Calamity @ the Carwash: A Parson's Cove Cozy Mystery

by Sharon Rose

  I must’ve dozed off because the next thing I knew, the garage door was sliding open with a loud creaking sound and I almost went down the twisted slide. Light from a long florescent bulb streamed out almost reaching my hiding spot. Before I ducked down, I saw that Scooter’s car and Calvin’s taxi were inside. Calvin was in the process of putting his hubcap back on. I heard him yell at Scooter, “Hey, I’m not finished yet. Shut that door.” Scooter replied, “Well, hurry up. We don’t have all night.”

  They didn’t speak again. Calvin drove off, driving slower than normal and disappeared down the street. Scooter hit a button on the wall and the garage door went down. That was it. Besides being a disappointing night, my left leg and foot were asleep. It took a few minutes of rubbing my leg and wriggling my toes before I was able to climb down the ladder and walk home. If any of Maxymowich’s men were anywhere around, I hadn’t seen them.

  By the time I’d explained my absence to seven cats and then climbed into bed, it was almost one a.m. A little nip of gin did wonders in helping me go to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Saturday morning. I usually wake up refreshed, especially if I know there are tourists in town and that I might make enough money in one day to pay for my electrical bill for the month. This Saturday was definitely the exception to the rule. The older I get, the more sleep I seem to need. Six hours, interrupted by two bathroom visits does not make for an energized Mabel Wickles.

  Flori phoned at eight thirty to tell me that she was bringing six dozen chocolate chip cookies to the shop.

  “Well, it will have to be ‘first come, first serve, and no seconds’ because I don’t want you rushing home to bake more when the first batch is gone,” I said.

  “I understand, Mabel. However, you know I don’t mind making more. It’s such an easy recipe. For the real chocolate-chocolate ones, you use chocolate pudding mix. Do you want me to write it up for you?”

  “It’s all I can do to keep up with the muffin demand but thanks anyway. By the way, Flori, has Jake mentioned anything about Calvin or Scooter lately? You know, like what they’ve been up to? Or, if they’ve made any trips together? That sort of thing?”

  “I can’t remember him saying anything besides all the money Calvin throws around. He did say that Murray was at the café yesterday.”

  “Really? That’s good. He’ll get over this much faster if he starts getting out. Sitting watching the water for hours all day is not a way to cope.”

  “I don’t know, Mabel. I think the guys down there wish he went back to sitting and watching the water.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened because Scully and Jim happened to walk in and stop him.”

  “Stop him? Stop him from what?”

  “From throwing a punch at Calvin.”

  “Are you serious? Why? What did Calvin say to get him so upset?”

  “Jake said that he didn’t say a thing, just kind of smirked and that was enough to set Murray off. Murray was sitting with Jake and Denny Wakefield and all of a sudden, he went berserk.”

  “What did Jim and Scully do?”

  “As far as I know, they grabbed Murray and held his arms and then he calmed down. He refused to look at Calvin. He left right away. Jake and the boys tried to make him stay but he never said a word - just walked out.”

  “I wonder if he’s having some sort of breakdown, Flori. I mean, he has gone through a terrible shock - first, Bernie and then, Biscuit. Or, I guess I should say first Biscuit and then, Bernie. Whichever way it was, it was very stressful for him. But, Calvin? Why would he be upset with Calvin? Do you think he believes Calvin is guilty of murdering his friend and his dog?”

  “Oh, Mabel, I can’t believe Calvin would murder Bernie. I know we don’t like him but that doesn’t mean he’s a murderer.”

  “I know but that’s the only reason I can think of for Murray to do something like that. There’s something funny going on with Calvin and Scooter though, Flori. Even Maxymowich is watching them. I think it has to do with their cars. I know that doesn’t make sense but it’s just a gut feeling that I have. Why would Calvin have his taxi in Scooter’s garage and why would he be putting his hubcaps back on? Why would they be off?”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Mabel,” Flori said. “I have absolutely no idea what you talking about. How did we get from feeling sorry for Murray and his nervous breakdown to Calvin and his hubcaps?”

