by Teresa Quill
A short haired greyhound peeked her head around one of the overstuffed wingbacks. “She is so shy, and she seldom barks. That’s why I remember.” The dog rested her head on Sunny’s knee. “Did you see anything, Fluffy? I wish she could talk.” She paused again. “Did I see anything? Hmmm. I don’t think so. Maybe she did.”
John set his notebook on the table. He had hoped to find someone looking out the window at the time. The dog heard something, but that didn’t matter if Sunny didn’t look out. Noise in this neighborhood would be noticed. He sipped his tea and almost choked. It tasted like dirt. Somehow, he managed to swallow. He handed her a piece of paper, “Here’s my number. Call if you think of anything, please. I need the information, for insurance purposes.”
“Okay.” Sunny talked nonstop as she walked them to the door. Fluffy peeked from behind the couch, the furball waddled behind Sunny. “Irene, you should come to the shop tomorrow. I have a floral arrangement that’s just sitting there. It’d look great at the Friendly Arms. The cutest knick knacks arrived yesterday, too.” She walked them to the door.
While they engaged in some lady chitchat, he escaped to the car. Disappointed but undaunted, John reviewed his notebook while Irene chatted with Sunny at the door.
Tom Radon tapped on his window with his pen. Oh, crap.
“What the hell, John? Now you’re canvasing the neighborhood? There was no murder. Got it?” Tom jammed the pen into his pocket.
“Tom, I need information for my insurance company after that hit and run.” He rubbed his leg. “You want to see the bruise?”
“Bullshit. Go home, John.” Tom pulled out his phone and raised his eyebrows.
Oh no, don’t call Phil again. Come on, Irene. Hurry.
“Don’t you want to know what I’ve learned?” He might not care now, but he would when the body turned up. Now, if he could get Irene out of there before Tom actually called Phil. He caught her eye and she nodded.
“No, go home.” Tom waved his phone as a threat.
“Ok, Tom. See you soon.”
Irene jumped into the car. With a polite goodbye, John drove away before Tom said another word.
“That was a waste.” Irene crossed her arms and sat back in the seat.
“Not at all. I know our sweatshirt lady was lying. From the back of her house, she has a clear view of the intersection. Also, how would she know I fell onto the curb and not in the street? And Sunny’s dog heard something when she let him out. I think Sunny did, too, but I doubt that does much good.”
He doubted any of that mattered right now. Until the body appeared, Tom and Gracie would think he was just an old drunk. He’d have to do the best he could. When the body is found, they won’t say crazy, they’ll know this old detective still has what it takes.
When he arrived at the Friendly Arms, he added his new information to the murder investigation center. It was almost certain the body was in the river, but there was little hope Tom would consider calling a dive team to investigate. Unless the body washed up to shore, John would have to pursue the case from a different angle. Perhaps a trip to the diner to ask if anyone recognized the truck or the fishing trailer would turn up something. Another possibility was to ask Gracie if she could broach the subject at the beauty parlor, the center of gossip for Skeeterville.
Water running and soft singing told him Gracie was taking a shower. He loved to hear her sing. Tictac eyed him from across the room. Determined to be friends with this grey tabby, he looked in the refrigerator for a bite of ham.
“Come here, kitty.”
The cat approached a few steps, sniffed, came closer, but even ham would not tempt her to come all the way across the room. This was progress. At least she didn’t hiss this time. He tossed the ham to her, which she snatched out of the air. Just as quickly, she scooted back to her cave under the chair.
“Give me time, Tictac, I’ll have you eating out of my hand and purring in my lap.”
The bathroom door opened and Gracie emerged, a cloud of scented steam and powder surrounding her like a halo. He smiled. Having her in the apartment was no intrusion, it was a pleasure. After so many years alone at night, his home felt full and he didn’t feel the need to fill the emptiness with his cup of whiskey. Gracie had introduced him to chai tea for lunch, which sounded like a foo foo lady drink, but it tasted good if she added milk and sugar. He liked sitting with her to watch TV and telling her his stories. He wasn’t sure she agreed with him about pursuing this case, but she listened.
