by Rose, Sharon
“Naw, I think I’ll do some cleaning and maybe bake up some muffins.”
Flori gave me her ‘knowing’ look. “Oh, silly me, I forgot Captain Maxymowich is in town.” She stood up. “I think I’d best be going so you can get on with your baking, Mabel.”
“Flori, I really didn’t even think of him. It’s just that I haven’t baked in ages and my freezer needs replenishing. For almost three weeks it was too hot to even turn on the top burner of the stove, let alone the oven.”
Flori traipsed to the door. “Well, say hello to the good Captain for me.”
Not that I’d admit it to Flori but she was right. If Maxymowich did happen to drop in, I should make sure I had some muffins for him. The last time he dropped by after we’d finished solving a case, Reg devoured all of my muffins. That’s the hazards of solving a murder with him. This also reminded me that if we were on speaking terms again, I should have some ready for him, too.
The few bags I happened to dig up from the bottom of the freezer had freezer burn so I threw them out. Not until after I’d received my cats’ approval, however. I put one down on the floor and each one came over to sniff and walk away. Teddy, one of the male cats, tried batting it with his paw but lost interest after a few pats and the muffin didn’t roll.
So, I spent Sunday morning, vacuuming up cat hair, cleaning out boxes of cat litter and baking four dozen strawberry and blueberry muffins. Two dozen of each. I’d picked the berries only weeks before at one of the farms not far away and froze them immediately so they were very fresh. After eating Flori’s cinnamon bun and then two muffins, I knew there was a need to go for a long walk. It’s my belief if you’re going for a walk, there might as well be some purpose to it. Otherwise, to my way of thinking - you’re not walking, you’re meandering.
It isn’t the best manners to just pop into someone’s place, especially on a Sunday afternoon but I knew there was someone who wouldn’t mind at all. I was sure Charlie Thompson would be sitting on the library bench and I wanted to know if he had any more information for me.
The sun was now peeking out and it was turning into one of those perfect weather days. I could see Charlie’s red plaid shirt from two blocks away.
He didn’t look up until I called out, “Hey, Charlie, how are you today?”
I did note a slight hint of a smile on his lips, which is a good sign when it comes to Charlie.
“Mind if I sit down?” I never wait for an answer. I sat down beside him and didn’t say anything. I could see why he liked sitting here. Not that I would want to, day after day after day, but it is a good spot for seeing almost everything that goes on, on Main Street in Parson’s Cove.
“You want to know more about the mystery?” he asked after about five minutes of silence.
I didn’t want to appear too anxious. “Only if you wish to divulge it, Charlie. Do you know anything more? Do you think that it had something to do with Bernie’s murder?”
He shrugged.
“Does that mean you might know more or you don’t know if it had anything to do with the murder?”
Charlie frowned. “You ask such hard questions, Mabel. All I know is what I’ve seen.”
“What did you see? Is it something we should go to the police about, Charlie?”
He shrugged and then shook his head. “Not enough evidence.”
The secret to discussing ideas with Charlie is never to lose your patience.
“Can you tell me what you saw?”
He started to rock back and forth so I knew he was getting nervous.
“It was dark. Very dark, but I saw the taxi parked behind Scooter’s garage.”
At that point, Charlie closed down. His rocking increased and I knew if I didn’t leave, he’d become more agitated. Since he’s my eyes and ears in the night I want to keep those lines of communication open – even if the lines are very short.
This really didn’t seem like much information. I mean, why shouldn’t Calvin be visiting Scooter Macalvey? I’m sure they’ve been friends for years. For all I knew, they could’ve been staying up half the night playing poker.
Scooter repairs shoes in his garage. I personally don’t know how he survives on what he makes. No one gets his or her shoes repaired anymore. It’s just as cheap to buy a new pair. Some of the older ones still like to take their shoes to him though. Scooter’s wife, Betty, works in the kitchen at the hospital so I imagine she’s the one who puts most of the food on the table. Sometimes I walk down the back lane, usually looking for a cat or two, and I’ve seen the huge garden they have. Scooter must look after it when he’s not replacing heels on someone’s shoes. Come to think of it, he might not be doing too good a job as it was growing pretty wild the last time I gave it a glance.
I started for home I admit a bit disappointed. The town was so quiet. I didn’t see any police cars anywhere – not Reg and his boys, nor Captain Maxymowich and his boys. What was happening with this murder case anyway? Was Melanie really the killer after all? Was her brother the killer? On the other hand, were there things about Bernie that we didn’t know? It wouldn’t be the first time that someone in Parson’s Cove was leading a double life.
The only person walking down the street was Amy Hunter. She was taking her little Pekingese for a walk. It suddenly hit me that Murray McFerguson wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. When I’d been down on the beach and looked at the back of his house, it was so quiet and lifeless looking. Perhaps it would be good to drop in to make a quick visit. After all, he was the one who lost two friends: one human and one canine. I could drop off some muffins for them.
I was looking forward to Monday. Hunting for clues in solving a murder is almost as exciting as the moment that you know who did it. One thing for sure - I was certainly looking forward to Monday much more than Wednesday. This was going to be the last time I would go to the city with those old codgers. I would invite Flori over after supper for a nice glass of wine and break the news to her.
