by Teresa Quill
Amazing Gracie
A Senior Cozy Mystery Novella
Teresa Quill
2 Doxies Press
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Skeeterville Gazette Edition #1
A Snippit from Hiding Miss Daisy
A Note from the Author
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, organizations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by 2 Doxies Press
Cover Design: Becky DeLameter
Cover Photo: Mick Williams (Sunny Day Café) and Fotolia
All rights reserved.
By purchasing this book, you have the right to personal use. Reproduction by any means including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the expressed permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work and do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. You support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
2 Doxies Press, Publisher.
First Edition: January 2015
Contact Teresa: [email protected] (I love my readers)
For more news about Skeeterville, stop by my website. www.TeresaQuill.com
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Dedication
To my hero Frank - who ignores those invisible people who tell me their stories, and enables my pursuits even when he doubts my sanity.
I never write a story alone. My friends and family suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous questions. Please look at the end of the story where I thank them for their treasured input.
For more information on Teresa Quill and Skeeterville go to: www.TeresaQuill.com
Chapter 1
Gracie Moore jerked her head up as her best friend Irene Weatherspoon blustered into the common room at the Friendly Arms Senior Apartments waving her pink cell phone. “Gracie! We have to get John.” Gracie knew that panicked look. John Flynn was tipsy again.
“Where is he?” Tossing her knitting bag aside, Gracie sighed deeply as she pulled on her blue sweater.
“The usual place, Main and Elm,” Irene shouted over her shoulder, already flying out the door. There was no time to lose. “He headed past the diner. The girls said he tipped his hat and told them he was going to work.”
Gracie patted her new perm, checked to make sure she had tissues, her key, and cell phone in her ever-present purse. Ready for any emergency, she headed out the door closely behind Irene. Irene was the most fit seventy-six year old she knew, but Gracie prided herself on looking younger than her seventy-four years and could almost keep up with Irene. She pumped her arms to catch her. They had two blocks to go.
“If the Deputy catches John again, he’ll tell his son,” Gracie called after her friend. John’s son wanted an excuse to force John to move into his basement. The boy said it was to keep his dad safe, but Gracie thought it was mostly about the man’s money.
“There he is!” Irene pointed at John standing in the next intersection.
A black and white patrol car glided past them, driven by a scowling Deputy Tom Radon.
“Oh, shit.” Irene hurried ahead.
Gracie put her head down and pumped harder. The county had appointed Deputy Tom Radon daytime watchdog for Skeeterville. Tom tolerated John’s antics, but he objected to John directing traffic at the four way stop.
“Too late.” Gracie stopped pumping and her arms hung by her side. Her purse slipped off her shoulder, thunking on the ground. She scooped it up and walked with Irene to the bus bench on the corner. They could watch the fireworks from there.
The young officer parked his car near the intersection and took his time strolling to John.
John stood tall in the center of the intersection. Well, he seemed tall to her. He was stout but not soft. Tipping his policeman’s hat, he motioned a minivan to pass. He might be tipsy, but he still looked nice in his blue uniform shirt.
“Come on, John. Your shift is over,” Tom Radon said, shaking his head. “You know you retired, right?”
“Just helping you out, Tom. And if you ever need help with a case, you call me. I was pretty darn good.” John relinquished his post and shuffled over to plop on the bench beside Gracie. His broad shoulders brushed hers. “My dogs are yapping. These shoes aren’t much to write home about.” He pulled off a black shoe and rubbed his foot.
“You don’t move as fast as you used to. I’m afraid you`ll be hurt if someone buzzes through that intersection,” the deputy lectured him. “What would you do if you were in my shoes, John? If I let you stand out there and get hit, I’d never forgive myself.”
Tom was a dear but he went by the book.
“Can we take him home now?” Gracie had talked him out of calling Phil more than once. She hoped today was another good day.
“Can you guarantee he won’t be back here in a few days?” A note of exasperation edged his tone.
“We’ll do our best,” Irene injected, smiling her most charming smile.
Tom shook a finger at John. “I promised your son I’d call if you did this again.”
“Don’t bother Phil.” John breathed on Tom who reeled back. “You know he thinks I can’t take care of myself.”
After he retired from duty as a detective, John had helped with traffic for sporting events and town activities in Frederick, MD, which was about thirty miles away. A few years later, he returned to Skeeterville to move into the Friendly Arms close to friends, and a little farther from Phil. The way Gracie saw it, when he directed traffic, he missed being useful and wanted to give back to the community. Unfortunately, it happened when he was in his cups.
John’s son, Phil, claimed John needed assistance. The old Irishman only needed assistance when he drank too much. When he didn’t drink, he managed his affairs and could drive well. At seventy-eight, that was a feat. Most likely, he could attribute his driving skill to being a retired policeman. His years on the force most certainly inspired his traffic directing shenanigans, too.
