Frozen Identity

by Sharon Mierke

  “Hi, Charlie,” I called out as I neared the bench. I’m never sure what mood he is in so I like to give him a little warning that I’m coming. He didn’t say anything, which believe it or not, is a good sign. Some folks get upset if they call his name and he gets up and walks away. All that means is that he doesn’t want to talk. It is not an insult.

  “Charlie,” I said. “How are you? Did you make it through that awful storm okay?”

  He didn’t answer for about thirty seconds, which seems like a long time when you’re waiting, but I’ve learned to keep silent and wait.

  “I’m here, Mabel.”

  I laughed. “You’re right. I guess if you’re here, you made it through all right.”

  His lips twitched. That means Charlie has smiled. Or, even laughed.

  “I know you heard about the murder. Did you know that the fellow who died wasn’t Flori's cousin?”

  Another silence. Finally, he said, “I didn’t know that.”

  “Did you happen to see him while he was in Parson’s Cove, Charlie?”

  Silence. He nodded.

  “You did see him? What was he doing?”

  Charlie started to slowly rock back and forth. As soon as he gets a little anxious, he rocks. I have learned over the years, to keep my conversations brief and to stop when he wants to stop.

  I said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it now. We can talk another day.” I stood up. I don’t know how Charlie can sit on that ice-cold bench every day. My bum was so cold I'd lost feeling in it. I should have worn the old muskrat coat but I didn’t want to get too attached to the ugly thing. It was disappointing that he didn’t want to talk but I knew I could get more information next time so I started to walk away.

  “There was a big fight,” he said.

  You can imagine how quickly I spun around and went back. I sat down beside him because Charlie doesn’t like looking up at people from the bench when he talks.

  “Was it a real bad fight?”

  He nodded.

  “Where were they?”

  He’d started to rock again. It can be a bit disconcerting but I waited.

  “Behind the beer parlor,” he whispered.

  I imagine in the city, it would be called a lounge or something fancy. Parson’s Cove’s beer parlor is in the hotel. Years ago, only men were allowed to go in but now it’s for men and women. Flori said it was decorated quite nicely but I have never gone inside. She only knows because Jake talked her into going when new owners renovated. That was about thirty years ago. Hopefully, they have redecorated since then.

  “Did Junior kill him, Charlie?”

  The rocking got more erratic. He didn’t say anything.

  After several minutes, I said, “That’s okay. You don’t have to answer. We can talk another day, Charlie.”

  I was about ten feet down the sidewalk when Charlie called out.

  “Not Junior,” he said.

  I hurried back to the bench.

  “Junior didn’t fight him? Who did then?”

  He shrugged. “Too dark to see, Mabel. I was scared so I ran away.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t Junior?”

  Charlie started to rock fast now and I didn’t want to upset him.

  I patted him on the shoulder and said, “Thanks, Charlie. You’ve been a big help. Don’t worry, you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  As I walked away, I was hoping to hear him call me back but all I heard was snow crunching under my feet.

  Chapter Twelve

  That was such encouraging news, I wanted to share it with Flori; however, I decided against it. It would only get her hopes up. This did not exonerate her son. Charlie Thompson was not a good witness candidate. He might tell me something but refuse to repeat it to anyone else. I believed him and I knew he saw what he saw. Charlie will only talk if he is very sure about it. If it was dark, could he have made an honest mistake?

  If I hadn’t needed to go home to feed all those cats of mine, I would have walked straight over to the police station. It was definitely time to have a serious talk with Jake Junior. In fact, I was getting more than a little peeved with him. If he didn’t fight with Victor, why didn’t he tell Reg that?

  Of course, there was the matter of locking someone in the fish shack, wasn’t there? Perhaps, if he were only guilty of that and not the beating, the judge or jury would go easier on him. I felt a rage welling up in me just thinking about Jakie Junior’s stupidity. At least, that raised my blood pressure and kept me warm as I trudged through the snow.

