Andrew gave me a wave goodbye, and I watched him walk to his car, and I wondered if I had gone too far. This seemed like a problem between us, yet it need not be. I promised myself that I would try to question Andrew's friend more gently next time, but damn it that wasn't how I got the information I wanted out of people. I needed to press and push; it was the only way I ever gained useful information.
I turned from watching the last of Andrew go out my driveway, hoping it was not a sign of his going out of my life, then I realized that I'd left the hose running, and my poor garden looked like Noah's flood had hit.
Chapter Nineteen
After Andrew finally left and I calmed my nerves a bit, I gathered my purse and jumped into my Mustang. It had been so long since I had driven my car. Poor baby was raring to go too. Today I plan to be a lead foot and burn all the carbon off just like my father always preached was good for getting the 'gunk' out – whatever gunk is. I inhaled deeply and took in an unusual fragrance. It must be Andrew's cologne as he might have been the last person in my car.
Air conditioning on full blast, pedal to the metal, I was in Mustang heaven. One of the reasons I had purchased my muscle car: I felt like a hotsy-totsy driving this car.
I roared into Eleanor's drive, scattering stones at her house. She was waiting just inside and came out when she saw me. It was only a matter of minutes while I swapped my car for hers, and together we left. I tried not to look at my all-knowing, busybody best friend, doing all I could to glance at anything but her prying eyes.
“What?” I asked finally.
Her eyes became large. “So how was it?”
I tried to act like I had no idea what she was talking about. I really would rather her not know what'd happened between Andrew and I. “How was what?”
Eleanor nudged me. “Oh you know.” She winked.
How can she know what happened between Andrew and I?
“I know you more than you think. It’s written all over your face.” She giggled and the sound grated on my last nerve. I think I had only one nerve left, so it was easy for someone to get on it.
“I don’t know what you could possibly be referring to.” I tried to keep my eyes on the road.
“Did you do it?” She grinned. “Was it good?”
“Eleanor, I have no damn idea what you are referring to.”
“Oh come on, you two were all over each other before you left my house. I thought you were gonna do it on the deck, even Roy thought so.”
I was mortified. “He did?”
“Sure.”
Oh god, I feared it would be all over East Tawas by now if Roy had the story. I smiled a weak grin. I hoped it wasn't the town gossip, but knowing Roy and Eleanor the way I did I could not help but believe so. Then I decided to hell with it. We were after all two consenting adults.
“Eleanor, how many people have you called and told?”
“Oh come on, Aggie! We’re buddies. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Some people I know, yes, but not you.” She toyed with a tissue she held. “But I don’t know what Roy might say. He can be a gossip at times, and with something this juicy... who knows.” She shrugged as if it were nothing to worry about.
I gulped hard, feeling a lump in my throat. “If I were Roy, I wouldn’t go around talking about anyone else,” I said.
“That was something, wasn’t it? I had no idea Roy could be that sneaky.”
I scoffed. “Huh, he flirts with everything that has tits.”
“Well, now Aggie, that’s not true. He flirts with Connie at the bank and she doesn’t have any at all.”
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. I hoped the wheel would fly away and take me with it.
I pulled into the parking lot of a small, simple brick building that housed the State Police Post. We walked inside and were met by Trooper Sales.
“I’m in a hurry, ladies, but I have some of the files on the Robinson case for you.”
“I'm in my own hurry,” I shot back. “Where are the files?”
“Just ask at the desk. The sergeant on duty's expecting you. I figured you would want to take a peek because of the hammer.”
I looked at him expectantly, “So you think it could be related to the Robinson case?”
“That or someone went to an awful lot of trouble to make us think so. I’ll be investigating the murder, and you can go over the files, but you need to keep them on the premises. That’s the deal.”
