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

by Sharon Rose

  “Doesn’t that pretty much prove that either Calvin or Scooter killed him?”

  He shrugged. “It would except for the fact that both of the men have alibis. There’s no way they could’ve been two places at once.”

  “What about Jeff? Or, Jennifer, for that matter?”

  He shook his head. “We’ve checked them out too. Jennifer was in the city where, believe it or not, she worked in a care home for the elderly. Jeff was sitting in Main Street Café most of the afternoon and there were several people who saw him.”

  I stared at him. “Jennifer looks after elderly people? I sure hope you’re checking that place out.”

  He smiled. “As we speak.”

  “This whole thing is so baffling. Parson's Cove is suffering because of it too. We used to trust all our neighbors. Now, we’re all paranoid that there’s a killer wandering the streets.”

  “I know how you feel, Mabel, and Sheriff Smee and his deputies will be increasing their patrolling time. You’ll see them out on the streets a lot more until this person is found.”

  “You mean you’re leaving and not coming back?”

  “Oh, I’ll be in touch with Reg constantly and we’ll be checking out other people of interest. The thing is, Bernie could’ve had contact with drug dealers in the city. We want to find out exactly how involved he was getting and how many enemies he really did have out there.”

  “This is getting to be too complicated. Would you like another cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks, but if you don’t mind, I wouldn’t mind having a muffin ‘to go.’”

  “I don’t mind at all. I’ll put one in a bag for you.”

  He smiled – one of his rare ‘show all your teeth’ smiles, and said, “I guess I was thinking more along the lines of ‘one bag of muffins to go.’”

  Who can resist Captain Marlow Maxymowich’s smile? I handed both bags to him and said, “Enjoy them. If you have to come back to Parson's Cove again, I’ll make sure to have more fresh muffins to go.”

  It had been a long day so after Maxymowich left, I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, made a small gin and tonic and went to bed.

  I settled in for the night. The cats were snuggled into their usual spots, and I was half way through my lovely nightcap when I heard someone opening the back door. Flori is the only person who has a key.

  “Mabel, where are you?” she screamed. “Answer me right now. Are you all right?”

  Before I had time to rush to the bathroom and pour my drink down the sink, Flori was pounding up the stairs. All I could do was set my glass on the floor as far under the bed as I could reach. I straightened up when she came puffing into my room. Her hair was sticking out in every direction and she was wearing her nightgown under a pink housecoat.

  “Flori, what on earth are you doing here at this time of night? Why didn’t you phone? You don’t even have any makeup on.”

  “I just heard now. Probably everyone in Parson's Cove knows but no one told me. And you, Mabel Wickles, didn’t even let me know. As soon as Jake came home and told me, I ran straight over here.” She rushed over to the bed and plunked down beside me, putting her arm around me. With her face about an inch away from mine, she said, “What’s that smell?”

  She sniffed the air. “Yes, there’s a definite smell coming from you. Were you in the gin again, Mabel?”

  I’d held my breath when she was near me for as long as I could and when I let out all the pent up air, she screwed up her face and said, “Phew. That’s the foulest smelling breath I’ve ever smelled.”

  “Flori,” I said. “Did you want to hear about my harrowing near death experience or do want to continue smelling my breath?”

  “All right, I want to hear but we’ll talk about the other before I leave.” She grabbed my hand and held on. “Please, tell me it isn’t true that Scooter shoved a knife into your throat.”

  As if the reality of it just sank in, she lifted her hand and pushed up my chin to check for scars. Or, knowing Flori, maybe dried blood.

  “I can’t see anything,” she said. “So, did he poke your neck with his knife or not?”

  “Well, not really. I think he tried to but my feet were asleep so he had to hold me up and I guess it’s kind of hard to slit someone’s throat and hold them up at the same time.”

  Flori’s color changed from white to pink and then back to white. “He tried to slit your throat?”

