Miss Pettybone's First Case

by Melissa Rees

  She popped the tab and walked into the room, then came to an abrupt stop, as fifteen set of eyes stared at her.

  "What?" she asked.

  "What do you mean what? You found a murdered man. We need facts." Ann said.

  Miss Pettybone grabbed her trays and hauled them to the table. "I don't know that much."

  "So, tell us what you do know." Ann demanded.

  Miss Pettybone quickly sorting her mail and thought for a couple of seconds. "Well, when I got to his house yesterday it was eerily quiet." She began. "It felt funny, you know."

  Fifteen people nodded their heads.

  "So, after pounding on the door for a few minutes, I looked into the kitchen window. The only thing moving in the kitchen was some flies and ants that were crawling over all the dirty dishes he had stacked in the sink."

  She paused to take a drink of cola, and then continued. "I knew something was wrong. I felt it. So I opened the kitchen door and walked in."

  Someone gasped loudly. Miss Pettybone smiled at the reaction. "Well, I couldn't see anything wrong in the kitchen, so I headed for the front of the house."

  Miss Pettybone leaned against the table. "The living room was filthy. Dirty dishes and empty liquor bottles lay everywhere. But still no sign of Warren Jones. So I started down the hall and opened the first door on the right, which happened to be a really icky bathroom, I might add. I closed the door, mostly because of the smell, and walked to the door on the left."

  Her face serious, she continued. "I opened the door and at the foot of the bed lay Warren Jones, his hands bound together behind his back." She stopped long enough to take another drink, and looked around. You could have heard a pin drop, the room was so quiet. "So, I slammed the door shut. I was so shocked, you see?"

  heads bobbed up and down.

  All "Then I realized that I should go in and make sure he didn't need any help. So I walked in and bent down to look, and well, half of his face had been blown away." She finished solemnly.

  "Weren't you scared?" Holly asked, in awe of someone who had seen a murdered man.

  "No, not really." Miss Pettybone admitted.

  "But weren't you scared that whoever killed him was still around?" Ann asked.

  "No, not at all. I never even gave that a thought." She answered, picking up her mail and putting it in her basket. Giving everyone a cheerful goodbye, she pushed her basket towards the door and outside to her truck.

  She stacked the mail in her truck and jumped in, excited about the new day.

  ***

  Miss Pettybone pulled her mail truck into a parking space in front of the small cafe, then got out and dusted herself off. One o'clock. She had an hour for lunch and she was hungry.

  Although she enjoyed a cold Diet Pepsi first thing in the morning, she did not eat breakfast. So by one o'clock she was starving.

  She walked onto the front porch of the cafe and glanced around. The cafe had been built in the thirties and had four wide windows facing the street. The porch, painted gray, showed the wear and tear of many feet over the years. The porch had a railing across the front with steps leading in three different directions into the parking lots. Two old wall lights lined a single door that looked as used as it was.

  She reached out to pull the café’s front door open and felt the cold blast of air conditioning wash over her. Pausing beside the door, she let her eyes adjust to the inside of the building.

  The last time the small cafe had been redecorated had been in the mid-fifties. Now forty-five years later, its red vinyl booths and tables and chairs had seen better days. Some of the red booths had been patched with silver duct tape and were colored with a red marker to try and disguise the tape. And if anyone bothered to look close enough, they would see slight edges of stuffing struggling free from the padding on stools that sat sentry at the breakfast bar.

  The tables and chairs that were positioned in the middle of the crowded room were mismatched and tired looking. Jewel joked that some considered the interior of her cafe shabby chic.

  But the place was kept meticulously clean and the food was delicious, so the cafe usually did a brisk business with the hungry folks around Beatty.

  She spotted Lynn and Billie June in a corner booth, walked over and slipped in beside Billie June.

  What's the lunch special?"

  "Catfish and fries." Lynn said, signaling to the waitress.

  "Sounds good." Miss Pettybone said, taking a sip from the glass of cold water that sat in front of Lynn.

