Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 03 - The Ladybug Song

by Ed Lynskey

  “I won’t write down Lotus on my list,” said Alma. “But she will earn our extra attention as we go forward.”

  “Should we let Sheriff Fox in on our latest suspicions?” asked Isabel.

  “He’s probably still tied up counting the money from the suitcase we left at his office,” said Alma. “That’s just the place for him to stay and be out of our way.”

  Chapter 21

  “You have not lived, sir, until you hear the steam engine’s whistle tooting while it’s slowing into Quiet Anchorage,” said Isabel. “The glorious noise is an unforgettable one.”

  Eustis Blake, the town pharmacist, nodded. He was bald as an egg and wore a yellow smiley face button over the pocket of his marshmallow white lab coat. “The steam engines ran a little before my time, I’m afraid, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  Alma thought Isabel had extolled the virtues of the steam engines long enough. Waxing nostalgic was fine in its place, but right now wasn’t one of those places. The unsolved murder of Ladybug Miles had grabbed their single focus. Isabel and Alma had visited the drugstore at her making the suggestion to Isabel.

  “Did Ladybug get her prescriptions filled here?” asked Alma.

  “It is so terrible what happened to her,” replied Eustis. “She seldom patronized my drugstore and never my pharmacy. She must’ve driven to Warrenton to take care of her medicine needs.”

  “She lived just down the street,” said Alma. “Why did she get in her car and make the twenty-minute trip to Warrenton?”

  “You’d have to ask her that question if you still could,” replied Eustis. “I never did more than exchange pleasantries with her as we passed on the sidewalk or street.”

  “Hey there, all,” said a new female voice. “What do you know good?”

  The three pairs of eyes fell on the jaunty Sammi Jo bounding into the drugstore. She’d entered from the rear alcove giving to the stairway leading up to the second-story apartments where she lived. She’d finished zipping up her jacket and smiled.

  Alma waved back to her. “You look all set and raring to go. Is today moving day?”

  Isabel caught her breath. They’d kept Sammi Jo’s still vague plans to leave here and live in her dad’s Cape Cod a secret from Eustis, her landlord, since she hadn’t made any firm decision on it. Now Alma had gone and spilled the beans to him. Luckily, Sammi Jo was quick on her feet.

  “Not unless you’ve heard something I haven’t,” she said. “Eustis, are you trying to boot me out? Did I forget to pay you last month’s rent? Have my neighbors been complaining to you about my all-night parties?”

  The flustered Eustis disavowed doing any such thing. “Your rent is paid up to date, and your neighbors haven’t said a word about you or your all-night parties which I know you’ve never held.”

  “Then I must stand in good stead with you,” said Sammi Jo. “But as a hypothetical, let’s say I was to move out of my apartment. Would my leaving it create any hardship for you?”

  “Just turn out the lights before you lock the door and drop off the key at the pharmacy counter. I can always find new tenants without too much trouble. Somebody or other is always popping in and calling me out to the counter to inquire about my apartments’ availability. I should start a waiting list since I get asked about them so many times.”

  “There is always no fuss and no muss with you, Eustis. That’s why I like you as much as I do. You’re just a big old teddy bear under your marshmallow white lab coat.”

  “Thanks but I put on my marshmallow white lab coat because I’m too lazy to iron my shirt I wear under it.”

  Sammi Jo lost the humor. “Have you heard about what happened to Ladybug?”

  “I got the terrible word no more than an hour ago from Ossie coming into the drugstore for cough drops,” replied Eustis.

  “He told us the cold weather doesn’t bother them,” said Isabel.

  “He said he likes the taste of their cherry flavor,” said Eustis.

  “Be sure to double check your locks before you go to bed,” said Alma.

  “It’s a matter of routine for me,” said Eustis. “You can’t be too careful after what happened to Ladybug.”

  “Blaine is cleaning up on selling the security chains and deadbolt locks,” said Alma. “Ladybug’s murder has put everybody on edge.”

  “Why did she have the offbeat name Ladybug, and what in heaven’s name is a ladybug?” asked Eustis.

  “A ladybug is a beneficial little beetle orange with black spots on its shell, and legend says it’s unlucky to kill one,” replied Sammi Jo. “Aunt Phyllis told me Ladybug’s mother named Ladybug after the popular nursery rhyme.”

