Fetch a Pail of Murder (We're Not Dead Yet Club Book 1)

by Constance Barker

  “Me? Yeah, I couldn’t stay away too long. Besides you reach a time when just travelling around doesn’t float your boat anymore. I settled back down here probably about twenty – twenty-five – years ago.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I hesitated, perhaps a little too long, as my mind skimmed back to the well and Hazel’s constant insistence over the twenty year mark. I hadn’t even noticed Cecil watching me out of the corner of his eye until he spoke again.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “Hmmm?”

  Cecil smiled. “There’s something you want to ask me – I can see it in your eyes.”

  “It’s nothing. I just…” I paused again, stuttering under Cecil’s stare. “I was wondering if anyone’s gone missing in the last twenty years.”

  Cecil leaned back and smiled knowingly. “This is about the well, isn’t it? What’s up? You got a taste of the thrill of the crime now?”

  I tried to seem casual, shrugging my shoulders and staring down at the floor, but I’m not sure I convinced him. “It’s just unfinished business, you know? I hate it when things aren’t resolved – particularly when they happen to me…”

  “Right,’ Cecil replied. “Well your problem isn’t whether someone went missing – I mean people go missing all the time. Hell, I disappeared for years and no one batted an eyelid…”

  “But what about those where people did care? Were there any times when there was a bit of a commotion about it?”

  Cecil eyed me curiously. “Now you come to mention it, there was one time…”

  “Really?” I replied, instinctively leaning forward and peering hard into Cecil’s eyes. “Do tell…”

  I found the girls back in the library. They were sat at a small table near the entrance, deep in conversation, and immediately leapt into a hurried explanation as I arrived.

  “Clara,” Hazel burst out. “Have we got news for you…”

  “We found him,” Ida May put in. “There was a missing person…”

  “Twenty years ago, just as I said…”

  “A postal worker…”

  “There was a big hubbub about it. It was front page news across the state…”

  “I thought I remembered something about it…”

  “So, we looked it up…”

  “And – get this – the guy hasn’t been seen that whole time. Not one sighting in twenty years.”

  “But the guy was so popular. Everyone seemed to like him…”

  “And do you want to know what his name is?”

  I took a seat down opposite the two of them. “Patrick Sheridan?”

  Their faces dropped in an instant. Hazel almost looked like she was going to cry:

  “How did you know?”

  “Cecil told me. Apparently it was big news back then. The family even put out a reward for any information…”

  “They did,” interrupted Ida May. “Not much mind, but enough.” She reached out for a printout that she pushed towards me. “But there’s more. Our lovely butler? He’s got a record.”

  “What?” I stared down at the printout. It was a snippet from a newspaper article that had a picture of Don being dragged into a police station attached to it. “What did he do?”

  “Check fraud,” Ida May replied. “He was caught cashing checks to accounts that hadn’t existed for years.”

  Hazel chipped in: “Didn’t you know?”

  “No,” I replied, shaking my head slowly. “Aunt Ruby never said anything.” I thought a little longer. “But it explains Milton’s attitude.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Ida May.

  “Well, Cecil told me that Milton never liked Don – even from the beginning. Apparently he used to try to convince Aunt Ruby to get rid of him, but she never did. When they were walking back up to the house this morning, Milton said to Percy that he thought it was deeply suspicious that Don took over the moment the body was found. Almost like he was trying to hide something…”

  “That’s silly,” Hazel replied, looking surprisingly hurt by the comment. “He was doing the right thing. We heard Jasper say so, didn’t we Ida May?”

  “That’s right,” confirmed the other. “Still, it gives us an angle to pursue.”

  “Brilliant. So, we have a body identity and a suspect…”

  “Potential body identity…”

  “What do we do now, Clara?”

  The pair of them turned towards me in unison. To be frank, I hadn’t given it much thought. I was still reeling from the idea that Don was anything other than the straight up guy who had served Aunt Ruby so well for all those years. I thought hard for a few seconds, but – despite my best intentions – the picture wasn’t getting any clearer for me…

  “What we really need to find out is what Jasper knows,” I announced.

