by Ed Lynskey
“Rosie flat on her back and out of commission would also have given Lotus the opportunity to kill Ladybug without Rosie knowing about it. The next point to discuss is does Lotus have the right smarts to plot a murder?”
“Oh, come on, Alma. You or I could draw up a simple murder plot using an accidental drowning to disguise it. Whether or not we’d get away with it is another question since there’s no such thing as the perfect murder.”
“It’s hard for me to accept Lotus would go so far as to commit murder just because she resented Ladybug’s name-calling.”
“Not if Lotus let her various grievances build up, smolder over time, and this latest quarrel lit her short fuse.”
“If she had taken as much as she could bear, then she could get her ultimate revenge by killing Ladybug. Did Rosie have anything to do with it?”
“Presumably not but she might help Lotus in its cover-up like providing her with an alibi.”
“Let’s talk about the nuts and bolts. How do you envision Lotus going about perpetrating Ladybug’s murder? Step me through the most reasonable scenario you can develop based on the facts as we know them.”
Isabel’s mind hummed away. “Maybe Lotus poisoned Ladybug with cyanide which, as we know from our reading mysteries, is tasteless and odorless. She could mix it undetectable with solid food or even a drink. She could download the instructions on how to administer it from the internet.”
“Maybe she bought the cyanide from somewhere on the internet, too.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. Lotus slipped the Mickey Finn into Ladybug’s beverage when she wasn’t looking at Eddy’s Deli. She ate her lunch there daily, and we know how frenetic it gets with everybody jostling elbows with each other.
“After finished drinking her spiked beverage, Ladybug felt sick as if she was coming down with an illness. We know a cyanide death isn’t instantaneous, but it takes minutes to work its lethal power on the victim. Would she be able to leave Eddy’s Deli and return to her townhouse? Probably so. Anyway, she laid down on her bed or sofa and died a short while later.”
“She’d grown too painfully sick and weak to call 911.”
“Exactly. That night the sneaky Lotus stole inside Ladybug’s townhouse during the wee hours while the rest of us were asleep in bed. Lotus cleaned up the townhouse, leaving it extra tidy as we later found it. The next part took a little more effort when she had to switch the clothes on Ladybug’s dead body and put on the swimsuit. Lotus carried out the dead body to load it into her spacious SUV, and she returned to lock up the townhouse.”
“Ladybug’s end unit is more isolated making it easier for Lotus to do it unseen,” said Alma. “We might ask around to see if there are any eyewitnesses like a smoker who ducked outdoors for a cigarette.”
“I know Cecil used to light up a cigarette at night before he could go back to sleep. Somebody may have observed something. At any rate, Lotus drove her SUV and its cargo to the swimming hole. She arranged the scene by the illumination of her SUV’s headlights to appear as if Ladybug had met with a fatal drowning in the river. Lotus gambled on the probability everybody would just accept it as the reason for Ladybug’s death. There would be no suspicion raised to touch off a homicide investigation or to order an autopsy along with a toxicology report.”
“Our scenario is an imaginative while also plausible one.”
“Now if we could only prove it. Perhaps we can by putting more of our focus on Lotus and her recent activities.”
“Tell me about something else that’s been on my mind,” said Alma. “Is taking a trip north to hang out in Alaska on your bucket list?”
Isabel looked horror-stricken. “You know how much I dislike the winter cold, and my growing older only makes it worse. I just get a kick out of looking at the Alaskan photos and reading the articles. All the women’s magazines I used to read are only geared for the young ladies’ interested in their physical beauty, but those days are a fading memory for this old gal.”
Alma nodded in relief. “Do you need to gather any new reading material before we leave the library?”
“I have a tall stack of books to be read piled on my nightstand,” replied Isabel. “Petey Samson keeps knocking against it and spilling the books on the floor for me to pick up and restack.”
A small frown appeared on Alma’s face. “He’s such a troublemaker. I sometimes have to wonder about the reasons why we keep on loving him like we do.”
Isabel smiled. “We just can’t help ourselves when he’s that lovably cute.”
