“Your car was blocking it. You should have pulled in more. Now, are you going to get up out of that chair? Stop ‘playing’ at being a detective and do something about it?”
Sabrina was now standing directly in front of her husband with her arms folded, the bags of groceries now at her feet. Sam Taylor noticed that she was tapping her right foot. Sabrina tapping her right foot only meant one thing--she was annoyed and wouldn’t rest until Sam dealt with that annoyance immediately. This was all he needed. Didn’t she know he was busy? Of course she did, but she didn’t care. Playing detective? No. He wasn’t playing anything. He was researching. Researching Elliott Miller and he was getting closer to finding something.
“Go next door and tell them to stop putting notes on my car,” shouted Sabrina. She thrust the note into her husband’s hand.
TO WHOMEVER IT CONCERNS,
PLEASE STOP PARKING ON OUR GRASS!!! IT IS VERY DISRESPECTFUL. YOU HAVE A BIG ENOUGH DRIVEWAY AND YOU CAN PARK THERE OR ON YOUR OWN GRASS. THE OLD MAN WHO LIVED THERE BEFORE YOU, MAY HE REST IN PEACE, NEVER DID SUCH A RUDE AND INCONSIDERATE THING. IT IS SIMPLY DISGUSTING AND RUDE!!! WE HAVE LIVED HERE LONGER THAN YOU AND WE DESERVE RESPECT. NEVER, EVER DO IT AGAIN!!!!
THANK YOU,
YOUR VERY ANNOYED NEIGHBORS!!!!
Sam shook his head and stood up. This was wasting valuable time, and it was the last thing he needed to be dealing with right now
“It’s shouting, that’s what it is. When you write in big bold letters like that and use exclamation points, you’re shouting. He was shouting at me. They were shouting at me. Now go around there and tell them who you are and tell them it isn’t their grass.”
“It isn’t ours, dear.”
“It isn’t theirs either.” Sabrina’s foot began to tap faster.
“The point is, Sam, they think that they can bully us. Just because they have lived here longer than us. And according to Betty Jenkins, they only moved in themselves a couple of months before we did. Well, I won’t let them bully or intimidate me. I noticed a scratch on my car yesterday that wasn’t there the day before. That is out-and-out vandalism. As a policeman, you know that. Bullies and vandals, that’s all they are.”
Sam rolled his eyes and before putting on his shoes, glanced at his desk. “Don’t touch anything,” he said to his wife. “I will be back in a minute. And who the heck is Betty Jenkins?”
Sam had no problems with his neighbors. He and Sabrina had only been living in the neighborhood a few months and he had hardly spoken to them. He certainly didn’t hate them. The last thing he wanted was any confrontation, but Sabrina, well Sabrina was like that. She was always looking for an argument or a fight. As he approached the front door of his neighbor’s home, he inspected his wife’s car. He noticed a faint and tiny scratch, probably caused by another car door touching hers in a parking lot. He then peered along the street. Quiet and peaceful. Gordonston was not the same place it had been three years ago. Once the press had left and the news had become old, things had gotten back to normal--peaceful, secluded and most importantly for Sam, quiet. The peace and quiet Sam Taylor needed to investigate Elliott Miller…and his connection…. well his connection to most of the strange things that seemed to have happened in Gordonston.
“Who is it?” said the voice behind the door, which Sam felt was a little rude. Why not just open the door and see who it was? It wasn’t as though they were living in some crime-ridden, inner-city ghetto.
“Your neighbor. Sam Taylor,” replied Sam, who quickly glanced at his watch. He shrugged, precious time wasted, and he wanted to get back to his study. The books were waiting.
The door opened and a wiry thin man with bad plastic surgery but superbly white teeth appeared. Behind him stood a smaller man, overweight, wearing a dressing gown and sporting a ridiculous looking goatee beard, with just as equally bright shining teeth and just as bad and obvious plastic surgery. Sam felt like recoiling. They looked ridiculous, like aged and grotesque toy ‘Ken’ dolls. Absolutely hideous, thought Sam.