  Jewel took a deep breath when she paused beside the booth. "It’s been crazy in here today. I think everybody in town has come in to hear about the murder. Minnie is busy with Jake and his farmers club, so I'm waiting on you girls today. What are you in the mood for?"

  "I’ll have the special." Miss Pettybone decided. "And a Diet Pepsi."

  "Since you have never ordered anything besides Diet Pepsi, I always take that as a given." Jewel joked, writing the order quickly on the pad that lay in front of her.

  "I’ll have the special to and a glass of tea." Lynn said, putting the menu back behind the napkin holder.

  "What about you?" Jewel asked, looking at Billie June.

  "I think I’ll have the country fried steak with a glass of milk."

  "Milk?" Lynn teased, throwing Billie June a good-nature glance. "It’s hotter than Hades outside and you're drinking milk."

  "Some of us don't want our stomachs rusted out by acid." Billie June answered, sliding a glance at Miss Pettybone, before primly putting away her menu.

  "In case that remark is aimed at me, I have to say that I've been drinking Diet Pepsi for years and never had any rust problems with my stomach." Miss Pettybone said, pushing her menu behind the napkin holder.

  "It'll catch up with you some day." Billie June promised. "And I only hope I'm there to say I told you so."

  "I hope you have the good sense to stay away from me if my stomach turns up rusty, Billie June." Miss Pettybone said, weary of the same argument she had had with Billie June a hundred times before.

  Miss Pettybone didn't hate milk; she just had never much liked it much. She did sometimes drink a small glass of milk at night. She considered that her token calcium fight against osteoporosis.

  "So have you all heard anything about the murder?" She asked, glancing at Lynn, deciding to ignore Billie June.

  "I heard they couldn't identify him. The sheriff thinks maybe Warren Jones might not be his real name." Lynn offered.

  "Why does he think that?" Miss Pettybone asked.

  "The only thing he had in his pocket was an empty billfold." Lynn said.

  "No license or social security cards?" Miss Pettybone asked, as she picked up the soda that Jewel had sat down in front of her.

  "Nothing."

  "What about the registration on the car?"

  "Gone."

  "Did they trace the registered letter?"

  "Traced it to New York. Looks like whoever mailed the letter didn't use their real names."

  "I didn't know you could mail a registered letter without an ID." Billie June said, taking a sip of her milk.

  Lynn threw Billie June a disgusted look and paused to scold her. "Billie June, you've worked at the post office for five years and you still don't know what your doing." Shaking her head, she continued. "The sheriff said that he and his deputies couldn't find one personal thing about Warren Jones in the house or his car."

  "Did the sheriff say what was in the letter?"

  Lynn narrowed her eyes at her friend's eager interest and said. "Yes, as a matter of fact he did."

  "And?"

  "Loraine, I don't know if I should tell you."

  "Why not?" She demanded.

  "Because I know what you're thinking. You are interested in investigating this murder."

  "Fine, don’t tell me." Miss Pettybone said, a little annoyed.

  Lynn sipped her water and finally relented. "The only thing in the envelope was a cashier's check for five thousand d
ollars. At least that's what Dwight said."

  Miss Pettybone paused a moment to think, then glanced over at Lynn. "What about the VIN number on the car?" She asked.

  "Filed off."

  "Darn." Miss Pettybone said, moving her soda aside so Jewel could put her plate of catfish in front of her.

  "The sheriff said they were in the process of checking for fingerprints."

  "When did you see the sheriff?" Miss Pettybone asked, picking up a fork.

  "He came by to talk to you first thing this morning."

  "Me? Why did he want to talk to me?"

  "To tell you to stay away from the murder scene."

  "He actually came to the post office, to warn me away from that house."

  "Yes, he actually came to tell you to stay away from that house."

  "That's crazy. He doesn't have any right to tell me what to do."

  "It’s not crazy. He's just concerned about your being so nosy."

  “I’m not nosy."

  "Loraine Pettybone, you are, without a doubt, the nosiest person I know."

