Granny turned to Franklin after the two left. “First my undercover sleuth job for the merchants of Fuchsia is gone. I thought that was Thor but now I’m not so sure he didn’t do that without some convincing. Then I’m moving?”
Franklin smiled at Granny, gave her a wink, and moved toward her to take her into his arms. At that moment both pet doors slammed open and closed as the shysters and Baskerville along with Mrs. Bleaty bounded into the room knocking Franklin and Granny apart. Little White Poodle had a notebook page in his mouth and Baskerville and Tank were chasing him. Little White Poodle kept winding in and out of Franklin’s and Granny’s legs to keep away from his followers. Franklin grabbed Granny to hold her steady so she wouldn’t fall. All of sudden a howl cut through the air and then the words “Stop him, stop him. He’s a thief!” Radish flew in through Baskerville’s pet door after imitating Baskerville’s howl and grabbed the paper out of Little White Poodle’s mouth. Radish flew around the room with the shysters and Baskerville chasing him. Mrs. Bleaty, having enough of the bedlam, retreated to Granny’s bedroom.
Franklin let go of Granny to try and get the paper out of Radish’s claws but Radish was too quick and flew out the door leaving only a piece of the document in Franklin’s hands. The shysters and Baskerville, seeing the chase was over, settled down on the floor to take a nap.
Franklin looked at the piece of paper in his hand.
“Since when do parrots like winter?” Granny asked as Franklin continued his scrutiny of the paper.
“His name is Radish, he belongs to someone from Alaska who is, in your description, despicable, and they live in the strange town of Fuchsia, Minnesota. Does that answer your question? When does anyone in Fuchsia do anything normal?” Franklin reminded Granny as he held out the piece of paper for her to see.
“This looks like it has my name on it. My maiden name.”
“It looks like a birth certificate.”
“Why would that bird have my birth certificate?” Granny wrinkled her nose at the thought.
She lifted her eyes to Franklin’s, stiffened her back, grabbed her shovel cane and pounded it on the floor. “That man! That despicable, cantankerous old man is investigating me. He’s spying on me.” Granny grabbed her coat that she had thrown over the kitchen chair on her return earlier and was ready to stomp out of the house when Franklin stopped her.
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think I’m going? I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
“Calm down, it’s late. Let me take this to Thor and he can do the questioning. You stay away from that man. Get some sleep and dream of our wedding. I’ll talk to you later.” Franklin leaned over and kissed Granny, gave her a hug, and walked out the door.
The calendar on the wall by Granny’s bed had a big red circle around December 26. Putting on her Sexy Granny and I Know It PJs, Granny glanced at the calendar and realized that she still hadn’t picked out what she was going to wear for her wedding to Franklin and, as she found out tonight, they still hadn’t settled where they wanted to live. Franklin had bought the Mayor’s big Victorian house and put his house on the market. Fuchsia Mayor, Horatio Helicourt, had moved to a smaller home closer to downtown and the mayor’s office.
Climbing into bed with a new book and her chocolates, Granny wondered if she wanted to move. It seemed Franklin was making the decisions for her and Granny worried that she might be falling back into her old ways as when she was married to Ferdinand. When she had been married to Ferdinand, he had made all the decisions and she liked her independence now. Was she afraid she would turn back into her former self, letting Franklin control her life? Was that what he wanted to do? It seemed since he had bought her a new car and she had accepted his ring, things had changed. She found herself agreeing occasionally to things that she didn’t want. Was she mellowing? She missed the forgetful, cunning part of herself that she had used for her undercover role. Maybe that was more a part of her than she thought. Her children were no longer threatening her with the wrinkle farm and she missed the game of trying to stay out of the hoosegow or the wrinkle farm. Now that had been living she thought as she drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There appeared to be no movement anywhere on Granny’s street, no human movement anyway. The only thing Granny could see as she peered into the binoculars that she had perched on the sill in her kitchen window was the movement of snowflakes falling from the heavens and the wind gracefully blowing those snowflakes into white swirls that mimicked the waves on the oceans. It was snowing again in Fuchsia.
