Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 02 - Frogs, Snails, and a Lot of Wails

by Janet McNulty

  “Oh, Albert, look at this.” A middle aged woman held up a flowered vase to her husband.

  She stood next to a shelf that held our porcelain collection. Those things cost well above a hundred dollars since they were handcrafted. I thought Mr. Stilton was foolish in buying them, but we sold one a week.

  The man outside the window stared at the woman and the object she held. He quickly looked away when he noticed me watching him. He walked off picking up more garbage.

  I let his oddness slide as I went back to work. For the next few hours we had a steady flow of people buying a handful of items. I was glad of that since it made my afternoon go by faster.

  Six o’clock couldn’t have come any earlier. I clocked out immediately after, glad that my time there had ended. Now maybe I could finally get something to eat.

  I went straight home where the aroma of fresh popcorn filled my nose. My stomach grumbled in response. By now it had twisted into knots from not being fed all day. I went inside where Jackie sat on the couch with a giant bowl of fluffy popcorn. It was her own special recipe of salt, butter, and a parmesan garlic spice blend.

  “Something smells good,” I said as I reached for the popcorn.

  Jackie hugged the bowl close to her body. “Mine.”

  “Hey, I haven’t eaten all day.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  I reached for the popcorn again. She jerked it away playfully. Within moments we laughed and giggled as I tried to snatch some popcorn and she kept holding it away from me. On my last attempt to snatch a treat, Jackie thrust the bowl over her head. It slipped from her hands and flew across the room toward the door.

  “Heh-hem.”

  We both turned toward the entranceway. Detective Shorts stood there with a bowl on his head and a pile of popcorn all around him. Jackie and I looked at him sheepishly while unsuccessfully hiding our laughter.

  “I normally take less salt with my popcorn,” he said, “But that is not why I’m here.”

  Detective Shorts pulled the empty bowl from his head and handed it to me.

  “May I help you?” I asked.

  “You work at the Candle Shoppe.” The detective brushed popcorn off of his shoulders.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you work there today?”

  “Yes,” I replied, “Is something wrong?”

  “There was a break in,” said Detective Shorts. “Your employer closed up the store like he always does, but went back thirty minutes later when he realized he forgot something. Upon his return, he found the safe missing.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Someone broke into the Candle Shoppe. We never kept that much money in the safe. “Was anything else missing?”

  “Just some decorative candle holders.”

  “The porcelain collection?”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “Just that it is the only collection in there worth anything,” I said.

  Detective Shorts grunted. “I need to know your whereabouts today.”

  “I worked all day,” I replied, “From nine until six. I came straight home after getting off work.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual today?”

  I thought for a moment. Then I remembered the guy picking up garbage. “There was this guy that hovered around outside the shop picking up trash.”

  “Can you describe him?” asked Detective Shorts.

  “Yeah,” I said, “He wore a gray jumpsuit. He had a beard. Brown hair. Tanned skin.”

  “Any distinguishing marks?”

  “No.”

  Detective Shorts wrote down what I told him. I knew it wasn’t much to go on.

  “One other thing,” he said before leaving. “Someone noticed a car that matches the description of your boyfriend’s parked right outside the Pen Mill’s Estate. Now, I know people love to explore abandoned buildings, but I think people your age should know better.”

  Jackie and I glanced at each other scared that he might arrest us. How could anyone know we were there? And why would they report us to the cops?

  “We were never there,” said Jackie. The quiver in her voice gave away the fact that she was lying.

  Detective Shorts eyed us quizzically seeing right through her statement. “Uh-huh. You aren’t playing sleuth again, are you?”

  “No.” My quick response betrayed me.

  “Consider this a warning,” said Detective Shorts. “Don’t go snooping and stay out of trouble.” The detective left shutting the door behind him.

  “How much do you think he knows?” asked Jackie.

  “Probably everything.”

  “More popcorn?”

  I nodded.