Gracie pulled at John`s arm. “We have to go now, John.”
If he stayed much longer, Tom might make good on his promise to call Phil. She hated to be pushy, but she needed to get him out of there, now.
John darted a thumb in her direction and winked. “I better go with the ladies. They’re in charge, you know.” He rose and stumbled forward. Gracie and Irene reached for him, anchoring his sides.
“One more time, and I’m calling Phil.” The deputy scowled but let them go.
“The walk’ll do us good, Deputy.” Gracie used her most soothing voice. “It’s almost dinner time and a good meal will help, too.” With Irene holding his other arm, they steered him toward home.
Not yet ready to breathe a sigh of relief, Gracie glanced over her shoulder. Lips pursed, Tom shook his head. She straightened John’s hat and he grinned. Gosh, he made it hard to stay mad. So what if they weren’t his real teeth, he had a marvelous smile.
John stopped and turned to Gracie. “I’m sorry, Gracie. I know I promised, but. . . I’m just helpin’ out.”
He had promised to stop going out drunk every time it happened—for two years. And yet, here he was again. Luckily, the deputy had only caught him a few times, and he had called Phil twice.
If John kept busy, he stayed out of trouble, but leave him alone for a couple of days and he was back in uniform, helping out. He may want to be useful, but there had to be another way.
Chatting all the way, the ladies flanked him to lead him home. Once back in his apartment, he slumped in a chair and snored.
Dating had not even crossed Gracie’s mind since her husband died, but she did consider John as more than a friend. He made her laugh and held doors for all the ladies, and he liked Tictac, even though the grey tabby hissed at him every time she saw him. They often enjoyed after-breakfast cuppas together. He brought his mug of coffee to her apartment and she had her tea.
Someone had to take care of this dear man. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be her. It would be hard to leave good friends like John and Irene behind, but she had no choice. She swallowed hard.
“Irene, we have an hour until dinner. Can you stop for tea?” Gracie softly closed John’s door and the two crossed the hall to her apartment.
She hated it, but Gracie had to share her news. Gently touching the cross stitch hanging on her door, she turned the key. Home sweet home, it said. This had been home for ten years. When her husband died, she left her house and moved here. Irene had helped her through the grief. John moved in a few years later, and he helped her learn to laugh again.
Gracie flipped on the electric water pot, which was quicker than her stove top pot but not as satisfying as hearing the whistle. She carefully poured steaming water over a teabag in a green china cup and handed the cup of chamomile tea to Irene. With a sigh, she sank into the vinyl chair across from her. This apartment wasn’t as well furnished as some, but she always had a fine selection of teas and teacups, and it was home.
“We can’t let him out like that again.” Irene pulled at her chin and propped her elbows on the red Formica table.
“I won’t be around to help you watch after John.” Gracie ran a finger around the rim of her pink patterned cup.
“What do you mean?” Irene stopped mid sip.
“I got my third notice yesterday. If I don’t pay the back rent, I’m evicted next week.” Gracie shredded the tissue in her hand. Such a bad habit. But wasn’t it better to shred tissues than cry and panic? She should take out stock in the tissue company.
The Friendly Arms Senior Apartments housed about fifty seniors, mostly women, who looked after each other. Part of the rent included the evening meal, so they saw each other every day. Leaving all her friends hurt, leaving John took her heart.
A drip of tea spilled when Irene thumped her cup on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me months ago?”
“I didn’t tell anyone, not even John, but it wouldn’t make a difference. My extra money ran out. All I have left is social security.” She couldn’t look at Irene, couldn’t stand the look of pity she knew she’d find. Snibbles of tissue rained onto the table. Someone had to look out for her dear friend John when she left.
“What are you going to do?” Irene leaned toward her, eyes wide behind her cat-eye glasses. She probably should have told Irene, but she hadn’t wanted to burden her friend with her problems. Now, the time had come. Her husband’s insurance money had lasted for years, but interest rates had dropped and her bills had not.
“I don’t know. My daughter has a two bedroom condo but one bedroom is her office. She always says to come stay with her for a while. I don’t have a choice now. I told her I may visit in a month or so. She was all excited.” Gracie sighed. “Her friend has a rooming house for seniors. It will only be one room, but it would be affordable and I’ll be fine. My daughter’s futon is comfortable enough until there’s an opening. We had talked about the rooming house last year, and I told her I’d let her know when the time came. Maybe the time is now.”
Actually, Gracie had to find something cheap. If she couldn’t live with her senior friends, she wanted to live close to her daughter. “I was just waiting until I had to go to tell you. But my girl lives so far away and it’s in the city. This is so hard. I’ll miss the birds and trees and,” she gulped, “all of my friends.” A tear dripped down the side of her nose, and she wiped it with the second tissue she had half-shred. “You’ll have to watch after John for me, okay?”
