“They come out at night?” He relaxed. This wasn't about sex, or was it? What did she expect late at night after the skunk was gone? He'd never been in this situation with a woman.
“You're in pest control and you don't know that skunks come out at night?”
“I said that as a way of confirming that with you. Tonight. I'll be here. Skunks at night. Of course. The Bellows fellow aims to please.”
“That's a cute saying. ‘The Bellows fellow.’ Makes you sound like a detective.”
Hyacinth was smiling at him again, this time with her head cocked, as if waiting for him to confess. He dunked his focus into the creamy, sweet glass of goat's milk. He licked his upper lip to make sure he got all of it off his whiskers. “I can't get over how good that is.”
“I'll serve goat's milk again at dinner. Come by at eight. It'll be dark then and we can set up the skunk watch on my back porch.”
“Dinner at eight. Sounds great.”
“Hey, you rhymed again. A pest control poet.”
In the periphery of his vision the two mice in the living room scampered across the floor. Jason had the uncanny notion that they were laughing at him—the big lion in their midst.
Jason mumbled his goodbye then hurried to his truck, his instincts snapping to attention like flags before a hurricane hit. He'd lived through one on a Caribbean island where he'd been tracking a drug route. Electrical charges in the air had bombarded him, raising the hairs on his neck and arms, making him itch. Just as they were doing now.
His sister had been right. Hyacinth was odd, definitely a woman with secrets. And plenty of mice.
Around the bend in the road from Hyacinth's place, Jason stopped his Jeep Cherokee on a slushy shoulder. He opened the folder on the seat next to him. Sure enough, his sister's notes said that four commodes—the compact kind used on fishing boats—had been taken in one of the break-ins at the hardware store.
Greg Johnson ran the store. His wife, Rita, was part of the sewing circle, or Moonstone Mavens. She was the town's postmistress. Had Rita engineered the theft? Maybe the Moonstone Mavens felt empowered by helping Hyacinth. But would they eventually murder to see Hyacinth become successful in her self-sufficiency? That didn't make sense. Yet, Jason's sister had powerful instincts, better than his own. If he'd had a good set of instincts he'd never have gotten into deep trouble here years ago. He wouldn't have disappointed his parents, or fallen under the spell of Rayanne so many times.
Back in Moonstone, Jason bought stamps from Rita Johnson. She was a plain but pleasant-looking woman, the kind he was always doubly wary of because such women could blend into a crowd while they carried drugs, guns, or bombs.
Rita winked at Jason as she said, “Don'tcha know we can use good-lookin’ guys like you around here. Welcome, hon.” She winked again.
Startled by her forward manner, Jason almost forgot that he had a job to do. “I heard there's been a few break-ins around here.”
Rita's smile evaporated. “Mere rumors. Moonstone's a lovely place to live.”
Jason watched her eyes, which darted about in their sockets as she went about her tasks behind the counter. He lowered his voice. “You're right. Besides, the Moonstone Mavens can take care of that sort of thing, right?”
Rita's smile returned. She leaned over the counter to whisper, “That's exactly it. We've got a plan already in motion to stop these unforgiveable crimes.”
“What's the plan?”
“We catch the guy and cut off his you-know-what.” Rita winked at him, making Jason swallow.
Jason stumbled out fast to clear his head. So the Mavens were protective of Moonstone's reputation, and they thought the criminal was a man. But would they really harm him—or his family jewels? Jason winced.
He hoofed it west along Main Street. Around the next corner of the town's square sat the hardware store, run by Rita's husband, Greg.
Greg, sporting a brown crew cut and a body that probably used to wrestle in high school, sat on a stool behind the register. He was talking with a bunch of guys who stood around, leaning elbows on shelves, their caps still on. When Jason asked for a live animal trap, Greg grumbled that he had just one left, but didn't move. Instead he grumbled more about how he hadn't slept because of his wife, and how he hadn't eaten breakfast because of her, and didn't know what to do about it.
Finding Greg's mood curious, Jason nodded and listened, taking mental notes.
The other guys, Tom Bauer, Bob Winters, Kirk Kaminski, and Asher Hamm, mumbled their agreements as they shook hands with Jason.