  “You sweep and I’ll pop.”

  I got the broom from the closet and swept up the floor while Jackie made another batch of her famous, super yummy popcorn.

  Just as Jackie finished making more popcorn, the door opened. We really needed to rethink the unlocked door policy. Tiny walked in.

  “Tiny,” exclaimed Jackie, “What are you—”

  “The place you work at is robbed and you think I wouldn’t know about it,” replied Tiny. He plopped an overnight bag on the floor. This didn’t look good.

  “Well, yeah, but we’re ok,” I said.

  “And I am going to keep it that way,” said Tiny.

  “Pizza!”

  The voice belonged to a teenage kid who knocked on the door to the apartment next to mine. My stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead. Another reminder of my not eating all day.

  “You hungry?” asked Tiny as my neighbor paid for his pizza.

  “Yeah, but—”

  Suddenly, Tiny reached out and seized the pizza from my neighbor’s grasp.

  “Hey,” protested my neighbor.

  Tiny glared at him in that imposing manner of his. Of course, his muscles and tattoos scared everyone away.

  “Keep it,” said my neighbor rethinking his response, “It’s a gift.”

  Tiny shoved the pizza at me. “Suppertime!”

  I took the pizza greedily ripping it open and chowing down on a gooey slice of pepperoni with lots of cheese. Saliva filled my mouth as I chewed on the pizza. I never thought pizza could taste so good. But, going all day without food will do that to you.

  “Slow down, Mel.” Jackie stared at me with a disgusted look on her face. I couldn’t blame her since I had shoved an entire slice of pizza into my mouth. And I’m certain that I had sauce all over my face. The word “pig” came to mind.

  “When did you last eat?” asked Tiny.

  “Last night,” I said. Next thing I knew, I was sitting on the couch with the bowl of popcorn and the box of pizza.

  Tiny took out his cell phone. “Sombrero, we need food. Mel’s place. Bring the good stuff.” He flipped his phone closed. “Tonight, we feast.”

  Within twenty minutes Sombrero showed up with bags of food and a case of beer. Tiny laid them out on the floor of the living room. Feasting was right.

  Greg stopped by soon after we all started eating. “Hey, Mel,” he said, “Did you forget that we have a date?”

  I slapped my forehead. I did forget. “Sorry. I’ll grab my stuff.”

  “We’re having a party here,” said Tiny. “And after what happened today, she should stay here.”

  “What happened?” asked Greg.

  “Someone stole the safe from the Candle Shoppe,” I replied.

  “Sit down,” said Tiny shoving Greg onto the couch beside me. “Have your date here.” He pushed a plate of food in Greg’s hands overflowing with ribs, burgers, and noodles.

  “I think we would prefer some alone time,” said Greg.

  “Nonsense,” said Tiny. “We won’t bother you. Just pretend that we’re not here.”

  I sighed accepting the fact that I was now officially in lockdown and took a rib from Greg’s plate.

  We spent the next several hours eating and drinking, which made my tummy happy. After we had finished the food, Tiny fell
asleep in the big chair. I decided it was best to go to bed myself and sent Greg off home.

  Chapter 6

  At around three in the morning a noise interrupted my restful sleep. Groaning in irritation, I got up and went into the kitchen where the sound came from. A dish clinked. I peeked around the corner. Tiny still slept in the big chair. I’m surprised that his loud snore didn’t wake me, or the entire building.

  I went into the kitchen and flipped on the light. Timothy stood there with a dish in his hand. “Timothy, what are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” said Timothy. He put the dish back in the cabinet.

  “Do you need something?” After I said that I felt really stupid. I guess the one thing a ghost wants is to live again.

  “No.” Timothy seemed down, again.

  “Sit down,” I told him pulling up a chair. He obeyed. “Now, tell me what’s up.”

  “I miss being alive,” said Timothy. “I watched you guys eating and laughing earlier. I never had that when I was alive. I was always the dork. The super smart person that did other people’s homework.”

