by riley blake
“Yes, but those things only happen on one side of the line. And that’s on the Virginia side.” Pearl twisted her mouth. “Or is it the Tennessee side?”
“We have very different opinions of our town,” Mary Louise argued. “Where else can you live and shop in two states all within the same hour?”
“Why don’t you give Sheriff Littleton a call and see how they left things with Oscar’s death?” Opal suggested, staying on point.
“Maybe I should,” Pearl said, accepting the challenge. “Let me grab my purse. I have his business card tucked in a side pocket. I kept his number just in case I ever needed him.”
“Don’t you mean, in case he ever needs you?” Opal waggled her eyebrows. “For recipes, of course.”
Pearl shooed her away and disappeared inside. Meanwhile, Romantic Rob and his shadow, a man about half his size and double his age, took a seat on the far end of the porch.
Mary Louise closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh mountain air. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss a suspicious death. Oscar was considered somewhat famous and everyone probably had an opinion about the man and his demise.
“What are you thinking?” Opal pried.
“I’m considering my son’s trickery. He wanted us to give assisted living a try and maybe it isn’t such a bad thing.” She rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes. “Just when we thought we wouldn’t have anything to do, a mystery falls in our laps.”
“We can’t stay here. A place like this would take everything we have saved. Besides, I enjoy my life. I like working at the shop and going on antique hunts. Plus, I’d like to get another tiny house development underway. Quite frankly? I’m not done yet.” Opal patted Mary Louise’s hand. “And neither are you.”
About that time, Pearl rushed to the porch again. Mary Louise sat upright. “What’s the matter?”
“I just talked to Sheriff Littleton. He said he’d have to call me back.” She paled. “He’s in the middle of processing Johnny Beaufort for Oscar Leonardo’s murder!”
“What?” Mary Louise had known Johnny B for most of his life, but Johnny and Opal were close friends and neighbors.
“Johnny didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m with Opal. He doesn’t have enough ambition to swat at a fly, much less kill a five-foot-ten man made of muscle and steel.”
“Oscar was tough stuff sure enough,” Pearl said. “But being tough didn’t stop him from dying. From getting killed, I mean.”
“Johnny didn’t kill anyone and we don’t know what happened to Oscar.” A beat later Opal firmly added, “Guilty until proven innocent isn’t fair judgment for a man who supported our business all these years. Let’s try and remember who our friends are in their time of need.”
“It doesn’t make sense. They wouldn’t run in the same circles.” Johnny made his living getting the locals soused and Oscar supposedly didn’t drink—unless he really drank himself to death. Had he gone to Johnny’s on a suicide mission? She shook her head. No. That didn’t make sense at all. A sober man wouldn’t view alcohol as a potential death route. Opposing views and beliefs weren’t exactly a good formula for murder.
Johnny B didn’t have motive. He might have had opportunity, depending on where Oscar actually died, but he didn’t have a reason to want the man dead.
Pearl looked distraught. “I’m so upset by all this. I mean, I thought Oscar was smarter than he looked, or maybe dumber, depending on when you saw him…” She took a few ragged breaths. “Not that anyone would know. It would be hard to make a decision on his intelligence or any of his other attributes since his corpse is missing and all.” She sniffled. “Do dead men even have attributes?” Before anyone responded, she added, “Sure they do. Even a cadaver would have certain undeniable characteristics.”
Opal groaned. “Good grief, honey. Calm down.”
Pearl stared at her cell phone as if she couldn’t believe the device had been used to transmit such horrible news. “Anyone could see that Oscar’s wife only had an agenda. She made him take out a large life insurance policy.” Pearl slapped her hand to her mouth. “Do you think she and Johnny B were planning to split the money and run off and get married? Maybe they were having an affair. Maybe…”
“Apparently Pearl hasn’t seen Johnny’s girlfriend,” Opal said.
“Or Oscar’s widow,” Mary Louise suggested.
“None of that matters. Exterior beauty doesn’t mean a person has a golden heart or giving soul.”