The shysters, Baskerville, and Mrs. Bleaty, had been gone by the time Granny woke up from another nightmare about Silas. This time in the nightmare, Silas was interrupting her wedding, claiming that she was his snow baby. Granny awakened shouting, “I am not your snow baby! I am not your snow baby!” It took her a few minutes to get her eyes open wide enough to realize it had all been a nightmare. When she did, she realized that there were no warm creatures sharing her bed. Thinking they might have wandered back into their normal routine, she decided to check if there was any evidence that they had escaped to Silas Crickett’s house.
Training the binoculars on Silas’s window, there didn’t seem to be any evidence of movement. Adjusting her surveillance to the basement window, she could see no light and no tracks in the snow, although the wind could have covered their tracks. She was about to put the binoculars down to go and change clothes to confront Silas, when her cell phone rang. It was still in the bedroom so Granny shuffled fast to answer it before it went to voicemail. People always got upset at her voicemail message: It’s a bark not a lark. Then the Little White Poodle and Tank would bark before the next part of the message: It’s a phone, I’m not home. Don’t cry foul, leave a howl. Then Baskerville would howl and it would be time for the caller to leave a message. Granny couldn’t understand why no one left messages.
As Granny picked up her phone, Eye Time popped up and Franklin appeared in her vision. “Good morning, Hermiony, and what delectable nightwear are you wearing this morning?”
Granny glared into Franklin’s eyes though the Eye Time screen and held the phone up high so Franklin could not see her Sexy Granny and I Know It PJs.
“I am wearing what I always wear in the winter––my PJs with the feet built in, you know, the one piece kind,” Granny told him in a crusty voice.
Franklin’s grin faded at the thought of Granny in the old-fashioned foot pajamas. “Just wanted you to know all the furry crew made it here to my house during the night before the snow started falling. They must be back to their routine. Didn’t want you to worry.”
“I was just looking for them. What do you suppose they are up to now going back to their normal routine? Think they’re trying to throw us off the scent of clues?”
Franklin sighed, “They’re animals, our loveable animals, they like routine and they are back to it. No clues, no mystery. And you should take their cue. Let the Tall Guy and Thor––and me, when they want my help––solve the problems in the cemetery.”
Granny thought for minute before making a suggestion, “Maybe you all should bring Silas Crickett in on the investigation since he was such a hotshot in Alaska.”
“I get the impression from the Tall Guy that when Silas hung up his hat as a detective in Alaska, it was for good. The last case he had was a pretty brutal one. So much so that Ephraim says he won’t talk about it. Keep your distance, Hermiony. There’s a lot we don’t know about him,” Franklin warned.
“Got to go.” Granny abruptly hung up the cell phone.
Granny walked back to the kitchen with her binoculars and pointed them at Silas’s house. She hadn’t really wanted him in on the investigation, she just wanted him out of her hair so she could continue snooping. Everything was dark. He didn’t appear to be home.
Granny picked up her cell phone and barked into it, “Mavis!” The phone dialed Mavis’s number.
“Are you up?” Granny queried.
> “I am now.”
“Where’s George?”
“He’s in Contrary, Iowa, visiting his daughter. He left before the snow. Why?”
“Ever been on a snowmobile?”
“Uh, no,” Mavis answered with a hesitation in her voice.
“Have you seen Thor this morning?”
“I saw him leave his house early this morning. I assume to go to work. Do you need your son?”
“Perfect, dress warm. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.” Granny slammed down the phone and hustled to prepare for the trip.
Granny watched as Mavis shuffled down the steps and through the snow that had piled up on her front steps. On Mavis’s head was a bomber hat with earflaps that reached almost to her eyes. The hat sat down low on her head coming down to the top of her eyes. All that seemed to be peeking out from underneath the cap was a tiny nose and an anonymous chin. She had on a pair of adult snowpants that were a little too big for her, tucked into tall black rubber snow boots. Her coat was bulky black fur that reached down to her knees. Granny concluded it looked like a good undercover disguise. No one would know it was Mavis underneath all that bulk. Granny, on the other hand, stood out like a red thumb with her pink coat, purple boots and red bomber hat.
