by Misty Simon
“Murder! We’re talking about murder!”
“Riiiight.” He drew out the word and smiled.
“So we have no suspects, a dead man with a stake in his chest, and an old woman who says she smacked him on the head with a trowel but has to have you come over to kill a spider the size of a baby pea. I’m not sure that’s much to work with.”
Ben sat back with his arms crossed over his flat stomach. “We have more than that. We have that the police have no idea, the judge was sneaking around Myrt’s place in some capacity, and the fact no one reported him missing. So it must have been recent. He had to have either gone there to talk to Myrt or was invited by someone else who chose Myrt’s place to talk since it was safer. That’s not a bad start.”
Not when he put it that way; the problem, though, might be finishing.
****
We went our separate ways after lunch and a little more messing around. The man was insatiable. Then again, so was I, so who was I to complain?
Back to the store for me, where I relieved Charlie of his duties so he and Debbie could go on some kind of picnic or something. I was happy they’d found each other. Charlie deserved someone who got him and loved him for exactly who he was.
Sending him out the door, I saw him get in the car with Debbie. I so wanted to go out and ask her what they’d found out about the victim, and if they had any real suspects. I thought it was better not to tip my hand. I still wasn’t certain I wanted to get involved, but then again those claws of curiosity were digging deeper and deeper with every hour that passed. They’d be bone deep at any moment now.
Who would want to kill the judge? What would it gain them? Had he promised someone something he couldn’t or wouldn’t deliver on? Was he being bribed and when he didn’t think it was enough, the briber got the better of him when he asked for too much?
All those questions flew out of my head when Mr. Hanks came strolling into the Masked Shoppe. Did I really miss that he had a shipment coming in today? I always made Charlie work on shipment days, so I could let them work on the fit and composition of the particular kind of thing the man liked to wear, but it looked like I was going to be the one stuck with him this time. Heaven help me!
“Mr. Hanks! How’s it…going?” Oh, my God, I had almost said “hanging.” I felt the blush rush full out up my throat and into my face. I probably looked like I had sunburn that would scar my skin for life! Or perhaps one of Ben’s precious tomatoes.
Mr. Hanks just smiled at me with his cheeky grin. “Just you today? Because I have a new product that came in, and I might need an opinion.”
I gulped and pasted a smile on my face that should have left cracks. I nodded.
Which made him guffaw in laughter. “Haven’t you learned yet that I don’t ask anyone how they fit? Charlie’s never told you that, has he?” He leaned on the counter with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised.
That bastard. No, he’d never told me that. In fact, he made a point all the time to tell me how often he had to check a panty line on the way it fit under this man’s girth. “Are you telling me that he’s been lying to me for all these years?”
He stepped back from the counter and puffed up. “Not lying, just joking with you.” He looked like he was readying himself for some heavy defending, but I cut him off first.
“No problem. It’s actually funny. I think I might just have to get him back, if you promise to play along.”
That got me a smirk. “Of course, my dear. Anything for you. Life was never exciting around Martha’s Point before you came crashing in. And I always had to order my stuff off the Internet and hope Thelma Boden didn’t go through and fondle my underwear before putting a slip into my box. I owe you.”
“Yes, yes, you do.”
“So you let me know when you’re ready to pull one over on the old boy, and I’m your man.”
I eyed him up. “You’re sure about that?”
“Haven’t I always been?” He stuck out his bottom lip, and I wanted to pull it like I did with the girls when they were pouting. Of course I kept my hands to myself. There was being friendly and then there was being icky. I was not icky. But I was curious.
“Yes, you have been, especially when I needed help with some financial information.” My little mind was whirling with the possibilities. Would he know anything about Mac that no one else knew? Maybe a reason for why he was dead? Did it have to do with the tournament alone, or was it something more?
“I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears, little girl.”
I adored him even more just for that nickname.
“Ask away,” he said, leaning forward on the counter like we were two girlfriends chatting about the cute boy next door instead of the murder I was about to jump in and solve even if it was only to get Rukey off our backs and out of our lives.
“What do you know about Mac? Any chance his death might inconvenience more than just the people who’ve devoted themselves to tomatoes for the last two months?”
“Now, that’s an interesting question.” He straightened to pace in front of my long wooden counter. I’d set melon candles on the counter and swathed them in pale-pink gauze. Charlie had wanted to add some sand, with tiny umbrellas, but I’d curbed him on that.
“How interesting?” I asked. “Interesting like, ‘Hmmm, good one.’ Or interesting like, ‘You might be onto something interesting.’ ”
“The latter. Have you heard about that development going up on the land jutting out into Little Bay?”
I hadn’t, but that wasn’t really something that would be on my radar. As Mr. Hanks continued to talk, though, I thought I might want to pay more attention. Rich people, lots of rich people, buying huge homes on the bay could mean a lot to our economy and especially to my little store. I mean, people could really get into having Halloween parties, right?
“Now, I see that gleam in your eyes, and you’re going to want to tone it down.”
My balloon deflated. Why did I have a feeling I had just done the wrong thing?
“No one in town wants this thing to be built. It’ll be an eyesore. It’ll cut off several good fishing areas, and boats won’t be able to go through, not to mention that little beach will be completely off limits.”
