by Amy Vansant
Heading for bed, she returned to the wall a moment later to add red car? to the list.
Chapter Eleven
Charlotte awoke to the sound of a toilet flushing and her heart raced before she remembered her new roommate. The one with a target on her back. A flushing toilet at six in the morning was a nerve-racking way to wake a girl who’d lived on her own nearly her entire life. She could attribute most odd noises to Abby, but knew the dog hadn’t figured out how to flush. As cool as that would be.
She stood, stretched, and peeked through her curtains. Darla was already up and walking the path to Mariska’s front door. Darla often went to Mariska’s to have coffee after Frank left in the morning. With it being so close to the community bake sale, they probably had plans to make jelly or some other canned good they could sell.
Perfect. She’d get them together while they were hip deep cutting strawberries and unable to run.
She found her phone and discovered Tilly had sent her a video. She watched a loop of Mariska scooping up gnomes as Darla stood nearby in her incriminating tee shirt. There would be no denying their involvement in the great lawn-decoration-switching caper. She was the only Sea Hag in the neighborhood.
Nearly giggly with her plans to confront Darla and Mariska, she moved to the kitchen to make coffee. A few minutes later Gloria shuffled in wearing a ruby-colored housecoat with black lace trim and a black hair turban with a clear glass jewel in the center.
“My goodness, look at you!” said Charlotte. “Maybe people are out to get you because you’re the missing Princess Anastasia.”
Gloria lifted a hand to her turban and smiled.
“No, I just don’t like anyone to see my hair before I have time to make something of it, but I need coffee to even attempt the transformation.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were looking for coffee or here to tell my fortune.”
“I see coffee in your future.”
“Ooh, you’re good. I’m making coffee.”
“Wonderful. I’m useless until I’ve had my coffee in the morning. Cream?”
“Creamer. On the fridge door. It’s brown butter pecan flavor.”
“Oh yum. I haven’t tried that one.”
Charlotte glanced at her chalkboard wall. “So I’ve been making a list of people who might want to hurt you…”
“A list? Surely there aren’t enough for a list!”
“You gave me four names yesterday.”
“I did? Who?”
“The people who bought the snake house. The husband you falsely claimed sold the snake house. The sister of the husband you asked to climb onto a roof during a lightning storm. Any number of people at the food store who don’t appreciate dead lizards in their fruit salad…”
Gloria laughed. “No one is going to kill me over a dead lizard.”
“What about Trey Oakford?”
Gloria looked up from stirring her coffee, eyes even more doe-like than usual.
“Who?”
“Trey. You play bingo with him.”
“Do I?”
“You do. Well you did at least once. That would be the time you knifed his tires.”
“I did what now?”
“Gloria. You have to be honest with me if I’m going to figure this out.”
She sighed. “Fine. How did you know about that?”
“I’m a detective, remember?”
“You’re excellent at it, too.”
“Thank you.”
“Does he know?”
“That you’re the one who popped his tire? No. I mean, I don’t know; I didn’t tell him if that’s what you mean. Why would you do something like that?”
“I was one number away and way ahead of everyone else, I’m sure of it. All I needed was B17. Then he screams out BINGO! and pumps his fists in the air like the big oaf that he is.”
“That isn’t a reason to pop his tire.”
“Oh you should have seen him. Gloating. I couldn’t help myself.”
Charlotte dropped her chin to her chest.
“Gloria, the mystery here isn’t who is trying to kill you, it’s how you’ve survived this long. You have to promise me you’ll work on your unquenchable lust for revenge.”
Gloria twisted her lips into a knot. “Fine. Sometimes karma’s just too slow.”
“Karma moves just fine without your help. Now, is there anyone else you can think of who’s felt your wrath?”
“Felt my wrap?” her hand fluttered to her turban.
“Wrath. Anyone else who has experienced your revenge.”
“Oh.” Gloria tapped her fingers against her chest as she pondered. “I took the tennis balls off the front of Dottie’s walker. Does that count?”
“Yes that counts! Why?”
“She told me my cake was dry. No—dry as a teetotaler’s wine glass. That’s what she said.”
“Fine.” Charlotte wrote Dottie on her ever-growing list of suspects; though with Dottie’s arms, if she’d really wanted to get at Gloria, she’d just put her in a headlock. Plus, Dottie, no shrinking violet, would have told her Gloria stole her tennis balls if she’d known.
“It’s going to take me the rest of my life to look into all these leads. Anything else?”
“No… Oh!” Gloria stopped the cup from touching her lips so abruptly she sloshed a little on the counter. “I don’t know if this counts, but I cheated at Random Santa.”
Random Santa was Pineapple Port’s version of Secret Santa. Everyone brought a gift to the Christmas party, all their names went into a bowl, and then each fished to see which gift he or she would receive. Gloria won the opportunity to organize the Random Santa name bowl during her first holiday in Pineapple Port. The locals liked to honor new neighbors with important jobs they knew were a hassle. Gloria was lucky Jackie hadn’t pushed her to take over water aerobics the way she’d been duped into the dubious honor.
