Found Dead in the Red Head

by Violet Patton

  “Wanna volunteer?” I smiled a bit, even though Myra paid well, she gets on his nerves.

  “Ah, no thanks. I’m not going anywhere near Myra’s house. Last time I went out there she made me clean the gutters.” He grinned, giving me another heartbreaker sparkly eyed gaze. “This ol’ copper don’t do gutters.”

  “Let’s catch up this afternoon. We’ll know more news by then.”

  “Okay. Later, girlfriend.” He bumped out the door, letting it slam heavily. I jumped, not because he let the door slam but because he used the affectionate term girlfriend.

  Chapter 7

  Marvell

  “Mornin’,” Sandy said, putting down a shopping bag. “Oh good, you got coffee.”

  I had already finished four gift boxes and made a list of tasks for Etta to accomplish this afternoon.

  “Yeah. Better zap a cup. Probably cold by now.”

  She found a cup, wiped it out with a paper towel, filled and heated coffee in the microwave. She grabbed a donut and sank into the loveseat.

  I waited, giving her time before I told her the bad news.

  “I didn’t clean the crock pot last night. Bet the cider’s yucky this morning.” I left the unread newspaper on the sofa, and she scanned its headlines.

  “I’ve been busy. I haven’t been in the showroom yet. The soaps need to be replenished. Bath bomb bins filled.”

  “Uh-huh. You know what I heard?”

  Midair, I paused with holding a handful of crinkled filler over a box. I wasn’t ready for more bad news. “Is it good?”

  “I’d say so.” From the angle she sat, I saw her eyeballs move as she read the paper.

  “What? Just tell me.” I had no patience for guessing games.

  “Actually, Marvell Minton called me this morning.” She hunched her shoulders in a silent chuckle. “Surprised the hell out of me.”

  “What? You don’t say?”

  Marvell was our main competitor on Central Avenue, and she turned pea green with envy when we opened the shop. Situated in our prime location, the Row sets across the street from the promenade and kitty-cornered from the Arlington Hotel. Every tourist who tours Central Avenue will walk past our shop.

  “She did? What on earth does she want?”

  “She’s getting married.” She continued to read nonchalantly. “Says her new husband wants her to move to Florida. She asked if we wanted to buy what’s left of her inventory after Christmas.”

  “That’s surprising.” Who knew Marvell was in the market for a husband? She adored her soap shop, but she helped spread nasty rumors about our poisoned bath bombs. Our disastrous first weekend, tickled her pink, and now she wants to sellout and move to Florida?

  “Guess that’s love for you? What d’you tell her?” I sloshed filler into next the box.

  “I kinda laughed too loud. It was funny after the way she acted during our remodel?”

  Marvell’s spies had moxy cupping their hands on the front window peering into it.

  She tittered again and folded the newspaper. “I told her our soaps were custom made and hers wouldn’t work with our inventory.”

  I grinned, letting her humored smile lift my spirits. “Well, you go, girl.”

  “She got flustered. Huffy. Hung up. You know what? I think she’s lying. I bet we’ve put such a dent in her business, she can’t stay open. Her shop’s in a high-rent district.”

  “You might be right.” Myra gave us a big discount on our two-year lease. After the luxury condos Myra planned are built, bowling alley renovations finished and the pizza parlor’s ovens run but the gas bill, she might be so broke, she’ll raise our rent.

  “She’s shouldn’t act so high and mighty. Sending spies to spy on us. Pfft.” She stood and drained her coffee cup. “Brrr. It’s still cold in here. Better get to work.”

  “Ah, before you do. There’s something else I need to tell you.”

  Sandy would not take this well, and no amount of sugar-coating would help, so I blurted the facts instead of making it easier. “Belly’s been arrested. Possible murder.”

  She stopped short of going in the room and turned back. Tears welled in her eyes, and she flushed.

  “No! Not our Belly?” She and Belly hadn’t gotten along well during the bathtub moving fiasco, and now she’s claiming him as her own.

  "Who… who did he kill? My goodness gracious… this is… terrible.” Her hands landed on her hips, she tsked and tapped a toe. All three actions meant she was deeply disturbed.

