Chapter 9
Wednesday, Early Morning
The telephone rang early. Art roused himself to answer it, knowing it was either one of their kids calling or the media wanting an interview. He’d turned away all the calls wanting interviews by telling them, “Mrs. Andersen is in no condition to speak to a reporter at this time. Thank you for calling.”
As he hung up the phone, Annie opened one eye and asked. “Who was that?”
Instead of answering her question, Art said with relief, “Well, good morning. Nice to know you are alive. I was afraid you died in your sleep!”
“Of course, I’m alive. Who was on the phone?”
“One of those morning tv talk shows. Did you want to talk to them?”
“Do I have to?”
“Not unless you want to.”
“Not now. Not ready to face that yet. I’ll be like Scarlet O’Hara and ‘think about that tomorrow.’” She got up to go to the bathroom.
“Are you going to stay up, or are you going back to bed?” Art asked.
“What day is it?”
“What’s that got to do with your getting up or not?”
“I don’t know. How long did I sleep?”
“Almost sixteen hours.”
“Sixteen hours?”
“Do you remember what happened to you?” Art asked.
Annie stopped in the bathroom door, turned back to her husband, and paused while the horror of being kidnapped enveloped her. “So that’s why my arm is so sore. Oh, Art, it was awful. I’m used to being in control of my life, and, and, … Oh, I was so helpless.” She sat down on the toilet lid and began to sob.
Art knelt in front of her, trying to comfort her, “Go ahead and cry, darling. It’ll be good for you to let it out of your system.”
When her tears finally subsided, she asked Art, “Do I have to go back to bed?”
“Not if you don’t want to. Why do you ask?”
“Oh! I guess I was so brow-beaten. I… I…”
“It’s okay, Annie. It’s all over. You’re safe. Now, what do you want to do?”
“Then I’d like to get up and get dressed. I’ve slept long enough. Will you help me with my bra? I don’t think I can reach behind me to hook it; my arm is too sore.”
“Honey,” Art said, “I am so happy to have you home safe and sound that I’ll gladly help you dress. I’ll even feed you, if you want me to!”
For the first time since she came home, Annie’s violet eyes danced as she laughed, “That might be fun. I will need help cutting my meat for a few days.” Then she asked what day it was. When Art told her it was Wednesday, she said, “Is it too late to go to Coffee?”
“Sure you want to? Want to face all those people? They’ll ask you all kinds of questions. Are you ready for it?”
“I’ve got to face BradLee sometime. Today feels like a good day.”
He looked at the clock and answered, “I’ll call the B’s and tell them we’re coming—ask them to save us two seats. I think we can get there by nine o’clock. Come on, let’s hurry and dress. This time I’ll carry our coffee mugs.”
* * *
Nelly was standing on the stage behind the podium ready to ask the BradLee members to stand for the morning prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance when she saw Art and Annie open the double doors of Old Main. She immediately changed her plans and called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, before the blessing for our food, we have another blessing. Please turn to the entrance. We need to greet Art and Annie Andersen.” She motioned to them, “Please come to the stage. We all want to tell you how thankful we are that you are safe, Annie. And we want to thank you for solving a mystery that most of us didn’t even know was happening. What do you call it? The Mystery of The Traveling Corpse?
The audience stood and clapped and clapped as the Andersens made their way to the stage. With her good arm, Annie reached for the microphone and took it from the Activities Chairperson. “Thank you, Nelly, but Art and I certainly did not solve that mystery by ourselves. There were four couples of us that all contributed pieces of the puzzle. Will the Bradkowski’s, Davis’s, and Vigeaux’s all join Art and me?”
The clapping and whistling continued until the eight seniors were lined up on the stage. Nelly asked them to remain there through the blessing and the Pledge of Allegiance.
When they finally filed off the stage, Barb whispered to Annie, “We saved you seats.” She began walking to the back of the room.
Annie stopped, “Oh, no! Are you sitting at the table by the closet—the table that’s right in front of the Bingo closet? Where I …”
“I’m afraid so. That’s where we always sit, isn’t it?’
Annie hung back until her friend said, “Don’t worry; you don’t have to look at it. Look,” she pointed to Brad, who was pulling out a chair. “You can sit with your back to the closet. Then you can just look out and see all the warm and wonderful friends you have here in BradLee Park. They’re all happy for you because you are safe, and they are all so glad that you got us to help you solve ‘Our Mystery’—now officially known as: The Traveling Corpse!”
About the Author
Betsy Jones Hayba was first recognized as a writer as an undergraduate at The College of Wooster in Ohio. Her original play The Lost Forty-Niner was chosen in 1949 as the winning pageant and was performed as an out-door drama to honor the crowning of the May Queen. She graduated that spring with Honors.
Her second time in print was a disaster. In 1985, on the 60th anniversary of the famous Scopes Evolution Trial, she interviewed a man who was one of the children who testified in the trial. She sold it to a Memphis newspaper for a Sunday magazine. However, somehow the editor’s notes were printed instead of her polished article.
Her third and fourth attempts were much more successful. She began writing her own stories and has published two children’s bedtime stories, winning contests with Half-Priced Books in 1995 and 1996 in their program to benefit literacy projects.
She met her husband, Frank P. Hayba, at a Sunday School class for young adults at Lakewood Presbyterian Church in a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio. He was a mechanical engineer and she an English teacher. They have been married for 62 years and have three grown children and nine living grandchildren—half of them are adopted,one from as far away as Ethiopia—and all are loved.
As an empty-nester, she earned a Master of Arts degree from the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, and also an A.B. in Art from Cleveland [Tennessee] State Community College. At Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio, as an adjunct instructor, she taught graduate level courses in Storytelling, an art form that is very special to her. She has studied piano and voice and is an accomplished soprano soloist. She laughs and says, “I have to sing; I’m all Welsh!”
She and Frank founded TERRIFYING TALES & TALES & TALES in Dayton, Ohio. They produced and directed that annual storytelling event for nine years until her husband retired, and they moved to Florida. Betsy became involved with Little Theatre. She began writing and directing one-act plays for Betmar, their retirement park in Zephyrhills, Florida.
After moving to Independent Living at Freedom Pointe in The Villages in 2011, she attended the Florida Writer’s Conference in Orlando, and made contact with a representative of Double Edge Press, a Christian publishing company. Owner Rebecca Melvin offered Betsy a contract for THE TRAVELING CORPSE, a murder mystery romp through a retirement park with four senior citizen couples.
Betsy says, “Advice frequently given to writers: Write about what you know. I don’t have any first-hand experience with murder, but I do know a lot about being old!”
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The Traveling Corpse Page 25
