by Ed Lynskey
“Oh sure, we’ll have to do the right thing like you say,” said Alma, disappointed.
Also left unhappy, Phyllis gave up her get-rich-quick aspirations. “I don’t get the use of the mango yellow suitcase,” she said.
“Some travelers prefer to carry the bright shades of luggage,” said Isabel. “They can pick it out easier from the other luggage on the airport’s baggage carousel. Getting the money suitcase to Sheriff Fox should be our next priority. It’s making me jittery while it’s in our care.”
Petey Samson trotted over to the ladies, gave the banknotes in the suitcase a cursory sniff, and rolled his eyes up at Isabel who saw the sly smirk in his canine expression.
“What a ham Petey Samson is,” she said.
Chapter 16
Sheriff Fox was running his fingers through his thin hair. In a few short years, he’d look bald as a peeled apple. The Snoop sisters and their sidekick, the town’s bag lady no less, had traipsed into his office without knocking first. His admin (he couldn’t remember their names to save his life) had ushered them in, and they’d just dumped this hot potato into his lap.
Why couldn’t they just apply their nosy parker talents and give him a quiet heads up on whom to arrest for the Ladybug Miles homicide? That was all he had requested. Nothing more, nothing less. Just get out there and play his pack of sniffer dogs. They had forged an agreement. Now their extracurricular meddling had uprooted a suitcase filled with banknotes. Fistfuls of banknotes, in fact, they’d said.
He quit his fidgeting and stalled. Perhaps they’d break out in devilish grins, their eye corners crinkling, and tell him it was their dotty idea of a prank. Sure, that had to be it. He’d slap his thigh, enjoying his guffaws while they laughed. It was a practical joke, and he could do for a spot of levity. Then he’d pretend to chide them for pulling the sheriff’s leg. Murder was a serious business.
It didn’t happen, of course. There was no joke. The three ladies went on sitting in the chairs before his desk with the same determined looks. He saw even the crazier than a loon in June Phyllis was not smiling.
“All right, let me catch my breath from your telling this screwy tale,” he said, throwing up his flat palms as if he was signaling the Main Street traffic to halt. “You’re making the claim you dug up this money the original owner locked up inside a suitcase—”
“A mango yellow suitcase,” said Phyllis.
“Right, it’s a mango yellow suitcase,” said Sheriff Fox. “Then the owner buried it in the sand at the old swimming hole. Do I have that part straight?”
“Your hearing seems to be fine,” replied Alma.
Isabel was more understanding. “Not only that but we want to turn it over to you.”
“I feel so honored,” said Sheriff Fox. “You didn’t stop off at Eustis’ drugstore to purchase several feminine doodads like hair spray or cold cream?”
“Bite your tongue,” replied Alma. “No such improper thought crossed our minds. It isn’t our money to spend.” She didn’t admit how they’d debated over taking possession of the windfall. Goody Two-Shoes Isabel had objected by pointing out the law frowned on less-than-honest behavior.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but where is the money suitcase now?” he asked.
“We managed to heft it into our sedan’s trunk and we drove here,” replied Isabel.
“You got a forklift?” asked Phyllis. “That much cash is heavy.”
“No because I run a sheriff’s department, not a mattress warehouse,” said Sheriff Fox.
“We also want a written receipt for your assuming control of it,” said Alma. “Our attorney Dwight Holden advised us to obtain one.” That was a fib, but she wasn’t leaving any loose ends to come unraveled on them later.
“What is it you’re asking me for?” The perplexed Sheriff Fox looked a second away from yanking out his remaining strands of hair.
“We’d appreciate getting a signed receipt,” replied Alma.
“You better also notarize it,” said Phyllis. “Do you have a notary public on your staff?” She glanced back at his closed office door.
“Now you ladies hold on a minute,” he said.
“Don’t try any of your shenanigans either,” said Alma. “We’ve snapped photos of the money suitcase with our cell phone cameras and emailed them to Dwight.”
“I’ll send out my brawniest pair of deputies to take possession of the money suitcase,” said Sheriff Fox. “Did you happen to bring Cujo with you?”