  I opened the door and five cats stood facing me with their tails straight up in the air. Most of the tails were twitching. All the cats were talking at once. By the sounds of it, they were whining that I was ten minutes late. Or, they were tired of eating dried generic cat food. Or, their litter boxes were smelly. Those cats complain about everything in life.

  “All right, all of you. You’ve been inside being lazy all day so get outside and get some fresh air.”

  For once, they all obeyed and rushed out the door. I knew, however, that in about five minutes, they would be standing on the step, lifting one cold paw up after another, crying to get back inside.

  I removed my layers of clothing and pulled my boots off. The cats were already meowing at the door.

  The moment I let them in and shut the door, the complaining started all over again. There is no way of pleasing those animals and it is hard to avoid them because they insist on trying to walk around your legs and inside your shoes. Before I cared for their needs, I decided to tend to myself and get my supper started. Four of them continued to voice their opinions, probably grumbling about the other members of the family. Phyl, the mother and my favorite, left the room to curl up on the sofa. I am sure she must be very disappointed in her brood most of the time.

  As I was trying to get my supper started while stepping around and over cats, the phone rang.

  It was Reg.

  “Mabel, I’ve been in contact with the warden where Victor Fleming was being held. He’s only been there for the past year but he did some investigating for me. You were right; Flori’s cousin was murdered while in prison. They never did find the person who killed him even though they were in a lockdown for about two weeks. Nobody wants to be a snitch, you know. It was not made public knowledge because it’s not good publicity if inmates murder each other in their cells. There was only a brief notification in a local newspaper. The family was informed but no one claimed the body so the State buried him. He had no funeral, no marker for the grave - nothing. Anyway, I'm going over to talk to the warden tomorrow.”

  “And I have some news for you, Reg. Charlie says he saw Victor, or whatever his name was, in a big fight behind the beer parlor. He says it wasn’t Jake Junior who beat him up though.”

  “So, who does he say it was?”

  “You know Charlie. He didn't know who it was but then he stopped talking, so I’ll talk to him tomorrow again. You said you're going to talk to the warden?”

  “Yep. Other than the murder, things are slow so Scully can spend the day watching the prisoner.”

  “Well, I was thinking that it’s pretty slow here too. What if I trail along?”

  Reg hesitated for a few seconds before answering so I was prepared for his reply.

  “No, they might think that’s kind of weird, Mabel. I’ll let you know what we find out.” Then, perhaps to make me feel better, he said, “By the way, the fingerprint results came back and the body in the morgue is definitely not Victor Fleming. We should have a match soon because his prints will be in the database. At least, we know he was a criminal so we should be able to find out his identity soon.”

  “That’s great, Reg, and don’t worry. I have lots to do here. By the way, they’d better find out who killed Flori’s cousin. Even though she didn’t like him, it would be good to know what happened. I’ll tell you one thing, I hope whoever did it is still in jail. Otherwise, ther
e’s another murderer running loose in the streets.”

  “All right, Mabel, I’ll check with you when I get back. Let’s hope Charlie will tell us what he saw.”

  Reg had hardly hung up and the phone rang again. This time it was Flori.

  Of course, it was hard to keep my mouth shut. In spite of good intentions, my mouth sometimes takes over.

  “Flori, I wasn’t going to tell you this because I didn’t want you to get your hopes up but I’ve decided to tell you anyway. Charlie says it wasn’t Junior fighting with Victor.”

  “I thought it wasn’t Victor.”

  “Well, we’ll call him Victor for the time being. By the way, Jake said Victor started calling himself Andrew about ten years ago. It was actually eight years but that’s neither here nor there. What I want to know is if Jake or you ever saw him after he started to call himself by his second name?”