Chapter 27
“We’ve at last had a stroke of good luck,” said Sammi Jo who had visited the Trumbo sisters at home. “Aunt Phyllis sneaked a cell phone by Sheriff Fox and his deputies, and she can reach us from her jail cell any time she feels like it. Is that cool as grits, or what?”
Isabel smiled as Alma got a hearty laugh from Sammi Jo’s disclosure.
“The ingenious Phyllis sure has got a bag of tricks,” said Alma.
“Her worse things to deal with in the town brig are the shabby wardrobe and the bland food plan,” said Isabel.
“Other than that, how is she bearing up?” asked Alma.
“Aunt Phyllis says she is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” replied Sammi Jo. “I’m sure she’ll live and come out of it without any lasting scars.”
“When is her bail hearing?” asked Alma.
“No such thing will happen if Sheriff Fox gets his way, and since he’s the top cop, it looks as if he will make the call,” replied Sammi Jo.
“Roscoe is getting a little too big for his britches,” said Isabel. “There’s always the next election to turn out the rascal, but that does us little good now. Our options are limited to following the only viable choice left to us.”
“Whisper the real killer’s identity into Roscoe’s cocked ear, and he comes out of this case smelling like a rose again,” said Alma.
“You left out the one important new step,” said Isabel. “This time we’ll withhold the killer’s identity until he has released Phyllis from his custody.”
Alma gave a nod. “You have a couple of tricks up your sleeve, do you?”
Before Isabel could tell a fib, her cell phone on the end table shrilled out. She greeted the caller.
“Hello right back at you,” said Sheriff Fox. His voice had turned smugger if that was possible. “I hope your day is going well, Isabel.”
His condescending tone annoyed her. “No thanks to you but we’re doing reasonably okay. I can hardly believe your telephoning me is a social call, not after the shady shenanigans you pulled on us.”
“It’s not a social call, but there’s no reason why we can’t keep this civil and adultlike,” said Sheriff Fox.
“As you wish it then,” said Isabel. She cast her troubled eyes on Alma. “What might be on your mind, Roscoe?”
Alma scowled over how Sheriff Fox, low as a snake, had the brass to expect them to accept taking his phone call made to their house. Being nice to folks had its limits, especially at a stormy time like this.
“I’ll get to the point. My message is a heads up given to you and Alma. Deputy Sheriff Audrey Vogel while conducting her prison cell inspection ran across something very interesting.”
During the Sheriff’s pause, Isabel could picture the gloating grin breaking across his face. She grew so angry she could spit nails as Blue liked to put it.
“Isn’t Deputy Bexley in charge of doing that?” she asked.
“Not anymore because I’ve reassigned him to a desk job and confiscated his keys,” said Sheriff Fox. “He’s grown lax in performing his duties, and I won’t sit still for that in my department.”
“Then what did the eagle-eyed Audrey find of such great interest to us?”
“Phyllis had a cell phone on her person. However, as you can well imagine, possessing such contraband is not allowed, and we confiscated it.”
“Oh.”
Alma whispered to Isabel who looke
d crestfallen. “Oh, what?” asked Alma.
Oh can’t be anything good, thought Sammi Jo also disconcerted.
“Therefore Phyllis won’t be placing any further covert phone calls to you ladies on the outside,” said Sheriff Fox. “That’s too bad, isn’t it?”
“Will that be all for now, Sheriff Fox?” asked Isabel.
“Not quite, no, it isn’t. Consider this to be my last warning,” replied Sheriff Fox. “Anymore monkey business which I find going on like this will be dealt with swiftly and severely.”
“Our attorney will be in touch with you shortly,” said Isabel.
“I shall await Dwight’s call with bated breath since I’ve got something to tell him,” said Sheriff Fox. “In the interim, have a nice day.” He gave with a boastful snicker as he ended their connection.
New worry wrinkles creased Isabel’s forehead as she set down her cell phone. “I guess you can tell what that was all about. Sheriff Fox has found and appropriated Phyllis’s cell phone, and she no longer has a lifeline to reach us. She must be left devastated. We better look up the prison visitation hours.”
“Sheriff Fox also sounds well pleased with himself,” said Sammi Jo.
“He’s reverted to acting like the same old Roscoe,” said Isabel.
