The Traveling Corpse

by Double Edge Press

  “Have you got a story for us, Mr. B?” Annie asked.

  Brad said, “Tell them the one you told me yesterday about the golfers. That’s a good one.”

  Mr. B thought for a moment, unconsciously pushed against his upper plate with his tongue, then he began: “There were these four old men who liked to golf together. But, one day three of them were full of complaints. The first one griped, ‘These hills are getting steeper as the years go by.’ The second one said, ‘These fairways seem to be getting longer.’ The third one belly-ached, ‘The sand traps seem to be bigger than I remember them.’ After hearing enough from his senior buddies, the oldest and the wisest of the four of them at 90 years old, piped up and said, ‘Just be thankful we’re still on the right side of the grass!’”

  After a good laugh, Mr. B moved on to sit with his old friends. Annie then asked DeeDee and Verna, “Will the two of you help Barb and me after Coffee? We need to decorate Old Main. It shouldn’t take long for us to take down the winter decorations and put up the February ones. It’s just for this one month. The woman who is in charge has the flu; so I promised to do the decorating for her.”

  “Who did you say has the flu?” Verna asked.

  “Edna Evans.”

  “I can’t place her.”

  “She’s short, a little over-weight, gray hair and wears glasses,” Annie said.

  Barb shook her head, “Annie, you just described most of the women in BradLee!”

  “I did, didn’t I?” Annie laughed. “All except you, Barb, my elegant five-foot ten-inch friend.” She turned to the men and said, “We need your help too, please.”

  Art shrugged, “Count me in.”

  Doc begged off, “I’ll be cooking all day for our park dinner tonight.”

  Brad reminded them that he always had a Board workshop after Coffee on the last Wednesday of the month.

  Von started to excuse himself, saying, “I’ve got to help Tom-Tom.” Tom-Tom was the chairman of the crew of volunteers who set up the tables and chairs or took them down in Old Main, depending on the activity—a dinner, a meeting, or a dance. He was nicknamed Tom-Tom because his Welsh parents had him Christened, Thomas Thomas.

  “Well, it shouldn’t take you much time this morning,” Verna reminded him. “You won’t have to take the tables down since they’ll need them up for the dinnah tonight.”

  “True,” Von said. “I’ll straighten up the room, sweep it out; then I’ll come help you.”

  “Such a busy bunch of friends I have!” Annie said. “Besides hanging the Valentine decorations, I’d like to take everything out of that tenth drawer to see what’s what. Somehow, I was rudely interrupted when I tried to do it last night at Bingo!”

  They all laughed nervous little laughs at Annie’s joke on herself.

  “Now that we have that settled, I have another question. Have any of you heard any scuttlebutt about a missing person, a missing woman?”

  Barb answered, “People were talking about the deputies coming to Bingo and looking in the trolley drawers, but nobody seems to know what it was all about, but I didn’t hear any talk about a missing person.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Not a word.”

  “That’s good, and that’s bad,” Annie said. “It’s good that they don’t know why the law showed up at Bingo, but it’s not so good for our mystery if nobody is reported missing.” She turned to Brad, “Will you let me know if anything comes up at your meeting that might help us with our secret problem?”

  “Will do. You’d think there would be a missing person alert by now. Wouldn’t you?”

  Von asked, “Don’t you have to wait twenty-four hours before reporting a missing person? It hasn’t been quite that long yet, has it?”

  “No, a whole day hasn’t passed yet. I found the body just before six o’clock last evening,” Annie said. “Of course, we don’t know just what time the—let’s call it an accident— happened. After all the excitement yesterday, I had a very hard time getting to sleep last night. At two a.m., for no particular reason, I started wondering if the missing woman was a WASP or a WEC?

  The four men looked at each other, wondering what she was talking about. Brad questioned Art, “What do those initials stand for?”

  Art shrugged his shoulders, “Annie, what in the world are you asking a question like that for?

  “Oh,” she explained, “Last week after we gals finished playing bridge, we started philosophizing about what kind of people choose to retire in BradLee. You know, demographics. And Verna said that most people describe those of us who live in BradLee as WASPs—White Anglo Saxon Protestants. Do you want to explain your idea, Verna?”

