Paradise Park

by Carolina Mac

  “Saffron, I wish you would drink juice, darling. It would make you much healthier than eating those dead birdies outside in the dark every night.” Barkley talked in a baby voice to the massive ball of fur reclining on the arm of the sofa. Then he made a face thinking of the sad eyes of the dead blue jays and nuthatches resting on his doorstep every morning. Gifts from his beloved cat. He touched her black velvet collar studded with rhinestones, another well-priced purchase from the shopping channel. He stroked her golden coat and she purred, not showing a hint of remorse for the birds she had so savagely murdered.

  Barkley took his drink out to the deck along with a coaster and a floral napkin. He chose a chair under the umbrella, brushed off the cushion before he sat down and waited.

  He flashed a brilliant smile as the pair came up the steps onto his deck. The lady introduced both of them. “I’m Detective Spangler and this is my partner Detective McMurtry.”

  Barkley stood to shake hands with the lady first and then the gentlemen. He offered them seating. “Could I get you drinks? I have a lovely cold veggie cocktail made from my own produce.” He held up his almost empty glass.

  “No thanks,” said McMurtry.

  “I’m good,” said Spangler.

  “You must be here about Miss Bonnacort. Terrible about her mishap. No one is safe in their own home these days.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual night before last, Mr. Campbell?”

  “I believe it was just as the evening news was ending, so perhaps elevenish or a bit before, car lights or possibly truck lights passed through the Paradise portal and turned to the right. At that moment, I was totally enraptured by the weatherman and what he had to say about precipitation for the next couple of days. I usually make notes and compare the local forecast with what The Weather Network has to say in regard to our area and act accordingly. The success of my garden depends heavily upon rainfall as I’m sure you both are well aware.”

  “Of course,” said Spangler.

  “The set of lights you saw come through the gate, was it a car or truck in your opinion?”

  “Honestly, Detective McMurtry, I was seated in my living room with Saffron on my knee and I didn’t bother to look closely. I saw the lights and saw them turn to the right onto Hickory Lane. Could have been either. Car or truck. I wish I could be of more help. Is Miss Bonnacort recovering well?”

  “She’s been released from the hospital, and she’s staying with a relative for now.”

  “Wonderful painter—meticulous in her calling. She painted my boudoir in the most delicate shade of lavender.”

  McMurtry raised his eyebrows and Spangler smiled.

  “Are you retired or do you have a profession, Mr. Campbell?” asked Spangler.

  “I’m a wedding photographer, Detective Spangler. Freelance, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  ANTICIPATING A PRODUCTIVE day of writing, I set up my laptop on the kitchen table, gathered my notes and filled the kettle. Lonnie had agreed to me working at home for the day only after he confirmed with the crime scene people that they would be present at April’s trailer for the whole day. Even with their assurance that no one could drive down Hickory Lane without their knowledge, Lonnie was not convinced I was safe. He insisted that Ted stay with me while I worked.

  Lonnie’s concern was touching and I knew in my heart his affection was genuine. He was everything I had ever wanted in a man. He was filled to overflowing with that quiet, loving, protective quality that was hard to find. Discovering him right next door in a trailer park was a miracle in itself. The second miracle was that Jerry liked him. He had carefully scrutinized my dates in the past and brutally criticized all of them. All but Lonnie.

  I unplugged the kettle and poured boiling water into the blue ceramic tea pot that had been my mother’s—the only thing Jerry had saved. The knock on the door made me jump and I almost burned my hand. Ted growled under the kitchen table, rousted himself into protection mode and made for the door—snarling and showing off sharp white teeth. I sucked in a breath. “You’re scaring me, Ted.”

  With Hickory Lane blocked off, who could it be but the police? I opened the inside door a crack leaving the lock on the screen. My fingers tightened on Ted’s collar as he pushed forward, his fangs up against the screen. “Yes?”

  “Tom Steiner from the Lindsay Examiner, Miss. I wonder if you could give me your version of what happened to your neighbor?” He held up his press credentials.