“Don’t hesitate to call a spade a spade, Isabel,” said Sammi Jo. “Sheriff Fox is being a twenty-four karat jerk.”
Isabel didn’t jump to his defense, and her silence spoke volumes about how much she agreed with Sammi Jo’s frank assessment.
“This new development puts us at a slight disadvantage,” said Alma. “Phyllis is on her own down there now.”
Isabel was unwilling to yield even a slight advantage to Sheriff Fox. “We’ll have to put on our thinking caps and bear down to work smarter and harder than he does.”
“Oh sure, that’s no big deal,” said Alma. “We’ll just work smarter and harder than Sheriff Fox. Do you want to translate the specifics of what that means to Sammi Jo and me? I’m running out of brilliant ideas about what to do next. Sammi Jo, are you seeing any way out of this latest sand trap?”
“Nothing that’s worth mentioning,” replied Sammi Jo. She tapped on the side of her head. “My thinking cap must be a defective one, or it isn’t performing up to snuff today.”
“Let’s start from the first of the case and run through it again,” said Isabel.
“The beginning is Curt and Ladybug Miles residing as husband and wife in Chicago,” said Alma.
“Then Ladybug got divorced, left Chicago, and moved back to Quiet Anchorage,” said Sammi Jo.
“Later Curt flew out to San Francisco,” said Alma. “But he didn’t return home to Chicago.”
“One detail about Curt’s bridge jump bugs me,” said Isabel. She looked at Sammi Jo. “Phyllis indicated Ladybug told her the authorities never recovered Curt’s dead body from the bay.”
“Ladybug gave Aunt Phyllis that piece of information,” said Sammi Jo. “I googled it before her laptop bit the dust. Sometimes the bay’s tides sweep the dead body out to the open Pacific where the recovery is made almost impossible.”
“The changing tides might account for the fate of Curt’s dead body,” said Isabel. “But it also might be true there was no dead body to recover.”
“Do you mean to say Curt Miles never—?” asked Sammi Jo.
Isabel’s busy cell phone got even busier, and she smiled apologetically at Sammi Jo while greeting her caller.
“Hi, Isabel. Dwight here.”
“Hello, Dwight. Your tone sounds agitated. What is going on?”
“Nothing that is good.”
“Then you better talk to me.”
“For starters, I just got off the phone with Sheriff Fox.”
“He doesn’t waste any time since I also just had a chat with him.”
“Well, he lowered the boom on us during my chat.”
“That is strange since I haven’t heard any loud noise made at our house. Hold on, and I’ll ask Sammi Jo and Alma sitting here if they’ve heard anything.” Isabel took down and covered the cell phone with her palm. She spoke to the other ladies. “I’ve got Dwight on the line, and Sheriff Fox has done something else unpleasant to get Dwight all stirred up like a poked hornets’ nest.”
“Sheriff Fox doesn’t mind throwing his weight around when he goes on a tear,” said Sammi Jo. “Is there anybody who can rein him in before it’s too late for us?”
“The mayor flew to Marco Island to look for his retirement property, and Sheriff Fox doesn’t have a boss,” replied Alma.
“Nice work if you can get it,” said Sammi Jo.
Alma scratched one elbow and then the other felt itchy, so she scratched it, too. “See what Dwight has to say, and we’ll have to take it from there.”
Isabel got back on her cell phone, saying, “Give me the latest developments, Dwight, and please don’t sugarcoat them.”
“Sheriff Fox has banned me from stepping foot inside his station house,” said Dwight. “Therefore I’m unable consult with Phyllis today which I consider to be crucial for her legal defense.”
“Can he do such an overbearing thing?” asked Isabel.
“It’s highly irregular and questionably constitutional,” replied Dwight. “But Sheriff Fox runs the show at the station house and jail as he wishes, so what he says goes. We can do little about it except abide by his tyrannical decisions.”
“Well, then—”
“Before you say what I think you’re going to say, let me tell you it gets more painful. He has further stipulated you ladies are also placed under his new ban.”
“We are not allowed to see Phyllis, too. Our bully of a sheriff has gotten away with too much of pushing around the little people.”
