Bones, Booze & Bouquets

by Marianne Spitzer

  “Maybe,” I answered.

  Hmm, I think my daughter is back. I hope this version stays all summer.

  “I also made a chocolate cake. Should we invite Aunt Irene?” Laci asked me just before she bent over to place a dish in the dishwasher.

  “I’ll text her,” I answered and added, “I brought you some dessert, too.”

  I walked over to the chair where I dropped my purse and the bakery box then texted my aunt. I carried the box back to the kitchen and handed it to Laci.

  Her eyes opened wide and said, “Mmm, it’s from Betsy’s. She makes the best sweets.” She pulled off the thin gold ribbon holding the box closed and squealed. “I love cupcakes. It is almost too pretty to eat.”

  Hoping my next statement wouldn’t destroy the mood in the house, I said, “It’s a sample for my wedding. Clark and I decided on cupcakes instead of a layer cake.”

  “That’s great, Mom. Cupcakes are more popular now. Your wedding will be fantastic.”

  I might have fallen to the floor in shock if not for the knocking at the patio door that broke into my thoughts. I turned and saw my aunt waving at me.

  I waved back as I walked to the door and let her in. She carried Peanut in her arms, and her little dog began barking wildly.

  “Don’t put her down yet,” I gasped stopping her from setting the small dog on the floor. “Laci brought a kitten home. We better introduce them first. The kitten and Yummy get along. Let’s see about Peanut.”

  The kitten had walked to the edge of the sofa and Yummy lifted his head. His tiny tail wagged when he saw Peanut, but he didn’t jump up to play. He placed a paw over the kitten. I’m not sure if he’s protecting her or keeping her from jumping off the sofa.

  Aunt Irene knelt next to the kitten and let Peanut sniff her. The kitten playfully batted at Peanut, and I prayed she wouldn’t try and eat the kitten. To my surprise, Peanut nuzzled the kitten. Aunt Irene set her on the sofa, and both Peanut and Yummy cuddled up the way they usually do, but now the small kitten snuggled up between them.

  “Maybe,” Aunt Irene mused as she got to her feet, “The dogs know that kitten will be as big as them soon. Best to make friends now.”

  She smiled. “Your text mentioned chocolate cake.”

  “Yes, Laci baked,” I answered, and we headed toward the kitchen where Laci was slicing three big pieces of cake and placing them on plates.

  “Hi, Aunt Irene. Try some cake. It’s mom’s recipe. I hope you like it,” Laci said sliding her chair closer to the table.

  “I’m sure I will. It looks delicious,” Aunt Irene answered.

  “Where’s Uncle Lyle,” I asked. “I noticed his car isn’t parked out front.” I took a bite of cake and thought this cake is better than mine.

  “He went over to his house to work on the time machine for a while. He misses working on his inventions.” Aunt Irene cut a small bite of cake with her fork.

  I nearly choked on my cake.

  Laci asked, “Time machine, what time machine?”

  I stammered, “Aunt Irene, he can’t do that. After the explosion, he promised the Fire Chief he wouldn’t make another time machine.”

  “Don’t worry, Annie, he’s decided the best way is to break into the time-space continuum or whatever he called it is with a phone line. He thinks he can call the past. It gives him something to do, and the doctor says using his hands helps his arthritis. He promised no more explosives.”

  Laci’s eyes flitted between Aunt Irene and me as we spoke. She stopped eating and sat with her mouth open. Finally, she stuttered, “Explosion?”

  I twisted my lip and took a deep breath trying to explain this. “Before your aunt married Uncle Lyle he lived at his house a few blocks from here. He wanted to build a time machine. He only planned on a trial run and had a barbecue grill style propane tank attached to a plastic garbage dumpster. Something went wrong; the tank exploded, and the dumpster caught fire and flew out of the garage roof. It melted in the middle of the street. The garage caught fire, but he has a sprinkler system, and they saved the house.”

  I slid a large piece of cake into my mouth and began to chew. Laci finally acted like a member of the family again. Would she think her new uncle was crazy the way his own children did and stop speaking again? I sat and waited.

