Maddie Cochere - Two Sisters and a Journalist 01 - Murder Under Construction

by Maddie Cochere

  Hurray for Aunt Bee. She knew Doug was a jerk. I gave Jackie a slight elbow of approval for Aunt Bee’s words.

  “And this must be Stewart. Buck’s told me all about you. It’s about time Jo got herself a new beau. She’s been cooped up in that house for too long.”

  “We’re not dating, Aunt Bee,” I insisted. “We’re co-workers.”

  “Of course you’re dating,” she said with a wink at Stewie. “You don’t take your clothes off for someone unless you’re dating.”

  I grimaced. My feet wanted to take me home, but my butt was firmly planted in the chair, and it would take too much effort to actually get up and walk home.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Buck carting a watermelon into the garage. I made a mental note to give him grief later for telling Aunt Bee about the mostly naked fiasco with Stewie.

  Not to be ignored, Doug started running his mouth again. “As I was saying, those two investigators were all over Pittsburgh, and they got a big lead on the girl and her pimp. I don’t know the details yet, but I should have the exclusive for Sunday’s paper.”

  Aunt Bee smirked. “Are you talking about Walker and Butler?”

  Doug nodded.

  “They’re up in Schenectady,” she said. “They found out the girl’s name was Sherry Clarke. She’s been turning tricks up there for over a year.”

  Doug looked dumbfounded. “How do you know that?”

  “Lucy at the beauty shop. I was writing a ticket in front of the shop yesterday, and she came out and told me. Walker’s wife was in earlier in the day and told her. Everyone knows there isn’t anything to investigate. They need to find her family and notify them of her death. If they find her pimp, they’ll probably have the murderer, but it will be hard to prove. They won’t put much manpower on this one.”

  Leave it to Aunt Bee. If there was anything in town to know, she really did know it. Her title used to be meter maid, but now she’s known as a traffic enforcement employee. She walks a beat downtown and picks up a lot of information as she writes tickets and calls for towaways.

  I was definitely interested in the name I had just heard. Ruby, Paula, Charlotte, and now Sherry. Which one was it? I wasn’t surprised the Buxley police weren’t going to devote much time to the case, but I had a strong feeling there was much more to this murder than was known. I believed the girl at Pink Elephants when she said Ruby wasn’t a prostitute. If I wanted to dig deeper, was Sherry Clarke the name I should look into? Or Charlotte? My head was starting to hurt. Drinking beer on an empty stomach in the hot sun wasn’t helping.

  Doug was steaming. “This is my exclusive, and those beauty shop busybodies should keep their big mouths shut.” He muttered under his breath, “You can never trust a wife with information. They’re nothing but trouble.”

  The ensuing silence was awkward.

  Doug pointed his finger at me and demanded, “Jo, I want an interview with you. You found the body, and I want to know exactly how you found it and what you did afterward.”

  Stewie frowned. It was a deep frown with deep furrows between his eyebrows. “You found the body?”

  I nodded.

  Matt laughed and said, “She sure did. That makes five bodies in two years. Right, Jo?”

  “Yep. It’s a talent,” I said.

  Stewie added some fidgeting in his seat to his frown. He seemed completely disturbed by the information.

  “I find them, Stewie. I don’t kill them,” I said sarcastically. I was annoyed by his sudden attitude.

  I left the group. I wanted to get out of the sun and away from Stewie. I headed for the garage. Pepper was talking with Buck as he grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. Mama had moved her chair next to Buck’s brother and his wife. She had a six-pack of beer in a cooler beside her. A cigarette dangled from her lips. I cringed when I heard her say, “Cornhole isn’t an appropriate name for a kid’s game. In my day it meant -”

  Buck quickly yelled to shush her. I stepped into the garage and out of hearing range.

  Three tables were loaded down with food. Normally, I loved the food at Pepper’s cookouts, but none of it looked good to me today. My stomach was in knots, and the thought of anything with mayonnaise or grease only upset it more. I scanned the dessert table. Jackie’s six pies were front and center. There were two peach, two apple, and two blueberry. Pepper had added a chocolate cake to the table, three trays of cookies, and a dirt dessert with gummy worms. Aunt Bee’s rum-soaked watermelon was precariously perched at the end of the table.