  “How did you get to my trailer?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “I’m calling the police.” He didn’t retreat as I grabbed my cell phone from the kitchen table and scrolled through the numbers.

  “Aren’t you afraid living here by yourself?” he hollered. “I’d like to do a story from a neighbor’s point of view. Your point of view, Miss…”

  “I’d like you to leave, please.” I shut the door and locked it, poured my tea and was about to sit down when another knock rattled the door. Ted went ballistic and charged ahead of me. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to the press.”

  “Police, ma’am, could you open the door please?”

  I opened the door a crack, saw the woman’s badge and opened it a little wider. “Sorry, a reporter was here trying to make me talk to him. Come in.”

  “A reporter? How did he get into the park?” asked the male officer. “The road is closed. Residents only.” He glanced at his partner as she spoke.

  “What did he look like?”

  “Tall, curly brown hair and he wore glasses. I only had a quick look.”

  The tall blonde lady spoke to the officer at the end of the street on her radio. “There’s a reporter inside the park. Take care of it.” After the media crisis was averted they introduced themselves. “I’m Detective McMurtry and this is Detective Spangler. We need to ask you a few questions about your encounter with Rob Eastman.”

  “I gave a statement to the other officer already.”

  “I realize that, but things have changed. Now it’s our case and we have to start over. It won’t take long.” McMurtry pulled out a notebook and poised his pen. He had a kind face and I relaxed a bit.

  “Okay,” I said, “let me think. The first time he came over was shortly after I moved in. I was outside starting the barbeque and he drove his bike into my driveway, parked it, walked over and started talking. He told me he moved in with his brother and he wanted to meet new people in the park.”

  “Did he touch you?” asked the tall, slim lady cop. She looked like she could hold her own.

  “No, Lonnie came home, saw Rob talking to me and walked over from next door to see what was going on. I whispered to Lon that I didn’t know Rob and I was nervous. Rob left shortly after Lonnie arrived. Later that night he cruised up and down the road in front of my trailer on his Harley.”

  “Did he leave you alone after that?” asked McMurtry.

  “Not exactly. He came the next day when Lon was cutting the grass and told him to fetch me out of the trailer because he needed to talk to me. Lon refused and called the police. Rob took off on his bike before the police arrived.”

  Spangler raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows.

  “My brother stayed with me the first night and the following day I stayed at his place in Oshawa. After that I went with Lonnie on his run to Chicago because he wouldn’t leave me here by myself.”

  “When Miss Bonnacort was attacked, you were with your boyfriend in his truck?”

  Grace nodded. “We came back the next night after Lonnie dropped a load in Hamilton. The yellow tape was around her trailer when we got here.”

  “Where is Mr. Chandler now?”

  “He took a load to Ottawa. He’ll be back tonight. He thought I’d be safe here today with the police working on the street.”

  “You would think so,” said McMurtry with a frown.

  “But just in case, he made Ted stay home with me. He usually goes in the truck.” Ted raised his head at the mention o
f his name and Spangler gave him a wary glance.

  “Do you work, Miss Whitmarsh?”

  “I work here on my laptop. I’m a writer.”

  Spangler nodded. “Thanks for your time. Could you tell Mr. Chandler that we’ll have to question him in the next day or two?”

  “I’ll tell him. Did you see April in the hospital and ask her who raped her?”

  “We did, but we can’t discuss that,” said Spangler.

  “I understand. Is she going to be okay?”

  “She was released and went to stay with her mother for a few days.”

  “She would want to be with her mother after something so traumatic,” I said. “I never met her, but Lon knows her slightly.”

  “You’re new to the park?” asked Spangler.

  “I moved in a week ago.”

  “Was Mr. Chandler your boyfriend before you moved here?”

  “No, but I think it was fate. I came to look at the trailer with the real estate lady and there was Lon sitting on his deck with a beer in his hand. Bam—that was all she wrote.”

  McMurtry raised his eyebrows.

  “Mr. Chandler must be quite a guy,” said Spangler with a smile.