Water boiled in the pot and he made a cup of her favorite lemon lift tea. Gracie covered her feet with an afghan and thanked him. Nodding and sipping her tea, she listened to his account of the day but said little. This woman was no pushover, that’s for sure. She wanted more evidence, too. He did a crossword puzzle and asked her for words because he knew she liked that.
“Gracie, I have to ask you a favor. The beauty parlor is the center for town gossip. It’d look funny if I went in there, but that woman in the sweatshirt just had her hair done. I recognize that smell.”
“Exactly what do you want me to do?” She tied her pink robe a little tighter. He noticed the pink roses on her pajama pants. The pink matched her rosy cheeks, she even smelled rosy.
“Can you ask questions at your hair place about the white truck and the fishing trailer? Maybe someone there will recognize them.” He didn’t want to be pushy, but she was the best person to ask the questions. Everyone liked Gracie, even the tattooed hairdresser. Irene told him so.
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that.” She pulled more yarn out of her knitting bag. “Honestly John, I’m not totally convinced there was a dead man.” She sat, hands in her lap, and hung her head. Her shoulders heaved and she sighed. “I am so worried about you.”
“Because I was drinking, right?” Oh Gracie, I’m sorry. He hated to see her sad, but he wasn’t sure if now was the right time to give her a hug.
“Yes, I’m not sure I should stay. I mean, what if it happens again? You were hurt, and I feel responsible.” A tear shone on her cheek.
She could slap him and it wouldn’t hurt like seeing that tear. Her disappointment broke his heart. He knew what he had to do. He went to his cabinet and pulled out the whiskey. It was the only alcohol left in the apartment. “Gracie, look.” He opened the bottle and poured it into the sink. “I promise, no more.”
“Really?” Her hopeful look was all he needed at that moment.
“I have a problem. If I start on this stuff while you aren’t watching me, I don’t stop. I want you here. . .if you want to stay.” He silently pleaded for her to say yes and held his breath waiting for her to answer.
“I do.” She pretended to knit, but her needles didn’t click. “Now, what is your idea about the hairdresser?”
She continued to play with her yarn like they hadn’t just had a big moment, but she wiped away the tear and sat straighter. Yes, this woman topsy-turvied his world, and he loved it.
“The beehive hairdo lady might have said something. You ladies chat a lot at the hairdresser. It’s a longshot, I know.”
The needles clicked but Gracie was silent.
“You can say that it’s for insurance purposes since I was knocked over and had to go to the doctor,” John said.
She flopped her hands into her lap. “You did not go to the doctor.” Tictac leapt on top of her knitting, tangling the yarn she’d just straightened.
“They don’t know that. And my leg does hurt.” Oh, that sideways glance was usually followed by no. “Want to see the bruise?”
She rolled her eyes. He gave her his best pleading look. “I’ll go to the doctor if it isn’t better soon.”
After a long moment she said, “I suppose I could mention it casually. I could see Jesye for a shampoo and set tomorrow.”
“You are a darlin’ girl, Gracie.”
She was being brave for him. He always knew she was amazing. She could even make a grouch like him say thank you when she took him down a
peg in her gentle way. If anyone at the beauty parlor knew anything, they would tell his Gracie.
Chapter 6
Gracie took a deep breath and opened the door to the Curl Up & Dye. Jesye spritzed one final squirt of hair spray to calm a woman’s frizz. The shop was known as the Curl Up before Jesye bought it. She’d added “& Dye” thinking she would draw the younger crowd from the high school. She had, but she’d kept the old customers, too. The other beauty shop was mainly for women of color. Her friends, Natalie and Rose Ellen, had golden extensions woven into halos there last Christmas. That hairdresser had talent, but it wasn’t Gracie’s style.
Irene went there with Natalie one time before Jesye came. That crazy woman came back with her hair braided tight to her head, saying she wanted to fool a snooty friend in Frederick and tell her she just arrived from a trip to Jamaica. When she took the braids out of her hair, it took another week to get rid of the fried look because she wouldn’t go back to the hairdresser for help.