“How do you cheat at Random Santa?”
“I peeked at all the gifts. If the gift was a good one, I wrote the name on cream paper. If it was a cheap piece of junk, I wrote it on white. You could hardly tell the difference in the bowl unless you knew what to look for.”
“Really? What color did I get?”
Gloria took a sip of her coffee. “I like this cheery yellow paint in here. Did you paint it yourself?”
“I gifted a nice hardback book last year!”
“I’m not much of a reader.”
“Jeeze. A book is better than what I got last year: a spider plant seedling someone clearly pulled from their own plant and threw into a cheap plastic pot. I don’t think it even had roots. It was a leaf in dirt.”
“Oh I remember that one. Definitely a white paper.”
Charlotte recalled the pathetic spider plant and mulled on how nice it would have been to get something useful or pretty. If she ended up with one more crocheted coaster set, she’d have to move into a bigger house. She squinted at Gloria.
“Are you going to do it again next year?”
“I don’t know…am I?”
Charlotte thought for a moment. “Tell you what. We’ll keep that little confession between us.”
Gloria grinned. “Deal.”
They clinked coffee mugs.
Charlotte looked out her front window. She was anxious to confront Darla and Mariska about their lawn decoration caper.
“I have to go over to Mariska’s. I’ll be back in a bit. You keep thinking about people you’ve…uh…assisted with their karma.”
“Okay.”
Charlotte headed toward the front door as Gloria strolled behind her.
“What’s red car?”
She turned to find Gloria staring at her chalkboard.
“Oh, I meant to ask you. Do you know anyone with a red car? Kind of sporty? I’m not good with brands.”
“No. Not that I can think of…”
“Okay. No biggie. Might be nothing.”
Charlotte put a leash on Abby and started across the road. She d
idn’t know why she bothered to bring the dog. Miss Izzy didn’t want a playmate. Mariska’s little white witch hated other dogs and pretended they didn’t exist. Poor Abby tried to get her attention, but Miss Izzy looked through her as if she were made of cellophane. The whole process was causing irreparable harm to Abby’s self-esteem.
She knocked on the door and entered.
“Hey ladies.”
“Hey girl, what are you doing here?” asked Darla. She was sitting at the island drinking coffee while Mariska peeled tomatoes at the sink. Miss Izzy flew around the corner on her stubby white legs, but came to a full halt in mid-bark upon recognizing her visitors.
“Oh you know, just switching up my routine. Don’t you like to switch things once in a while?”
Charlotte unclipped Abby, who ran to stand nose-to-nose with Miss Izzy, tail wagging. Izzy showed no sign of noticing, turned and waddled back to the bedroom. Abby glanced at Charlotte for advice.
Charlotte shrugged. “Sorry girl. If I were you, I’d just ignore her back.”
Abby trotted off after Izzy.
“She doesn’t listen to a word I say.”
“We’re switching things up right now,” said Mariska. “Instead of jam we’re making fresh spaghetti sauce!”
“Really! I thought I’d find you just lying here.”
“What? Why would we be sleeping at nine o’clock in the morning?”
Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Darla, whose smile began to fade.
“Uh oh. Mariska, Charlotte is looking at me funny.”
Mariska shifted her attention from her peeling. “What’s wrong?”
“Well…I was at Tilly’s last night—”
“Tilly’s? Why were you at that busybody’s?” interrupted Darla.
“She had some interesting footage.”
“Do you want to start on the onions?” asked Mariska.
“You know they make me cry,” said Darla. “Why don’t I do the peppers? You’re tougher than I am.”
Charlotte put her hands on her hips and tried to look as angry as possible. “I said, she had some interesting videos…”
“I saw a video last night about foxes,” said Mariska.
Darla’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, did you see that? We flipped passed it but—”
“Aah! Shush it! I know it was you!” Charlotte said, pointing to one and then the other. “Don’t think I’m going to forget and get caught up in your fox stories and onion banter!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You switched all the lawn decorations! There’s no point in denying it. You’re caught.”
Charlotte waited for them to babble denials. Instead, Darla placed her hand on her chest and released a deep sigh.
“Oh thank goodness. It’s such a relief you figured it out. We didn’t know how to leave you clues.”
“What?”
“We switched everything so you could practice being a detective but we were too good at it.”
“Exactly. How were you ever going to catch us?” added Mariska. “That’s what we were talking about before you showed up, about how we had no idea how to leave you clues.”
“Well, this is less rewarding than I hoped,” muttered Charlotte. “Turns out you had nothing to worry about. Tilly had you on video.”
Darla grunted. “Busybody.”
“Don’t blame Tilly, you’re the one who gave it away. The video was a little grainy, but I could still see your Sea Hag tee shirt easily enough.”
“I knew I should have turned that inside out.”
“What about me?” asked Mariska. “You didn’t know it was me!”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I knew it was you.”
“How? I wore all black. I was practically invisible.”
“First, you have a unique way of walking. Second, Darla was there. Third…well I don’t need a third, I have video for crying out loud. I can see that it’s you clearly enough.”
She held up her phone and the two women watched themselves steal gnomes.
