by Steve Laracy
“Yes, I’ve enjoyed my little stay here more than I thought I would when I arrived.”
“I hope I’m part of the reason for that,” said Felicity.
“You are,” I said, reaching out to take her hand from across the table. She didn’t pull it away. “Still, I’m disappointed that I couldn’t solve the town’s little mysteries. I guess I gave everyone a bad impression of San Diego private detectives.”
“Don’t be silly. It was nice of you to offer to help.”
I didn’t mention I had sort of been roped in by the local residents.
“Anyway, I think I may hang around a day or two longer. There’s nothing pressing in San Diego, and I hesitate to leave while Costello is still in town. Which reminds me, I should call my office phone and see if I have any messages. I’ll be right back.”
I walked over to the phone, which was attached to the wall between the restrooms. After some difficulty, I figured out how to access my voicemail and found as I suspected that all the messages were from bill collectors or salespeople. No requests for my services were included.
I returned to the booth and squeezed into my seat.
“Nothing that can’t wait at home, so I guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer.”
“I’m not complaining,” Felicity said. This time she grabbed my hand and I didn’t pull away either.
By now it was midafternoon, so we headed back to the boardinghouse so Felicity could prepare supper. As we walked, I noticed a few grayish clouds overhead, the first clouds I had noticed since I’d been here.
“Do you get any rain at all around here?” I asked Felicity.
“Not often, but we get some. We have a rainy season that lasts for about a week.”
When we arrived at the boardinghouse, Silas was standing on the porch also surveying the clouds.
“My senses tell me we’re in for bad weather. I think I’ll go over to the Cavendish place again and try to see if I can get in,” he said.
“Don’t bother,” I said. “She won’t see you.”
“Nevertheless, I’ll give it a try.”
“Better take an umbrella. It looks like the weather is turning nasty,” Felicity said. “There’s one in the stand inside the door.”
Silas went in, grabbed the umbrella, and took off.
Just as we walked in the door, the sky opened up and it began to pour.
Judging by the stillness inside the house, Costello was still out and so was the Kid.
“I hope the rain lets up before tonight. It’s ladies’ night at the boardinghouse, and all the girls are coming over for gossip and goodies. You’re welcome to hang around, but it probably wouldn’t interest you much.”
“No thanks. I’ll wander over to the tavern after dinner and hang out with the menfolk.”
Since Costello would not be around for supper, cutting the food consumption by half, Felicity took it easy and just prepare sandwiches for dinner for whoever showed up. She decided to read and went to the parlor to grab a book.
I followed and sat down in an easy chair, picked up Crime and Punishment, and opened the book.
“On second thought,” I said, getting up from the chair, “I think I’ll head upstairs and take a nap. I’ll sleep better up there.”
> CHAPTER 24
MEN’S NIGHT
The nap was made pleasant by the sound of the rain on the roof above, which was heavy at times but slowed down intermittently. After an hour’s rest, I got up and went downstairs. Felicity was now setting the dining room table for dinner. A loaf of bread had been placed on the table along with some sliced turkey and roast beef, lettuce and tomato slices, various condiments, and a large bag of potato chips.
She looked up as I entered and said, “How was the nap?”
“Fine.” I eyed the spread on the table. “The patter of rain on the roof helped.”
“I know it’s not much of a supper,” Felicity said, noting my glance, “but a cook needs a break. Besides, it will make the cleanup easier so I can finish before the girls arrive. It looks like the rain is letting up some, so girls’ night is still on.”
“I’m not complaining,” I replied. “Everything looks good. I could also use an easier cleanup. I think I’m getting dishwasher hands.”
Felicity laughed and turned to look as the front door opened. Silas and Fred walked in together. Silas closed the umbrella, shook it on the porch, and returned it to the umbrella stand. After they had dried off a little, we all sat down to dinner sans Costello, who had not returned.