“Johnny’s sidekick is as sweet as honey straight from the jar. As for Johnny?” Opal stood. “He didn’t kill anyone.”
“Shh,” Pearl whispered. “This is all confidential information.”
“No one heard me.”
Rocking Red, an Amazonian woman with ivory skin and ice-blue eyes slowly turned her head. Pearl forced a smile. Red didn’t return the gesture. She was a strange one and apparently liked to follow around the new residents as an intimidation tactic.
“Where is Johnny now?” Opal asked.
Pearl cupped her hand at the side of her mouth and whispered, “He’s on his way to jail.”
“I can’t sit here and do nothing,” Opal announced, making her way to the door. “I need to make a few phone calls. Are we still on for tonight?”
Pearl crossed her arms and didn’t budge. “I’ve waited all day for Bingo Bonanza.” She glanced at her phone. “And it starts in eight minutes.”
Mary Louise grabbed Pearl’s shoulders and steered her to the entrance. “You’ll have plenty of time to show off your new daubers. Right now, however, we have some unfinished business down at the store. We’re sneaking out.”
“We just got here.”
“Quit whining,” Opal said.
“Why do we have to go tonight?”
Mary Louise leveled Pearl with one of her best ‘you know why’ looks and guided her through the entrance hall. “Let’s talk upstairs. If we’re going to help Johnny, we need to find out what happened to Oscar.”
“Fine,” Pearl grumbled. “But there’s no point in sneaking out. We can go wherever we choose during ‘get about’ hours. Breaking the rules isn’t a big deal when you’re over-the-hill and sliding down the other side of the mountain at the ripe old age of seventy-two.”
“We can pretend we’re convicts,” Opal suggested.
“Great. We’ll fit right in with Johnny B.”
“I don’t think we’ll spend the night behind bars,” Opal said, entering the snack shop and eyeing the red velvet cake squares. “Besides, look around. Here, we have delicious commissary, free phone calls, and maid service. This community is probably a tad more comfortable than most state-run facilities.” She shook her hands. “You don’t see bracelets on these wrists.”
“Interfere with a police investigation and you may get those silver handcuffs yet.” Pearl frowned. “Why can’t we be like everybody else here? We should enjoy ourselves. The kids are paying a handsome price for this thirty-day stay.” She looked perplexed. “Or we are.”
“It’s the latter,” Opal said, waiting in line. “Now about tonight. We left the shop in disarray so we need to straighten up before Catherine has a chance. New stock arrived yesterday. There’s a lot to be done before we close up shop and call it a day.”
“Like what?” Pearl asked.
“Like find a murder weapon?” Opal was the kind of sidekick every detective-wannabe needed, but she probably expected clues to fall in their laps.
“Are you suggesting that we’ll stumble upon a gun?” She looked stunned. “At Vintage Whispers?”
“She never mentioned a gun,” Mary Louise pointed out. “But we’ve been in business for a decade. In those ten years, Oscar’s wife never shopped with us. It’s odd that she suddenly has an interest in Vintage Whispers. Stranger still is when her patronage began—the very day Oscar died.”
“What if we’re wasting our time? What if Oscar’s wife—Kelly—was just lonely? After Catherine’s father died, I did
some pretty strange things. Maybe she just wanted to be around people.”
“And you may be right.” Mary Louise smiled as Pearl stood taller.
“Okay let’s talk logistics,” Opal said. “Where will we meet?”
“We live together now. We’ll leave at the same time,” Mary Louise said. “Strength in numbers and all that.”
“We can’t walk out together. It will be too obvious,” Pearl said.
“We’ll work it out,” Mary Louise promised.
About that time, a sluggish-looking security guard wandered in the snack shop. “What’s good tonight?” He rubbed his belly in a clockwise fashion. “Everything sure looks good.”
The boy behind the counter said, “I recommend the chess bars.”
“Bag ‘em up.”
“All of them?”
A few grumbles resounded. Apparently some of the residents were waiting for the bars.
“Go ahead and sell those,” the security guard said, twirling his keys. “I’ll pick up a fresh batch after my shift, say right around twelve?”
