Murder Welcomes You to Buxley

by Maddie Cochere

  We easily won the first two games. The Dependers had to run to the restroom before rolling the third. I waited in the bowling circle for them to come back, and I had to admit the evening wasn’t anything like I had envisioned. I was having a good time.

  Aunt Bee was first to come back. She sat down beside me and said, “I hear Keith saw Johnny Wyler this morning.”

  I should have known Pepper would tell everyone about Keith’s adventure with me. By now, Dana probably already knew that Keith thought he had seen her son. I would have to call her tomorrow to let her know Johnny could very well be in Patterson.

  “He says he did, but it’s still like finding a needle in a haystack. Johnny hasn’t left a trail of any kind. All of his friends at school say he stopped seeing them about two months ago.”

  “Have you talked with his girlfriend, Stacy? You know, she works here.”

  “She does? I was under the impression they broke up.”

  “They were making out in his car shortly after noon two weeks ago in front of the hardware store. They completely ignored me when I put a ticket on the windshield for the expired meter.”

  Because he was a senior, Johnny was allowed to leave the school grounds during lunch. Stacy had obviously lied to his mother about seeing him.

  I glanced around. “Where’s she working?”

  “In the snack bar.”

  The snack bar was at the other end of the alley. I passed Mama and Rita on my way.

  “Bring me back a hot dog and fries,” Mama called after me.

  I ignored her.

  There were three girls behind the counter. I was surprised to see the girl with the goth look was the one wearing a Stacy name tag. She didn’t fit my preconceived notion of the type of girl I thought Johnny would date.

  I stood to the side and waited until she finished with a customer.

  “Stacy, I’m Jo Ravens. I’m Dana Wyler’s neighbor. She’s really worried about Johnny. Do you know where he might be?”

  She instantly became guarded. I didn’t know if anyone had talked with her other than Johnny’s mother, and she seemed suspicious of me.

  “I work with Arnold Barnaski. He’s a private investigator. Dana’s hired us to find Johnny. If you can tell me anything that would help, I’d appreciate it.”

  One of the other girls behind the counter encouraged her, “Go ahead and talk to her. I’ll cover for you.”

  I waited for her to come around the counter, and we walked down to my lane.

  “You’re up,” Mama yelled as we neared.

  Stacy sat at the table above our circle. I ran down, threw my ball, and ran back up to sit with her.

  “What do you know?” I asked her.

  “That’s just it,” she said. “I don’t know anything. I saw him a week ago Friday night. We went to the movies, and I thought everything was fine. We were supposed to go to a party the next night, but he never showed up. He hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

  “When did you find out he took off?”

  “He wasn’t at school that Monday. His mom called me Monday night and asked if I’d seen him. She said he left Saturday and never came back. I’m worried something bad has happened to him.”

  “You’re up!” Mama yelled.

  I ran down, threw my ball, and ran back up to Stacy.

  It went that way for the next half hour. Mama yelling, “You’re up,” and me dashing back and forth while Stacy told me about Johnny and their relationship. They met when he literally ran into her in the hallway at school and knocked her books out of her arms. She said it was love at first sight. She hadn’t noticed any changes in him, and said nothing was wrong until he didn’t show up for their date.

  One of the Geriatric Grannies walked up to me and asked, “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

  Mama bolted up the stairs and grabbed the woman by the arm. “Shut up, Janice! I know what you’re doing. You might as well be cheating.”

  I had no idea what they were talking about.

  The woman refused to be quiet. “Do you know how many strikes you’ve thrown?”

  Mama held a fist up in front of the woman’s face. “I can take you out. You know I can.”

  I looked at the score sheet projected on the wall above the alley. I had been so engrossed in talking with Stacy, I didn’t realize I had just bowled seven strikes in a row. This was going to be my highest score ever. Could I keep it going for a perfect three hundred score?

  I felt jittery when I picked up my ball for the eighth frame. Now I understood why Mama was so mad. She knew once I realized I was working on a perfect game, I would be too nervous to continue throwing strikes.