Silas said he had gone to Mrs. C’s house after he left us, but she had again refused to see him. While there he ran into the Kid, who was doing yard work for Mrs. C.
Fred said, “I take care of the lawn and do any repairs that need to be made. Rogers is getting on in years and can’t handle the maintenance like he used to.”
“That Rogers seems to be a stuffy gent,” I said. “Where did Mrs. C find him?”
“He came with Mrs. C when she moved here from San Francisco. Working for her for so many years hasn’t improved his disposition.”
“What’s the deal with her? She seems to lord it over the town.”
Felicity replied, “When she came to Cordoba, she took the town under her wing, not that we needed it. She paid for some improvements such as sidewalk repair and new street signs.”
“She had to replace the street signs, Felicity,” Fred commented, “when she changed the name of Fifth Street to Fifth Avenue. The other signs had to be replaced to match her new one.”
“Seems like she gets some preferential treatment around here,” Silas said.
“I guess you could say that,” Felicity replied, “but it doesn’t hurt the rest of us any, and it seems to make her happy. No, I take it back. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her—or Rogers—look happy. Satisfied, I guess, is a better description. I think if you can treat someone the way they want to be treated without causing yourself harm, why not do it.”
“Makes sense, I guess,” I said, digesting my sandwich as well as the conversation.
Dinner completed, Silas and the Kid headed out to walk to the diner. I told them I would see them there later and hung around to help with the cleanup.
The rain had let up and the ladies started arriving. I said hello to Millie Fremont, Phyllis Childers, and Leo, who arrived together. I noticed Leo was dressed a little more conservatively tonight, or maybe just more casual. No heels and gold glitter, just flats and flannel. Several other women I didn’t recognize also arrived and Felicity introduced me to them.
“Get out of here and head down to the tavern so we can get started with the gossip,” said Millie as she pushed me out the front door. “We’ll help Felicity finish the cleanup.”
“Tell Phil to take it easy with the beer,” yelled Phyllis, who, like Phil, was jolly and round.
The rain had stopped, but there were still clouds above. The weather had cooled, and the walk to the tavern was pleasant. I arrived after Silas and the Kid. Silas was sitting on a stool in the middle of the bar, trying to convince a fellow I didn’t recognize of the usefulness of a lightning rod, especially on nights like tonight. Fred was at the counter to the right, talking to Lucky O’Leary. Ben and Phil were in their normal spots. In the booth to the left of the entrance, Hector Suarez and Bert Fremont were playing a card game. All the cards were lying face down and jumbled up on the table between them. I stopped by on my way past to say hello.
“How’s it going, guys?” I asked. “What are you playing?”
“It’s called Scramble,” said Bert. “All the cards are placed facedown on the table and mixed up. Each player flips over two cards and tries to match the same number or picture. If he matches, he gets to keep the cards. If not, he returns the cards facedown to the pile. Whoever ends up with the most matches wins.”
“It looks like Hector has got you beat,” I said, noting the difference in the size of their piles.
“Yeah, but when he turns over his cards,
he flashes them quickly so it’s hard to get a good look. And he slides the cards that don’t match back into the middle of the pile so it’s harder to remember where they are, rather than place them on top, like you are supposed to.”
“Who says you are supposed to?” countered Hector in feigned anger. “Show me in the rulebook where it says you have to place the cards on top.”
“I left my copy of Hoyle at home, so I guess I’ll give you a pass,” Bert countered with a smile.
Hector turned to me and said, “Harry at the repair shop called and said your car was done and ready to be picked up.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll run over in the morning and get it.”
“I can give a lift if you like on my way to school,” Bert said.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll pick you up about eight.”
I continued to where Ben and Phil were sitting and took a stool next to Ben. I ordered a Somotha for variety. The two were watching the Padres game on a small black-and-white television sitting on a platform near the ceiling of the diner. Unless it was snowing in San Diego, the reception was lousy, and it was difficult to make out details.
