The Deadly Jellybean Affair

by Carrie Marsh

  Looking down, Hillary noticed her hands were shaking terribly. “I know my wallet is in here somewhere.”

  “Take your time, Hillary. I’m in no hurry.” Mary tried to soothe the obviously distraught woman but to no avail.

  “Just give me a minute.” Hillary pulled out her keys, a checkbook, a package of tissues, her cell phone then finally her wallet. It was a paper-thin contraption that Mary thought could easily get lost in a bag. But looking past Hillary’s hands as they unfolded a few dollar bills, she saw something frightening.

  They were in a plastic bag, at least half a dozen of them. Giant jellybeans. Just like the ones that had been pulled from Summer’s throat.

  Now it was Mary’s turn to have shaking hands.

  “Here you go.” Hillary sighed. Her voice was under much more control. Her body slumped just a little as if she had suddenly become embarrassed of her behavior. “I’m sorry I ran on like that.”

  Mary’s eyes snapped up from the horrific sight of those candies and managed a smile. “I’m glad it was me you spoke to, Hillary.” Mary thought she sounded as comforting and honest as she would have been had it been her own son talking crazy talk. “You can talk to me anytime. I hope you will.”

  Hillary stood in front of Mary with wide eyes. Her mouth trembled for a split second as if the words were banging on her lips, trying to get out, but then flashed into that wide Joker smile, crinkling her eyes into slits.

  “I have some lovely geodes at my house in my garden in the backyard.” She nodded her head. “Maybe you’d like to come over to see them some time and we could have some iced tea on the back deck.”

  “I’d like that very much, Hillary.”

  “Well, it would have to be soon. I think I’m going away… uh, for my day job. I’m going to Chicago. For work. A convention. I’ll let you know.”

  Without another word, Hillary Hulka turned and left the store.

  “What do I do?” Mary muttered. “If that woman didn’t just confess to me that she had a motive to kill Summer and have the murder weapons in a baggie in her purse.” She put her hand to her throat. “Andrew. I need to call Andrew.”

  Pulling her huge sack purse out from underneath the counter, she began digging through its contents.

  “Oh, come on. Mary, are you kidding?” Finally, after pulling the exact same maneuver as Hillary Hulka did a few minutes ago, Mary had emptied the entire contents of her purse. However, unlike Hillary, Mary didn’t find what she was looking for. “Ugh!” She slapped her forehead as she visualized her cellphone on the sideboard near the front door. “Mary Tuttle, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached.”

  The idea to run next door to use Grace’s phone occurred to her but just as she was about to leave the store, a couple of gothic college students came in. They waved politely, smiling black, painted lips and waving black painted nails at Mary, who smiled back and welcomed them.

  “Business is business,” she muttered. Besides, what did she really have but the crazy ranting of a distraught wife? She probably killed Summer Moran by forcing jellybeans down her throat then beating her body once she was sure Summer couldn’t fight back.

  A few more minutes wasn’t going to make a bit of difference. The woman wasn’t leaving for Chicago tonight.

  Mary watched the goths as they drifted from table to table speaking in low voices and admiring the silver findings that included charms of spider webs, scorpions, half-moons and other witchy things.

  They looked around and promised to come back, and Mary mentioned a sale coming up at the end of the month. It was true; everything would be half off to make room for new inventory.

  Before another customer could wander in, Mary hustled to the door, pulled it closed, and locked it tight. Flipping off the lights at the front of the store, she decided to take the receipts home and reconcile them there after she spoke with Andrew. She’d be good until tomorrow and the bank deposit could be dropped on the way home.

  The empty phone jack caught her eye as she was leaving and she decided a land line was probably a good idea. Heaven knows when she’d have to report a suspected murderer to her son again. Like the Boy Scouts, she vowed from this point on to always be prepared.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THREE’S A CROWD

  THREE’S A CROWD

  Murphy’s Law dictated that whenever a person was in a hurry to get home, they were doomed to hit every red light along the way.

