by June Shaw
I trotted to the rear of the store and found Father Paul Edward and the twins. They were studying racks of condoms.
Chapter 10
The twins, Lark and Clark, crowded beside Father Paul Edward in their spiky heels and slinky dresses. He lifted a condom pack, and all of them laughed.
“Umk.” The sound leapt out of my throat before I could stop it.
The group turned to me.
“Hi, y’all,” I said.
“Hey,” the women replied in unison. The priest stared at me the way people do when they’re trying to place someone.
“You have a great confessional,” I said, and his expression relaxed. He nodded.
I rushed to the next aisle. If the priest thought I’d been to confession to him, so what? Probably he was mentally scrolling to recall what horrible things I’d told him. If I were Catholic and did go to his church, I could go into his little confessional and tell him plenty. Gluttony and judging people might top my list.
Could a confessor help rid me of faults I’d like to shed? Possibly, but those cubbyholes might make me claustrophobic. Nowadays why not have drive-up confessionals for people in a rush? They could put up signs: Toot and tell, or go to hell.
I giggled, then mentally stomped my wayward thoughts about that priest. Maybe he was with those women who appeared to be hookers, and all of them appeared to be buying condoms. So what? That didn’t mean they were hookers or were buying and planning to use the things. Possibly they were only checking out current styles.
“I know where I spoke to you,” the priest said, and I spun around. He came down the aisle, hobbling with his cane, one foot dipping. The twins sashayed at his sides.
“You do?” I said.
“Yes, with your cousin at our quitters’ meeting.” He grinned. I didn’t know why.
“Oh, right, I do believe I met you there.” I did a quick mental scroll to determine whether I was actually fibbing to a priest. Decided I was innocent.
His friends smiled, like this knowledge made them extremely happy.
Father smiled wider, shaking his head. “That Ish,” he said.
I had no idea why he’d consider Ish funny. “So he really wasn’t a smoker?”
“Nope, never smoked.” Father laughed. “Strange, isn’t it?”
The twins grinned as if we told funny jokes.
“That’s incredible,” I told Father. “That would be like me standing in front of your group telling you that you should quit the habit because I heard it’s bad for you.”
The smile wiped off his face, replaced by a scowl. “Maybe you could do that.”
The girls also scowled at me.
“Ladies, ready?” Father asked, done with our discussion.
They nodded in unison, and all went toward the front of the store.
What was that all about? What would make this priest consider their stern group leader so amusing?
Unable to answer that question, I found stacks of patches and gum and lozenges that helped people stop smoking close to the white-haired druggist filling a prescription.
“Do they put all these stop-smoking things right here so you can guard them?” I asked him.
“Pretty much. Nicotine is a dangerous substance.”
“These things contain nicotine?”
“A little. It’s much less than you’re getting in a cigarette. What would you like?”
Hmm, what might Stevie use? Different boxes held all kinds of items. “I might take one of each.”
“I wouldn’t advise that. You can’t use more than one of these products at a time.”
“Why not? It seems it would help much more if a person has a double dose of products, maybe wear a patch and chew the gum.”
“No way. And don’t smoke while you’re using them, either. That could speed up your heart too much, which could especially be a problem if you already have heart problems.”
“My heart’s great, and I don’t smoke. I want to help my cousin with tension while she quits.”
“There are pills to help with tension. She’d need a prescription.”
I didn’t think I could convince Stevie to get a prescription from her doctor. I wasn’t sure which of these nonprescription items might be best. “I’ll study these to decide what to get her.”
“All right. But she should be the one to choose.”
“She’d prefer to be surprised.”
With closer scrutiny, I discovered some of the quit-smoking items were for people who smoked before breakfast. Others were for those who smoked a small number of daily cigarettes. Different milligrams and packs for the same item supposedly helped those who smoked a lot. Stevie didn’t smoke any cigarettes anymore—that I knew of—so I decided not to get those items.
Of course, she might sneak some smokes when I didn’t see her. The odor of smoke had come from the room she kept locked. Suppose she kept going into that room to hide from me to smoke.
What would I care? I asked myself, then decided I did care. Smoking could kill her. I didn’t want that.
Selecting a product to help her was a much harder task than I’d anticipated. I considered the gum. People either chewed gum or didn’t. I’d seen April chewing but not Stevie.
Lozenges seemed the simplest way to quit. When the urge to smoke hit, just suck on a mint.
Inspecting a package, I discovered these didn’t have spearmint or peppermint flavors. These lozenges might sting when first placed on the tongue. The user was advised to keep one in her cheek, not suck on it. This seemed too much work. I set the box back into place.
Patches? These packs, like all of the other items, displayed milligrams: seven, fourteen, or twenty-one. Use one patch each day, the instructions said, also warning the user not to smoke while using the patch.
I walked to the druggist. “What would happen if a person used two of these? And smoked while wearing them?
He looked annoyed. Maybe I’d made him lose count of pills.
“Nicotine is a poison. Would you want a double dose?” He stared like I was really stupid. “It’s probably best if you let your cousin pick whatever she’d prefer.”