“Nice duds,” Granny complimented Mavis, trying to keep from laughing at the picture Mavis presented in her winter outfit.
“They’re George’s. It’s called undercover. No one will know who I am; they’ll think I’m George.”
“Good thinking. Maybe they’ll arrest George instead of you if we get caught.” She led Mavis to the snowmobile.
“How do I get on this thing?” Mavis asked, looking the machine over.
“Just plop down behind me.”
“Where’s the seat belt?” Mavis asked, positioning her body behind Granny.
“I’m your seatbelt. Hold on.”
Mavis grabbed Granny tightly.
“Mavis, I didn’t say squeeze the life out of me.”
The hands that gripped Granny around the waist loosened a little.
“Here we go, hold on.” Granny instructed.
“Where we going?” Mavis asked, as the blowing snow flew into her face.
“Back to the crime scene.”
“We’re going to the cemetery?” Mavis yelled over the wind.
“No, we’re going to old Mrs. Periwinkle’s former house, the one that’s now owned by Neil Nail,” Granny yelled back.
“That’s the last crime scene. You solved that one.”
“Yes, but the new dead stiff was renting that house and I want to find out why he’s investigating me. No one else seems to be concerned about that little tidbit.”
Mavis was silent, concerned that while Granny was talking, the snowmobile was weaving in and out of some trees. Granny had decided to take the back way by Blue Bird Lake where there was no path, but they would come upon Neil’s back yard unseen from the street.
Granny slowed down when she neared Neil’s back yard. She pulled up by the garage on the back of the property and indicated Mavis should get off. Granny cut the engine on the snowmobile and joined Mavis who was now gazing at the house.
“Um. Granny, how do you plan to get in?”
“Maybe the doors are unlocked. Remember last time the basement window was unlatched.”
Mavis looked doubtful and pointed out to Granny, “That was a fluke and if this guy was a private investigator and he’s dead, the police have probably been here and locked it up tight.”
“Where’s your adventuresome spirit?” Granny asked Mavis as she walked back to the snowmobile and pulled out her shovel. “See these tiny prongs on the bottom. I bet we can pick the lock.”
“You know how to pick locks?”
“Um, no. But there’s always a first time for everything. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. If you believe you can do it, anything’s possible. If…”
Granny was about to add something more, but Mavis put her hand up to still Granny’s recitation. “All right, all right; I get the point.”
“Mavis.” Granny gave her a confused look. “There’s no point. I don’t have my knitting needle cane.” Granny shook her head and moved through the snow to the back door, indicating Mavis should follow.
First Granny tried the knob. It didn’t turn. She peered at the deadbolt lock halfway up the door. She reached to the bottom of her shovel cover and pulled out the spike that apparently was made to unscrew from the bottom of the shovel cover. She took the narrow sharp object and inserted it in the door lock, turned it and leaned her entire little body into the door.
Mavis watched, skeptical that this would work.
As Granny leaned into the door, it opened and Granny fell forward, straight into the arms of Silas Crickett.
“Fallin’ for me are ya, Granny?” Silas cackled. “I thought you only fell for Franklin,” referring to the fact that Granny had fallen into Franklin’s arms the first time they had met.
“How did you know that?” Granny sputtered, pulling herself away from Silas, grabbing the wall for support. Realizing that Silas was here when he wasn’t supposed to be, she quickly forgot about her first question. “What are you doing here and how did you get in and why did your annoying bird have my birth certificate? I’m calling the police.” Granny reached in her pocket to get her cell phone.
Mavis quickly entered the house and put a hand over Granny’s mouth before she could bark into the cell phone “Police Station” and start the cell phone dialing system.
A muffled sound came from Granny’s covered mouth.