Gracie pretended to read a magazine while the woman paid. She had been here a thousand times and heard the gossip around her, but she had never been the nosey one. Oh, she listened, but she never pried, even when she was dying to know a juicy tidbit.
“Gracie. Do you need a perm already?” Jesye brushed a swatch of purple hair out of her eyes. The owl tattoo that splayed across her back peeked out of her one shoulder blouse. At first, her tattoos and piercings were disconcerting, but once Gracie got past her unusual look, she was a sweet girl.
She gave Gracie a sideways look. “Are you okay?”
“Only a wash and set, dear.” She gulped. “I’m fine. Just a little upset about my friend, John.” Her hands shook so badly she set the magazine aside and folded her hands in her lap. The only other person in the little shop was a lady under a hood dryer.
“Oh, John the traffic cop? From all I’ve heard, he’s a real character when he drinks. Let me sweep up, then we’ll get started.”
Before Jesye draped her with a black apron, she mentally double-checked her list of questions. She still had doubts about the murder, but she believed he’d been knocked over by a boat trailer.
“So, what’s up with John?” Jesye leaned her over the sink. Normally, she would relax into a dizzy pleasure during her wash and scalp massage, but she was so tense she hardly felt Jesye lather her hair.
“What’s up” was that she had failed to keep John off the streets, and he got hurt. It wouldn’t happen again. She would not let him out of her sight long enough for that to happen, or she would leave. Being here was penance. She took a breath and kept going.
“He was hit by a truck at Main and Elm a couple of days ago.”
Jesye paused in her massage. “Is he okay?”
“Bruised, but not broken.”
John sported a new bruise on his forearm and still limped a little. He should go to the doctor, but he refused, until last night. If he wasn’t improving, she would force him to make good on his promise. Darn that stubborn man.
Now was time for the lie. “It would be helpful if there was a witness. . .for insurance purposes.” There, she did it.
“Well, funny you should mention that. Mira Fetzer was in yesterday talking about John. Normally, I wouldn’t gossip, but since it’s for insurance.”
Gracie smiled. Jesye constantly chatted during an appointment, so this gave her a topic.
“I know he was drinking again, but that doesn’t excuse the driver of that truck.” She was glad her face was partly covered by a towel as she walked to the chair in front of the mirror.
“Mira said he tripped over the curb and fell when that fishing boat went by.”
“Well, it bumped him when he was crossing the street. He was coming home.” In John’s defense, he told her he had realized what he was doing. A positive step.
“I know he’s your friend, but she said he was probably just drunk. She’d seen him out there before.” Jesye started the blow dryer to style her hair which saved Gracie from having to answer, or for Jesye to see her red face.
By the time Jesye finished her comb out, Gracie had all but one question answered.
“I like this shade on you.” Jesye spritzed and handed her a mirror. “Your layers could use a trim in a couple of weeks.” Gracie’s gray hair shone with just a touch of powder blue. In spite of her eccentric appearance, Jesye was much better than the previous owner, when the shop was called the Curl Up, and she was chattier, too.
“Did Mira know whose boat that was? Or did she say?”
“No. She did say it was weird to see a boat go by that time of day. Fishermen around here are usually out in the morning.” She gave one final touch with her comb, then removed the apron.
Gracie examined herself in the mirror. “Jesye, you’re the best. I always look like a queen when you do my hair.”
Money was tight, but getting her hair done boosted her confidence and made her stand a little taller. It was worth every penny. Gracie paid Jesye and hurried home to share her news with John.
As soon as she burst through the door, John popped up from the couch, but he winced and sat again. “You are a vision of loveliness, Gracie.”
Her face went hot and her heart skipped a beat. Oh, this man!
“John, you were right, that lady in the orange sweatshirt was lying.” She plunked beside him on the sofa. “Her name is Mira Fetzer. She saw you get knocked down.”
“I knew it! She’s a witness.”