  I took a deep breath, held the ball in position in front of me, and took off. I threw the ball. It felt perfect. A loud buzzer sounded, the ball went into the pocket, and the pins exploded for a strike.

  I had held my position as I watched the ball roll down the lane. I looked down now and saw my foot was over the fault line by an inch. Mama’s baby powder had poof-poofed out enough that the wood was finely coated and caused me to slide farther than I intended.

  I turned around and burst into laughter at the look on Mama’s face. She was completely flabbergasted I had fouled. Fouls were for amateurs.

  She was only mildly apologetic when play had to be stopped for one of the alley workers to come over and sweep powder from our two lanes. The last thing they needed was for one of the Geriatric Grannies to slip on Mama’s powder, fall, and break a hip.

  Stacy and I finished our conversation about Johnny, but I felt I didn’t have anything more to help me than when we first sat down.

  My final score on the third game was two hundred forty-five, which was not too shabby for someone who hadn’t bowled in over a year. Mama’s number was pulled for the five hundred dollar tip board pot, resulting in another high kick, a fist pump, and a loud “booyah!”

  The only bad part of the evening was going out into the bitter cold and waiting in the car for it to warm up before heading home.

  An hour later, I was showered, comfy in flannel pajamas and slippers, and sipping a cup of hot cocoa as I sat on the love seat in the murder room and contemplated the whiteboard.

  After coming home from the flea market earlier today, I had spent a couple of hours searching newspaper archives from Patterson, Buxley, and surrounding towns. I was shocked at the number of stolen vehicles reported. The average amongst all locations combined was four per day. Buxley fared better than most with only one car every two days. The uptick in Patterson over the last month was to six per day.

  I stared at Curt Hendershot’s section of the board. It was frustrating not knowing how to go about finding a stolen car. Who steals cars? Where do they go? How would you title a stolen car and resell it?

  And what did Curt have in the car that was incriminating? Maybe it was proof of his bending the rules for some people in town while discriminating against others. Once again, I felt as though I didn’t really care if he got his car back or not, but it was a paying job, and as he wouldn’t reduce my mortgage payment, he may as well make a few of them.

  Johnny Wyler’s space was still uncomfortably bare. Stacy hadn’t given me anything other than their dating history and that he hadn’t shown up for their date a week ago Saturday.

  My eyes moved to the final space on the board. I had added the Lisa Graham case of her potentially cheating husband before leaving for the bowling alley. George Graham owned his own realty company. According to her, he had always worked evenings, but they had begun to extend beyond midnight. Occasionally, she smelled perfume that wasn’t hers on his clothing. He started keeping his cell phone locked in his briefcase. Before she accused him, she wanted proof. They had plans to go out for a romantic dinner for Valentine’s Day, and she wanted to know ahead of time if he was still faithful.

  It was after midnight when I went to bed. I turned the alarm clock off. One of the perks of working my own hours was sleeping in, and after Curt Hendershot’s r
ude awakening this morning, I could certainly use an extra hour or two of sleep.

  Chapter Four

  If that was Curt Hendershot banging on my front door, I was going to kill him and arrange for another of his cars to be stolen.

  It was seven thirty, and I could feel my blood beginning to boil as I pulled on my robe and shoved my feet into my slippers. I couldn’t have been clearer with Curt yesterday that he should call or show up at the flea market when he wanted to talk with me.

  The banging on the door escalated. I was fuming as I jerked it open. Mama rushed in, dragging a huge blast of cold air with her.

  I was speechless.

  “Morning, Jo. I came to pick up Lucille’s shirt.”

  I could barely find words and ended up spluttering, “I was sleeping. Couldn’t you wait for me to bring it back?”

  “We’re practicing this morning. I want to wash the shirt before giving it back to her.”

  I didn’t want to start an argument. I trudged up the stairs, grabbed the bowling shirt out of the hamper and trudged back down. I tossed the shirt to her.

