by Rose, Sharon
Prunella wasn’t sitting out on her veranda so I went around to the back door. Everything was very quiet. Her flowers in the front and along the side of the house were looking droopy and there was a nice variety of weeds competing for space. Usually Prunella is out weeding, watering and pruning every day. After all, her last name is Flowers and as she jokes, ‘she has to live up to her name.’
The inside door was closed so I opened the screen door and knocked. There was no answer. I opened the door and yelled Prunella’s name. There was no answer except I thought I heard something like a low moaning sound. That was enough for me. I went inside. The kitchen was a mess. The rum bottle on the kitchen counter was still there but now empty. Or, perhaps it was a new one.
I called again and this time followed the sound. It took me to a small bedroom off a short hallway. Prunella was there, sprawled out on her bed. If she hadn’t moaned, I would’ve pronounced her dead on the spot. Her eyes were open but unseeing. Her one arm hung over the side of the bed. The white sheet had more color in it than her skin did. Except for the bright red. The blood seeping from the side of her head onto the pillow.
I didn’t waste time searching for a pulse. I raced back to her kitchen and dialed 911.
Chapter Eighteen
Hermann Wheeler must’ve been sitting in the ambulance because within seconds I could hear his siren wailing. I made sure to say that I thought Prunella was dead because then Doc Fritz would come. There was no way I wanted Hermann trying to do CPR on Prunella. Or, on any other living thing for that matter.
I waited for them on the front veranda where just days before Prunella had enjoyed her ‘iced tea.’ Seemed hard to imagine she might be the next victim in Parson’s Cove. If she died we would have two murders to solve.
The ambulance flew into Prunella’s narrow driveway and skidded to a stop. The siren howled to an end as if being let out of its misery and both men jumped out and bolted for the front door.
“Get out of the way,” Hermann yelled, almost knocking me over with the gurney he was trying to hold under his arm and drag along at the same time.
“Show me where she is,” Fritzy shouted and whipped out in front of Hermann.
I hurried ahead of the doctor not wanting to be side swiped by the gurney and showed him into Prunella’s bedroom. I have to admit the old doctor went right into action. From where I stood Prunella looked very dead but Fritzy must’ve found a pulse or some sign of life because within seconds he said, “Wheeler, get that gurney over here and let’s get her to the hospital.”
“Is she alive?” I asked.
“Barely,” is all he said.
The two of them gently moved her onto the gurney, which was no small feat in such a narrow space, and Hermann wrapped her in a gray blanket.
Neither man said anything to each other or to me until I started to climb into the ambulance. Then, Fritz said, “What do you think you’re doing, Wickles?”
Before I could explain that Prunella might like a friend along with her, the door slammed shut in my face.
It was probably best that I didn’t accompany the ambulance to the hospital because I realized I had only a short period of time to check the house for clues before the police arrived. By police, it would undoubtedly mean Captain Maxymowich and not Reg Smee.
I figured the intruder would go in through the back door so I went around to the back of the house. It’s so much easier to solve a crime in a city because if the door isn’t bashed in, it means the victim knew the intruder. In Parson’s Cove, however, no one ever locks their doors so it could be a neighbor or serial killer. Besides, if there were any footprints or anything like that, they would be mine anyway.
This time I stood back and took a good look around the kitchen. Someone had been to visit Prunella. There were two glasses on the table. One was empty but there was a small amount of light brown liquid in the other one. The empty one was where Prunella sat when I’d visited her and knowing how much she liked her rum and coke, I assumed the empty one was hers. I bent over to smell the contents in the other glass. It was Prunella’s drink of choice all right. I hoped that Maxymowich could get some prints off it.
One thing that I found puzzling was how Prunella got to the bedroom. Had her assailant hit her and then dragged her to the bedroom or was she there when he or she assaulted her? If she were dragged, some furniture or perhaps one of her shoes or something would’ve been found on the floor. It was hard to tell because Hermann’s gurney had knocked half the furniture down on the way to the bedroom. What he didn’t knock over on the way in, he did on the way out.
I went into the bedroom. As much as I hated snooping through Prunella’s things, I knew it was necessary. There was only one large dresser along one wall. There really wasn’t room for any more furniture. I opened each of the drawers to made a quick search. Nothing drew my attention until I opened the last drawer, which hadn’t been shut properly. On the bottom in plain sight, I found a brown leather zippered case. Inside that case, I found a roll of money and a small packet filled with white powder.
I was standing there, staring at the case when Captain Maxymowich walked into the room.
Chapter Nineteen
To say that I jumped ten feet into the air wouldn’t be much of an exaggeration. How anyone could sneak up like that without making a sound is surely a talent. He stood staring at me but I couldn’t utter a sound until my heart stopped hammering.
When I finally regained my normalcy, all I could do was babble, “I wasn’t going to steal this money, Captain Maxymowich. I happened to open the drawer, which by the way, wasn’t closed properly and there it was. I’m sure it isn’t stolen though. This packet of white stuff? I know there’s an explanation. I know Prunella and she isn’t a drug addict. She might drink a bit too much now and again but she’s been going through a lot of stress. Well, if you saw her at the hospital you’d know how much stress she’s going through. I have no idea who beat her up. She was in bed already when I got here. If I hadn’t heard her moan, I would never have walked right in. Do you think it has something to do with Bernie’s murder? This vicious assault on Prunella? I mean, she’s the one who witnessed Bernie and Melanie fighting.”