“Busybody,” muttered Mariska, turning back to her tomatoes.
“Well, good job, sweetie,” said Darla, patting Charlotte on the shoulder. “You’re doin’ real good.”
“Well…you can put your witch back on your roof now. I know that must be driving you crazy.”
“No!” Darla’s head jerked up and she nearly fell off her stool. “The witch really was stolen!”
“Uh-huh. Whatever. Seriously, you don’t have to keep this up.”
“No, I’m not kidding. Someone took the witch while we were out taking everything else! I guess… I didn’t notice it until I went to get the paper the next morning.”
“Is someone in your house?” asked Mariska. She was staring out the window above her sink.
“Are you talking to me?” asked Charlotte.
“I think someone just peeked through your blinds.”
“Is it Declan?” asked Darla.
“No!”
“The fireman?”
“Darla!” said Charlotte, feeling her face grow hot. “It’s Gloria. She’s hiding at my house until we figure out who threatened her.”
“Why your house?”
“She hired me.”
“With money?”
Charlotte nodded.
Darla, fished through her pockets. “Here.” She thrust a crumpled five-dollar bill at her.
“What’s this?”
“I’m hiring you to find my witch.”
Charlotte smirked. “Gloria gave me a hundred.”
“A hundred dollars!”
“A day?” asked Mariska.
“No…I mean, she just gave me a hundred last night as a retainer.”
“You can’t even stay at a Motel 6 for a hundred dollars.”
Darla nodded. “Sounds to me like you’re the cheapest hotel in town. Are you feeding her too?”
Charlotte pictured her precious brown butter pecan creamer pouring into Gloria’s coffee. “I—”
“You have to up your prices!”
Charlotte looked at the five-dollar bill in her hand and then back at Darla, who huffed.
“Not with me. I’m not asking to stay at your house.”
“Right.”
Mariska clucked her tongue. “Gloria is so sweet. Who would want to hurt her?”
“She’s got you two bamboozled…”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Charlotte held up the five-dollar bill. “I’ll keep looking for the witch.”
“Thank you dear. Oh, I almost forgot. I have some bad news.”
“What?”
“I can’t be your tail-end on Friday.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped. Mariska had been working on a unicorn costume for her and Darla to wear to the Charity Halloween Bonanza for months. Finally, Pineapple Port would beat the Silver Lake community, which had dominated the costume contest for as long as she could remember. The plan was for Charlotte to be the front end and Darla the back.
“Why not?”
“I pulled my back movin’ around the lawn decorations. Tried to pick up that giant stone crane Bubbles has over there on Driftwood. I can’t bend over for any length of time or I lock that way.”
“Can’t we just make you the front and I’ll be the back?”
“I made the front to fit you,” said Mariska. “It’s too much work at this point to expand it for her.”
Darla put her hands on her hips. “I don’t think I like the way you said that.”
Charlotte tilted her head back. “This is terrible. We should have made you the front in the first place.”
“What about Declan? Could you ask him?” asked Mariska.
Charlotte sighed. She’d hardly been dating Declan a month and felt weird pushing him into a retirement community costume party dressed as a horse’s butt.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “I have to get back to work.”
She found Abby lying on the carpet in Mari
ska’s room, staring forlornly at Miss Izzy, who slept on the bed with her back turned to her.
“Come on Abby, let’s hit the road. Stop being so needy.”
Abby stood and with one last glance at Izzy’s back, padded out of the room. Charlotte needed to get back home and cross a mystery off the chalkboard. Then, she had to concentrate on Gloria’s case and get her out of her house before she drank all the creamer.
Chapter Twelve
“Ding a ling a ling!”
Declan looked away from his customer and saw Stephanie standing inside his shop’s door shaking an imaginary bell.
He offered his customer an uncomfortable smile. “I used to have a bell.”
The woman stared back at him, blankly, and he offered what final thoughts he could on the quality of the sofa they’d been discussing. He omitted how the previous owner had passed away on that very sofa, dead of a heart attack at age eighty-eight.
Stephanie wandered to the opposite side of the store. She was turning on and off an unplugged lamp when he approached her.
“Does this work?” she asked.
“With electricity. And a bulb. It’s pretty high maintenance that way.”
“I’ll take it.”
“That’ll be forty dollars.”
“No, I mean I’ll take it.” She pulled it closer to her.
Declan sighed. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“I know. You told me to pick a time and I haven’t picked one yet.”
“You’re taking too long.”
“It’s barely been twenty-four hours.”
“I saw your girlfriend.”
“What?”
“I’ve been in town for weeks. I didn’t just drive straight to your door, you know. I’ve been watching. And I know about your girl who lives with the old people. I’ll tell you one thing… She’s not me.”
Declan felt his anger rising. “That’s one of the things I like most about her.”
“I’m going to need you to dump her.”
“What?”
“Uh oh.” Stephanie reached out and tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. “You look like you’re about to lose your temper!”
“Sir?” called the sofa shopper.
Thank you.
He spun away from Stephanie and slapped a smile on his face as he crossed the shop.