“His name is Petey Samson and not Cujo,” said Isabel. “Yes, he is waiting in the sedan for us.”
“I’ll be sure to warn my deputies,” said Sheriff Fox.
“One more thing before I forget it,” said Alma. “We have reason to suspect the banknotes might be phony as a three-dollar wig.”
“Come again?” said Sheriff Fox.
“Alma said the money could be counterfeit,” replied Phyllis.
“Counterfeit dough is just great.” Sheriff Fox shook his head. “All I need is for Quiet Anchorage to be crawling with the feds when I am keeping a tight lid on Ladybug’s homicide. When it rains it pours.”
“We’ll be glad to lend you one of our spare umbrellas,” said Alma. “Is the yellow polka dot one all right?”
“I was using an expression, Alma,” said Sheriff Fox.
“Roscoe, let’s stop bemoaning our woe-is-me fate and put our agile minds to work,” said Isabel. “Our discovery of the money suitcase in the same place where Ladybug died makes it likely hers.”
“Look, you ladies have done commendably well,” said Sheriff Fox. “I appreciate it, and I salute you. Really, I do. I’ll put in for you to receive our Crime Solvers of the Year Award. But this stage marks when I step in and take the reins.”
“What’s this stuff? You are giving us the old brush off.” Alma knitted her eyebrows together. “After all we’ve done for you, the only gratitude we get is your condescending pat on the head, pushed out the door, and given a meaningless award.”
“Hey, it works for me,” he said.
“You brought us into this case, and we intend to stay until the bitter end,” said Alma.
Sheriff Fox thought of his clandestine plan. He only had to pull the wool over Isabel and Alma’s eyes to put it into motion. He could handle doing that. Soon he’d make his move, but he wasn’t ready. He’d give it a day longer, and he’d be good and set. Right now, all he needed to do was to lead them on enough so they wouldn’t see what he was really up to doing.
“The money suitcase is a useful clue, but there must be other clues out there also waiting to be found,” he said.
“Are you proposing we are the investigators to find them?” asked Alma. “With you speaking from both sides of your mouth, I’m never sure where you stand on matters.”
“Okay, since you insist, you’re back on the case,” said Sheriff Fox, secretly pleased at how he could divert them for another day. “I’ll remind you the same ground rules are in effect. Everything you do is in an unofficial capacity. You will continue to work behind the scenes, report to me, and you can’t breathe a word of doing it to anybody. Is that crystal clear?”
“Only if we get secret decoder rings and silver-plated badges,” replied Phyllis.
“Phyllis, you’re not even supposed to be here,” said Sheriff Fox.
“But then here I be,” said Phyllis.
“We should update you,” said Alma. “We’re also using Ossie Conger, Willie Moccasin, and Blue Trent. The only reason we haven’t conferred with Lotus Wang and Rosie McCleod is because she is laid up with a broken shinbone. But we’ll visit them after we conclude this meeting.”
“That is unbelievable and unacceptable,” said Sheriff Fox. “I didn’t know you had to do every single solitary thing by committee.”
“Our sister Louise will be also in the thick of it before long,” said Isabel.
“You ladies are out of control,” said Sheriff Fox. “I issued you specific instructions on protecting th
is investigation’s confidentiality.”
Alma beamed her eyes at him. “We’ve always used the assistance of our friends and family. You knew that before you signed us on to be your silent helper elves. Whether you like it or not, that is how we do things.”
“Since you’ve enlisted an A-team, I’ll expect faster results from you,” he said.
“Would you also like us to gift wrap the solution for you?” asked Alma.
Sheriff Fox had enough composure not to take her bait. He was the cool law enforcement professional here who had a dandy plan in mind. “Will that be all, ladies? I must get back to my sheriff duties. My work is never done, as they say.”
Isabel had arisen from her chair. “Alma, do you have anything to add before we bid Sheriff Fox adieu?”
Alma stood up with Phyllis. “I was serious about the signed receipt,” said Alma. She gazed down at Sheriff Fox.