Chapter Seventeen
Monday morning was clear and bright. The sun shone, the birds sang, and my cats couldn’t wait to get outside. For a brief two hours or so they could pretend to be searching for their food in the wilds of Africa. As I watched from the kitchen window, I was sure the birds were getting a kick out of it too. Sammy, my only white cat, sat under a tree branch, his body literally trembling with anticipation. The branch was about six feet above him but he bravely kept leaping into the air. The bird never moved but simply looked down at him and fluttered its wings.
It was nine and I was almost as excited as Sammy was. Surely today I would find more clues to Bernie’s murder.
I was glad now that I’d baked some fresh muffins. Erma met me at the door. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days but she cheered up a little when she saw the muffins. Erma isn’t quite as big as Flori but almost. Like Flori, she has a contagious laugh. I always enjoy it when she comes into the store. She’s the type of person who can find something to laugh about in almost any situation. It looked as if she was having a hard time finding anything to smile about this time.
“Erma, I wanted to come by and see how you folks are doing.” I handed her the bag with the muffins in it. “This must be an awful time for Murray. I know how much he loved that old dog and how close he was to Bernie too. How is he doing?”
Erma stood back and motioned me inside. We stood in her living room.
“I don’t know what to do, Mabel. Come and look at him.”
I followed her through the house and into the kitchen. She stopped at the window.
“See him there?”
I stood on my tiptoes and looked out. Murray was sitting in a chair at the back end of the property apparently watching the lake.
“I see him but what’s wrong? Why don’t you like him sitting by the water? Don’t you think it’s good for him?”
“At first, I did. In fact, I’m the one who suggested it but now it’s out of hand, Mabel. He sits out there staring into space all da
y long. He doesn’t even come in to eat. If I didn’t take his food out to him I think he’d starve to death. I’m at my wit’s end. Would you go and talk to him?”
It was a strange request since I never really ever talk to Murray. Not that I don’t say hello when I pass him on the street but I’ve never had any reason to strike up a conversation. Now to start communicating with someone who’s lost his best friend and his dog by the same murder weapon is something entirely different.
“Please?” Erma looked so desperate that before I thought of what I was doing, I smiled, nodded, and walked out the back door onto the deck and down the lawn to see Murray. I had no idea what I was going to say. This is one reason why I stay away from funerals. Some people are good at condolences but not me. If I do go to a funeral, I go with Flori and Jake. That way I can stand beside them and nod. I’ve even had bereaved folks send me a thank you card for the thoughtful expressions that I shared with them. All that for just a nod.
The closer I got, the more I realized what bad shape Murray was in. He didn’t even hear me coming and when I said his name, he looked up as if he was seeing an apparition. Like he didn’t know who I was.
“Murray,” I said. “It’s me, Mabel Wickles.”
It took a few seconds to register.
“Oh, Mabel. You’ll find Erma in the house.” He turned and continued looking out through the trees to the lake as if this was a very important job or something.
I plunked down on the grass beside him. If he noticed he didn’t let on.
“I’ve already been in to see Erma.”
As if seeing me again for the first time, he said, “Oh, that’s nice.” He kept staring into space as if I wasn’t there.
“Murray,” I said. “I came to offer my condolences. I’m so sorry to hear about Bernie and about your old dog, Biscuit. You must be devastated.”
He nodded and tears sprang into his eyes.
“He didn’t have to do it.”
“He? Whom do you mean, Murray? You mean the person who killed Bernie or the one who killed Biscuit?”
He hesitated for a moment and I saw another emotion cross over his face. Anger. It was only for a second and if I’d glanced away for that long, I would’ve missed it. In fact it was so intense, it was much more than anger – it was a mixture of rage and hatred. This was something new. Murray always seemed to be as laid back as that old dog of his. Not that I see him on a regular basis but if someone in Parson’s Cove has any type of problem, be it alcohol abuse, soap opera addiction or anger management, everyone knows about it. Of course, he had every right to be so angry.
His face softened and tears welled up in his eyes.
“I loved that old dog, Mabel. He never did anyone any harm. There was no reason for him to kill old Biscuit.”
“Him? Who’s ‘him?’”
Murray looked up at me. “Him is the s.o.b who threw a brick at my dog and killed him. That’s who ‘him’ is. Anybody who does something like that deserves to die himself.”
“What if it was a ‘she?’ Melanie claims to have killed Bernie. Maybe Biscuit was there and in her anger, she picked up the brick and threw it at Biscuit too. You know, sort of like two birds with one stone.”
He shook his head. “Bernie could be a jerk and I’m sure Melanie felt like killing him sometimes but she would never kill a dog. Besides, Biscuit was killed out in that empty field.”
“But what if whoever killed Bernie took the dog and dumped him in the field?”
He looked up at me with a puzzled look. “Why would a person do that?”
“I don’t know. It just seems to me that if they were both killed by the same brick, they must’ve been together at the time. What if Biscuit saw her killing Bernie and he attacked her? Even the meekest dogs will protect people, you know.”