The teenager nodded. The women grinned.
“There’s our sign!” Excited, Pearl turned on her heel. “Now we can walk out together. He won’t notice us because he won’t be watching for us.”
Mary Louise checked for eavesdroppers. “It’s supposed to rain. That hill will be as slick as glass covered in melted butter. We may want to stick to the main roads.”
“Then let’s take your car,” said Pearl.
“It might get us downtown but we’ll never make it back. The hill is too steep. And if we leave my car anywhere near State Street, we might as well leave a note on the windshield saying we snuck out.”
“Looks like we’re hoofing it tonight,” Opal said. “In the meantime, I’ll email Crane down at Hilltop Motors and ask him to pick up your car and work on it this week.”
“If he has an open bay,” Pearl said. “I usually have to wait four months for a service appointment.”
“Hmm…that’s unusual.” Opal shrugged. “He never says ‘no’ to me, but he lives in Village One and does whatever his landlord asks.”
“And the landlord would never take advantage of that I see,” Mary Louise teased.
A loud speaker’s static resounded and Bingo Bonanza was announced. Pearl clapped her hands. “Girls, I just have to play. I’ve never been detail-oriented so you can plan without me. I really hate to miss the games tonight. Bingo Bonanza is sort of a big deal. Besides, it could be a good opportunity to find out what the other residents think about living here.”
“Go,” Opal said. “I hope you win lots of prizes.”
“I hope so too.” She jiggled her shoulders in a shrug-dance movement and whispered, “See you at midnight?”
Opal nodded. “See you at the corner of Retiree Lane and Cemetery Avenue.”
Chapter Five
Two hours later, they power-walked past Bristol’s historic Paramount Theatre. Opal took the lead while Pearl struggled to keep the pace. Mary Louise squeezed the store’s master key in the palm of her hand. Another block and they would be home free.
If all went well, they would soon know what Kelly Leonardo had purchased at the store. Perhaps then they could piece together what had happened to Oscar and help Johnny clear his name.
As they approached Vintage Whispers, Mary Louise glanced across the street. Her gaze flicked up to her downtown flat. She quickly ran through a mental list of last rituals. She’d turned off the AC, locked the windows, watered the plants, and dragged a last load of towels from the dryer. For some unfounded reason, leaving the laundry unfolded now troubled her.
“We’re here!” Pearl came to a screeching halt as the bottoms of her sneakers brushed against the plastic welcome mat.
“We wanted to remain unnoticed and Pearl screams at the top of her lungs. Great job, hon. Way to keep everyone guessing where we are and what we’re doing.”
“We don’t have to worry about my old neighbors. If anyone sees us, they’ll assume we’re here to clear out the inventory before next month’s rent is due.”
“We need to make use of our time here. While we’re looking for a murder weapon, we can—”
“Who said anything about a murder weapon?”
“Well Pearl, I did. You heard me. We discussed this.” Opal adjusted her vinyl rain hat. She was well prepared for the coming storm. “While visions of B-3 and I-21 danced in your head, we mentioned what we might uncover here. You commented, too, said something about ‘stumbling’ over a gun or something of that nature.”
Pearl scoffed. “Why that was nearly a lifetime ago. I’ve won twenty bucks since then.”
“Then this calls for a celebration.”
“Shh,” Mary Louise whispered, unlocking the door. “Let’s talk inside.”
They all tried to enter at the same time. Grunts and discontented mumbles resounded. When the wiggling stopped, Mary Louise pushed away and let Pearl and Opal have at it. Acting like children, they battled for first entry.
Perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. According to Romantic Rob, childlike behavior registered as experience at Cozy Retirement Community.
Opal took the first step inside. She didn’t have room to go anywhere but forward. Pearl flipped on the front lights. Mary Louise turned them off. “Let’s start in the back. We need the receipts from last quarter. Let’s find out why Kelly needed to shop on the day of her husband’s death. Then we’ll go from there.”
“You sound like a natural,” Opal said.
