Beware the Orchids (A Shady Acres Mystery Book 1)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “The temporary handyman will be here in the morning. You’ll need to hobble around and show him the ropes,” I said with a grin.

  “That’s cruel, Shelby.” Mom gave me ‘the look’. “I taught you better than that.”

  “He almost fell on me, Mom.”

  “I did not.” Heath finished off the taco and reached for a taquito. “If not for Alice, I would have remained safely in the tree, and unless you were sitting in the tomatoes, you were in no danger of being landed on.”

  “This week is going to be a blast.” Cheryl cut into a Chimichanga. “Mealtimes alone are more entertaining than the teacher’s lounge during a cat fight.”

  A commotion behind me had us all turning in our seats. Bob and Harold, the Belcher, were toe-to-toe, faces red, yelling at each other. Alice’s vain attempts to separate them did no good.

  “I’ll handle this.” Cheryl rose to her full height, adopted her teacher’s look, and approached the two men. Grabbing each by an ear, she pulled them apart as I rushed up. “What is this meaning of two grown men acting like children in public?” Cheryl looked from one to the other.

  “He accused me of riffling through his cottage.” Harold crossed his arms. “I am not a sneak or a thief.”

  “Well, somebody was in there that shouldn’t have been.”

  Bob’s face was so red, I almost feared for his health.

  “You live right next door to me. Maybelle isn’t here, so you’re the next logical choice.”

  “Mr. Satchett,” I motioned for Cheryl to release them. “Isn’t it possible housecleaning moved something? Is anything missing?”

  “Not missing, just moved.”

  “Then, there you go.” I gave a reassuring smile, the same kind I would have given quarrelling eight year olds.

  “Just watch yourself, Harold.” Bob leaned in. “We all know what happens to those who stick their nose in other people’s business. It’s bound to get chopped off!” He stormed from the dining room, leaving the place in stunned silence.

  A few seconds later the place roared with conversation. Harold glanced around, then headed outside.

  “That was fun.” Cheryl grinned and returned to her meal.

  “Amazing the way you handled them.” Heath gave an appreciative grin. “I’m glad you weren’t my teacher.”

  I squelched down a bit of jealousy. I could have stopped their argument, maybe, somehow. I focused on my food and let the others continue the conversation without me.

  I really didn’t know why I was acting like a petulant child. Jealousy wasn’t a trait that visited often. Still, the way my new friends and family fawned over Cheryl grated a bit. All through childhood we’d been teased about our differences in appearance. That was what brought us together as friends. So why the sour grapes?

  Because I wanted to prove I could excel at something. I’d failed getting married to Donald, hadn’t enjoyed teaching as much as I’d thought I would, and still couldn’t be independent with Grandma following me everywhere. Succeeding at my job here at Shady Acres and, possibly, forming a close friendship with Heath, would be a big step toward re-establishing my self-esteem.

  I had to solve Maybelle’s murder. I just had to. If I did, I’d have proven myself in a big way and cleared Heath’s name in the process.

  8

  The next morning, I waited just inside the glass doors leading to the lobby for our substitute handyman to arrive. I’d promised Heath I’d bring the man to the dining room. So far, he was fifteen minutes late. That act did not instill a lot of confidence.

  A forest-green pickup truck roared into the driveway. A man in coveralls and a white tee shirt climbed out. He sauntered toward the building, wiping his bald head with a red, white, and blue bandana. He yanked open the door, his steps faltering when he saw me.

  “Miss Hart? Got a flat. Sorry.” He held out a blackened hand.

  “Dave Mason?” I shook his dirty hand, then wiped it on my jeans. “Follow me and I’ll introduce you to the man whose job you’ll do for the next week or so.”

  “Wonderful, but I got to tell you I can’t do any heavy lifting.”

  I stopped. “Excuse me? That’s what I requested. I need someone to do the heavy work.” Alice was going to have a conniption fit.

  “Bad back. I can do lawn work just fine.”

  “But, that’s my job.”

  He raked his gaze over me. “I reckon you aren’t much good at heavy work. Too small.”