The Padres were wearing their military uniforms with the camouflage shirts, and Ben and Phil were arguing.
“Why is a San Diego team wearing army uniforms?” Ben was saying. “San Diego is a navy town. Tell him, Milo,” he said.
“That’s right,” I said. “I want to see them wearing dress blues.”
“They wear the camouflage because it makes it difficult for the other team to see them,” Phil said. “Watch that Padre on first base. He’s going to steal second any minute.”
Sure enough, the player broke for second on the next pitch and made it in standing, without a throw from the catcher.
“See what I mean?” said Phil. “The catcher couldn’t see him down there at first base and forgot he was there.”
“I don’t know about the catcher, but with that picture,” I said motioning to the TV, “I had difficulty seeing him.”
“We don’t get the best reception out here,” said Phil.
“But it doesn’t matter because we only pick up three stations anyway,” Ben added.
From the other end of the bar, I heard the Kid, who was still talking to Lucky, exclaim, “Nobody puts nothin’ over on Fred C. Dobbs.”
“Look at that,” Ben said. “He actually gets to be Fred C. Dobbs tonight. Lucky must be telling him tales of the gold he’s going to find up in the hills.”
“I guess you’ll be leaving soon now that you have your jalopy back,” Phil said.
“I might stay another day or two,” I said. “I have a little business to clear up, which involves having a conversation with our friend Costello.”
The diner door then opened, and Doc walked in. He said his hellos to everyone and took a seat next to Phil. He threw a dollar bill on the counter and ordered a drink from Frank. “Three fingers of redeye in a dirty glass, my good man, and leave out the little umbrella.”
Frank drew a beer, plopped it down in front of Doc, and took the bill to an old-fashioned cash register at the end of the bar near where Doc was sitting. He pushed a few buttons and the cash drawer opened. He deposited the dollar and withdrew three quarters, putting them on the counter in front of Doc.
“I’ll have another myself,” said Phil, pushing his empty glass forward, “and put a little blood in this one.”
Frank grabbed the glass and poured Phil another beer. He then reached under the counter and came up with a small can of tomato juice. He grabbed a can opener, opened the can, and poured a small amount of tomato juice into Phil’s beer. After placing the remaining tomato juice in a small refrigerator, Frank took a quarter from the counter in front of Phil, leaving two quarters behind. I guessed this was either Phil’s second beer or his sixth. Frank took the quarter to the register, put it on the counter, and picked up a small pad and pencil sitting on the cash drawer. He then scribbled something on the pad, ripped the piece of paper from the pad, picked up Phil’s quarter, pushed a few more buttons, and deposited both the quarter and the paper into the cash drawer.
When he returned, Phil asked Frank, “What did you write on the paper you put in the register?”
“Oh, that,” Frank said. “I had to put an IOU in the register for Hilda. The tomato juice belongs to her and the diner. She can get ugly if I take her stock and don’t pay her back.”
Changing the subject, Doc said, “Have you and your tiny Watson had any luck finding my magazines?”
“I’m afraid not, Doc,” I said. “What can you tell me about the roller derby?”
Doc gave me a quizzical look, but answered, “I remember watching roller derby in the fifties when it was the big sport on television. Sports wasn’t on TV much in those days, just roller derby and wrestling, and I think they were both fixed. Back then when television first started, there were only a few channels, and you had to watch on small sets with lousy reception.”
“Thank heaven for today’s technology!” Phil exclaimed, motioning at the TV above the counter.
Doc gave him a dirty look, then continued, “There was a professional roller derby league made up of teams from the major cities around the country. The game was played—and still is, although not as popular—on a round or oval wooden track, banked up the outside. Teams of men and women, wearing helmets, the women dressed in sort of Wonder Woman costumes, took turns skating around the rink for a minute or two at a time. There was one skater in the lead, and the objective of the other team was to have as many members pass that skater as possible, receiving a point for each member that made it. The other team would try to stop them from passing by blocking the lanes and elbowing anyone who tried to pass.”