I nodded and watched the trooper dash to his car, and he tore out of the lot with sirens blazing. I never knew the rationale behind them putting the sirens on unless they really had a call. I had seen them on occasion snap them on just to pass someone. Not that it would bother most folks because it proved extremely nerve racking to have the cop tailing you. There was a fix for that however. A driver just goes so slow the cops'll pass on by. Not an easy task on US 23 sometimes, unless one has a burning desire to be run off the road by some old coot. Senior citizens around these parts didn't have much patience or driving skills. Perhaps it was just Eleanor I was thinking about.
I went to the desk sergeant's counter, designed to make you over into a dwarf, where I craned my neck and explained who I was, and that Trooper Sales had sent me for files. I was handed a packet containing files, and we were directed to a room where I saw ten additional boxes.
“It’s going to be a long day,” I said to Eleanor, whose face had dropped.
Eleanor rubbed her hands together. “I’ll be at the beach if you need me.”
She ran out the door. I shook my head and started going though the paperwork until I saw a name that popped out at me. Billy Chambers.
Billy Chambers was a handyman for the Robinson family, and he was long thought to be a potential suspect in their murder. He didn’t have an airtight alibi, but his uncle worked for the Governor, and as folks know, Governors can be boneheads and can be bribed or blackmailed or both. At any rate, Chambers was never charged. Just because he worked for them didn’t mean he killed them, I thought.
The Sheriff had searched his property, but they didn’t find incriminating evidence.
He had no reason to kill them. In fact, he lost his job and from what I'd heard Billy Chambers left town shortly thereafter.
Sheriff Peterson walked into the room. I expected him to be angry that I was allowed access to the files, but he seemed quite calm.
“Hi, Agnes, I’m sorry about all the misunderstanding we had about the backpack. Truth is, I didn’t get a chance to bring it here is all.”
I nodded. “The only thing that is important is finding Jennifer.” I continued to look at the file I held.
“I agree.” He turned to leave.
I glanced up. “One question if you please.”
He whipped around to face me.
“Has Billy Chambers ever come back to the area since he left town?”
A strange look passed over Sheriff Peterson's features and he shook his head. “He never left town.”
“No? That’s strange, it’s in the notes.” I showed him the file, and he shook his head again.
“That’s not true. I know he never left town. I’ll have to check his exact location, but I’m sure he never left. Hell, I saw him just last week.”
“Where?”
He pulled his shirt from his neck as if it suddenly felt tight. “After the Robinsons were murdered, he was all but ostracized by the community. Everyone thought he did it even though he was never arrested for the crime.”
“That doesn’t sound fair, but who could blame them. Folks were probably afraid.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t give them the right to ruin the man’s life.”
The Sheriff almost sounded like he was taking up for Billy.
“He could have left town,” I volunteered.
“And go where?”
“Hell if I know, but he could have gone somewhere,” I insisted.
“He wasn’t the brightest man you know. He was a little on the slow side. That job was all h
e had.”
“Thanks Sheriff.”
“I sure hope you find out something, Agnes. Fresh pair of eyes on a case never hurt.”
He walked away and I wondered why the sudden turn-around in his attitude. I was always one for a suspicious nature; I began to wonder if putting me in a room with a load of files was a conspiracy to get me out of his and Sales' hair.
I took the files back to the front desk and watched the clerk, a nametag on her chest reading Melinda, lock them inside a cabinet. Unlike the now invisible desk sergeant with whom I'd never had dealings, I knew something of Melinda, who was a bit older than I and twice as mean. Her relatives' name for her was Sis and Sissy, and you didn't want to mess with her. I had heard she was a trooper once, and they had given her a desk job. By her attitude, it was something she hated or perhaps she just hated people.
She stared across from the counter at me, her eyes like narrow slits. Not only did that baffle me, but it also made me mad. Who does she think she is?
Her gray skirt and white shirt didn’t compliment her skin. She never smiled, and I wondered if she ever did. I wanted to know what went so wrong in her life to make her so positively sour and dour.
I drove over to the dock’s parking lot, which charged money on the weekend but not during the week. There should have been a big banner waving here, that read in bold: Tourist trap.