The smaller man appeared to be hiding behind the taller man, as if he was using him as a shield and protection from Sam. It quickly became apparent to Sam who was the one wearing the trousers in this relationship.
“Hi, Sam Taylor, your neighbor,” Sam offered out his hand which the wiry man shook first, followed by the shorter man. Sam noted that both handshakes were weak, an indication to Sam that the two men were not at all confident or of substantial character. This, thought Sam, would be easy.
“Robert and Danny” said the wiry man, “I’m Robert, this is my friend Danny,” said Robert, his voice camp and his mannerisms even more so, as he indicated towards his partner.
“Hi, Robert. Danny,” said Sam smiling, nodding as spoke in a friendly gesture to Danny who still remained behind Robert, resting his head on his friends shoulder. “Look, I just want to apologize for my wife. I know she has been parking in front of your house and I have asked her to stop. So, if possible, could we please try and be friends? Forget about this and move on? We really don’t want any trouble.”
“Well that’s all we want, a quiet life, not sure about the friends bit though,” replied Robert. “But it’s our grass and really she has been very rude. Hasn’t she Danny?” Danny nodded. “It isn’t the first time. You should really control her.”
Sam didn’t like the way this was going. He felt himself flush with anger, but took a deep breath and fought the urge to punch Robert in the face there and then. The last thing Sam needed was to get arrested for knocking out his openly gay neighbors, though the temptation was there. He had more pressing matters to deal with.
“That’s why I left the note,” said Danny. “She just doesn’t get it. This isn’t the first time she has parked on our land. I have left notes before. Is she retarded or something?”
“No. My wife is not retarded, and technically it isn’t your land. And there is no need to shout.”
Who’s shouting?” asked Robert, his tone condescending.
“Your note. The bold letters and exclamation marks--that’s technically shouting. Look, guys, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to move on. I’m an open-minded sort of fellow, and as you probably know, I was the chief of police. Well, you know, all I am saying is give peace a chance, let’s keep it friendly and move on.”
It was immediately apparent to Sam that neither Robert nor Danny found his reference to the John Lennon song remotely funny; or maybe they just didn’t get it.
“Oh, we understand it now. You know the law, do you? Chief of police are you?” asked Danny.
“Was,” corrected Sam
“Never mind that, Mr. Open Minded. You are nothing but a bigot. You obviously have a thing about gay people. You obviously don’t agree with our lifestyle, coming over to our home, threatening us,” said Robert, who had now folded his arms as Danny patted him on the shoulder, reassuring him that he was there for him, and encouraging him not to get to upset. Robert touched Danny’s hand in a show of affection.
“I really don’t,” protested Sam, almost laughing at the absurdity of the conversation. “I have nothing against your lifestyle, or your sexuality, I really don’t care. This is about parking, and I am here to just let you know that there isn’t a problem.” Both Robert and Danny shook their heads. This was definitely not going as Sam had planned.
“Look, she won’t park there again. It’s your grass. Have it. I understand. It isn’t a problem,” smiled Sam, wishing he had never knocked on his neighbors’ door in the first place.
“Well, that’s good. Because if she parks there again, we will call the police,” said Robert “and just because you think you are important…”
“I really don’t think I am important. Just an old retired policeman looking for a quiet life,” interrupted Sam.
Robert raised his hand, an indication that he wasn’t even listing to the perplexed Sam.
“…. Just because you think you are important doesn’t mean you are. We are friends w
ith the real police chief. You know him? Well, if you park on our grass again, I won’t hesitate, won’t hesitate to call Jeff Morgan, who isn’t an ex anything. Who isn’t retired and is, I am sure you are well aware, the current police chief.” Without seeming to pause for breath Robert continued. “And Jeff is a good friend to the gay community, and I promise you, he won’t tolerate, won’t tolerate this harassment, or your bigotry, bullying, threats, and demands. Good day to you.” And with that, he slammed the door in front of Sam Taylor shut.
For a few seconds, Sam stood at his neighbor’s door in shock. He considered knocking, just to clarify to Robert and Danny that he was not, never had been, and likely never would be homophobic. He had merely come to apologize. Instead of knocking and starting round two of the ‘war of neighbors,’ he shook his head and returned home.