“Sort of like NASCAR without the cars,” Phil jumped in again.
“Exactly,” said Doc. “All the skaters adopted fake names and nicknames just like the wrestlers. Why do you ask?”
“Both of the issues that were taken from your waiting room contained articles about roller derby.”
“That’s good detective work,” said Doc. I neglected to tell him that tiny Watson deserved the credit.
As we were talking, I noticed the Kid and Lucky O’Leary get up and leave together. A moment later we heard Lucky’s Jeep start up and drive away.
“Looks like Lucky is taking the Kid out to his claim in the Sierra Madre,” said Ben.
“Will Fred be safe out there?” I asked, concerned.
“He’ll be fine,” said Ben. “Either Lucky will drive him back or he’ll spend the night up at Lucky’s campsite. Lucky enjoys the company.”
After a few more beers, the crowd in the tavern thinned out, and I decided to be part of the thinning process. As I got up to leave, Doc also got up and said, “I’ll walk with you back to the boardinghouse. I have to pick up Leo on the way home.”
As we walked, I said to Doc, “Are you familiar with Doctor Baker over in Bell City?”
“I’ve had a run-in or two with him. He’s not much respected around here. Got his job as medical examiner and coroner because he’s Chief Baker’s brother, and nobody likes to cross Chief Baker. Why do you ask?”
“I talked to him today about Billy Webster’s death, and he was evasive. He seems anxious to label the death an accident and close the case.”
“Well, wasn’t it an accident?”
“Probably, but I don’t like certain aspects of the case, and the Chief and Doctor Baker don’t seem to want me around. Turkey Trotz found a syringe in the plane yesterday after Billy jumped. I didn’t want to turn it over to Doctor Baker, thinking it might get accidentally lost or be used to discredit Billy. Do you know anything about Billy Webster, whether he had a drug habit? Annie said he had a bout with cancer.”
“No drugs as far as I know,” Doc replied. “He has been fighting cancer for several years but seemed to be improving.”
“Do you know his doctor? Maybe I should talk to him.”
“Charlie Coope
r. He’s a good man, but he won’t give you much information. He may maintain confidentiality even though Billy is dead.”
“I thought he might be able to tell me if Billy was taking any medication through injection.”
“I’ll tell you what. Charlie is a friend of mine. If you like I can head over to Bell City tomorrow and pay Charlie a visit. He’s more likely to open up to me, and besides, based on what you tell me, it might be a good idea for you to steer clear of Bell City and the Baker boys.”
“Thanks, Doc. Bert’s giving me a ride to Bell City to pick up my car tomorrow, but I won’t linger any longer than necessary.”
“Perfect,” Doc replied. “Have Bert pick me up on your way and we can go together.”
As we approached the boardinghouse, Doc looked up at the sky and observed, “It appears we’re in for more bad weather tomorrow.”
Inside, Felicity was sitting at the dining room table talking to Leo, who was the last woman left. The table was filled with empty glasses and half-filled bowls of snacks.
Doc gathered up Leo and they said good night.
Felicity and I made small talk for a while. Then she yawned and said, “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in early. Leave the dishes and we’ll do them in the morning.”
I walked up the stairs with Felicity, hoping that I would get some kind of signal she wanted me to join her. However, when I started to follow her to her room, she turned around, smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Your room is down that way.”
I reluctantly went in the direction she pointed. During the night, I heard intermittent fits of rain on the roof. I hoped that the Kid was keeping dry at Lucky’s campsite. I thought about Felicity and hoped that she was thinking about me.
> CHAPTER 25
ANOTHER VISIT TO BELL CITY
I came downstairs around a quarter to eight the next morning and walked into the dining room. The mess from last night had been cleaned up. The dining room was empty, so I went into the kitchen. Felicity was at the sink with her back to me, cleaning the last of the previous night’s dishes.