He shook his head again. “No. Biscuit would never attack. He was the sweetest dog in the world. It was some stranger who did it. Some deranged stranger.”
“How do you know that? Why would some deranged stranger kill Bernie and your dog?”
If I’d thrown ice-cold water in his face, I couldn’t have received a more shocking reaction. For one brief moment I thought he was going to jump off that lawn chair and sock me in the jaw. He did literally lift himself off about five inches. That was enough to make me stand up and very quickly for someone with arthritic knees.
With his fist and his teeth clenched, he yelled, “Get off my property, Mabel Wickles, if you know what’s good for you. Don’t I have enough to worry about than having you poking around here in my business?”
When someone uses that tone with me, I don’t dilly-dally. I headed back to the house as fast as my short legs would take me. Erma was waiting on the deck by the back door.
“See, I told you.” She plucked a used tissue from her apron pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her eyes were red from crying. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him, Mabel. He’s heartbroken over that old dog of his. If he’d died of old age, I don’t think it would be so hard on Murray. And, losing Bernie too – he just can’t handle it all.”
“Has he talked to you about Bernie in the past few weeks or so? Did he tell you if Bernie and Melanie were having any trouble?”
“Trouble? What do you mean ‘trouble?’ Are you talking about what Prunella overheard? Because if that’s what you’re referring to, I wouldn’t put much faith in it.” She held the door open for me and followed right behind. It banged shut. She motioned to one of her kitchen chairs for me to sit. “I never knew this but, Mabel, Prunella has been a secret drunk for years. Someone was telling me that all she does is sit on her porch and drink margaritas.” She pulled two mugs down from the lower shelf of her cupboard and filled them with coffee. “Cream and sugar?” Before I could answer, she took a carton of milk from the fridge and put the sugar bowl in front of me. We shared one spoon for stirring. Erma peered at me over her cup. “Why would you ask if Murray talked about Bernie and Melanie? I’m sure he doesn’t know anything about their private life. Bernie used to go fishing with Murray but it seemed Bernie was busy lately. Excuse my French but that sort of pissed Murray off a little. I mean, friendship is something special. After so many years, you don’t just drop someone. Right, Mabel? I know one thing for sure you wouldn’t drop Flori, would you?”
I couldn’t imagine dropping Flori, as Melanie put it. However, if Flori happened to be spending more time with other people than with me, would I drop her then? That, of course, was very hypothetical because Flori would never do that.
“I wasn’t thinking about what Prunella said, Erma, I was wondering about what Murray said. He told me that Melanie might have felt like killing Bernie sometimes.”
Her coffee cup stopped in midair. “He told you that? Are you sure you heard right, Mabel? I know you’ve been having trouble seeing lately, do you think you might be getting hard of hearing, too?”
“Trust me I have no trouble hearing or seeing for that matter.”
“Oh, I thought Flori mentioned something to me about your eyes. I could be wrong.”
“You’re not wrong. Flori is. For some reason she thinks my eyesight is getting bad but trust me, Erma, I can still see and hear very well. That’s why I know what Murray said to me. He said that Melanie probably felt like murdering Bernie sometimes.”
“He said, ‘murder?’”
“Well, if he didn’t say ‘murder,’ he said ‘kill’ and that’s the same word in my vocabulary.”
She drained her coffee, refilled both our cups and put two muffins on a plate.
“Have a muffin. I know I won’t be able to get Murray to eat and I don’t want to eat alone.” We sat for several minutes, silently eating and drinking. “I don’t know what to say, Mabel. I have no idea what was going on with Bernie and Murray. For sure, I don’t know what was happening with Bernie and Melanie. I thought they were a normal married couple. Melanie never mentioned anything to me. That’s why I didn’t believe all those things that Prunella was saying �
�� you know, Melanie threatening to kill him. That didn’t make any sense. Let’s face it, even if you might threaten it but if you were really going to do it, you wouldn’t shout it out on the street for everyone to hear, right?”
I shook my head. My mouth was full.
“I honestly have no idea what Murray was talking about.” She popped the last of the muffin in her mouth. “These are really good.”
“You’ve never had one of my muffins before?”
Erma thought for a moment and then shook her head.
“You want me to try to find out what Murray was talking about, Mabel?”
“If you can.”
“I’ll work on it.”
“And, I was wondering, Erma, where did Murray find Biscuit?”
“Oh, didn’t you hear? Some kids found him in the vacant lot across from Krueger’s old house. I guess they were tramping through the empty lot and almost tripped over him. He’d been gone for most of the day but he sometimes would go out on his own. He always came back home so Murray wasn’t worried. The boys were very upset. You know, most kids have never seen anything dead.”
“What about the brick? Where was the brick?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
It was almost noon but I wanted to talk to Prunella before I went home. It seemed the whole town was now aware that she had a drinking problem. I doubted that she’d been a secret drinker all the time though. Well, let’s face it; I was a secret drinker. I’m sure there’s a difference between being a secret drinker and a secret drunk. Of course, I had seven cats to talk to while I was sipping my gin. However, I’m sure Flori wouldn’t consider that as not drinking alone.