  "That's a pretty horrible thing to say about a friend." Miss Pettybone pointed out.

  “I’m not trying to hurt your feeling but you're nosy. Look how you found the dead body. You trespassed into someone's home."

  "Good thing I did."

  "True." Lynn agreed, taking a bite of catfish.

  "I think I can solve the murder if I put my brain to working on it." Miss Pettybone said.

  "See, that's exactly what Dwight was afraid of." Lynn pointed out.

  Irritated, Miss Pettybone asked. "Did you ever think I might have an aptitude as an investigator?"

  "What aptitude might that be?" Lynn inquired.

  "Deductive reasoning?"

  "Deductive reasoning." Lynn repeated. "And what makes you think you have deductive reasoning."

  "Who finds every single thing that gets lost at work?"

  "Finding a package that has been misplaced is totally different from solving a murder."

  "I don't see why you say that. You use deductive reasoning in both instances."

  "Loraine, the sheriff said for you to butt out and I do believe he meant it."

  "Dwight will never know what I'm doing. He'll be way too busy to worry about what I'm up to." Miss Pettybone replied hotly.

  "It’s the day after finding the murdered man, Loraine, and he made time to come and see you."

  "Lynn, this is still a free country, no thanks to you and Dwight. I’ll do what I please."

  "You don't have to get mad. He's just worried you'll get hurt."

  Exasperated at Lynn, Miss Pettybone spotted Mildred Bartlett across the room.

  Giving her a wave, she went back to eating, and then looked up. “I’m not stupid and I'm not going to get hurt."

  "I don't see why you like that Mildred Bartlett. She's always wearing such daring clothes, even in the middle of the day." Billie June remarked, leaning towards Miss Pettybone.

  Miss Pettybone frowned at Billie June's tone and looked over at Mildred. "You don't like her?"

  "No one likes her. I mean, no women like her."

  "Well I like her. I think she's interesting." Miss Pettybone said, pushing her plate back.

  "Of course she's interesting." Billie June snapped. "Look at the way she presents herself. She colors her hair bright red. She dresses like she is sixteen with short skirts and low tops. She devours men. You know Louise Baker?" Billie June whispered.

  "The librarian?" Miss Pettybone questioned.

  "Well, she's retired now, but she’s been hanging around with Mildred. I heard that they went to Las Vegas lately and Louise went completely wild."

  "Give me a break, Billie June." Miss Pettybone said exasperated. "How wild do you think a seventy-eight year-old gray-haired Presbyterian with a hip replacement can get?"

  "I heard she danced on the table at a Wayne Newton concert." Billie June whispered.

  Miss Pettybone laughed and pushed herself out of the booth. "Good for her. Maybe she'll have some fun before she goes."

  "Loraine." Billie June gasped. "She's seventy-eight years old. She's a grandmother, for crying out loud."

  "Which is my point, Billie June. I hope she has fun before she dies. You should probably think about the fun stuff, yourself." Miss Pettybone suggested. “I’m going back to work. See you all around five-thirty."

  Chapter 11

  Inside the hot car, Lynn slipped her sunglasses on and started the engine. Shifting into drive, she heard the first sniffle from across the seat. Sucking in her breath, she leaned forward and turned the radio on.

  Adjusting the volume, she leaned back and darted a glance at her passenger. When she heard the second sniffle, she started humming softly along with the music, determined not to be drawn into Billie June's suffering.

  She groaned when she heard the small sob, then leaned in and turned the radio off. Glancing at her friend, she sighed. "She didn't mean to be rude, Billie June."

  "She's always rude." Billie June wailed.

  "She's not always rude."

  "She is to me."

  "Well sugar, you ask for it sometimes."

  "What did I say? That I like milk? What's so all fired wrong with liking milk?"

  "You never just order milk. You are always telling Loraine that her stomach will rust when she drinks Diet Pepsi."

  "Because it's true."

  "It’s not true. You have never had one tiny bit of evidence to back that statement up."

  "I just know, that's all." Billie June replied stubbornly, glancing at her boss.