“But she might choose nothing.”
He shook his head “Most of us wish we could get people we love to quit smoking. But that’s not a choice we can make for them.”
“I want to help,” I explained.
“Which is great. You might have noticed lots of those packages suggest users also get into a support group.”
“She is in one.”
“Great. That’s the best thing for her. And if she wants some type of stop-smoking aid, we can help find one that suits her. Or her doctor might suggest something newer, like laser treatment.”
“You’ve really helped,” I said, pleased that he had become nice again.
“My mother died of lung cancer. I wished I could have helped her.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. Right before leaving, I decided to get the lozenges. I left the drugstore filled with knowledge, my compassion growing. I sympathized with the druggist. Then reminded myself I needed to stop judging people.
I thought of the priest who’d also been inside the drugstore, the two women joining him. Ladies of the evening?
I chose to think not. They were only his friends. Everyone needed friends.
Driving away, I grinned, wondering how friendly he became with them.
I considered the other man we’d mentioned from their stop-smoking group. Ish Muller had never smoked. Could he really help others?
He’d seemed the most sinister of the group. Maybe he had some other connection to the man who died? I’d try to find out.
I needed to focus on what to do now and wasn’t ready to return to Stevie’s house.
The sun was sinking. Water bubbled in a brook along the scenic route. I pulled over and sat on a wide, cool rock. In no time, tranquility set in.
I envisioned myself in a long, white, gauzy dress, prostate in the midst of candles in the locked room. N
ope, I’d fall asleep, and the candles might catch the house on fire. Forget meditating with her candles.
The druggist had mentioned a new laser treatment. If Stevie didn’t agree to try it, maybe I could catch her motionless on her stomach in that room and zap her with a laser.
I smirked, needing to come up with much better ideas.
I hated to leave this spot, but darkness was setting in. Peace settled inside me like a much-needed rest.
* * *
Back at Stevie’s, I didn’t see her inside. I rushed to the kitchen and set the lozenges at her place on the table.
I heard the hall toilet flush. A moment later, Stevie appeared.
She glanced at me. We both said nothing. I couldn’t read her mood but decided she must still be angry with me. I didn’t want her to throw anything.
She stepped across the room and grabbed Minnie. My instinct was to yank my cactus out of her hands before she broke it. She shoved her face close to my plant. “I just pooped.”
A snort escaped my throat.
“I think your friend smiled,” she told me.
“Probably so,” I said, and both of us grinned.
She moved through the kitchen, her gaze swinging to the table. She stared at the lozenges.
“I bought them for you.”
She picked up the box, perused its rear, set it down. Stared at me, stone-faced.
Rap-rap-rap sounded from the front door. Stevie strode there, leaving me to wonder how she felt about my gift.
Shoes clomped on the wooden floor, followed by a loud voice, giving me little doubt about our visitors.
“Hey,” April said when I went into the living room, where they’d stopped. “Cherish wanted to come show Aunt Stevie her new toy.”
“Ooh, what did you get?” Stevie stooped near the child.
“This.” Beaming, Cherish held up a toy cash register. Corners of it were faded, paper parts of it torn.
“Neat,” Stevie said. “Show me how it works.”
“We can’t stay long,” April said.
“Here’s a dollar for an ice cream.” Stevie handed Cherish pretend money. “I’d like chocolate please and a nickel back.”
The girl cranked the handle. Her toy went ding, and plastic coins rolled out. She gave one to Stevie.
“Thanks. This cash register is like the one our stop-smoking leader brought to our meeting the first night.”
“Ish?” I said, finding it hard to imagine him with any toy.
“Yes. He had us drop coins in it and imagine all the money we’d be saving after we stopped smoking.”
April tilted her head. “Ish? I saw him.”
“That’s such an unusual name,” I said. “I’d never heard anything like that.”
“It got my attention.” April faced her child. “Come on. I need to get to work.”
Stevie kissed Cherish’s cheek. “I love your new toy.” She looked at April. “Where did you meet Ish?”
“We didn’t meet. I was coming out of the finance company a few weeks ago, and they called his name at the window of an accounting office across the hall.”
I stepped into April’s path toward the front door. “Really? What finance company do you use?”
“Cealie!” My cousin’s raised eyebrows assured me I was out of line asking her neighbor such a question.
“It’s none of my business,” I told April, “and you don’t have to tell me. But the man who died out there was an accountant. Maybe the one near your finance company knew something about him.”
April tucked her chin. Cherish whined, “I wanna go see Scooby.”
I could have Scoobied her.
April seemed annoyed. “Ish’s name was called at the office that belonged to Pierce Trottier.” She rushed to the front door with her child.
I stared at Stevie. “Did Ish tell you Pierce Trottier was his accountant?”
“He didn’t mention it.”
We remained quiet. I mulled over a new idea and figured she did the same.
“Maybe there was a lot more connection between your group leader and the dead man than we could have imagined,” I said. “Stevie, let’s go visit Ish.”
She appeared to ponder that thought.