  “I’ll make it home ten feet at a time.” Every time the light would go green, she’d pull ahead just to get caught by the ill-timed signal at the next block that turned red before she could hit the gas and speed through.

  Collecting her thoughts, she tried to be positive that Fate was telling her to cool her jets, think this through, and analyze if Hillary had really said anything that was of any real importance.

  “I wonder if Andrew interviewed her.” She tapped the steering wheel. “I’m sure he did. He probably interviewed half the city. He’s a good cop. Definitely one of the good guys.”

  Finally, she made her way to Tree Top Lane but when she got to her house, she nearly got into an accident with a brand new Lexus that was coming in the opposite direction. Before she could get a look at the driver, they stopped the car and flashed their lights.

  Mary pulled her car into the driveway and watched in the rearview mirror as the Lexus pulled up behind her. The driver got out, waving nervously. It was Ray Hulka.

  “This is weird.”

  “Mary! Hi! Sorry to pop in on you like this,” he said as they climbed out of their cars simultaneously.

  “This is a surprise. Hello, Ray.” She slammed her car door shut and walked over to the front of Ray’s car. “Is something the matter?”

  “It’s Hillary.”

  “Is she all right?” Mary squinted at Ray and tugged the bottom of her shirt down.

  “She’s okay. Well, sort of. She said she spoke with you this evening. When I asked her what about, she just started to laugh and went onto the back porch with a tub of my homemade ice cream and a spoon.” Ray’s eyes were full of worry. “Can you tell me what she spoke to you about?”

  Mary blinked her eyes in shock. “Honestly, Ray, she didn’t say much of anything.” She chose her words carefully. “Let me see. She told me that she learned gemology for your Internet jewelry business, and we discussed some of the stones I have in my shop.”

  Mary tapped her chin with her right index finger and repeated the things Hillary had said, paraphrasing but getting the general gist across.

  “Ray.” Mary took a step closer and put her hand on his arm. “Has Hillary ever shown any violent tendencies? Has she ever had a tantrum or a fit?”

  It was like he had been pulled up on a string. Ray’s back stiffened, and he squared his shoulders. “Hillary is a kind and gentle woman. She’s never hurt so much as a fly. She can barely bring herself to kill a spider in the house and she hates spiders.”

  “You don’t think she’s capable of hurting anyone?”

  “Mary, I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating,” Ray huffed. “I came here to ask you for help and all I get are queer questions about my wife’s temperament in return. You could only wish to be half the lady she is.”

  Without another word, Ray Hulka turned and flopped back behind the wheel of his Lexus, slamming the door. With squealing tires, he pulled out of Mary’s driveway and sped away.

  “What the heck just happened?”

  Mary rubbed her head. She decided she wasn’t going to call Andrew. The Hulkas didn’t need the police at their home. They needed a team of psychiatrists. But, as she told Alabaster of the strange visits, she couldn’t help but feel she was missing something.

  “What do you think?” she asked Alabaster while fixing them both a snack.

  Hillary may just be feeling tremendous guilt over Summer dying. Perhaps she was mean to her. Maybe the last words she ever spoke to her were cruel. People do that all the time. They don’t get
the chance to make it right with additional lives like we cats do. Not that we ever make mistakes like that.

  “You’re just so perfect, aren’t you?” Mary nuzzled the cat with her nose as her hands were in the sink, washing bright green leaves of lettuce. “But if you could have heard her. She was like a zombie one second and then an over-caffeinated tightrope walker the next.”

  So, what do you want to do?

  “Something crazy.” Mary shook her head.

  Not the Outlaws again?

  “No. I don’t think that group had anything to do with Summer’s death. It may be the one and only violent crime they didn’t have anything to do with but I’m almost positive they are just a convenient scapegoat.”

  What about Bruce McGovern? Andrew thinks he did it and got the payback for it. I’d hesitate to think that Andrew was wrong. He’s so wonderful.