  My stomach could probably handle something sweet. I cut a piece of Jackie’s apple pie and dumped it onto a paper plate. The first bite sent my taste buds into overdrive. I devoured the slice. There wasn’t another human alive who could make a pie better than Jackie. I cut a piece of the blueberry and was nearly finished when a bite fell off my plastic fork and rolled down my white blouse before falling onto the floor. I looked up from the pie to see Stewie watching me from the doorway of the garage.

  “It had to be the blueberry,” I said looking at the purple color streaked down my blouse.

  “Jo, listen, I didn’t mean to look so shocked about you finding the dead girl. It just surprised me, and then when Matt said you’d found five bodies, well, it seemed so bizarre.”

  “It’s ok. Want some pie?” I cut a slice of the peach.

  “No. I just wanted to apolo-.”

  “Come and get it,” Buck yelled as he came into the garage with a heaping platter of hot dogs and hamburgers.

  Within seconds, the kids were filling plates and the adults were making a line behind them. Pepper sidled up to me.

  “What are you doing? Aren’t you going to eat a burger?”

  “My stomach’s upset. I just want dessert.”

  Pepper looked at the three pies, the stain on my shirt, and the blob of blueberry on the garage floor. She started to giggle as she walked away.

  I knew she was remembering the day I got a whippin’ from Mama for sneaking into the pantry and eating an entire blueberry pie she had baked for Old Man Wilson’s funeral. I was eight years old and I knew better, but I loved blueberries and something wicked talked me into hiding and eating the pie that day. Mama was an expert at wielding a belt, but I didn’t care. I cried something fierce, and Pepper felt sorry for me, but I had an entire pie in my belly and she didn’t.

  Three pieces of pie today weren’t an entire pie. They were just a warm-up. I grabbed another paper plate and loaded it with more pie before making my way out to my chair.

  The sugar rush helped my spirits, and the rest of the day sailed along smoothly. Conversation was enjoyable, Mama settled down, and Stewie opened up and was more charming than I had ever seen him. Jackie especially enjoyed his dry humor and continually laughed at his stories.

  Doug Preston left shortly after eating, as did Buck’s brother and his family. It wasn’t long before everyone was complaining about the heat, so the party and the food moved indoors where charades was the game of choice. The only disturbing moment was when it was Mama’s turn, and she kept sticking her teeth out at Stewie for a clue. She may have known Clark Gable had false teeth, but we sure didn’t.

  At nine thirty, Buck and Matt carried a heavy crate of fireworks between them over to the construction site behind my house. The rest of us sat in the lawn chairs Hank had already set up to face in that direction.

  It was nearly an hour before the first colorful starburst went up into the night sky. A few moments later, Matt was running back to the house. He threw a string of lit firecrackers behind him as he ran. Pepper lit sparklers for Keith, Kelly, and Mama.

  “How do you guys get away with this?” Stewie asked. “Ohio has strict laws against fireworks like these.”

  I laughed. “Buck was nearly caught last year, but Sergeant Rorski couldn’t prove it was him who set them off, so he gave him a warning. After Buck found out it was a first-class misdemeanor with a fine of one thousand dollars and up to six months in jail, he took a class on explosive
s and got a Fireworks Exhibitor’s License.”

  He seemed impressed. “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. Some kids never grow up, and Matt is just as bad as Buck, but only Buck has the license.”

  A pretty burst of red stars covered the sky, and everyone let out a collective, “Oooooh.”

  Mrs. Wyler came out of the house next door to stand on her front lawn and watch. Pepper walked over to say hello and watch the fireworks with her.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stewie shift in his seat. Not much, but a definite slight turn toward me. He wiped his hands on his shorts and ever so slowly started to move his right hand toward my left hand.

  I jumped up. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Mama asked. “I can’t hear anything over these explosions.”

