The Morelville Mysteries Collection

by Anne Hagan

  “I do sort of want to poke around the whole Patricia Dunkirk/Terry Ford thing and see if there’s anything to it – anything at all between them – and I need to follow up on the Harper investigation. My guys insisted they wouldn’t call me on my honeymoon and they haven’t so I don’t have a clue what’s going on with that. It would be real nice not to be blindsided by everything on Monday.”

  “There you go then. Let’s go get packed up.”

  Chapter 15 – Manicures and Truth

  Mama Rossi

  Friday Morning, October 16th, 2014

  Morelville

  I had an inkling the girls would be home early so they could go to Terry’s funeral. I figured I better get myself to the market and pick up a few perishables to stock their fridge.

  All prepared to drive into Zanesville, I noticed the ‘open’ sign was on again in the village general store so I stopped there instead. I admit I was more than a little curious.

  Sheila’s employee was standing at the register but Sheila herself was slicing deli meat for a lone customer. I gathered milk and juice and a few other things up from the coolers and carried them to the counter and then waited while the other woman rang the customer out and Sheila washed up.

  The girl behind the registered greeted me cordially and I smiled back but my eyes were on Sheila as she turned from the little sink behind the long counter and inspected her nails. Shaking her head, she looked up to find my eyes on her.

  “I’m so sorry for staring,” I said. “I really didn’t expect to see you here today at all.”

  “We’re going into the weekend so we really needed to be open...what with expenses and all. Besides, the phone has done nothing but ring. I just had to get out of the house and away from it today.” She looked over my purchases as the other woman bagged them.

  “Well, again, my condolences. I don’t know that Melissa and Dana will make it back in time for calling hours tonight but we’re assuming they’ll be in late or early in the morning so I bought a few provisions for them.”

  Sheila half smiled as she gripped the counter edge.

  I reached over and picked up her hand in mine, “Pardon my forwardness, but I saw you inspecting these a minute ago.” I ran a thumb along her nails. “I’m a nail tech and I’d be happy to do these for you before the viewing this evening...if you like.”

  “Would you? Oh, that would be wonderful. I’d pay you of course.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly accept payment at a time like this. I’d do it for anyone.”

  Sheila thought a minute then nodded, “Okay then.”

  “Where and when would you like me to do them? I have everything I need here with me because I always take it everywhere with me but, since Mel and Dana are just moving into their new home, there really isn’t a suitable place there to do it yet.”

  “There isn’t any place we can do it here either.” She looked at her helper who promptly volunteered to man the store if Sheila wanted to head home.

  I agreed to meet her there after I put my purchases away and gathered my kit and she gave me simple directions to get there.

  Ten minutes later, food put away and nail care kit assembled, I arrived at the Ford home and tapped lightly on Sheila’s front door. When she let me in, I immediately apologized for having to have her come back to her own home. “I know you were trying to get away from the phone for a bit, dear.”

  “It’s okay. There was just as much hubbub in the store. At least here I can just let voicemail pick up the calls.” She pointed to a digital set on the corner of the kitchen counter as we took seats in her windowed breakfast nook.

  “I’m surprised you have a landline phone at all.”

  “Oh, you have to way out here. Cell phone service is so spotty no matter what those darn companies say otherwise. We...I get it through the cable company so it’s not too bad. Other people who can’t get cable out to their places pay a fortune to have a home phone.”

  We took seats but she jumped back up, “I’m so sorry. Can I get you some coffee or some tea, maybe?”

  “That’s kind but no thank you. I try not to have anything spill-able nearby while I’m working because I’ll surely spill it.”

  Sheila grinned, “This is kind of you.”

  I smiled back at her and asked her what she’d like done then I began to work, mostly in silence as she just watched what I was doing but, gradually, she began to relax and ask questions. We began to talk about this and that after that, making light conversation.

  She started to tell me something about one of her grandchildren when the sound of the phone ringing interrupted her.