  “I know that I didn’t. It’s been years since we’ve seen any of that family. Once the parents passed away, no one kept in touch. Just a minute, I’ll ask Jake if he happened to see him somewhere.” Without putting her hand over the receiver, she yelled for her husband. I put the phone about a foot away from my ear. I’m not sure how far away Jake was but I could hear him very clearly.

  “No, all I ever got were phone calls about once a year from that (very bad swear word) asking for money.”

  Flori started to repeat Jake’s reply. Before she reached the very inappropriate words, I interrupted.

  “That’s okay, Flori. I heard what he said. So, how does Jake know he wanted to be called Andrew then?”

  Once again, Flori yelled in my ear, repeating my question.

  “Because he said he only wanted nice crisp twenty dollar bills and he wanted them mailed to Andrew Fleming. That’s what that (very bad swear word) said to me. It would be a day when hell freezes over that I would send that (very bad swear word) anything.”

  Before Flori started to repeat his words, I said, “I hope you realize, Flori, that if one of your kids ever used words like that, they would have been beaten to a pulp.”

  “I know but Jake is under so much stress. Anyway, I will tell him what Charlie said, although Jake doesn’t put much credibility to anything he says.” She whispered, “Jake is a little prejudiced about certain people.”

  “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Anyways, I am sure Jake has some endearing qualities. When you figure some out you can let me know.”

  That, of course, sent Flori into a laughing fit, which normally would have ended up in tears. She is the only person I know who can be laughing one moment and sobbing, the next. That is, under normal circumstances. Sadly, we were still being abnormal so Flori laughed and said, “You’re so funny, Mabel.” And that was that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  At eight, I phoned the police station to see if Reg was there. Although I was quite certain Reg wouldn’t mind if I talked to Junior, there was a part of me that still hesitated. It was a new experience cooperating with the sheriff. It seemed we’d been on the same side of the Law for many years but always working from opposite corners. It took some adjusting to get used to our new relationship. I imagine if we hadn’t had a stranger for sheriff for a couple of weeks, we might still be going our separate ways. It was a good wakeup call for Parson's Cove too. The naysayers will think twice about making fun of our little police force.

  I called the police station and Scully answered.

  “I thought that if it was okay with you, I’d come over and visit with Junior,” I said. “I’ll only stay a few minutes and I can bring over some fresh muffins for you and your prisoner.”

  Country and western music blared in the background.

  “Hey, Mabel, that would be great,” he yelled in my ear. “It gets pretty boring here. You got any of those cranberry muffins?”

  It’s a good thing I keep a variety in my freezer. I have a feeling everyone in Parson’s Cove thinks all I do on Mondays is bake muffins which is close to the truth.

  “I do,” I yelled back. “Do you have decent coffee over there?”

  “Just a minute, I can’t hear you.” The music went down several decibels. “What did you say, Mabel?”

  “That’s better. Reg lets you blare music like that? What if you had a call from someone important?”

  “Like who? The only person close to being important phoning or visiting here is the mayor.”

  “Mayor Pollock phones and visits you? Why?”

  “Aw, he’s always checking on Jake Junior. I think he’s trying to get Junior to start talking but it’s not working. So, anyway, what were you asking me, Mabel?”

  I’d almost forgotten myself. “Oh, yes, the coffee. Is your coffee at the station any good? Reg seems to enjoy drinking mine every day.”

  “Yeah, right. I guess he would. Ours tastes like dishwater. Reg always bought the cheapest brand he could find. When he retired, we still had cans of it so Jim didn't think we should throw it out. I hope he doesn't end up like Reg. You know, being a cheapskate. I mean it's okay for Reg because he always stops and has coffee with you but Jim and I have to drink this awful stuff. You got any of your good coffee you could bring over?”

  “I do. What about cream and sugar?”

  “We've got that powdered creamer. There's lots of sugar though.”

  “All right, I’ll be over with muffins, coffee, and some fresh cream.”

  After thanking me three times, I told him he was welcome and I hung up.