Kirk, a towering guy of maybe six-foot-six with a Green Bay Packer cap and matching green and gold windbreaker jacket, said, “My wife drives her school bus route then, don'tcha know, heads over to the North Pole to be with the Mavens. I've had to make my own lunch lately. We used to make lunch together. It was special.”
The men shook their heads, looking at the floor, as if someone had died.
Jason was glad to follow Greg down an aisle pungent with the scents of rope, greased bolts, and oiled chains for chainsaws. “Here ya go. What ya gonna catch?”
“Skunks.”
Greg frowned at him. “Why the hell would anybody mess with skunks?”
“I was hired by Hyacinth Clarehout to get rid of them.”
Greg muttered all the way back to the register. “Good luck getting paid. That woman owes me and you should hear how she wants to be paid.”
“In body parts?”
It slipped out. Jason winced at the way Greg looked at him.
Greg rang up Jason's purchase. “Might as well be body parts. She owes me for a bunch of locks she bought. She wanted to barter for them.”
“You mean, she wanted...?”
“Sex?” Greg said. The men howled. Greg continued, “She's a looker, but no, the damn woman offered me chickens in exchange for locks. What the hell am I going to do with chickens?”
“Eat them? Sell them? Have lots of egg omelets?”
Tom Bauer, a swarthy guy in khaki-colored duds straight out of an expensive outdoors catalog, said, “That's what my wife said because that's what Hyacinth says to do. Says there's all kinds of cash in chickens.”
Jason recalled that Tom was married to a woman teller at the bank.
Asher Hamm, the out-of-work construction guy who was now working part-time making deliveries for a beer company, said, “My wife wants to take some of Hyacinth's chicks when they hatch, but I can't feed nine kids, much less buy feed for chicks. Omelets aren't free, ya know.” He ran a hand through unkempt, shaggy black hair.
Bob Winters, the former mayor, a portly, red-faced man, shook his bald head. “Sorriest day alive when Tootsie brought those first silkies home.”
Greg said, “You old fart. What do you care if your wife cozies up to a rooster? You always go off to work on your boat and escape your wife anyway. But don't you feel funny about all our women being so enamored with Hyacinth?”
The men grunted in agreement.
Greg handed Jason his receipt. “I'm about ready to divorce my wife.”
Tom said, “And take up with Hyacinth?”
“Hell, no. Let the women move in together. Let the whole lot of those Mavens take over the town. That's what's going on, you know.”
A shrugging Tom said, “It does feel like the women are trying to crowd out us men. Make this town something out of a science fiction movie where we're their zombies.”
Jason cleared his throat. “No, that was the men who controlled the town. The movie was Stepford Wives.”
The men stared at him as if he had only one eye.
Kirk said, “Whatever you want to call them, it's got to stop. Our wives are always at their meetings, and never home. It's like Hyacinth came to town and hypnotized them.”
“It's humiliating, really,” said Greg, tidying around the register.
Tom grunted, “Emasculating.”
Bob nodded. “And when mine's home she's sewing well into the night or researching chicke
n stuff on her new computer. We might as well be divorced. We don't do anything together anymore. All hale Hyacinth!”
Tom said, “I would still like my wife back sometime.”
Kirk and Asher nodded in sympathy.
“Wouldn't we all, Tom,” said Bob. “I think we're all headed for divorce and it's not our fault. Women just don't get our needs. We need them looking after us. Women don't get that about men.”
Asher nodded his shaggy head. “Hyacinth's also brainwashing my daughter. I fought with my wife about Tildy working out there, but I lost. Now little Tildy's buying into what Hyacinth's preachin’ about runnin’ things. That woman's from the big city of Madison, ya know.”
Jason left the hardware store, every sinew shaking with fear. Maybe there was something to Lily's thinking a murder was about to happen. But maybe it was a man who'd commit the deed and not a woman. Maybe a man was about to murder Hyacinth.
~—~—~—~ ~
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter 3
At a little before noon on that Tuesday, Jason went over to the bank on the opposite side of the town's square. Snowflakes bit at Jason's face. Jason couldn't believe it'd be May in little over a week. Tulip sprouts along the bank's walkway were cloaked with snow shawls. The quicker he could solve this case for his sister, the sooner he'd be back in eighty-degree Texas weather.