  I suddenly remembered something else. Something that Melanie had told me.

  “And, Flori, Bernie was always washing his car. Melanie told me that. It was getting her upset she said.” I had no idea where I was going with this but somehow, there had to be some connection. “Why would Bernie suddenly be washing his car all the time?”

  “Because it was dirty? You can’t condemn people for washing their cars. Besides, what does that have to do with Calvin and Scooter? Probably Calvin had a flat tire and he was changing it in Scooter’s garage. Don’t you have to take off the hubcaps when you change a tire? I really have no idea what on earth you’re talking about.”

  “I have no idea either but I can’t help but feel there’s a connection, Flori.”

  “Well, let me know when you’ve connected all the dots. I’ll see you at nine. Make sure you have coffee on before the crowd bursts through those doors, my friend.”

  The coffee was on but we were still waiting for the crowd to burst through the doors. By nine-thirty, Flori and I had eaten one dozen cookies. They were the chocolate-chocolate ones and they simply melted in your mouth. To wash them down, we’d polished off two cups of coffee each. I was still waiting for my first customer. Every ten minutes or so, I got up and looked down the street. Mutt must’ve had the same idea because we met once on the sidewalk.

  “Where are all the tourists, Mabel?” he asked. “I stockpiled camping and fishing gear and not one person has come in. It’s a beautiful day so what’s happened to everyone?”

  I looked up and down the street. It reminded me of the hours just before the fight at the OK corral. Deadly silent.

  “I don’t know, Mutt. It’s very strange. It’s like a ghost town out there.”

  “Do you think it has something to do with the murder? Maybe tourists are staying away because of that. What do you think?”

  What did I think? Wow, this had been my plan but when did any of my plans ever materialize? Never.

  “It could be. Let’s face it - would you want to stay in a town where someone had been murdered? I don’t mean in a city. If you stayed away from a city because there was a murder, you’d be staying away forever. But, a small town? I doubt I’d want to stay there. How about you, Mutt?”

  “I think you’re right, Mabel. That’s probably the reason. I hope the killer is found soon because you and I could sure use the business, couldn’t we?”

  Mutt walked into his store with his head hanging down. I took one last look down the street. The only person I could see was Charlie far down the street and even I couldn’t yell loud enough to get his attention. Flori was busy packing her cookies back into her Tupperware container when I went back inside.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  She looked up. “There’s really no need for me to leave all these cookies here, Mabel. I might as well take some back home for the kids. Some of the grandkids are coming over this afternoon and I never have enough for them to eat. Besides, it doesn’t look like anyone is going to be coming in today. I can’t figure it out, can you? I’ve never seen the town so empty on a Saturday in the summer. If this keeps up, Parson’s Cove will be a ghost town soon.”

  “I wish you’d stay a little longer. Do you have to rush home?”

  Flori hugged me. “You know I’d love to spend the whole morning with you but I’d better get back. Jake starts to panic if the kids come and I’m not there.”

  “Jake panics? How the heck did he manage with all his own children? How many did you have anyway, Flori?
Six or seven?”

  “Mabel, you are hilarious!”

  I reached behind and grabbed a handful of Kleenex because when Flori starts laughing hilariously, her tear ducts tend to burst. When she finally calmed down and the wet balled-up tissues were disposed of, I said, “Seriously, Flori, it’s seems really weird to me that Jake can’t handle his grandkids without you there for support.”

  “Actually, Jake couldn’t handle his own kids without me there, Mabel.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I must be on my way now. I’ll call later. If you’re not doing anything tonight, maybe I’ll pop over for a visit and a glass of wine. I’ll need one after this afternoon is over.”

  “Sounds good. If you happen to see any humans walking on the street along your way, send them over here. Tell them that there are…,” I checked the bowl, “eight cookies left.”

  Flori left, giggling.

  I was on my fifth cookie when the door opened and Esther Flynn walked in.