  I supposed I could get Cheryl to help me…wait a minute! I needed to assert myself. “Mr. Mason. If you cannot do the work I hired you to do, then I’ll have to insist you leave.”

  “Don’t be hasty, little lady. I’ll do the work.”

  “Wonderful.” I marched toward the dining room and left the man under Heath’s supervision.

  Cheryl and Grandma were still having breakfast. I told them I’d be in the greenhouse working and to come fetch me when, and if, they found something for us to investigate. I think Grandma took that as a personal challenge since she bolted from her seat and began questioning the other residents. I shook my head and headed to work.

  Not only did I have some weeding to do in the herb garden, and watering of the plants in the greenhouse, I needed to somehow put plastic over the hole in the roof until a repairman came out. I wasn’t sure what was taking Alice so long. I thought for sure she would have called straightaway. Then, once that was finished, I needed to make sure everything was in order for the social that evening. Perhaps a record player with songs from the time the residents were young. I could make an announcement for everyone to come dressed when they felt their finest.

  I pulled out my cell phone, ran the idea past Alice, who loved it, and asked her to make the announcement then call the repairman. Seconds later, the announcement came over the loud speaker. One job complete.

  I stepped into the greenhouse. Birdie dug in the dirt under the counter where Maybelle had lain. “Birdie?”

  “You’re taking too long, Missy. I thought I’d do some digging of my own.”

  “What do you expect to find?”

  She crawled out. “I have no idea.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Life goes on as if she never existed.”

  I put my arms around her. “Maybelle is missed, honey.”

  “No, she isn’t. She was a difficult, nosy, prickly woman, but she was my friend.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I want to see justice done.”

  So did I. “Want to help me put plastic on the roof? You can hold the ladder. It might help take your mind off things.”

  “I don’t see what good I am, but I suppose I can hold a ladder.”

  I retrieved the ladder from against the building and stood it up. “Don’t let me fall.”

  “No guarantees.”

  With my heart in my throat, I climbed the ladder. I probably should have asked the new guy, but he’d be plenty busy doing all the things Heath wasn’t able to get to. The ladder shook under me. I glanced down to see Birdie leaning against it eating a cookie. “Birdie!”

  “Oh, sorry. I missed breakfast.” She put both hands back on the ladder.

  “Hand me an edge of that plastic roll and the duct tape. Slowly, please, and one at a time.”

  She handed me the tape and I set it on the top step of the twenty-four foot ladder. Then, slowly but surely, I began taping the plastic over the hole.

  “Shelby Marie Hart!”

  I turned, missing the rung. As the ladder fell, I jumped to the nearest shelf and smashed a fern. “Grandma! Are you trying to kill me?”

  “What are you doing on that ladder?”

  “Fixing the roof. Temporarily, of course.” I jumped to the ground and tried to prop up the leaves of the mangled plant I’d landed on. Maybe I’d have Mr. Mason finish the roof job.

  “Have Cheryl get up there. She won’t have to go as high.” Grandma crossed her thin arms and glared. “You can’t get killed. We need you to help solve this murder.”

  “That’s wha
t I’ve been telling her,” Birdie said, wiping the cookie crumbs from her hands.

  “Did you learn anything from Officer Lawrence last night?”

  Grandma motioned her head toward Birdie. “Oh, I learned a lot, but nothing I can talk about in polite company.”

  “Gross.” I shuddered.

  “I’m leaving!” Birdie threw up her hands and stalked away.

  “While the two of you talk, I’ll finish this poor attempt at roof repair.” Cheryl climbed up the ladder.

  “Did you learn anything about the case or not?” I gave up on the poor fern. It would either revive or become compost in the next day or two.

  “That man is as tight-lipped as a clam, but I did do some snooping when he went to the bathroom.”

  That could get her arrested and thrown behind bars. “You can’t be doing that. What if he would have caught you?”

  She shrugged. “I would have charmed my way free. Do you want to know what I found out or not?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Maybelle has a rap sheet.” Grandma pretended to study her manicure, but stared up at me from lowered lashes.