  “Oh, he is. One in a million.”

  The detectives left and I went back to work. A morning of interruptions. Nothing accomplished so far. Ted managed to go back to sleep and I texted Lon.

  ‘What’s your 10-20, cowboy?’

  ‘Seven.’

  ‘Dinner at seven-thirty?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  The black and purple Peterbilt rolled into the park at ten to seven. The noise of the huge engine rumbled through the kitchen and made me smile. I stepped onto the deck to watch Lon park the truck. Ted bayed and took off running to greet his master, pouncing on Lonnie as he locked up the cab. I followed at a slower pace and walked straight into Lonnie’s arms. He gathered me in close and kissed my neck. “I missed you so much today.”

  I kissed him gently and my eyes welled up. This guy was rendering me speechless?

  “Do I have time for a shower before dinner?”

  “Sure, come over when you’re ready and we’ll have a beer before we eat. No rush.”

  After dinner, we sat on the deck with mugs of hot coffee and chatted about the events of the day. “A reporter knocked on the door this morning and tried to make me talk to him.”

  “That’s not good at all. If he got past the cops, then somebody else could.” Lonnie frowned.

  “The detectives asked me about Rob Eastman and said they would have to question you about him also.”

  “Wonder why they haven’t arrested him yet? He must be holed up somewhere.”

  “Do you think he did it, Lon?”

  “I thought about it a lot while I drove, and even though I didn’t like the little punk when I ran into him, I have to vote no. He’s the logical choice for the cops, but why would he rape somebody in the same trailer park he just moved into? He just got out of jail. That would be dumb.”

  “I have to agree. That might be why he’s hiding out. He knows he would be the first suspect on the list whether he did it or not.”

  “What about the old lady with the dogs?” asked Lonnie. “Did the cops find her yet?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Can I sleep here tonight? I want you to be safe.”

  “Is that all you want?”

  Lonnie grinned. “You’re good to me, Gracie.”

  “I’ll clean up the dishes while you do what you need to do and we’ll see how good I can be.”

  “I’m down with that. Come on Ted, I’ll feed you.” Lonnie headed next door and Ted followed.

  When Lonnie came back I met him at the door in a pink teddy and got the reaction I was looking for. He took one look and sucked in a breath. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to kiss me. I rubbed his back under his t-shirt and he pulled me closer. “I love it when you do that.”

  I locked up and turned off all the lights except the night light on the stove. “How was your run today?” I slipped my arm around his waist as we walked down the hall.

  “Boring without you.”

  “I like being in the truck with you.”

  “Best night I ever had in the sleeper,” Lonnie chuckled.

  “Maybe we’ll go on a long haul together.”

  “I’m thinking Texas.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EDGAR FILLED HIS bucket with hot water and added a healthy shot of pine-scented Mr. Clean. Now that all the junk was at the dump he was on a campaign to cleanse his trailer of all traces of Mabel and the dogs. Those little rats had been lifting their spindly legs on the baseboards for far too long. He whistled a happy tune as he rinsed out his mop.

  I didn’t realize how depressing all that junk and clutter was. I can breathe now.

  After scrubbing the floors from the front of the trailer to the back, he did laundry and hung it on the line. It was July and the days were hot and sunny. No need to run up the electric bill using the dryer. He was almost finished hanging up the last pair of socks when Betty hobbled over from next door.

  “Have to do your own laundry now, eh?” she snarled.

  “Guess I do if I want clean clothes.”

  “What did you do with Mabel, Edgar? I know you killed her.”

  “What makes you think that, Betty?”

  “Pretty obvious. The cops will be on to you soon.”

  “The police have questioned me and I told them all I knew. If they were going to arrest me they would’ve done it by now.”

  “Think you’re gonna get away with it, don’t you?”

  “Mabel left me, Betty, pure and simple. I thought she was going to visit her step-sister and it turns out she lied and went someplace else. She must have had this plan in the works for quite a while, not to leave a trace.”