I said all that without taking a breath. (Try reading it without taking a breath.)
“Are you finished, Mabel?”
“I reckon I am.”
“That’s good because I’ll take that roll of money from you and that packet that you have in your other hand.” He turned to the uniformed cop who’d come up behind him. “Could you escort Miss Wickles out the back door?”
“You don’t have to escort me. I can find my way, Captain.”
“No problem.” He smiled. Literally, smiled. “We don’t want you to get sidetracked on the way out.”
He relieved me of the money, pouch, and packet. The slightly overweight balding officer took my elbow and steered me through the hallway, the kitchen and then out the back door. I’m not saying that the man shoved me out the door but I did feel some pressure in the small of my back.
By the time I reached the gate, there was another cop car pulling up. I was pleased to see that one of them was a woman. I gave her a big smile in case we happened to meet up again and I needed someone to stand up for me.
I could hear my phone ringing before I opened the door. The answering machine was blinking too so I figured it was Flori. I grabbed it on the fourth ring.
Before I could say a word, Flori was yelling, “Mabel, where have you been? I’ve been calling all morning. I even sent Jake over to look for you and he said you weren’t home so I asked Delores to search your house. She said you weren’t there. Where the heck were you?”
“Wait a minute, you sent Jake over?”
“Yes, I did. I also asked him to go back and look inside your house too but he wouldn’t. I told him that you could be lying dead on the floor but he still wouldn’t look. Where were you anyway?”
“And you sent Delores over to search through my house
?”
“Well, what was I supposed to do? No one answered my calls and I phoned several times. Where the heck were you?”
I looked at my answering machine. “You didn’t phone several times, Flori; you phoned exactly nine times. That goes beyond ‘several.’”
There was silence on the other end.
“That’s a lot of times, Flori.”
“Where were you, Mabel?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I had a couple of places to go. They probably wouldn’t interest you, Flori.”
“If you don’t tell me right now, I’m going to come over with Jake’s old shotgun and blow your living room window out.”
“You have never threatened me before.”
“You have never irritated me so much before, Mabel. It isn’t a joke. I always worry about you -especially if I hear sirens ringing. I know I don’t need to know your every move but I feel much better when I do.”
There was a sniff and I knew I’d better start talking before the tears erupted.
“I’m sorry, Flori. I really do wish you wouldn’t worry about me so much. I’m sure I told you that I was going over to visit Erma and Murray. I feel so sorry for them. Murray isn’t doing too well, you know. It must be awful to have your best friend and your dog both clobbered by the same brick. And, both die. I took some muffins over for them. I think Erma really appreciated my visit. Murray’s pretty much a basket case right now. All he does is sit and stare at the lake. Do you think Jake would go and visit him, Flori?”
There was a brief pause.
“No, you didn’t, Mabel.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Tell me that you were going over to Erma and Murray’s place.”
“Really? I’m sorry. I thought I had. Did I tell you that I was going to stop in and visit Prunella?”
“You went to visit Prunella? Why, on earth, would you do that? She’s drunk half the time, Mabel. You’d better stay away from her.”
“You know what, Flori? I want to thank you for sending Delores over to check out my house. You know why?”
“No of course I don’t. I have no idea how your brain works.”
“Because no one answered when I knocked on Prunella’s door but guess what?”
“Mabel, I am not going to guess.” She let out a very loud sigh. “Come to think of it, I will guess. You found her body bludgeoned to death on the kitchen floor. No wait, someone had shot her right through her kitchen window. Or, let’s see, perhaps, someone shot her with a poisoned dart.”
“Did someone already tell you?”
“What? Tell me what? Someone shot Prunella with a poisoned dart? Are you serious, Mabel? Oh my heavens, what is this world coming to?”
I’m sure all the deaf people in the nursing home four blocks away from Flori’s house could hear the wail that she let out. Sammy, my cat, jumped down from the chair where he’d been sound asleep, gave me a disgusted look and walked into the living room.
I waited for those few seconds when she had to inhale and catch her breath.
“No, Flori, she wasn’t hit with a dart but she was beaten up. That’s what I meant. Did you know that someone hit her on the side of the head and that she’s now in the hospital?”
Whispering replaced wailing.
“Someone hit Prunella?”
“Yes, and I’m wondering if she’ll make it. I thought she was dead. If I hadn’t heard that soft moaning, I never would’ve gone inside to check things out.”
“And that’s why you’re glad I sent Delores over to your house? You think there’s someone who’s planning on beating you up too?”
“No, Flori. I’m glad because I like knowing you keep check on me. I’m sure if someone were out to murder me, whomever you sent over would find me before the end came.”
“What end?”
“The end when I died.”
The wrong wording but it was too late to try to mend it. I waited until I was quite sure my dear friend was finished weeping.