“Why does it surprise you that Kelly would shop here?” Pearl asked.
“I can’t imagine that our taste would appeal to her. People rave about Kelly’s art and pottery. Customers have mentioned her work. Her paintings have a spiritual edge to them.”
“Then we’re a match for sure,” Pearl said innocently. “We have a lot of inspirational items.”
“Do you want take this or shall I?” Opal asked, thumbing Pearl.
“Your turn,” she said, shutting out Pearl’s rambling. She locked up while the girls went to the den and Opal attempted to explain the difference between inspirational and spiritual in terms of the new age movement.
Mary Louise held fast to precious memories. Two days seemed like forever when you were dragged away from something you loved. Fashioned after a loft, the space’s polished hardwood floors were covered in thick throw rugs with a variety of warm earth tones. Their version of a break room sported comfortable furnishings with overstuffed chairs and recliners, designer tables with bookshelves underneath and a few antiques from local estate sales. Those treasured pieces were from forgotten eras.
“I’ll put on a pot of coffee!” Pearl made a racket in the kitchen area, a wall that housed a double oven, sink, and at least ten feet of counter space.
“Be right there!” Mary Louise called out, taking in her familiar surroundings. She lived directly across the street but Vintage Whispers was home sweet home.
No matter how long she’d been away or how soon she’d returned, whenever Mary Louise entered their slice of retail heaven, it felt like walking down Remembrance Street. The best part of owning one-third of Vintage Whispers was the opportunity to work alongside her best friends. She couldn’t ask for better business partners or a more enjoyable way to spend her days.
They stocked the store with new collectibles and exquisite home accents, but they also picked up a number of their larger furniture pieces from estate sales. They kept a good mix of what was popular in yesteryear and what seemingly appealed to the younger generation as well.
While she didn’t have any true intentions of staying at Cozy Retirement, she also couldn’t shake the feeling that the days of summer were now over. Owning the shop with her best friends was a rare opportunity and they never took their success for granted.
She turned on an antique rooster lamp in the country corner and admired the ivory-colored vintage clothing hanging in a walnut armoire. She thumbed through the selections, reminiscing ab
out customers who would often seek out Vintage Whispers for lace and linens.
Doilies and placemats were stacked inside the cupboard. Pottery and fine bone china displayed on scraps of tapestries gave the small exhibit an extra zap of color. A rusty old trunk had always been a favorite conversation piece with its lace tablecloths neatly folded on top and a variety of handmade quilts packed underneath.
Pausing to straighten up the hardback books on a nearby shelf, she inhaled the familiar scents of apple potpourri and cinnamon candles. Wishing she could turn back the mother hand of ancient time, she wondered how many hours had been spent there, how many laughs had she and the girls shared? How many stories had been told? How many items had been broken or stolen? How many sold?
In the end, the business part of Vintage Whispers didn’t matter that much to an aging woman now old enough to take her place in a retirement community. What mattered here were the treasure chest of memories, the people she’d met and friends she’d made. Some people lived their lives behind closed doors and never had the opportunity to shake a hand or say hello. They worked on assembly lines or behind a computer and while they may have enjoyed their jobs at the time, as age crept upon them they would soon see, the real value in life was weighed in family and friends, time together versus time apart.
She gazed at the shop’s décor as if she were visiting for the first time, determined to notice what was placed or out of place, what belonged but really didn’t. Had she hoped for a sign, something that would stand out as amiss? And what would she do if they discovered an incriminating piece of evidence there? She didn’t want Vintage Whispers to be remembered as the store where someone purchased a murder weapon or worse—left one in hiding, tucked out of sight.
Inhaling the rich scent of hazelnut coffee, she made her way to the back of the narrow store, passing decorative wreaths, oil paintings, bags of potpourri, candles, keepsake and music boxes. Walking under the arched doorway, she passed the now-empty floral station with the deep shelves above it. Lined with unfilled gift baskets for all occasions and boxes of all sizes, the space allowed them to cater to shoppers on the go. They even offered gift delivery or curbside service. Things sure had changed over the course of one decade.
