by Ann B. Ross
Lillian had told me once that if I didn’t have one thing to worry about, I’d look around until I found two more. She may have been right, because it’s my nature to take on the burdens of those I care about. But I’d been trying to let the rest of the world take care of itself, and so far I’d been doing a fairly good job of it. Now, though, someone had died under unknown circumstances practically on my doorstep, and I wasn’t sure exactly how I could manage to stay above the fray. I mean, I couldn’t help but be curious about it.
Going to the kitchen window, I saw Sam, bundled up in his overcoat, come walking down the driveway. As usual whenever I saw him, my heart gave an extra thump, and I smiled. I saw him take notice of the open garage door and, making a detour around the car, walk toward it to see what was going on. Lillian and Lloyd met him and they stood talking a few minutes. Then, as Sam started toward the house, I quickly turned from the window, patted my hair, and stood by the door to greet him.
As soon as he came in, I reached for his coat and he reached for me. He smelled of cold air and a hint of lemony aftershave.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said. “You know what those two are doing out there?”
I laughed. “Yes, I do. Have they found anything?”
“Lots of spiderwebs and junk. I suggested they clean the place out while they’re at it, but that didn’t go over too well. Oh, and here, Julia,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “You left your checkbook in the car. I saw it on the seat as I walked by.”
“Well, my goodness, I hadn’t even missed it.” I flipped through the pages. “It’s my household account. It must’ve slipped out of my pocketbook when I was rummaging for the Texaco card the other day.
“But sit down, Sam,” I said, as I tucked the checkbook behind the telephone, then hung up his coat. “I’ll pour us some coffee, and you can tell me what you’ve heard.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Sam said, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down. “What they told me is news to me. I haven’t heard a word, but then I’ve been holed up all day working on my book. I haven’t talked to anybody.”
Now that he was retired from the practice of law, Sam spent most days at his house—the one he’d lived in before we married—writing a legal history of Abbot County. It seemed to be taking him years to get it done because facts had to be meticulously checked and rechecked to avoid lawsuits for libel by all those lawyers he was writing about. Lawyers are so litigious, you know. I wasn’t sure Sam would ever get it written, but it was all right with me if he didn’t. He was enjoying the process, feeling creative and productive—and what would he find to do if he did finish it?
“Lloyd is certainly exercised over it,” I said, putting down two cups of coffee and taking a seat. “But his teacher is involved, so I’m not surprised. It’s a shame, though, that the deputies had to come to the school to get her. I expect that upset every child there, and the term’s barely started.”
“Hazel Marie and Pickens not back yet?” Sam asked, abruptly changing the subject. It was as if he had no interest in pursuing any speculations about the who, what, and how a dead body ended up in a teacher’s toolshed, which suited me because I was determined to keep my mind on our own problems and not go looking for anybody else’s.
“No, but they should be back any time now. I hope the doctor tells her when those babies are due. I declare, Sam, I need to be prepared. Their onset was such a surprise to me that I don’t think I can take their sudden and unannounced arrival. I’ve heard young women who were expecting talk about their due dates, and they were quite specific. Such and such a date, down to the month and day, yet we’ve not heard a word from the doctor or from Hazel Marie. For all we know, she could keep on expecting for months to come.”
Sam laughed. “Oh, I don’t think she’ll do that.” He reached over and put his hand on mine. “We don’t need to know a date. They’re all prepared for whenever it is. We’ve got the crib up, and from the looks of things in their room, Hazel Marie has all the blankets, clothes, diapers, and so forth they’re going to need. We’re ready and they’re ready, so let’s just take it as it comes.”
“I know, I know, and I will, since I have to. I just like to know what to expect.”
We looked at each other and laughed. “We pretty much know what to expect, don’t we?” I said, feeling a bit foolish, but loving the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he laughed. “You know, Lloyd was so disappointed when we didn’t have Christmas babies. I think he was convinced that Santa Claus would bring them.”
