, put on dry clothes, and flopped on the couch. I pretended to relax. Mumsie walked in with a giant bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream and two spoons. She had changed from her cleaning costume to her reading one, a brightly colored caftan.