Calamity @ the Carwash (Parson's Cove Mysteries)

by Rose, Sharon

  As I descended the stairs, I yelled, “All right, every cat in this house must assemble at the back door. You have thirty minutes to do your business and explore the back yard before I leave for work.”

  I’m sure they understand because all seven of them race for the door. I open it and they scatter in seven different directions. Out of them all, Phyl is the only one that will return on time. Usually, I let the others run wild all morning. So far, I’ve had only about a dozen complaints, which isn’t bad, considering. They seem to have an inner clock system though and as soon as I open the back door at noon, they all gather there, rush in, and head straight for the food dishes. After that, they sleep until I return home from work. And, they talk about a dog’s life - dogs have nothing on those cats of mine.

  I was actually busy all morning. Flori came in for coffee and this time, I’m happy to announce, she remembered her cinnamon buns.

  “I’m sorry that they’re not fresh, Mabel.” She apologized for the umpteenth time. To Flori, if they’re out of the oven for more than two hours, they are bordering on stale.

  “They’re wonderful. I think I like them better the next day. The brown sugar maple syrup has more time to soak through the dough.” I explained as the syrup rolled down my chin. Flori makes the best cinnamon buns in the world. And, that’s no exaggeration.

  It was after eleven and the store was empty now. Beth Smee, Reg’s wife, was in shortly after nine. I really like Beth and she reads more books than anyone else in Parson’s Cove so I didn’t want to put her on the spot. She did supply, voluntarily and unknowingly, some information on her own. Apparently, Reg was very hesitant about arresting Melanie but felt that with the evidence that he had, he had no choice.

  “Really?” I said. “I knew Reg would never arrest anyone without sufficient evidence. What do you think, Beth? Do you think it was sufficient?”

  Whether she thought I was trying to pry information or not, she never let on. She just said, “I have no idea, Mabel. You know I never get involved in his cases.” With that, she started shuffling through a box of books.

  However, before she went out the door, she said, “I think Reg said that the whole case is resting on the testimony of one person. Or, something like that.”

  Before she got outside, I ran to the door. “A witness? Who’s the witness, Beth?”

  She shrugged. “As I told you, Mabel, I never get involved. Most of the time, I’m not even listening to him.” She smiled. “I know Reg appreciates all the help you give him but I think he said that this time he and the boys could solve it on their own.” She patted my arm. “That I do remember hearing him saying.” Another smile and she was gone.

  I turned to Flori. “Flori, did you hear that? They have a witness.”

  “Mabel, all I heard was Beth saying that Reg and the boys could solve it on their own. Didn’t you hear that part?”

  “Of course, I did. Reg always says that. Weren’t you listening? There’s a witness. Do you think someone actually saw Melanie hitting Bernie over the head with a brick?”

  Flori blushed and looked down at her empty coffee cup.

  “You know something about it, don’t you?” Flori is so easy to read. “What have you been keeping from me, my best friend?”

  Her face turned a brighter shade of pink. “I’m really not keeping anything from you, Mabel. It’s only what Jake heard at the café and I know you don’t trust anything that Jake says.”

  “Okay, but I might trust what someone else told him. So, what did her hear? Who’s this witness?”

  “Oh, Mabel, you know I hate gossiping, especially about murder. And, how do we know it’s even true? What if I tell you something and it’s completely false, but you won’t know that so you’ll go running to this person and they’ll get into trouble and then, you’ll come back to me and I’ll be in trouble. It will end up being a big mess.”

  “First of all, Flori, you love gossip. Besides, we don’t know if the information is wrong. And, maybe, just maybe, I won’t go to the person at all. Why are you jumping to conclusions like that?”

  “First of all, Mabel, even if the information is wrong, you will go to the person. I haven’t been your friend for sixty years and not know that. Even if you knew that not a word of it was true, you’d go.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? Now, who was the witness and what did this witness, witness?”

