The Traveling Corpse

by Double Edge Press

  “At least you’ve got the full attention of the Sheriff’s Department, Annie. They believe you now. Let’s let them take it from here. I’m ready to go home and get warm. In fact, I want Florida to warm up; I’m tired of winter.”

  “You’re spoiled,” Annie retorted impishly. “We only get three or four cold days a year down here. In fact, it’s supposed to be in the 70s tomorrow; it will be lovely again.”

  “Good-night,” Joe Juarez said to the seniors, expecting them to leave.

  “We can’t go yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “We can’t go until the Bradkowski’s and Vigeaux’s come back.” Annie explained, “We either wait here or some of us go and look for them.”

  “They could be in trouble. Seems like they should have come back here by now,” Doc said.

  “Speak of the devil!” DeeDee yelled, “I think I see them. Ya, they are comin’, fer sure. They must see our lights and know it’s okay to use theirs.”

  A collective sigh of relief went up from the friends and officers.

  “We’ve been worried about you,” Doc said as the B and Vs drove up.

  Art added, “Where have you been so long?”

  “Annie’s hunch paid off,” Barb said. “Brad knew what side street outside of BradLee to take to get to this field.”

  “I found the gate,” Brad added, “and we waited there, off to one side, kindda out of sight in behind some shrubbery. We got to see the shuttle go off. Then we waited and waited.”

  Verna jumped in, “We didn’t know how long we should stay there. We were about to give up and come back here when Von saw Karl in his golf cart coming towards the gate.”

  “Yes,” Von said, taking up the story. “A golf cart was coming fast. A big man, I thought it was Karl, but I couldn’t be sure at first, was driving it. Anyway, he sure was in a hurry. He yanked open that gate and drove through. At first, I didn’t think he was going to stop to shut it. That wouldda been bad with those big birds in there, to leave the gate open.”

  “Fortunately, he did back up, get out, and latch the gate,” Barb said. “He really slammed it shut.”

  Brad said, “There was a night light on a pole by the gate; so we got a good look. It was Karl all right. He had on jeans, a BradLee golf windbreaker over a turtleneck sweater and a stocking cap on his head. It was his golf cart—the new one, blue with gray rain curtains.”

  “He took off as fast as he could go,” Verna finished.

  Doc asked, “Did you see the body?”

  “No,” Barb answered. “There wasn’t anything—not on the passenger seat and not strapped on the back.”

  “Oh, no!” cried Annie. “It’s disappeared again. Is this Number Seven?”

  The others groaned.

  Brad said, “The reason we are so late getting back here is an interesting story.”

  “Y’all know how curious I am,” DeeDee chimed in. “Keep on with tha story. Don’t make us wait.”

  “We followed Karl. We were pretty sure he’d drive straight to his house; so we could hang way back. He never saw us.”

  “No, he never turned around to look behind him,” Barb added. “I suppose he never suspected that he was being followed. We didn’t turn our headlights on. His cart is newer and goes a little faster than ours. We couldn’t have kept up if we’d wanted too.”

  Brad picked up, “I wanted to see what he did when he got home; so I took a short cut through a couple of back yards—Von and Verna were right behind us—and got to his cul-de-sac before he pulled in his driveway. We watched him park in the grass. He turned on his hose full force and sprayed his cart—gave it a good going over. Then he drove it under his carport. He kicked his shoes off before unlocking his side door and went inside. We noticed that he didn’t turn on any lights. Guess he was trying to sneak in—not wake up Kitty.”

  Juarez shook his head in amazement. “Congratulations. You guys are amazing. You do see the problem you’ve solved, don’t you?”

  Von said, “I guess you mean that we now know who was digging that grave.”

  “Wait!” DeeDee interjected. “There’s lots for y’all ta catch up on. Ya won’t believe what happened after ya left: Jiggs was killed.”

  “Jiggs was killed?” the Bs and Vs shrieked simultaneously.

  Art looked at his wife, “You tell them, Honey; it’s your story.”