In the bank he met the other Lily of Moonstone. Lily Bauer, head teller, sewing circle member and Tom's wife, was a petite, freckled brunette who fingered a strand of pearls around her neck while fluttering her eyelashes at Jason.
While setting up his business account for him, Lily cooed, “My husband's going to be out of town this Friday. That's our usual nookie night. Maybe you'd like to come over?”
Nookie? As in sex? Jason pretended not to hear her. With a shaky hand, he signed his name to the paper she put in front of him.
As she collected the pen, her red, shiny fingernails tickled across the top of his hand. “Well?”
“Well?” His throat was closing.
“Maybe a big cowboy like you would like to come over to The Jingle Bell Inn for fish that night? Join me and all your neighbors for the fish fry.”
Jason almost crumpled with relief. “Friday night fish dinner. Sure.”
She winked at him again. Did all the Moonstone women wink? Rita had winked. Had Hyacinth winked, too? Had he missed her winks because of watching the mice?
“I hear there's been a batch of burglaries.”
“You're darned tootin’ there's been. Our gumball machine right here in the lobby—gone without a trace. My husband Tom's even unlocked our gun cabinet.”
“Why's that?”
“So we can shoot the burglar, of course. He tries anything fancy at my house and he's going to look like Swiss cheese. All the women are arming themselves.”
“So you think it's a man?”
“It has to be.”
“Maybe the burglar is actually a bunch of kids? Daring each other? Gang activity?”
Lily's fingers twisted her pearls. “Gangs? In Moonstone? My friend Willa Hamm has nine kids, from grade school through college now. I bet those kids know about gangs and all the possible suspects.” Lily winked again. “You're brilliant, Jase. I can call you Jase, right?”
Jason collected his new checkbook and debit card. “Of course. Where's your husband going on Friday?” Jason thought it strange that the men had been complaining about not being around their women, and yet Tom Bauer wasn't going to be home for fish and nookie.
“Not sure. Just guy stuff, he said. Maybe the casino. The guys take trips to Vegas or spend overnights at Port Cliff's casino. Not much else to do when you're out of work.”
“What guys he going with?”
“Probably Bob Winters, Kirk Kaminski, Greg Johnson.”
“Asher Hamm?”
“No. Asher makes deliveries during the evenings. You come over Friday night, okay? I'll keep you company at the fish fry.”
Jason headed for the IGA grocery store, back across the town square from the bank and on the same street as the hardware store. Willa Hamm worked part-time for Margie Farina. Both belonged to the Moonstone Mavens. Willa was in her early forties. With nine kids, both Willa and Asher Hamm had plenty of motives for stealing. But where was the motive for murder in any of that? Was Asher so angry about Hyacinth's influence over his daughter Tildy that he'd murder Hyacinth? Did it grate on Asher that the other men could still afford to take trips?
Jason walked into the IGA, didn't see Willa, so he wandered the aisles, waiting. He wondered if he should take Hyacinth something for tonight's dinner. The coziness of the thought made him shudder inside his coat. But he needed to appear normal and get her to talk. Had she even mentioned what they were having? He remembered counting her freckles. She had at least ten on each cherry cheek. Cherries. He could bring cherries. Chocolate went with cherries. Cherries as red as her turtleneck. The turtleneck that hid the breasts that jiggled—
“What are you doing?” His sister's hoarse whisper stopped him.
Heat scorched his face. He poked his Stetson back off his forehead. “I'm wandering like an idiot in a grocery store.”
“You were blathering about cherries and breasts. Are you all right?”
He confessed, “No, I'm not. I'm having dinner with Hyacinth Clarehout tonight and it's your fault.”
“But isn't that part of the job?”
“And I suppose you'd like me to bed her, too? Get some nookie?”
“Why in heaven's name would you say that?”
“Are all the women lonely in Moonstone?”
His sister screwed up her face at him. “What's the matter with you?”
“Nothing. But all the women are winking at me. Why is that?”