  Laci burst into laughter. “That’s hilarious. I’m glad no one was hurt, but I wish I’d seen the flying dumpster. He fits right into our family. Anyone want another slice of cake?”

  Another possible disaster averted. Maybe a job and feeling a bit of freedom was all she needed. Please, God, let this problem with my daughter be over finally.

  ~ * ~

  The previous evening had been wonderful Laci seemed to enjoy being with me and Aunt Irene. When Uncle Lyle returned home, he popped over and told Laci about his time machine over a piece of cake. The sound of her laughter filled the house. Aunt Irene whispered to me that all I needed to give Laci was time.

  Yummy was back to being my bedmate. Laci wanted both animals to sleep in her room, but an hour later she scooted Yummy out claiming the two made too much noise playing. I’m happy with that.

  I had a few customers, and all had questions about the body I found at the mansion. By lunchtime, I was tired of telling the story. I decided to close for a while and see if there was anything I could find at the flower shop.

  Lizzy smiled when I walked in the door. “Hi, Annie. I’m happy to see you. I’ve had a lot of customers this morning. Everyone was glad the shop is open again. Do you need some flowers?”

  “No, I thought maybe you and I could take some time and look in your basement. Maybe whoever left those accounting books hid something the police missed.”

  “Do you think so,” she asked walking around the side of the counter. “Let me lock the front door, and we’ll look. I appreciate your help.”

  We walked down the stairs, and Lizzy stopped at the bottom and gasped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Look at this mess?”

  “Wow, I know the police were looking for evidence, but I didn’t think they’d tear things apart this way.”

  Lizzy pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “They didn’t. When Carolyn said they would pay for any damage, I came down here and took pictures. Look, this is how it looked last night when I went home.”

  I scrolled through the pictures on her phone and while the basement was a bit messed up, it wasn’t the disaster that we looked at now.

  “Someone besides the police looked for something,” I suggested. “Did you notice if the doors were tampered with at all?”

  Lizzy shook her head. “No, both doors were locked. I hope no one has a key. The locks are old. I wonder if my dad changed them when he bought the place. Back then people didn’t worry much about break-ins. I can imagine he thought the locks were fine since he had the keys. Oh, Annie, who would do this?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I knew what they were looking for. It would help us.”

  Lizzy walked around and said, “This is nothing but junk. It should be thrown away. I don’t see anything important.”

  I looked around and didn’t see anything either. Maybe whoever broke in took what they were searching for and left this mess. “Lizzy, you need to report this to the police. You had a break-in even if nothing was stolen. Maybe the police will watch over the place a bit better now.”

  Lizzy agreed and placed the call. We returned upstairs to wait for the officer. Ten minutes later Detective Grim Reaper walked in. Just looking at the man made me shudder.

  The detective looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Why am I not surprised to find you at the scene of a break-in where we discovered evidence in a murder case, Mrs. Ryan.”

  I stared right back and said, “I had nothing to do with the death of the man found in the mansion basement, and you know it. I don’t appreciate your accusatory tone.”

  He smiled, and it made his demeanor more frightening than without it. “Perhaps. Just remembe
r not to leave town. Now, tell me about what happened.”

  I sat and Lizzy explained the situation. He took notes, walked down to the basement, looked at the door locks, and said if he learned anything he’d let Lizzy know.

  Lizzy sat and rubbed her forehead. “That man gives me the creeps. I have the feeling he thinks were both guilty of something but he hasn’t decided on what yet.”

  Lizzy had a good point. I suggested she change the locks and while she called the locksmith, I texted Georgie:

  Someone broke into the flower shop last night.

  They trashed the basement looking.

  I think we’re on the right track.

  She texted back:

  Agreed. Talk later.

  Busy with the lunch crowd.

  Lizzy sat next to me and said, “He’ll be right over. I’m not sure what good it will do if whoever broke in found what they looked for, but at least I know they won’t get back in again.”