  “I’ll try. The majority of people who live in BradLee are Protestants, but there are a lot of us who aren’t. We’re Roman Catholic; so WASP doesn’t describe us. I think we need a new set of initials that fits our demographics; so I made one up.”

  Von teased his wife, “You do like that big word, demographics, don’t you?”

  Verna pushed her glasses up on her nose and ignored her husband’s teasing.

  Barb continued the story, “I asked Verna for her suggestion, and she said she thought WECs would do.”

  DeeDee joined in, “An’ I asked, ‘Jest exactly what does WEC stand fer?’”

  Verna answered, “It stands for: White European Christians. Or, even bettah, we could put a “Mc” in front of that.”

  DeeDee asked, “An’ jest what would that make it?”

  With a smile, Verna said, “McWECs stands for Middle-class White European Christians.”

  DeeDee was enjoying the word play. Her eyes twinkled as she said, “I can make that even better. If ya add an ‘O’ in front of those letters, you’ll have a perfect description of all of us here in BradLee.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” Brad said. “What do all those letters stand for?”

  “O’McWEC stands for Old Middle-Class White European Christians!”

  The eight friends burst out laughing. O’McWEC was a fit description for their homogenous adult retirement community.

  Then Annie became more serious, “I’m still thinking about our disappearing victim. Do you think that our unknown corpse is a WASP or a WEC?”

  Barb answered, “I wish we could answer that, then we might be able to give her a name.”

  Annie replied, “We’re not sure, but we may know it. Earlier this morning, DeeDee and I were talking about a new resident we met the other day at Hobby Club. We think her name is Twila, not sure about her last name.”

  Verna broke in, “It might be Thompson. I’ve nevah met the woman, but there’s a Twila Thompson on my golf scramble team this month. I’ll meet her later this week.”

  Surprised, Brad asked, “Did you say Twila Thompson? That’s the name of the retired CPA that the Board wants to appoint as Karl’s Bingo assistant. It hasn’t been announced yet. We’ll meet her at the workshop today.”

  “I hope she shows,” Annie muttered.

  Brad was stunned. “You don’t have any reason to think she won’t be there, do you?”

  “Nothing definite,” Annie answered. “It was just that after DeeDee mentioned her this morning, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I don’t know why, but like earlier this morning, I wondered if she were a WASP or a WEC.”

  “Well, she moved to BradLee after her husband died because her brother lives here.”

  “We heard that. Who’s her brother?”

  “Tony Tuckman,” Brad answered. “You might know his wife, Tilley; she’s in Hobby Club. He used to be very active in the park—was treasurer of the Board for several years. His health isn’t good now, but his mind is alert as ever.” Brad also told his friends that Paul, the president of their park, went to Tony to ask his advice. Paul wanted him to suggest someone qualified to work with Karl and to organize the Bingo books. Tony immediately recommended his sister, Twila Thompson. She’s a new resident in the park; so she isn’t too busy yet. He also gave her credentials, a Mast
er’s in Business and a Certified Public Accountant, a CPA. When her husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, she retired early from a large insurance corporation in New England to take care of him. After his death, she decided to move to Florida and came to BradLee since her brother and wife live here.

  “That’s good to know,” Annie said.

  “But,” DeeDee said, “although it doesn’t seem important, but we still don’t know if this Twila is a WASP or a WEC?”

  “I don’t know for sure either,” Brad answered, “but her brother goes to the Congregational Church; so I’d guess that she’s a WASP.”

  “Does that information help any in solving your murder?” Barb asked.

  “Probably not,” Annie replied with a sigh. “I wish I’d learn something that would. I, I mean, we—we just have to keep working on this—all of us. I can’t do it alone, and I can’t quit. Something bad has taken place. It needs to be resolved.”

  “I think the word we need here is perseverance,” Barb said. “You know I’m teaching the Senior High kids in Sunday School this year at First Methodist. Our lesson for next Sunday is based on James 1:2-3 ‘Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.’”