  “Did you want to answer that?”

  “Let me just listen first and see who it is.”

  I nodded and continued about my task. After four or five rings, her machine picked up and a woman’s voice came over the little speaker;

  “Hi Sheila, it’s Pam Walter’s...I, uh just wanted to offer my condolences on your loss. I know it must be hard. I’m going to try to come to the viewing but, well...I don’t know about Dale...you know... Anyway, I’m really sorry...” We could both hear the sound of a door opening and a man’s voice calling out, “Pam!” “Oops,” Pam continued, “Dale’s home for lunch; gotta’ run. Bye!”

  I didn’t say anything to Sheila about her caller but I guessed that I must have just heard the voice of the wife of Dingy Dale who didn’t completely share her husband’s mostly negative view of the deceased Terry Ford.

  As I was cleaning up about a half hour after that call came through and a couple more less interesting ones, Sheila inspected my handiwork and offered to pay me again.

  “Nonsense,” I told her. “You don’t owe me a thing.”

  She shook her head, “These look great. Can I ask, what do you normally charge for what you’ve done for me?”

  “Well, you’ve just gotten the basic manicure, a simple repair and a polish job. Your nails were in pretty good shape. Back in Pittsburgh, where I’m from, I’d have charged you $30 for that. For a full set of nails it would have been more and for appliques more again. The works would have been pretty expensive at $65-75.”

  Sheila didn’t wince. Instead, she said, “Oh honey, that’s what they charge at the only nail salon in Zanesville too for everything! Just a manicure and polish though will cost you $45.00 there. It’s just crazy...looking good is soooo expensive! I’ll tell you this, lots of women around here would love to have another option and, if it’s a slightly less expensive one...” She nudged me gently with an elbow, protecting her still tacky wet polish job.

  “It’s certainly a thought. I contract out of a shop for some things and work on my own for some established clients. I buy all my own supplies either way, but for the shop work, I have to kick back a sitting fee.”

  “Maybe you ought to consider making a change.” Sheila half shrugged.

  “A change would be nice but, on the other hand, I do have a husband and a home back there to get back to.”

  Oddly, I thought, Sheila’s look didn’t grow wistful or darken as I suspected it might after I mentioned my own husband. Instead, she suggested I give some thought to visiting Morelville more often.

  She thanked me as she showed me to a side door just off the nook area where we’d spent our time. I took note of a .22 single shot rifle sitting in the corner by the door like the one my Mario uses all the time for rabbit hunting.

  I tipped my head at the gun, “Does everyone around here keep a gun so handy?”

  “Oh, that’s Terry’s...was Terry’s. He didn’t like having a shotgun near the door like most people out here seem to do. Too dangerous...we’ve had problems with groundhogs. The .22 was good for that.” Her eyes never met mine as she spilled out her little speech.

  ###

  It wasn’t hard for me to find the little funeral parlor where Terry’s viewing was being held. There only seemed to be one in Morelville and there was a line out the door of people waiting to pay their respects, if not Terry s
pecifically, at least to his widow and his family.

  I fell into line behind a gentleman who seemed to be waiting alone. Ahead, I could see Faye and Jesse Crane. I did my best to keep several mourners between myself and Faye’s line of sight.

  A gentleman stepped up to the line and fell in behind me. The man in front of me greeted him quietly and they began to converse with each other around me. The first man politely insisted I take his place and he stepped back to stand next to the second man while they waited.

  Ahead of me, almost to the Cranes, most people were alone and seemed to have come directly from work, judging by their attire. It was a somber line with little chatter going on. I’d resigned myself to a fruitless wait when the hushed conversation behind me grew far more interesting than it had been.

  The gentleman who arrived after me asked the first fellow, “Has Art Majors been through already or do you know if he’s coming?”

  “No idea,” the first man there replied. “I do know they hadn’t been speaking at all before Terry died; it’s such a shame.”