  “No, Flori. You know Scooter; he’s a big talker. I was a little nervous when he made me go up the stairs and said he’d have the knife in my back though.”

  “Oh my lord, what did you do?”

  “There really wasn’t much to worry about. Five cops were at the top of the stairs with guns pointed down at us. If Scooter would’ve knifed me, five guns would have gone off and Scooter would be plastered all over Krueger’s basement walls.”

  “Oh Mabel, what a dreadful thing to say. How can you be so blasé about the whole thing? He could’ve killed you. But what I can’t understand is, why were you in Krueger’s house in the first place? And, what on earth were you doing in the basement? Did Scooter force you to go down there?”

  “No, I was following Reg’s orders, Flori. He wanted me to check out the house. I told you we were working together to solve this murder, didn’t I?”

  “Well, I’ll have Jake talk to Reg about that. There’s no way he’s going to get you to go into dangerous places anymore. He’s sending you in so he doesn’t have to go. And, sending a woman? That’s plain sinful; that’s what it is.”

  “No, Flori, whatever you do, don’t talk to Jake. It’s no big deal. He didn’t send me in because I’m a woman. Now, I want you to go home and go back to bed. Don’t forget, I have to go to work tomorrow and I really need to sleep.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I am being selfish, aren’t I? You’ve had a terrible day and I should let you sleep and recover. I’ll bring a treat over to the shop in the morning to have with our coffee.”

  “Thanks, Flori, you’re a sweetheart. I knew you’d understand.”

  She stood up.

  “We’ll discuss the gin in the morning too.”

  I didn’t reach for my gin and tonic until after I heard Flori yell up that she was locking the door. I picked the glass up and stared at it. There were about three swallows left. I looked down at the floor. Nothing had spilled.

  A slightly inebriated orange and white cat sat looking up at me. She blinked several times, yawned, and without doing her usual turnabout, sank to the floor. I wasn’t exactly sure what I should do but since most drunks just need to sleep it off, I thought I’d give that a go.

  I was too lazy to wash and refill my drink so I put the glass on the table, shut the light off and listened to Daisy snore until I fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Daisy was still snoring when a loud crack on the window jolted me out of my sleep. It sounded like a shotgun going off. I jumped out of bed making sure whoever was outside couldn’t see me as I inched toward the window. I was about to peek around my curtain when there was another sharp smacking sound on the glass. By now, I was awake enough to realize a bullet would’ve went through the glass. I looked down below.

  Charlie Thompson was standing below my window, looking up. I opened the window.

  “Charlie, what are you doing down there?”

  “You have to come, Mabel.”

  I glanced at the clock. It was ten after three.

  “Couldn’t it wait until morning? I just got to sleep.”

  He shook his head. It was a good thing that the moon was so bright because knowing Charlie, he might not speak again.

  “Okay, wait there. I’ll be right down.”

  I slipped my jeans over my nightgown and shoved my feet into my runners. No socks and no underwear but who would see me running around Parson's Cove at this time of night?

  Three cats went out the door as soon as I opened it and I did not intend to chase after them. I ran around the corner
of the house and almost knocked Charlie over.

  “What’s the matter, Charlie? Don’t tell me you found a body or something like that.”

  Charlie didn’t say a word; he just took off at a very brisk walk. With my short legs, I almost had to run to keep up. Whatever was so important was down by the lake because that seemed to be where we were heading. We reached the beach and he kept walking down towards his house.

  By this time, I was starting to huff and puff. “Are we almost there?” I asked.

  Charlie stopped so suddenly in front of me that I smacked into him. He didn’t speak; just stood there, so I carefully craned my neck around his body. Someone was sitting on the beach. I couldn’t make out who it was until I heard the voice.

  “Charlie,” I whispered. “That’s Murray down there. He’s saying the Lord’s prayer. Why did you come to get me? Erma should be with him.”

  Charlie shook his head. “She wouldn’t answer the door.” He turned to face me. “See if you can help, Mabel. He didn’t do it.”