“Aww, honey, I had no idea.” After taking a last sip of tea, Irene put the cup in the sink. Then she pulled a chair beside Gracie and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
She’d miss Irene and her friends, and how could she leave John? Besides breakfast together most mornings, he walked with her on nice evenings, and they did a crossword puzzle every Tuesday night.
“Let me think about this.” Irene hugged her and left.
Gracie didn’t move. She knew Irene thought she could solve any problem, but this. . .no.
Chapter 2
Three hours later, Irene summoned Gracie to John’s place, the largest apartment in the building. To Gracie, his apartment smelled pleasantly of Old Spice and coffee, just like John. When she entered, she was shocked to find many of her senior cohorts waiting. Three ladies from the bird watching club sat at the table and the senior squad in charge of the residents’ board—Wally, Irene, and Clara Sue—sat on his leather couch. She looked at John but he shrugged.
“You told everybody?” Gracie whispered. If only she could shrink to the size of a bug, she’d crawl away. Instead, she backed toward the door.
“Wait! We need you.” Wally Walters, Irene’s boyfriend, tapped his cane on the floor and piped up. “Explain it, Irene.”
Irene leapt to her feet and blocked Gracie’s path to the door. “Okay. John, you’re in trouble. You have to stop going out drunk. Am I right?”
He looked down and shrugged again, his cheeks reddening. “Yea. . . I guess so.” He nursed a glass of lemonade, his second choice to whiskey. A crisp yellow sport shirt had replaced the uniform.
“You know that Phil can declare you incompetent and off you go to the next phase of downhill. You don’t want that. Heck, you’re one of the few of us who still drives.” Gracie tried to pass, but Irene held her ground.
John grunted and nodded. “Go on.”
“And you,” she put a finger to Gracie’s chest, “are out of money and need a place to go. There’s no shame in that. We won’t let you end up on the street, or on your daughter’s futon if there’s another solution.” There were times when Irene was a Godsend and times when the woman was just plain nosey. Gracie wasn’t sure which direction Irene was headed this time, but she braced herself and backed away from the door. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a tissue.
“I think we’re in for it, Gracie. I just don’t know for what.” John patted the loveseat. “Have a seat, hon.”
Still stunned, she sat.
She didn’t know what they were up to, but taking money from them was not an option. Every month, she would be begging for more. Pride would never allow that. Her daughter would help her get into the rooming house. It was a big house where a lot of seniors lived together. It sounded like a commune to her. Since it was in the middle of the city, there was no yard, but there was a corner grocery store and taxis. Not the same as staying at the Friendly Arms in her own apartment, and nothing at all like the tiny town of Skeeterville, where she had lived for fifty years. But at the moment, she was out of options.
Every person in this room had helped her heal after losing her husband. Change was so hard. This would be another tough transition, but she had no choice.
Irene stood over them with hands on her hips. “You both need help. You need to help each other.”
John and Gracie traded glances. John’s eyebrows rose so high they touched the shock of hair falling over his forehead. She wanted to push his hair back in place, but not in front of everyone. She would be glad to help John, but how could he help her?
Irene’s
creativity had gotten them into unusual situations before. They even made front page in the Skeeterville Gazette twice. Once with the bird club and once when she started a fire. She just had a way of making a splash. Gracie would melt in fear before pulling Irene’s capers. What was Irene up to this time?
“Gracie will be out of her apartment next week. There’s nothing we can do about that.” Irene paused, probably for dramatic effect. “John, you have a spare room.”
Gracie jumped to her feet. “Oh, no! No way will I impose on John. And I have Tictac.”
John took another sip of lemonade but didn’t move. He didn’t even look shocked. “Go on.” Didn’t he see their scheme? They wanted to pawn her off on him. They were more than friends, but this. . .
“Oh God.” She couldn’t breathe. Her face heated and a persistent pounding in her ears threatened to block out the conversation. Was this really happening?
“Sit down. You won’t be imposing. You’ll have to earn your keep.” Irene stood over the two of them. “John needs a watchdog, you know that. And if you feel like cleaning around here, it couldn’t hurt.”
John tucked his chin down and peeked under his eyebrows. Gracie glanced at the cobwebs and dust bunnies under the TV. The place could use a good scrubbing.
“He even likes Tictac. Don’t you, John? Whada ya think?” Irene paused, and the whole of the room stared at John.
“Well, I. . .” John scratched his cheek.
“I think we need some time to discuss this alone.” Gracie placed a hand on his arm. She’d help him back out gracefully after the senior squad was gone. As much as it would be good for her, he might not see it that way.
“Woman, let me finish. That’s not a bad idea.” He patted her hand. “I do need a watchdog, or something. It’s past time I changed my ways. I got into a bad habit. If I don’t straighten up, Phil will find a way to put me in his basement. Then he can keep an eye on me and my money. Irene is right.”