  “They always were like oil and water, those two,” man two said.

  “This time it’s silly though. They were squabbling over some fancy Abu Garcia fishing reel, of all things, and Art claims it was the last straw. Said he didn’t want anything more to do with Terry. Stupid...”

  Man two spoke again, “I agree but I think there’s more to it than just that.”

  “I hear he actually told Chuck he isn’t sorry the man is dead. Can you believe he actually said that about someone who’s passed on? Terry Ford was no saint, I admit, but dishonoring the dead because you’re bitter about not getting something for a steal is just so uncharitable.” His voice had risen a little but he quieted down when his friend repeated, “Bud, I think there’s more to it.”

  “How so? Do you know something I don’t?”

  Did you hear about the camper...well, I guess we should call it an RV, deal?”

  “RV Deal?”

  The second man must have nodded because the first, after a beat, said, “No.”

  “Art’s grandson has a buy here/pay here used car lot just outside of Zanesville. He let some guy trade a high end, decked out RV for an F-250 that someone else with more money than sense traded there. The kid couldn’t move the RV because no one visiting his lot could afford what it was worth. Art tried to help him out; gave him a loan to get it fully inspected, get it detailed and to advertise it around outside the local area. He sunk a few grand in which he would have gotten back with a little interest when it sold. The advertising was all paid for and running and along comes Terry...says he wants it.”

  “Let me guess, he wanted a deal?”

  “Right,” guy two says. “He gets the kid to sell it to him for a grand above what the truck trade was worth just to, he says, ‘get it out of his hair.’ Thing is, it was worth at least twenty grand more than that truck. The kid makes next to nothing and Art’s out a few grand. Art was livid and he let Terry have it but the kid made the deal. Terry didn’t force him to take it.”

  “So where’s the RV now?”

  “Terry turned around and sold it for, I hear, ten grand more than he paid and didn’t give Art a dime of it.”

  Chapter 16 – Home Sweet Home?

  Mel

  Friday Evening, October 16th, 2014

  Morelville

  We’d gotten packed up and checked out of our cabin by 11:00. There was no refund for the missed night. I didn’t figure there would be. It would have been nice to stay on and enjoy a final afternoon and evening of rest and relaxation, especially since it was paid for, but I knew my duty was back at home.

  Once we were on the road, we meandered back to Ohio, taking our time. Neither of us was actually ready to call an end to the honeymoon just yet. When we finally drove into the village, it was nearly 10:00 PM. Chloe’s car was in the driveway next to my truck but the house appeared dark and quiet.

  I unloaded our bags while Dana stretched out her legs, both...not just the injured one. She moved toward the door before I was finished. Coming up the side porch steps behind her, I watched her insert her key into the lock but then pause and listen intently.

  She turned to me, “Do you hear that?”

  “Sounds like a dog somewhere in there...”

  “Not a dog...dogs. I know mama has Little Lady here but...” Dana pushed the door open and flipped on the overhead light then stopped dead in her tracks.

  Our kitchen, formerly devoid of curtains, decorations and in need of a good scrubbing, was now decorated in fall colors and gleamed in every respect. A new microwave stood on the counter by the coffee maker Chloe had bought us as a wedding gift. No dogs or evidence of their existence was anywhere in sight though.

  I cocked an ear and listened. I could hear one dog mewling from somewhere upstairs but only one. Must have been our imaginations before...

  Dana wandered through the downstairs as I finished bringing our bags in. Returning to me, she shook her head, “It’s a completely different house...completely.”

  I looked around myself. Our bedroom, already set up before we left, was untouched but, other than that, Chloe had cleaned and decorated the place like a mad woman. The kitchen still needed a dining table and the living room was devoid of most lounging furniture but a very nice entertainment center and a set of bookcases stood at the ready and partially full. There was even a little art on the freshly scrubbed walls.

  “Your mom’s amazing, babe!”

  “You like it?”