  “He didn’t do what?” But it was too late. As soon as Charlie uttered the last sentence, he disappeared up the bank and was gone. I turned to face Murray, the moment Murray looked up and saw me.

  “Mabel,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  The moonlight was bright enough to show the tears running down his face.

  I walked up to him but cautiously because I remembered our last encounter.

  “Murray, I’m your friend. Charlie is, too. He saw you down here and he was worried. He came to tell me because I’m about the only friend he has. He didn’t know what else to do.”

  Murray’s hand trembled as he wiped his cheeks. He’d changed so much during the past few days that I might’ve walked by him on the street and thought it was a stranger.

  He looked very vulnerable so without any thought of danger, I sat down beside him.

  “What’s going on, my friend?” I said. “You are not yourself. Erma is very worried about you.”

  He looked over at me. “Erma isn’t worried about me. She thinks that I killed Bernie.”

  “No, I’m sure she doesn’t. She’s your wife and she loves you, Murray. She got some pills from Fritzy to help you sleep. I know she doesn’t think that you killed Bernie. Why would she think that?”

  “Because Bernie killed Biscuit so she thinks I killed Bernie because of that.”

  “Bernie killed Biscuit? Are you sure? Why would he do that?”

  Murray sighed and a few more tears spilled out.

  “On that day, Erma took Biscuit for a walk. She never took him for a walk but she did that day. She was across from Krueger’s old house when Biscuit ran after Bernie and started biting his shoes. He pulled one right off his foot and started shaking it. Apparently, Bernie got so mad that he ran and picked up a brick and hit Biscuit with it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the police this, Murray?”

  “Erma told me not to tell anyone. She said that if I did, it would look very suspicious for me. I’d have the motive and the brick was by my house. It’s the same brick that someone used to kill Bernie.”

  I patted him on the back. “Murray, no one would suspect you. Besides, the police have to have proof. The cops from the city are gone but I think, in the morning, you’d better go and have a talk with Reg. You can’t go on like this; you’ll have some sort of breakdown.”

  “I’m not having a breakdown. It’s those pills Erma is giving me. I feel drugged all the time and feel like life isn’t worth living. This is the first time in my life that I’ve ever had suicidal thoughts.” He grabbed my hand. “This isn’t me. I felt bad about my dog but I didn’t need all these drugs to cope.” His hand tightened on mine. “I mean it, Mabel, it’s the pills.”

  “When did Erma start giving them to you?”

  He rubbed his temple with his hands. “I think it was before Biscuit was killed. First, she told me they were for my allergies. Then, afterwards, she admitted that they were for my nerves. Then, she said some were vitamins. She was afraid I’d crack up when I heard about Biscuit so she made sure I took something before I found out.”

  “Are you telling me that she ran over to Doc’s clinic to get these pills before Biscuit was even dead?”

  He looked confused. “I don’t understand this. Why would she do that?”

  I smiled at him. “Murray, Erma loves you so much. I think she’s a little over-protective. You’ll have to forgive her for that. If I were you, I’d go into your gazebo in the back yard and try to get some sleep. You don’t want to disturb Erma, do you?”

  He shook his head. “I won’t disturb Erma; she took off earlier to go to visit her mother in Chicago.”

  “Really? Well, you head right back to bed then and don’t worry about anything. Everything will be sorted out in the morning.”

  A smile crossed his face. “Thanks. You called me your friend, Mabel, and I know that you are.”

  I don’t think I’m getting soft in my old age but I couldn’t help wrapping my arms around Murray.

  I watched for a few minutes to make sure he was walking in the right direction and then I raced off to Doc Fritz’s house. It must’ve been close to four by now but it didn’t matter anyway.

  I think Fritz’ wife’s name is Gloria. I should know it. I mean, we’re a small town where everyone knows everyone. However, not that many people know Gloria. Patty, who publishes the Parson's Cove Weekly, says she’s a recluse and not only that, a hoarder. Well, I don’t believe everything Patty says but in this case, I do.