  “A siren. I heard a siren. Sergeant Rorski will be here in record time this year.”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Stewie said.

  “Must have been a false alarm,” I said as I slowly sat down to await another uncomfortable attempt by Stewie to hold my hand. It was a miracle when a few seconds later, a patrol car actually pulled across the bottom of the driveway, and Sergeant Rorski stepped out. I was surprised to see he wasn’t in uniform.

  “Evening, folks,” he said as he came up the drive. “You’ve outdone yourselves this year.”

  Pepper rushed over from Mrs. Wyler’s. “Sergeant Rorski,” she said between booms, “There’s a ton of food in the house. Help yourself.”

  He simply nodded and faced the fireworks display. It wasn’t long before it appeared to be in its finale stage when several fireworks went up at one time.

  A few minutes later Buck was running across the cul-de-sac and grinning from ear to ear. He was greeted with a rousing round of applause.

  Sergeant Rorski stood with hands on hips. “Do you have your paperwork, Buck?”

  He removed a paper from his back pocket and said, “I sure do, Sergeant.”

  After looking over the license, he addressed Jackie. “Come down to the station in the morning. I need you to run a photo of the murdered girl.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I thought your investigators had this all but sewn up.”

  “Those two knuckleheads found Sherry Clarke’s parents all right, but it didn’t go well when they were informed Sherry was murdered - probably by her pimp. Especially since Sherry is a junior in high school and spending the holiday with a girlfriend.”

  I saw Jackie put her hand over her mouth to conceal a smile. “I’ll be there first thing in the morning,” she said.

  He turned to Pepper and asked, “Any pie left?”

  She flashed a smile my way before saying, “Jo ate the last piece of blueberry, but I think there’s apple and peach left.” She led the Sergeant through the garage and into the house.

  Peach pie sounded like a good way to end the night. I left Stewie and his sweaty hands behind and headed for the kitchen.

  Chapter Five

  “Good morning. Buxley Mortgage. May I help you?”

  There was no enthusiasm in my voice. The boss was out for the week, my co-workers were immersed in paperwork, and the insurance office next door was closed. There would be no schmoozing with the guys over there today. I was bored out of my mind, and so far, my eyes had been closed more than they were open.

  “Mr. McCray is out of the office until next week. May I take a message?”

  I hoped there would be no message. It was too much of an effort to write words on paper. I felt like I had a hangover. Not from beer, but from sugar. My lack of energy was startling.

  After filling out the pink While You Were Out form, I dragged myself into the break room for a third cup of coffee. It was only ten thirty, and it was going to be a brutally long day if I couldn’t stop yawning every few minutes.

  A box of donuts was open on the table. I poured a cup of coffee, grabbed the newspaper from the counter, and sat down to consider the sweet treats. I wondered who brought them in. There were never donuts in the break room. Brian McCray was into all things healthy and didn’t believe in eating sugar. According to him, it was “poison to the body.” He would have a conniption if he knew they were here.

  I selected a chocolate glazed beauty and set it on a napkin.

  The first bite was wonderful, and I let out a loud hmmm sound of approval. I devoured the donut and licked chocolate from my fingertips before sipping coffee and opening the folded paper. The front page took me by surprise. The headline read: Do You Know Her? Police Ask for Help in Identifying Murdered Woman. A picture of the very dead Ruby Rosewell appeared under the headline.

  I assumed Doug beat Jackie to the punch, but the by-line was Jackie’s. She must have talked with Sergeant Rorski last night and worked late to get the article in today’s edition.

  The picture was one taken by the photographer at the construction site. It was cropped to show only her face, but because it was black and white, and shot from a slight angle under her chin, the picture didn’t look like Ruby at all. There was no way this was going to help solve her murder.

  “What are you reading?”

  I looked up to see Stewie standing in the doorway. Watching from doorways was apparently his thing. I tossed the paper across the table and said, “Jackie put Ruby’s picture on the front page. Maybe they’ll get some leads, but I doubt it. It doesn’t even look like her.”

  He studied the picture for a few moments. “Nope. I’ve never seen her before.”