“Julia, honey, here’s a news flash for you. He doesn’t believe in Santa Claus. He got over that years ago.”
“Why, Sam, you know not. He always makes a list of what he wants Santa to bring him.”
“Yes, and he gives it to you, doesn’t he? He knows the pretense is important to you, so he keeps it up.”
“My goodness,” I said, “I guess that means he’s growing up, and I’m not sure I like it. Well, he can just keep on doing it, even though Santa wasn’t able to deliver this year. Lloyd had to make do with that Guitar Hero instead of two little babies.”
Lillian came in then, along with a gust of cold air. She walked over to the pantry to put away the broom. “Well,” she announced, “one thing for sure: they’s no dead folks ’round here.”
“That’s a relief,” Sam said, smiling.
“Miss Julia,” Lillian said, closing the pantry door, “I ’bout forget to tell you. When I went to the grocery store, I got Lloyd some new shoelaces for his tennie pumps. What he got now is nothin’ but knots, an’ they so short he can’t hardly tie a bow. They right over here on the counter.”
“Oh good, I’m glad you thought of them. Thank you, but where is he, anyhow?” I asked, getting up to bring the coffeepot to the table. “He still in the garage?”
“No’m, he get on his bicycle to go ride around.”
“Why, Lillian,” I said, stopping in my tracks, “you know he’ll go to his teacher’s house, and no telling what he’ll hear and see. Next thing you know, he’ll be having bad dreams. Sam, let’s go look for him.”
“He’ll be all right, Julia,” Sam assured me. “He won’t get within blocks of the place. They’ll have crime-scene tape strung everywhere, and the cops’ll be keeping people back. He’ll be on his way home in a little while.”
“Well, but what if that body isn’t just dead, but killed? And what if whoever killed it is still around? I don’t like him being out by himself. Besides, it’ll be dark soon, and he needs to be home.”
“Okay,” Sam said, rising, “I’ll go get him. And,” he went on as he slipped into his coat, “maybe I’ll find out a little more about what’s going on while I’m at it.”
Uh-huh, I thought to myself, and maybe you’re a little more interested in what was in that toolshed than you’ve been letting on.
Chapter 3
Sam had been gone barely ten minutes when Mr. Pickens and Hazel Marie arrived, both of them looking happy and expectant. Well, of course, Hazel Marie looked expectant, generally speaking, but I’m referring to the expressions on their faces.
“Won’t be long now,” Hazel Marie said, as Mr. Pickens took her coat and eased her into a chair.
“Well, thank the Lord,” Lillian said. “You look like you ’bout to ’splode any minute.”
Mr. Pickens laughed. “Let’s hope the explosion holds off a little longer. Two more weeks and we’ll have us some babies.”
“Two weeks?” I asked, as a surge of excitement ran through me. “If it’s that definite, we’d better call Etta Mae and put her on notice.”
Etta Mae Wiggins, the home health care professional—if six weeks of night school makes a professional—had promised to tend to Hazel Marie and the babies for a few weeks after the birth, and her eagerness to be of help gave me peace of mind. I’d had no experience of my own, having had no children, and it had been so long since Lillian had had hers that I wasn’t sure how up to date she was. Etta Mae,
on the other hand, had several years’ experience as a nurse behind her and had dealt with all kinds of health problems. Disregarding the fact that the health problems she normally dealt with were those of senior citizens, I was confident that Etta Mae could handle a pair of newborns as easily as she managed querulous and hard-to-please old people. Babies would be a cinch for her.
Etta Mae was a highly capable young woman, and I should know because she managed one of those seedy trailer parks for me. The park had been one of my first husband’s less desirable properties, but I’d kept it and made Etta Mae the manager. She’d been thrilled to have the position, because, bless her heart, she was always trying to better herself. She’d jumped right in, cleaning house and taking names. The place sparkled now, and the sheriff rarely had to be called.