  When they arrived about five years ago, they bought the house closest to the hospital. At least, the closest one that was for sale. It’s an old monstrosity of a place and every generation of kids believes that it’s haunted. My generation included.

  Since old emotions never seem to leave a person entirely, I opened the gate and walked up the pathway with some trepidation. The silver moon cast an eerie glow over everything. The house stood towards the back of the street with large shade trees surrounding it. If I heard any sound at all now, I would simply die from fright. I had too many memories of going up this path on a dare and someone letting out a high-pitched scream as I reached for the doorknob.

  I picked up the doorknocker and rapped the wooden door with it. I decided to keep this up until Fritz answered. After banging it for at least twenty times, I decided to try something different. I found the doorknob and turned it. The door opened.

  “Fritzy,” I yelled into the darkness. “Are you home?”

  From somewhere within the house, I heard the patter of feet and within seconds, the doctor stood staring at me. He moved his hand and lights went on.

  Doc Fritz stood before me in baby blue pajamas with fuzzy blue slippers on his feet.

  “Mabel,” he said, with a bewildered look on his face, “What are you doing here?”

  “Doc,” I said. “I apologize for waking you up but this is very important. Did you give Erma McFerguson pills for Murray? Do you remember? It’s important in solving a murder and I have to know before the murderer disappears in the streets of Chicago.”

  “Well, that does sound important. We certainly wouldn’t want a murderer running loose in Chicago, would we? Miss Wickles, I’ll have you know that I am not a pill pusher. I have never spoken to Erma McFerguson nor have I prescribed any drugs for her husband. I have no idea where you would get such an idea.”

  “Thank you so much. You can go back to bed now. I won’t bother you again.”

  My next stop was Sheriff Smee’s house and he was not as easy to awaken from sleep as Fritzy. Finally, after knocking, ringing the bell at the front door and throwing stones at the windows, he came to the door.

  “Boy, Reg, if there were ever an emergency around here, you are definitely the last person I would try to contact. I’ve been standing here for at least ten minutes.”

  “Actually, Mabel, I did hear you but I thought it was just some punk kids playing pranks. Okay, so it’s you. What do you wan
t?”

  “What do I want? I want to tell you who killed Bernie Bernstein, that’s what I want to tell you.”

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Four days later, with a smile as wide as the Mississippi in springtime, Sheriff Reg Smee entered my shop. It was 9:06 to be exact. I know because I looked up at the clock wondering who was opening my door so early in the morning.

  “Well, Mabel,” he said. “The carwash murder is all wrapped up! The mystery is solved; thanks to a very bright amateur sleuth and a very discerning small town sheriff.”

  I imagine my smile matched the sheriff’s smile. “Sheriff, let’s celebrate with a cup of freshly brewed coffee and a slightly stale apple muffin.”

  “Stale?”

  “Don’t sound so disappointed. You know my muffins are always delicious. Sit down and I’ll start you off with your coffee. Meanwhile, you get all your thoughts straight so you can tell me exactly what happened.”

  In less than five minutes, we were sitting facing each other, coffee in hand.

  “Okay, Reg. Was I right? Did Erma kill Bernie?”

  “Yes, you were right.” He took a bite of muffin.

  “What about Biscuit? Who killed Biscuit?”

  He swallowed and washed everything down with a big gulp of coffee.

  “Can I finish eating first?”

  There were three more muffins on the plate. He held half of one in his hand.

  “Of course, you can.” I picked up the plate and took it to the back room.

  “Hey! I might want more than one muffin, you know.”

  I sat back down again. “And you may have more than one after you tell me the whole story, Reg.”

  Reg laughed. “You’re a tough one, Mabel, but since you probably did the most work solving the case, I guess you should get to know all the details.”

  “Yes, I think I should. Now, start from the beginning. What exactly happened the day that Bernie was murdered?”