  As I’ve mentioned, Esther is my nemesis. She has been for over fifty-five years. I’m so used to hating her that I don’t think about it anymore. It just comes naturally and seems so much easier than trying to like her or understand her or search for any of her redeeming qualities.

  It all started when we were kids. You’d think she would outgrow it but she never did. Everyone said she was jealous because Flori and I were such good friends. It meant that for years I suffered through insults, frogs in my desk, my braids in her inkwell, my locker filled with mice, and as we got older, her schemes got more demonic until the last one she pulled and the one that haunts me to this day. I still can’t believe how much time she must’ve spent copying my handwriting but she did and she had it down to a ‘t.’ So good in fact, that she made two copies of a homework assignment and then secretly removed my copy and put hers in with my name on it. The next day, the principal called me to the office. Why did they think I was the one who copied and not Esther? Because Esther sat in front of me, how could she do the copying? I was given a warning. She got a bit cocky after that and by the time she’d succeeded in crushing me four more times, I was expelled.

  “It didn’t help that you kicked her in the shins, Mabel.” Flori always reminds me. “And, you hit her over the head with your binder and broke her glasses. In fact, if you’re being entirely honest, that’s the real reason you were expelled.”

  It’s true; I did all that. Nothing to be proud of but I do remember how good it felt at the time.

  “So, Miss Wickles, where are all your customers today?” Pushing her glasses up her nose, she continued, “Isn’t this your busiest day?” She stood at the door and made a dramatic sweep with her eyes around the room. “Hmmm. Not a nary customer in sight. My, oh my, what will you do?”

  “I’ll tell you what we’ll do - we’ll get rid of every customer who comes in and doesn’t buy anything. That’s what we’ll do.” I put my hands on my hips and stared at her. This isn’t easy. Not many can outstare Esther Flynn.

  “Tut, tut, Mabel. You are assuming that I’m here to gloat but I’ll have you know that I’m more mature than you think. That is something I’m sure you would do. I happen to be above that. I also happen to know what happened to all the tourists.”

  “Really? Now, how would you know that?”

  With a look of grand superiority, she lifted her already high nose a little higher and said, “Someone told a lovely elderly couple that there were ruffians cruising our streets at night so they told everyone staying at the Main Street Hotel and all of them left for home.”

  “I’m so happy you shared that with me, Esther. Please, feel free to walk about my store and if you find something you’d like to purchase, I’ll give you ten percent off.”

  “Fifty.”

  “Ten.”

  “Forty.”

  “Ten.”

  “Twenty.”

  “Ten.”

  “Oh forget it. Everything in this place is so over priced that getting ten percent off is a slap in the face.”

  “Consider yourself slapped, Esther.” I smiled. “Which reminds me of something that I wanted to ask you: What made you go over to Melanie’s car and wake her up? You know, when she was sitting in the carwash the day that Bernie was murdered. I’m sure you’ve told the police already but maybe you left something out. Do you remember exactly how Melanie reacted? In your opinion, was she truly surprised to see Bernie lying, dead in the water, or do you think that she was pretending to be asleep and that she really did hit Bernie over the head with the brick?”

  I knew she would never share any information with me but I also knew this was a sure way of getting her out of the store.

  She glared, grunted, shook her head and walked out the door, giving it a good slam in the process. I went to the window to watch her. After all, I do enjoy a bit of entertainment in my life. The thermometer that I have attached to my window read eighty-seven degrees. Esther was wearing a two-piece navy knit suit, which almost reached her ankles, a red and white scarf wrapped around her neck with red flat-heeled patent leather shoes and a wide brimmed white hat. She carried a white patent purse. Just watching her made me walk over and turn the air conditioner up.

  Ten minutes after Esther made her escape, Sheriff Smee walked in. He was still wearing his summer police attire – no tie, no gun and sandals. His top two shirt buttons were undone and he’d rolled his shirtsleeves up to the elbow. He still looked hot and uncomfortable.