“Up to this point,” I went on, “that doctor’s been mighty unsure of your due date. How did he figure it out now?”
“He might have to take them,” Hazel Marie told me. “He’ll induce labor and see how I do. If everything goes all right, he won’t have to do a Caesarean section. But if it doesn’t, I’ll be right there in the hospital. So it’s all set up—two weeks from today, which means I’ve got to get to Velma’s for a pedicure.”
“You’re talking about an operation?” I asked, immediately concerned for fear that something was wrong. “Oh my, Hazel Marie, is that really necessary?”
“I doubt it. He just wants me in the hospital so he can supervise my labor. To tell the truth, though, I wish he’d go ahead and do it, but he wants the babies to get a little bit bigger.”
“My word,” I said, “I’m not sure you can stand them getting much bigger.”
“Me either. I have to sleep propped up on three pillows as it is. But,” she went on, her eyes sparkling, “I’m not complaining. This is the happiest time of my life, and I’m going to enjoy it if it kills me.”
Mr. Pickens put his arm around her. “Well, we’re not going to let that happen.” He looked around, then said, “Where’s Lloyd? He doing something after school?”
So of course that led into the retelling of what was the talk of the school and what would probably be the highlight of the school year.
“Sam went to get him,” I said after finishing the telling. “But it’s time both of them were back. I don’t know what’s keeping them.” I got up and walked over to the window to see if they were coming.
Lillian turned from the sink, a look of apprehension on her face. “You reckon Mr. Sam can’t find him?”
“Lillian!” I cried, looking at Hazel Marie with concern. She didn’t need any sudden frights. “Don’t say that. They’re probably standing around listening to all the speculation. I’ll just run down there and tell them it’s suppertime.”
As I went for my coat, Mr. Pickens said, “I’ll go. It’s too cold for you to be out.”
And before I could insist, he was out the door. “Well, I guess if anybody can find anybody, he can.” Then, wanting to reassure Hazel Marie, I said, “It’s nice to have a private investigator at your beck and call, isn’t it? I always feel comforted when Mr. Pickens is on the job.”
“You think Lloyd’s all right?” Hazel Marie asked, frowning. “I hope J.D. can find him.”
“I’m sure he will. I expect every child in Lloyd’s class and then some are gathered around that teacher’s house. He’s probably with a group of friends, standing around hoping to see something. And as for Sam, well, you know how he is. He starts talking to somebody and loses track of time. Let’s not worry about them.”
Easier said than done, of course, but I didn’t want Hazel Marie marking those babies. Which, as you know, can happen when an expectant mother gets a sudden scare.
Lillian clunked a spoon against a pot, then quickly spun around. “Oh, Miss Julia, I forget to tell you somethin’ else. That groc’ry man say your last check bounce back from the bank an’ he want you to come in an’ see about it.”
“What? ”
She started to repeat herself, but I interrupted. “I heard you—I just didn’t understand. I haven’t written a check to the grocery store. You put everything on a credit card and I pay Visa every month. How could he have a check of mine?”
“I don’t know, but he do ’cause he wave it ’round in my face.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Why, I haven’t even been in that store since way before Christmas.”
“Well, what you want me to tell him if he get after me again?”
“Tell him he can just hold his horses. The bank has obviously made a mistake, and all he has to do is run it through again. Besides, Ingles will hardly go broke over one measly little check that’s not mine anyway.”
Lillian frowned but didn’t argue. She took a small glass of orange juice and a few crackers and set them before Hazel Marie. “You need a little snack,” she said.
“Oh, Lillian,” Hazel Marie said, smiling, “I’m so full, there’s hardly any room for anything else.”
“That’s why I jus’ give you a little bit. But it’ll carry you till supper, when I don’t ’spect you to eat much then. You been eatin’ like a bird anyway—a little peck here an’ a little peck there.”