“How did it go, dear?” asked Sabrina as Sam entered their home, her voice coming from his study.
“Oh, just great, I told them not to leave anymore notes. They were fine about it, nice guys actually, told me that they were sorry and to pass on their apologies to you. They agreed not to leave any more notes. Just forget it now. Where are you? What are you doing?” Sam already knew the answer to both of his questions.
Sam Taylor did not like his wife being in his study at the best of times, let alone now, while he was in the middle of an investigation. The last thing he needed was Sabrina poking her nose into his own poking-his-nose-into-things. It was too late though.
“Why on earth are you checking up on the mayor?” asked Sabrina as Sam walked into his office.
“I’m not,” lied Sam.
“Yes you are, I just read your notebook. What has he ever done to you? Are you jealous of him? That he has a pretty wife maybe?” said Sabrina. Once again, her foot tapping.
Sam Taylor’s shoulders slumped. Jeff Morgan, Elliott Miller, his wife, now Danny and Robert…all of them were driving him absolutely bonkers. Maybe he should take a leaf out of Doug Partridges’ book and dig a big hole in the park for all of them.
“Look, dear – it isn’t anything. I am just interested in him. Not his wife, I promise you. I just was curious. You know he was an author?”
“Yes. I saw the books you thought I wouldn’t see. Who the heck gives a rooty toot tooty?”
Sabrina stood up, shook her head, and stopped asking questions as soon as she had begun.
“Okay, well, whatever. Just make sure they don’t put anymore notes on my car.”
“Yes dear. Of course dear.”
“And sweep the leaves in the yard.”
“Yes I will.”
Sabrina sighed. “Oh Sam, you know you wasting your time? I would much prefer things went back to how they were. If we could do things together, like we used to.”
Sam nodded and was just about to give his wife a hug, but before he could, she turned to leave his study.
“The rake is in the shed.”
“I know dear,” replied Sam.
“Are you sure? Because you haven’t used it in months.”
Sam took a deep breath and stared at Elliott’s books. They would have to wait until later.
Chapter 5
“Oh my goodness, this is so much fun. I never realized what you ladies were up to when I used to see you here before I married Elliott, but thank you so much for inviting me to join. I am honored.”
“You are welcome dear, it’s a pleasure to have you join us.”
“Yes, welcome to The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club, Kelly, or should I say Mrs. Mayor?” said Cindy Mopper behind a false smile as she raised her cocktail, disguised in a red plastic cup, to her lips.
“So, how is married life treating you, Kelly, or should I say Mrs. Miller?” asked Heidi Launer sweetly and with a smile.
“Oh, you know, what with all the functions, parties, and of course looking after the three dogs, I haven’t had a second to breathe,” replied Kelly, before taking a very small sip of her rum and coke. “And I prefer Kelly to Mrs. Miller or Mrs. Mayor. They both sound so formal.”
Cindy stared at Kelly, her faced fixed with a fake smile. How she detested the woman sitting opposite her, but she had to keep the act and the pretense up for as long as she could. The arrogance of the girl; preferring to be known as Kelly rather than Mrs. Miller--oh what Cindy would give to be Mrs. Miller.
“But Elliott,” continued Kelly, “well he is simply wonderful. He is so romantic, I never thought I would ever get over Tom, but, well, here I am, back to my old self and happy. And really, it is all because of Elliott.”
Kelly Miller was indeed back to her former self. She had lost the weight she had put on after Tom’s disappearance. Her hair was immaculately colored and styled, her nails manicured and polished, and her clothing complimentary and expensive.
“I guess I am living the dream,” she said to her two older companions.
Living my dream, a dream you stole from me, you disgusting little tramp. A gold digger, that’s all you are. I could throttle you. I really could. What I would give to watch you drop dead right here, right now.
Cindy nodded her agreement. “You have been so lucky to find a wonderful man like Elliott. I hope you enjoy the dream. I wish you both a long life and of course, happiness. You both deserve it.”