  “It must be a Southern thing because I don’t think I’ve heard it,” said Eustis. “Hum a few bars, and I’ll see if I recognize it.”

  Not feeling a bit self-conscious, Sammi Jo launched into singing the first verse to “The Ladybug Song.”

  Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home,

  Fly away home.

  Your house is on fire, and your children are gone,

  All except one,

  And her name is Anne,

  Her name is Anne,

  And she hid under the pudding pan.

  Sammi Jo’s voice ran strong and clear as her mother Mo Garner singing at the microphone had been years before, pleasing Eustis to compliment Sammi Jo.

  “You have a gorgeous voice,” he said. “Are you up for giving us an encore?”

  “Ready and willing, Eustis, but my encore will cost you,” replied Sammi Jo. “Otherwise everybody I meet on the street will to ask me to croon their favorite tune, and I’ll have no voice left.”

  “How much?” asked Eustis.

  “For you, I charge one month’s free rent,” replied Sammi Jo.

  “That’s all right then,” said Eustis. “I don’t want to hear it again that badly.”

  “I didn’t think you did,” said Sammi Jo. “Has Reynolds put in an appearance at the drugstore?”

  “Not today and he’s become a stranger around here,” replied Eustis. “He must stay a busy young man at doing whatever he does.”

  “He’s been on a mission to find a large piece of property,” said Sammi Jo. “The entrepreneur has big plans to expand his drag race track. He is fixing to close down the present one and open this bigger, better venue.”

  “Nobody in the sprawl north of us will sell him enough property,” said Eustis. “The land is worth a lot more to put up apartment buildings and strip malls on it.”

  “I agree but you’d have better luck at talking to the stairway newel than to Reynolds,” said Sammi Jo. “Once he gets an idea stuck in his brain, he won’t listen to reason.”

  “The drag race track fans must also live in the populous areas,” said Isabel. “Wouldn’t Reynolds do better if he figured out how to attract more of them to where he is located now?”

  “He claims there is not even standing room left on Sunday afternoons,” replied Sammi Jo. “Additional space at a new facility allows him to admit more paying heads and increase his profits. Anyway, how is the case going?”

  “Sheriff Fox hasn’t gotten in touch with us since we met with him,” said Isabel.

  “Far be it for me to tell you how to run your business,” said Eustis. “But if I were you, I’d be careful about how much I trusted Sheriff Fox. I can’t say why it is, but he gives me an uneasy feeling whenever I’m around him.”

  “Join the club,” said Sammi Jo.

  “Sammi Jo means nobody has had more experience with Sheriff Fox’s slippery as an eel loyalty than us,” said Alma. “But thanks for the warning, Eustis.”

  “We’re overdue for a chat with Sheriff Fox,” said Sammi Jo. “This time I’ll also invite myself along just to see the sourpuss look on his face.”

  “That’s just his normal expression,” said Alma.

  Eustis laughed before he caught himself.

  “Alma and Sammi Jo, let’s try to be a little nicer to Roscoe,”
said Isabel, trying to keep from smiling.

  Chapter 22

  “How was I supposed to know you were keeping Sammi Jo’s move to the Cape Cod hush-hush?” asked Alma. “Nobody said anything to me about mum is the word.”

  “She assumed you’d have enough tact to realize it for yourself,” said Isabel at the wheel. The three ladies rode in the sedan on their way to meet Sheriff Fox who said he’d be at his office if they’d like to come by right away. “You shouldn’t just blurt out something personal about someone without first checking with them if it’s okay.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, that is a bit much,” said Alma.

  “Nevertheless, that is how it is done,” said Isabel.

  “Eustis said he doesn’t care if I do or don’t move, so let’s drop the subject,” said Sammi Jo.

  Liking Sammi Jo’s proposal, Alma let go of her exasperation. Other more pressing things needed their consideration. The depraved acts of evildoers never ceased to stun as much as they repulsed Alma. Take Ladybug Miles’s homicide. Who had pent up enough hatred or rage to plot a scheme to murder her and try to hide it from the world?

  “Are you also deliberating on the case?” asked Isabel.