  So Annie recounted the horror of seeing Jiggs digging the grave and of his being kicked to death with only one powerful kick from the ostrich. Then she rubbed her left temple.

  “Something has bothered me the whole time we watched the digging going on. I knew something was peculiar, but I couldn’t figure it out until you told us that Karl was in that field—that Jiggs wasn’t alone. You saw Karl leave that field in his golf cart. Do you know what I think? I think Karl helped dig that grave—that the two men took turns with the shovel. It wasn’t Jiggs doing all the work. I kept thinking something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t put my finger on the problem. Now I know what it was. They look a lot alike in dim light and from a distance. They’re about the same height. And they were both dressed alike. Don’t you think it odd for them to both be dressed the same?”

  “I don’t know if it’s so odd,” Doc said. “I’ve been wearing my blue jeans for three days now during this cold spell.”

  “Everybody wears blue jeans,” Art agreed, “but with all the bushy hair Karl has, I wouldn’t expect him to wear a knitted cap—a toboggan—tonight. It’s not so cold as it’s been, and you get hot shoveling dirt. That’s hard work even in sandy soil.”

  DeeDee cut in, “From how Brad described Karl’s clothes, they sound like they had planned to dress the same. Doesn’t it? Do ya suppose Karl wanted ta look like Jiggs?”

  Annie continued, “But they didn’t move exactly alike. One kindda rolled when he walked. The other one had more of a spring in his step, now that I think about it.”

  “You’re right! They did move differently,” DeeDee exclaimed. “Good detective work, Annie.”

  Sgt. Menendez took notes as she listened to the seniors. And she asked questions. The night wind began to pick up. A few large drops of rain fell. She looked up at the sky and grimaced. “Wish that rain would hold off until morning. I’d like to get in there to look around before rain comes and washes any evidence away. But I don’t think my wish will be granted. It is going to rain for sure.”

  “Before you leave,” Menendez said to them, “this will break as a big news story; Ostrich Attacks and Kills Man. Reporters will want to dig up all they can about it. I’m sure they’d like to interview all of you.”

  Annie gasped, “Do they have to know my name or any of our names?”

  “I can restrict certain information if you want me to while we continue our investigation, and of course we won’t be sharing that aspect of the story with the reporters. Not yet, anyways.”

  “Please do,” Art said. I don’t want Karl to know any more than he already does. I’d feel a whole lot safer for Annie and Barb if none of our names are mentioned.” He turned to the others, “Is that okay with you? Maybe when it’s all over, but not now.”

  DeeDee, who was always quick to defend her friends, said, “I hope I speak fer all of us. We need ta protect ya. We don’t want any nosy reporters ta come prying ‘round any of us. Right, gang?”

  “I’ll do my best,” the officer said, “but Mrs. Andersen, your name is on record, so you may get calls from the news media. ‘No comment’ works, but it doesn’t satisfy them,” the sergeant advised.

  Annie sighed as she shook hands with Menendez and Juarez and thanked them again for coming to their aid.

  The four couples were glad to give the problem of guarding the area to the deputies. They felt sorry to leave them in the rain, but this was the Sheriff’s concern now, not theirs, they told themselves as they drove back to their manufactured homes in their now peaceful retirement community.

  * * *

  It had been a long evening; but
it was only a little after 11 o’clock as Annie was getting ready for bed. For all that had happened, it seemed like it should be long after midnight. Annie thought about what an exciting evening this had turned out to be—more excitement than she cared for. In fact, the past three days had been stimulating. She was exhausted and was glad it was over. But as she pulled her long sleeved nightgown over her white hair, she stopped to think. There was a nagging at the back of her mind; something was bothering her.

  Art was already asleep on his side of the bed. He could drop off to sleep the minute his head hit the pillow. She envied him for that. She wanted to talk, but she didn’t know exactly what it was she wanted to talk about—except she knew it had to do with ‘Our Mystery’. She thought that if she talked about it maybe then she could put her finger on what it was that was bothering her so much—what it was that just wasn’t quite right. Art had been such a good sport about going with her on the stake-out; she guessed she wouldn’t torment him anymore tonight with an aimless rehashing of all the events.