  “Didn’t he tell you anything?” Ida May asked.

  “I think he wanted to, but his professionalism got in the way. I did manage to find out that they think there’s a whole body down that well, though…”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  “Hmmm,” I replied. “But we need to know more. We’re working in the dark at the moment. If we can’t see his side of things, we may as well not bother at all…”

  Hazel hummed quietly. “What about Cecil? He might know?”

  Ida May and I stopped and turned towards her.

  “Cecil?” Ida May asked. “Why?”

  “Well, he’s Jasper’s father, isn’t he? If he was going talk to anyone about what he found, he’s most likely going to tell him. Or am I wrong…?”

  I burst out laughing. “Hazel, you’re a genius…”

  Ida May nodded enthusiastically. “What made you think of that?”

  Hazel let loose a massive beam of a smile and turned slowly towards Ida May. “Four of diamonds,” she replied.

  Ida May’s reaction was predictably loud and bitter:

  “God dammit, Hazel. Stop being so irritating!”

  “Shhh.” The voice of the receptionist echoed across the room towards us. “Silence in the library!”

  Chapter Seve n– What the Dealer Had to Say

  The three of us left the library with the skip of excitement in our steps and the gleam of mischief in our eyes. It was only when we were safely around the corner and out of sight of the library doors that Ida May dived into her handbag and scooped out the microfilm that she had “temporarily liberated” from the archives. We thought it was so good-heartedly playful at the time, but in hindsight it was probably more irresponsible than any of us would care to admit. Still, it put the thrill of the chase in our minds and the will to succeed in our hearts. Even as we turned down the street and made our way back towards the Senior Center, we didn’t see the suited man walking the other way until it was too late.

  “Hey…”

  Ida May clattered to the floor, reaching up and pulling Hazel down with her. The pair landed awkwardly on the sidewalk as the suited man struggled to maintain his own balance and his suitcase clattered to the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” he called out apologetically, holding out a hand to help Ida May up. “I was miles away…”

  Ida May batted the man’s hand out of the way and, in a rather undignified manner, swung open her legs, dug her heels into the ground and hoisted herself back to her feet, leaving Hazel still writhing on the floor.

  “You blithering idiot…”

  “I’m really am sorry madam. I don’t know what else to say…”

  “You could have brained me and my friend!”

  His eyes scuttled over to Hazel as she lay on the floor, her chest rising and falling quickly as she giggled incessantly on the ground. I couldn’t help thinking that he was probably thinking – as I admittedly was too at that moment – that Ida May couldn’t have been that concerned for Hazel if she was willing to leave her on the cold ground for so long.

  I quickly bent down and gently hoisted Hazel up to a sitting position. As we readied to lever her up, the man took her u
nder her other arm and – between the two of us – we lifted her to her feet. Despite Ida May’s stone cold glare, Hazel seemed to be rather enjoying herself.

  “This is great fun, this detective malarkey, don’t you think girls?”

  “Detective?”

  The man stared curiously between the three of us, his mouth forming into a slight smile as he silently, and cheerily, judged us.

  He wasn’t a young man, but I wouldn’t have said he was old either. He was probably somewhere in his mid to late fifties – you know, that middle ground where men are past that youthful stage and are just waiting for retirement to come along. And yet, he seemed to be a man who had taken care of himself. His jet black hair was neatly combed over, his face looked moisturized and clean and his body had the tone of a man who worked hard to keep himself physically well-shaped.

  “Do I know you?” I asked.

  The man looked at me for a long hard, his eyes quivering back and forth across my face. “I don’t think so,” he replied. “Maybe you know my mother – Vera Landsborough…”

  “Vera?” I shot back. “You’re Vera’s boy? Thomas?”