  "Billie June, you know very well that Loraine loves Diet Pepsi. Why can't you just accept that fact and leave it alone?"

  "Because it's bad for her. Besides that, I don't understand how she can like Mildred Bartlett. That woman is the town's senior Lolita."

  Lynn shrugged her shoulders before turning into the parking lot at the Post Office. "I don't particularly like Mildred. But Loraine is entitled to be friends with whoever she wants, Billie June. And another thing, since we're talking, I've been a little worried about you. I think you should have more fun in your own life. Maybe you wouldn't be so concerned about Loraine if you got out more, kicked your heels up a little."

  Lynn thought about what she said, and added. "I mean, you should kick up your heels in a good Christian way."

  Tears flowed down Billie June's reddened cheeks. "Well, you both are wrong about me. I have lots of fun. I go to Church twice a week. I enjoy my boys. And every other Friday, Teddy and I eat at the VFW." She pushed the car door open as soon as Lynn parked and scooted out. "And you always take her side, always."

  Lynn stepped out and looked at Billie June over the top of her car. "I don't always take her side, Billie June. But you know very well that Loraine and I have been best friends for over thirty-years. I know how she thinks. She would never hurt your feeling on purpose. Truthfully, I think she's nicer to you then I would be."

  Billie June turned tear stained eyes in her bosses direction. “What do you mean?"

  "Billie June, you're always riding Loraine about something. And don't get me wrong, I understand that you only have the best intentions for her. But you truly need to leave the Diet Pepsi thing alone. She is never going to give that up."

  Stunned by Lynn's words and advice, Billie June stared at her, gave a loud sob, then scurried away.

  Lynn watched as Billie June bolted for the back door. Sighing, she gathered her purse and walked slowly in behind her employee.

  ***

  Miss Pettybone turned on the small fan that was attached to a rotating mount above the steering wheel. She felt the hot air blow against her damp skin and thought about the sheriff.

  Dwight was out of line. He had no business talking to Lynn about her. Lynn was her friend, but even she knew enough not to tell her what she could and could not.

  Miss Pettybone absolutely drew the line at being bossed around for any reason. And if this investigating business was
something she wanted to pursue, she would do so. But to arbitrarily say she wasn't allowed to do something always put her back up and he knew it.

  Besides, she genuinely believed she could figure out who murdered Warren Jones if she had the chance. She hadn't read all those murder mystery books for nothing. And she seriously doubted another murder would ever occur on her route.

  She had decided the night before she should go for it. What did she have to lose?

  She leaned back against the hot seat and thought about Warren Jones. It just didn't make sense that he had absolutely no identification on him. She turned the key and felt the small engine spring to life. She tapped the steering wheel and considered what she would do if she wanted to remain incognito. She might not keep the information on her but she would squirrel it away close by.

  He probably would have done the same thing. That would mean that his identification information was more than likely stashed in the house somewhere.

  Maybe in the kitchen cabinets or underneath a floor board. She was sure that Dwight searched the place but she didn't see Zeb being over enthusiastic about him taking the house apart. The information was there, she just knew it. And she was determined to find it.

  ***

  The house had an abandoned feeling surrounding it when she pulled into the driveway at five o'clock that afternoon. Parking the truck behind the house, she climbed out and stretched. She thought parking her mail truck out of sight was prudent considering the sheriff's temperament. No point in aggravating him unnecessarily.

  The police had already removed Warren Jones car and tire tracks were the only thing left in the small dusty carport.

  Miss Pettybone gazed around the house and thought how absolutely still abandoned buildings felt.

  She glanced around. Not even bees or butterflies ventured out into the hot sunlight this afternoon. Darn heat, it was almost hot enough to rain. She looked up at the sky. But only light blue sky and white cumulus clouds could be seen for miles.

  She noticed the yellow sagging strips were sill surrounding the house and wondered just how long the sheriff intended to keep them up.

  She peeled away her damp shirt from her back and walked into the shade of the carport.