  I was almost out the door when my phone rang again. Sometimes I’m thankful that Flori talked me into having call display. It was Nathan and I knew if I did not answer, he’d probably go looking for me. He was getting almost as protective of me as he was of his own mother.

  “So, Mabel, what’s happening tonight?”

  “Does something always have to be happening, Nathan?”

  I could hear the grin in his voice. “There always is with you.”

  My turn to grin. “You flatter me. How do you know I'm not sitting at home, knitting?”

  “Ha! Not with a murder to solve, Mabel Wickles. There’s no way you’d be sitting at home until the mystery was solved and the killer behind bars. So, what are we checking out tonight?”

  “We are not checking anything out. I happen to be going over to the jail to have a little chat with Jake Junior.”

  “For real? I knew you were doing something important. Can I come? I will sit and be very quiet. Honest, Mabel, I won’t say a word. Can I?”

  “I don’t know what Reg would say, Nathan. He might not want me bringing someone else.”

  “Ha, are you kidding? I’ve already solved some of the mystery. And, think of all the help I’ve given you with your computer. You can remind Sheriff Smee that I was deeply involved in solving the last murder so I think I should be given a little credit for that. What do you say, Mabel?”

  Even though I wasn’t looking into those puppy dog eyes of his, I could see them in my mind. Plus, in many ways, I am a real softy.

  “Quit whining, Nathan. You can come if you want to stay with Scully while I talk to Junior. Maybe you can find out some things from him. Junior might have confided in him and since Scully will be eating my muffins and drinking my coffee, it might loosen his tongue.”

  Before I could think of an excuse, Nathan said he would come over to help carry things for me. After all, it was only a five-minute walk to my house. I was actually glad I did accept his offer because when we stepped outside, I was surprised at how much the wind had picked up and how awkward it was trying to balance all my goodies.

  “I think the weather girl said there’s a Colorado low heading our way,” Nathan said as we rounded the corner of my house and got the full brunt of it.

  “I'll tell you, I’m getting a little tired of Colorado, Nathan.”

  Neither of us said a word all the way to the Police Station. It would have been pointless anyway because the wind would have whipped whatever we said away. We could see
the snow swirling under the streetlights and we could feel the bite of it as it hit our faces. The temperature wasn't quite as cold but the wind-chill made up for any change in temperature. We both wrapped our scarves around our faces and pressed on. Those three blocks felt like three miles.

  The lights were shining brightly in the station and as we got closer, we could see Scully sitting at one of the desks with his feet up and his face buried in a Sports Illustrated magazine. Knowing Scully the way I do, I was sure he wasn’t keeping up with the latest football or hockey stats. The only sport that interests him is fishing and maybe, women in bathing suits.

  I was proved correct when we opened the door and the wind whipped it back up against the building with a loud bang. Scully jumped up, grabbed for his empty gun holster, and the Sports Illustrated went flying through the air. It landed on the floor with Miss December staring up at us with not much more on than a few boughs of holly.

  I must admit that Scully has always been one of my favorite cops. If he worked in the city where the crime rate outranked the birth rate, everyone would call him a maverick. Whenever I tend to get a bit carried away with my crime solving and turn to more unconventional methods, Scully usually covers for me. He always has a twinkle in his eye whenever he sees me. Tonight, however, he did not. He looked tired. It didn't help that he needed a haircut and a shave.

  Nathan and I stamped the snow off our feet and walked over to the desk to set down the thermos of coffee and all the other bags that we had brought.

  The Parson’s Cove police station was not big. There was a waiting room where Scully and Jim each had a desk and there were several chairs along the wall for visitors. Now, with Jim being the new sheriff, it looked like Scully had moved over to Jim's old desk.

  To the right, through a closed door, was Reg’s old office. That was his sanctuary and in it, he had an old wooden desk and a comfortable soft leather chair. The door was closed so I couldn't see if Jim had replaced anything. It would've been hard for Reg to part with that chair.