  The suited man nodded. I turned to my friends who, watched me with wide eyes and expectant expressions.

  “Vera is… was… Aunt Ruby’s neighbor…”

  “Wait,” Thomas held up a hand towards me. Behind his eyes I could see he was figuring something out. “You’re not Clara are you? Ruby’s niece?”

  “The very same…”

  His face broke out into a large smile.

  “Wow. Ruby used to talk about you a lot… Well, not a lot, but sometimes. How are you?”

  I nodded feverishly. “I’m good. And you? You’re in furniture sales or something aren’t you?”

  He smiled. “Or something. I deal in antiques.”

  “Oh, that’ll be helpful,” muttered Ida May, still watching Thomas with suspicious eyes. “Perhaps you can find a buyer for Hazel here…”

  “Hey…”

  Thomas laughed. “I’m afraid not. Something this valuable, I don’t think I’d ever be able to find a rich enough buyer…”

  If he’d hoped that his charm would endear him to Ida May, he was very wrong. She watched him out of her eyes, surveying him like a bug that needed to be squashed. Hazel, on the other hand, seemed overjoyed at the attention and promptly burst into another fit of giggles.

  “So,” she said eventually, “you’re Tom Landsborough?”

  “That’s right, madam,” he replied, puffing out his chest and grabbing hold of the openings of his jacket. “At you’re humble service.” He peered at each of us in turn. “Did I hear you right, you’re some kind of detectives?”

  “Yes,” Hazel replied instinctively.

  “No,” Ida May quickly said.

  I gave him a brief smile and a shrug. “Just a private joke between us girls.”

  Thomas smiled. “I see.”

  Hazel stepped forward, her eyes drifting up and down his body until they settled on a small pin above his left breast pocket. The pin, although very small, bore the distinctive mark of a letter “T” woven with a letter “L”. Hazel stared at it for a long time.

  “What is this?”

  Thomas looked down. “That?” he replied pointing at the pin. “That is the logo for my antiques store. I wear it whenever I can – always helps to have a bit of free marketing when moving around town…”

  Hazel nodded. “It’s rather intricate. I bet lots of shops use this design…”

  “Nope,” Thomas replied proudly. “That’s a bespoke design. Created for me and my shop alone. No one else has that design, you rest assured.”

  Hazel smiled and took a few steps back. In less than a second, her mind seemed to wander somewhere else and she started to move away from us to inspect a shop storefront a little further down the street.

  Thomas watched her with interest before letting out a small laugh. “She’s a queer thing, isn’t she?”

  “She’s had a lot of shocks today,” I replied.

  “Shocks?”

  Ida May answered his questioning look: “You heard about the body in Ruby’s well?”

  “Ah,” Thomas replied, taking a slight step back and plunging his hands into his pockets. “Yes, of course. A terrible thing. To think that the body had been lying in that well for God knows how long – right under our noses. It’s awful…”

  He looked from Ida May to myself.

  “Do the police know who it is yet?”

  “No,” Ida May quickly fired at him. “Do you know?”

  Thomas let loose a small smile. “I wish I did. As much as I like to claim being brilliant and a genius, I think it’s even beyond my powers to guess who that poor man must be.”

  “We think we know who it is.”

  Thomas turned to Ida May, his eyes widening with curiosity.

  “You do?”

  I nodded. “Patrick Sheridan. He was a postal worker who went missing about twenty years ago.”

  “You don’t say?” He replied. “What makes you think that?”

  “Lucky guess,” Ida May shot back.

  “You don’t happen to remember anything about his disappearance, do you?”

  Thomas thought for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “Can’t say I do.”

  “Are you sure?” Ida May asked. “It was big news twenty years ago.”

  Thomas thought again and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess my memory isn’t as good as it used to be.” He turned back towards me. “I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to Don about it, have you?”

  My ears pricked up – so did Ida May’s. In fact, unless I was very much mistaken, even Hazel stopped staring in through the shop window to listen in to our conversation.