I walked through the crowd that was moving in unison toward the dock: parents with excited children, snobbish boat owners, and barely dressed teenagers. Plenty of boats docked at East Tawas during the summer, most considered yachts. I noticed one of them making its way in. It sported foolish-looking, less-than-classy pirate flag with the words: 'Arrr want your booty.' I think it's one of those double meanings. I'm sure the booty they were referring to had nothing to do with treasure, but then again one man's treasure could well be someone else's booty. My mental quip had me flashing back to Andrew's booty wrapped in my frilly robe.
I walked beyond the boardwalk and onto the beach where the sand immediately compacted into the sandals I wore. It felt like a thousand shards of glass to my sensitive feet. It burned my feet because it was near ninety-five today. The wind coming from Lake Huron was brisk, and it helped with the heat somewhat, creating one-foot waves as it arrived. I saw children jumping into waves and the sounds of their excitement drifted to me.
As I walked along the beach, I searched for Eleanor. I stopped, perplexed, then I heard a cackle of hard giggles that I knew could only come from El.
I walked up into the part of the park that had picnic tables and playground equipment. Just on the other side was a gross area where the camper park was situated.
I strolled toward Eleanor and saw Rose Hamilton sitting on a lawn chair with a blanket covering the length of her body. Her ever-watchful daughter, Laurel, busied herself filling plates with potato salad, baked beans, and freshly grilled hot dogs.
I smiled. “Hi Rose.”
She looked up, and I saw her reddened face and knew it wasn’t from the sun. She had been ill for quite some time now.
Something large was bulging beneath the blanket.
“Is that your knee?” I asked her.
Looking down at the spot, she snapped her eyes upward. “I think it’s somebody’s empty head.”
I took a step back. “Like whose?”
“Well, it’s not mine,” she insisted.
I hid a smile, wondering if she was being serious?
My face felt hot like a hot flash, although it has been years since I had one of those. She’s talking about me. The idea played about inside my head like a drum, not an unpleasant beat, but a drum nonetheless.
I have never known Rose to say a bad word about anyone, and yet, she said one to me. It had to be the Vicodin talking. It had to be because I liked Rose.
I watched the hint of a smile that played about her mouth grow. I knew she had me. She had me totally fooled into believing she was serious.
I added. “I see you’re up to your old tricks, Rose.”
She shrugged. “Not much else going on. So, I hear you hooked up with the former hot shot lawyer, Andrew Hart.”
“Who told you that?”
Eleanor’s head was glued upward as if she hadn’t said a word. She finally looked at me. “Sorry.”
“It’s pretty good gossip to find out the most uptight woman in Tadium actually let a man touch her,” Rose said.
“Uptight am I? And what are you?”
“I’m too sick to do something like that, but believe me if I could I would.”
I shut my mouth, I couldn’t argue with that. I looked at her mousey daughter, Laurel, and wondered what in truth would happen to her when Rose died. She had completely wrapped her entire existence around caring for her mother. At times, I wanted to cry out to Laurel that she might never get over the fact she'd let her own life slip away from her. I respected Laurel more than any woman I had ever known for being such a diligent daughter. Still, I worried about who or what she would become once that role was finished, once she had to step off that stage.
“Lunch is ready,” Laurel said.
We all sat and enjoyed the fare of burnt hot dogs smothered in ketchup for those of us who didn’t care for hot dogs burnt to a crisp.
We dove right in and gobbled the food. Thankfully, no words were exchanged. I watched the sailboats in the distance moving along quite nicely. It prompted me to observe, “What a magnificent day for sailing.”
Eleanor burped and replied. “Are you kidding? Maybe you could stomach all that moving and swaying. Just thinking about it makes my stomach roll like it was doing a somersault!”
I waved the comment off, Rose and Laurel laughing, and it was such a wonderful moment under the sun that I wasn't even bothered by the pesky seagulls. The birds were desperately trying to steal our food. How people kept from pulling out their guns to shoot the beggars down, however, along with the fact that seagulls had somehow become a protected species: all of that was beyond me.