“Because you look like a young Robert Redford? A handsome, scruffy cowboy just in from a big cattle drive? Jeepers, Jason, you're the DEA agent. Figure it out.” Lily squinted at him. “Wait. Did Hyacinth really wink at you?”
Now he was too embarrassed to say he wasn't sure. He shrugged it off, then told his sister about the toilets used as hen nesting boxes, and his suspicion they were stolen.
Lily gave him a thumbs up. “You're already cracking the case. Thank you.”
“But I have no proof that her toilets match those stolen from the hardware store. It's not like sales tags were hanging from them. Just chicken feathers and straw.”
“You can join the sewing circle and find out.”
“I'm a man if you haven't noticed, Sis.”
“A man they're winking at. The Mavens will be all atwitter over you.”
“Atwitter?”
“Yeah, excited, fluttering and fussing, gossiping and gasping about you, like women do. They're probably blogging about you now, too. Have you searched for yourself online lately?” Lily folded her arms with a huff. “Wink back, flirt, put yourself out for me a little. I have to solve this case in less than two weeks. The women meet every day now to finish embroidering pillowcases and whatnot that they'll sell on May Day. Ask Hyacinth tonight to invite you to the group tomorrow.”
“To embroider?” He had prickly heat all over again.
“Tell Hyacinth that because you're new in town you'd like to make a presentation about pest control before the summer pests come out of hibernation. Women's groups love free guest speakers.”
“I'm not doing it. This is a loony idea.”
Lily paled. “Jase, I didn't want to tell you this, but somebody jimmied the lock at the front door of my office sometime last night after you left.”
“I'll take a look.”
“No, I already replaced the locks.”
It was Jason's turn to pale. “That was mighty fast. Did you dust for prints?”
“Of course. They also jimmied other locks around town. I made the rounds just now, asking about it.”
“I'll stay with you until Marcus gets back.”
“No, I don't want to blow
your cover. Nobody heard any motors. I think the culprit was Hyacinth on her bicycle.”
“In the dead of night?”
“I bet if you stay with her all night we won't find anything missing tomorrow.” Lily said it with the inflection of “big sister know-it-all.”
“You want me to...?” Jason's body hummed with heat at the vision of himself touching Hyacinth's perfect breasts. “You're my sister. You can't mean...”
Tears sprung to the corners of his sister's eyes. “If Hyacinth succeeds with her schemes, my career will be ruined. You have to find a way to get that woman to confess.”
Lily rushed off. Jason stared after her, his shoulders sagging inside his coat.
Then his gaze landed on the perfect thing to take to dinner with Hyacinth. It was an “M” food, sort of. It might make her talk.
* * * *
When Jason arrived a few minutes before eight that Tuesday evening, Hyacinth's two students with flashlights were unloading boxes from a car in the dark. Toad and Tildy closed the door and locked the barn door before Jason had a chance to see anything. They rushed off in the car.
Jason headed to the house where he rapped on the porch door.
An outside light bulb near his head popped on. When Hyacinth opened the door, she beamed and said, “Howdy, Jason Bellows the poet and pest control fellow.”
“Hi, Hy—”
She grabbed Jason's grocery bag and pulled out marshmallows. “You're a genius. We better put them out right away. They're under the porch but could come out anytime.” She shoved the grocery bag back into his arms and took off around the outside of the house with the marshmallow bag.
“But they're not...” For the skunks.
Hyacinth evaporated into the black night. By the time Jason caught up with her she was laying down marshmallows one by one between her back porch and the murky woodlands to the north.
Jason stood in the meager yellow light from her house windows, straining to see Hyacinth. When she returned to the house, he noticed that she hadn't cleaned up for him. Not that this was a date or anything. But he'd shaved, put on his blue pullover sweater over a white shirt with a collar, and wore a pair of upscale khaki tan pants. He'd even brushed his shearling coat and tan Stetson with Peter's clothes’ brush, and spit polished his cowboy boots. Hyacinth, on the other hand, wore a beat-up, holey red sweatshirt over frayed blue jeans pocked with mud. Her heavy Wellington boots were muddied, too. Jason wondered what she'd been doing just before he got here and where she'd been. Had he caught her in the middle of secret activity?
Men Of Moonstone Series Page 15