  “Yeah, and I’m twenty-one again.” She turned for home and took a short-cut through Edgar’s tomato garden.

  “I told you not to cut through the tomato plants,” he hollered. “Do women ever listen?”

  Edgar showered in his spotless bathroom and changed into clean clothes all the while humming a little tune to himself. He combed his thinning hair carefully, splashed on cologne out of an Old Spice bottle he hadn’t opened from three Christmas’s ago and smiled at himself in the mirror.

  He selected a bottle of the dandelion wine from his stash, placed it in a plastic bag and walked down Hickory Lane whistling.

  Marg opened the door. “Sheila’s in the shower.”

  “That’s okay. I’m Edgar from down the road. I thought you ladies might like to try a bottle of my dandelion wine. This year’s batch is extra good.”

  “Thanks,” Marg said with a smile, “come on in. Sheila will be dressed in a few minutes.”

  Edgar grinned as he sat at the kitchen table staring at Marg. She was no prize, but she was a helluva lot younger and more interesting than Mabel. She still had a pretty good figure even though she could stand to lose a few pounds. Her hair was far from natural, but the pale blonde looked good with her blue eyes.

  “You’re the guy whose wife is missing, right?” asked Marg, never long on tact.

  “That’s me,” Edgar said cheerfully. “Never know when they’ll just up and leave you. One morning you wake up and she’s right there beside you and the next day you wake up all alone.”

  Marg nodded. “I’ll get some glasses and we can try the wine.” While Marg looked through the cupboard for wine glasses, Sheila made an appearance looking freshly scrubbed.

  “Edgar, hi, any word on Mabel?”

  “Not a damn thing. She left me and doesn’t want to be found. That’s all I can think of.”

  “Sorry,” said Sheila.

  “Don’t be. Our marriage had run its course. These things happen.”

  “You seem to be taking it well.”

  He shrugged. “Not much I can do about it.”

  “That’s true.”

&nbs
p; Marg poured the wine and passed the glasses around. “Edgar brought us some of his homemade wine.” She took her first sip. “Wow, that’s strong,” she said blinking back the tears. “White lightning.”

  “Uh huh,” said Edgar. “Turned out mighty fine this year.”

  “We’ll be wasted before lunch,” said Sheila with a giggle.

  Edgar took his leave when the wine bottle was drained dry. By that time, he was well acquainted with both ladies. He headed for home and his first order of business was to see if that nosy Betty had damaged any of his tomato plants when she took a short cut through his garden.

  He carefully looked through the maze of vines, assuring himself that no plants were ruined. He bent down, picked a couple of bright red, juicy looking beefsteaks and took them into the trailer. After washing the fruit, he buttered some fresh bread on his pristine counter and made sandwiches that he wrapped in waxed paper and placed in a bag. The kettle whistled and Edgar made enough instant coffee to fill a thermos. With cream added, he screwed the lid on tight.

  He put the paper bag and the thermos into his truck, hooked up the boat trailer and grabbed a can of worms from the porch step. On the way past Betty’s place, he saw her smoking in the garden swing and gave her a wave as he headed out of the park.

  “HAROLD, THIS IS Betty. Do you know where Edgar’s fishing camp is?”

  “Yeah, it’s on Little Lazy Lake up near Peterborough. I’ve been there with him lots of times, but not yet this summer.”

  “He hooked up his boat and left. Do you think he could’ve done something with Mabel at the lake?”

  “Never thought of it, but I guess it’s possible.”

  “I’m gonna call that cop that left his card here and see if he’ll check it out,” said Betty.

  “Still can’t believe that Edgar would hurt Mabel, but I guess anything could have happened. She’s been gone a long time and it makes you wonder.” Harold heaved a big sigh.

  GARY SLOUCHED INTO one of the chairs on the deck with a beer in his hand. He was bored without Marg around to argue with, and now Rob had taken off to parts unknown. He flicked his Zippo twice, lit up a smoke and wondered if he should move somewhere with more action. Maybe he’d have to get a job just to fill in the time. How could he even think a thought like that?