  “Anita heard it on her scanner.” I nodded in the general direction of our condo complex. “Teddy stopped by this morning.” Then nodded at the backdoor. “And confirmed the rumor.”

  “Murder? I can’t understand that. It doesn’t make sense.” She paced in front of the workbench.

  In the next box, I arranged bath bombs around a polishing lotion and salt scrub.

  “I dunno. It’s weird. That’s for sure.” I can’t mention my conversation with Belly. She’d fire off questions until I blabbed what I knew. “Sounds fishy to me.”

  She paced but at the swinging doors, she stopped and gazed over them.“What’d he say?”

  “Not much. Said he listen around town. Find out the rumors.”

  “Aren’t you going to the police station?”

  “Ah, no. Why would I?” Belly probably made bond and was far away from the police station.

  “You know everyone there. Thought you’d go snoop around.”

  I rolled my eyes. “The police station isn’t a zoo where you can gawk at the inmates. Bad stuff happens there.”

  “I know. I know. I sure hope it’s all a big misunderstanding.”

  “Me too.”

  On the wall beside the swinging doors, she flipped on the showroom light switch going in.

  “Good grief, this place is a disaster. I can’t wait for Etta to get here. What time is she coming?”

  Every day she asks what time Etta was coming to work, and I tell her the same thing. “Her usual time.”

  She walked in carrying the crock pot. “This old thing. Wish it’d die like the Mr. Coffee.”

  Finishing another box, I asked, “You thought anymore about delivery?”

  “No way. I was just buttering up Myra… though, we could deliver hers. Oh my, have you checked the website for orders?” She rinsed the pot in the sink and left it soaking, going back to the front counter.

  “No… I’ve been too busy.” We were making small talk avoiding talking about the murder in the room.

  She muttered from the front counter, fussing and squirreling with the tablet. “Eek! Ten more orders?”

  Fanny shrieked. “Eek! Ten more orders!” She flickered into sight throwing her hands in the air imitating Sandy’s flabbergasted outburst perfectly.

  “Stop it. Don’t make me laugh.” I loved it when she imitated Sandy. She had a way of smoothing my ruffled feathers. I lowered my voice asking, “Where have you been?”

  “Snooping about. Visiting with the new dead guy?”

  My chin buckled. “Pish. You can do that?”

  “Sure. Sometimes, they pass straight through and I miss them. Some, I don’t care about, but Mr. Belly was kinda cute, so I asked around.”

  “What? Don’t you mean… did you see the new dead person?” Speaking so callously wasn’t nice, but how else do you ask a ghost if they’ve seen another ghost?

  “See who?” She flickered looking over the swinging doors, but turned back quickly. “I saw him. It wasn’t a young fellow.”

  “The guy Belly killed, if he killed someone?” I still can’t believe he was involved in such a crime.

  “Maybe. There was a younger guy. But you gotta understand. Once people are dead, we don’t ask what happened. Dead’s dead. Talking about it don’t change the matter.”

  That sounded logical. Why rehash your own murder or even natural death? The outcome was always the same.

  “He’ll move on quick. Go to the Beyond. Unless he’s left a stone un
turned. He could hunt for his murderer.”

  She shrugged, but I caught her hint about finding her own killer. “I’m confused. You say it wasn’t a young person?”

  Fanny faded into her moody grayscale. “The new dead is Mr. Belly. The one with the suspenders.”

  “That’s not funny. Don’t joke.” She faded completely, but paced fluttering crinkle cut filler I spilled.

  “Are you talking to yourself again?” Sandy snapped, cutting into my thoughts. Fanny had to be wrong about visiting with Belly and was mixed up.

  Cutting a length of ribbon to finish, I said, “Yes. I can’t get my head around the problem with Belly. I’m so confused. I need more information.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s very disconcerting. Who could we ask?”

  I secured the ribbon with a Row sticker. “I dunno. Teddy was my best option. He didn’t have enough details. He just heard himself.”

  “Point taken. Guess we’ll just have to wait. Where d’you put the cake plates that were on the front table?” Before our open house, we moved the cake plates holding our soaps off one table to use for the refreshments.