  “That’s a wonderful verse,” DeeDee said. “Let’s don’t give up. Let’s all persevere an’ help Annie solve tha case of Tha Travelin’ Corpse!” She raised her empty coffee cup in a mock toast.

  The rest of the gang joined her, raising their mugs, and saying, “Here. Here.”

  * * *

  At nine o’clock, Nelly, the Activities Chair, moved to the podium and rapped for quiet. She introduced one of the retired ministers living in the park. He asked all to stand for a short blessing. Then all of the U.S. citizens put their hands over their hearts, faced the American flag, and recited the Pledge of Allegiance while the many Canadian snowbirds who were present stood respectfully.

  Nelly pulled a number at random out of a small wooden bottle and called out, “Table Number 5.” All those seated in Row 5 got up, cheering because they were lucky enough to be called first to go through the food line. Like Annie, most of the seniors brought a coffee mug with them. It was their way of helping the environment by not using plastic cups.

  The line snaked along the east wall and into the Annex, the room behind the stage, where you picked up a doughnut or opted for an order of toast. There was always a variety of doughnuts to choose from—plain cake doughnuts, glazed, lemon or jelly-filled, buttermilk puffs, blueberry ones, some gooey with icing dripping off or with candy sprinkles. The jelly ones were usually chosen first and were long gone before those seniors sitting at the last table got their turn to go through the line. After picking up a doughnut, you followed the line back into the big clubroom, passing between the stage and the kitchen on the west side of the room. At the kitchen snack window, volunteers filled your mug with steaming coffee. You had your choice of ‘leaded’ or ‘unleaded’—regular or decaf. Packets of creamers and sugars along with plastic stirrers were on each table.

  “Art really hopes we’re not the last table called this morning. I got him up so early, he’s starved,” said Annie. “Keep your fingers crossed.”

  “When you’re tha last table called, all that’s left is jest plain ole doughnuts. My favorites are tha ones frosted with lots of chocolate icin’!” DeeDee said, licking her lips.

  “I suppose you like lots of sprinkles, too,” teased Verna.

  “Naw, they are jest too fattin’!” retorted DeeDee with an impish grin.

  They were delighted when Nelly called number seven next—their table’s number. As Verna was waiting in line for her coffee, she overheard two women that she knew talking about Kitty Kreeger. “Excuse me,” Verna interrupted. “Did I hear you say that the Kreegah’s are moving out of the park? Leaving BradLee?”

  Verna and the two women moved to one side to visit. Then Verna hurried back to her table to pass on this bit of surprising information. “Listen to this gang,” she said excitedly. “I just heard some friends of mine talking about Kitty Kreegah, and they say the Kreegahs definitely are moving out of BradLee. We were just talking about them at bridge on Monday; remembah I told you I saw a ‘For Sale’ sign on their house? We were just hoping that they were going to put up a new, bigger mobile home right here in the park, not move away!”

  “That’s a s’prise,” said DeeDee in amazement. “Whatal happen ta Bingo?”

  “Barb turned and looked at her husband and quietly asked, “Did you know about this?”

  “Just heard about it now from Paul as I was getting my coffee. He thinks the sooner he gets the word out that we need a new leader for Bingo, the better. When Nelly calls for announcements, Paul plans to speak.

  DeeDee asked, “Do ya suppose that havin’ an assistant shoved on Karl made him mad? Mad enough that he’s quittin’ an’ movin’ away?”

  “He seemed all right at Bingo last night. I didn’t think he acted any different than anytime before—nosey, as usual. Did you, Barb?” Annie asked her friend. Barb shrugged.

  “Sure does seem awful sudden,” Doc added.

  “If they ha’ time to make arrangements with a realtor, it can’t be ah’ that sudden,” DeeDee said.

  Verna leaned forward so she could see around Art. “It wasn’t a realtor sign, just a plain ole’ For Sale sign that you can buy at any hardware or Wal-mart for selling your car or your boat or whatever.”

  The discussion ended when Nelly rapped on the podium and asked for quiet. Then she said, “Before I make my announcements, our park president has a special message.”