  “Stop playing around and tell me.” I stomped my foot.

  “Petty theft, that kind of thing. A couple of parking tickets.” She leaned against the counter. “Mr. Lawrence had a file on his coffee table.”

  “He left it in the open?”

  “Not really. I had to move several books and magazines to find it. Here’s the thing.” She held up her hand. “If Maybelle wasn’t such a nice girl, it’s very possible she was involved in something she shouldn’t have been and was killed for it. We need to search her things. Have they cleared out her cottage yet?”

  I shook my head. “That’s scheduled for tomorrow, I think.”

  Cheryl jumped from the ladder. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

  I locked the greenhouse and led them to Maybelle’s former home. The door was locked. I stepped back, looking for an open window.

  “Let me.” Grandma shouldered me out of the way and pulled a lock picking kit from her purse. “I came prepared.”

  I did not want to know how she came about this particular skill. Seconds later, we were in the messiest home I’d ever stepped foot into. Clothes and dirty dishes covered every available surface. Books and magazines were strewn on the floor. “Someone has already ransacked the place.”

  “I think this is how she lived,” Cheryl said. “I pity the girls in housekeeping.”

  “Start digging. There has to be something buried in here.” Grandma headed for the kitchen.

  “I’ll take the master bedroom,” I said, hoping I didn’t uncover something dead.

  The bedroom was worse than the front room. I shoved a pile of clothing aside with my foot and moved to the dresser. A wooden box, the type men kept their doo dads in, set on top. Using my fingernail, I lifted the lid. Inside were watches and cufflinks. Had she stolen the entire thing or collected the men’s items over a period of time? Question two…why hadn’t the police taken the box? I shrugged. Maybe no one had reported anything missing at Shady Acres. She could have brought the box with her.

  I opened the top drawer, caught sight of plain white underwear, and slammed the drawer closed. On second thought, I opened it again. Women who wanted to hide something often stuck it in their underwear drawer.

  Bingo! I pulled out a Manilla envelope. Inside were several photographs. At first glance, they seemed to be of Shady Acre residents. I set the envelope aside and moved to the next drawer. Nothing interesting in the next two so I checked under the mattress then went to the closet.

  Heavens to Betsy, how did anyone put another item of clothing in the jammed space? I glanced at the top shelf. Several boxes, tossed in haphazardly, seemed ready to fall. The first box I pulled down contained a Glock nine millimeter with a cute pink handle. Why hadn’t the police taken it? I closed the box and left the gun alone. Maybe since it didn’t pertain to Maybelle’s death, they left it with her personal items. The other boxes contained years and years of receipts. No help there.

  Next, I glanced under the bed. Way too crammed to find anything, then headed to the master bathroom. I stared at the cluttered countertop, then opened the medicine cabinet. Assorted prescriptions for pain and anxiety filled the inside. Poor Maybelle seemed to suffer from more than kleptomania. Wait. Those weren’t her name on the bottles. I read Birdie’s name, Harry Weasley’s on one of the anxiety meds, even Bob Satchett’s name was there.

  “Find anything?” Cheryl walked up behind me.

  “She might very well have been a drug addict, stealing prescriptions from the other residents to feed her habit.” I closed the cabinet. “Does no one lock their doors around here?”

  “Maybe she got a hold of a master key.”

  “Good point. I’ll ask Alice if one was ever noticed missing.” I grabbed the envelope from the bed and headed to the front room. “Grandma? Find anything?”

  She waved a sheet of paper. “She kept a schedule of the residents.”

  “That would make sense, since she was stealing from them.” I dumped the contents of the envelope on the table after knocking several books to the floor. “She was also photographing everyone.”

  “Our little Maybelle was not only a kook, but a thief.”

  “Maybe the absent-mindedness was a ploy so people wouldn’t take too long of a look at her. It would be the perfect disguise.”