“I’ll take it with me to the bedroom,” Hazel Marie said, as she clumsily leveraged herself out of the chair. “I want to call Etta Mae and get these shoes off before my feet start swelling.”
“You better put those feet up,” I said, taking her arm and the orange juice and walking her through the back hall to the room she now shared with Mr. Pickens. “Maybe you can catch a little nap too.”
After getting her settled with a movie magazine, I returned to the kitchen, intending to question Lillian further about that returned check. But the telephone rang before I could open my mouth. Because I was right beside the phone, I answered it and got a sudden gush of words from LuAnne Conover.
“Julia,” she said, her breath catching in her throat. “What’s going on down there? I just got home from running errands downtown and came back on Polk Street. I passed your house and started to stop, but I had some frozen food and decided I better not. But anyway, right down the street from you, there were all these cars and people standing around like something was happening, and I stopped to ask about it, and would you believe that a deputy came over and told me to move along? He said I was blocking traffic, but there were only two cars behind me and they were just as interested as I was. So what was it?”
“Well, LuAnne,” I said, “I don’t have the details, but Lloyd came home from school saying that they’d found a body in his teacher’s toolshed.”
“A dead one? I can’t believe that. Who was it? Which teacher? I’ll bet you Thurlow Jones is involved. All those cars and people were around his house, in his yard, and on the sidewalk. I’ve never trusted that man.”
“Me either, but I doubt he had anything to do with it. The teacher’s house backs up to his, and that’s probably as close as anybody can get.”
“Who’s the teacher?” LuAnne asked, and I could just see her eyes squinch up as she asked it.
“A Miss Petty, but I don’t know her.”
“Yes, you do, if she’s the one I’m thinking about. Her father owned that hardware store, the one right off Main Street? You remember it, I know you do. It was about the only one around here for the longest, but he had to go out of business when Walmart opened. People just stopped giving him their business. They were so thrilled to have a Walmart that they did their shopping there instead of supporting the local stores. Why, I even heard of families planning outings to Walmart like they’d plan a trip to the movies. Anyway, I think Jim Petty died not too long afterward. But what was the daughter’s name? Let me think a minute. Well, it’ll come to me. But Julia, how’re you doing?”
“Oh, I’m all right. Just perking along as usual.”
“But aren’t you worried? I mean, they could’ve found that body in your backyard. You’re practically next door.”
“Why, LuAnne, we’re six blocks away
. I wouldn’t call that next door.”
“Well, it’d be too close for me. If I were you, I’d find out all the details and take steps. No telling what could happen.”
Then after telling me to be sure to call her if I heard anything more, she remembered something else. “Wait, I forgot to tell you. Did you know the Methodists have a new preacher? Not the main one, but an assistant or youth minister or something.”
“Oh, LuAnne, their bishop is always rotating someone in or out, so that’s not news.”
“Well, this one is,” LuAnne almost whispered. “It’s a woman, Julia, and I heard that half the congregation is up in arms about the way she looks.”
“How does . . .? ”
“I’ve got to go, Julia,” LuAnne said, suddenly in a hurry. “Leonard is having a fit for me to drive him by Thurlow’s to see what’s going on. He’s sitting out in the car, blowing that horn for me to come on. But I’ll call Mildred to see what she knows. I’ll call you back if I hear anything else.” And she rang off to continue tracking the news.
“Well, Lillian,” I said, replacing the receiver, “the phone lines have started humming, and no telling what tales will be spread before we get the truth of it. But I just can’t get exercised over it. I’ve made a vow to Sam that I’ll stay out of matters that don’t concern me, and I intend to keep that vow.”
Lillian cut her eyes at me. “Uh-huh, I b’lieve that when I see it.”
“You can believe it, all right. We have our hands full already. Just think, Lillian, those babies will be here in two weeks!”
“Yes’m, but they’s somebody dead not far off from here an’ I can’t help but feel a little skittish ’bout that, ’specially ’cause that somebody didn’t die in his own bed.”