  I snickered. “Well, why would you? Do you find yourself in need of a prostitute often?”

  He didn’t appear to find humor in the question.

  “Jo, listen. I think we’ve been on the wrong foot lately. I like you. I’d like to get to know you better. How about giving me another chance? Let me take you out for dinner Saturday. We’ll make it casual and go early. I’ll pick you up around six.”

  Hmmm. Stewie. Dinner on Saturday. I didn’t know what it was about him that turned me off, but I definitely didn’t sense any chemistry between us. On the other hand, maybe I wasn’t being fair. He wasn’t unattractive, and he was likable at times.

  He tried to seal the deal. “I brought the donuts for you today.”

  Mystery solved. After watching me eat so many desserts yesterday, he knew playing to my sweet tooth was a good move on his part. “Brian would fire you if he knew you brought donuts in here.”

  He laughed. “I’m not worried, and you have until next Monday to eat them all.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you. They’re really good.”

  We lapsed into small talk. I finally said, “Dinner on Saturday sounds nice.”

  When I returned to my desk, I was desperate to find something to occupy my time. I organized my middle desk drawer. I made labels for folders. I shopped online for a new bra, but I didn’t buy one. If Pepper and I were going to lose weight, my boobs would get smaller, and I would probably need new bras soon. I switched from bras to books. I surfed free books to download. To date, I had over two thousand books downloaded onto the company computer, but I hadn’t read any of them. I had plenty of time to read at work, but the few times I tried, I had fallen asleep with my hand under my chin. It was pointless to continue to download books, but I enjoyed reading blurbs and looking at covers.

  “Jo, I have to run down to the courthouse. Do you have time to enter an application?”

  Only four employees staffed our small office. Barb, a sweet woman in her late fifties, took applications and pulled credit reports. Stewie handled paperwork from appraisers, insurers, and the title company. Brian, our manager, was the primary contact between approved applicants, agents, and lenders in getting to a smooth closing.

  It was Barb who was asking for help.

  “I’d be happy to,” I told her. “Anything to stay awake.”

  Her smile was sympathetic as she left the office. She knew how much I hated the boredom of the front desk job.

  I opened the template for the application
and began slotting in the information from the handwritten worksheet. This was a young couple buying their first home. They were both twenty-four with steady employment since high school. The husband was a highway maintenance worker making forty-seven thousand dollars a year. The wife was a hairdresser making sixty thousand a year in salary and tips.

  Her wages flabbergasted me. I instantly regretted not finding a way to go to college. Pepper had gone on a partial scholarship, but Mama said I should just get a job and work my way up from the bottom somewhere. I had taken a few continuing education classes at our local branch of Kent State University, but the classes were basic office classes for working with documents and spreadsheets. Fourteen years later, here I was stuck in yet another boring, dead-end job. I had no idea going to beauty school could have enabled me to make so much money while styling hair and designing art on fingernails.

  Thinking of fingernails brought Ruby to mind again. I needed to check salons in the area to see if anyone recognized the pattern on her nails.

  I quickly finished the application and started an online search. There were five hair salons in Buxley. Four more were located near the mall between Buxley and Patterson. I counted seventeen within the Patterson city limits.

  I walked back to Stewie’s office and stuck my head through the doorway. “I’m taking an early lunch. Would you mind answering the telephone until Barb gets back? It’s been quiet, so it probably won’t even ring.”

  He barely looked up from his paperwork while throwing a “sure” in my direction. I raced out of the office before he could change his mind.

  Heat and humidity blasted me when I stepped out onto the sidewalk, but I didn’t mind. It felt good to be out of the office, and the hot sun felt wonderful on my face. Tammy’s Hair, Nails, and Tanning was only three blocks away, and I knew I would enjoy the walk.

  When I pushed the salon door open, I was sweating, my hips hurt, and I was out of breath. I sat in the nearest empty chair and put my head on my knees.

  “Are you ok?”

  I looked up into the concerned face of a woman wearing a yellow smock. I nodded my head, but the feeling of lightheadedness was still with me.