  “They’re under the table, remember?” We draped a red tablecloth over the newly lacquered tabletop to protect it from spills. “Look under the tablecloth.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember now.” She grabbed two bulk boxes of soap off the shelves behind the workbench. “We’re nearly out of some soaps. Better order more.”

  She was talking to herself because she did all the ordering. Cheerfully, humming under her breath, she carried the boxes back into the showroom.

  Fanny reappeared, flickering in muted colors, playing her regular game of musical doors leaving the room Sandy occupied. She stopped and stared over the swinging doors. “First customer of the day standing on the stoop.”

  “She’s unlocking the door.” Fanny’s colors faded more. “Gahd! That woman’s a bum. Dirty little waif if I ever saw one.”

  The doorbell tinkled and Sandy greeted the customer, but I couldn’t hear what she said. She murmured again, and the person replied in a lower tone. Fanny flickered more moodily, flashing blue colors and struck a cautionary gold flash.

  When something scares her, it scares me.

  “What’s up?” I wiped my hands on a paper towel and headed for the doors. Fanny went into the showroom, and I peered them.

  Sandy interacted with the odd-looking woman but backed up, shaking her head. Fanny moved nearer circling, preparing to stab the waif with her glowing sewing needle.

  Good grief! That’s the girl hitchhiker I saw early this morning. Sandy turned, her pallor worse than it was last night after she drank brandy, and she high-stepped toward me. “Pattianna, you better get out here.”

  Chapter 8

  Stinker

  I wasn’t sure what to make of her—odd that she’d enter the Row. Was she asking for handouts here when the avenue had many restaurants?

  Fanny whispered, circling looking her up and down. “Gahd. She’s a stinker.”

  “Hush, don’t say that.” I blurted taking my time, easing toward Sandy and the girl.

  Sandy grabbed my elbow, pulling me along. “You hush. I didn’t say anything. Listen, that creature says she’s your…”

  The girl asked one word. “Mom?”

  “Ally?” Trembling, I tripped, slowly recognizing who stood in the Row’s open door.

  This homeless looking bum wearing greasy dreadlocks, dressed like a who knows what, stinking to high heaven, was my daughter? I opened my arms and she stepped into them sobbing.

  Overcome, I managed to ask. “Why haven’t you answered my calls? Why didn’t you call?”

  I held tight and she whispered into my neck. “Mom. I couldn’t call. Jason busted my phone. Couldn’t remember your number.”

  Between sobs, I hugged her more, saying, “Saw you hitchhiking this morning, I didn’t pick you up.

  Behind us, Sandy sniffled. “Well darn! I can no more believe this than the man in the moon. You look half frozen. I’ll heat coffee.”

  Tearing up again, I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “If I wake from this nightmare, and you’re not here, it’s gonna be bad.”

  Her timing wasn’t perfect, I wanted her home no matter the time, date or want other tragedy struck my life.

  She cradled her face in my neck and this time she sobbed. “It’s gonna be okay. I made a mistake. I’m home now.”

  Fanny stepped back glimmering in glorious Technicolor glee. “She’s a keeper, ain’t she?”

  She tamped down her flashing colors, retreating into the window, giving us space.

  “Yes, I’ll never let her go again.”

  Ally pushed back. “Mom. I need… to show you something.”

  I gathered my will, knowing I must let her go and stepped back a few inches. Her thin face was strikingly beautiful, and I grabbed her chin between my fingers and kissed both cheeks.

  “It’ll wait.”

  Sandy walked in carrying a steaming cup of microwaved coffee. “Here. Let’s get you into the backroom. Warm you up.” She stopped, cocked her head and put up a finger. “Listen. I hear a cat meowing. Do you hear it?”

  She clucked, handed me the mug and shut the front door. “It’s cold enough to freeze a well-digger’s… there it is again. I don’t want stray cat pee on our sidewalk.”

  “Mom. I have to show you now.” Gently, Ally stepped back.

  “Okay. What is it?” I sighed, gazing at the sight of my long-lost child. She took off the backpacks, peeled off several layers of clothing dropping them onto the floor.

  Sandy muttered. “We’re gonna have to put those in the dumpster.”

  When Ally got to the last layer, a wrapped scarf of sorts, she stopped undressing.

  “Mom. Please hold out your arms.”