“What I’m saying, Flori, is that I’m not upset that you sent Delores over to search my house. I’m glad because if something had happened to me, like a heart attack or something, she could call for the ambulance – like I called the ambulance for Prunella.”
“All right. I’m glad you’re glad. Can we change the subject now, Mabel?”
“Of course, we can. What did you want to talk about?”
“I can understand you wanting to visit Erma but why would you visit Prunella?”
“Somehow this doesn’t seem like we’re changing the subject, Flori, but that’s okay. I wanted to see how she was doing. That’s all. No big deal.”
“Well, that’s very nice of you. Are you coming to the little book club meeting tonight?”
“No but that’s okay, Flori, I know it’s something you’ll enjoy.”
“Myra said you were taking inventory? Since when do you take inventory this time of year?”
“I thought I might get a head start on it, that’s all.”
“That’s a really big head start, Mabel. You don’t have to make up some excuse. Not everyone wants to read books when it’s ninety degrees outside, you know. I’m not fussy about it myself.”
“The wine and cheese might be good though.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
We shared a good belly laugh and hung up.
I have to admit that although I didn’t lie, I did intentionally leave out the part where I was planning on visiting Sheriff Smee while Flori was sitting and enjoying that wine and cheese.
Chapter Twenty
Reg was definitely not looking his best when he answered the door. For example, last year when he had an abscessed tooth and I paid a visit, he looked much better. And, happier. At least, then he took the time to comb his hair. Not that he has much hair left to comb but what was there, was standing straight up. I was also not that impressed on how far he opened the door. All he did was stick his head out.
“What do you want, Mabel?”
“That’s the way you greet a neighbor who’s come visiting?”
“That’s the way I greet Mabel Wickles when she comes visiting. Now, what do you want?”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind coming in. I brought you some of your favorite muffins, I’ll have you know. I haven’t seen you round in ages and I thought you might be missing your usual coffee and muffins. Well, I didn’t bring over any coffee but we could drink some of yours, I suppose.”
“Beth isn’t here - although I have a feeling you already knew that. You’ve come to get information about the murder, right?” He gave a little grunt-like laugh. “Well, you’ve come to the wrong place. I probably know less than you do. In fact, I would bet on it.”
He started to close the door but as usual I’m prepared for such things so I stuck my foot out before it went shut.
“Hey,” I screamed. “You smashed my foot.”
The door swung open again.
“Mabel, I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to put your foot in the door.”
I bent down and unlaced my sneaker. My entire foot was on fire.
“I think you broke my foot, Reg.” I gently removed the shoe and then my sock. “Well, at least, there’s no blood.”
“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. What did you do that for?” He kneeled down to have a better look. “It doesn’t look broken to me. See if you can wiggle your toes.”
All five wiggled without any problem. I didn’t mention it but the foot was also pain-free already.
“I hope you don’t mind, Reg,” I said. “I think maybe I’d better sit down and rest my foot for a few minutes. I’m sure if I walk on it right now, it will just irritate it and I’ll really suffer for it later on.”
“I suppose you should.”
He looked about as enthused as my cats do when I fill their bowls with generic dried cat food.
“I told you that my wife isn’t home, Mabel. I don’t think it would look right if I had y
ou come inside. Maybe if you walk home slowly, it won’t be so bad. Sometimes exercise is the best thing for injuries.”
I looked down at my foot. “No, I can’t walk home on it just yet, Reg.” I smiled up at him. “I know what we could do though.” I pointed to the two lawn chairs tucked under the patio table. “We could sit here and talk while my foot recovers from the smashing you gave it.”
Reg’s eyes rolled up but I paid no attention.
“Why don’t we sit here for a few minutes? You could enjoy one of your muffins, if you like. I’ll have a cup of coffee if you have one on. If not, it’s okay.”
“No, Mabel, we don’t keep coffee brewing all day here. If you want, you can have a beer. That’s what I’m going to have. Well? Do you want one or not?”
I’m not a beer drinker but it was warm out, I was thirsty, and I did want to keep Reg talking as long as I could.
I nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
He disappeared into the house before I could ask for a glass and napkin.
A few minutes later the sheriff returned carrying two beers in one hand and the bag of muffins in the other. He placed one bottle in front of me and the other with the muffins, in front of himself. I watched in amazement as he tipped the bottle and drained half of it. After placing it back on the table, he wiped his hand down the front of his shirt. Somehow, I think there should be stricter rules on beer drinking etiquette.
While Reg was tearing into his first muffin, I gently picked up the cold bottle of beer and took my first drink. The bottle dripped with so much sweat that it almost slid right through my hand. After the first swallow of that ice-cold brew, I totally understood beer drinking etiquette. I wiped my wet hand down my pant leg, took a good grip on the bottle and tilted it up. The more that went down, the thirstier I became. After four generous gulps, I came up for air. Two seconds later, a belch erupted from somewhere inside of me and blasted out of my mouth with enough force to make me almost fall out of the chair. Fortunately, since Reg is well acquainted with the rituals of beer drinking, he didn’t bat an eye.