  He took off his cap and fanned his face.

  “Man, I can’t take much more of this heat, Mabel. You got a cold beer?”

  “You know I don’t have a cold beer.”

  “What do you have? Got some soda pop?”

  “I’ll tell you what I’ve got – hot coffee and three chocolate cookies.”

  He sighed and put one of the chairs in front of the a/c.

  “Bring it on. Guess that’ll have to do.”

  A few minutes later, he’d gobbled down the last of the cookies and drained his coffee.

  “Well,” I said. “Doesn’t look like you were too hard done by. Those cookies disappeared fast.”

  “They were small. Besides, when I’m frustrated I eat.” He held his cup out for a refill. “I can’t figure out why they haven’t found Bernie’s killer yet. How can it be so hard? It has to be someone who probably walks past us on the street every day.”

  “Murray said he thought it was a stranger.”

  Reg shook his head. “I wish it were but I don’t think so, Mabel.” He stared down at the floor. “Nope, it has to be someone here in Parson’s Cove.”

  “Did Prunella ever say who hit her with the frying pan?”

  “No, she still claims that she fell and crawled to the bed. Maybe she really believes that she did; she was pretty high on drugs and liquor.”

  “If there weren’t any prints on the glass tumbler on the table and none on the frying pan, there’s no one to even question. I wonder if there were any witnesses though. Someone who might’ve seen a person going into her place. I should ask Charlie.”

  Reg stood up. “I’ll take a walk around town and question a few people. I think Maxymowich had his men talking to almost everyone but you never know; they might open up more to me.” He put his cap on and walked over to the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Don’t sound so discouraged. There has to be clues staring us in the face. We just can’t see them yet.”

  I looked out the window.

  “Reg, look! There’s Calvin’s taxi parked across the street. Wonder what he’s up to? I’d sure like to know what he does at night in Scooter’s garage. Those two are up to something. I wish you’d go and check them out.”

  “I’ll tell you, Mabel, if the Captain suspects them of something, I’m staying out of it. Besides, it’s not that easy to get a search warrant anymore. If I went to the garage, they wouldn’t have to let me in and there’s nothing I could do about it.”

  “I don’t know; that
doesn’t sound fair somehow.”

  “I know. Say, is that one of your cats over there by Calvin’s taxi?”

  “I’d like to say probably not because my cats stay in the yard but it does look like Sammy. I don’t know. All white cats look alike.”

  “Yeah, but who else has a white cat? What’s he doing anyway? Looks like he’s trying to scratch off Calvin’s hubcap.”

  “I’d better go over and get him before Calvin comes back. This time, he’ll give Sammy a kick for sure.”

  “This time?”

  “I didn’t tell you? Sammy snuck on the bus when we went to the city and for some reason he wanted to sniff Calvin’s shoes. Well, I guess I don’t blame Calvin; after all, it’s hard to drive with a cat attacking your feet. When Calvin went to kick him, all the old people got into an uproar. That’s one reason why he lost his job.”

  Reg looked out. “I think you’re too late, Mabel. Calvin’s coming back to his car.”

  Calvin didn’t see the cat until he walked around to the driver’s side. I watched in dread as he grabbed my cat by the scruff of the neck. Fortunately, Sheriff Smee is faster on his feet than I am. He was out the door and racing across the street before I could even get my mouth closed.

  Since Reg was handling it, I thought it might be wise to keep out of sight. (Flori would’ve been proud). It gave me great satisfaction to watch him grab Sammy out of Calvin’s clutches. I had no idea what the two men were saying to each other but it was quite animated. Twice Sammy jumped out of Reg’s arms and went back to the hubcaps. I was really beginning to think I had a demented cat. Well, if Flori could put up with her children whom I thought were demented at times, I guess I could put up with one mentally challenged cat.

  In a few minutes, Reg was back with Sammy in a football hold. Obviously, the cat didn’t like taking the place of a football. His ears were back and there was a low growl coming from somewhere in his throat.