  Flori sighed. “Jake said they were talking about it at the café. Apparently, Prunella Flowers says she saw Bernie and Melanie having a big argument outside their car at the carwash and when they saw her watching them from across the street, they disappeared to the back of the carwash.”

  “You mean behind the carwash? By the lake?”

  Flori gave me a resigning look and sighed. “Well, you know what’s behind the carwash – it’s the lake.”

  “Prunella? The witness? I’m amazed she even came forward. Can we really trust her, Flori?”

  “Can we trust her? We, as in you and me, do not have to worry about it at all. I’m sure if she saw Bernie and Melanie arguing, she saw what she saw. End of story, Mabel.”

  “But that doesn’t prove that Melanie killed Bernie, does it? It just proves that they were arguing and were together behind the carwash.”

  “I have no idea. This is entirely up to the police. They know more about it than we do and I’m sure they have lots more information and clues.”

  “Actually, Flori, I wasn’t asking for an answer. That was sort of a rhetorical question.”

  Flori stood up and took her cup and the empty cinnamon bun pan into the back room to rinse out. It was almost noon now and time for me to start for home too.

  We went out the front door together but before I headed in the opposite direction, she grabbed my arm and said, “Please don’t get involved, Mabel. Don’t go to visit Prunella. Just once let’s have a murder without the name Mabel and Flori being attached to it.”

  I laughed. “You, my friend, are getting carried away, as usual. If I have a few spare minutes after I feed the cats, I’ll be going over to the nursing home to visit Dottie. She has some more socks for me. I promise you, I will not be spending my lunch hour with Prunella.”

  It’s hard to describe the look of relief on Flori’s face. It almost made me feel guilty that I planned to visit Prunella in the evening.

  There was no way I could eat any lunch after gorging myself on three of Flori’s buns but I did have to let the cats back in the house. Sure enough, they were all standing on the step, waiting for me. I let them in, filled their food dishes and water dishes and then I left for the nursing home with a bag of books for Dottie.

  There’s a large sign on the lawn that says Parson’s Cove Restful Retirement Retreat. I guess someone wanted it to sound like a luxury resort of some sort but the name doesn’t fool anyone. No one forced to live there, feels like they’re in Cancun, Mexico. It was actually quite an attractive building when it was built over forty years ago but I guess with all the cutbacks and layoffs, there isn’t enough money to keep it beautiful. Dottie says she counts her blessings because she has a place to sleep at night. Dottie is one of those people who succeed in seeing good in everything - sort of a very small wrinkled version of Flori.

  Noon was a good time to visit with Dottie because everyone was finished eating by then. They have breakfast at seven, lunch at eleven and their dinner at four-thirty. Then, she told me, if you’re still hungry, you could go into the small residents’ kitchen and make yourself a sandwich before bed. It all sounded quite nice to me but she just screwed up her face when I said that. I guess it all depends on if you like stale bread with peanut butter before you go to sleep.

  When I arrived she was already outside sitting in a wooden lawn chair, soaking in some sun. At least with the cooler temperature, a person could sit outside without burning to a crisp. There was a breeze and the scent of lilacs and the buzz of some very large bees filled the air. The lawn chairs at the Parson’s Cove Reti
rement Retreat are wooden, heavy and huge. I’m not sure if that’s so they won’t blow away or because they don’t want any of the residents throwing them at the staff. Dottie looked like a small dot in that chair.

  Her face lit up when she saw me. “Mabel, you came for your socks.” Then she spotted the bag in my hand. “And you brought some books for me.” She stood up and clapped her hands. People who find out they’ve won the lottery couldn’t look any happier than Dottie does when she sees a bag of books.

  By this time, everyone who was sitting outside was staring at us. Some were smiling and waving; others, scowling and drooling. Mr. Dudley was yelling my name.

  “Let’s get to your room before old Dudley attacks me, Dottie,” I said. She grinned and I held her arm as we walked to the front door. Sam Dudley had it in his head that visiting Dottie was my excuse to see him. This obsession started a few weeks back but seemed to be getting more intense. I really didn’t want to complain to the management but if he got any more aggressive, I was thinking that I might have to.

