by Jeff Shelby
“It is. Thank you for arranging it,” I said. I studied her, then asked, “How are you?”
Her smile flickered. “I'm...alright.”
“Alright?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “The police were here late. I'm tired, I suppose.”
“Were they able to figure anything out?” I asked.
“I think they figured out that they think I killed Agnes.”
I wasn’t sure if she was being melodramatic or if she really thought that. “Do they really believe that?”
She sighed. “I think so. At least, that's the way their questions felt. Everything was about my relationship with her and where I was and when was the last time I talked to her. I don't know who else they'd be asking those same things to.” She shook her head and sighed again, a deeper one this time. “I may not have liked Agnes very much, but she wasn't worth my time to hurt, that's for sure. And that dopey detective was acting like I was the only one she didn't get along with.”
“There are others?” I asked. I remembered her saying this when Detective Grimmis was first interrogating her. “People she wasn't friendly with?”
Gloria’s laugh was brittle. “Daisy, I promise you. The first person you run into who tells you they liked Agnes Clutterbuck will be the last.”
“Why didn't anyone like her?”
She toed at the grass beneath her feet and I noticed for the first time that she was barefoot. “You two want some coffee? I haven't had enough yet, and my second pot should be ready.”
I was always up for coffee, and it sounded like she wanted company, so we followed her into the house.
The body was gone from the kitchen floor and the whole house smelled like lemon cleaner. She set out a mug for each of us at the bar and Jake and I settled ourselves on the orange-cushioned stools. She pulled out creamer from the fridge and grabbed a tin of sugar from the counter, offering both to us after she’d filled our cups. Then she filled one for herself and held it to her lips, taking a long, noisy slurp. She closed her eyes and sighed, clearly relaxed by the taste of the brew.
“Agnes Clutterbuck was a complete pain in my rear end,” she said, looking at each of us. “I can’t lie about that and if I did, I'd be a fool to do it because everyone around here knows we didn’t get along. Ever.”
“Why not?” Jake asked.
“You name it, we fought over it,” Gloria explained. “She lived next door. I tried to be friendly with her when she first moved in, but she wasn't having any of it. I attempted to keep my distance, but she made it impossible. She just…didn't like me.”
“But she didn't know you, right?” I said, sipping my coffee. It tasted like coconut. “You didn't know her before she moved in?”
“No!” she cried. “That's why it was so maddening!” She shook her head again. “She came over the second week after she'd moved in. She said the band was too loud.”
I didn't understand. “The band?”
“The GG's,” she explained. “We practice in the garage.”
Hence, the cleanliness I'd observed.
“It's an ideal space,” she went on. “Acoustics are great, plenty of space, and we've got the electrical capacity. No one else has ever complained, and we never rehearse after eight o'clock. But Agnes was compelled to let me know that we were too loud and we were disturbing her.”
“What did you tell her?” Jake asked.
Gloria picked up her mug and took a long drink. “I told her I was sorry, that we'd make sure we were done before eight o'clock, and that she should come to a show and hear us play for real.”
I nodded. It sounded like she’d said all the right things to appease a grumpy neighbor. “And what did she say to that?” I asked.
“She gave me the finger,” Gloria said, her nose wrinkling. “Flipped me off and stormed out of the driveway.”
Maybe living in a retirement community wasn't so congenial after all.
“It all went downhill after that,” she said. “I couldn't do anything right in her eyes. She reported me to the community because I supposedly had too many weeds in the yard. She complained because my car was parked on the street one afternoon.” She stared into her coffee mug for a moment. There was something in her expression I couldn't get a good handle on. “It was just one thing after another.”
“So there were other things?” I asked.
“Always,” she said. She set her mug down and rubbed her eyes. “Always. She was relentless. And I got tired of it. We had a terrible screaming match out in the street not too long ago. I'd just reached my breaking point and I...I let her have it.” She looked down at the counter. “Which probably doesn't look so good now.”