  “Good idea. Are you all right? I should get back to the bookstore, but I need to stop at the stationery shop first. The wedding planner said invitations were at the top of my to-do list and I need to do that today.” I stood and picked up my purse slinging it over my shoulder.

  “I’m good. I plan to close after the locksmith leaves and go home to explain the situation to mom. Whoever broke in here might try to get into the house. If I had any idea what they were looking for, I could look and turn it over to the police. This situation unnerves me.”

  I hugged her tight and suggested she might want to have some motion detected security lights added to ease her mom’s fears and possibly a security camera or two. She said she’d ask the locksmith who he’d recommend and I hurried to the stationery shop.

  Mrs. Waterson owned the Heavenly Stationery Shoppe. Before she retired, she taught high school English and was my teacher in junior and senior year. Her tiny frame appeared more foreboding in high school, and I swear her hair was always that soft shade of gray. She retired the year after I graduated and opened her store. I wonder if she knew who owned the building before Lizzy’s dad.

  “Good Afternoon, Mrs. Waterson,” I called out to the woman at the other end of the store.

  “I’m not deaf, Annie Ryan,” she answered in her most stern school teacher voice. She looked me straight in the eye; I cringed, and she laughed. “I can still get to you after all these years. That’s good to know, dear. What can I do for you today?”

  I released the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and asked about wedding invitations.

  Mrs. Waterson asked a few simple questions about the date, time, place, names and anything else I wanted to add.

  I explained Clark and I wanted to keep it simple, and she typed out a lovely short invitation that covered all the information I gave her. She placed a large book of invitation samples on the counter and opened it to a section containing elegant yet understated invitations. All of them were single color without added words or designs. I saw one that tugged at my heart. A simple design of two raised intertwined hearts. No extra colors or images, just the raised hearts. Perfect. I chose the light pink card stock and placed the order for the invitations and reply cards.

  Mrs. Waterson said, “Excellent choice for a second marriage, my dear. I’ll call you when they arrive. Did you need thank you cards?”

  Did I? “I’m sure I will, but I don’t know how many.”

  “Order as many as you did the invitations. If you have extra, you will have lovely note cards. If you need more you can reorder or buy a package of plain cards,” she explained while writing down the order.

  “Thank you, that’s a great idea.” I slipped my credit card back in my wallet and turned to leave but turned back. “You know you’re invited, don’t you?”

  “Me?” She pressed her hand to her chest.

  “Of course, if not for you I never would’ve decided on what college to attend or what to major in. Because of your support, I’m writing the great American novel.”

  She laughed. “Aren’t we all, but I’d love to read what you’ve written thus far.”

  I waved as I left walking on a cloud. I can scratch one thing off my to-do list, and the world’s greatest English teacher wants to read my half-finished manuscript. Life is good.

  Chapter Nine

  The next week and a half flew by quickly. Laci was pleasant and happy with her job at Lou’s Diner. Georgie, Laci, Beth Ann and I had a group fitting with Miss Faith and Joy. They'll have the girl’s dresses done in less than a week. Georgie took hers home since the alterations were complete. Miss Faith said two more appointments and I would have my dress. My wedding day is drawing closer, and I’m excited.

  Lizzy called me and said that Detective Wilton called her to let her know there wasn’t any reason for her to be concerned about the break-in and it was likely just teenagers looking for money or something of value to steal. Neither Lizzy nor I believed his conclusions but at least he would leave her alone, we hoped.

  Georgie and I knew there was more going on and we intended to continue our investigation. The next part of our plan was to talk to the lodge guys at Corners Bar.

  Georgie and I met outside Corners Bar at eight o’clock. Uncle Lyle told me the lodge meeting usually ended before eight and the men walked to the bar for a beer or two before going home. I hoped we’d find someone who’d remember who owned the building where Fred’s Flowers now did business.

  When we walked in and were met by several wolf whistles, Georgie whispered, “I hate lodge night. These older fellas love to whistle and flirt.”

  “They’re harmless and sweet,” I countered.

  “Last time Paul and I were here, old Mr. Abernathy proposed to me. He told me to leave Paul and come live with him. Paul laughed thinking it was funny.”