  I just sat silently as I listened. I had nothing to say that would make him feel better. So I decided to talk about his mystery. “Timothy, I’m trying to figure out who killed you, but I’m stumped. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “Like what?”

  “Is there the slightest chance that someone was in the house with you?”

  Timothy scrunched his brows as he thought. “It’s possible, but I didn’t see anyone. I did hear a bunch of footsteps though. And voices.”

  That got my attention. “Voices? Do you remember where they came from?”

  “Well, there was this fireplace. The voices seemed to have been coming from there.”

  That piece of information I found very interesting. I thought back to when Jackie, Greg and I went there. The fireplace had intrigued me. I don’t know what it was, but it called to me. I wanted to go back there for further investigation.

  “Whoa!”

  I looked up. Tiny stood in the doorway with a broom in his hands. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

  “I can see right through him,” said Tiny, pointing at Timothy.

  Timothy vanished.

  “Tim, come back,” I called.

  Slowly, Timothy rematerialized.

  “A ghost! You have a ghost here,” said Tiny. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It slipped my mind,” I replied with a wave of my hand. “Timothy, when you spied around town, did you learn anything?”

  Tiny sat in a chair lowering the broom.

  “Well—”

  “He speaks,” exclaimed Tiny.

  I placed my hand on Tiny’s wrist reminding him that I wanted to hear what Timothy had to say.

  “Anyway,” continued Timothy, “There isn’t much to tell. You are already aware of the places that have been robbed. But what you don’t know is that Mrs. Gibbons house was broken into while she was home.”

  “What was taken,” I asked.

  “A jewelry box,” replied Timothy, “It had been in the family for generations and supposedly came from the Pen Mills Estate.”

  “A jewelry box,” said Tiny, “That is a strange thing to steal.”

  “Don’t you know about the legend?” asked Timothy.

  “Legend?” asked Tiny and I together.

  Timothy sat up straighter. “When Pen Mills turned sixteen, her father gave her a necklace. Not just any necklace, but one with a large ruby. It was called the Rose Pendant. Today, that necklace would be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

  “Well, it was passed down through the years, but was lost during the Civil War. Some say that it was never lost, but just hidden by Josiah Mills. He feared that someone might steal it during the chaos of the war.

  “On his deathbed, someone asked him if he knew what happened to the necklace. He said that it was last seen beneath the rose

  “People have looked for that ruby ever since, but never found it. My guess is that it doesn’t exist.”

  “So why steal a jewelry box?” I asked.

  “That box was once part of the Pen Mills Estate. The family sold it in the early 1900s to pay off some of their debt. The Gibbons family bought it and it has been passed down since. They’re another old family in this area. My guess is that someone thought the necklace would be in there.”

  “And it wasn’t” I said.

  “Nope,” said Timothy, “Mrs. Gibbons said that it was empty. She only kept it because she thought it looked pretty.”

  “I bet that incident put some life in that old bird,” laughed Tiny.

  “So, all this stuff going missing: could it be that someone is stealing it trying to find this Rose Pendant?”

  “It’s possible,” said Timothy.

  “Most likely a bunch of kids trying to make a buck,” said Tiny.

  I thought about the key I had discovered in the old mansion. It was hidden in that holder. Could it literally be a key to the necklace?

  “I know that look.”

  Tiny’s statement brought me back to the present.

  “Don’t even think about investigating this,” he said.

  “I have to,” I countered, “Tim needs my help. And I think that all these thefts might be connected to his death. I know it is. If we discover who the thieves are, we might learn who the murderer is.”

  “You’re not going to stay out of this are you?” asked Tiny.

  “No,” I replied.

  “What are you going to do about the guy outside your door?”

  Timothy’s sudden change of subject intrigued me. “What man,” I asked.

  “The one right outside the door,” answered Timothy. “He’s been skulking there for the last hour.”