It wouldn't, but it seemed as though she had a solid alibi for the crime. She had come to the airport to pick us up. She'd been with us. She hadn't been at home, and we could verify that she'd been with us. Unless she’d done something to Agnes prior to coming to get us.
Gloria shook her head and took a deep breath. “Anyway, I'm sorry if all of this has put a damper on your trip. You all need to focus on having fun. And the party.” She snapped her fingers. “Which reminds me. Mom has an appointment today, so she won't be around if you were planning to go see her.”
Jake and I exchanged looks. I felt like a horrible person, but the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“We hadn't really planned anything yet for today,” he told her. “So that's fine. We'll occupy ourselves.”
“And I'd love it if you'd come to the show tonight,” she said.
“The show?” I said.
“The GG's,” she answered. She smiled and this one looked genuine. “We’re playing a gig tonight. It's all ages, of course, so the kids are welcome to come along, too.”
I glanced at Jake. “Of course. We'd love to come.”
Jake kicked my ankle, but I ignored him. I had no idea if The GG's were any good, but I thought it had the potential to be fun and entertaining, in a number of ways. It would also give us a chance to see her with friends, and to see their reaction to Gloria after the news of Agnes’ death had reverberated through the community. Because I was sure it was going to be the hot topic of conversation.
“Great!” Gloria said. “I'll get you the particulars after—” Her doorbell chimed and she looked toward it, surprised. “Now, who would that be?” She smiled at us. “I'll get you the particulars after I answer the door. Excuse me for just a moment.”
She left the kitchen and headed for the door.
“Why did you say yes?” Jake whispered. “It sounds terrible.”
“Listening to music? Since when does that sound terrible?”
“Since it’s a group of senior citizens who probably can’t hear well enough to know if their instruments are tuned. And since it’s a group who apparently thinks David Bowie is heavy metal…”
“Stop being an ageist.”
“A what?”
“An ageist. Someone who stereotypes and judges people based on their age.”
He rolled his eyes. “Loss of hearing is common as people age. And they do think Bowie is heavy metal – Gloria said so herself. So those aren’t stereotypes. Those are truths.”
“We’re not that far away from being senior citizens ourselves,” I reminded him.
“Twenty years,” he said, swallowing another mouthful of coffee. “We’re twenty years away from that stage. And I’m not going to go join a band at her age. I’m going to be on a beach, enjoying lots of Sleepy Beachy Time.”
“Lots of what?”
“Sleepy. Beachy. Time.” He yawned. “Actually, we should start practicing that now. At the pool.”
I shook my head. “No sleepy pool time tonight. Awesome music time.”
He started to object but I cut him off. “It could be awesome! And terrible!” I patted his shoulder. “And completely unforgettable.”
NINE
Gloria returned to the kitchen, and she wasn't alone.
A man about her age walked in slowly
behind her. His dark hair was brushed into a sweeping comb-over across his scalp, almost as if it had been blown that way by the wind. He was over six feet tall, with sloping shoulders and a thin build. His bushy eyebrows gave his eyes an almost cartoonish look above a nose that seemed almost too small for his face. He wore a red and yellow Hawaiian shirt and white linen shorts, and woven leather sandals covered his feet.
Gloria cleared her throat. “Daisy and Jake. This is...my friend. Irv Finkleman. Irv, meet my nephew, Jake, and his wife, Daisy. They're here for Mom's birthday party.”
Irv smiled nervously and Jake and I stood to shake hands.
“I, uh, I just heard about...Agnes,” he said, glancing from us to Gloria. “Harold told me. Down at the clubhouse.”
We all stood there awkwardly. Gloria was wringing her hands and shuffling her feet against the tile. The coffee pot hissed and gurgled, as if it just remembered it had more water to heat up and brew.
“Were you a friend of hers? Agnes, I mean?” I asked, unable to stand the silence.
It was Irv's turn to shift uncomfortably. “Um, well. I suppose you could say that.” He glanced at Gloria and forced a smile. “Maybe ex-friend is a better term.”