“I had the same thought,” said Dwight. “That’s why I’m getting off the phone, and I want you to stand by for taking the next ring soon after I hang up. Make sure to leave on your cell phone and be listening for it.”
“Who will I be talking to when I answer my ring, Dwight?” asked Isabel.
“I prefer you to hear it directly from the party rather than from me. Bye for now, Isabel.”
Dwight cancelled their signal, and Isabel did likewise. She looked at Alma then Sammi Jo, saying, “Roscoe just banned Dwight and us from going into the station house and seeing Phyllis.”
“Let’s ask Willie to go let the air out of Sheriff Fox’s tires again,” said Sammi Jo. “That should slow him down a little.”
“Dwight is our attorney,” said Alma. “What does he recommend we do now?”
“He says a mystery caller is supposed to contact me any second,” replied Isabel.
“Will his mystery caller be able to help us?” asked Alma never looking any glummer.
Isabel gave a shrug. “It beats me but to hear Dwight tell it, yes. The best I can say to do is to sit tight and see what happens.”
Just then, her cell phone, as promised, rang. The skeptical Isabel fielded the call with a dispirited greeting. “Hello, this Isabel Trumbo speaking.”
“Isabel, how are you, dear?” was her caller’s upbeat salutation.
Alma was tugging on Isabel’s sleeve and whispering. “Who is it, Isabel? Huh? Who has called you? Tell me. I’ve got to know, or I’ll go bonkers.”
“Helen, the sound of your voice is a relief to hear,” said Isabel while giving Alma a confident wink translating to they were riding tall in the saddle again. The jubilant Alma responded with a fist pump in the air. Judge Helen Redfern was in touch, and the sisters finally had a way to slow down and maybe stop Sheriff Fox’s steamroller.
“I contacted my bailiff who had me call Dwight, and he filled me in on what’s been going on while I’ve been away,” said Judge Redfern. “I’m appalled over the negative report I received.”
“How did you know to call back home?” asked Isabel.
Judge Redfern laughed with little mirth. “A good judge always keeps her ear planted to the ground, especially if her sherif
f is anything like our rogue one. Roscoe Fox’s head has gotten too swollen to wear his sheriff’s hat.”
“We are feeling the same way,” said Isabel. “Can you do anything to fix that situation?”
“Best case scenario, I can pull some strings and get him fired on the spot,” replied Judge Redfern. “That should put him in his place. What do you think about my doing that? Should I contact the mayor down in Marco Island? I have his personal cell phone number.”
Isabel gave the prospect a moment’s due reflection. Getting Sheriff Fox sacked as he deserved was tempting, but was it a prudent move? She didn’t know what blowback they’d catch from any of his loyal deputies. On the other hand, they might also rejoice over their callous boss getting fired, but she wasn’t willing to take the chance to find out.
“Maybe this time it would be better if you let Sheriff Fox off with a stern warning,” said Isabel.
“I’m a professional when it comes to chewing out anybody who has stepped over the line,” said Judge Redfern. “This time Sheriff Fox has clearly done that. Let me get back to you after he and I have had a little chat.”
Chapter 28
Hunched over his desk, Sheriff Fox was feeling a mite frazzled as he closed his eyes. His lower back muscles were tied in knots. His breaths were quick and shallow. He abhorred gazing down at the palm-sized instrument of terror, his cell phone, lying on the desktop. It was no wonder.
He’d just gotten off the line with Judge Helen Redfern, and theirs had been anything but a friendly chat. Seeing more red than at a lipstick factory, she let him have it. The latest Roscoe Rule he’d made said never get on a judge’s ornery side. Not if you valued keeping your livelihood, and he liked his job a lot.
Somehow or other, he’d provoked Helen’s ire. She let him know that he’d overstepped the bounds of his office, and she had gone so far as to call him a “playground bully.” He dismissed her accusation by saying, “Sticks and stones, Helen.” Giving her that sassy quip proved his undoing.
“It is Your Honor and not Helen,” Judge Redfern had said, her voice crackling with the frosty formality she used from the bench while presiding over her courtroom. “Are we clear, Sheriff Fox?”