He let out a sigh approaching a moan, not caring if they saw his annoyance. “I’ll scribble out a receipt and sign it,” he said.
“On second thought, a signed receipt won’t be necessary,” said Isabel. “Alma, we can take snapshots of our handing over the money suitcase to the deputies.”
“So be it then,” said Alma. “A picture is worth a thousand words.”
“Then you may go on now,” said Sheriff Fox before the three ladies came up with another outlandish idea to spring on him.
Chapter 17
Like all the Kyle men, the lean six-foot Reynolds Kyle also had a sturdy jaw and aquiline nose. He operated the drag race track where speed ruled and had dropped by Sammi Jo’s apartment. They’d been discussing his time on Sunday afternoons spent taking care of business at the drag race track to the exclusion of their doing anything fun together. Having given in to her suggestion to quit his cigarette smoking, he felt as if he’d made enough concessions. Her new issue confounded him. Scratching his soul patch, he seized on what he thought was a clever ploy.
“You should realize if I have to shut down or scale back on my race track, I’ll have less money to spend on you,” he said. They sat across from each other. Both had crossed their arms on their chests. “My luck is too lousy to dig up a fat suitcase of C notes like some people we know do.”
So Reynolds knew about the money suitcase, she thought. She was sure none of the ladies had leaked the story. Sheriff Fox had ordered his deputies to clam up about it, or he’d place them on the graveyard shift permanently. Her stoic face gave away nothing of what she was thinking.
“I have a better way to free up your Sundays,” she said. “Delegate some of the track responsibilities. Who is your second-in-charge out there?”
“There is no second-in-charge, and you know I’m the only full-timer,” replied Reynolds. “My staff is made up of high school kids and retired old codgers I hire on Sunday to take care of the parking and other stuff. All I can do is to mull over your latest suggestion.”
“Fair enough.” Sammi Jo uncrossed her arms. She’d gotten the best deal she was going to wangle from him. The man had a stubborn streak a mile wide. The only stubborner person she knew was herself except this time she decided to give in. He’d caved on not smoking cigarettes, so she felt sure he’d soon make his Sunday afternoons available for them.
“How is your property search going?” she asked.
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’m still weighing my options.”
“Uh-huh.” She knew he still hadn’t found anything on the real estate market to accommodate his dreams of upgrading his drag race track.
“What’s this buzz about the suitcase stuffed with green your aunts dug up at the swimming hole?” he asked.
“What suitcase stuffed with green is that?” she asked, playing dumb. “What are you going on about, Reynolds?”
“Blabbermouth Deputy Bexley told me about the money suitcase on my way over here,” replied Reynolds.
“There are no secrets kept in our one-horse town.” She crossed her legs. “You know as much as I do about it. Having not been there, I can’t add any other details. All I know is Sheriff Fox has the money.”
“Did they pocket a few dollars for their finders’ fee?”
“I’ll have no loose talk like that, Mr. Kyle. You should know those three ladies are honest as a Texas sundown and don’t you forget it anytime soon.”
He grunted at her earnest assertion. “They are also smart as whips. Who do they identify as the most likely Long John Silver who buried the treasure?”
“They have shared nothing like that with me,” replied Sammi Jo.
“Don’t scowl at me like that,” he said. “You’ve brought me into their capers more than once. You might again so I should have a rough idea of what’s up.”
“I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything significant,” said Sammi Jo. “Now on a different topic, I’m thinking about moving into my dad’s Cape Cod. He left it to me, and all it is doing is sitting out there empty with the mud daubers building their nests in the rafters. Can I count on you for lending me a little muscle?”
Reynolds knew better than to flare his eyes over what he saw as an obvious answer. “No sweat, Sammi Jo. What timeframe do you have in mind? Do you need a hand at packing your stuff?” He nodded at her kitchen cupboards. “You know, crating up your dinner plates, drinking glasses, and Corning Ware dishes.”
“I haven’t made a decision on when I’ll move. However, I’ll be the one to do the packing since you don’t ‘crate up’ dishes. The goal is to get my personal belongings to the Cape Cod still in one piece.”
