by Marja McGraw
My son seemed to perk up. “I understand.” He tapped me on the shoulder. “Chocolate, right?”
Did my son know me or what?
“I wonder if John Murphy will call us tonight.” Chris had obviously drifted away from our conversation.
“Who’s John Murphy?” Mikey asked.
“His aunt used to own the old house,” I replied.
“We’re going to see if we can talk to her,” Chris added.
“Cool! Your first real clue.” Mikey listened to everything we said, and we needed to remember that.
“Little pitchers have big ears,” I said quietly, hoping Chris would change the subject.
“Yep, our first real clue.”
So much for changing the subject. “Dummy up, would ya?”
“Oh,” Chris said, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”
The phone never rang that night, even though I kept willing it to make some noise. There was always tomorrow. Who knew what it might hold?
Chapter Fifteen
After a discussion about our son’s behavior, Chris left to take Mikey to school. The dogs had been fed and the breakfast dishes were done when the phone finally rang.
“Hello?” I couldn’t wait to find out if Mildred would meet with Chris and me or not. I hoped John Murphy had good news.
“Pamela, this is Sharon Stone. Why didn’t you tell me about Mitzy and Bitzy? You’re holding out on me. In fact, you lied to me.”
My hackles were up in a flash, and I didn’t correct the names to Midge and Pidge. “Who do you think you are? I don’t owe you any kind of an explanation. My business is none of your business. How did you find out about them anyway?”
“Davey told me, so don’t you deny it.”
“Exactly what did Davey tell you?” I didn’t want to slip and say something if she didn’t really know much.
“He told me that they came to see you yesterday. He said that Chris told him about them and that they want anything of their uncle’s that you might find at that house. Have you found something? Are you holding out on me?”
“No. Is that all you want?” I asked.
“Is there more?” Sharon sounded suspicious.
“Of course not,” I lied. “We told them we’d keep our eyes open while we work on the restaurant.”
“Are you sure that’s all?”
“I’m sure. Didn’t I say we’d share information with you?” I couldn’t remember if we’d actually said that or not.
“Well, okay, but keep me in the loop like you promised. Don’t forget, Pamela, I’ll be writing a story about your restaurant, and you surely want it to be a stellar one. I’ll do what I said and write good things as long as you hold up your end of the bargain.”
“Of course we will.” Not liking her threat, I changed the subject before I said something that would cause her to write a horror story about the food or entertainment. I didn’t want her to belabor the dead body either. “So, how are you and Big D getting along? It sounds like you’ve been seeing a lot of him.”
“Oh, we’ve been out every night since I met him. He’s such a sweetheart. And he’s so handsome. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not just having a great dream. You know how it is because of Chris and all.”
As with Mikey, Sharon was easy to distract – thankfully. We talked for a few more minutes before I managed to get off the phone. I was thinking of Sharon and shaking my head when the phone rang again.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Cross? This is John Murphy.”
“Good morning, John. I was hoping you’d call. Have you had a chance to talk to your aunt?” I figured I might as well jump right in.
“Yes, I drove over and saw her yesterday evening. Is your husband there? I thought maybe I could talk to you both at the same time.”
“He took our son to school. He should be back soon. If you want to tell me what you found out, I’d be happy to pass along the information.”
I heard Chris pull into the driveway.
“Oh, wait. I hear him coming now. While we’re waiting, did she seem receptive to talking to us?”
I heard the front door open and close, and turned, motioning Chris to join me. He raised his eyebrows in question.
“Actually, she seemed quite lucid yesterday, and she liked the idea of having visitors, no matter what the reason. She’s really a good old gal.” John sounded a little surprised about his aunt’s attitude.
“Chris is here now. Let me put the phone on the speaker again.” I mouthed the name John so Chris would know who was on the phone.
I pushed the speaker button, and Chris said, “I’m here. I’m hoping you have good news for us.”
“Actually, I do. I was just telling your wife that Aunt Mildred seemed rather taken with the idea of having guests. I didn’t tell her about the body though, only that you want to talk to her about when she ran the boarding house. I explained that you’re converting the house into a restaurant and she was quite interested.”
I smiled. “She may be even more interested when she finds out that our restaurant has a 1940s theme. We’ll have a band playing music from that era along with dancing, in addition to great food.” Always wear a smiley face when talking to a potential customer. It never hurts to keep a bright light shining on the business.
John was quiet for a moment. “I know. In addition to visiting with my aunt, I checked you out. I found out that your other restaurant burned down and I wondered if the new one would have the same theme. I guess it will from what you’ve told me.”
“Absolutely,” Chris said. “It seems like people are so nostalgic these days, and our other place was quite popular – even with the younger generation.” Chris was proud of the fact that we drew a young crowd along with an older group.
“I told my aunt about your endeavor and she said that she’d like to visit for dinner one night after you open. I was quite surprised. That’s the first time in a long time that I’ve heard her express a desire to go anywhere.”
“I’m sure we can live up to her expectations,” I said. “Do you have any idea about when we can visit with her?”