“Oh.” I loved to take Veronica and Elizabeth there to play. And if everyone in town hated the idea, then I’d be going against the tide one more time. Still… “But it could be good for businesses.”
“And it could also be bad, if it fails. Which I’ve heard rumors that not all the money is where it’s supposed to be.” He raised his eyebrows, probably waiting for me to come to my own conclusion.
“And if the money’s not where it’s supposed to be, then Mac might have been getting ready to abscond with it after the tournament.”
“Major points for that word, Ivy. Good one.”
I blushed. “Thanks.”
“Now, back to this money thing. Would you want me to perhaps ask a few discreet questions?”
“That would be awesome.” I even clapped my hands.
“Of course, there’s a price for my help.”
There never had been before. But how else was I going to get answers when I didn’t know the first thing about this development? “Ask, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Ten percent off everything.”
Jeezumcrow. I gave a better discount to Bella. Still, I hesitated for a moment as if I really had to think about it. Didn’t want him to think he could have asked for more. Then again, I wasn’t that good an actress, so it took me about three seconds to say yes and shake his hand. I had another partner in crime.
****
Mr. Hanks went on his way, smiling and laughing like a schoolboy ready to do mischief, and I loved every second of it. I put merchandise away and made a new display in the front window to showcase several new costumes that had come in this week. I also prepared for a series of parties I’d heard were coming up. One was the engagement party Mrs. Beasley was thr
owing for her daughter, where everyone was going to look like they were from some Renaissance Faire. Why on earth you would want to go with brocade in the middle of this sweltering heat was beyond me, but it wasn’t beyond my stock and would fill my till, and that I could handle.
About two o’clock, Bella came in, with Jared trailing along behind her. When I’d let Ben make reservations for Jerry’s tonight, I’d completely forgotten about our plans. I’d called him earlier to get him to cancel, then had to field a flurry of upset from Jerry over cancelling. I’d made a promise to schedule another night, which settled him some. It was important we keep our plans tonight, though, because we were scheduled for dinner and board games with these two.
And because of that scheduled event, I was surprised to see them walk in my door. But I never missed an opportunity to hug my best friend and enjoy her company. Jared I could handle, too, especially since I thought Bella might have finally broken him of his need to speak about himself in the third person.
Bella wandered around the Shoppe making noises about this costume or that. Apparently she’d been invited to the engagement party. Ben probably had, too, and just forgot to tell me. He was irritating like that sometimes.
While Bella was looking and oohing and ahhing, I couldn’t stop myself from eyeing Jared up. He could answer the questions I’d wanted to ask Debbie. The bonus was, I wouldn’t get him or myself into trouble by asking.
Then again, he might not know anything, and I could be in a position to make him uncomfortable, which I didn’t want to do.
Then again—a second time—this was Jared, and I could ask him anything.
“So how are things down at the station?” I asked, just to subtly get the ball rolling.
He stared at me from across the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, like I’d asked for his bank password.
“Good. Thanks for asking.”
I resisted the urge to blow out a breath of frustration. “Good.” I went back to arranging a few candles on the counter and making sure my cardholder was facing the right direction. Peeking at him out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he was still looking at me.
“You know you want to ask,” he said with a smirk.
“Ask what?” I asked as if I had no clue.
“About Mac’s death being ruled an accident since he wasn’t actually murdered. He died from multiple wasp stings. There was apparently a nest in Mrs. Crandall’s shed. He must have poked it, or agitated it in some way, because his body is riddled with stings and the stake barely went into his chest. That’s why there was so little blood.”
“Huh.” Well that was a bit of a letdown since I’d built this whole conspiracy up in my head about bribes and unkept promises. Wasps, though, wouldn’t have had anything to do with that. I hated the stupid things, but that wasn’t murder.
He looked around behind him, I guess to make sure no one else was in the store. He leaned in closer and his minty breath hit me in the face. “So don’t start looking into anything, because there’s nothing to look into. And don’t you dare tell Detective Bartley I told you any of that. Just let it go. Keep enjoying your free time with Ben, and we should all be fine.”
He didn’t look like we’d all be fine, though, and the wasps raised a bigger question for me. How did Myrt work in that shed every day and never get stung, yet Mac was in there once and died from stings? I wondered if maybe he’d been allergic. Of course, there was no way for me to confirm or deny that. And I had just been effectively told to back off. I probably should follow Jared’s advice. I knew I should. Maybe with nothing more on Ben, Officer Rukey would leave us the hell alone, and we could go back to having the vacation we were supposed to have.
“I won’t say a word, but thank you for telling me.” I would have pinky sworn on the spot except that he looked like he’d just realized who he’d told that all to and wanted to take every word back.
Too bad for him he couldn’t, and as much as I wouldn’t tell Debbie, I knew I was going to set Myrt’s mind at ease at my earliest convenience.
****
That early convenience came as I was pulling into the driveway that evening. Myrt waved to me from the middle of a group of older women. If I was seeing correctly, every single woman I called an old biddy was there. If Myrt wanted to keep her cool status, she’d better not acknowledge me at all.