  “You don’t need to wear your shirt for practice,” I muttered.

  “We’re leading the league right now. We want everyone to know we’re The Dependers. We’re trying to get an endorsement and maybe even turn pro.”

  There was no way I wanted to hear about her new scheme so early in the morning. I went into the kitchen to make coffee.

  “Mama, quit giving Roger our things to sell at the flea market,” I said.

  “Why do you care? It’s the only way he makes a living, and he needs the inventory. Pepper and Hank aren’t making a fuss.”

  I didn’t want to explain to her that some of my childhood things reminded me of the brief time I had with our father. Others were happy reminders of the fun Pepper, Hank, and I had while growing up. Mama had always been a bit of an eccentric character, but she had worked hard at the local vacuum cleaner plant and had provided well enough for all of us. Her love of games, jokes, and just being weird made our house a favorite in the neighborhood. Instead of being mad at her now, I should have taken my things long ago.

  “I’m coming over this weekend to get my stuff.”

  “Suit yourself,” she said as she headed for the door. “If I don’t see you then, I’ll see you at Pepper’s party on Sunday.”

  Another blast of cold air came in as she left. I looked out the window and watched her walk over to Pepper’s. Pepper would have coffee, muffins, and conversation for her. I didn’t know why it was so hard for me to have a close relationship with Mama. Pepper always said it was because I was the middle child.

  After getting dressed and drinking two cups of coffee, I headed out into the freezing weather for the flea market. Plowed snow was still piled up everywhere from heavy snowfall over the weekend, and freezing temperatures were predicted for several more days. The snow wouldn’t be melting anytime soon.

  The weather didn’t help my mood, and this morning was no different from yesterday. My face was locked permanently in a frown. I bypassed Roger and went to sit at the end of the counter next to Arnie.

  “Arnie, I don’t know what to do about Johnny Wyler. I’ve talked with all of his friends, and I’ve searched social media. I’m at a dead end and don’t know where to go next. Should I show his picture around Patterson near the garage where Keith thinks he saw him?”

  He looked deep in thought for a few moments before saying, “Go back over to the house. Ask his mother to let you look around some more. Be more observant this time. You’ll find something. There’s always something.”

  My frustration level was high this morning. I glanced down the line of people sitting at the counter. The gorgeous guy from yesterday was back and sitting with an equally gorgeous woman. I noticed their wedding rings right away. They were both staring at Arnie and me. The guy had another stunning smile on his face, but my suspicions were aroused when I noticed his wife had attempted to hide black eyes under makeup. I couldn’t help wondering if her husband beat her.

  “What happened to you?” I blurted out.

  “Airbag,” she said.

  The two of them gathered up their things and bolted for the door. I didn’t believe for one minute that an airbag had done that. She might be in trouble. If I saw her again, I’d ask her privately.

  “She’s quite a dame, ain’t she?” Arnie asked. I could tell by the tone of his voice he had appreciated watching her this morning.

  “She wasn’t a dame, Arnie. She looked like an abused woman with those black eyes.”

  “Nah. When they first came in, she mentioned her car accident yesterday. He’s not beating that tomato.”

  Just like with Mama, there was no use arguing with Arnie. Telling him his forties slang was inappropriate in today’s society wouldn’t stop him from using it.

  “I’m not sticking around,” I said. “I’ll check back in with Dana Wyler, and I’ll stop by Graham Realty today.”

  He nodded his approval to me and yelled down to Walt, “I’ll take a slice of that cherry now.”

  Jackie must have been in with pies. The last few slices were under glass on the counter.

  Jackie Ryder was a reporter for the local newspaper, The Buxley Beacon. She was also the journalist in the title of my investigative business, Two Sisters and a Journalist. She helped me on a regular basis. Her pie baking skills were legendary, and she had sources all over town who provided information to her in exchange for a pie. I’d call her later today. Maybe she had heard something at the paper about stolen cars. I might even be able to talk her into a run over to Patterson with me.