  Grandma tapped a photo of Alice with her nail. “These don’t seem to be about the residents going about their lives. They seem to be more like spying. Alice is unlocking the door to a cottage that isn’t hers. Weasley is watching Bob and Myrna Smith. Here’s one of Heath entering Alice’s office. Was she stealing, gathering information, or both?”

  “That’s what we need to find out.” I stuffed the photos back in the envelope, added the schedule, and slid them into Grandma’s purse.

  “Holy cow.” Heath peered into the cottage. “I think Alice needs to hire a crew to clean this out. It’s too much for Amber and Becky. What are y’all doing in here?”

  “Snoo—just checking on some things,” Grandma said, spotting Dave. “Getting a grasp of the work that needs to be done. Have fun.” She grabbed my arm, and leaving Cheryl to follow, pushed our way out of the cottage. “That was close. Who is that man in overalls? I almost spilled the beans to a stranger.”

  “The substitute handyman.” I glanced over our shoulder. Heath and Dave looked our way. “We could have been caught by more than just them. What if Alice would have seen us?”

  “I would have thought of something.”

  “I’d like to know what you were doing in the victim’s cottage.” Officer Lawrence stepped from behind a tree. “Care to share any information?”

  Grandma fiddled with a button on his shirt. “We would if we’d found out anything. Didn’t the police search her place?”

  “A bit. But since it isn’t a crime scene—” He removed Grandma’s hand. “Ladies, I’ll tell you this one time only. Do not interfere in my investigation.” He turned and marched toward Maybelle’s cottage.

  9

  Dressed in a vintage flapper dress, I stood next to Cheryl, who wore a formal gown from modern day because of her size, and Grandma in a red flapper dress to compliment my black one. Grandma and I made petite bookends to Cheryl, but the three of us stood in the doorway and surveyed the crowd of residents in every type of clothing imaginable. We had pimp suits, tuxedos, formal gowns, a fifties prom dress…you name it, we had it. Heath wore something Gatesby might have worn and looked quite dashing, even with the crutches.

  “Remember…we are here to mingle and question the people in those photos,” I told my companions. “We’ll congregate in my cottage after the social.”

  “We can have a bit of fun.” Grandma pulled one of those long cigarette holders they used to use back in the day.

  “You can’t smoke in here.” I wasn’t aware she smoked.

  “I’m no
t going to light it, silly. It’s for allure.” With her head high, Grandma sashayed into the crowd.

  I shrugged and headed for the table where Heath and Dave, still in his coveralls, sat. “How did the first day go?”

  “Just great.” Dave stuffed half a cupcake in his mouth.

  Heath rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. “We have some, uh, heavier items that need to be moved. Do you think your Amazon friend can help out?”

  “I’ll ask her, but she isn’t here to work. She’s on vacation.” I knew that substitute wasn’t going to work out. I should have given him the boot that morning. “Dave, we had this discussion. Either you do the work or—”

  Yelling from the corner drew my attention. Birdie and Bob hurled insults at each other until Birdie clasped a hand to her chest and sagged into a chair.

  I rushed to her side. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

  “She’s faking it,” Bob said with a scowl. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that biddie.”

  Birdie’s eyes flashed, confirming his words. “I had a twinge, Bob. You can’t say I didn’t. Not with any certainty. If you don’t stop accusing me of taking your watch I might have a heart attack for real.”

  “You were seen snooping around my cottage.”

  “No one in their right mind would go near that pig sty.” She pushed to her feet, every pink curl on her head quivering with indignation.

  I couldn’t help but wonder whether Bob’s watch was one of those in Maybelle’s box. I made a mental note to let Office Lawrence know. “Why don’t the two of you head to opposite sides of the room and take a break?”

  Bob seemed taken aback. “Why? We came here together.”

  “Yeah, Shelby.” Birdie slipped her arm in his. “We’re on a date.”

  For Pete’s sake. I shook my head and took my own advice.

  Harold Ball belched loud enough to deter me from my original destination and sent me to the opposite corner of the room where Mr. Weasley was stuffing finger sandwiches into every available pocket. From a few feet over, Alice waved her hand wildly in a gesture telling me to make him stop. I nodded.