Heidi smiled wryly, and took a sip of her drink before speaking. “So I expect you are going to be very busy on Saint Patrick’s Day, what with all those events, and of course, the parade, I believe that this will be Elliott’s third as Mayor, but your first as his wife? No, I forgot, this will be your second St. Patrick’s Day as his wife, but the first time you have ridden in the parade. Sometimes my memory really plays some awful tricks on me.”
Kelly nodded, confirming that next month’s parade, Savannah’s largest and most popular event, would be the first time that she would be sitting with her husband, in the Mayoral car, leading the procession behind the two grand marshals.
“Well, make sure you throw lots of beads,” chimed in Cindy, “I used to go downtown for the parade, but you know, it’s just so crowded, too many people for my liking. I like to watch it on the television these days. But maybe I will pop along. Just to cheer both of you on.”
Cheer her on? I hope she makes a total and utter fool of herself. I hope she throws some beads and they hit someone on the head or in the eye. I hope someone throws an egg at her. Maybe I will, the nasty skank.
“Me too,” said Heidi. “I can’t be down there with all the noise. Steven and his wife-- Steven is my son, Kelly he is a lawyer--he and his wife will be flying in from New York the night before.”
Kelly nodded. She was aware that Heidi had a son, and also aware that he was a lawyer. Elliott had once told her that he was somehow connected to the mafia, and had told her how we was their defense attorney of choice. Apparently he was very good at what he did.
“Well, Steven will be coming. He will be staying with me for a day or two. Go, I told him. Enjoy the parade. But don’t involve me in the shenanigans. No, I will be just fine at home with Betty.”
“So Betty doesn’t like the parade either?” asked Kelly.
“I have no idea if she likes it or not, nor if she wants to go. I haven’t asked her. She will be working anyway. Unfortunately for her, the parade occurs on one of the days I need her. No, Betty knows better than to ask me for time off when it isn’t due.”
“I see,” said Kelly, “so she will miss Elliott and I throwing beads and hopefully not making fools of ourselves.”
The three women laughed and continued to sip their drinks, the dogs enjoying their romp and play time together in the park. It was just like old times, thought Cindy, but not quite. Old times meant Carla and Thelma, but didn’t include Kelly.
“It is so good to see you, Cindy”, said Kelly. “I mean, it has been a long time. I am so glad that you are now out of your little funk. We received the newsletter you wrote, and of course we knew that, for the past few weeks, you had been out and about, so to speak. Elliott and I both
wanted to say hello, but you know we have been so busy. But here we are. Friends like we used to be, when we lived next door to each other. By the way, you look wonderful. ”
Funk? You call it a funk, you harlot? It was because of you. All because of you and the fact you stole my man. You tramp. Friends like we used to be? Over my, or better still, your dead body. ‘Elliott and I are so busy’ – how dare you? More like you are keeping Elliott away from me.
Cindy smiled. “Why thank you Kelly that is just so sweet of you. You know you are just like a daughter to me.” If only Kelly knew what she knew, thought Cindy, about Paris. About her and Billy. Soon she would be wiping that perfect little smile from that perfect -looking face. “Well, I’m back now. What is that saying, the one the French always say? C'est la vie. Any idea what that actually means? I think it means ‘such is life.’ That’s right, isn’t it Kelly?”
Kelly nodded, indicating that she did know what it meant, though in reality, she had no idea.
“I think the French have many stupid sayings like that,” interjected Heidi. “An odd people I always found. Rather weak and pathetic in my opinion. You know they capitulated during the war? Oh yes, they never even fought back. Let us march straight in. Cowards. Just like those two-faced Italians. Now they are all left wing and socialists--practically communists. The country is just riddled with foreigners, especially Muslims and of course, Jews. ”
Kelly was surprised by Heidi’s last comment. Surely she knew that Elliott was Jewish? She let the remark pass, though she was slightly offended by it. She had though, failed to catch Heidi’s Freudian slip while talking about ‘marching into Paris,’ as had Cindy also.
“You’ve been to Paris haven’t you Kelly?” asked Cindy with a smile.
Saint Patrick's Day - The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club Part III: A Dark Comedy Cozy Mystery With A Twist Page 3