“I’ll give him a really good reason for why we’re there,” I said with enthusiasm, although I had no idea what I might say to him. “I’ll be discreet.”
“I’m with you.” She yanked a phone book out of a drawer and located his address.
* * *
Darkness draped the roads we traversed. After a few miles on a straight shoot, we swirled up a steep hill. Treetops clumped, creating a canopy, blotting any brightness from the moon. Stevie drove around the narrow road that swirled in front of cabins, some well lit, others dark as the night.
We stayed quiet for most of the ride. My heart pounded. “Should we call the police?”
She glanced at me. “Are you kidding? You don’t think Ish killed him, do you?”
“Maybe.”
“I am not going over there with the idea that he’s a killer.” She tapped the brakes. “Is that the kind of question you plan to ask him? We’ll go home right now.”
“Uh-uh, no way. I wouldn’t ask him that.”
Since she glanced at my hands, I didn’t pinch my right palm. Maybe she knew about my doing that. Possibly I had pinched my palm when I’d fibbed ever since I was a child.
“Cealie, just because Ish was a client, why would you think he killed Pierce?”
“Your man Ish didn’t seem too friendly.” And my trepidation grew the closer we got to his place.
“So he won’t get a hospitality trophy. Darn it, you’re getting judgmental in your old age.”
“Old age?” Anger replaced my apprehension.
“Don’t get your girdle all bunched up.”
“I do not wear a girdle!”
Facing forward, she tapped my arm. “I think it’s the next cabin.”
The scene ahead made my childish bickering instinct fall away.
Sheltered by towering trees, an eye-catching log cabin squatted on the mountain’s ledge. Its rustic porch graced the entire front and jutted over the edge of the valley. This cabin appeared rustic, yet new. Its wooden exterior and porch provided the pastoral feel. Wood that looked varnished made the cabin seem new, as did the bright chandelier hanging inside huge triangular windows. The windows peaked at the pointed roof, which appeared to aim for the sky.
Stevie parked in the driveway behind a BMW. She set the brakes on her Jeep. As we got out, I grabbed my cell phone out of my purse and kept it in my hand, just in case. My cousin knew the man who owned this place a lot better than I did and might trust him. I didn’t have to.
The air felt cooler so high up. The scent of pine trees hung in the air, along with the odor of something burning.
A small barbecue pit on the porch held embers. Two squirrels chased each other up a tree. I ambled from the driveway, admiring the cabin. At the far end of the porch sat a screened-in area near doors of what was probably the master bedroom. The screened area probably held a large hot tub.
This was the kind of place I could settle in forever, especially during fall when the leaves displayed their new colors.
I stood admiring the view as long as possible. Feet crunched against twigs nearby. I glanced back, expecting a person. Saw no one.
“It’s probably only a small black bear,” Stevie said.
I scrambled to the porch. Hearing her laughter, I decided she’d been kidding. But I knew some bears lived out here.
She paused with me before knocking or ringing a bell, and I figured she was also taking in the picturesque cottage. The large triangular window drew the eye to its apex, where brightly varnished wood beams perfectly scored the scene with thick vertical and thinner horizontal lines.
Something appeared out of place in those planed lines. Near the top of the window, something was hanging.
I glanced at the door. Looked up higher once again.
/> Parting one of those perfect glass rectangles was a dangling object.
A person.
“Stevie!” I screamed, grabbing her arm.
“What? Be quiet. I thought we’d surprise him. That hurts.” She yanked her arm away. Then her gaze followed where my finger aimed. “Dammit, Cealie. Not another dead man.”
I forced my finger to keep still enough to punch 9-1-1 on my phone.
Stevie’s arm shook against mine. “Oh, no. It’s Ish.”
Chapter 11
Sirens screamed, their lights flashing across the black mountainside as police cars sped up the slope. Stevie and I watched from Ish’s front porch. I forced myself to avoid staring at Ish’s body hanging from his home’s rafters. My stomach balled into a knot.
Another dead person around me?
I hadn’t cared for the man but felt awful to find him dead.
Police cars hurtled closer. The first one pulled up. Its front door flew open, and a female police officer rushed out.
“Where’s the body?” she asked.
“Up there. It’s Ish Muller,” I said, pointing.
Near us, the cabin’s front door flew open.
Ish Muller stomped out on his porch. “What’s going on here?”
Stevie and I stared at each other.
More policemen and women rushed near with emergency workers and a gurney.
“Oh my God, Stevie,” I said and leaned close to her. “If Ish isn’t hanging up there, it means he killed that man.”
Police officers rushed from their cars. Detective Renwick marched to the front of the others. Happy to see him, I nodded.
“What the hell is going on?” Ish yelled.
“I’m Detective Renwick. Do you live here?”
“I do.”
“We need to go inside, sir.”
“Why is that?”
“There’s a body hanging inside your house.” Still eyeballing Ish, Renwick pointed toward the huge window’s apex.
Ish snorted. “That body?”
“Yes, that one!” I said and nudged past the detective and Ish. I stepped into the den.
“Where are you going?” Ish snapped at me. He stepped inside, others following.