  “Yes, he is.” Mary smiled as she slid a cooked skinless chicken breast onto her plate and proceeded to cut it into little pieces, half going to Alabaster, the other half on her salad. “But I’m not convinced.”

  So, what is your plan?

  “Don’t worry. It doesn’t involve anything more than just looking around. I don’t have to talk to anyone. In fact, no one will even know I’m there.”

  Where?

  “At the Hulkas’ house.”

  What are you going to do? Peep in their windows? There is a name for people who do that.

  “All I need is a quick concealment spell. It only needs to last a few minutes. Half an hour, tops.”

  Do you have any idea how hard those are to do? They aren’t reliable and you are totally out of practice. Do you really think this is a good idea?

  “Well, sure it’s a good idea. I probably don’t even need it. It’s dark outside. I’m not going to go in their house. I‘m just going to snoop around. That’s all.”

  If I remember right, you need feathers from a finch. Do you have any feathers from a finch? No. So, a concealment spell is out of the question.

  Mary’s sigh puffed out her cheeks. “Then I guess I go as I am.”

  Before Alabaster could change her mind, Mary was off with her car keys in her hand. Her cell phone and wallet still sitting contentedly on the side table by the front door.

  The neighborhood the Hulkas lived in seemed exceptionally quiet at night. The big houses had their porch lights on as well as any decorative spotlights or house number illuminators. Mary drove past their house and continued down about three blocks more. She parked the car behind another car already on the street. That seemed much less suspicious.

  As she walked back, she listened but didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Traffic was buzzing a couple blocks over on the main drag through this part of town. The leaves rustled at the slightest breeze that must have been tickling through only the highest branches since Mary didn’t feel a thing. She would have welcomed a cool rush since she was sweating a good deal underneath her arms. The low rumble of a jet at thirty thousand feet was the only other distinct sound Mary could hear until she got to the Hulkas’ address.

  With a quick glance in all directions, Mary dashed to the side of the house and pressed her back up against the brick siding of the Hulka estate. She felt like Steve McQueen in The Great Escape. Any minute now, half a dozen Germans were going to run after her with barking dogs straining at their leashes and spotlights swooping over the grounds to find her.

  “Get a hold of yourself, Mary,” she scolded then headed for the backyard.

  The Hulkas didn’t have a fence around their property like many of their neighbors. Peeking around the corner, Mary saw a beautifully lit tri-level deck that led out to an impeccably landscaped garden of flowers and stones.

  “All this from an Internet jewelry business and homemade ice-cream?” Mary shook her head. “I suppose there are stranger things.”

  Just as she was about to inch her way farther into the property, Hillary threw open the sliding door and stepped out onto the deck. In the golden lantern light from the sconces on either side of the door, Mary could see she was holding a glass of wine.

  “Do you want a refill?” Ray’s voice came from inside the house.

  “No,” Hillary replied.

  Several seconds later, Ray appeared and stepped onto the deck next to his wife, wine glass in hand.

  “It’s a beautiful night,” Ray mused. Hillary said nothing. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled. I just don’t understand where this jealousy has come from all of a sudden.”

  “All of a sudden?” Hillary’s words were filled with vinegar.

  “Hill, it’s over. I swear to you.”

  Mary held her breath and listened.

  “But there will be another one.” Hillary sniffled. “And another. And another. How many letters will I find? How many more notes do I have to discover? What other relatives to you are out there who trip your trigger? Another cousin? An aunt maybe? What kind of sick joy do you get out of this?”

  Ray went to comfort his wife but she shrugged him off.

  “None,” he said flatly and stormed into the house. He emerged from the house a few seconds later with a handful of paper. “You’ll never see this again.” He stomped down the steps of the deck, heading right for Mary. Frozen at the corner of the house, she wished for a crack or a shadow to disappear into. But instead of coming face to face with Ray, she heard a garbage can lid open, a flurry of papers fall into its open maw, and then the lid being slammed back down.