  Paul Potter, a tall, distinguished man with a narrow mustache walked on the stage. He was wearing a golf shirt with the BradLee logo of a triple palm tree stitched in green and white on his chest pocket, plaid knee-length shorts, and running shoes. Even wearing casual clothes, he had a certain dignity about him. His audience listened carefully as he spoke into the microphone. “I have an announcement to make. I don’t want to make this announcement, but I must. The Board has tried, but we can’t talk him out of it.” Paul paused for dramatic effect before saying, “Our faithful Director of Bingo, Karl Kreeger, has resigned.”

  Loud murmurs filled the hall. Paul waited a few seconds for the room to quiet before continuing, “He and his wife, Kitty, are moving back to Ohio to be near their family. They have put their house up for sale. As you know, Bingo is an important part of the finances of our park. We do want to make sure we keep it up and playing every Tuesday night. We need someone to take over this task. I know there will be big shoes to fill after the terrific job Karl has done for us for five years, but there is so much talent in our park, the Board is confident we can fill this vacancy soon. If you are interested in taking over Bingo, will you please speak to me or to one of the Board members? Thank you. Now, will you join me in showing Karl our deep appreciation by giving him a standing ovation? Thank-you.”

  The BradLee family stood as one and clapped and clapped and clapped. Barb whispered to Annie, “Remember what I told you—that the Board thinks Karl is skimming money from Bingo?”

  Annie nodded, “Yes.”

  Barb continued, “Think about all the luxuries Karl has been buying lately. Last month it was a new van and this month he bought a brand-new golf cart. It’s blue with gray side curtains and his and Kitty’s names are painted on the front in gray.”

  “It’s a beauty,” Annie agreed. “The rest of us that are lucky enough to have a golf cart have cream-colored ones that are re-conditioned and came from some country club. One key will start any of them.”

  After they sat down again, Nelly took the mike and asked DeeDee to come to the piano on the stage. Nelly called out the names of those having birthdays that week and asked each honoree to stand. DeeDee struck the opening chord, and everyone joined her, singing: “Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, God Bless You, Happy Birthday to you!” She played th
e familiar song a second time, and they sang to those couples having wedding anniversaries

  Nelly had a long list of announcements about the many activities running in their park. It was nearly ten o’clock, and the crowd was getting restless. Nelly had a reputation as a good storyteller; so they stayed to the end to hear Nelly’ closing joke: “This is a true story. This summer I met a woman on my trip to the Gaspe Peninsula. Her husband seemed to be a very nice man, if a little exacting. The woman rolled her eyes and told me, ‘When I married Mr. Right, I didn’t know his first name was Always!’”

  * * *

  As soon as Coffee Hour was over, the crowd began leaving. Von joined Tom-Tom and his ‘Merry Men’ and began straightening the chairs under tables and sweeping out the room. Doc headed for the kitchen, and Brad walked to the Annex for the Board’s workshop. Art and the four women began decorating the hall. Barb, who was a natural organizer, and a very efficient one, immediately took charge. Annie chuckled to herself; she didn’t mind that her friend was taking over her job. DeeDee winked at Annie, letting her know that she knew that Barb was being Barb, probably without realizing she was being pushy.

  Barb said, “Some of you should start by taking down the winter decorations on the stage so we won’t be in the way of Tom-Tom and his crew. The rest of you should sort out these Valentine decorations and decide what goes where. Then when the room is clear, Art, will you please get the ladder from the storage room? You’ll need to get the January decorations down before we can hang the February ones.”

  Verna, who loved anything red, held up a big red heart and exclaimed, “Oh, I do love Valentine’s Day. All this gorgeous red; it’s almost as pretty as Christmas!”

  DeeDee took a snowflake cut-out off the wall. Before packing it away, she waved it, saying, “Darlin’ ya are tha only kind of snow I want ta see an-y-more! My grands can go sleddin’ all they want; I’m stayin’ right here in sunny Flow-ri-dah!” The others cheered.

  While they were working, Verna asked, “Are we playing golf this afternoon?”