  Usually, she read herself to sleep. The light from her bedside lamp didn’t bother Art. He just turned over, shut his eyes, and went to sleep. She opened her book. She was re-reading Gone with the Wind, but Scarlett’s war-time troubles were too much for her tonight. She was too tired to read about the siege of Atlanta. She was besieged by her own worries. It was late, and she needed to put those worries aside and try to turn off her brain and go to sleep. After all, the Sheriff’s Department had taken over the case, even complimented them. They shouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. Like Scarlett O’Hara, ‘She’d think about that tomorrow’. Annie pulled up the covers, snuggled against her husband, and said her prayers.

  Chapter 4

  Friday Morning, 8 A.M.

  Art was ready to leave for the Men’s Golf League well before eight o’clock. It had been a short night for them. With his usual good humor, he made the best of it by quoting his own father, “Sometimes you have to sleep fast.”

  After breakfast, Annie poured coffee into a plastic travel mug, added a little one percent milk, and snapped on the lid. She carried it to Art, who was out in their metal shed unplugging the electric golf cart from its charger. As he climbed behind the wheel, Annie handed him the mug of hot coffee. He asked her, “Sure you don’t want to check out Blue Number Five this morning?”

  She shook her head, “No. I saw enough of it last night.”

  He waved to her as he drove away, and she pulled down the overhead door on the shed.

  When she went back inside, she climbed on a high stool in her comfy blue and white kitchen and spread the Tampa Tribune open on the counter. There was nothing on the front page about last night’s fatal accident. That had happened too late to make this edition, but the story was on the radio and television.

  Zephyrhill’s radio announcer began, “A man was kicked and killed by an ostrich last night on the BradLee golf course!”

  A Tampa TV station carried a similar story. However, Annie had been very surprised to hear the new man, Matt Lauer, who was reading the news on NBC’s TODAY SHOW, report the unusual story. He promised a follow-up on it when more details were available, while the weatherman quipped about the whirlwind terror of an ostrich, comparing the attack with bad weather out West. His remarks were clever, but Annie was concerned about the commotion this would make in their peaceful community; all this attention might interfere with their solving ‘Our Mystery’. She bent her head and prayed, “Good morning, Lord. It’s Annie down here. ‘Our Mystery’ is getting national attention. Please don’t let that interfere with our work of helping find the missing body. Somebody has to keep up with that traveling corpse, and You, Lord, seem to be pushing me and my friends to persevere like in the Bible verse you gave Barb, James 1: 2-3. In Jesus name, Amen for now.”

  Annie scanned through the paper and then turned to the word puzzles. Crossword puzzles were fun, but her favorites were the cryptograms, a code game in which a letter substitutes for the correct one. Her doctor told her to keep working the puzzles, that the mental stimulation was a healthy challenge for seniors. To herself she thought, I really don’t need any more stimulation; I’ve got plenty challenges now with ‘Our Mystery’.

  A little before nine o’clock, she hiked up the long skirt of her navy blue corduroy jumper and got on her bicycle. She loved riding it through the park. When she was nine-years old, her parents gave her a blue Schwinn bicycle with balloon tires and coaster brakes, her very favorite childhood gift. During the years she was raising her family up North, she seldom rode. Several times she had tried riding one of her children’s bikes, but she never felt comfortable with a hand brake, gears, and ten speeds. However, after moving to Florida where the land is flat, she decided to try it again as lots of seniors were riding bicycles. She asked Art, “Please find me a plain, old-fashioned blue bicycle with balloon tires and coaster brakes just like I had when I was a kid.” He did, and she was delighted. She was pleased that she could still ride a two-wheeler; those big three-wheeled tricycles that many seniors rode steered differently from a two-wheeler. She’d tried riding one and quickly rejected it. As long as she could keep her balance, she’d ride a regular two-wheeler. She asked her husband, “Art, when I don’t feel safe—when my balance isn’t as good—would you put training wheels on my bike?”