“Ex-friend?” I asked, my radar going up
Jake leaned into me, his fingers poking my side.
Irv pursed his lips and ran a veiny hand through his comb-over. “Well, yes. I'm sure that's how she would've put it. Agnes and I...well, we sort of had a falling out. After we dated.”
Jake coughed.
“Oh,” I said. People their age dated? As soon as I thought this, I felt bad. A few minutes earlier, I’d accused Jake of being an ageist and I was doing the same thing, making assumptions. “I...see.”
“We didn't end on great terms,” Irv admitted. “She was very angry with me. The last time I saw her, she threw a hammer at my head.” He paused. “It missed me, but broke the windshield of my car.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That's not good.” He frowned at me and I quickly added, “I mean, not good that it hit your car. Good, though, that it didn't hit you.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes.” He turned to Gloria. “They found her here?”
She pointed at the tile beneath his feet. “Literally right there.”
He looked down, then took a few steps backward, as if he she might have still been sprawled out on the floor. “You found her?”
“Daisy did.”
He nodded again, but his gaze seemed far away. “Did you two have another fight?”
Gloria's face reddened. “I hadn't seen her in two days. I didn't do a thing to that woman!”
Irv looked at Gloria. “Things have always been charged between the two of you.”
Gloria's cheeks positively glowed. “I told you. I didn't do anything to her!”
“I didn't mean you did,” Irv said, rubbing his chin. A faint hint of dark stubble dotted his skin. “I just meant...I don't know. I don't know what I meant.” He paused, staring down at the tile again. “She always hated me after...after.”
Gloria's hands seemed like they were massaging themselves, she was wringing them so quickly. “I know.”
“And after she did what she did,” he said, then shook his head as if trying to clear the memory. “Well, I hated her, too.”
Jake and I exchanged glances. It was as though we had completely disappeared from the room. Neither of them had addressed us or looked at us since I’d clarified my hammer comment.
“You told her you wanted to rip her hair out,” Gloria murmured.
It was Irv’s turn to blush. “Yes, I did. But that was in the heat of the moment.”
“I'm sorry,” Gloria said.
“Me, too,” he mumbled.
“What happened?” I finally asked, unable to contain my curiosity. I was itching to know what Agnes had done to Irv and why he had contemplated ripping her hair out.
They both looked at us, startled.
“Oh,” Irv said, his face turning scarlet. “Oh. Well...it...it...” He glanced at the black watch wrapped around his wrist. He brought it to within an inch of his eyes. “Actually, I need to get going. I've got...some things I need to get done. I'll be at the show tonight, though.” He glanced at Gloria. “Seven, right?”
She nodded, pasting on a bright smile. “As always.”
“Was a pleasure meeting you both,” Irv said before Gloria excused herself to see him to the door.
“That was interesting,” Jake whispered once they were out of earshot.
“I know!” I said, grabbing his elbow. “Why did she throw a hammer at him? Why did Gloria hate her? Why did he want to rip Agnes's hair out? There are so many unanswered questions.”
Jake glanced toward the entryway. “I was talking about his comb-over, but sure. Those things were interesting, too.”
TEN
“This isn't Disney,” Grace said, frowning. “When are we going to Disney?”
We'd left Gloria's right after Irv, as she told us she had a few things to do before the gig that night. We told her we'd see her there and walked back to the house. With nothing on the schedule, we decided to make it an amusement park day. I'd read in the tour book I'd bought, though, that certain days were far more crowded at Disney than the other parks, and Will had found an app that actually showed the waits in real time for the bigger rides in the different parks. We would have been looking at long wait times in Magic Kingdom at that time in the day, so we'd chosen Hollywood Studios instead.
Which apparently was not to Grace's liking.
“What are you even talking about?” Will asked, a churro clutched in his hand. “First of all, this is a Disney park. Second of all, this place has way better rides and we haven't had to wait in a single line. Stop complaining.”