  Mary’s didn’t realize her jaw was hanging open until a fly buzzed in it. Clamping her hand over her mouth and desperately trying not to cough, she pulled herself farther away from the edge of the house. With a grimace, she swallowed and felt the soft body of the fly descend her esophagus into the sea of acid in her stomach.

  “Come on. It’s getting cold outside,” Ray encouraged, his voice soft.

  “I’ll be in when I feel like it,” Hillary snapped.

  “Fine!” Ray shouted and stomped into the house, slamming the sliding door shut with such force Mary felt the house vibrate against her back.

  After standing there a few more minutes, Mary had to agree with Ray. It was getting colder and colder by the minute. She had to watch what she was doing so that no one would notice her breath that was quickly taking on the state of steam as it came from her mouth and nostrils.

  Finally, just as Mary’s fingers were beginning to go numb, she heard the sliding door open and shut. Hillary had quietly gone back in the house and, as if that wasn’t good enough, she snapped off the lights on the back porch. The only lights remaining were the solar-powered decorative lights along the path through their yard.

  Without wasting a second, Mary crossed the five feet from the corner of the house to the garbage can and carefully lifted the lid. Of course, the papers had fallen all the way to the bottom of the plastic can.

  Bending over at the waist, Mary leaned halfway into the can, her arm stretched down as far as it could go, but just brushing the papers with her fingertips.

  She would have to lay the garbage can down and literally crawl inside.

  As if swallowing a fly wasn’t disgusting enough. Now she had to quietly ease the garbage can on its side, hold the lid up with one hand as the other crawled in, feeling gummy, germy, dirty crud that was sticking to all sides of the container until she could get a hold of the papers Ray tossed away.

  You just swallowed a live bug. This is only the normal progression from there. Looking up toward the sliding door, she waited and listened. There was no sound from inside and from her vantage point, she couldn’t see any movement.

  Gently, she tipped the big, blue canister onto its wheels and lowered it to the ground. Pulling the lid up again and leaning inside, the smell of rot and soiled food was a lot more intense than it had been when the can stood upright.

  Taking a huge gulp of air, Mary held her breath as she slinked inside. Her pupils expanded as she tried to focus in the darkness. Finally, stretching out her hand, she felt the
papers but as she curled her fingers around them, her nails scraped against the bottom of the can, gouging up the layer of filth that was there.

  The muscles in her whole body recoiled in revulsion. Crumpling the paper in her fist, she quickly backed out of the plastic container. But in her haste to be free of the smells and textures, she let the lid fall closed with a loud bang.

  In a flash, she stood the container up and ducked into a shadow just underneath the lip of the deck, hidden from view by the steps.

  Mary clutched the papers to her chest and waited.

  The sound had indeed alerted the Hulkas to someone being on their property. At least, it alerted Ray. With a stealthy gait, he descended the deck steps and went to the garbage can. It seemed he had the same idea as Mary. He wanted those letters back. His promise to Hillary barely made it a quarter of an hour. When he saw they weren’t there, Mary’s heart rushed up her throat as if it wanted to peek out her mouth to see if the anger on Ray’s face was real.

  He looked again, shaking the garbage can as if he thought maybe the letters Hillary was so offended by had stuck to the sides or were somehow hiding from him.

  Slowly, he closed the lid and looked around.

  “Is anyone out there?” he called.

  Mary became a statue. Even when she felt the tiny legs of an unknown insect or arachnid crawl across her hand, she remained still. Even as her imagination told her she was sitting in a spider’s web or inches away from a snake den, she didn’t move.

  If she made the slightest shift, the tiniest scoot, she’d give herself away. There was no telling what would happen, since Mary was nearly one hundred percent sure that Hillary Hulka was capable of murder.

  Even if Andrew found her car three blocks away, they wouldn’t tie her to the Hulkas. They could bury her in their backyard and no one would ever find her.

  But before it came to that, Ray Hulka walked to the side of the house where Mary had previously been standing and looked around the corner. Seeing no one, he came stomping back. Mary could make out his clenched fists in the dim light as he ascended the steps to the deck and opened the sliding door.