  Instantly, Tiny hopped out of his chair and went to the door. He yanked it open surprising the man that hunched low in front of the lock. Tiny grabbed him by the shirt lifting him off the ground. “What are you doing here?” he roared.

  “Nothing,” said the man. It was Jeremy.

  “I want to know what you are doing here, Jeremy,” I demanded.

  “You know him?” asked Tiny.

  “Not really,” I replied. “He just can’t seem to understand that I want to be left alone.”

  “You heard her,” said Tiny shaking the man.

  “Nothing, I swear,” squeaked Jeremy. “I just—” Jeremy stopped talking. He knew there was nothing he could say that would improve his situation.

  “Get out,” said Tiny. He threw Jeremy down the hall.

  Jeremy scrambled to his feet and ran away. I guess he was going to be more trouble than I had originally thought.

  Neither Jackie nor I had to work the next day. We decided to spend the afternoon shopping. Jackie bought a few items while I mostly window shopped. I silently chuckled as I watched Jackie carrying her bags while we walked down the sidewalk. Though not an avid shopper, she never could turn down the chance to buy at least one outfit matching the latest trend.

  She tripped a little as she lugged her giant bags. There were only a couple items in each bag, but the sales lady insisted on putting them in a sack the size of a suitcase. I don’t know why they do that. To me it seems wasteful and stupid.

  “I don’t know why you bought all that stuff,” I said.

  “Hey, it’s spring and I needed something new,” replied Jackie.

  “I never buy anything new.”

  “I’m aware of that,” said Jackie, “You’re still wearing the same jeans you wore in high school.”

  “I’m just glad I still fit them.”

  “No one’s arguing with that,” said Jackie, “But you could update your look. You know, like they say on that show What Not To Wear.”

  I groaned. Jackie loved that show. Personally, I thought the two people on there were arrogant. But she soaked up everything they said. Though, they had a point, sometimes you have to buy new stuff, as my holey t-shirt would verify.

/>   “Which is why I got you a new pair of jeans. And some slacks.” Jackie dropped her bags and pulled out a pair of jeans.

  “Are you sure they’ll fit?”

  “Of course they will.”

  Of course they’d fit. Since Jackie and I wore the same size, it made it easy for her to ensure that I stayed fashionable. If it wasn’t for her buying me the occasional new set of clothes, I’d be wearing rags. That’s how much I hated shopping.

  Jackie proceeded to model the jeans. “What are you looking at,” she snapped at a passer-by staring at her. He quickly looked away and hurried down the street.

  The sound of motorcycles filled the air as Tiny and his gang pulled up. Some of the guys whistled at Jackie as she held the jeans. Hastily, she stuffed the pants back into the bag.

  “What are you two up to?” asked Elise.

  “Shopping,” replied Jackie.

  “Sounds fun,” said Elise, “We should go shopping.”

  “Babe, you went shopping last week,” said Tiny.

  “Yes, but there is this outfit at Eros, which is—” Elise continued describing the outfit she wanted. I could tell he was envisioning it since Tiny had difficulty maintaining his composure.

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” said Jackie. “Too much information.”

  Elise stopped talking.

  Someone walked by and handed me a flyer. I glanced at it. The local museum was having an Open House of sorts. They had a new display up commemorating local history. The focus: Pen Mills Estate. My interest had been piqued.

  “We should go to this.” I showed Jackie the flyer.

  “I don’t know, Mel,” she said, “The museum sounds kinda boring.”

  “Jackie,” I said trying not to convey my true intentions in front of everyone, “We should go to this.”

  Understanding filled Jackie’s face as she realized what I meant. “We can’t carry these in there.”

  “We’ll take them,” said Tiny. “They’ll be nice and snug in your living room.”

  Tiny’s men took the bags from Jackie. I tried to hand him the key to the apartment, but he waved it away. “We don’t need keys to get inside places.”