  “Yeah...yeah, I do. I’m not real crazy about the whole chicken motif in the kitchen but it still looks nice. What do you think?”

  “I like it too. Here’s the thing though...this probably isn’t all.”

  I tipped my head and looked at my wife, “What do you mean?”

  There’s no sofa in here yet and the cot’s gone. She’s not sleeping in our room so she must have set up the guest room upstairs too.”

  “I’ll bet you’re right. Would she be asleep yet? Do you think she’d mind if we went and had a look?”

  “With her dog yapping like that, she’s probably awake and up there dying to know what we’re thinking. I’m surprised she hasn’t come down already. We should just go to bed and let her stew.”

  “That’s just mean Dana, after all her hard work. Besides, I’m dying to see upstairs.”

  We mounted the steps and started up. By the time we hit the landing, it was very obvious there were two dogs behind a closed door in one of the upstairs rooms. One was whining and the other yapping. As we reached the second floor, the guestroom door swung inward revealing Dana’s pajama clad mother with two balls of energy circling her feet.

  A black and white terrier pup jolted past me and hurled itself at Dana. She bent and caught it on the fly. “Aren’t you the cutest thing?” she asked the pup as she held its face close to her own. Looking at the pup and then at her mother, she asked, “Mama, where did she come from?”

  “You like her?” Chloe asked.

  “She’s adorable. Does dad know you got another dog?”

  “Um...not exactly.”

  “Mama!”

  “It’s not mine Dana, baby.”

  “Whose is it Mama?” Dana’s tone was suspicious.

  “I picked her out for you.”

  “For me?” Dana asked while, at the same time I asked, “For her?” as I pointed at Dana.

  We were still standing in the middle of the hallway. Dana put the pup down and it started circling between her and me.”

  “You two said you wanted a dog. She’s a cutie and she’ll be so good for you Dana. She’s got plenty of energy but she won’t pull you along on walks, and...”

  “But a Boston Terrier?” I was in shock. “Chloe, I really appreciate what you were trying to do, but...”

  “But what? You don’t like little Boo, do you?”

  “Boo?” we both asked, in unison.

  “That’s what I’ve been calling her. I got her ju
st yesterday but she already seems to be adjusting to it...oops, looks like she might need to go outside. I better run her out.” Chloe scooped up the dog and was down the steps with Little Lady trailing them leaving us both standing there slack jawed at her sudden exit, mid confrontation.

  When the kitchen door banged, I turned to face Dana and asked, “So, you like the dog?”

  “She is cute, babe. I take it you don’t like her?”

  “It’s not that. It’s just that I wanted, you know, a real dog.”

  “Pardon?”

  “A real dog...a hunting dog or a working dog. Something bigger and not...prissy.”

  “Oh. Okay then...”

  Dana’s look was crestfallen. She’s fallen for the dog already. Now what do I do? I thought fast, “Maybe we get two dogs?”

  “That would be okay with you?” She looked at me hopefully.

  I nodded and pulled her in for a quick kiss. Loosening my grip on her slim shoulders, I said, “We should probably head downstairs and meet her properly.” I stepped back toward the stairs but Dana’s touch stopped me.

  “Let’s look in there first,” she pointed into the guest room where the glow of a bedside lamp was very apparent in a room that had neither a bedside table, a lamp or even a bed just a few days earlier.

  We squeezed through the doorway together and were stopped short by the beauty of a carved, burled wood bed and matching dressing pieces. The carved lamp on the nightstand immediately caught my eye and drew me closer. Dana, meanwhile stood, fingers to her chin, and marveled at the bed.

  “Mel, if this was a king size, I’d have you moving it downstairs this instant. It’s gorgeous.”

  “Agreed.”

  She stared at me, “What are you doing?”

  “This lamp is going across the hall, in the office.” I had it unplugged and I was about to lift it off the stand.

  “Seriously babe? It goes great in here. Just ask her where she got it and we’ll get you a matching one.”