  It was cool, semi-dark and pleasant in Dottie’s cubbyhole of a room. There was only enough space for a few personal items. What she did have, she had to guard with her life because a few of her inmates were kleptomaniacs.

  “So, what’s new, Dottie?” I asked after she’d pulled my newly knitted socks from under her mattress. They were shaped like a squash and were a mixture of orange, purple, green, and black. I would never hurt her feelings but I doubted that anyone would steal any of the socks or slippers that she made. I sat down on her only chair and she sat on the bed facing me.

  “There’s never anything much new here. We’re supposed to make our monthly trip to the city tomorrow. Now, I hear they want us to go every week. I can’t figure out why. The management is always complaining about not having any money for trips or anything. Doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about it. Do you like going, Dottie?”

  She shrugged. “Not so much anymore. It used to be fun when they’d let us loose in the Mall but now, they drive to some park, make us get out and sit and then we have to wait for the bus to come and pick us up again. If I want to sit outside and look at the trees, I can do that here.”

  “You’re kidding, every week? Is Bill Williams still driving you?”

  She shook her head. “Not anymore. Now, Calvin Koots drives us. I don’t know who drives his taxi when he’s with us. Have you seen anyone driving it, Mabel?”

  “You know, I do remember someone driving it. He went past the store one morning and I wondered what he was doing in Calvin’s taxi. You know who it was, Dottie?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t read your mind, Mabel.”

  “Sorry but now it makes me feel a little weird. It was Bernie.”

  Dottie’s eyes popped open wide. “Bernie? I heard he was dead, Mabel. Murdered. Is that really true?”

  “I’m afraid so. Reg locked up Melanie and charged her with his murder. Well, I imagine they’ll call it manslaughter. They say she hit him on the head with a brick and then pushed him into the lake.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe that for one minute, do you, Mabel?”

  “Well, I do believe the brick and the lake but that’s about all. I don’t think Melanie would do it either but apparently Prunella saw them arguing just before Bernie was killed.”

  “Since when does that prove murder? My old man and I used to fight all the time. Good thing he died of natural causes or I might’ve been charged.”

  “Well, it sounds like Melanie would inherit a large sum of money from an insurance policy that Bernie took out just before he died.”

  “That’s all circumstantial. I’ve read enough books to know that.”

  I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Well, I’d better get moving. Have to open the shop in ten minutes.”

  Dottie turned the plastic bag upside down and dumped the books on the bed. “Let me know how the murder investigation goes,” she said, but before I could say anything except goodbye, she was already beginning to read.

  Flori stopped in about three. The cooler temperature did wonders for her hair and personality. She was fairly bubbling when she walked in. Her hair was bright, shiny and back to its slick new style. She’d applied fresh makeup. Her lips were a soft coral and her artificially arched eyebrows, a dark auburn.

  “Hmmm, Flori,” I said. “You’re looking as good as you smell this afternoon. Is that a new outfit?”

  She was wearing a light turquoise and coral flowered dress that came down almost to her ankles. It had an empire waist with a very modest neckline. Hot pink earrings dangled all the way down to her shoulders. It’s true she was wearing flip-flops on her feet but they were such a dark turquoise that you hardly noticed that they were plastic.

  “I’m so happy this dreadful heat has come to an end that I felt like celebrating. We can even have a cup of coffee without that loud old air conditioner on.”

  “That’s true, and guess what? I have a fresh pot on.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything over to eat with it, Mabel.”

  “Are you kidding? I can still taste those wonderful cinnamon buns that I ate this morning.”

  “You mean you haven’t eaten anything since then?” She jumped up off the chair. “I’m going home right now and make some ham and cheese sandwiches for you.”

  I grabbed the full cup of coffee from her hand and gently pushed her back down.

  “No, you’re not. We’re going to sit and have a visit.” I fixed my coffee and pulled a chair over to be closer. “I was talking to Dottie at noon and she tells me that the seniors’ home is now taking them into the city every week.”