“Granny, you can’t call the police. We’re not supposed to be here either.” Mavis grabbed the shovel out of Granny’s hands and held it in front of her. Grabbing Granny, she pushed her behind her, keeping the shovel centered on Silas. Silas watched all this with an amused grin.
“Silas, what are doing here? You’re usually so nice. Are you a villain?” Mavis pleaded for an answer from Silas.
Granny pushed Mavis out of the way and walked up to Silas, nose to nose. “I told you he was despicable. You didn’t believe me about Mr. Supercilious.”
Silas grabbed both of them by the arm, catching Mavis off guard. Mavis dropped the shovel. He propelled them further into the kitchen of the house. “Will you two be quiet? Someone’s going to know we’re here if you two don’t keep the lid on it.” He smiled at Mavis. “Mavis, dear, I’m on your side. I’m just trying to help your dear friend, Granny, even if she is the most stubborn, persnickety, crabby old woman I have ever met.”
Granny pulled away from Silas. “You can leave now Supercilious. We have work to do and how did you get in?” Granny asked wrinkling her forehead.
Silas held up a key and with a smirk, quietly said, “I have the key to the lake door. I came in through the basement and the tunnel,” referring to the underground old tornado shelter room and the underground cavern and tunnel that led to the lake.
Silas walked through the door to the living room and stopped by the desk. He picked up a three-ring notebook and held it up. “I believe this is what you’re looking for.” He tossed the notebook to Granny.
Granny caught the notebook and motioned Mavis to join her on the couch. One by one, she paged through the documents and pictures. “This is my life, Silas, my entire life, from birth till now. Why is it here and how did you get it? And how did Radish get my birth certificate? The police must have been here.”
“Actually, I don’t think they checked the tunnel,” said Silas. “Must have thought it didn’t have anything to do with the death of Mr. Private Investigator, Felix Smart. I stumbled over it as I was walking through the old tornado shelter yesterday when I knew the coast was clear. I took it back home to study it. Radish must have stolen your birth certificate in one of his snits. He loves to tear paper.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” Granny reminded him.
“I’m bored. I came to Fuchsia to rest up. I thought it was a quiet little town in Minnesota that had s
now in the winter so it would remind me of Alaska. I wanted to spend some time with my son. If I had spent more time with Cornelius maybe he wouldn’t have ended up where he is today. I blame myself, so I moved here after I retired. After my last case, I needed a new perspective,” Silas explained uncharacteristically serious and with a low toned voice. “I miss the thrill of the chase and I sense when something isn’t right. I knew my son and Thor would be at the cemetery digging up your husband’s grave so they wouldn’t be here and I wanted to bring the book back. I was curious why it ended up where it did and not upstairs.”
The words “husband’s grave” got Granny’s attention. “They didn’t tell me. Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. They didn’t tell you. Thor wants to keep you safe and Franklin wants to turn you into a mellow woman.” Silas pointed out a fact that had been weighing on Granny’s mind.
“He does not,” Mavis piped up. “He likes her as she is.”
Silas got a gleam in his eye, “Ah, does he?”
“You’re changing the subject,” said Granny. “I knew nothing about them digging up a grave.”
“Apparently, word at the police station is that someone else was there again. They brought their own warming blanket and had it half thawed out. They must have gotten interrupted since the blanket was still there this morning and there were shovel marks where they had tried to shovel the hard dirt. Someone is desperate, maybe the same someone who locked you up in the mausoleum,” Silas reminded Granny.
Giving Silas a shrewd look, Granny asked, “We’re off the subject. How did you get the key to get in here?”
“I wasn’t undercover all those years for nothing. I stole from the evidence drawer in the police station.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re investigating the dead stiff private investigator,” Granny pointed out.
“Granny, Granny, Granny. You’re the female version of me. Not only did I want to return the history of your life, I knew you’d show up here if you didn’t think anyone was watching you. You need my help. Let’s all team up and work on this together. No one will suspect. After all, you don’t like me and I don’t like you. We drive each other crazy but….we are both cunning; they think we’re old. We can solve this and find out who’s robbing the graves.”
3 Granny Snows A Sneak Page 11