  “My gray cells are focused on it like a laser beam,” replied Alma.

  “And…?”

  “And frankly, I’ve got nothing new to give you. Are you faring any better than I am?”

  Isabel laughed although not much humor was behind it. “Not a whole lot better, I have to confess.”

  “Aren’t we the dynamic crime-fighting duo at work?” said Alma, her tone sardonic. “Even our combined efforts have fallen short of making any headway on Ladybug’s case. We couldn’t have picked a worst time to go into a slump.”

  “We have to be making a little progress even if we can’t see what it is right now,” said Isabel.

  “I’d like to think the same nice way,” said Alma.

  “It’s the right positive attitude for us to be taking,” said Sammi Jo.

  They parked on the street in front of the Quiet Anchorage Sheriff’s Office. Alma noticed its streaky windows needed cleaning, and its unkempt grass mowing. She made up her mind to pin down Sheriff Fox on the actual reason why he’d taken the unprecedented step and reached out for their help. His acting so strangely troubled her even after he’d reassured them he also just wanted Ladybug’s killer put behind bars. He could sing that song all day, and he’d never win over Alma’s complete trust.

  The gum-chomping high schooler sat at the receptionist’s desk and twisted a lock of hair around her index finger. She said Sheriff Fox was in the rear lot where he was tinkering on his cruiser.

  “I didn’t realize he knows his way around a socket wrench,” said Sammi Jo.

  The high schooler shrugged, snapped her gum, and pointed at the door marked “EXIT.” The three ladies used it as the high schooler checked her cell phone for a text message.

  They entered a small shady courtyard paved and enclosed on all sides by a tall chain-link fence. A cruiser with its hood flipped up sat parked diagonal to them. Leaning over its front grill was Sheriff Fox who turned around at the sound of their tread and nudged up the brim to his Smokey Bear sheriff’s hat. He knew this moment of reckoning was coming, and he might as well get it over with right now. He was on his own turf where he was in charge. Or so he kept reminding himself.

  “Hello there, ladies,” he said. His smile was fake as that of a car title lender in a polyester necktie and jacket. “What a pleasant surprise it is to find you at my station house on this fine day.”

  “We’ll skip exchanging pleasantries if you don’t mind, Roscoe,” said Alma. “Why haven’t you been more conscientious about keeping in touch with us?”

  “Well, you know how it is with one thing or the other always coming up,” he replied. “I haven’t found a slow moment to drop a dime on you.”

  “Nobody drops a dime in a pay telephone anymore,” said Alma. “They are called cell phones, and you can use them anytime you like. Everybody does that except for you it seems. How long does it take out of your busy day to give us a holler?”

  Sheriff Fox couldn’t stifle his growing smirk. He acted as if he’d won a jackpot at the slot machines, and in a way, he had done just that. For the first time in his tenure as the town sheriff, he’d outsmarted the Trumbo sisters at their own game. Even his stalled out cruiser couldn’t put a damper on his joy. He could use his sleeve to buff his sheriff’s badge to add an extra shimmer to it.

  Sensing his arrogant attitude, Isabel reacted to it first. “You look mighty full of yourself, Roscoe. Something big must be going on, and we’d like to be let in on it.”

  By now, Alma had tuned in to the old, familiar Sheriff Fox, and the clandestine manner he liked operate. His leopard spots hadn’t changed, after all. He’d been hoodwinking them probably since making his first appeal for their cooperation. The hot resentment fanned through her like a grease fire surging up from the hot frying pan on the gas range. She trembled from the fury shooting through her.

  “You have made an arrest,” said Alma. “Haven’t you, Sheriff Fox? While our backs were turned supposedly doing your bidding, you went out and slapped the handcuffs on the person you’ve wanted to arrest for Ladybug’s killer all along.”

  “Aunt Alma, I am shocked,” said Sheriff Fox, pretending her blunt pronouncement took him aback. “I’m shocked by your accusation.”

  “Don’t you Aunt Alma me. I’m not your aunt when you act like a stinkpot.”

  “Everything was done according to Miranda,” said Sheriff Fox. “You shouldn’t forget I wear the sheriff’s badge, and I am the one in charge of enforcing the law.”