Chapter Twenty
Upon finishing our picnic fare, my stomach protested, and I hoped nothing would decide to erupt. Just then, Eleanor let one rip.
“Oops,” she giggled. “Oh, come on, Aggie, it's not like a body can hold gas inside. It's unhealthy.”
“Better out than in,” Rose piped in.
Eleanor grabbed a-hold of my hand and pulled my finger as if she would somehow deflate me, and right on cue, I let one go. It was one of those giant bubble farts that went on for what seemed minutes.
Laughter surrounded me and not just from the girls. A small child shouted! “Daddy, what is that smell?” Her round cheeks flushed with expression.
Her father moved her along toward the beach, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Th–That's not very nice, Amy. Hurry before it's too late to go swimming,” said the father, attempting to distract his child. It didn't help, of course, as the small child glanced over her shoulder, waving off the odor as if she'd smelled a skunk close by.
My so-called friends were by now rolling on the ground laughing.
Eleanor patted me on the back. “I always knew you were full of hot-air, but dang Aggie.”
I stomped over to the picnic table and sat down. “I ate beans, duh?” I tried to change the subject. “Rose, dear, how are the treatments going?”
Laurel shook her head. “She had a reaction to the chemo so – “
Rose added, “I'm sending money to that man on TV.”
I was almost afraid to ask. “What man?”
“Reverend Franklin Brooks.”
“The televangelist?” I shouted! I didn't mean to shout, but I couldn't help it.
“He cured Frances Meyer,” Eleanor affirmed.
I gasped. “You mean that old hag he travels around the country with?”
“Aggie,” Eleanor interrupted. Her eyes darted to the right as if hoping to silence me.
“Believe what you girls want to, but he's getting fat on the hog on you.” I left the picnic area
and Eleanor begrudgingly followed behind me.
“Aggie, I wanted to stay.”
“I couldn’t after Rose said she was sending money to a televangelist.”
“What’s wrong with that? I send money to him too.”
I whirled around. “Are you just plain crazy? There’s no way they can cure that woman. She’s in God’s hands now.”
Eleanor stood with hands on hips, tapping her foot. “How do you know? She may live far longer than you think.”
“If they can no longer treat Rose, what possible prognosis is there?”
Eleanor nodded. “Faith, the televangelists will cure Rose, you’ll see.”
“I don’t believe much in faith healers or little else these days. Seniors are just easy targets.” I softened my tone. “Rose is a good woman and doesn’t deserve to be sick. One of the reasons my faith has been tested–as you know.”
I had seen too many people put through the grinder labeled cancer; I'd witnessed too much suffering for far too long. It didn't seem right, and furthermore, it certainly wasn't right that any charlatan offering a miracle should ever profit from such suffering! Meanwhile, it broke my heart to see Rose this way, a tear leapt to my eye.
We proceeded to the car, but on the edge of the parking lot, I saw Dorothy and Frank Alton making their way toward the dock. I glanced over, and Eleanor had a snarl on her face.
“Ignore them, Eleanor.”
“Humph.”
“Hello Aggie,” called Dorothy. “I hear you found yourself a man, about time too.”
I had no idea if she meant it in a good or bad way. My face reddened because I now knew the gossip mill was in full swing, thanks to Eleanor no doubt.
She grinned. “We’re going on Maxwell Nobel’s Yacht today.”
She knew about Maxwell and me, but how?
Dorothy continued. “I heard you were quite the wild one back in the day.”
I stared at her without blinking. Perhaps I was shocked speechless.
“Maxwell had just used you though. He said you were a horrible lay, like a dead fish.” She smirked.
I leapt forward, intending to rip the smug look from Dorothy's face. I pulled her hair, but this time she wasn't wearing a wig, and her head yanked backward. In response, she clawed at me with her jagged nails, and as a reflex, I head butted her, sending her flying to the ground. Okay so that was a bit much, but watching the woman scurry away like a frightened rabbit was worth it.
Armed and Outrageous (An Agnes Barton Mystery) Page 13