“Would this afternoon be too soon?” John asked. “She seemed anxious to meet you and share her stories.”
“The sooner, the better,” Chris said. “I’d like to start checking into the boarders as quickly as possible. Considering when your aunt ran the boarding house, we may not be able to locate everyone. Some may have already died, and others have probably moved out of the area. At any rate, they’d all be up in years by now.”
“Yes, you may be right.” John sounded thoughtful. “I was young at the time, but I do recall visiting Aunt Mildred and meeting a couple of the gentlemen. At least two of them were old at the time, so you can probably write them off. There were only a couple of women who lived there, and they didn’t stay long. It was mostly men. Aunt Mildred said that men seemed the easiest to get along with, not that there was anything wrong with the women.”
“How long did your aunt run the boarding house?” I asked. I wondered how many names we’d be dealing with once she gave us a list, or if she could even remember everyone.
“She opened the house up to boarders around 1940, and then sold the place around 1950 or 1951. So it was maybe ten years. By the way, there’s something I didn’t mention yesterday that might help. Aunt Mildred has a memory box.”
“A memory box?” I wondered how that might help us.
“Yes. She calls it a memory box, but it’s actually a few cartons of items. She kept exceptionally detailed records while running the boarding house, and she believes she’s kept the ledgers. She might even have a few photographs of various tenants. Some of them had no one and they became almost like a family while they lived in her house.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. “Oh, my gosh! You have no idea how much that would help us in our investigation.”
“So you really are investigating the murder?” John asked.
“It’s unoffic
ial, but yes,” Chris said. “We are looking into Charles Blakely’s death at the request of his relatives.”
“Well, if my aunt’s state of mind is as sharp today as it was yesterday, she may have a wealth of information for you.”
“Did she ask why we were interested in the boarding house?” Chris asked.
“No. She seemed to assume it was simple curiosity because of opening the restaurant in her old home.”
We talked for a moment longer before John gave us the address of the retirement village where Mildred lived. It wasn’t too far from the restaurant location. He said he’d see us there at three o’clock because he wanted to meet us in person, and he thought his aunt would take more kindly to us if he was there.
We hung up and I called Constance, asking her if she could pick up Mikey from school. She agreed and said she would take him home with her until we were done. Things were working out nicely.
“Chris, I’ll say a prayer and you cross your fingers that Mildred is in good shape today. I’m hoping she’ll share some revelations with us.” I was the praying one in our family, and Chris trusted everything to luck, although he didn’t seem to mind if I sent up a prayer on his behalf from time to time. Mikey and I went to church on Sundays, and Chris kept saying that one day he’d join us. I hoped he would.
We took care of our normal daily chores around the house and played with Sherlock and Watson before driving over to the new restaurant to see how Big D was doing. I watched for Sharon’s car, not wanting to run into her, and told Chris about my conversation with her while we traveled.
Her car wasn’t there, but neither was Big D’s truck. We stopped anyway to see if he was making much headway. We’d been there about thirty seconds when he pulled up behind our car, honking his horn.
“Hey, Big D,” Chris said. “How’re you doing?”
Davey started unloading material from the back of his truck. “I’m doin’ good. I had to go buy some material for the job. The guys are at lunch, but they should be back any minute. I’d like you to come around to the back so I can show you something. I have a surprise for you, Pamela.”
Davey had a crew that had been with him for a long time. He was one of the lucky ones. Most contractors had employees come and go on a regular basis. This crew worked hard for Big D and he reciprocated by treating them well. They knew they had it made with him and stuck around, making Driscoll Construction one of the more reliable companies in the area. Most of the crew was at another location working on a new house, but a couple had come over to our place to work.
We followed our gentle giant around the side of the house and on back to the rear of the place. I wondered what his surprise could possibly be.
“This is for you, Pammy.” He flung his arm out like a model showing off a new car, looking proud. He’d fenced off a portion of the backyard with decorative wrought iron panels, right behind where my office would be located.
“I hate to sound stupid, but what’s this for? I mean, I like it, but what’s it for?” I asked, mentally scratching my head.
“Your dogs,” he replied, sounding like maybe I really was dumb. “You can still bring them to work with you when you want to and they’ll have a place to go. You won’t have to worry about the health inspector or them being stuck in a burning building.”
I surprised myself by tearing up. “Oh, Big D,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.” Actually, I had to grab his shirt and pull him down so I could hug him. He’s so doggoned tall.
“Seeing those tears makes it worth it,” he said. “I know how nuts you are about your pooches. And, look. I can put in a basketball hoop and a picnic table if you want them. Mikey can play out here, too. Maybe you could put a cot or something in your office and on weekends he could be here instead of with a babysitter.”
Chris grabbed Davey’s hand and shook it. “You’re okay,” he said. That was about as close to a compliment as these two ever paid each other.
I reached up and patted Big D’s back. “Yeah, you’re okay, pal.”
He looked a little embarrassed. “So what are you two up to today?”