  “No,” I replied. “Why?”

  Thomas shrugged again. “I never trusted the man. Odd things always seemed to happen around him – like that burglary at Ruby’s house a while back.”

  “Burglary?” I repeated. “Aunt Ruby never said anything about a burglary.”

  “Oh…” Thomas stared wide-eyed at me, his mouth falling open slightly. “I figured you’d been told… Sorry, excuse me. It wasn’t my place to say anything.”

  He quickly bent down and scooped up his briefcase, pressing it firmly against his chest and taking a few steps back.

  “I’m really sorry. Forget I said anything...” He nodded briefly and courteously to the both of us. “Have a good day, ladies.”

  With that, he turned on his heels and quickly scooted off up the street, stopping only to bid his farewells to Hazel before vanishing around the corner and out of sight. Ida May and I watched until he was completely gone before turning to each other, both of us raising an intrigued eyebrow.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Ida May noted.

  I had to agree.

  We slowly moved up the street to join Hazel who, far from examining items in the window, seemed to be examining her own reflection in the glass. She turned herself back and forth, fiddling with her orange sweater until, finally she span around towards Ida May and said:

  “You know what? I think you’re right, Ida May.”

  Ida May seemed genuinely shocked by the sudden outburst. “I am?”

  Hazel nodded confidently. “I really was terrible at knitting.”

  Ida May chuckled. “You’re not that much better at card tricks. Or being a detective for that matter.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Hazel replied, turning again to examine her reflection. “I think everything’s falling into place.”

  “Are you talking about the trick or the case?”

  Hazel turned towards me, raised a single finger and waggled it back and forth. “I think I had better go home to change. See you at the Center later?”

  She didn’t wait for our reply. Just as Thomas had done before, she turned away and headed quickly off down the street. Ida May was completely dumbstruck – unable to speak until Hazel was well out of earshot.

  “Crazy gir
l,” she replied. “That’s not even her way home!”

  “Ours is not to reason why…”

  Ida May let out a single laugh as she raised her wrist and examined her watch. “I’d best be off too,” she announced, pulling her coat tighter around her chest. “I’m meeting Lucy for a coffee.”

  “What? Now?”

  “Why not?” she fired back. “I gotta spend time with my granddaughter some time. Patrick Sheridan waited twenty years – he can wait a while longer.”

  And that was that. A moment later, I was left standing alone on the street. Hazel had gone one way – Ida May had gone the other. And I was in the middle, with nowhere to go. That was until an idea sprang into my head – one of those small ones that seem so devilishly good at the time, but given the circumstance wasn’t really my wisest idea.

  I hadn’t had tea at Aunt Ruby’s house in so long.

  I wonder if Don is at home…?

  Chapter Eight – A Little Bit of Drama

  I don’t know exactly what happened when Ida May met up with her granddaughter, Lucy. She didn’t say much when we met up again later, but I was able to piece together something of an explanation of those few hours. You might say that I know Ida May well enough that I can predict most of what she might do under certain circumstances, but the truth is that Lucy filled me in on most of it many weeks later.

  And the rest? Well, a girl is allowed to be a little flexible with the narrative, isn’t she?

  “Grandma!”

  “Hello, darling.”

  Lucy was in her early twenties – good-looking and very bright, and she had Ida May’s wicked sense of style. As soon as she saw her coming round the corner, she leapt up from her table outside the coffee shop and wrapped her arms tightly around her aging grandmother. Ida May allowed her to hold on for a few seconds, before gently – yet firmly – removing Lucy’s arms from around her waist and forcing her back a step or two.

  She looked her granddaughter up and down, her eyes scanning every inch of her body until they settled on a spot just to once side of her waist.

  “You’ve had another tattoo.”

  Lucy was shocked for a moment, her hand instinctively darting to her side even though her shirt covered the skin beneath. In the next instance, her face broadened into a curious smile and she let out a small chuckle.