Still, she waved and started walking toward me. I shooed her back, but she probably couldn’t see me from that far away.
“Ivy, come in for a cup of tea. We were just going to sit down and discuss some things in town, and I’d love to have you come over.”
My mouth was agape; I could feel little swirls of wind hitting my tongue, along with maybe a bug or two, as I stood next to my car.
She’d love for me to come over.
With all of those old biddies standing around her. The old guard who continued to say hi to the girls and called them Ben’s Girls. The ones who would always want to see me run out of town and have Ben marry someone local. Every few months they’d parade a new woman in front of Ben, a niece or a granddaughter or whatever, and put her before him like a cow on the block. Look at those teeth, look at those birthing hips, look at how long her family has been in the area. It was as if I didn’t exist, and yet Myrt was willing to put her reputation on the line to have me over with them for a cup of tea.
Well, hell, I wasn’t missing out on that for a second.
Of course, I locked my car door and ran across the street as fast as my stumpy legs could carry me. Even if I learned nothing, maybe I would finally start to feel at least a little more accepted in town. It wasn’t anything I thought of constantly. As long as the people I loved in Martha’s Point loved me back, that was all I needed. But if I could get them to stop sending beauties to Ben, and maybe get them to acknowledge I at least had some good qualities, then life could be a little different around here.
I followed them all into Myrt’s house and stood stock still for a moment because I was almost sure I had been transferred back several decades.
Macramé plant holders hung from various corners, one of the big wicker peacock chairs sat in a corner, and shag rug covered the floor with a pile so deep I felt a little like I was wading through quicksand.
When I finally entered the kitchen, there weren’t enough chairs for me to have one, but Josephine Yoder actually rose from her chair and gestured that I should take her seat. I wasn’t an idiot, but I wasn’t sure which way to go. If I took it, I could look like an uncouth (good word) hooligan (better word!) for not respecting my elders. But if I didn’t take the chair, then I might look like an ungrateful brat. Decisions, decisions…
“Thanks so much, Mrs. Yoder, but I have to get back to Ben soon. Please, sit. And thanks for offering.”
She did and nodded at me like I’d just passed some kind of test that I hadn’t even had time to study for. Score one for me.
The chatter started immediately about Mac’s death and commiserating with Myrt about having to be the one to find him. I wisely kept to myself that she hadn’t been the first to see him and was in fact inside getting me sweet tea when the whole thing went down. I was the one who’d seen the blood and the loud tie he always wore.
And not a single wasp sting. He should have been covered in what would have looked like red welts. I quickly shoved that thought out of my mind. Maybe they had been somewhere under his shirt. I wouldn’t have seen them then. Right, yes, that was it.
“Well, I think it’s a shame those police folks want us to believe it wasn’t murder,” Francesca Moorehead said. She was a younger old biddy and seemed to be held in high esteem, as everyone nodded right along with her. Josephine even reached over and patted her hand.
Tish Jacobs spoke up after the murmurs died down. “Trixie at the drugstore told me that they’re trying to say it was a wasps’ nest in the shed.”
Everyone gasped. I was a second behind, since this was not a shocker to me. I got a few side eyes, but no one said anything
.
“But I don’t have wasps in my shed,” Myrt said with her hands around her chilled glass of lemonade. “I always keep them out of there because I’m allergic. My word, I’d swell right up like a balloon. Well, even Ben has come and cleaned out the shed a time or two just to make sure I didn’t miss any. There were no wasps in my shed, I can guarantee that.”
“I, um, heard that it was wasps, too, Mrs. Crandall.” See how I went back to the respecting-the-elder thing? No need to push the limits on my invitation. “I was coming over to talk with you when you waved me over. I had just wanted to tell you that it wasn’t anything you did, so you could stop worrying about being the one who killed Mac.”
All eyes turned to me. “And who told you this?” Prudence Washington asked.
Eek! I hadn’t thought about having to reveal my source. So I fibbed. “I heard it through something Ben overheard, so I think it was the right story. They said there was a whole nest in the shed and they stung him when he poked the nest. Welts everywhere, and the garden stake didn’t have much blood because his heart had already stopped beating.”
Hopefully they’d buy that and not ask too many questions. I didn’t have any more answers, and, at this point, this would totally get me off the hook for solving anything because there was no murder. I could go back to my vacation and, voila!
I should have been ready for what came next, but I never seem to be, no matter how many times the universe tries to tell me something.
Chapter Eight
“But I have no wasps,” Myrt wailed. “I’ll show you!” She creaked to her feet, but Francesca Moorehead beat her to it.
“Myrt, please stay. You’re upset, and you know how your heart gets when you’re overexcited. I know your property as well as you do. Now, you just stay in and have one of these lovely ladies get you a glass of your wonderful tea. I’ll show Ivy around.”
And so that’s how I found myself trailing the one woman who might be able to get me a nod from the biddies. Francesca took me out through the front door while the others comforted Myrt. I wasn’t going to ask why Francesca had offered when I was more than capable of walking around the small property on my own. I was also more than willing to go look around with permission and an escort, just in case Rukey showed up again, as he was wont to do.