  “Aww, you have an admirer. If he’s here tonight, he might talk to us. Let’s look for him.”

  “Let’s not.”

  “Come on, flirt back a little for the cause. There he is at the table in the back. The poor man is all alone.”

  I strode toward Mr. Abernathy’s table while Georgie tried to pull on my blouse to stop me.

  “Hi,” I said to the white-haired man, and he grinned when he saw Georgie.

  “Hello, pretty ladies,” he answered and looked straight at Georgie. “I see you left your husband at home. Finally decided to take me up on my offer?” He winked at Georgie, and I had to grab her arm to keep her from bolting.

  I sat down on the chair next to him and asked if he’d like a beer.

  “No, thanks. One is my limit, and I’m still working on this one.”

  Georgie sat, and Mr. Abernathy stared at her for a long minute before asking, “I’d love to have you marry me, but I think you love your husband. I can see it in your eyes. If you didn’t come in here to run away with me, why are you here.”

  “Mr. Abernathy,” I said. “I have a question, and I think you might know the answer.”

  “Shoot, kid. What do you want to know?”

  “You know where Fred’s Flowers is?”

  “Yeah,” he said taking a sip of his beer.

  “Do you remember who owned it before Fred bought it?”

  “Let me think. That was a while ago. I believe that it sat empty for about ten years.”

  “I heard that, but someone must have owned the building.”

  “Yeah, sure. Now I remember. There was a small pharmacy there. It was before Corners Pharmacy opened. Felix was the pharmacist until he fell off a ladder fixing his roof and broke his neck.”

  “I see. Then the building sat empty until Fred bought it.”

  “Yup.”

  “Do you remember Felix’s last name?”

  He nodded. “Felix Scrumbly. Everyone knows that.”

  I looked at Georgie, and she paled. We both knew what this meant.

  “Mr. Abernathy, is Felix Scrumbly related to the mayor?”

  He finished his beer and nodded. “Yup, he was his grandpa.”

&nbs
p; “Interesting. One more thing. I heard a rumor Amos Quigley sold moonshine. Is any of that true.”

  He stared at me.

  “I’m writing a story about the town,” I lied. “I’m curious about all the people.”

  “I’d like to read that when you’re done. To answer your question, the Quigley family has been in the moonshine business for as long as anyone knows. I heard Amos made a lot of money during prohibition, but the family preferred to live on that property in the woods. Last time I heard, his grandson Bart still lives up there.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Abernathy,” Georgie finally spoke. “This will help Annie write a much better book. Are you sure you don’t want another beer?”

  “Nope, but I’ll take an order of onion rings.”

  Georgie and I stood, “Thanks, sir, I’ll have them bring you an order right away.” I shook his hand, and he winked at Georgie.

  I paid for Mr. Abernathy’s onion rings on the way out and pulled Georgie with me.

  “What do you think?” Georgie asked.

  “I think we need to investigate the mayor’s family tree. The police believe Fred hid those books and was connected to the body in my cellar. If the FS in the books is Felix Scrumbly, then he’s involved. A pharmacist involved in bootlegging is better than a fiction story. If the mayor is aware of all of this, it might account for him wanting to keep the shop closed. I think there might be more evidence hidden. We need to look in that basement.”

  Georgie stopped walking and looked at me. “If you’re right, why would the mayor allow you to get your wedding decorations?”

  “That’s a good question. Maybe he knew if I had my decorations, I’d leave it alone. Remember Lizzy said Lucas convinced the judge to release the shop. Mayor Scrumbly wanted to keep it closed.”

  We stopped next to Georgie’s car. She leaned against her car door and suggested, “If the mayor’s family made part of their money from bootleg booze, I don’t think he’d try and hide it. It wasn’t his crime, and he can’t be held responsible for his grandfather’s crimes.”

  “True, but it could tarnish his reputation. He might not be re-elected. People have killed for less than saving their reputation. If he was worried enough to try to keep the shop closed in case there was more evidence, he might be responsible for…”