  Flori stared at me over her cup. “Really? That’s lovely, isn’t it? I’m sure they appreciate it. I wish I could go with them. I never get to shop over there. You know this new outfit, Mabel? It came from the city but my daughter bought it for me.” She sighed. “I don’t know why those girls of mine never ask me to go with them.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “It really hurts sometimes. Did you know that?”

  “I know it hurts. But some of it is your own fault. Why do you always insist that they take me too? They don’t want me hanging around with them. You have to go without me, Flori.”

  “The thing is, Mabel, you need clothes worse than I do. It would be nothing for you to get Delores to come in some afternoon and we could go shopping.”

  I looked down at my neatly pressed jeans and white cotton shirt. Compared to Flori, I looked quite drab. On the other hand, almost everyone looked drab beside Flori. She was scrutinizing me, too.

  “You could use some color. Why do you always insist on wearing non-colors, Mabel?”

  “Non-colors? My jeans are blue. That’s a color.”

  Flori rolled her eyes. “I have an idea. Why don’t we see if we can go with the folks from the seniors’ home? You know, we could be like chaperones.”

  “They don’t go shopping.”

  “What do you mean? They always go shopping. The bus drops them off at the mall and they shop till they drop.”

  I shook my head. “Not any more. Dottie says that now they drive to some park, drop them all off, and then come back later to get them and take them home.”

  “But I know that’s not what they’re supposed to do, Mabel. I was at the town council meeting when they talked about that. They arranged for the school bus to take them to the city once a month for shopping. Bill Williams, the school bus driver, was getting paid extra to do that.”

  “Well,” I said, draining my cup, “that’s not what’s happening. You should check it out, Flori.”

  “You know I will. Jake can have a talk with Bill and see what he’s up to.”

  “It’s not Bill who’s driving them. It’s Calvin Koots.”

  “Calvin? Well, who’s driving his taxi while he’s gallivanting off to the city?”

  “Bernie Bernstein.”

  “Really? But Bernie’s dead.”
/>   “As I said, Flori, you’d better check it out.”

  Chapter Eight

  Prunella Flowers was sitting on her front porch nursing a glass of something she was trying to make everyone believe was iced tea but believe you me - that was no glass of iced tea. I know the aroma of rum when I smell it. Personally, I enjoy a nip of gin once in awhile. Flori is horrified that I do. She’ll imbibe in wine. When I say ‘imbibe’, I’m talking about one of the rarer meanings of the word and that is, absorb. To her, wine is Biblical but gin is a sin.

  Before Prunella could protest, I walked up onto the porch and sat down.

  “Oh Mabel, I don’t know if I’m up to visiting with anyone tonight. It’s nice to see you but as you probably know, I’ve had the police here so many times today and I’ve had to go down to the station to make a statement. I don’t want to hurt your feelings but I think I just want to sit here and drink my iced tea and try to relax.” As she spoke, her arms fluttered and some of her rum slopped over the side of the glass. When she saw what happened, she quickly put the glass to her lips and licked the ‘iced tea’ before it dripped on her shirt.

  I reached over and patted her arm. “I don’t blame you one bit, Prunella. If I were you, I wouldn’t be drinking iced tea; I’d be drinking something a lot stronger. It must be terrifying for you. Imagine seeing Melanie only minutes before she smashed her husband on the head and sent him into another world.”

  (Not that I believe in another world but I was trying to make it sound as dramatic as I could.)

  “Oh Mabel, if I’d known what was about to happen, I would’ve called Reg right away.” Her thin arms began to shake and she was having some trouble hanging onto that iced tea.

  “Prunella, why don’t we go inside and I’ll make you a better drink. Do you happen to have any rum in the house?”

  She almost fell over when she stood up but I grabbed her in time and helped her into the kitchen.

  When we got inside, she said, “I think I might have some rum, Mabel. Would you like a little drink too? I hate to drink alone.”