  Alma looked at Sammi Jo. “Who do you think our good sheriff has seen fit to arrest while he was enforcing the law?”

  “Aunt Phyllis,” replied Sammi Jo, narrowing her eyes on Sheriff Fox. “Who else is there left for him to lock up?”

  A hurt scowl clouded Isabel’s face as she came to grips with her naïveté

  to have given him a second chance. “I’ve never heard of anything more reprehensible,” she said. “No wonder your sheriff’s cruiser is on the fritz. Even it can’t stand the double-crossing scoundrel likes of you.”

  “Now see here, Isabel,” said Sheriff Fox, folding his arms across his chest. “That will be quite enough out of you. I was just doing my job which the church-going, hard-working, and law-abiding taxpayers of our town expect from me.”

  “What proof do you have Phyllis is guilty?” asked Isabel.

  “I’m not sharing my evidence with you,” replied Sheriff Fox. “You know it’s proprietary until the time of her trial. You are more than welcome to sit quietly in the courtroom and observe the legal proceedings.”

  “Where is Aunt Phyllis?” asked Sammi Jo. “What have you done with her? I demand you take us to her at once.”

  “Our prison visitation hours are posted on the wall to the right after you exit my office,” said Sheriff Fox. “We also have them available to peruse online. My department does it by the book, and we make no exceptions, including with you three women. If I let you in after hours, then I’ll have to do it for everybody. You’ll have to return at the correct time to see Phyllis.”

  “We’ll be back then,” said Sammi Jo. “You can count in it.”

  “I’ve heard you, Sammi Jo,” said Sheriff Fox.

  “In the interim, we’ll round up a lawyer for Phyllis,” said Alma.

  “Dwight Holden is our attorney,” said Isabel. “He’ll be glad to serve as Phyllis’s legal counsel, as well.”

  Sheriff Fox reverted to his smug leer, barely resisting his temptation to rub his palms together in glee.

  “In case you haven’t seen Dwight work lately, I should warn you,” said Sheriff Fox. “He’s gone to seed over the past six months, and the courthouse scuttlebutt says his wheels have come off. The best of the lawyers hit skid row. The court sessions are dog-eat-dog fights, and I guess he just couldn’t hack doing
it anymore.”

  “Thanks for the update, Roscoe,” said Alma. “It sounds as if we also better bring in a little backup for Dwight.”

  “How do you plan on doing that since he is in practice alone?” asked Sheriff Fox, his behavior bordering on churlish. “Dwight is like a one-man band playing a broken drum and bent cymbals. Not that he was ever any great shakes as a criminal lawyer when I saw him in action.”

  Alma set down her pocketbook on the fender to the sheriff’s cruiser, she opened the clasp, and she pawed through the contents. “Drats, I have misplaced my cell phone. I should wear it around my neck on a lanyard like the Three Musketeers do with theirs.”

  Oh gee golly, that’s too bad, Sheriff Fox delighted to think.

  “Mine is right here,” said Sammi Jo, taking it off her belt’s carrying case. She didn’t like lugging around a purse. “Who do you want to call? I’ll be glad to do it for you.”

  Ghostbusters thrilled Sheriff Fox. This is rich. I’ll relish this special moment if I live to be ninety, and I’ll always look back on it for a chuckle. Putting one over on Isabel and Alma Trumbo who think they are so clever has to be one of the highlights to my law enforcement career.

  “Helen Redfern is always happy to take our call,” replied Alma.

  “Judge Helen Redfern?” said Sheriff Fox, paling as he lost his smugness and gasped for breath. “Is that who you just said?”

  Alma nodded. “Didn’t you know we are old friends?”

  “How could I have forgotten that detail?” His eyes grew large as pie tins, and his complexion drained of healthy color to show a hue looking dull as cookie dough.

  “Roscoe, what is the matter with you?” asked Alma. “You look as if you just saw a ghost.”

  “I think I just did,” said Sheriff Fox.

  “Surely you are exaggerating,” said Isabel. “Granted Helen has the deserved reputation for being a barracuda, but she’s also a fair-minded and even-tempered judge.”

  “I’m feeling better,” said Sheriff Fox. His eyes were still wide, but his natural color was returning to his ashen face. “Our meeting is over. I have lots of important work to finish.”