“Not much,” I said, giving Chris a warning look. I didn’t want Sharon to know where we were going. “Just thought we’d drive by and see how much progress you’ve made.”
Big D took us on a tour of the restaurant. Things were moving along fairly quickly, and we could see changes already. I was impressed.
“I’ll be taking out those bookcases tomorrow so we can enlarge your archway. This job isn’t going to take too long. You’ve picked out your kitchen appliances, haven’t you?” Big D asked. “I gave Chris the measurements to work with so you could pick out what you need.”
“We’ve ordered everything,” Chris replied. “I was able to find a store that would work within our budget.”
“Something else you’re going to want to think about,” Big D said. “Your business sign. I’ll take care of it for you, but you need to come up with a design, and let me know what kind of sign you want.”
I grinned at Chris. “I’m thinking maybe a great big wooden sign that we can stick in the front yard like an old For Rent sign.”
“I like that idea,” Chris said. “I like it a lot. We’ll have a spotlight shining on it. We’ll have to think about a logo though.”
I glanced at my watch. “We’d better get moving, Chris. We’ve got places to go and things to do.”
“Okay, cupcake. We’ve done enough eyeballin’ for one day. Big D seems to have things well in hand. Everything is jake around here.”
Davey sighed. “You bet it’s good. Driscoll Construction does excellent work, as you well know.”
“Okay, okay. I know you do.” Chris held his hands up as though giving up and giving in. His friend had reminded him not to take the work for granted.
The crew had returned from lunch so we stopped and spoke to them for a moment, and finally made our getaway. Mildred’s retirement village was only about half an hour from the restaurant, if traffic was good. If it wasn’t, we’d be late.
I couldn’t wait to grill the old lady, to put it in Chris’s words. In my own words, I couldn’t wait to meet Mildred and talk to her about the good ol’ days. And hopefully come up with something helpful in the process – like the name of a potential killer.
Chapter Sixteen
Traffic was light and we arrived a few minutes early. The buildings were made up of very small apartments. John had told us that they were all one bedroom with a bathroom, a small living room and very tiny kitchen. There was a recreation room where everyone got together for dinner in the evening, or played bingo or cards when they felt like it. If they didn’t feel like joining the group, then someone would deliver their evening meal to their room. A few of the tenants still cooked their own dinner, but not many. It sounded like a good arrangement to me. It was a step away from an assisted living facility and allowed the tenants to retain their privacy and remain independent, to a point.
We looked for Building 4, and finding it, we parked in front. Apartment 2, Mildred’s home, was located to the right, with apartments 3 and 4 in the rear. It was a square made up of four units.
I knocked on the door, wondering what to expect, thinking I’d find a little old lady with permed white hair and glasses perched on the end of her nose. I had an elderly friend named Dolly who fit that description. Maybe I was thinking of seniors in generic terms. I figured I’d find a woman whose eyes were filled with confusion. I was prepared to explain who we were and why were there.
The door opened wide and we were greeted by a tall, slender woman of indeterminate age, maybe in her late seventies. Her hair was dyed a dark blonde and done up in a ponytail with tendrils on her neck and at the sides of her face. She was wearing tight capri-length white pants with a long-sleeved, loose flowered blouse, and dangly gold earrings hung from her long earlobes. She wore make-up, flawlessly applied, except maybe she had on a bit too mu
ch blush. And she was barefooted.
“Close your mouth, Pamela,” Chris whispered.
I did.
“Mildred Murphy?” I asked. I figured we must have the wrong apartment.
“Yes, dear. You must be the people my nephew told me about.” She stepped back and swung her arm toward the living room, inviting us in. “Please, come in. John will be a few minutes late.”
John had made her sound like a frail old woman, but that wasn’t what I was seeing. She didn’t sound the least bit senile, although she did have the voice of an aging woman. Maybe we’d caught her on a good day. I looked closer as I walked past her. Her face wasn’t too awfully wrinkled, but her neck and hands gave her away. She was older than my first impression had led me to believe.
“I’m Pamela Cross,” I said, “and this is my husband, Chris.”
“My, but you do look familiar,” Mildred said, openly staring at Chris.
“I have one of those faces.” He gave her his Bogey grin.
“Ah, yes. I can see it. You look like Humphrey Bogart, one of my favorite actors. I’ll bet you hear that a lot.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do. May I call you Mildred?”
“No, sir, you may not. You may call me Chance. I’ve always hated the name Mildred. It’s so old-fashioned, and not at all a becoming name. When people call me Mildred, it makes me feel like I belong on a farm. Or selling clothes to old women at a dress shop.”
“Well, Chance,” I said, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. I do think Chance suits you better than Mildred.”
“Oh, my dear, we’re going to get along just famously. I can tell that already.” She never took her eyes off Chris while she spoke to me.
It was true. The name Mildred didn’t fit her appearance. Chance was the perfect name for her with what appeared to be a flamboyant personality and her demeanor.
She turned to Chris. “I simply can’t take my eyes off of you, uh, Chris was it? You are the spitting image of someone I’ve admired for many years.”