  “Oh pooh, you didn’t need to bring gifts. This is silly.” I shook my head,

  Sandy stepped back watching her performance. “There’s that cat again. First, we had bees, now we have a cat.”

  Fanny flickered from the display window, circling us, hissing like a boiling teakettle.

  “Heee! Heee! It’s a wee one.”

  I glanced at Fanny, shaking my head. “Not now. Don’t make trouble.”

  “Sorry, Mom, I can’t wait.” She untied the last scarf.

  “Whatever.” I held out my arms, and she laid a bundle in them. “Mama, meet Allison Ann Walker.”

  Sandy shrieked. Laughing like a drunk hyena she circled with Fanny, crying. “Oh! My goodness gracious. I can’t believe it. I don’t believe it.”

  Fanny hopped along beside Sandy hissing like a teakettle.

  My mind boggled, and I couldn’t get a breath. Sandy’s shrieks and Fanny’s colors were too much to take in and absorb that my long-lost daughter just handed me—my granddaughter.

  “Oh… oh… oh….”

  My feet rested on the back of the loveseat, and I was wrapped in the dingy afghan when I came too. Sandy stood over me, breathing in my face.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I must’ve dozed off.”

  “Ah no, no you didn’t. You passed out. We had to drag you in here.”

  “I did?” I remember Fanny flickering brightly. I knew Anita sent a message about Belly, after that things were foggy.

  “Why?”

  Sandy snickered. “You passed out because of Allison Ann. Too much fright all in one minute. I ‘bout fell over too. Surprised the daylights outta me.”

  Now my thoughts were clearing. “Walker?”

  “Mom. I’m sorry I scared you so bad. I had no idea you’d pass out.” Ally sat on the sofa by my feet. “That’s right. Allison Ann Walker. Your granddaughter.”

  The fog lifted, but heat rose up my chest and I fanned my hot face with one hand.

  “I’m not well.” Closing my eyes, I tried to head off another woozy attack. “I’ve hit my head again, haven’t? I’m hearing things.”

  She leaned over, patting my leg. “Mom. It’s me. Snap out of it
.”

  Was it true? Ally had returned, exactly as I wished on the star in the clearing night sky.

  “No, you aren’t. My daughter doesn’t wear dreadlocks. You’re trying to pull a fast one on me… us.”

  “Dang, she’s worse off than I thought. She’s hallucinating.” Sandy huffed, standing over me and checking my pulse.

  “Stop that!” I snapped my wrist from Sandy’s cold grip.

  “Good grief, Mom. Why would I do that?” She snorted. “Dreadlocks aren’t anything.”

  “Drink this. You’re always dehydrated.” Sandy stuck an open bottled water in my face.

  “Thanks.” I struggled up onto an elbow to sip water.

  How did Ally pull off this situation? Why hadn’t she bothered to share her pregnancy with me? Does Walker know? What about Belly? If he knew last night, wouldn’t he share the news?

  Mulling, I couldn’t grasp her reason for secrecy. Did she fear my opinion? Was I that difficult?

  Sandy snapped. “It’s a good thing you came around, I was calling paramedics.”

  I pulled my legs off the back of the loveseat and sat up. “No. No medical. I’m fine.”

  On the end of the sofa, Fanny flickered, practically sitting in Ally’s lap. She dropped one arm around them, gazing into the baby’s face as Ally nursed her.

  “She’s two-weeks old today.” Ally smiled, holding the baby tight.

  “Why? How? Did you tell…?” How could she have Walker’s child, she’s been gone for what felt like years?

  “No, I didn’t tell him. He doesn’t care, but Jason did. He cared so much that when he added things up, he figured out Allison wasn’t his baby. He dumped me in Little Rock in the snow.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, but I was thrilled the baby was Walker’s, no matter the circumstances.

  Fanny poked with her needle. “I’m gonna get him. Where’s that bloke?”

  “Hush. You can’t do anything about him. Don’t get any fancy ideas.” I couldn’t tell if Fanny meant Walker or Jason, but the thought of her pricking either boy did lift my spirits.

  She leaned her head back. “I’m so tired. I don’t have any fancy ideas. I wanted to be with you. I had to come home.” She pulled the sleeping baby off her breast and rearranged her clothing.