He veered back to their juicier topic. “I am left to wonder if Ladybug pulled a string of old-fashioned bank robberies. She probably wore a Cinderella mask and toted a hog leg revolver. Then she cooked up the scheme to hide her ill-gotten gains by stashing them inside the suitcase and planting it on the shore of the Coronet River. Who would think to search for the suitcase of dough there?”
“Sometimes I’m surprised by the words that come out of your mouth, Reynolds. Ladybug was about as much a bank robber as you are.”
He parked his olive dark eyes on Sammi Jo. “Okay, Miss Know-It-All, where else did she get all of that dinero?”
“Maybe a relative with deep pockets died, and she came into a windfall inheritance.”
“Then if I were her, I would have put my windfall inheritance into a bank account. That’s why I think her money is hot, and she ripped it off from a bank or armored truck.”
“She did it all by her lonesome. Amazing.”
“Ain’t it though? She was laying low until the heat wore off.”
Sammi Jo’s tolerance meter went off—ding—and she’d reached her daily limit of Reynolds. She loved the dear lad to her marrow, but enough was enough. Tomorrow she’d be ready for taking more of him. She sought a subtle way to drop a hint it was time for him to make tracks from her apartment.
“Did they take the time and tally up the money?” he asked. “How much of it was there in the suitcase?”
“Isabel put her foot down and insisted they haul the suitcase straight to the sheriff’s office. All I know is it wasn’t chump change, so it had to run in the thousands if not tens of thousands of dollars.”
Reynolds’ eyes filled with starry dreams. “Just once I’d like to have the thrill of what it feels like to be a millionaire. I can picture of me lounging around the castle until the late morning. It has got to be like a life in hog heaven.”
Sammi Jo was tempted to quip as a bachelor he already lived in hog heaven. She held her tongue since she wanted him to do her the favor on moving day. Isabel and Alma couldn’t lift the sofa, armchairs, and box spring. Creaky old Willie, Ossie, and Blue could pitch in and help with carrying the small items. Reynolds was the right man to do the heavy lifting.
“It’s all pie in the sky because the money is no more ours,” said Sammi Jo. “Like I said, Sheriff Fox took custody of it, and we’re only left with the tough job of finding Ladybug’s killer.”
“I’m no
t telling you what to do, but don’t you have to look at the most likely suspects first? Who is her family?”
“She has no immediate kinfolk in Quiet Anchorage. They are either below ground, or they’ve moved away to parts unknown.”
Reynolds went back to stroking his soul patch. “Who was her best friend in town?”
“Aunt Phyllis and she did everything together,” replied Sammi Jo. “But I would never suspect Aunt Phyllis of committing murder in a million years, so you can toss that idea into File 13 right this instant.”
“I’m not directing the blame at anybody in particular,” said Reynolds. “I’m just thinking out loud and batting around the different notions with you.”
“Reynolds, dear, haven’t we batted around enough different notions for today? I mean we can take it up again tomorrow, can’t we?”
“Okay, I can tell when you’ve grown buggy from me hanging around for too long, so I’ll be shoving off now.”
“After while, crocodile,” said Sammi Jo.
“Toodle-loo, kangaroo,” said Reynolds.
Their usual playful exchange of farewells made her smile. He kissed her full on the lips, twice, and sauntered with his easy gait out of the apartment. She watched him until he closed the door. On his way downstairs, Reynolds still held out hope Sammi Jo would grow more passionate over his NASCAR scene.
He grinned. If she ever did, he’d have to break down and make an honest woman out of her. When he reached the streetside, he stuffed on his gimme hat before he left for the drag race track. He craved to light up a cigarette and reached for the pack in his shirt pocket until he remembered he’d quit smoking. He gritted his teeth until the nicotine urge subsided.
Chapter 18
“We literally dig up our best clue, and we hand it off to Sheriff Fox.” Alma was in top form while she fussed about the money suitcase. “We should have our heads examined.”
“As I recall, you had the far-fetched idea for us to keep and spend the money probably to build your sun parlor,” said Isabel. “But you never said anything about it being our best clue while we had the suitcase.”