John moved close enough for her to see he had nicked himself shaving. He hugged her so tightly she gasped. How nice that he cleaned up for her. With her fresh hairdo and his nice shirt, going downstairs to dinner later on would be like going on a date.
Gracie picked at a button on her shirt but couldn’t look at John. “She claims you were probably too drunk and just tripped over the curb when the boat trailer went by.” She didn’t want people to think he was always drunk, but some of them did. Mira Fetzer for one.
“I guess there’s legitimate reason for that.” He shrugged. “The point is, I never told her about the trailer, I only told her about the truck. Irene was there, she knows. We have to call Tom.” He rubbed his forehead. “Why don’t you call? I’m not sure he’ll talk to me about this right now, and everybody likes you. You’re such a darlin’, how could he say no?”
“Oh foo.” Gracie’s face got hot. She dug through her purse and found the cell phone.
What a sweet man. Blushing, she made the call and somehow convinced the deputy to come talk to them. “The Deputy will stop by in an hour or so.”
He whooped and jumped up from the couch to give her another hug. “Sit down. I’ll fix us an early lunch.”
John bustled around the kitchen whistling. He made sandwiches and tea. No whiskey. Imagine that, a man making lunch for her. She did feel like a queen today. Since the table overflowed with evidence, they popped open TV trays in front of the sofa and sat beside each other like a couple who had been together for years. A half hour later, a rap at the door brought them both to their feet. While she snatched the dishes, put them in the sink, and put away the TV trays, John answered the door and led Deputy Tom to the dining room.
John explained everything and showed Tom the murder wall. He tapped a thumb on his lips while examining the timeline and all the pictures. John almost had her convinced, even though the Deputy never changed expression.
“Okay. Let’s say I believe you. And let’s say you have a witness who saw you knocked down by the fishing trailer behind a truck. There is still no evidence that there was a murder, only that there was a hit-and-run by one of the most common trucks in the country.”
“But Tom, what about all of this? Look at the drag marks.” He waved his arm in an expansive arc, indicating the murder wall. “That woman, Mira Fetzer, saw the boat trailer. Why would a fishing boat go out at that time of day?”
“You know this is circumstantial, and everything you collected wasn’t done officially. None of this can be used in court. I’ll let
you know if I hear anything.” With that, he left.
“He’s right.” John slumped onto the couch. His notebook skittered across the floor, stopping under Tictac’s chair. The poor cat jumped and scurried into Gracie’s room. John grabbed the remote, put his feet up, and turned on the TV.
Gracie snatched the remote from his hand. “So that’s it? You quit? You finally get some proof, and you quit? That’s not the John I know.” Whether or not there was a murder, he was finally interested in doing something other than drinking at lunch.
He grunted but didn’t try to get the remote back. With his lip stuck out and his brow lowered, an old man pouting was not a pretty sight.
“Okay, Mr. Detective, if you were back on the force what comes next?” She’d watched enough Law and Order reruns to know that a good detective didn’t quit.
He still hadn’t moved, but the lip was back in place. “Back to square one. To the scene of the crime.”
Gracie got her sweater and stood by the door holding his keys. “So let’s go.”
He stared at her beneath that lowered brow. She stared back, and shook the keys. He wasn’t going to wiggle his way out this time. It was time for her to show a little backbone and keep this man on the right track.
It wasn’t long until she saw a twisted smile, and he joined her. So much for the fresh hairdo, fresh shave, and nice shirt. This was more important than a date to the dining room together.
Irene and Wally caught them in the lobby. The couple had separate apartments but spent most of their time together. Bearded and ruddy with a twinkle in his eye, Wally looked like a little Irish boat captain. He followed in Irene’s wake and had enough ornery to make them a great pair. His bad leg kept him on the sidelines cheering for Irene in her adventures. But he was game for all of them.
“You’re up to something.” Irene trailed them to the door. She pointed a finger at John.
John leaned in to whisper. “We are going back to the scene of the crime. I told you that Fetzer woman was a witness. My Gracie can prove it.”