  I walked closer to Roger’s space than I intended on my way out. I couldn’t help taking a quick peek at his tables as I walked by. A woman picked up one of Pepper’s old dolls. Roger was quick to give her his standard admonition of, “If you break it, you buy it.”

  All I could do was shake my head in disgust and leave. Hopefully, something good would happen soon to turn my mood around.

  I wasn’t even a mile down the road when flashing lights and a siren showed up behind me. I pulled over to allow the cruiser to pass, but it pulled in behind me.

  Swell. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and if this was Officer Collins pulling me over to give me his usual grief over my investigations, I was going to report him to Sergeant Rorski.

  I put the window down and was pleasantly surprised when Glenn leaned down and flashed a dimpled smile at me.

  “Hey, Jo. Where you headed?”

  “I thought your shift was over at six.”

  “It was, but I stayed over to finish a mountain of paperwork. I’m on my way home now.”

  “I’m on my way to see Dana Wyler again. I’m not coming up with anything on Johnny. Arnie suggested I look around the house some more.”

  “Good idea,” he said. He reached a hand out to brush a strand of my hair aside. Glenn was the affectionate type. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed his sweet gestures. “I’m on duty again at eleven tonight. Want to meet me at Chummy’s at nine thirty for a sandwich?”

  I did want to meet him, but I knew I wouldn’t want to go back out into the freezing cold after I was home for the evening.

  “I have a better idea,” I said. “Why don’t you come by after eight o’clock? I’ll have dinner ready for you.”

  He laughed. “Patricia Anne’s Pizza? Or ribs from Smitty’s?”

  He knew I wouldn’t be cooking dinner. If it wasn’t frozen and going into the microwave, it was eating out or carrying out. Mama and Pepper could cook up a storm, but I missed that gene entirely and had even burned my hand once when boiling water.

  “Your choice,” I said.

  “Surprise me,” he said and leaned in to give me a kiss.

  Cold air poured into my open window, but his kiss left me with a warm feeling. This was a traffic stop I didn’t mind, and my spirits were definitely lifted.

  A horn blared, and we looked up to see Mama driving by. She didn’t ju
st honk a time or two, she laid on the horn. Her window was down, and she was waving her arm wildly as she went by. I assumed she was on her way to the flea market to add to Roger’s wares.

  Glenn laughed loudly. He was like Hank when it came to Mama. He found her actions humorous and got a kick out of everything she did. He waved back.

  “Don’t encourage her,” I said.

  “She’s harmless. Everyone should have such an outlook on life.” He leaned in to give me another kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Glenn left to go home to bed. I went to knock on Dana Wyler’s door.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Is there anywhere else in the house where Johnny spent his time?”

  I had just looked through his sparse bedroom again. There wasn’t a speck of dust in the room, and there weren’t any clues.

  “There’s a family room in the basement. He has a video game system down there.”

  All four homes on our cul-de-sac were similar. However, where my basement was open with a cement floor, Dana’s was partitioned into two rooms. The family room had dark wood paneling and brown carpeting with a gas fireplace at one end. A large flat-screen television hung on the wall opposite the couch. The furniture appeared to be fairly new.

  “John had the room finished shortly before he died,” she said. “He and Johnny watched television and played video games together down here.”

  This room, too, was neat as a pin. I shuffled through the video games. There were a few sports games, but most were shooters, racing, or warfare. He appeared to have the entire Grand Theft Auto series. The movies they owned were typical comedies and dramas men tend to like.

  I pulled out the end table drawers. One was empty. The other held a television remote and a nail clipper. It was looking like Arnie was wrong. There wasn’t anything here.

  There were two doors in the room. I opened the one nearest the stairs and saw it led to the other side of the basement. Even this side of the basement was neat and tidy with one corner for laundry and a furnace near the middle. There were only a few boxes of stored items, and I could easily see they were marked Christmas and holiday.