  “Training wheels?” he’d asked in surprise.

  “Yes, training wheels. I’ve been thinking about it. They work for little kids; why wouldn’t they work for seniors?”

  “When you need them, let me know, and I’ll rig some up for your bike,” Art promised.

  * * *

  Before leaving the golf course for home after their stake-out last night, Verna had said, “Girls, the fellows will be on the golf course in the morning; so, if you can get up early aftah being up late, why don’t you come ovah to my house for coffee? Let’s try to make sense of what happened last night.” She turned to DeeDee, “Do you think you’ll be feeling up to it?”

  “I’ll be there if I possibly can. I don’t wantta miss it.”

  Now, as Annie pedaled to Verna’s under the gnarled old oaks, she looked at those majestic trees and thought they were like some of her older friends—bodies and hands twisted and bent, but still strong enough to face each day and bend with the winds of change. What a different world it is today than when I grew up, she thought to herself. Her mother used to let her run and play—be gone away from home for several hours unsupervised. Today her grandkids were under adult supervision almost constantly. It wasn’t safe for them not to be, she knew, but she felt sorry for them to be so restricted. Times do change, she thought, and so does my body. She looked at the two big calcium deposits that rose under the skin of her knuckles. They didn’t hurt and didn’t restrict the movement of her joints, but they were ugly. She was thankful that they didn’t pain her, but she was still vain enough not to like having her hands distorted.

  Then her mind replayed the horror of last night, of seeing that ostrich kick Jiggs to death right in front of her! She pedaled faster, eager now to get to Verna’s and go over last night’s horrible and surprising events again with her friends. Hopefully, they could put a finger on the problem of what was still bothering her. She rode into Verna’s carport. Barb pulled in behind her. DeeDee was parking her golf cart on the grass. Annie asked, “How’s the sciatica this morning?”

  “Oh, it’s so much better. That shot and adjustment has given me real relief. Praise tha Lord an’ a big thank-you ta my darlin’ Dr. Gardner Blackstone!”

  They went inside Verna’s cheerful mobile home where the Vigeauxs spent the winter months. When May came, they packed up and left for the three day drive to northern Maine. They still kept their big house up there, the one in which they had raised their six children. They also enjoyed their camp on an inlet from the ocean. “We need to get rid of one of them,” Verna often said of the two homes in Maine, “but we can’t agree on which one. Von loves to fish and dig for clams so he likes
our camp, but my choice is being in town with family and the friends I’ve had for ovah fifty years. I grew up in that town. So, we compromise and keep both of them!” She said with a laugh.

  Bright red valences, which Verna had made, hung above the windows. Those in the kitchen had a pattern with strawberries and ivy. She was a lovely homemaker; she could sew anything and was a fantastic cook. When DeeDee first met Verna, she asked her if she had been a Home Ec teacher. Verna laughed, “No, but thank you for the compliment. I wanted to go to college, but I didn’t get to go. My folks thought it a waste of money for girls to go on for higher education. Maybe that’s why I enjoy going to Book Club now; I always learn something new. Anyway, Von and I were childhood sweethearts. We married when I was eighteen, and had six children, so I had lots of practice cooking for eight every day and sewing for our four girls.”

  The inviting aroma of fresh coffee brewing welcomed the friends. Verna had her electric coffeepot perking away cheerily. She had found it at a yard sale shortly after coming to BradLee and it was one of her prized possessions, for she was proud of the coffee she served. When complimented, she’d say, “You can keep your fast ‘Senor Coffee’ machines; give me my trusty, old electric percolatah anytime. I’ve got three of them—this one, one at our home up North and one at our camp.”

  She had laid out four cloth placemats with a tiny strawberry pattern printed on them. Her table was set with small plates edged in red, and her coffee mugs were decorated with strawberries. A, B, and D joined Verna at her round table. In the center was a plate piled high with warm doughnuts. “Von was a dear; he got up early and slipped out to the store to get these for us before going to the golf course,” she said, pointing to the fresh doughnuts. “I didn’t feel like baking a coffee cake this morning.”