“I'm not complaining!” she said, punching him in the thigh with the hand that wasn't holding an Icee. “I'm just asking when we are going to the actual Disney World!”
I put my hand on top of her head. Her hair was warm from the sun and I swore there were new blondee highlights that hadn’t been there the day before. “One day this week. We don't know which one yet.”
“You promise, right?” she asked, looking up at me. “I want to see Mickey in real life. And get him to sign this.”
She waved a tiny book decorated with mouse ears and with the word Autographs centered on the front.
“You know it’s not really Mickey, right?” Will asked. He was dressed in a red t-shirt and black basketball shorts instead of Disney-themed attire. “Like, there are lots of people who wear that costume. And there are lots of Mickeys in the different parks, all dressed in different costumes.”
Grace blinked. “What?”
I flashed Will a warning look before squeezing her shoulder. “I promise, sweetie.”
I knew we’d get to Magic Kingdom eventually. After all, we’d bought Park Hopper passes and I knew Jake was going to get his money’s worth for the price we paid, even if it meant we opened and closed the parks for our remaining days. And probably even if it meant skipping his grandmother’s birthday.
“It's so hot,” Emily said, her shoulders sagging as she sipped her iced coffee. She had on a white tank top with a bedazzled Ariel on the front, and denim shorts. She’d gotten a little sun the afternoon before, sitting poolside, so her legs weren’t a deathly shade of white. “I can barely breathe.”
I pulled up the weather app on my phone. It was 80 degrees, a far cry from being hot, but I could partially sympathize. We’d all been used to cold weather for the last five months – anything above 60 degrees felt warm compared to what we were used to. Couple that with Emily’s penchant for complaining and, well, it all made sense.
“I like it,” Sophie said, both hands wrapped around an ice cream cone that was rapidly melting. She licked at a line of chocolate dripping down the side of the cone. “It's better than being all frozen and stuff.”
Jake munched on his own churro. He’d eaten half of it in two bites, even though they were e
asily a foot long. We’d spent a small fortune on snacks and I had already decided a trip to the grocery store was in order so we wouldn’t have to constantly shell out fifty bucks every time someone needed a snack.
“Let's do Rock and Roller Coaster again,” Will said. He pointed in the direction we were headed. “It's that way. The app says the wait is only four minutes.”
We'd been using the app for the better part of the day and despite my initial skepticism, it had proven to be both accurate and helpful.
“Hurry,” Grace urged. “We only have a few hours left before we have to go back for Aunt Gloria’s concert!”
Concert was not the word I’d used to describe what we were going to that night, but the girls had decided that’s what it was going to be and I didn’t have the heart – or guts – to tell them differently. “Lead on,” I told her.
Will took the lead, the two younger girls fell in step on his heels, and Emily trudged along behind them, phone in the hand that wasn't holding the coffee.
“Do I even want to know what this trip is costing?” I asked Jake, as we hung back behind the kids. “I mean, I didn’t look at the ticket prices, but I can imagine they were pretty expensive. And I know how much we just spent on snacks.”
He grinned. “Nope, you don't.”
“Are we going to have to take out a second mortgage?”
“Interest rates are good right now,” he said. “Our credit's good. We'll be fine.”
I frowned. “I'm serious.”
He offered me a bit of his churro. “I'm kidding. It's fine. We don't get to do this stuff very often. So let me worry about that part. You just look pretty and sweaty and concentrate on eating churros.”
I bit off a large hunk of the cinnamon and sugar dough that had been deep-fried to perfection. He knew I was the worrier. About most things, but particularly about the cost of things. When he whipped out the wallet and handed them all cash to go buy snacks and drinks, I'd immediately asked why he was doing that and pointed out that there were perfectly good drinking fountains nearby and that I had granola bars in my backpack leftover from the flight. He replied that we were on vacation and sugar wasn't going to kill them, and that the granola bars weren't very good. The kids ran off with the money before I could object anymore and Jake promptly bought us a churro and a soda to share.
